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Never Naughty Enough
Jill Monroe
She's the perfect executive assistant– or at least she was until she agreed to be put under hypnosis at a party. Overnight, the very proper Annabelle Scott turned into a terrible tease. Now she doesn't "do" typing or filing and spends most of her time wondering which of the naughty items in her wardrobe might do a good "job"– on her boss.Wagner Achrom is a sexy workaholic who barely knows that she exists. But she plans to change all that when she lets down her hair and clues him in to the fact that, in future, the new "Belle" plans on leaving her most intimate things where they belong–off! After all, she's learned firsthand that you can never be naughty enough….



“Do you like it?” Annabelle asked
Oh, yeah.
“It’s called Persuasion.”
“What?”
She wiggled her tempting little red-tipped, pink-striped toes at Wagner. “My nail polish. It’s called Persuasion.”
“What about the stripes?”
“That’s a technique one of my friends taught me. She says it never fails to grab a man’s attention. She calls it ‘take-me-now toes.’”
Her friend was dangerous. How easy it would be to walk to Annabelle and draw her into his arms. To learn with his fingers and lips if she wore a bra or not. To drive out the burning need to make her his.
“All work and no play makes Wag a dull boy. So before I shut the door, I plan to introduce a little play into your life.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
Annabelle’s fingers played with the gathered material of her skirt, lifting it an inch. “By letting you know I’m not wearing any panties.”
Dear Reader,
Have you ever loved someone from afar? A man so sexy and exciting your every nerve ending sparks to life as soon as he walks into the room? You want to say something, to tell him how you feel, but every time you try, your nervous system locks down and you freeze. That’s what happens to Annabelle Scott and her own mouthwatering, unattainable man.
For Annabelle, a woman who has quietly been in love with her boss for years, courage comes from the most unexpected place. Finally her true naughty nature is released, and she takes Wagner Achrom on a wild, sensual adventure he’ll never forget. I hope you have as much fun reading Annabelle and Wagner’s story as I did writing it.
This past year has been amazing. Right before the holidays last year, I received THE CALL that Harlequin wanted to buy Never Naughty Enough. Now one short year later it’s in the stores. This is a dream come true for me. I’ve loved reading romance since my grandmother handed me my first Harlequin novel to read on the long, hot summer days.
I’d love to hear from you! E-mail me at jill@jillmonroebooks.com or visit my Web site at www.jillmonroebooks.com.
Happy reading!
Jill Monroe
Never Naughty Enough
Jill Monroe


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my family and friends for all their love and infinite support.

Contents
Chapter 1 (#u070bdbeb-f948-55d2-a949-ec95b4234f86)
Chapter 2 (#u56d8b721-f88c-535c-98f7-7cedab07712f)
Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

1
SHE WAS STRETCHING again.
Wagner Achrom rubbed the bridge of his nose as he watched his assistant, Annabelle Scott, slowly rotate her shoulders, first her right, then her left. Then closing her eyes, she swayed from side to side in her chair, her breasts jutting from the blue sweater she wore.
A curl of tension snaked through his body. He’d never noticed Ms. Scott’s breasts before. Of course, she’d never worn a curve-hugging sweater before now. But the inviting, fuzzy material of her sweater, with the hint of flashing metallic, didn’t quite fit with the cool, professional image his assistant usually projected.
Cool…at the moment Wagner was anything but cool.
He dug a finger under his collar to force a little calming air on his skin. Skin. His eyes strayed to Ms. Scott’s smooth skin, flushed a pretty pink above the plunging neckline of her sweater. He’d never noticed her skin before either. But then, she never revealed anything below the top button.
Maybe they should discuss the office dress-code policy. Henceforth, sweaters were strictly forbidden.
Not that her clothes were inappropriate, just surprising since she normally wore ankle-length skirts and loose-fitting suit jackets.
His gaze was irresistibly drawn to her ice-blue sweater and his mind took another unexpected, and unwelcome, turn toward the sensual. Something easily dealt with and restrained. Well, not easily, but he would restrain it. He had too much at stake with the Anderson deal to let a blue sweater, and the woman wearing it, distract him.
Anderson. Oh, yeah. Right. With calm and firm determination, he reached for the file Annabelle had left on his desk. He needed to examine the latest demands before he signed, green-lighting the proposed merger between his company and theirs.
Anderson’s stock would bullet up the exchange once this merger was finalized. They’d acquire free reign of his father’s patents. Using the technology behind Mason Achrom’s energy storage ideas, Anderson’s Research and Development team planned to develop a large-scale solar-and-wind-power network, retooling and often replacing much of the aging electrical grid system. It was a far different vision than Wagner’s of bringing cheap, independent power to the farms and rural areas of the world.
Anderson would gain the better end of this deal. A fact he acknowledged, but couldn’t avoid grinding his teeth over. Once pegged as a corporate raider, Wagner would have torn a small, undervalued company like Anderson apart with a few swipes of his pen, all while making a healthy profit. In the past, he’d made the best deals in the southwest. Deals where he, and the investor group he’d worked for, came out on top. But these weren’t the old days, and this merger provided exactly what he desperately wanted. Cash. Cold, hard and lots of it.
With that money, he would finally put to use the only thing his dad had ever left him. To some, the lines, graphs and chemical equations resembled nothing more than scribbles. But Wagner saw what his father was never able to, those patents represented cheap, clean fuel. And cheap fuel was something others would be willing to pay millions to attain.
He hated to share the lucrative development rights to his father’s patents. Except, without a capital injection, they weren’t doing him any good anyway. The Anderson people could have the large-scale energy network, the short-term profitable end of the deal.
But not for long.
Wagner wasn’t the type to throw it all away. He had a new project in mind. Abetter one. With Anderson’s money, Wagner would take some of his father’s unfinished ideas off the drawing board and create a small, inexpensive fuel cell. One with amazing power that could be almost instantly charged and ready to operate anything more draining than a solar calculator.
Now that his mind had successfully dulled the image of Ms. Scott’s breasts, he made himself read the document word by word. A moment later, Wagner seized his red pen and underlined a key point.
A soft, feminine sigh wafted in from the outer office. Glancing up, he witnessed his always competent assistant ably reach for a manila file, while showing an amazing stretch of leg. Her softly muscled calf, her slender thigh, the—
The contract slipped from his fingers and floated to the beige carpet. As he bent to pick it up, he knocked his forehead on the metal handle of his desk. “Ow.”
“Are you okay?” She’d pivoted in her swivel chair and faced him. An eyeful greeted him. Two eyefuls. Her nipp— Ms. Scott must be very, very cold. Had he turned the thermostat down? No, sweat was dribbling down his neck. The air in here was downright hot.
He shot up in his chair, rubbing his head. “Yes, fine.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyebrows pulled together, as if she was concerned, and her voice sounded husky. No one had given a damn about him since his mother’s death five years ago. He was oddly… what was the word? Touched.
“Fine,” he told her.
She gave him a slight smile, then returned to her typing.
Wagner watched her fingers move quickly over the keyboard. Ms. Scott was the perfect assistant. Always punctual and always efficient. They’d worked together over four years now. If she’d shown concern in the past, he hadn’t noticed.
Why now?
Developing an affinity was only natural. He’d been alarmed the time her car wouldn’t start. When he’d checked it out for her, he’d discovered the car was so dilapidated he’d insisted she find more reliable transportation. The next day, he’d left printouts featuring several reasonably priced, dependable cars on her desk, satisfied she could handle it from there.
Yes, the concern she’d just demonstrated was born out of two people working side by side. Nothing more. And nothing like the thoughts he’d had about her moments before. Those thoughts had no place in their working relationship. Annabelle clicked her mouse a few times and his guilty mind shifted back to work.
Usually he liked the sound of her fingers lightly tapping the keyboard. At least it gave the office an illusion of productivity. His start-up capital long gone, he’d been dipping into his personal savings until he could count what remained without using a comma. The creditors would be swooping soon.
If this merger didn’t happen, he’d be back to working for someone else. To making someone else money. To never succeed with his own vision. Wagner swallowed his distaste. He was more than a hatchet man. He aspired to build. To leave a mark.
He grabbed the file and resumed reading. He’d driven a hard bargain to ensure autonomy for Achrom Enterprises after they moved under the new business umbrella. Although he’d sit on Anderson’s board he’d still run his own shop, still be able to develop his own ideas. Anderson would not lawyer away those concessions from him in this final contract.
Annabelle sighed again.
The sound loosened a spiral of desire in his gut, compelling his gaze her way once more. She curved her back as she stretched, tugging her sweater taut over her breasts again. Her long, brown hair had loosened from her clip and tangled down her back, teasing the skin at her neck. And him. She looked like a woman languid from kissing.
And wanting more.
He slammed the file shut on the desk, startling her. With a darting glance his way, Ms. Scott quickly returned to her typing.
What was the matter with him? He leaned back in his chair. Ms. Scott was too valued an assistant to bear the brunt of his frustrations. Merger or sexual.
Sexual? God, yes, but when had he begun to see Ms. Scott as sexual? As far as he knew, she led as celibate a life as he did. No quiet phone calls at the office, no picture on her desk. His own desk was just as bare. And no one used his private line. Demons from the past haunted his future. Did they haunt hers, as well?
Hell, with all the sighing and key clacking, it was no wonder he couldn’t concentrate. He needed a plan and he needed it fast.
Pushing his chair back, he crossed the threshold between his office and hers.
“Ms. Scott, do you have a cramp in your back?”
She looked up with a startled expression. “Uh, no. Why?”
“With your groaning out here, I thought you were in pain.”
She blinked and shook her head. Despite her sweater, leg-flashing skirt and wild, loose hair, she appeared to be the same Ms. Scott. Her desk was neat and orderly, and her coffee cup sat on a coaster.
And that’s the way it would remain.
His gaze drifted from her face, but he stopped himself before he moved past her collarbone. He’d get back on track just as soon as he turned the heat up. He couldn’t have her being cold.
Wagner nodded and reached for the metal door handle to his office. “Hold any calls, please. I need to concentrate on this latest counteroffer from Anderson’s representative.”
And, with a decisive click, he shut the door.
ANNABELLE SLUMPED in her chair and stared at the silver knob of Wagner’s door. From experience, she knew she wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day. He’d probably e-mail her for coffee.
She released the breath she’d sucked in when he’d reappeared, large and agitated, in the doorway, his broad shoulders practically touching the edges. A dark lock had fallen across his forehead. His hands had braced either side of the frame, his large, muscular body filling the empty space.
For one exciting minute there, she thought she’d spotted a flicker of the hunter in his blue eyes as his gaze rooted her in her chair. A tingle, starting in her belly, had spread throughout her body. Her nipples had hardened and rubbed against her sweater.
You’re a femme fatale, she’d repeated in her mind.
You’re an idiot, she’d corrected after he’d slammed the door. No, he hadn’t slammed. Wagner would never gather enough emotion to feel the need to slam anything.
But she did.
She grabbed a pen and slammed her desk drawer shut. Then she reached for the notepad she’d hidden under the large, multiline telephone console on her desk. Wagner would never search for anything there. Not that snooping around on her desk was an activity he’d do, but sometimes he did try to make himself useful in the front office. She shuddered as she remembered the disastrous results and the paper cuts from his last attempt. She hadn’t been able to find her letter opener for weeks.
Opening the pad, she clicked the pen. With long, hard strokes, she put several dark lines through her notes.

1 Wear sweater. Banned from the closet.
2 Sigh. Never again.
3 Arch your back. Don’t strain yourself.
Her upper lip curled as she crossed through her last note. She’d printed it in all caps and had even starred the sucker. YOU’RE A FEMME FATALE.
After tossing the list aside, she removed her headset. This telephone call required holding the receiver. With quick fingers, she dialed her best friend, Katie Sloan’s, number. Katie answered on the second ring.
“I give up,” Annabelle told her.
“Already? It’s not even ten-thirty? Did you wear the sweater?”
Annabelle glanced at Wagner’s doorway and rounded her shoulders. Now she felt ridiculous in the clingy thing. “Yeah, I wore it.”
“Hmm, that should have gotten some reaction.”
She yanked the sweater higher on her shoulders— the plunging neckline was a little too…plunging. “This sweater’s not even made from materials known in the natural world.”
“Did you remember your mantra?”
You’re a femme fatale.
“Yeah, I tried it. The mantra stinks.” Annabelle clicked the pen again and obliterated the mantra with a few more ink swipes.
“Did you arch your back?”
“He thought I had a backache, for crying out loud. He’s probably looking up the name of a good chiropractor in his Rolodex right now.”
Silence greeted her from the other end of the telephone line. Annabelle suppressed a groan. Katie was rarely silent. It meant trouble. Annabelle in trouble. Since meeting in the second grade, Katie had been devising “brilliant” ideas that usually backfired with Annabelle getting the blame. In school it was detention, last year it was a weeklong rash from a sunless tanner. On her face.
“I just had a brilliant idea. It’s time to bring out the big guns,” Katie finally said. “Is there some way you can lock him in the supply closet with you?”
“He’d spend the whole time devising a way to buy out the door company and take over the management.”
“I’m not so sure it would work. That was the old Wagner Achrom.”
“True.” Annabelle sat a little straighter in the chair and eyed the doorknob. That lock appeared pretty flimsy, a good safety net if she— “No, forget it. Former corporate raider or not, he’d figure a way out. Besides, I did everything but recline naked on my desk.”
“Now, that has possibilities.”
A quivering in the small of her back propelled her forward in her chair. “Out of the question.” If she didn’t stop this line of thought right now, Katie would have her convinced greeting Wagner wearing nothing but high heels and a tie, à la Pretty Woman, was a fabulous idea.
Annabelle pushed her glasses down lower on her nose and rubbed her eyes. “There has to be another way for him to finally notice me.”
“You ever heard the phrase ‘You’re pumping a dry well’?” Katie asked.
“Of course I’ve heard it. We’re in Oklahoma.”
“Well, you should have paid attention to it ’cause, sister, the well’s done gone dry. And I’m not sure it had much juice to begin with.”
Annabelle swiveled her chair toward Wagner’s door. No molding, no scrollwork. Just hard wood. Like Wagner. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Well, of course I’m right. Although sometimes I still think there may be something there. Remember how he was about your car?”
“He was probably only worried that his daily agenda wouldn’t be typed and sitting on his desk.”
“Now, girlfriend, you did that to yourself. It’s one thing making a man dependent on you. It’s quite another when you rig the outcome without making damn sure he knows he can’t live without you.”
She glanced at his closed door. “You’re right. I’ve created a monster.”
“Men.” Katie didn’t need to say another word. That one said it all. “Okay, I’ve got it,” she said.
Annabelle’s stomach muscles clenched in apprehension. No telling what this “brilliant” idea would involve. Probably her walking a tightrope from her desk to the copy machine in nothing but a thong and a smile.
But still, her curiosity had her wondering. “What?”
“A great new plan for this afternoon. Write this down—Nothing is more seductive than food.”
“What?”
“Actually, this is brilliant. A picnic. I can see it now. The birds and bees doing their thing. His head in your lap as you feed him grapes. That’s a very sexy food, by the way.”
“May I remind you we’re in the middle of December?” Annabelle glanced outside the large glass window lining the waiting area. “The sun may be shining right now, but how long is that going to last?”
“All right. All right. Then have it on the office floor. In fact, I like that idea better. He has that nice, long leather couch in there, too. See what we can do when we brainstorm together?”
Annabelle glanced from the black leather couches in the small waiting area to the chrome and steel of her desk and file cabinet. The office of Achrom Enterprises was designed to evoke confidence and professionalism. Not picnics. Certainly no grapes. “That would be inappropriate in the office. Besides, he’s not the picnic type. For that matter, neither am I.”
Katie sighed heavily. “Really, as smart as he is, I don’t see why he hasn’t realized you’re perfect for each other. I’ve never met two squarer people.”
“I resent that remark.”
“You resemble that remark. The picnic idea will work precisely because he’s not the picnic type. It will knock him completely off balance. And personally, I think throwing him for a loop is long overdue.” Katie exhaled expectedly into the phone. “Look, we can forget the whole thing if you want.”
Annabelle worked the pen in her hand. “I want to give this plan a try. It’s time. I’m moving on with my life. I just stamped and mailed away my last loan payment yesterday. In four weeks I’ll have my degree.”
She glanced around the office she’d helped Wagner create. They’d begun with such dreams and high hopes. Now he faced a merger.
Sadness and a new anticipation mixed in her heart. With her loans to cover her father’s shady deals paid off and her finance degree in hand, she was finally free. Free to pursue her own dreams and goals.
“I can’t stay here—I don’t even want to. The only thing holding me back is him. He gave me a job when everyone else sent my résumé to the circular file, if not the shredder. He saw past my family name. He gave me a salary and responsibility, and he looks incredible in a suit.”
“You got me there.”
Annabelle’s gaze focused on Wagner’s hardwood door. “If it’s not to be, then I want to close the door firmly behind me and never look back.”
“Then work with me here. You don’t have much time before lunch. You still have that deli on the bottom floor of your building?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Then repeat after me. New mantra. You are a seductress.”
WAGNER SMILED and a twist of satisfaction curled in his stomach as he red-lined a point he wanted to clarify with Anderson’s front men, Smith and Dean.
Good try, fellas. Not going to work.
Did they think he would miss the clause virtually shackling him to Anderson’s side for the next ten years? He might have been out of the game for the last few years, but he still knew all the tricks. Hell, he’d invented some of them.
Red slashes marked the next two paragraphs for extinction, as well. The lawyer who drew up this contract obviously didn’t know Wagner’s cutthroat reputation. At the age of thirty, he’d earned millions of dollars for other people. Now some four years later, some punk associate thought he could outraid him. Not going to happen.
He’d been on the inside since his mom, in blind trust, sold the family home. He’d bought his first company with the proceeds, then paid his mother back threefold from the profits of selling that company in three separate pieces. Afterwards, he didn’t need to risk his own money, working instead for a top-notch investor’s group. For a while, he reveled in the money. Provided the kind of things his father had never been able to give to Wagner’s mother. Tasted the satisfaction of forcing out some of the very people who’d never given his father a chance.
His mother’s death showed how empty and shallow Wagner’s life had become. He’d made a boatload of money, but he had nothing of value. Now he’d only work for himself.
Although Wagner had stopped looking at companies as potential prey, that didn’t mean his hunter instinct didn’t ripple below the business suit and the trappings of small-business owner. He could spot a corporate raider sizing him up and setting a trap aimed to shaft him. Like any good huntsman, he knew how to circle around and cut the guy off before he could blink.
Forcing the smile from his face, he focused on the next page of the contract.
A knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. Ms. Scott walked in carrying a large wicker basket and a champagne bottle. He surged to his feet as she approached. “What’s this?”
“We’ve both been working so hard and I wanted to celebrate.”
His gaze shifted to the marked-up pages of the Anderson contract. Hope of an easy merger with some shreds of his former glory intact faded each time he took the cap off his pen. He didn’t need a Vegas bookie telling him the odds were low on forging out everything he wanted from this contract. What he really wanted was to do the job on his own. “What’s to celebrate?”
She gave him a tentative smile. “The near completion of the merger and… my degree.”
Real joy for her success filled him. It was nice to see good things happen to people who deserved them. They shared a common background of dead-beat dads. He’d met Annabelle when he was at the top of his game and she was at her lowest: completely alone except for the debt her father left her. The man had stolen from his relatives and she’d vowed to repay every penny. Now with a balance sheet firmly in the black, she presumably was ready to start her life. His pleasure vanished, replaced by… apprehension? He straightened his tie and cleared his throat.
“You’ll make a wonderful financial counselor,” he said, dropping his pen. A touch of sadness tinged his happiness for her. She’d be leaving soon.
“I just need to finish the semester. Soon I will be helping people make better investment choices.” She leaned to the side, resting the basket on her hip.
Sprinting around the desk, he reached for the handle. “Here, let me help you with that.”
Her smile broadened as she handed him the basket, their hands brushing. She reached for the blanket on top of the basket, and with one motion shook it and let it fall to the ground.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She settled herself on the faded patches of the blanket, tucking her legs beneath her, giving him a clear view down her sweater. Her cleavage was, in a word, stunning.
He had to get her out of there. He had a merger to concentrate on, not…
“Thigh or breast?” she asked.
He gulped. Chicken. She was offering him chicken. Not her delectable body. “Both.”
Wagner sank to the floor beside her before he gawked further. This was her way to celebrate; she’d worked hard. If Annabelle wanted to sit cross-legged on the floor, he would let her. He owed her.
“I thought an indoor picnic would be nice. We both have to eat lunch. This way we don’t have to leave the office, worry about ants, and I can still answer the telephone if needed.”
Perfect sense. As always. He appreciated having Ms. Scott in the office. He’d miss her punctuality, level head and sense of order.
After pulling out two red ceramic plates from the basket, she began to lay out chicken salad and pasta. His stomach growled as the smell of warm bread hit his nose.
“Fresh from the bakery around the corner.”
She spread a liberal pat of butter on her bread with efficient movements. A little of the butter landed on her finger. She brought her finger to her lips, sucking the tip into her mouth.
Their eyes met. She’d caught him staring. “Butter?” she asked.
Oh, yeah.
“Wagner, would you like butter on your bread?”
He gave himself a mental shake. “No. Better not. Thank you.”
“Would you open the bottle?”
Reaching for the bottle, he tore the aluminum covering off with the ease of a man in familiar territory. In the past, he’d had many reasons to celebrate, but nothing to be proud of.
Stretching gracefully across the blanket, she placed his plate in front of his knee. Her fingers lightly grazed his leg. He felt the sensation through the wool material of his pants and he steeled his muscles not to react. Instead, he stared at her hands. He’d never noticed the fine bone structure of her delicate fingers and wrists.
Such slender hands to take on so much work. School, her job with him and he knew she did some freelance typing to lessen her considerable debt. His gaze moved upward. Such narrow shoulders to take on the burdens of her father. His eyes traveled to her mouth. Such sweet lips. Pink and full, demanding a man’s kiss.
His kiss.
Something strange and unusual tightened and swelled within him and his fingers pushed harder into the softness of the cork.
With a pop, the cork flew across the room and the bubbly champagne floated down the side of the bottle. Laughing, she handed him a flute.
He smiled as he felt its weight. “Plastic?”
“Couldn’t find glass.”
Eating on the carpet and drinking out of plastic champagne glasses was the other side of the planet from his caviar and Cristal days. Five years ago he could clear a path to the buffet just by walking through the room. Gourmet food on the finest china had awaited him.
Somehow he liked this better.
After carefully filling the two glasses, he handed one to her. Annabelle Scott had worked with him for so long, they meshed. But he could not remember ever having a meal with her or even being so close he smelled the tantalizing vanilla scent of her shampoo or noticed the tiny dimple in her right cheek.
Except once.
He’d forgotten that one. Until now.
Two months ago, they’d worked late into the night on a project proposal. She’d fallen asleep on the couch in the corner of his office. He’d only meant to bring her a cup of coffee so she’d be awake enough to drive home. Instead, he’d found himself staring at the way her hair curled around the soft curve of her chin. The seductive roll of her hips and the tugging of her breasts against the buttons of her blouse had jerked at his body. Pure temptation.
He’d walked away congratulating himself on not making the huge mistake of kissing her awake as his instinct first had urged.
The dimple appeared in her cheek as she slowly sucked in a coil of pasta.
A spiral of desire shot through his body. Wagner looked away. The food on his plate was a much safer place to stare.
Silence settled between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but after a few minutes, something propelled him to break it.
“How’s your back?”
Her eyebrows knotted together in confusion, then she smiled. “Oh, fine. Just needed to stretch a little bit. All that studying.”
A cold sweat blasted him on the back of the neck as she closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders. His gaze roamed to her breasts and he very nearly groaned. He grabbed the plastic champagne flute and downed his bubbly in one long swallow.
Then he coughed. “That’s not champagne.”
“No. I didn’t think alcohol would be wise in the middle of a workday. That’s sparkling plum cider.”
“Very…interesting flavor,” he said between coughing and trying to catch his breath.
“It was all they had.”
Coughing a few more times, he gasped for air, not able to break the cycle. Ms. Scott reached over and patted him on the back. Her breasts swayed before his eyes. The urge to cough again assailed him. Be an adult. “I’m okay.”
She leaned away, her eyebrows knotting again. “I have just the thing to clean your palate.” She returned her attention to the basket and pulled out two large slivers of chocolate cake and a bunch of green grapes.
“The grapes aren’t really in season yet, so they cost a fortune, but I just love them, don’t you?”
He nearly sprang up from the blanket when her pink tongue licked the plumpness of the grape. He imagined her tongue touching and tasting his—
What the hell was happening to him? The way she was eating made him think of nothing but sex. With Ms. Scott. Sex with Ms. Scott.
The absurdity of the idea drove him to his feet. Unfortunately he took the corner of the blanket with him. Silverware clinked off her plate and the chocolate cake flipped to the carpet. She scrambled after it.
“Ms. Scott, thank you for the lunch. I’ll eat the rest at my desk. I have to go over this merger contract one more time.”
Maybe he had more of the hunter left in him than he thought. His company falling about his ears, his most valued assistant about to leave him and the only thing that filled his mind was the image of her on that patchwork blanket.
Naked.
And the ideas. The first image had him laying her back on that quilt and drawing her into his arms. The second one had to do with butter, slathering and licking. He balled his hands into fists to prevent himself from acting on those ideas.
When she looked at him, her eyes were filled with something… What was it… ? Hurt?
Anger, with himself and this strange, frustrating situation, made him regret his awkward, brusque behavior. “Uh, thank you, Ms. Scott. And congratulations.”
With a tight nod, she scooted around on the quilt on all fours, gathering the remnants of their lunch and returning it into the wicker basket. He turned his head as her delicious backside came into view.
He was a pig.
The lid banging on the basket signaled her cleaning task was completed. “Ms. Scott.”
Her eyes met his, a mixture of dread and hope evident in her gaze. “Yes?”
“I’ll be working late this evening. Please lock up when you leave.”
He broke out in a sweat as she shut the door behind her.
ANNABELLE SUCCESSFULLY resisted the temptation to slam the door. Instead, she stalked over to her desk, dumped the basket next to the file cabinet and grabbed the pad under the phone.
This time she retrieved a thick Sharpie marker to cross out her stupid list. She meant business.
1. Use your tongue. Bite it the next time you feel the need to seek advice from Katie.
2. Play with your food. Leave that to the toddler set.
3. Arch your back more. Keep that up and you’ll give yourself a real backache.
The pungent odor of the marker filled the room as she colored over any trace of her latest mantra. You’re a seductress.
Yeah. Sure. A seducer right back to work.
Pushing the paper aside, Annabelle dialed Katie’s number. She should put it on the office speed dial. Her friend answered on the first ring; she must have been expecting her call.
“Are you sticky from butter?”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“Caller ID.”
“The plan tanked. I’m finished.”
“Hmm.”
The clicking sound over the phone line gave Annabelle a clear image of Katie in her mind. She reclined in her chair, clicking her pen between her teeth. Thinking. Never a good sign.
“No new plans. You’re right. The well’s a bust,” Annabelle said. She had a plan of her own. Maybe if she agreed with Katie, her next suggestion wouldn’t involve stilettos and a black feather boa.
“I don’t know. I can’t help but think all he needs is a nudge.” Katie took a sudden intake of breath. “I’ve got it.”
Annabelle cringed. “Maybe you shouldn’t say those words again. Your last two plans backfired.”
“Those plans should have worked. I’m beginning to think it’s the execution. That’s why I’m taking matters into my own hands. I’m overseeing the next operation.”
“Katie, I’m not interested—”
“You’ll start seeing another man.”
Her muscles relaxed. This newest brainchild would go nowhere. “Well, first I have to choose just one from the many clamoring outside my door.”
“We’ll start small. There’s a party tonight. Heather’s roommate got married and she’s throwing an ‘I’m still single’ bash at her apartment.”
This time Annabelle’s groan was audible. “No, not a party. I hate parties.”
“Belle, honey, maybe it’s time for you to move on. Nothing’s happening there in the office. You need to search for something new. It might not be at this party, but it’s a start to get your feet wet.”
She cut another glance at Wagner’s firmly shut door. His heart, like that door, would remain shut to her forever. She might as well get used to it. “Okay, I’ll go.”
“Great. See you there.”
Annabelle replaced the receiver and looked back at her notebook. She ripped out her carefully prepared notes. With purposeful steps, she walked to the paper shredder, flipped the switch and rammed the pages home.

2
“WHY AM I HERE?” Annabelle shouted over the din of the crowd.
“Do you mean philosophically?” Katie teased as she slid two drinks off the makeshift bar and handed one to Annabelle.
“No, you know what I mean.” Annabelle had never really fit into the singles’ party scene, although this one was better than most. Someone’s home always won out over a loud bar. But noise was noise. She smoothed the muscles above her eyebrows, a headache already forming. She should have worn her glasses.
Laughter drifted from the center of the room where two couples stood. Annabelle couldn’t miss the uncomfortable posture and forced smile on the face of one of the women. She did not relish an evening of doing the same. She tried to hand her drink back to Katie. “This is crazy. I hate parties.”
“Which is exactly why you need to be here. You need to get back into the groove. A few years ago, you were the life of the party.”
“Parties are all wrong for me. See that group of guys over there. They have ‘my-dot-com-start-up-went-bust-and-now-I’m-living-with-my-parents written all over them. They’re scouting for a woman to bankroll their next project. Not a soul mate.”
Katie raised an eyebrow. “And are you trying to find a soul mate? No, you’re only trying to have a nice time, maybe have an intelligent conversation with an interesting man.”
For six months, her best friend had been on a mission to give Annabelle a life—starting with the ridiculous toe ring now twisting around her index toe. Annabelle was amazed Katie still managed to gear up any energy for the project, especially after the picnic fiasco this afternoon. Of course, Katie did the easy part. Her best friend was all about suggestions.
As hard as Katie might try to zap her into some semblance of hipness, Annabelle could never match Katie’s innate coolness from her pink gel-spiked hair to her glimmer eye shadow. Glimmer. She’d just gotten used to glitter. And this party was a mistake.
Yes, it was time to leave. “Do you see any coasters?” Annabelle asked.
Katie shrugged, lifting her tank top higher and emphasizing her belly ring. “Just set it anywhere.”
Annabelle shook her head and scanned the room. Some deep-rooted sensibility prevented her from putting a glass on bare wood.
Katie straightened her back and smiled. “Hey, Jeff’s over there. Let’s join him.”
Annabelle glanced over to where Katie was pointing, then quietly groaned. She should have guessed. The group consisted of all men. Parties where her best friend felt an obligation to throw her into every cluster of eligible men were especially tiring. “Oh, not those guys.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
Too many reasons. They didn’t have blue eyes. They didn’t have a scar above their right eye or make every atom in her body jump.
They weren’t Wagner.
Annabelle shook her head. “I just can’t believe I left the office early for this.”
Aline formed between Katie’s eyebrows. “I’ll have you know, leaving at five-thirty is not early for most people. Especially on a Thursday night.”
“What’s the big deal about Thursday?”
Katie rolled her eyes. “Pre-weekend party. You’d think you’d never been to college at all.”
“I still have to go in early tomorrow. We’re working on a big project.” She searched for a coaster to set her drink. “In fact, I had a hard day at the office and I need to get some sleep. Thanks for inviting me, but I’m going to head on home.”
“Mr. Monochrome working you all hours of the day and night?” Katie stomped her foot, sending her ankle bracelet jangling. “How is everything in the— sheesh, what is it he does?”
“Solar cells. And it’s going extremely well. By replacing the silicone conductors currently used in the photovoltaic—”
Katie held up a hand. “Wait, sorry. Forget I asked. I’m not up to a conversation like the ‘how batteries really work’ discussion we had last week. I wasn’t able to get nickel-metal hydride out of my head for several days.”
Annabelle stood taller, ready to defend Wagner. “It won’t be long before his ideas revolutionize the way we power up our laptops and heat our homes. Besides, stop calling him Mr. Monochrome. That look happens to be very stylish and there’s a lot to be said about understatement.”
“Yes, but he wore it before that millionaire show made it popular. And that trend’s long gone.”
Annabelle turned toward the door, drink in hand. “I’m leaving. What kind of place doesn’t have coasters?”
Katie waved her hand. “Forget I said anything about Mr. Color Deficient. You need to think of someone other than him and this party is the place to do it.”
“We’ve been through this before.”
“I know and I’ll shut up. I just want you to stop wasting your time on him and think about meeting someone new. You’ve been working for him, what, four years? Honey, I know it’s hard to hear and it’s hard for me to say, but the guy is never going to notice you. He’s too involved in his company and proving that he’s not his father.”
Annabelle shook her head. “It is not hard for you to say that, because you say it all the time. I’m no longer interested in Wagner Achrom. I’m giving him up, but I’m staying because he pays well. Very well. Don’t forget he gave me a job when I had more bills than prospects. I owe him a lot. So stop giving me lectures.”
“Uh-huh, right.” Katie nodded toward the throng of men again. “Tell you what, we’ll go over there and you say just one sentence and then we’ll leave. No more hard time.”
Katie might be just this side of wild, but she also had an enticing smile. The kind that could convince Annabelle that clandestinely taping an Out of Order sign on the baseball coach’s hat was a good idea, or the kind that cheered her up after Hailey Griffin stole the heart of the cute guy in geometry.
Annabelle lifted an eyebrow. “Promise?”
“Promise. But your sentence can’t be ‘goodbye.’ Besides, we’re here to have a good time. And to celebrate you finally getting your pigskin.”
“That’s lambskin.”
“We’ll worry about that later.” With a wink and a flick of her red hair, pink highlights flashing, Katie looped her arm through Annabelle’s and sashayed through the various clusters of people all trying to have a good time.
“Hi, Katie, who’s your friend?”
That was about as subtle as a high-school sophomore. Annabelle tried to hide her cringe. He obviously didn’t remember, but she’d met Jeff before. His clothes reminded her of the Web sites he designed. All flash, no substance. Katie should know by now she’d never be attracted to that type of guy.
“Hi, Jeff, this is Annabelle.” Katie gave her a delicate push and she nearly stumbled into his shoulder.
He caught her, his hand lingering on her elbow. “Hiya, Annie. What do you do?”
Get irritated when people call me Annie. This guy would wear his ballcap backward. She just knew it. And what happened to the guys who just talked to a woman’s boobs? Jeff checked her out all right, but in a way that suggested he was mentally calculating the cost of her shoes, clothes and jewelry. Annabelle cleared her throat. “I’m an administrative assistant.”
His five-hundred-watt smile dimmed. An assistant probably didn’t fit into his success plan. “Nice to meet you. Mike here was just telling us he’s learning hypnosis.”
Annabelle couldn’t help it—she laughed.
Mike straightened and turned to her. Now, this one did wear his ballcap backward. A sure sign he hadn’t grown up and left his college days behind. “You don’t believe in hypnosis?”
“Nope.” There. She’d said something. Now they could leave.
Katie shook her head. “No subject, no predicate, no leaving,” she whispered.
Unfortunately, from the expectant faces surrounding her, they also expected more conversation.
“You really don’t believe in hypnosis?” Jeff asked.
“Well, I accept the power of suggestion, but as far as going under and changing your personality, I don’t think that could happen.”
Memories of her father’s ugly cons suddenly crushed that last bit of hope that she might actually have a nice time at this party. Her father had been a pro with the hypnosis scam. He’d promised them a cure through hypnosis. Smoking, overeating, nail-biting, whatever. While there were plenty of well-meaning trained professionals in the world who could aid someone with strategic hypnotic suggestion, her father was neither trained nor well-meaning. With his charm and charisma people readily opened their checkbooks. She tamped down the familiar surge of guilt she felt every time she remembered one of her father’s scams.
Jeff laughed. “Great. Then you won’t mind being a volunteer. Mike was just looking for a victim.”
Annabelle whipped her head toward Jeff. “What?”
“I can’t back away from that kind of challenge,” Mike said.
Annabelle reached for a lock of hair and twisted it around her finger. Twisting—a return of a bad habit. Normally, she wore her hair up in a tidy and simple bun, but Katie had insisted Annabelle’s brown locks had to “cascade” down her back. She hated how unruly her curls must appear.
“You ready?” Mike asked, draping an arm around her shoulders.
Her hair issues appeared not to daunt Mike; he had a point to make. After spouting off, she couldn’t very well say no now. It would be fun to prove them wrong. Besides, what could letting him try to put her under hurt? It wouldn’t work and Katie would owe her. Big time. Crossing her arms over her chest, she sighed. “Lead the way.”
She’d learned all the cons, scams and sleights of hand at the knee of a pro—her dad. Mike’s brand of backroom hypnosis didn’t stand a chance.
Mike laughed, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Heather, can we use your old roommate’s room?”
Annabelle winced as all eyes in the room turned her way.
“No one’s in the back bedroom. We can have a little privacy there,” Mike told her.
Heather raised one arched eyebrow. “What are you going to do back there?”
“Nothing wicked,” he assured. “A challenge. Annabelle here doesn’t think I can put her under hypnosis.”
“Sounds like fun, and seeing Annabelle put under…this I’ve got to see. Come on, Kelli. I can show you the bedroom while we’re in there and you can see if you think it will be big enough for your drafting board.”
Good to know Heather could multitask—throw a coasterless party with ease, aid and abet a delusional male in the name of fun, all while brokering her next potential roommate.
Jeff led the growing group down the narrow hallway. He opened the door and they all filed into the nearly empty bedroom. Only a desk, lamp, chair and bare mattress, angled against the wall, remained.
“Shelley’s going to pick up her desk and lamp tomorrow, but the mattress you can use since she and her fiancé are getting a queen-size bed,” Heather announced.
“Ladies, please. We need to create an ambience.”
Heather laughed. “Whatever. I used to date you, Mike—I know all about your, uh, ambiences.”
Mike closed the door behind the last person, positioned the desk chair in the middle of the room and gestured to Annabelle that she should sit down, which she did. He flipped on the beat-up banker’s lamp. “Hey, someone switch off the overhead lights.”
One of the women giggled when darkness flooded the room. “Why do I feel like we’re in for a session of light as a feather, stiff as a board?” Katie whispered.
“Oh, hey, I remember that game.”
Memories of late nights, bowls of M&M’s and bras in the freezer filled Annabelle’s memory. “That game we used to play at slumber parties? We could never get it to work on me. Just don’t let anyone put my hand in a bowl of warm water.”
Katie laughed.
Mike cleared his throat. “It’ll need to be quiet to pull this off. Okay, Annabelle, you’re getting very sleepy.”
She chuckled. “Oh, please. Can you come up with a line a little more original than that?”
Mike rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Just work with me. Close your eyes and clear your mind. Forget about everyone in the room.”
She exhaled sharply, but closed her eyes. The sooner he tried to hypnotize her and failed, the sooner she could go home and sink into a warm mountain of bubbles in her bathtub.
“Go back in your memory. Search it for a time when you were at your most relaxed.”
She opened one eye. “I’m never relaxed.”
“It’s true. I’ve never seen her relaxed,” Katie said.
“Okay, then a favorite memory.” Mike made a hand motion to indicate she needed to close both her eyes.
Favorite memory? Now, that was easy. That would have to be the time when she’d worked late with Wagner and fallen asleep on the soft leather couch in his office. He’d woken her up with the smell of fresh coffee under her nose. She’d opened her eyes and nearly fell into his deep blue ones, so much more alluring without his glasses. His eyes had darted to her mouth.
For one heart-stopping moment, she’d thought he might kiss her.
“Have you got one?” Mike asked, his voice slowly swimming toward her.
It took her a moment to answer. “Yes.” Her voice sounded heavy and slurred. Why was she having so much trouble saying only one word?
“Good. Now keep thinking of that time. Concentrate on the good feelings that memory brings to you. Let everything else fall into the background but those feelings and my voice.”
“Yes. Background. Coffee,” Annabelle repeated. She swayed a bit in her chair. Through the fog of memory, she felt a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.
“Maybe you should stop, Mike.”
Was that Katie’s voice? Weird. She sounded upset. What was she doing in Wagner’s office? The voice faded. Annabelle must have made a mistake. The scent of Wagner’s cologne filled her senses and she felt the delicious sensation of anticipation as his lips almost touched hers. She arched forward, closer to—
“What should we do?” Heather whispered.
“We should give her a suggestion. What does she need? Does she have any bad habits?” Mike asked.
Annabelle fought through a haze of vaporous words and ever-dimming darkness. Who was talking? No one was in the office with them. It must be a client outside the door. Back to Wagner…
“What she needs is to forget about work once in a while. Take a day off.”
“Great. You’ll be spontaneous.” The words, spoken next to her ear, made no sense. She squeezed her shut eyes tighter. Annabelle didn’t want talking, she wanted to return to her beautiful memory. Couch. The smell of coffee.
“You’ll crave marshmallows.” Marshmallows for coffee? Annabelle thought Kelli, Heather’s possible roommate, sure had some weird ideas.
“You’ll be a sex fiend,” someone blurted.
Katie gasped. “Oh, Jeff. Take that one back.”
“What’s the difference? This isn’t working anyway.”
“Yes, it is. Look at her.” Was that Mike?
“Just change it,” Katie told him, her voice growing more and more concerned.
What a weird dream.
“Okay, you’ll be daring, sexually.”
“Let’s give her something she could really use. I know, you’ll enjoy doing sit-ups,” Heather said.
“Your thighs won’t bother you,” Kelli said, her tone wishful.
“You’ll run naked through Bricktown Ballpark.”
Mike cleared his throat, cutting off any objection. “Okay, Annabelle, when I turn on the light, you won’t remember any of this, but the suggestions will remain with you.”
“Oh, come on, Mike. Not fair.” There was Katie’s voice again.
“Okay, okay. I was only joking. I’ll take the suggestions away and leave her only with a nice, rested feeling.”
Light flooded the room. A shock of awareness scorched through her body and she struggled to open her eyes.
A young woman stood in the open doorway, her hand on the light switch. “Oops, sorry, didn’t know you all were in here. What’s going on anyway? A séance?”
“Oh, no,” someone said.
Who was in the room with her? And Wagner? Wait a minute, she wasn’t on a couch. She was sitting in a chair. The scent of Wagner’s coffee had disappeared.
Annabelle blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the bright light. Six faces turned toward her expressing varying shades of alarm. If she hadn’t been self-conscious before, she definitely was now. “Why are you all staring at me like that?”
Katie cleared her throat. “Belle, are you okay?”
Annabelle shrugged. “Sure, fine.”
“What about the…” Her friend’s voice trailed off as she shot a pointed look in Mike’s direction.
With a few odd glances at one another, the rest of the group dispersed quickly from the room. Actually, they almost looked as if they were making a break for it. Mike had lost the carefree expression he’d worn earlier. His eyebrows were raised and his shoulders tense. He appeared borderline anxious.
“Annabelle, don’t you remember?” Tight lines strained Katie’s face. She looked worried. Strange. Annabelle felt great—there was nothing wrong with her.
You’re getting sleepy. Now she remembered why they were all in this room and why everyone was acting so odd. Annabelle suppressed a giggle.
“Oh, the hypnosis thing? Sorry, Mike, it didn’t seem to do anything. Look, I’m a little tired, though, and I’d just like to go home now.”
“You’re sleepy? Great. For a minute there I thought you’d be stuck with all those crazy… never mind.” Mike smiled and quickly exited the room.
Katie sighed what sounded like a breath full of relief. “Whew.”
“Never knew you all would be so thrilled at me being tired,” Annabelle said as she stood and stretched.
Her dearest friend smiled. “It’s nothing. Thanks for coming out with me tonight. I know it’s not your thing. But, Annabelle, please think about what I said earlier.”
“About what?”
“About your boss. You can’t move on, unless you, well, move on. Go home and get some sleep.”
“Oh, I’m not tired. I actually feel really rested. I was just saying that to get rid of Mike and all his weird hypnosis stuff.”
The color behind Katie’s glimmer makeup faded. She opened and closed her mouth, tapping her foot. “Oh no.”
Annabelle stopped stretching her back at the flicker of worry. This wasn’t good. Come to think of it, most everyone had hightailed it out of the bedroom with varying degrees of worry and anxiety etched on their faces.
Why was everyone acting so weird? And Katie led the pack in the odd behavior.
“What’s the big deal?” Annabelle asked.
Her friend tugged at the lining of her sleeve. “You were supposed to wake up refreshed and you said you were tired and—”
Annabelle shook her head and made a beeline for the door. “Katie, what are you talking about? I couldn’t have been in the chair for more than a few minutes.” She clinked the ice in her glass. “See? I still have my drink.”
“A few minutes? Annabelle, you sat in that chair for at least fifteen. Maybe we should find Mike again and have him—”
“Relax. I’m fine. Maybe with all the dark lighting I dozed off for a bit. You know how I could always take catnaps in school. Come to think of it, I did have a nice minidream. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling recharged. Besides, I’m immune to hypnosis, believe me.” She grabbed her purse and dropped her glass onto the oak end table.
“What, no coaster?” Katie asked, a line creasing between her eyebrows.
Annabelle lifted a shoulder. “Who needs ’em?” And she made a hasty escape out the door, but not before hearing Katie’s gasped intake of breath.
AFTER QUICKLY WEAVING through the mishmash of parked cars, Annabelle unlocked her used, but reliable, Volvo, fired up the engine and took off. At least Katie didn’t try to follow her. What was the big deal? So she didn’t use a coaster… that didn’t mean she’d been hypnotized.
She’d seen her share of hypnosis scams. Her father’s “clients” had sought him out to break bad habits, but the main thing he’d managed to make disappear was their money. Heck, she could write a textbook on the beaut her father had operated in Kansas. That time he’d offered a free session and people from the simply curious to the truly desperate flocked to the storefront he’d decked out to look as professional as any dentist’s office.
Of course, getting them through the front door was his sole goal. Once inside, he’d introduce them to his special vitamins, drinks and eventually the “investment club” only for his best clients. Hypnosis was only the hook—it was her father’s charisma and the sheer force of his personality which really mesmerized his unsuspecting patrons.
It was amazing how her father had become so proficient in “relieving” so many people of their money but never managed to keep any of it. When he’d died, he’d left her a mountain of bills, mostly money owed to her relatives. She’d never forget the hours after her father’s funeral when her aunt and uncle had asked about the savings and stocks her father had “invested” for them. And the sickening feeling of telling them they’d been fleeced. Like so many others in her father’s wake.
But this time had been different. This time he’d hurt family. A few weeks shy of her eighteenth birthday, she’d taken her GED and went to work to support her aging aunt and uncle. She’d also shed any remnants of the carefree teenager she’d been.
A self too much like her father.
Annabelle turned off the radio, letting the road noise be her music. What she’d told her friend was true. The tired excuse was just that, an excuse. She was more than fine, she felt exhilarated, charged with energy.
Nor was she ready to go home. She loved driving through Oklahoma City at night. A leisurely car ride around the lake would buoy her lifting spirits higher. Although she wouldn’t admit it to Katie, that party was exactly what she’d needed, after all. With a few deft turns of the steering wheel, she easily navigated the suburban streets and headed north toward Lake Hefner.
Some of her favorite memories were set around this lake. Several times while she had been in school, her father had signed her out and driven her to this very area. They’d sat on the hard rocks outlining the lake and fed the ducks bread. He’d said they were playing hooky together. She’d loved those special times. Now she recognized it as one more sign of her father’s gross irresponsibility.
She rolled down the windows to let the night air chase away the blues. Thoughts of her father always made her feel blue. The dark water lapped against the rocks, awakening her senses. Tonight turned out to be one of those singular, beautiful December evenings, warm with just a hint of a breeze.
The night air caressed her skin. It was a reminder that the promising days of spring would welcome her, if she could just get through the winter.
But right now, her life didn’t hold much hope.
Maybe Katie was right. Maybe it was time to fire up the old résumé. Wagner knew of her eventual goal to work as a financial counselor. She looked forward to helping people bail themselves out of debt and learn better spending habits. Leaving Wagner was only a matter of time. What she told Katie this afternoon was true. She was ready to move on.
Maybe it was time to stop fantasizing about her boss. Yeah, right. When, in the past four years, had she not gone to bed dreaming of Wagner Achrom?
Originally, the plan had been to serve as his administrative assistant until she completed the final credits of her degree and paid her father’s debts.
When her feelings had changed she wasn’t sure. Wagner was unlike any man she’d ever known. A powerful, respected and maybe even feared businessman, he’d walked away from a successful career as a corporate raider to set up his own company. Smart and shrewd, not a man who could be taken in by someone like her father. And whenever he looked at her with those dark blue eyes of his, she very nearly melted onto her swivel chair. Magnetic, confident and gorgeous, Wagner was a man who could appreciate order and precision. How could she not have fallen in love with him?
Annabelle pounded her palm against the steering wheel. Why did she have to be such an idiot? Wagner only had two things on his mind—building his business and keeping it at the top. And she didn’t figure into either one of those goals.
What she needed was to forget about work once in a while. Take a day off.
Katie had been telling her to do that for years, but until this moment, it never sounded like a good idea.
That settled things. She would start the weekend early. She was taking Friday off. Hey, she was due.
Flipping on her signal light, she turned right into a grocery-store parking lot. She hadn’t planned on shopping this evening. In fact, she’d never been in this store, didn’t know the layout. Usually, she hated not having an idea of where the items she needed were, walking the aisle clueless. But then, she didn’t know what she needed tonight. She just craved…something. Something sweet and full of calories. Yeah, that was precisely what she needed. Yummy.
WAGNER ACHROM LIKED nothing more than an early Monday morning. He despised the society-imposed restrictions on working weekends. How was a man supposed to build a business that way?
He flipped on his office light, powered up his computer and then scanned his desk.
And scanned it again.
Something wasn’t right. His desk was…bare. Where was his day calendar? No coffee cup was waiting for him on the coaster, either. Annabelle always left those two essential items on his desk before he arrived. How was a man supposed to start his day without knowing what he needed to do and without the essential caffeine jump-start?
Wagner stalked back into the outer office. She wasn’t there. In fact, there was no sign she’d even come in this morning. The blinds remained closed and her headset was still looped over the telephone. This didn’t bode well for a productive Monday. Especially after she hadn’t come to work on Friday.
Maybe he should call Ms. Scott. With a wary downward glance, he eyed the multiline telephone on her desk. He hated that phone. His cell would work quite nicely. But before he could press the speed dial for her number, he flicked the cell case closed. Ms. Scott would be here. She’d promised on Friday. And his assistant always kept her promises.
Feeling at a loss, he returned to his office and reclined in the executive chair, which never failed to ease his lower-back muscles. Annabelle had picked it out, always anticipating what he needed. He peered into the outer office, willing her to be there.
No reason to let this little setback throw off his day. So she was late. Everyone could be late once in a while. Once. Once being the key word.
He had to keep his wits about him to seal the Anderson merger. That merger remained crucial for the realization of his own ideas. All he’d worked toward over the last four years, the promise he’d made to his mother, to himself, that he’d leave his cutthroat job and find a use for his dad’s patents centered on this deal’s success. It would work because he’d make it.
He drummed his fingers on his desk. This was crazy. He’d built his business from the ground up. From nothing. His entire operation didn’t come to a standstill simply because he didn’t have a piece of paper waiting for him on his desk.
But first he needed coffee. He didn’t have time to run to the coffee shop as he had on Friday. With purpose, he strode to the breakroom. They called it a room, but it was little more than a storage closet with a table, two chairs, a minifridge and coffeemaker. A coffeemaker, which he had no idea how to operate.
First things first. A paper filter. He searched all over the small space, but couldn’t find a single one. In desperation, he opened the coffee bin, hoping Annabelle might have left a clean filter in there as she tidied up the area before leaving last week. He yanked on the bin handle. When had they gone to this funny little cone thing instead of good, sturdy paper filters?
Wagner spooned in what looked like enough grounds, pushed the bin home and flipped the switch. He watched as the coffee dripped into the carafe.
The dark aroma drifted to his nose and he relaxed in satisfaction. It smelled like coffee should. Why was he worried? He’d made coffee plenty of times.
A few times.
At least once.
The front door opened and closed. Annabelle must have arrived. Good. Now maybe he could get some work done. He grabbed two mugs and poured the coffee. He’d never made Annabelle coffee before. But it seemed like the thing to do. He’d taken two steps when he stopped.
What was that sound?
Was that humming he heard from the front office? Was Annabelle humming? Annabelle never hummed. It was sort of—what was the word?— sweet. He kind of liked the sound of it.
She was obviously in a good mood, obviously feeling better. He’d been concerned when she’d taken a personal day on Friday. Wagner leaned one shoulder against the wall. He’d never really noticed Annabelle ever having a mood. That was one of the reasons that they worked so well together. And she’d been working her tail off these last few weeks. After this merger, he could hire more staff to ease her load. Hopefully he’d never be this low on employees again.
He watched as she leisurely removed her pink lightweight jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. He’d never figured her for a pink kind of woman. Nor as someone who draped clothing on the back of a chair. But she did good things for pink— it was a perfect foil for the warm brown of her eyes.
What was he thinking? And about Ms. Scott. Wagner shook his head to loosen the hold of his bizarre thoughts. She’d probably be horrified if she knew the directions his mind had been taking lately. Mostly south.
He watched in fascination as she pulled a tiny ivy plant from a plastic grocery bag and placed it on her desk. As she leaned forward, a lock of her long, brown hair fell across her face. “You have curly hair,” he said.
Annabelle glanced up, a curl falling over her left eye. Her pink lips curved into a welcoming smile. He hadn’t noticed how sweet her lips looked before, either.
“What?” she asked, her eyebrows drawn in confusion.
He pointed with his coffee cup. “Your hair. I’ve never noticed how curly your hair is.”
Annabelle smiled briefly and smoothed the curls behind her ears. “The curl’s natural. I never really liked it much, but this morning for some reason, I felt like wearing my hair down.”
Before he could utter another inane, obvious comment, Wagner placed one of the mugs on her desk. “I didn’t see you at your desk when I came in. I can’t remember the last time you were late.”
That strange, swelling sensation filled him again as he watched her roll out her desk chair and sit down. After a few more moments of fiddling with things on her desk, she turned to look at him. Her face scrunched when her eyes left his face and lowered to his clothes. “I’ve never been late.”
Scratching his temple, he did a mental overview. “Come to think of it, you haven’t.”
She didn’t say anything. In fact, Annabelle just sat staring at his tie. He glanced down. Nothing on the black silk. He flicked a piece of lint off his matching black shirt.
“I need you to fax a few things from the Marsh file and please pull my calendar.” He turned to leave.
“Nah.”
He stopped halfway to his office door and turned around. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What?” he asked.
“You know, you could use a little color.”
“What?” he asked again, feeling like an idiot.
“In your wardrobe, a little red or maybe something blue to match your eyes.”

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