Bachelor Boss. Pamela Ingrahm

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СКАЧАТЬ and knew exactly who served the best Chinese food this side of the Pacific.

      Philip pulled one of the guest chairs closer to the desk and settled back with a carton of beef and broccoli.

      “So tell me about yourself, your family.” He grimaced and waved his chopsticks in the air. “Wait! Forget I asked that. My attorney said he’d have my head if I asked any personal questions of my employees.”

      She had to smile at his obvious disgust. “I take it you’ve been thoroughly warned about avoiding discrimination lawsuits.”

      Stabbing a bright green broccoli flower, he chomped it with a satisfied sigh before nodding. “Sometimes I think we’ve just about gone over the edge with political correctness. I hate having to guard every word I say.”

      Madalyn tilted her head to the side. “I’m surprised With your business reputation, I’d think you’d be well-tuned to this stuff.”

      “This stuff, as you put it, is taking all the fun out of business.”

      “Well, don’t worry. You didn’t offend me, and I promise not to sue.”

      He returned her smile and leaned forward, reaching for a packet of soy sauce. “Good. So tell me about yourself, Madalyn Wier.”

      “What would you like to know?”

      “Everything. Start with the usual, like where you’re from, and we’ll go from there.”

      Other than perfunctory information, she hardly expected true interest from him. After a few unimportant details, undoubtedly he’d carry the conversation. Which was fine with her, since he’d been a source of fascination for her for a long time. She wanted to know everything about him, and to have the ball in her court was slightly disconcerting.

      “I was raised in a little town called Asulta, Louisiana.”

      “I’ve never heard of it.”

      She laughed. “Of course you haven’t! It’s a tiny little town, meriting a mere pinprick on a Rand-McNally map. We’re far off the beaten path and miles from the nearest highway, so the only industry in our town is a couple of garment factories. Everyone worked for one or the other, except for the few folks like my father who worked for the school system.”

      “What did he do?”

      “He was a janitor until he died when I was eight”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Sorry that he was a janitor or sorry he died?”

      His lips curved in an answer to her cheeky question. When he smiled, his face was transformed from godlike perfection to a boyish charm that captivated her. It took yet another stern mental warning to remind her that she didn’t need to be captivated by her new boss—even if he was just a temporary boss.

      “I’m sorry that you lost your father,” he clarified with definite sincerity in his voice, despite his teasing smile. “I lost my father when I was in college, and that was hard enough. I can’t imagine being as young as eight.”

      “It was rough,” she admitted without rancor. “I was a late-life surprise for my parents, so I have to confess I was fairly doted on.”

      His expression turned slightly ironic. “I can see we had vastly different childhoods.”

      “I’ll say,” she said with a laugh. “I’d never even seen a tennis court, except on television, until I was a teenager.”

      “That’s not what I meant,” he replied. “I’m just trying to picture my father as doting, and the image just won’t gel.”

      “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say,” she admitted hesitantly. He’d startled her as she never expected something so personal to enter the conversation. Weren’t negative family comments a no-no in the rich person’s rule book?

      Philip shook his head as if suddenly realazing what he’d said.

      “Sorry about that,” he said with a sheepishness that reached out and caught her imagination. “Didn’t mean to get maudlin on you.”

      Maudlin wasn’t the word she would have chosen. Introspective, maybe, but that’s what nabbed her attention so fully. The image she was getting of him conflicted with the picture she’d already drawn in her mind. She expected someone cold and calculating, someone who never looked at the past, yet she was facing someone quite charming with an undercurrent of power and magnetism that she would do well to not underestimate.

      He put his entrée on the desk before shifting to casually rest his arm on the back of his chair. The move stretched his dress shirt across his chest, his jacket now discarded, and her mouth went a little dry. Good heavens, the man was dreamy! Maybe it was her imagination, but he bore an uncanny resemblance to her favorite actor, although Mr. Brosnan might argue the presumption. Still, with the five-o’clock shadow shading his face and his dark hair just everso-slightly mussed, she’d have to say that yes, indeed, Philip Ambercroft looked rather Bond-ish at the moment

      “So tell me about your favorite birthday memory,” he said, startling her out of her wayward thoughts.

      Wrinkling her brow, Madalyn tried to think. Favorite birthday?

      “I guess it would be my eighth, just before my father died. A carnival was in a town close to ours and where my dad got the money, I have no idea, but we all went and rode every ride, ate every kind of junk food, and I got to ride the little Shetland ponies—you know, where they walk around slowly in a circle? Real excitement for a girl who’d never even seen a horse up close and personal. What about you?”

      “Easy. I was sixteen and at boarding school in Switzerland. My parents couldn’t make it over and I spent the entire weekend by myself on the slopes. No pressure, no one watching, no yardsticks.”

      “Your sixteenth birthday by yourself? That sounds sad.”

      “Not at all. It was the first time I felt like my birthday wasn’t some kind of litmus test about my reaching my manhood.”

      He said manhood with such derision, she couldn’t begin to imagine growing up under such pressure. The image was heart-wrenching, one he’d managed to convey in a sentence, and she was once again stunned by this very personal glimpse into a very private man’s life.

      “I’m sorry to hear that. Holidays are special to me. Especially Christmas and birthdays. Sounds like you could take ‘em or leave ’em.”

      “Oh, not so. And forgive me for being so talkative. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.”

      “Must be my talent at scintillating dialogue,” she said drolly.

      “Must be,” he agreed, his tongue in his cheek.

      “You’ll have to remember where to come when you’re depressed from now on. Just call me Dr. Madalyn.”

      “Well, Doctor, I think your dinner is getting cold so we’ll have to finish the session another day.”

      “Oh, dam,” she said with mock regret, digging in to her orange chicken again СКАЧАТЬ