A Bride For The Brooding Boss. Bella Bucannon

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      He was torn between the deep love of a son for his father and distaste for his casual attitude to being faithful. And behind him, hidden by the wall in Matt’s eye line, was the room where he brought the women. His coffee turned sour in his mouth.

      Marcus sipped his drink cautiously, savouring the taste.

      ‘Mmm...good, real coffee. I’ll take a pod home and ask Rosalind to buy some.’

      ‘Take a box.’ Matt cleared his throat, hesitant to ask the vital question. Please don’t let the answer be he drove. ‘How did you get here, Dad?’

      ‘Caught a cab at the shopping centre near home.’ He glared at the desk, set not too far away. ‘You’ve twisted my desk.’ It was an accusation.

      ‘Don’t worry, it suits me that way. We can always put it back.’ He’d never place it in the former position that had given the user a direct eye line to the person working at the desk next door.

      ‘Hmph. Now I need the bathroom.’

      Marcus put his cup on the table, and went to the ensuite. Matt let out a long huff of breath, and took another drink of the hot, stimulating liquid. A glance at his watch told him his cousin should be here in a few minutes.

      Swearing softly when his desk phone rang, he strode over to answer. He missed his father’s return as he searched his in-tray for the letter the caller had sent.

      Lauren stopped typing as Marcus came into her office. The eyes were a similar colour, the facial features bore a strong resemblance, but he lacked the firm line of his son’s jaw, his innate sense of character.

      ‘You’re new. What happened to Miss...?’ He tapped his palm on his forehead. ‘Um, long dark hair, big blue eyes.’

      ‘I believe she left. Can I help you?’

      His gaze intensified, then he came round to stand beside her, and stared at the screen.

      ‘She was a good typist. Fast and accurate.’

      ‘Dad.’

      Matt stood in the doorway, the same forbidding expression he’d worn at her interview directed at her. She lifted her chin, determined not to be part of whatever games this family was playing.

      The older man spoke first. ‘There’s too many changes, Matthew. My girl was good. She left. People kept leaving.’ Slow with pauses at inappropriate times. ‘Who hired this one?’

      He tapped her on the shoulder as he spoke, and she involuntarily flinched, knew from the frown on Matt’s face he’d seen. He came over, and wrapped his arm across his father’s shoulders.

      ‘Let’s leave Ms Taylor to her work, Dad. Come and finish your coffee?’

      Although Matt barely glanced at her screen, he gave her a reassuring nod as he led his father out. He’d seen the bogus letter she’d started typing up.

      ‘It’ll be cold.’

      She heard the outer door open, and saw Matt’s body sag in relief.

      ‘Here’s Alan, Dad. He and I will drive you home and Mum will brew you another when we arrive.’

      They moved out of her sight and she heard muffled exchanges then Matt’s clearer words.

      ‘Give me a minute. Grab that box of pods from the bench.’

      He came into her room, his grateful expression telling her she’d pleased him, creating fissions of pleasure skittling from cell to cell.

      ‘Quick thinking, Ms Taylor, thank you. I’ll be gone for an hour or so. Joanne has a key to lock my office if you go out.’

      He paused, swallowed as if there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words, then disappeared leaving her with a bundle of questions she’d never be game to ask.

      The man she’d just met hadn’t looked all that old but his behaviour and actions were certainly not those of a fast-thinking entrepreneur who’d built a thriving business.

      She deleted the text as soon as she heard the door close, and brought up the files she’d been scanning. The events replayed in her mind as she sat, hands lightly resting on the keyboard.

      Matt had been protective yet somehow detached from his father, desperate to get him out of here. He’d called this Alan to come and help, not wanting to escort him alone.

      From Marcus’ remark she deduced Matt had taken over his office. A woman had worked in here so he’d been elsewhere, probably the empty room by reception. Had Marcus kept such tight control Matt had no idea what was happening in the accounts and records?

      That would explain his underlying antipathy and hostile manner but why towards her? She was his solution, his last resort. She was used to being warmly welcomed and treated with respect.

      Matt was an enigma, his words and tone not always matching his body language and often conflicting with the message in those stunning blue eyes. He resented whatever it was that sparked between them, and must have a reason she couldn’t fathom.

      At all costs she had to find and fix his problems and get away without him finding out they had a past.

      * * *

      Matt quietly placed his keys into his desk drawer, wondering what he was going to say to Lauren.

      My father has Alzheimer’s. He’s losing his memory. He’s lost most of his good staff in the last year, and he’s possibly screwed up the company.

      His condition had escalated in the last month and Matt’s mother was finding it harder to cope. Some very tough decisions would have to be made in the near future.

      Matt would never blame Marcus for anything that could be attributed to that hellish affliction. But it was his father’s screwing around that had sent him to the other side of the world. If he’d been here, possibly working with him, he’d have noticed the deterioration in time to prevent this debacle.

      He would have. His fingers bunched. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He would have.

      Only the family, their doctor and a few select friends knew. Matt believed his chances of success hinged on keeping it a secret, and Lauren’s employer had emphasised her discretion and trustworthiness. He was about to test it to the max.

      She stopped working as he came to her doorway, her face inscrutable, her eyes wary. His stomach clenched.

      ‘We’d better talk. Please come in here.’

      Once they were seated by the window he paused to think, weighing up how much to tell her.

      ‘There aren’t the words to thank you enough for your understanding today. The man you saw isn’t the same person who started this company. He has Alzheimer’s.’

      She leant forward. ‘I suspected something like that. I’m sorry. It must be so hard on your family.’ Empathy rang true in her voice and showed in her expression.

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