Читать книгу Bachelor Boss - Pamela Ingrahm, Pamela Ingrahm - Страница 9

Chapter One

As far as birthdays went, Madalyn Wier had had better.

If there was one thing that would salvage being thirty, a single mother and facing unemployment, it would be landing an executive assistant position at Ambercroft, Inc.

Madalyn craned her head back to look at the massive building standing as a testament to old money and exemplary architecture. The tip of the hundred-story-plus structure pressed into the Dallas sky, as if to say heaven itself made room for the Ambercrofts.

Crossing her arms against the brisk spring wind, she waited for traffic to clear. Obviously, the hospitality Texans were known for disappeared after four o’clock during the work week. At least in downtown Dallas....

Once across the street, she paused outside the heavy, leaded glass doors and adjusted her suit jacket. With a deep breath, she went inside and moved confidently to the reception desk... or as close to confident as she could manage. At least she hoped she looked confident.

The first thing that struck her as she waited for the receptionist to acknowledge her was that the woman looked agitated. While Madalyn knew well how harrying the job could be, somehow showing it didn’t seem...Ambercroft-ish.

She gave the woman time to answer a crush of phone calls and glanced around the lobby. Marble floors polished to a diamond sheen ended in walls of dark wood. A section of marble stretching to the vaulted ceiling framed the portraits of five generations of Ambercrofts, each representative impeccably dressed in a dark suit. The styles themselves were a statement to the duration of the family legacy, and it was a bit unnerving to be stared at by the daunting figures. Madalyn assumed that was the point—to make sure all visitors knew they were entering a bastion of power.

With each successive generation, the men became more handsome, but somehow increasingly stern. Until the portrait of the youngest, Philip Ambercroft. Philip Ambercroft IV, to be exact. While being by far the most handsome, he alone wore a Mona Lisa smile that easily caught her attention. Maybe it was because she’d seen so many photographs of him in everything from news weeklies to the tabloids, or maybe it was just her imagination, but he seemed to want the viewer to wonder just what was going on behind that intelligent face.

At a break in the incessant but muted ringing. Madalyn stepped forward. “Excuse me—”

“Ms. Fox is away for a minute. I’m from Accounting and just—” The woman jabbed at the telephone and gave Madalyn a less than warm look, as if the new call was her fault. “Reception. No, please hold.” Jab. “What do you need?”

“I’m here to apply for a position with—”

Jab. “Reception. Please hold.”

“—Mr. Ambercroft?”

“Mr. Ambercroft is on the twenty-first floor.”

“I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood—”

The ersatz receptionist held the receiver away from her ear and pinned Madalyn with a glare. “I said twenty-first floor.”

Recoiling from the angry, haughty look, and in no mood to argue, Madalyn headed for the bank of elevators nestled in granite. Maybe someone on the twenty-first floor could direct her to the personnel office with a bit more tact and grace.

It was at times like these that Madalyn wished she could take the risk and open her own nursery. At least roses and ficuses didn’t glare at you and get snippy. But that old dream was out of reach. She needed a steady paycheck and benefits now that she had more than just herself to think of.

The elevator ride up was smooth and quick, but then again, she was in the Ambercroft building, and machinery didn’t dare perform less than perfectly. When the doors slid open, she stepped out onto a sea of mint-green carpet that felt as though it had a mile of padding underneath. She allowed herself an entire minute of slack-jawed awe. A vacant secretary’s desk sat in front of her, bigger than any executive’s desk she’d ever seen, and state-of-the-art everything was neatly arranged on the exquisitely grained wood. The guest couch and chairs whispered upholstered elegance and the door off to the left fairly bellowed that this was the entrance to the inner sanctum.

Madalyn stifled a giggle when she envisioned a sleekly polished Miss Moneypenny type sitting behind that desk. But no Miss Moneypenny sat there now, and Madalyn was fairly certain this wasn’t the personnel department.

She was about to turn around and head back to the first floor to try again, when the door to the inner sanctum opened. Somehow, the way this day had gone, it didn’t surprise her in the least that Philip Ambercroft came out with a harried expression on his face, engrossed in something on the page he was holding.

He was so much more striking in person than in print, or oil and canvas for that matter, that Madalyn was startled. She’d heard the expression chiseled to define someone’s features before, but he was the first person she’d met who truly fit the description. European royalty was all she could think of to conceptualize the thoughts whirring through her head, but from what she knew through her extensive reading, she doubted such fiercely proud Americans as the Ambercrofks would appreciate the analogy. In fact, they were just as fiercely Texan.

He was almost on top of her before he pulled up short. He gave her a quick glance and turned toward the desk, his jaw snapping shut when he didn’t find the person he so obviously expected to be there.

“Just have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

Without another word, he entered the elevator and punched a button, leaving Madalyn with the lingering trace of his crisp, clean cologne.

When she finally remembered to breathe, she took a seat as instructed. She didn’t have much choice. Her knees had just given out.

Not five inches from her. Philip Ambercroft had been not five inches from her. She’d been close enough to see the light-colored flecks in his blue eyes. She could have reached out and touched the lock of midnight-black hair that had fallen rakishly over his forehead and discovered if it was as velvety soft as it looked. Her fingertip could have traced the slight bow of his strong, upper lip—

“Get a grip, Madalyn!” She said the words aloud to give them more impact. The fact that her fingers trembled as she swiped them across her forehead didn’t give her much confidence. She had to get herself together before she blew it completely.

Praying Mr. Ambercroft would stay gone for a few minutes, she worked on composing herself. The open position was with Gene Ambercroft, not Philip, so that was two mistakes she could thank the pseudo-receptionist for—me wrong floor and the wrong Ambercroft, but there was no sense in getting frustrated. She could just chalk it up to a day full of frustrations.

Now that she’d seen him, in the flesh, she couldn’t get her mind off Philip Ambercroft. She could admit in the privacy of her own mind that she—along with about ten million other Americans—had an intense curiosity about the Ambercrofts. They were American royalty, and the press treated them accordingly.

Unlike the female population of America, though, she was fascinated by the business tycoon Philip, not his playboy brother. She wouldn’t mind working for Gene, but it was the oldest Ambercroft brother who had captured her imagination from the first article she’d ever read on the famous family.

There was something about him, something intriguing, that was so much more interesting than mere sex appeal. While definitely as sexy as his baby brother, Philip was the one who exuded confidence and grace, not mere raw testosterone—at least in her opinion. She decided that wasn’t really fair to Gene. It was the reporters who concentrated on his dating life. She doubted anyone really wanted their every move cataloged in a magazine, although Gene knew how to play the paparazzi and keep them among his adoring throng. They didn’t seem to bother him here at home, but loved to follow him abroad.

Reporters did their fair share of cataloging Philip’s dates, but Philip didn’t have the patience Gene seemed to have. He considered it an infringement on his privacy and often said so. While Madalyn admitted that she envied the tall beauties pictured on his arm, she had the feeling an evening with Philip would be as absorbing intellectually as it was stimulating, and would be worth a hassle with the press.

Reminding herself she needed to get out of there before Philip returned, she picked up her purse and folder and prepared to find the personnel office. This was a chance of a lifetime, and she didn’t intend to blow it. If she had the choice, she’d work for Price Manufacturing forever, but that wasn’t possible so the issue was moot. Mr. and Mrs. Price were like surrogate parents to her, and surrogate grandparents to Erin, and her concern for them was just one more reason she wanted this job. She didn’t want the Prices worrying about her when they had enough troubles these days. The Prices had a whole company of loyal employees they were about to have to let go, while she only had Erin to worry about.

Just thinking about Erin made Madalyn smile. She still wasn’t sure how just three years ago she’d been positive she never wanted children. Now, of course, she couldn’t imagine life without her precious daughter.

But now was not the time to be reflecting on the not-quite-two-year-old pixie who took up her every spare moment. Now was the time to be concentrating on getting a job that would provide the little pixie with a home and day care and clothes and food....

Just as Madalyn reached for the elevator button, the bell chimed and the doors opened. She stepped back with renewed aplomb.

“Mr. Ambercroft,” she said, acknowledging him as she prepared to slip by. “Excuse me.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Where are you going?”

“Going?”

“Yes. Isn’t that file for me?” he asked, nodding toward her arm.

She knew from her contact at the employment agency that Philip would be making the final decision on the applicants, which seemed a bit odd to her, but maybe it was because Gene was out of the country. In the end, it wasn’t something to worry about. Yet she hadn’t expected Philip to be quite so involved at this stage.

“Well, I...suppose it is, in a way....”

He reached for the file, his fingers brushing her arm as he took it from her grasp. The sensation flustered her, making her forget what she was going to say.

She watched, speechless, as he opened the folder and read for a moment. Another frown crossed his forehead.

“What’s this?” he asked, glancing up. “Where’s the Ashton Hills report?”

“Ashton Hills?”

“Aren’t you from Denham’s office?”

“Um...no, I’m—”

“If you’re not from Denham’s office, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here about the executive assistant position open for Mr. Ambercroft.”

His whole demeanor changed instantly. His back straightened, the hint of a smile that had been playing at the edge of his mouth disappeared and he gave her a once-over that bordered on offensive. He seemed to catalog every inch of her bust, the narrowness of her waist and the exact flare of her hips—as if he could see through the boxy cut of her fashionable but reserved suit His eyes made a slow sweep of her legs before coming back to her face.

“I’m sorry, Miss—” he glanced at her résumé again “—Price.”

“I currently work for Price Manufacturing. My name is Madalyn Wier.”

The man stopped short again, but Madalyn couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. She had the distinct impression he’d just done another mercurial shift, but she was clueless as to why a bit of the warmth returned to his face. Now he was reading her résumé as if he hadn’t seen it before.

This time, when he looked up, the smile was back, but she would have bet her last nickel that something significant had changed. It wasn’t in the curve of his lips; it was in his eyes, eyes that said he missed little.

“Ms. Wier, I apologize for the mix-up. Would you come into my office? I’d like to get this straightened out.”

He didn’t give her a chance to waver. He came closer and took her elbow, ushering her politely toward his door.

Madalyn’s breath caught again at his touch, and she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping. She could only hope she appeared calm and professional on the outside, because her insides were a wreck. She had no choice, really, but to go along with Philip, and she offered a quick prayer that this impromptu interview would be just the break she needed.

Philip’s mind was already whirling as he walked around his desk and took a seat while he studied her file with more care. When he was finished, he stalled for a bit more time by shuffling a pile of papers. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being slow on his feet, and if he played this right, he might just salvage a week from hell and get some information on a company he had his eye on, to boot.

Philip didn’t question the marvelous opportunities that had come to him over the years, events he could never have planned or predicted. He was, however, smart enough to act on them...immediately.

He’d been about to dismiss Ms. Wier out of hand—after all, she was much too attractive to even consider interviewing for Gene’s position—when a plan started coming together. There were those who didn’t think he had a heart, much less a libido, but Ms. Wier had already proven she could raise both his pulse and his... imagination. Feeling that instantaneous reaction, that unexpected response, hadn’t happened in so very long, he couldn’t help but be amazed. And it had certainly never happened with an employee.

But Ms. Wier’s attributes weren’t the point. The fact that she met so many needs at one time made her beauty serendipitous.

Number one, his secretary was on an extended leave, and he hadn’t kept a temp for more than a day for the last week. One had walked out at lunch and never returned. One had been pregnant and gone into premature labor. One had taken ill with the stomach flu. He wasn’t sure why his luck was running so sour in this area, but it was becoming a bit annoying.

Number two, Ms. Wier had an impressive résumé, including a tenure with a company he had his sights on. Price Manufacturing would make a nice addition to the Ambercroft portfolio of companies.

Number three, he wanted more information before he made a move on Price Manufacturing, and who knew more about a company than an executive assistant?

Hell would freeze over, however, before he let his little brother hire a secretary like Ms. Wier. Gene had used Ambercroft, Inc., as his personal procuring service for the last time. When he came back from Europe with his latest secretary-turned-lover, he was going to find an efficient, talented and decidedly matronly secretary waiting for him. Philip had already thought of a few words to describe Ms. Wier, but matronly wasn’t even in the same dictionary.

So, his most urgent needs were met in the attractive little package sitting patiently across from him with her hands folded in her lap. He’d have to do all the sensitive letters himself since his secretary wouldn’t be back for at least a month, but he could get a mountain of correspondence on other matters dictated and off his desk. Surely, in the weeks remaining until Mrs. Montague returned, he could get caught up and possibly discover some interesting information about Price Manufacturing. Then, with Gene’s secretary firmly replaced by a Mrs. Montague clone, he’d find a slot for Ms. Wier in one of Ambercroft’s many departments, and his life would return to normal.

What more could he ask for?

A glance at the stockinged calf revealed beneath Ms. Wier’s proper navy skirt gave a hint at exactly what more he could ask for—in the privacy of his own mind, of course. He’d never fraternized with an employee in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. That was Gene’s department....

Yet, Philip doubted it would be a hardship to dictate to Ms. Wier’s delicate, oval face. Mrs. Montague was a handsome woman, no doubt, but she was almost as old as his mother and not exactly his type. He respected Mrs. Montague a great deal, and valued her as an employee, but the sight of her ankle had never even come close to making his pants seem tighter.

Reining in his wandering thoughts, Philip pulled out another smile. “Your résumé says you take shorthand.”

“Yes, I do,” she affirmed, straightening slightly in her chair.

“Good, good. It’s hard to find a secretary who knows shorthand these days. I confess I’m a holdout who hates those little tapes and prefers to dictate the old-fashioned way.”

Her answer was a polite smile.

He folded his hands on his desktop and put on his “Let’s get comfortable, shall we?” expression. “There seems to be a little misunderstanding here, but I think we can work this out. You see, my brother is in Europe right now and won’t be back to interview for his position for several weeks, I’m sure.”

He paused as a thought suddenly occurred to him. Why had the headhunters sent someone who looked like this to interview in the first place? He’d spoken personally with the head of the agency, making it clear exactly what he wanted in prospective candidates for the position. He’d offered a salary that was sure to bring in applicants with impeccable references and long years of experience. That usually meant someone older than thirty, and Philip had more like forty-five or fifty in mind.

So what was a woman like Ms. Wier doing here? The agency valued his business too much to ever make a mistake like that.

“Ms. Wier, how did you hear about our opening?”

Philip had watched too many people across a negotiating table to miss the tiny flicker in her eyes. Possible coup or not, if she lied to him—and he’d know—she was out on her cute little rear.

“To be honest, I heard through a friend-of-a-friend kind of thing. This is a job I’m highly qualified for, and I made the decision to take advantage of the valuable information.”

He liked a person with initiative—to a certain point. He admired gumption in a competitor and in an employee, as long as they didn’t push too far. He appreciated that she’d taken an opportunity, especially in this instance where it worked to his advantage, but he also made a note to watch her and make sure her proactive approach didn’t end up biting him on the behind.

Although she had an excellent poker face, he could feel her tension. He waited just long enough to make his unspoken point before nodding.

“As a businessman, I can respect that.” He reread her file and let his ambiguous response hang. “So tell me why you’re leaving Price Manufacturing.”

Before the words even came out of her mouth, he knew she was about to give him the prepared story. He hadn’t turned over his family’s measly ten million this many times without honing a certain amount of psychic skill.

“Mrs. Price wants to come back to work. She says she’s bored, and after all, she ran the company with Mr. Price for years. They’re a good team. Anyway, they told me to take as much time as I needed to find a good job, but once I was settled, Mrs. Price would take the office back over. They pride themselves on being a family-run operation, you know.”

Yes, he knew. He knew Eva and Martin Price socially, and he knew their excellent reputation.

“Then I’m sure they will give you a good reference.”

He let her sit a moment longer, waiting until she uncrossed her legs and recrossed them before continuing. “As I said, my brother won’t be back for quite some time, but as it happens, my own secretary is out, and I need a temporary to stand in for her. Could I interest you in working for me for a few weeks? We’ll call it a dry run, if you will. When Mrs. Montague returns, you may still wish to apply for the opening, but if that doesn’t work out, I feel sure we can find a place for someone of your talent at Ambercroft, Inc.”

Philip named a salary even higher than he’d offered the headhunters, making the money alone worth her while to take the temporary position. Sweetening the deal with a promise of permanent employment was mere icing. This way, everybody won. Even Gene, although Philip had no intention of his brother ever knowing about this little venture.

His watch gave a small beep and he glanced at his wrist. Only five o’clock? Good, he could still get some work done.

Ms. Wier shifted in her seat, recapturing his attention. He’d never hired an employee based on their physical appearance, but in her case, he just might be tempted to make an exception. He had always been fond of brunettes, and her green eyes were bright and inviting. She had the presence and grace that said she was completely unaware of the power of her classic features. She had a timeless beauty that reminded him of some of the stunning women who’d starred in the old movies he favored. Elizabeth Taylor in her prime, Katherine Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman.

To be practical, however, by hiring Madalyn he’d have much more than someone pleasing to look at. He’d have a qualified, motivated assistant.

“Well, Ms. Wier? What do you think?”

“I’m very interested, of course. I’d need to know if medical benefits are available during this... dry run...as you call it, and if vacation will begin to accrue.”

He hid a smile. No overeager cream puff here. He was beginning to like her more and more. He despised ingratiating fools and pushovers.

“Medical, yes, we’ll get you on the corporate policy right away. Vacation and sick time will begin once you’re a permanent employee.”

She nodded, as if expecting his response. “Then I’ll say yes, Mr. Ambercroft.”

Philip wasn’t smug, but Gene wasn’t the only Ambercroft who could be charming. “Please, if we’re going to work together you must call me Philip. If I can call you Madalyn...?”

“Of—of course.”

“Great.” He shifted the folders on his desk and tossed a notepad and pen across to her. “Let’s get started.”