The Boss Man's Fortune (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 5)

  * * *

  Savannah Spectator Blind Item

  Q: What does a runaway heiress from the Wild West do while she’s hiding from her powerful family?

  A: Assume the identity of a plain-Jane executive assistant to one of Savannah’s richest and sexiest bachelors!

  But rumor has it she’s doing more than typing memos for the boss, if you get our drift. One look at the much younger woman, and Mr. Boss was planning his Barry White play list and rewriting the company’s “no fraternizing” rule book. But if this is love, then what will our heiress do when her family comes to “rescue” her from the Big Bad Boss?

  The Savannah Spectator says this: two fortunes are better than one, so anticipate a society wedding the size of the entire state of Georgia!

  * * *

  DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS

  THE BOSS MAN’S FORTUNE

  KATHRYN JENSEN

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Kathryn Jensen for her contribution to the DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS series.

  Books by Kathryn Jensen

  Silhouette Desire

  I Married a Prince #1115

  The Earl Takes a Bride #1282

  Mail-Order Cinderella #1318

  The Earl’s Secret #1343

  The American Earl #1347

  The Secret Prince #1428

  The Royal & the Runaway Bride #1448

  Mail-Order Prince in Her Bed #1498

  The Boss Man’s Fortune #1579

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Time and Again #685

  Angel’s Child #758

  The Twelve-Month Marriage #797

  KATHRYN JENSEN

  has written over forty novels for adults and children, under various names, and lived in many interesting places, including Texas, Connecticut and Italy. She currently resides in Maryland with her husband and two feline writing companions, Miranda and Tempest, who behave precisely as their names indicate—the first, sweetly…the second, mischievously. Their thirty-two-foot sailboat, Purr, promises to carry all four on many new adventures. Aboard her is where Kathryn does much of her summer writing.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  One

  “I’ve found her, sir!” The cheerful voice coming from Ian Danforth’s cell phone delivered the first good news he’d heard in weeks.

  His early-morning workout interrupted, the young CEO of Danforth & Danforth Import Company reached for his towel on the exercise bench in the executive gym. He pressed it to his sweat-beaded forehead, then draped the plush white swath of Egyptian cotton around his damp shoulders.

  “Excellent,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “When can she start?”

  “She’s from the temp service, able to begin right away.” Holly Francis, his personnel manager, sounded relieved. “Her name is Katie O’Brien. I’ve spoken with her, and I think you’ll like her. She’s a very self-assured young woman, seems to have good people skills, although not a great deal of office—”

  “I don’t require a biography of the woman,” Ian interrupted impatiently.

  He rolled one shoulder then the other to ease muscles knotted by three sets of hundred-pound bench presses. Ease up, Danforth, he scolded himself. It wasn’t poor Holly’s fault that his executive assistant had left so suddenly. Neither was she to blame for the reason he was wound so tight. His family’s problems had become serious issues for the company.

  It had all started with his father, Abraham Danforth’s, bid for the U.S. Senate. Then one crisis after another had struck the distinguished Georgia family and their successful import company. The final straw had been recently losing his executive assistant. But none of that made snapping at poor Holly acceptable.

  He tried to mellow his tone. “She’s just a temp. As long as she can answer a phone and file, she’ll do until you find me a permanent replacement.”

  “Of course, sir.” There was only the slightest hesitation before Holly came back at him with exaggerated sweetness. “And shall I send this young woman directly into the lion’s den or—”

  “That will be enough, Miss Francis.” But Ian couldn’t help smiling. Thank God, someone around there was holding on to a sense of humor during all the recent turmoil.

  The body of a young woman had been found in his parents’ attic, and the discovery had shocked the entire family. The young woman had turned out to be the housekeeper’s disturbed daughter who had died of a longtime condition. Then, an unexplained explosion in this very building, and pressure coming from suspicious sources in Colombia to switch suppliers for D&D’s imported coffee beans had all but tapped his good humor.

  He thanked the powers-that-be the five-story, antebellum-style Savannah headquarters had been empty when the bomb went off. No one had been injured. Still, extensive damage had been done to one floor. Both the family and the police were taking the incident seriously.

  And, as CEO, Ian felt responsible for his employees’ safety. The police hadn’t yet been able to establish who had planted the explosives, but it was clearly a professional job, meant to intimidate—aimed at forcing Ian and his family to move in a direction he refused to take. He shook off the dark thoughts, telling himself to face the day one simple step at a time.

  “I’ll get changed and meet her on the fifth floor.”

  “She’s on her way over. I’ll escort her up to your office myself.”

  “Thanks, Holly. I do appreciate your efforts, really.” He clicked off the cell and headed for the shower.

  Losing his executive assistant without warning had made last week hell. He had depended on Gloria since his father had handed over the reins of the company to him, his eldest son. But not because he was too old to continue leading his family’s multimillion-dollar import business. Abraham, the tough-as-steel Vietnam veteran, thrived on challenges and was a natural leader. So it seemed inevitable he would seek public office at some point in his life. Having hit his fifties, the time seemed right.

  Honest Abe II—that’s what his campaign manager had dubbed him, making the most of his squeaky-clean image. Now it was critical to keep him above reproach by resolving possible sources of scandal, quickly and without exposure to the press.

  But in the meantime, Ian needed to keep the company moving forward. In addition to overseeing the import side of the corporation, Ian also directed a national chain of gourmet coffee shops, D&D’s, that he himself had established as an offshoot of his father’s and grandfather’s original company.

  Gloria had been a gem. She’d made sure he remembered critical meetings and ran interference by screening nuisance calls and fending off the press when things had started heating up for the family. But her mother had suddenly taken ill, and she’d understandably needed to go to her. Last he’d heard, she was moving back home to Ohio to care for her. He made a mental note to have Holly track down the address. He’d send flowers.

  Twenty minutes later, Ian had changed into a tropical-weight, taupe Armani suit and stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor. He grunted a good-morning to several employees bustling along the corridor and pushed through the heavy oak door to the CEO’s office suite.

  A young woman with a wealth of curly auburn hair looked up at him from the reception-area couch where she sat primly, an expectant gleam in her green eyes. She looked terribly young compa
red to Gloria. Shooting to her feet the moment she saw him, she stepped eagerly forward and stuck out her hand.

  “Mr. Danforth, I’m so very glad to be working for you,” she said breathlessly. “You can’t imagine how excited I am to be here, in a real office, doing…doing important things. If there’s anything at all you want me to do, just say so. Maybe the temp agency told you that I haven’t had a lot of experience…” The words tumbled out of her, one on top of another, so that he had trouble untangling them. “But I learn really fast, and I’ll work very, very hard. I swear you won’t be disappointed….”

  He winced as she pumped his hand. He felt exhausted just listening to her.

  “Stop!” he barked.

  She blinked up at him, and he caught his breath at the flash of those jade eyes. He felt as if they were pinning him to the carpet. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

  Releasing her fingers from around his, he backed away from her and turned to open the door to his inner office. “You talk too much.”

  “I beg your pardon?” She followed him into his office and across the dark blue Aubusson carpet toward his desk.

  He waved her to a chair. “Don’t get too comfortable here, Miss O’Brien. Danforth and Company promotes from within whenever possible. We feel a certain loyalty to our employees.”

  She smiled. “That’s commendable.”

  He smiled back. “Yes…well, Personnel has started interviewing candidates for this position. I doubt you’ll be needed for more than a week or two, so just relax, answer the phone when it rings, keep the files in order, and you’ll do just fine for your short visit with us.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, eyes downcast.

  He felt a little sorry for her. But it wouldn’t have been right to mislead her. “Nevertheless, your brief presence here is important. Think of yourself as holding down the fort until the cavalry arrives.”

  She immediately brightened. “I can do that.”

  He bet she could. With her youthful exuberance, she could probably stop a runaway train.

  So what, he thought with a mental shrug. He liked her energy, although she made him a little dizzy. Sort of the way he felt if he put too much weight on the bar. Challenges were sometimes a good thing.

  Walking around the back side of his desk, he mused over her accent. Definitely not native Georgian. Most likely not even Southern of any brand. Possibly Midwest?

  It didn’t really matter, he told himself. Temps came and went faster than a Savannah sunset.

  “Have a seat,” he said, halfway between an order and an invitation.

  She sat.

  “Do you type, Miss O’Brien?”

  She looked across the desk at him, hesitating for a heartbeat, as if she wasn’t sure he’d been speaking to her. “Oh, yes.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Of course I type.”

  “Word-processing skills?”

  “The usual.” She smiled, sitting very straight, knees tucked together, hands folded demurely over them. Her slim calves were pressed together, as if she’d been told all of her life to “sit like a lady.”

  Something about her, he thought, didn’t fit the picture. “What’s your educational background, Miss O’Brien?”

  “Katie,” she said. “I want to be called Katie.”

  He pressed his shoulders into the high leather back of his chair, hands laced behind his head, and observed the perky redhead over an expanse of cool, dark mahogany. “All right, Katie, where did you go to school?”

  The question seemed to require some thought before she could answer. “Belmont College.” She nodded, as if the words sounded right to her.

  “I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”

  “It’s a small college in Arizona. Sort of—” green eyes flickered, making his heart jump “—a community college.”

  “I see. Have you ever worked in an office?”

  She worried her bottom lip between small, very white, very straight teeth and observed him apprehensively. “No.” She rushed on, “But like I said, I’m sure I can catch on fast enough. I type pretty fast. I’m a very good speller, and I like filing and—”

  “You like filing?” He couldn’t help chuckling.

  Her eyes crackled, green fire. “Is there something amusing about honest hard work?”

  “Not at all.” He forced the curve out of his lips. Where, he wondered, was this sudden antagonism coming from?

  “I can work just as hard and just as long as anyone else. All I’m asking for is a chance. If you’re not going to give me that—” She shot to her feet, and he had a vision of her coming over the desk at him in a wave of female fury. Instead, she reached for her purse and spun toward the door. “I guess this interview was a waste of both your and my time.”

  “Wait!” he shouted.

  For a moment, the room reverberated with the commanding sound of his voice.

  Then, slowly, she turned to observe him with cool composure over one shoulder, a single eyebrow peaked, as if to say, You dare raise your voice to me? Just like that, the ingenue was gone. Like champagne bubbles evaporating into the air.

  This young woman, he could now see, had a mind of her own. And spirit. Good, he thought. All the more interesting to work with.

  He stood up behind his desk. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Miss O’Brien…Katie. Please stay.”

  Returning slowly to the center of the carpet, she watched him cautiously from beneath a thick fringe of lashes shades darker than her russet hair. “It’s not as if I don’t have other opportunities,” she said. “I can be anything I want.”

  He studied her, intrigued by her choice of words. Be anything she wanted? Not do. He decided it would be safer not to ask. Unleashing her conversational talents again would be unwise.

  “All I’m asking is that you help me keep my working days in order until we properly fill the position.” He gestured toward the chair she’d vacated, and she returned to it. “This includes answering the telephone, responding to my e-mail, keeping my calendar straight, and accompanying me to a few meetings for the purpose of taking notes. Do you think you can do that?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide, lips pressed in a solemn line, as if it took immense concentration for her to keep them from moving while he spoke. “Absolutely,” she murmured.

  “Good.” He let out a long breath of relief, feeling as if he’d fought a damn war. And here it wasn’t yet nine in the morning! “You may start tomorrow morning, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Not today?” She looked disappointed.

  “I have family business to take care of today. It wouldn’t be fair to leave you all day on your own. But, if you like, take a look in Gloria’s desk. She left detailed instructions and office procedures for her replacement. You might want to take those home to study. Tomorrow, at eight a.m. sharp, you can start filing while you cover the phone.”

  “Great!” Katie chirped. She flashed him a dazzling smile. For some reason, that worried more than reassured him.

  “Katie O’Brien,” she murmured to herself as she snuggled into the corner of the couch, with a cup of coffee and the folder she’d brought back to the apartment with her. Goodbye, Katherine Fortune…hello, Katie O’Brien, her new persona. “Just you remember who you are,” she warned herself, toasting this important day with the chipped coffee mug.

  It was a little after lunchtime, and she’d only just returned from doing errands before settling in with what she considered her homework. Paid homework, she reminded herself cheerfully. Danforth was paying her even for this day of preparation.

  Things were definitely looking up!

  Leaving home had been impulsive, she admitted to herself. And more than a little frightening. That first day, as she’d hitchhiked to Tucson, she hadn’t even considered a final destination. Then she realized she couldn’t remain in Arizona without her family tracking her down and forcing her to come back to them.

  Besides finding a safe place to start her new life as an independent w
oman, she had other worries. Not the least of which was supporting herself—something she’d never had to do before. She couldn’t use her dad’s credit cards or write checks off her bank account. Any purchases from family accounts could be traced. What she had to do was make a totally fresh start.

  She’d paid cash for her bus ticket.

  As the Greyhound had rolled east out of Arizona, she thought about one of her sorority sisters, Kate O’Brien. Just last month Kate had e-mailed her from Savannah, overjoyed with a new job that required her to live in Europe on an extended basis.

  Kate had a reputation on campus for her crazy pranks, but Katherine had always admired her individuality and daring. And some of her ideas were actually pretty good! Katherine called her in London.

  “If you really want to disappear,” Kate suggested excitedly, “why not become me?”

  “Become you?” Katherine had only hoped for a lead on a place to crash temporarily, until she could afford an apartment of her own, perhaps in Savannah.

  “Sure. Everyone always said we look enough alike to be sisters. Twins, if it weren’t for my red hair. I left my U.S. driver’s license and other ID I knew I wouldn’t need in my top bureau drawer at the condo. Since I just bought it a few months ago, I wasn’t about to sell it. I didn’t even get a chance to meet my neighbors before I got this offer. So no one in the neighborhood really knows me.”

  “I should pay you rent or something,” Katherine suggested, “once I get a job.”