The Boss’s Little Miracle
Barbara McMahon
MILLS & BOON
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To Ruth Johnson,
May all your travels be happy events,
and may you have books galore to read.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
ANNA LARKIN came out of the underground station into the pouring rain. The gusting wind made using an umbrella impossible. She bent her head and began walking up Montgomery Street. Her cross trainers were getting wet, but better than soaking the high heels, which she carried in her tote bag. Her hair would be a mess, curls everywhere. But not to be helped, it was the least of her worries.
San Francisco was often rainy in late October and today was no exception.
She just wished it had been sunny—or at least dry. She was coming down with the flu. Walking in the rain would certainly do nothing to help. Bad things came in threes, she mused. First her sister’s call this weekend to jubilantly share the news she was expecting a new baby. Anna had tried to rejoice with her sister, but without the chance of having a baby herself, each time she had to pretend it didn’t matter it got harder.
Then—the flu. She was usually healthy rarely even getting a cold during the winter. She so did not need this.
Now hurrying through the rain to get to work in order to meet the new man who was taking charge of the company today was about the last straw. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep.
She reached the cavernous lobby of the high-rise building in short order. Entering, she shook as much of the water as she could from her raincoat and hair before getting on one of the express elevators. She hoped there was time to dry her hair before the meeting. The natural curls always dominated in damp weather.
She no sooner stepped off on her floor than her colleague, and friend, Teresa accosted her.
“You look terrible,” she said, grabbing Anna’s arm and hurrying her along to the ladies’ room. Once safely inside, Anna peered at her reflection in the mirror. She looked worse than she felt, if that was possible. Pale with wet hanks of hair framing her face, she looked like she had the flu.
“Today’s the day we finally meet the new boss, you’re certain to make an impression,” Teresa teased. “Hurry up. He’s called for a meeting of department heads at nine.”
“I feel sick as a dog,” Anna said, slipping off her cross trainers. “I think it’s the flu. I’ve been sick all weekend and wouldn’t have come in today if the new CEO wasn’t starting. Just when I need to make a good impression if I want that promotion.”
“I thought Mr. Taylor said it was in the bag,” said Teresa, holding the tote and reaching for Anna’s high heels.
The rain had left her stockings wet, but they would dry soon enough. She took the offered heels, tossing her wet raincoat over one of the stall doors, letting it drip onto the tile floor. Better here than in her office.
Once she was standing in the shoes, she took her comb from her bag and began to pull it through her hair confining the unruly curls as best she could, anchoring them at her nape. This was not the way she normally wore it but a riot of damp curls was not going to win her any points with the new boss. What else could go wrong today?
Teresa checked her watch. “We have five minutes to get into the conference room,” she said. “I’m not going to be late to the first meeting he’s called.”
Anna checked one more time in the mirror. She looked as professional as she could given the circumstances. She pinched her cheeks to get some color into her face, double-checked her lipstick and turned to her friend. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Walking down the long hall she felt the suppressed excitement. Everyone on the floor knew Mr. Taylor was retiring. The Board of Directors had selected a new chief executive officer—but kept all information quiet lest the competition heard about it before they were ready with their announcement. Even the top level of management of Drysdale Electronics didn’t know who would be the new CEO.
Rumors had abounded over the last few weeks that he would make a clean sweep of the current managers and directors and bring in his own people. Of course that kind of rumor went around every time a new man took charge. Sometimes it was even true.
In passing the employee’s lounge, Anna dashed in to get a cup of coffee. She had not felt up to eating anything for breakfast so needed a jolt of caffeine to keep going. If at all possible, once the initial meeting was finished, she would go home and crawl back into bed. She was rarely sick and couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so wonky.
Entering the conference room a couple of moments later she immediately looked at the head of the room. Allen Taylor was talking with a man who had his back toward the gathering. The new CEO obviously. She couldn’t tell much from that view—he was tall, had dark hair with no gray in it and a wide set of shoulders. For a moment she thought there was something familiar about him. But no one even knew the name of the new man, the secrecy surrounding his appointment has been tightly capped.
He obviously wasn’t as old as Mr. Taylor, not if that black hair was any indication.
Anna glanced around, recognizing all the senior management of the home office. Slipping into the seat next to Teresa, she sipped the warm coffee, wishing she was still in bed. How long was this going to take?
Glancing around at the others, she picked up on the tension in the room. She knew they all had questions and concerns.
After her conversation with Mr. Taylor last Friday, however, she wasn’t as nervous as she might have been. He had assured her that her promotion was in the bag. By January she would be in her new position as director of the European marketplace, headquartered in Brussels. She could hardly wait.
Mr. Taylor stepped to the head of the long table as the man beside him turned to face the group. Anna stared at him with stunned, sickening surprise. For a moment heat swept through her and she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
He did have broad shoulders; she remembered rubbing her hands over them, feeling the hot skin, the taut muscles. His lips appeared chiseled, but she remembered how they’d molded