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Expecting the Boss’s Baby
Christine Rimmer
Twins Under
his Tree
Karen Rose Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Expecting the Boss’s Baby

Dear Reader,

Zoe Bravo is beyond tired of being called the ‘free spirit’ of the family. She wants a job that holds herinterest and she wants to gain her family’s respect. Working as billionaire bachelor Dax Girard’s assistant seems perfect. Constant variety, travel to exotic locations and a chance to get a start in magazine publishing. What’s not to love?

Well, the boss first of all—yes, he’s dreamy and all the women are after him. But when it comes to his assistant, he wants to keep things strictly professional. That’s fine with Zoe. The last thing she’s after is a hot date with Dax. If only she could convince everyone else in the office that there is no way she’ll be like all his other assistants. She will not be falling for the boss. But then again, Dax is a very exciting man. And when he looks at her with those bedroom eyes of his, well, sometimes it’s hard to remember that it’s the job that matters. Sometimes it’s hard not to yearn for one long, tender kiss. Sometimes it’s hard not to wonder if Dax might be trying to tempt her into breaking the rules he made in the first place …

Happy reading everyone,

Christine Rimmer

About the Author

CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a sales clerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining ‘life experience’ for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com.

For you, the reader.

May your holiday season be filled with love and light

and the joy of family togetherness.

Chapter One

“Can I lay it right out for you?” Dax Girard asked.

Sitting across his wide black desk from him, Zoe Bravo answered earnestly, “Yes, of course. Please do.” She did want this job. She wanted it bad. She had things to prove—to herself and to her family.

He arched a straight dark eyebrow. “You’re really pretty.”

Oh, please. Was he going to hit on her? Right here, during the interview? Euuu.

He wasn’t finished. “And if I were to meet you under other circumstances, I would be only too happy to have sex with you. But I need good staff, above all. So I have a house rule. You work for me, that’s all you do with me.”

Zoe stifled a burst of inappropriate laugher and sat up straighter in the chair. Somehow, she managed to reply with a straight face, “Seriously, it’s not a problem. I’ve known you for what, two minutes?”

Had that sounded sarcastic? Maybe a little.

But he had just told her he wouldn’t sleep with her—when she hadn’t even asked him to. He deserved a dose of attitude.

If he noticed the edge to her tone, he let it pass. “I think your mother is a wonderful woman.”

“She certainly is.” Zoe’s mom, Aleta Randall Bravo, was from an old San Antonio family. Aleta knew everyone, including the great adventurer and magazine publisher Dax Girard. It was her mom who had recommended her to Dax for this job, which meant Dax would most likely want to give Zoe a chance. People generally tried to please her mom. And not only because of the social connection thing either. There was something about Aleta that made you like her—and want her to like you.

He said, “And you seem … bright. I have a good feeling about you. I want to make this work.”

“Great,” Zoe answered, trying to sound positive and upbeat. “I do, too.”

“But I just need to have this clear with you, straight from the gate. Sex is absolutely off the table.”

She didn’t groan—but she really, really wanted to. Enough about sex already. How many times did she have to promise not to put a move on him?

Okay, yeah. He was hot—in that rich-guy, lean, preppy way. He looked like he played a lot of tennis. He probably jogged with his shirt off and gave all the women he wasn’t going to have sex with a thrill.

And she’d heard the stories about him, about how women found him irresistible. But not Zoe. She wanted a job, not a hot date. “I promise you, Dax. I’ll manage to control myself. Somehow.”

A long pause ensued. Zoe tried to look calm and competent and unconcerned while he stared at her steadily, his sexy, deep brown eyes narrowed. Probing. Apparently, he found it impossible to believe that she wouldn’t try and jump his bones at the earliest opportunity.

But then, at last, he dipped his handsome head of thick, wavy sable hair to study her résumé again. “Let’s see here. You were on the campus papers at two colleges. You type ninety words a minute, you know Microsoft Office.”

“Backward and forward, yes.”

“You’ve been to UT, Stanford and Brandeis, I see, majoring in Journalism and English.”

“So I know how magazine publishing works. Also, my spelling and punctuation skills are solid. I know my grammar.” What else could she say? Not too much about college. Yes, she’d attended the best schools. Too bad she’d never actually graduated from any of them. She was bright and she learned fast. But she’d always been … easily distracted, eager for the next life experience. And impatient with mundane activities like regularly attending classes and plodding through her assignments. She threw in, “I thrive in a fast-paced environment and I’m very much at home with multitasking.”

“All good.” He glanced up at her. “I understand you’re also an excellent amateur photographer, right?” His gaze was probing again. Was this a trick question?

She met his eyes levelly. “I enjoy photography, yes. It’s a hobby of mine.”

“I believe I saw some of your work at the Texas State Endowment Ball and Auction last month, didn’t I?”

“I suppose you did. I shot the pictures and the short film presentation for the chopper you won.” He’d bid six figures on the custom motorcycle, which had made the Texas State Endowment people, including Zoe’s mother, who chaired the event, very happy.

Dax smiled then. It was a stunningly gorgeous smile that created manly crinkles at the corners of his fine, dark eyes. “I love that bike. Your brother is a genius.”

“Yes, he is.” Jericho, sixth-born of the nine children in her family, designed and built custom motorcycles. He’d donated the chopper for the auction.

Dax was looking severe again. “Great Escapes is a travel magazine. And we do hire photographers. It’s even possible that eventually some of your work might be used in a story….” He let the sentence trail off.

She gave him a cool smile. “I thought we were discussing a job as your assistant.”

“You’re right. We are. And that’s why it’s important that we understand each other.”

So then they had a problem. A big one. She didn’t understand this guy at all.

He was still talking. “You would have your hands full fielding my calls, dealing with catering for meetings, handling my correspondence and any other of a thousand and one tasks I’ll be assigning to you. It’s doubtful you’d be getting your big break as a photographer.”

Zoe had to be honest with herself. This was not looking very promising. In spite of how much he admired her mother, he’d decided not to hire her. And by now, she was less than sure she wanted this job anyway. She crossed her legs, smoothed her slim skirt over her knees and said drily, “No sex, no pictures. Got it.”

He slanted her a look of purely male appreciation—and wasn’t there a hint of humor in that dark glance, as well? “Sorry.” All at once he looked kind of boyish and awkward. That surprised her. Until then, she’d never thought of Dax Girard as anything but all grown-up, a little too sophisticated—and way too concerned about not having sex with her. “I’m trying to cover all the bases here,” he said. “The truth is I haven’t had such great luck choosing my assistants in the past.”

Judging by the way he’d managed this interview, she wasn’t surprised.

He added, “Twice, I tried just letting HR handle it.” His mouth formed a grim line. “That didn’t work out either.”

It was none of her business, but she asked anyway. “Why not?”

He looked slightly pained. “I want someone efficient and professional. But not scary. Not … intimidating. I like a little personality in my assistant. Someone easy on the eyes. And a sense of humor is a must. HR couldn’t seem to strike the right balance on that.”

She realized that all his talk of sex and photography had not only annoyed her and made her wonder if she really wanted this job after all, but it had also somehow served to ease her nervousness. She spoke frankly, “I don’t know what else to tell you, Dax. I do have a personality. A pretty strong one, to be honest. I want an interesting job that doesn’t require the college degree I don’t have. Working for you just might be perfect. I subscribe to your magazine. I like the layout. The articles are fun and informative and make me want to visit the places I’m reading about. And I enjoy your editorials. And being your assistant would probably offer me a lot of variety, of varying kinds of responsibilities, which means I wouldn’t be bored.”

He stared out toward the big windows that provided a prime view of San Antonio real estate. “Well, yes. Variety, you’ll get. Beyond the usual, you’ll have some minor editorial responsibilities, probably assist on things like the calendar shoot.” The Great Escapes calendar featured gorgeous women wearing skimpy clothing in a wide range of beautiful settings. “You would have to expect to travel—not in the first few months, but certainly after I have time to learn to count on you.”

She brightened at the thought. “The monthly Spotlight?” Seven or eight months a year, when he didn’t use a contributing editor for the Spotlight, Dax personally traveled to some exotic locale for his feature story.

“Yes,” he said. “The Spotlight.”

She told him candidly, “I’m not looking for an office romance or a chance to break out my Nikon and start shooting. Just a job, Dax. Just this job.”

He frowned some more. And then he stood up. “All right. Let’s give it a try.”

She couldn’t believe it. He was hiring her after all. She bounced to her feet and took his offered hand.

He said, “There’s a two-week trial period, starting Monday. At the end of the two weeks, we talk again. We evaluate and make a decision on whether or not you stay on. Welcome to Great Escapes.”

She smiled then, a wide smile. If she liked working here, she would definitely be staying on—because she intended to make herself irreplaceable. “Thank you, Dax.”

“Monday. Check in with HR at eight-thirty.”

“I will. See you then.”

Dax sank back into his chair and watched Zoe Bravo go. She had a great walk, smooth, with just a hint of a sway to her softly curving hips. He liked her smile and those beautiful blue eyes.

But would she make a good assistant?

He had no clue. As he’d openly confessed to her, hiring editorial assistants was not his strong suit. In fact, he was lousy at it.

But he had liked her instantly, had wished he could ask her out instead of giving her a job. However, he’d felt a certain obligation to carry through with the offer he had made to her mother. Aleta Bravo was a charming woman. And he was pleased to be able to help her daughter get a start in publishing.

At the very least, he had a feeling Aleta’s daughter would be amusing. She would keep things lively around the office. He liked things lively.

And miracles did happen, didn’t they, now and then? Zoe just might turn out to be efficient, organized and hardworking, to have a talent for the magazine business.

Then he would get over his attraction to her and be grateful to have found her.

If not, well, it wasn’t as though he’d made a lifetime commitment to her. For once, he’d had the good sense to give himself an easy out. After fourteen days, he could simply let her go.

And he would. If she wasn’t a good fit, he would fire her two weeks from Monday with no hesitation.

And then he would ask her to have dinner with him.

Zoe’s cell started ringing when she got off the elevator on the ground floor: her mother. She smiled at the cute guy behind the security desk and tucked the BlackBerry back in her purse without answering it.

But then it rang again as she got in her car. Her mom must be wondering—and getting impatient about it.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Well?”

“He hired me.”

“Oh, I knew it. I think you’ll love this job, sweetheart.”

“I think so, too.” Or at least, she would if her new boss would only realize that the job was all she was after. “But I’m not locked in yet. It’s a two-week trial and then we’ll discuss a permanent position.”

“A trial? Is that usual?”

Zoe almost let herself get defensive. But not quite. It was a reasonable question after all. “I gather he hasn’t had good luck with his assistants. He’s a little trigger-shy. But that’s okay. I am going to be terrific.”

“I know you are.” Her mom was smiling. Zoe could hear it in her voice.

“Thanks for the heads-up on this, Mom.”

“I want to help. You know that.”

“I do know.” She stuck her key in the ignition. “Okay, then. I’m on my way to the salon next.” She blew a long strand of chestnut hair out of her eyes. “I seriously need a cut. Gotta look good for my first day on the job. Love you and see you soon.”

“Wait.”

“Hmm?”

“We haven’t seen you for Sunday dinner at the ranch in a while….”

Zoe made a grim face at herself as she adjusted the rearview mirror. Bravo Ridge, the family ranch, was a short drive from San Antonio. Zoe’s mom and dad lived in SA, but most weekends they went to the ranch. Sunday dinner was kind of a family tradition. Not all the Bravo siblings made it every time, but they each made an effort to show up at least every month or two.

Zoe hadn’t gone in a while, not since early spring. She knew she was past due to put in an appearance.

“Zoe, honey, you still there?”

“Right here, Mom.”

“Say you’ll come.”

Zoe imagined her dad, Davis, getting all up in her face, calling her his little free spirit, teasing her in that totally annoying way he had, wondering aloud how long this job would last. “I don’t know, Mom. I have so much I need to do this weekend.”

“Please, honey. It really has been way too long.” Like most mothers, Aleta knew when to whip out the guilt card.

Zoe turned the key. Her cute little BMW’s precision engine purred to life. “All right. I’ll be there.”

“Great.” The pleasure in her mom’s voice was almost worth the potential headache of dealing with her dad. “Dinner’s at three or so, but come anytime.”

Sunday, she got to the ranch at quarter of three just as everyone was sitting down in the dining room.

Her dad was aggravatingly hearty. “Zoe. How’s my little girl?”

“Great, Dad. Doing well.” She put on a big smile and reminded herself that when he said “little girl,” he meant it with love. And she was his youngest child—well, if you didn’t count Elena, her half sister, who was a year younger. She went to him and he grabbed her in a hug.

When she tried to slip free, he put his big hands on her shoulders and held her in place. “What in the hell did you do to your hair?”

I am not going to let him get to me. She eased free of his grip and smoothed the thick curls that fell below her shoulders. “I always wanted to be a redhead. Now I am.” Like most of her decisions, she’d made it on the fly Thursday, after her interview with Dax Girard, when she went in for a cut. She’d stared at her reflection in her hairdresser’s mirror and decided she was beyond tired of having brown hair. It had to go.

And no matter what her father said, she knew the vibrant red looked good on her. It set off her fair skin and blue eyes.

“Ahem, well,” said her dad. “It’s very—”

“You look so hot.” Marnie, her brother Jericho’s bride of a little over a month now, came to her rescue.

Zoe turned gratefully into new sister-in-law’s embrace. “Hey. How’s married life?”

Marnie released her and slanted a happy glance toward her groom. Jericho slowly smiled. It was hard to believe he’d always been the family’s troubled loner. He didn’t seem the least troubled now. For the first time, he was really happy. With his life. And his new wife.

“It’s good,” said Marnie. “It’s very, very good.”

“You look beautiful, honey,” Aleta declared, already in her chair. Zoe went over and kissed her mom’s cheek and then sat down.

They began passing the platters of juicy T-bones, corn on the cob and baked potatoes.

It was a big turnout for a family Sunday. Everyone had shown up this time except for Travis, youngest of the boys. Travis was always off on some oil rig somewhere.

Matt and Corrine’s six-year-old, Kira, told them all about her new puppy, Rosie. “Rosie loves Kathleen,” she announced. Kathleen was Matt and Corrine’s second child, born the previous September. “Rosie wants to lick Kathleen all over. That’s what a dog does when she wants to give you a kiss. She licks you. It’s kind of icky and they slobber, you know? But Mommy says it’s only from love, so it’s all right.”

It was nice, Zoe thought, to have a few little kids around now for family gatherings. Her brother Luke and his wife, Mercy, had a boy, Lucas. Gabe’s wife, Mary, had a girl from her first marriage; Ginny was two now. Gabe doted on her. And Tessa, Ash’s wife and Marnie’s older sister, was four and a half months pregnant, so another niece or nephew was on the way.

After the meal, Zoe played pool in the game room, doubles, Marnie and Jericho versus Zoe and Abilene, who was Zoe’s older sister by a year. As she bent over the table to set up a bank shot, Zoe realized she was having a great time. Really, she had to remember how much she enjoyed her family. She needed to show up at these things more often, not let her dad’s careless remarks keep her away.

Around seven, she thanked Luke, who lived at the ranch full-time. She hugged Jericho and Marnie and headed for the door.

Her dad caught her as she was making her escape. “Zoe, hold on.” She felt the knot of tension gather at the back of her neck as he strode toward her. He was sixty now, but he still carried himself as if he owned the world—and everyone in it.

She braced herself for more criticism. But he only grabbed her in a last hug and told her not to be a stranger.

She looked at up at him and smiled. “I won’t, Dad. I love you.”

Gruffly, he gave the words back to her. “And I love you, too. Very much.”

Her car waited in the circular drive at the foot of the wide front steps. She slid in behind the wheel, turned the engine on and rolled down the windows. The hot June wind blew in and ruffled her newly red hair. For a moment, she just sat there, staring at the ranch house, which was big and white and modeled after the governor’s mansion, complete with giant Doric columns marching impressively along the wide front verandah.

Then she laughed and gunned the engine and took off around the circle and down the long front driveway, headed back to SA and her own cute, cozy condo. Life, right then, seemed very good, indeed. She was young and strong and ready, at last, to be more focused, more mature, less … easily distracted.

Her new job at Great Escapes magazine began tomorrow. She couldn’t wait to get started.

“What in the hell did you do to your hair?”

Those were Dax’s first words to her Monday morning, when he got off the elevator and saw her sitting at her new desk where the HR person had left her.

Zoe pressed her lips together to stifle a cutting reply. She really didn’t want to start right off trading insults with the boss.

But on the other hand, she needed to be herself or this job wouldn’t last any longer than any of the others had. Being herself would have to include fighting back when Dax pissed her off.

And anyway, hadn’t he said he wanted someone with personality?

She yanked open the pencil drawer, grabbed the dagger-shaped letter opener from the tray within, raised it high and stabbed the air with it. “Do you realize that is exactly what my father said to me yesterday at Sunday dinner?”

He moved back a step and eyed the letter opener sideways.

She pressed her point—both literally and figuratively. “You don’t need to know all the issues I’ve got with my dad. You just need to know there are issues and you would do well not to turn out to be too much like him.”

With gratifying caution, Dax inquired, “Are you really planning to stab me with that thing?”

“Oh, I guess not.” She dropped it back in the pencil tray and shoved the drawer shut again. “I have to face facts. If I kill you, who will sign my paychecks?”

He was still staring at her hair. “Okay. Now that I’m over the shock, I admit it suits you,” he grumbled.

She gave him her sweetest smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And we can move on.”

“Coffee first,” he commanded low.

She peered at him more closely. Killer handsome, of course. But tired, too. There were dark circles under those wonderful bedroom eyes. “Long night?”

“Aren’t they all?” He named a place around the corner where the lattes were excellent. “Petty cash in the bottom drawer.”

She pulled out the drawer in question. There was a little safe mounted inside, with a combination lock. He rattled off the combination. She grabbed a pencil and jotted the numbers on a sticky note.

He said, “Get me the strongest coffee they’ve got, black, extra-large. When you bring it in to me, come armed with a notebook or your laptop and we’ll get down to what I want from you today. After that, you get with Lin Dietrich.” He turned and gazed over the large open workspace of desks, tables, machines and semi-cubicles. “Lin!”

A slim, beautiful Asian woman with a streak of cobalt blue in her thick, straight black bangs popped up from behind a glass partition. “What now?”

Dax signaled her over. When she reached his side, he announced proudly, “Lin’s the best editorial assistant I ever had, which means I had to promote her. My loss. Your gain. Lin is features editor now. But today, she’ll be with you, showing you everything you need to know.”

Lin gave Dax a narrow look, and then sent a wry smile in Zoe’s direction. “Because there’s nothing I need more than a little extra work to do.”

“I learn fast,” Zoe promised.

“Best news I’ve heard so far today.” Lin’s expression said she’d believe it when she saw it.

“Coffee,” Dax said one more time, in a pained voice. He turned and went into his office without waiting for a reply, swinging the door firmly shut behind him.

Lin laughed. “He’s always at his most charming on Monday mornings. Better get that coffee. I’m here when you’re ready for me.”

Dax finished telling Zoe what he wanted from her at a little after ten. She found Lin, who took a few minutes to introduce her around the office. More than one of her new colleagues teased her about falling for the boss. Wearily, Zoe reassured each one that it wasn’t going to be a problem.

Once the introductions were made, Lin then began guiding her through the mile-long list of high-priority duties Dax had given her.

At noon, she and Lin went to a coffee shop down the street for a quick lunch.

“I feel it’s only right that I say something,” Lin warned. “I can’t stress it strongly enough. If you fall for him, he will have to let you go.”

Zoe made the sign of the cross. “Lin. Please. Not you, too.”

“Did Dax warn you about the problem?”

“Repeatedly. And you heard the others back at the office. The subject is getting seriously old.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s an issue. You don’t have to take my word for it. Just wait. You’ll see. He loves women. Women love him. They can’t seem to help it. He can’t seem to say no.”

Zoe sipped her iced tea. “What about you? You were his assistant once. Did you fall in love with him?”

“Uh-uh. I had my secret weapon.” Lin held up her left hand. She wore a thick platinum wedding band.

“A husband.”

Lin beamed. “Roger.” She sighed in a dreamy way. “He’s an aerospace engineer.” She pulled her wallet from her giant black tote and took out a picture. Roger had blond hair, an angular face and thick-rimmed black glasses. “Hot, huh?”

“Very handsome.”

“He’s the only man for me.” Lin pressed the picture to her heart before tucking it away in her wallet again. “So I’m immune.”

“But what about every other woman in the office? I haven’t heard any predictions that they’re doomed to fall for Dax. What makes me so special?”

Lin shrugged. “It’s the constant proximity, I think.

The daily close exposure to him when you work directly for him. I don’t know what it is about him. He must have some genetic anomaly. An excess of sex pheromones maybe.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” Lin tipped her head, studying Zoe. “And you’re exactly his type.” The blue streak in her hair caught the light, gleaming. “It’s sad, really. I tend to think of it as Dax’s fatal flaw. He hires the pretty ones with personality. And then they fall head-over-heels for him.”

“Not me. Can we be done talking about this?”

Lin picked up her fork and stuck it in her Cobb salad. “Too bad you’re not already in love with someone else.”

… in love with someone else….

The words bounced around in Zoe’s brain.

Lin was right. Zoe needed a man. Her man. A man she adored, who adored her in return. Such a man would be the perfect way to get everyone at Great Escapes to stop predicting her inevitable, job-destroying, hopeless passion for the boss.

Too bad her man didn’t exist—or if he did, Zoe had failed, so far, to meet him.

She pushed her coleslaw around on her plate, considering. Not that she was in any way ready for her own personal hero, not yet. She had things to prove, a success to make in the business world, before she found the man for her and settled down.

Besides, right now she didn’t need an actual guy. No way. She didn’t have the time for a flesh-and-blood Mr. Wonderful who would drag along love and commitment and a shared mortgage. Uh-uh. It was the idea of the guy that mattered. It was that everyone believed she had a guy who was the only guy for her.

She slanted Lin a glance. “Maybe I am in love already.”

Sharp black eyes widening, Lin looked up from her plate. “There is someone special, then?”

“I … don’t want to say anything right now. It’s, um, well, it’s complicated.”

“Complicated is fine. Whatever. As long as there’s someone and you’re in love with him.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. If you’re serious about getting a start at Great Escapes, a special guy would be the best thing for you. And for Dax. And for the poor, overworked ladies down in HR.”

Chapter Two

Zoe took that whole week to make up her mind.

Really, it was a wild idea. Not to mention a total lie. She didn’t want to get involved in an elaborate fiction if she could avoid it. It could be dangerous. There was always the possibility she would get caught, and not only by tripping herself up. What if Dax ran into her mother or father or someone in the family and happened to mention that Zoe had a fiancé?

That could be embarrassing.

But, then, as far as tripping up, she could make notes, create her own personal hero from the ground up, so that he became the next thing to real for her. Then she would be unlikely to contradict herself when she spoke of him.

And as far as her family, well, how much chance was there that they would blow the whistle on her? It wasn’t as though Dax knew her family well, or hung around with them or anything. Even if he ran into her mother somewhere, it would only be Hello, how are you? And have a nice day.

True, her mom might ask how Zoe was doing on the job. He would say how great she was—well, he’d better say how great she was, because she intended to be even better at the job than Lin had been—and that would be that.

No reason a fiancé even had to come up.

And she wouldn’t have to tell the lie forever. Eventually, when she was certain that Dax had stopped worrying she might try to seduce him, when everyone in the office quit waiting for her to drag him into the supply closet and ravish him, she could end it with her imaginary groom-to-be. Because, well, sadly, sometimes even the most perfect relationships don’t last.

Yeah. It was workable. Totally workable.

Still, she hesitated. Maybe if she just held tight, the issue would resolve itself. Dax and everyone else at the office would see she wasn’t the least interested in him and that would be that.

She wished.

Unfortunately, as that first week went by, it was becoming painfully clear that the issue was not resolving itself, that she had to do something.

Because Dax really was very attractive. He was so smart and funny. So yummy to look at. And he always smelled wonderful—fresh and clean, a little minty. And way too manly.

And now and then, she’d catch him watching her in a speculative way. As though he was attracted to her, too. As if he saw the inevitable approaching and wasn’t dreading it all that much, that she was bound to make a pass at him and he was bound to take her up on it.

And then he would have to tell her that she wasn’t working out. She’d be out of a job and her father would give her a hard time about it, once more making Sunday dinner at the ranch an experience she only wanted to avoid.

Thursday, as she was trying to make some headway organizing Dax’s bottomless pile of slush submissions, the elevator doors rolled wide and a tall brunette in four-inch cage heels and satin cargoes stepped off. She smoothed her Grecian-style chiffon top, which had a plunging neckline that lovingly revealed a lot of ripe, tanned cleavage.

“Dax, please.” She ordered him up like a cocktail, in a husky voice, batting her big Bambi eyes.

“Have a seat. I’ll just buzz him and see if he’s—”

“Oh, he’ll see me.” The woman breezed right on by.

“Wait. You can’t …”

But apparently, she could. She already had his door open and was lounging seductively against the door frame. “Dax.”

“Faye,” he said from within. “What a surprise.”

Zoe jumped up. “Uh, Faye, if you’ll only wait a minute, I’ll just—”

Dax cut her off. “It’s all right, Zoe.” Did he sound annoyed—with her, for not stopping the woman in time? Or with Faye, for popping up out of nowhere to lounge against his office door? Zoe couldn’t tell. And she couldn’t read his expression, as Faye was blocking her view. “Hold my calls,” he instructed.

“Uh. Sure.”

Faye sent a triumphant smile over her shoulder as she went in and shoved the door shut with the tall heel of her cage shoe.

When she came out twenty-eight minutes later, there was no mistaking the glow to her cheeks and the swollen, red, very-much-kissed look about her full lips. The dark brown hair was a bit mussed. And the Grecian-inspired top draped a little differently than when she’d gone in.

She blew a tender kiss in through the open doorway. “Tomorrow night?”

“I can’t wait,” came Dax’s deep, smooth voice from inside the office.

With one last knowing glance in Zoe’s general direction, Faye strutted into the elevator. The doors slowly closed. Zoe shifted her gaze back to her computer screen. She stared blindly at a proposal titled, “Pack It Lite: Never Check a Bag Again,” and tried to figure out exactly what she was feeling.

It couldn’t be jealousy, could it?

It couldn’t be that she could actually picture herself coming out of Dax’s office with her shirt on crooked and her hair all wild?

No. Absolutely not. She wanted this job. She liked this job. And nothing—especially not a burning desire to get down with the boss—was going to mess this up for her.

Friday, when she came in after lunch, Dax called her in for an afternoon huddle.

They had a lot to do and a short time to do it in. He would be gone from the office after next Wednesday. Thursday morning, he and a photographer and Lulu Grimes, one of the associate editors, were off to Melbourne for the December Spotlight, “Aussie Holiday.”

He would be gone a full week. He wanted to be sure she had his travel arrangements under control. Also, he needed to make the most of the time he had in the office next week. Scheduling had to be flawless. And he had to have everything that would need doing while he was in Australia effectively delegated.

Twice during that meeting, she caught him looking at her legs. This was not good—especially since she found she liked to have him looking at her legs.

Something definitely had to be done.

Saturday morning, she took action. She found a dingy little shop in a part of SA where she would never run into anyone she knew. The brawny, heavily tattooed guy behind the desk offered a nice range of cubic zirconia engagement and wedding rings. She chose a fat emerald-cut solitaire in a faux-platinum setting. It looked impressive—and real—on her finger, the price was right and the fake stone was really, really big and sparkly.

She took the ring home. Monday, before she went to the office, she slipped it onto her ring finger.

An hour and ten minutes later, when the elevator doors slid wide and Dax stepped off, the art assistant, two associate editors and Lin were gathered in an admiring circle around Zoe’s desk.

Dax wore dark glasses. And even though Zoe couldn’t see his eyes, he looked at least as tired and cranky as he had the Monday before. Had he been with Faye all weekend? If so, the woman must be insatiable. He looked drained of energy—and probably bodily fluids, as well.

“What’s going on?” he groused. “Why aren’t you people working? There’s a planning meeting at ten in the conference room downstairs.”

“Dax.” Lin answered for all of them. “We know. We actually do get your memos. And after we get them, we read them.”

He made a growly sort of sound low in his throat. “I’ll expect at least five solid ideas from each of you. And Zoe, where’s my coffee?”

Lin gave her a big smile. “Zoe, it’s so beautiful. Seriously, I’m beyond happy for you.” She winked so fast that only Zoe could have seen it and added archly, “On more than one level.” She turned to go. The others dispersed with her.

Zoe grabbed the coffee she’d picked up on the way in and held it out to him. “Venti, bold and black. Good morning, Dax.”

He took the coffee. “What’s beautiful? Why is Lin happy for you?”

She held up her other hand and wiggled her fingers. The fake diamond glittered in a satisfyingly blinding fashion. “Johnny proposed,” she announced on a happy sigh. “And I told him yes.”

He took the lid off his coffee and stared down into it. Even though the sunglasses obscured his eyes, she assumed he was checking to make sure she hadn’t slipped a little half and half in there or something. He sniffed at the contents and then demanded darkly, “Who’s Johnny?”

She arranged her expression into a thoughtful frown. “Didn’t I tell you about Johnny?”

“Not one word.”

“Oh, I can’t believe I never mentioned Johnny.” She released another gusty sigh. “What can I say about Johnny?” She waved the hand with the ring on it. Flashes of refracted light bounced off the acoustical tile ceiling. “I met him at Stanford. Years ago. He’s from a really old and important California family. He moved to San Antonio last fall. We’ve been dating— both seriously and exclusively. Saturday, he asked me to be his wife.”

Dax winced as he took off the sunglasses. “Well, give Johnny my congratulations. He’s a fortunate man.” He squinted at her. She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed that they weren’t ever having sex after all. Or if he just had a really bad hangover.

She beamed. “Yes, he’s a lucky man. And I’m a happy, happy woman.” She tried to look deeply in love as well as sexually sated.

His brow crinkled. “So does this mean you’ll be giving me notice?”

She blinked. “Notice? Of course not. I intend to work for you for years and years.”

He reminded her drily, “That is, if you pass your two-week review.”

She brushed a curl of red hair back over her shoulder. “You know I will. Already, after one week, you can’t function without me. And Johnny knows I love my new job. He would never ask me to quit.”

“Johnny sounds like a real prize,” he remarked with absolutely no inflection.

“Oh, he is, he is.”

“In fact, he almost sounds too good to be true.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “He does, doesn’t he? But he is very real. A man of flesh and blood, of—”

“Zoe?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t overplay it.” He gave her one of those looks, both patient and all-knowing. Was he on to her little deception—already, when she’d barely begun it?

Surely not.

She smiled at him, a sweet smile. Angelic, even.

“All right, Dax. I’ll do my best to keep my unbounded, ecstatic happiness to myself.”

“Excellent. We need to prep for the meeting.”

“The caterers from the bakery should be here by nine-thirty.”

“Good. Give me ten minutes to pull myself together. We’ll do a quick once-over of what has to be covered before we go down.”

“I’m ready.”

He shook his head. “Are you always so eager on a Monday morning?”

She beamed. “I’m young, I’m in love and I’ve got a great job.”

“Ugh.” He put his dark glasses back on. “That does it. I absolutely forbid you to smile again until at least 11 a.m.”

“I live to serve.” She mugged an exaggerated frown.

“There. That’s more like it.”

During the first three days of that week, Zoe made up a lot of stuff about Johnny—most of it on the spot when someone would ask her a question about him and she would have to produce an answer. Later, at home alone in the evening, she would open her “Johnny” file and add in whatever new information she’d fabricated about the new love of her life. It worked out well. She made up stuff and then she made sure she remembered what she’d said.

Johnny, as it turned out, was allergic to strawberries. His last name was Schofield—of the Mendocino Scho-fields. He traveled a lot, taking care of various “family interests.” He loved long walks on the beach and quiet nights at home and he was an accomplished horseman.

He had moss-green eyes and dark gold hair that Zoe loved to run her fingers through. He was tender and loving, a good listener. He truly was the perfect man.

Well, except for the fact that he didn’t exist.

Wednesday afternoon, as they were going over Dax’s travel checklist for the last time, Zoe caught him yet again looking at her legs. She went right on with her rundown of his itinerary. There was no law that said he couldn’t look.

She felt much more relaxed around him now. More confident in her ability to resist his considerable charm and powerful sex appeal. Johnny, as it turned out, had been just what she needed to help her keep her priorities in order.

Her big fake engagement diamond glittered at her, reminding her that she knew what she wanted and she would not be distracted from what mattered in her life. She smiled a soft, contented smile. She was keeping this job and she was going to be the best editorial assistant there was. Eventually, she might move on to become an editor in her own right.

Or, if Dax was willing to pay her enough to continue as his assistant, she would consider a new title of Executive Secretary to the Editor-in-Chief. And the fat paycheck that went with it.

She was going to go far at Great Escapes. But all in good time.

Thursday, with Dax on his way to Australia, she dug into the slush pile. She wanted to get caught up on the unagented submissions, get them logged and categorized by the time he returned.

She liked reading slush. She found she could pick out the stories with potential. Those she flagged so Dax would be sure to give them a more careful look.

Reading slush also helped her to get ideas of her own. It inspired her to think in terms of what kinds of stories and features she might contribute to Great Escapes. It never hurt to plan ahead, to start preparing for the day when coming up with a story might become part of her job.

Sunday, the Fourth of July, she went out to the ranch again. She got there at eleven in the morning and stayed for the fireworks after dark. She had a great time, enjoyed the meal and the family conversation, and didn’t once want to burst into tears because of some thoughtless remark her dad had made.

Monday at noon, she slipped off the fake diamond she’d put on that morning and met her sister Abilene for lunch at the Riverwalk. They split a turkey and mozzarella panini and Zoe talked about how much she loved her new job, while Abilene tried hard to stay upbeat.

Back in January, Abilene had won an important fellowship to co-design a children’s center in collaboration with a certain world-famous architect. Now, months later, the project was on hold for some reason that was unclear to Abilene.

At least she’d managed to get some temporary work, thanks to Javier Cabrera. Javier owned Cabrera Construction and had been kind enough to take Abilene under his wing, hiring her to do some drafting for him and also to help him out at the construction sites of a couple of houses he was building.

Javier’s relationship to the Bravo family was complicated, to say the least. But Abilene didn’t seem to care about the family issues. She really liked Javier and appreciated that he’d put her on his payroll until the fellowship came through.

“If it ever does,” Abilene said with a heavy sigh. “By now, I’m beginning to wonder. And I am beyond frustrated with the whole situation.”

They agreed it was pretty ironic, actually. Always in the past, Abilene was the one who knew what she wanted from life and stayed happy and focused, working toward her goals. Now, Zoe was the one doing work that she loved. And Abilene was feeling powerless, trying to decide what she ought to do now: start looking for fulltime work. Or keep waiting in hopes that the fellowship would finally come through.

Dax returned Thursday morning. He called Zoe in first thing and they had a two-hour huddle, catching up, organizing priorities for the next couple of days.

When she stood to return to her desk, he said, “It’s good to be back, Zoe. I missed you. Lulu doesn’t read my mind anywhere near as well as you do.”

It was a huge compliment. She clutched her laptop to her chest and tried not to look as dewy-eyed and thrilled as she felt. “Good. It was always my plan to become indispensable.”

“And I’m beginning to believe your plan is working.” They shared a long look—too long. He blinked first. “So, how’s it going with Johnny?”

She almost asked, Who? But by some minor miracle, she caught herself in time. “He’s … wonderful. In, uh, New York for a couple days. Left this morning, as a matter of fact. Some Wall Street deal, I think.”

“Ah.”

They looked at each other some more.

Get a grip, Zoe. Get it firm and get it now. “Well, okay, then. I’ll just … go on back to my desk.”

He nodded and reached for the phone. Twenty minutes later, he was on his way to a meeting. And another after that. The meetings went on until two.

At two-thirty, he went to work finishing the Spotlight on the Australian trip, locking himself in his office, only accepting calls if something absolutely couldn’t wait. He stayed until after seven, and she stayed, too, just in case he might need anything while he pushed through to his deadline.

When he left, he asked her to look over what he’d written, just for grammar and punctuation. She said she would be happy to and tried not to let him see how ridiculously pleased and honored she felt.

She took the piece home with her and read it eagerly over take-out pot stickers and fried rice, red pencil within reach. It was really good. But then, his Spotlights always were. He had a master’s in Journalism from Yale. More than that, though, he was a fine writer. He wrote with authority, but in an easy conversational style. He made you feel like you were there, with him, no matter how distant or exotic the locale.

In the morning, she emailed him back the manuscript. As she was leaving him after the usual huddle, she told him the Aussie holiday Spotlight was excellent.

He arched a brow. “No changes?”

She gave him a slow smile. They both knew the question was a test. He hadn’t asked her to do an edit. “Three or four typos. I corrected them.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“Do you realize that it’s been over two weeks since you started and we’ve yet to get to that review?”

She shrugged. “It’s been a busy time.”

He agreed. “It’s always busy around here.”

She suggested, “Maybe … next week?”

“How about right now?”

Her stomach lurched, which was absurd. He was happy with her work. He’d made that abundantly clear. She had nothing to worry about.

“All right.” She settled back down into the club chair. Her palms were actually sweating. She had to resist the need to rub them on her skirt. What was her problem? They both knew he was going to offer her a permanent job.

Didn’t they?

He said, dark eyes knowing, “Zoe, are you nervous?”

She considered lying. She’d made up a fiancé, for heaven’s sake. To lie about being anxious should be nothing next to that. But then, in the end, she told the truth. “Yeah.” She let out a careful breath. “Whew. It’s crazy, because I know I’m doing a terrific job for you. But I am nervous.”

“Why?” He was looking at her so steadily. With real interest. Maybe more interest than he ought to have in his assistant—his engaged assistant. She wished he would stop looking at her that way.

But he didn’t.

And perversely, she loved that he didn’t.

Her nervousness turned to something else. Something a lot like excitement.

She told the truth again. “I love this job. I’ve finally found something that suits me. There’s never a dull moment. I can handle this job, but it doesn’t bore me.

There’s always something new, something to challenge me. I wake up in the morning and I look forward to going to work. Until Great Escapes, I never felt that way about anything—at least not for more than ten minutes or so.”

“You want to stay.”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“You did. And I’m glad you did.” He stared at her some more. Her cheeks felt warm. She had this … glowing sensation, kind of fizzy and happy and so very lovely. “Now is the time I should tell you where your work falls short.”

She wanted to be the best, which meant she had to be open to criticism, to ways she could improve. “Yes. Good idea.”

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“Uh.” Alarm jangled through her. What was he trying to say? “You are?”

“Because your work doesn’t fall short.”

Her alarm turned to satisfaction. Was she grinning like an idiot? Probably. But so what? She worked damned hard and it was good to hear how he appreciated that.

He said, “You’re a self-starter, but you have no problem asking for help when you need it. You take criticism well, and you make use of it. So far, I only have to tell you once when I want you to change something you’re doing.”

The fizzy, bright feeling was back. And getting stronger. He kept on looking at her. Admiringly. Almost hopefully. She stared at his mouth and wondered what his lips would feel like touching hers. She thought about how she really would like, someday, to find out.

And then the phone rang.

Dax didn’t answer it. In fact, he had the thoroughly unreasonable urge to pick the damn thing up, rip the cord free of the jack and throw it hard against the wall.

For a minute there, he’d almost thought Zoe was about to make a move on him. And being human and male, he’d wanted her to. A lot.

Which made him pretty damn stupid now, didn’t it? If the phone hadn’t rung, if she had made a move on him, he would very likely have taken her up on it.

And then, one way or another, he would have ended up losing the best assistant he’d ever had—even better than Lin.

The phone rang a second time. And a third.

When Zoe started to rise, he said low, “Don’t. The front desk can take a message.”

She sank back into the chair, a slightly stunned look on her face, those very kissable lips of hers parted, breathless. She knew exactly what had almost happened.

Did she regret that it hadn’t? He couldn’t help but hope so.

The phone jangled once more. And then it was quiet.

Neither of them said a word. He was aware that the tension between them was dissipating, that the dangerous moment had passed. They would not become lovers. And he would not have to try to find someone to replace her.

He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved.

Or furious.

Zoe started to lick her lips, caught herself doing it and made herself stop. Her heart was suddenly going a hundred miles an hour, just galloping away in her chest, like wild mustangs on steroids.

That had been close.

Too close. Lucky for her, the phone had rung. If not, she might have …

She cut that thought dead.

No. She wouldn’t have. She had her priorities in order. The job was what counted. Yes, she had a thing for the boss. A minor thing, a totally get-overable thing, just like every other woman on the planet.

She would get past it. Over time, the attraction would fade by itself. And when it did, she would still be working at Great Escapes.

Dax started discussing her salary.

She had the sense of having passed some important test, of having chosen the job she loved over the man everybody loved. She knew she had made the best choice.

And yet, she still couldn’t completely deny a certain sadness, a touch of tender melancholy. She caught her left hand with her right and turned the big, fake diamond idly back and forth as she and Dax discussed his expectations of her—and hers, of the job.

She knew what she wanted and she had it in her grasp: her dream career. And it—this, now—was only the beginning. She was going to go far. She knew it. She was absolutely certain of it. She could go to Sunday dinner at Bravo Ridge for the rest of her life and not care what thoughtless remarks her dad might toss off at her. The free spirit of the family was all grown up now, taking on a professional woman’s responsibilities and loving every minute of it.

Uh-uh. She was not sad. Not sad in the least. She would never know what it would feel like to kiss Dax Girard. And that was fine. It was right.

She had made her choice and she was at peace with it.