The Playboy's Office Romance. Karen Whittenburg Toller
of ice couldn’t have been cooler than the gaze she narrowed on him. “The board will not ask me to take on the position of CEO, although they should. No one is better qualified or loves this company more than I.”
Certainly not you, was the crisp subtext. Lara might not like him, but she never disappointed him with false flattery. “I agree with you,” he said, switching tone and trying sincerity for a change. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’ve earned the job.”
She blinked. “You do?”
“You betcha.” Bryce actually thought there was a possibility the board might name her Chief Operating Officer, which would be a coup for both her and the company in his opinion. Not that anyone was likely to ask his opinion. “Much better you than me.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to argue that point.”
Oddly, he had. For no reason other than she never agreed with him on anything, whether he was right or wrong. It rankled, somehow, that for the five or more years she’d worked as Adam’s assistant at Braddock Industries, Bryce had yet to convince her he was not a moron simply because his life philosophy didn’t involve a three-piece suit and a leather briefcase. She persisted in believing he had about as much depth as a wading pool. Not that he’d ever expended much effort to disabuse her of the idea. “Believe it or not, Lara, arguing isn’t the only way to carry on a conversation with me.”
“You can’t believe the board would seriously consider you,” she said with unflattering conviction. “You’ve never worked a day in your life. You wouldn’t take the job even if they were—” She stopped herself, but he easily filled in the blank with a silent “stupid enough to give it to you,” although she finished with a less offensive, “—inclined to give it to you, anyway.”
“You probably shouldn’t count on the board offering the position to you, either.”
Her expression changed again, became defensive. “I never count on anything,” she said sharply. “Life is safer that way.”
“Also boring.”
“Well, we can’t all live the fascinating life you do, can we, Bryce? Someone has to be responsible for running the family business.”
This was getting personal and he didn’t like it. Bad enough he’d grown up in the awesome shadow that Adam cast, he didn’t need Adam’s assistant—beautiful as she was—taking over that duty now that Adam wasn’t here to do it. “Yes, Lara, someone does have to be responsible and I’m very happy it doesn’t have to be me.”
“That makes two of us.”
She turned to go, the wine swirling to the brim of her glass in her agitation and haste, but her exit was blocked by the halting approach of Archer Braddock and Ilsa Fairchild, arm in arm, smiling as if they’d been out for a lover’s stroll in the moonlight. “Lara,” Archer said, smiling. “You look lovely, my dear. I know you’re going to miss Adam as much as the rest of us.”
“Probably more.”
Archer’s laughter was gruff and held a note of weariness in it.
“I suspect that is certainly true. You’ve met Mrs. Fairchild?” He indicated Ilsa beside him, then seemed to remember he’d introduced them earlier in the day. “Oh, of course you have.”
“Yes,” Lara’s smile was real this time and reached Bryce by default. “It was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it?”
“Lovely and unusual,” Ilsa agreed, “Very much like Katie, don’t you think?”
“Possibly. I don’t know her well at all.”
Bryce realized then that part of Lara’s edginess stemmed not from her dislike of him, but from uncertainty. She’d thought all along that she knew Adam so well—better maybe than anyone—and suddenly, he’d met Katie then become someone she didn’t know at all. Now he was gone and her position at the company was precarious. Bryce couldn’t believe she would lose her job—the woman was a huge asset. He had no doubt she could run the company without a Braddock anywhere around to advise her. She loved the business. It was her passion. He’d observed her at the office enough to recognize passion when he saw it. But it was a huge operation and a family one, besides. And if James or Peter were tapped for the position, it was entirely possible Lara would be phased out in favor of someone who didn’t worship quite so loyally at Adam’s shrine. That, in Bryce’s opinion, would be a waste of a great resource, not that anyone cared what his opinion might be.
“Bryce,” Archer said to him, the note of weariness dropping away before a chairman of the board tone of sobriety. “Congratulations are in order for you today, too.”
Bryce grinned, suspecting his grandfather was going to tease him about breaking time-honored tradition and snagging the bride’s bouquet for himself. “News of my own impending marriage is greatly exaggerated, Grandfather,” he said. “Bouquet or no bouquet, it’s merely a superstition.”
Archer smiled and set a firm, if slightly shaky, hand on Bryce’s shoulder. “But news of your appointment as the new CEO of Braddock Industries isn’t. The board met yesterday and you were elected by a unanimous vote. Congratulations.”
Bryce felt his throat close as the noise of conversation in the room faded to a dull, background buzz. Chief Executive Officer? Him? He swallowed, wished he had something else to drink, something strong and caffeinated and not even slightly intoxicating, although he was far from drunk now. “CEO?” he repeated stupidly, but his grandfather was moving on, leaning more heavily on his cane than normal, his shoulders showing the slight droop of a long, exhausting, exciting week.
And suddenly, Bryce recognized the energetic zing coursing through his veins. Excitement. He was the new CEO. He’d been elected by the board. Unanimously. This was Adam’s doing. Maybe Archer, too, had done some behind the scenes politicking. Even James could have twisted an arm or two. Bryce knew he couldn’t claim to deserve this opportunity, hadn’t ever allowed himself to believe he wanted it. But now that it was his, he took it as the gift Adam had surely meant it to be. “Wow,” he said, turning with a smile and coming face-to-face with the outrage and anger in a pair of beautiful violet-blue eyes.
“Congratulations,” Lara said tightly. “My resignation will be on your desk Monday morning.” Then she was gone…not even noticing she’d managed to wipe the smile right off of his face.
Chapter Two
“Look, Mommy!”
The high, reedy voice broke through Lara’s fierce attempt at concentration for the umpteenth time. She sighed, laid her thin, platinum pen sideways across the resignation which she couldn’t seem to stop editing and walked around the big mahogany desk. Grasping the arms of the black leather chair, she stopped it in midspin and leaned in until she was eye level with her nephew. “Calvin?” she said as patiently as a weekend’s worth of worry and fretting and not enough sleep would allow. “I’m Aunt Lara. Remember? We talked about this yesterday.” And the day before that and the day before that. Several times a day, in fact, every single day of the twelve and a half days since she’d rescued the four-year-old from his father, her no-account brother, Derrick. “I’m not your mommy.”
Calvin squinched his big brown eyes into a tight frown, which instantly resolved into a heart-squeezing, gap-toothed grin. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I ‘member.”
Lara smiled back because it was impossible not to and because she wanted the little guy to feel good about himself. Lord knew, his situation wasn’t anything to smile about and the child-development books she’d been reading by the pound all spent endless pages on the importance of self-esteem. “Did you need something, Cal?” she asked, prodding him to recall why he’d interrupted her this time.
“Yeah. This is a cool chair.” He pried her hands easily from the leather and used them to push off, spinning in a continuous circle of big black chair and small,