Shattered by the CEO / The Boss's Demand

Shattered by the CEO by Emilie Rose

Rand stared into the eyes he once thought guileless.

“Tara, you won’t get anything more than sex from me. No gifts. No rings. No promises. And definitely no children.”

Her breath hitched and her eyes rounded when she realised he’d accepted her terms. She blinked and swallowed and then dampened her lips with the pink tip of her tongue.

Hunger for her taste instantly consumed him.

Damn the desire. Damn her for making him want her.

Five years ago she’d made him forget every hard lesson he’d learned. She’d tempted him to break his vow to remain single and unattached.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

The Boss’s Demand by Jennifer Lewis

“Will that be all?” she asked.

She stared at him for a moment, daring him to look back up at her. Did she imagine it, or did his fingers tighten around the pen? He paused in his reading, tugged at his collar, then glanced at her.

“Yes, Sara.” He said her name slowly, emphatically, his dark eyes unblinking. Her stomach flipped and she held herself steady.

His full lips straightened into a hard line.

Lips that had kissed her with force and tenderness she could never have imagined. Lips that had teased and tempted her into a frenzy of passion.

Lips that held the power to fire her, as she’d invited him to do on her first day.

Yes, she’d failed once.

She wanted him to know it would never happen again.

MILLS & BOON

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SHATTERED BY THE CEO

by

Emilie Rose

Dear Reader,

It’s not often a location won’t let me go. But that’s exactly what happened when my husband and I took a research trip to Miami and a cruise to the Bahamas for a book I wrote last year.

Miami is dynamic, exciting and diversified. I wish I’d had more time to explore the city and surrounding areas. I need at least a week just to sample the regional foods. And don’t get me started on the shopping… I’ll need to leave hubby at home when I go back for that.

I can see why Miami is the setting for so many movies and TV shows. On one hand you have the beaches, and on the other there’s the money and power of the big city. I can’t wait to return. In the meantime, I’ve indulged myself with setting some books in this great city. Hope you enjoy!

Happy reading,

Emilie Rose

EMILIE ROSE

lives in North Carolina with her college sweetheart husband and four sons. Writing is Emilie’s third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day-care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include quilting, gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). Her favourite TV shows include ER, CSI and Discovery Channel’s medical programmes. Emilie’s a country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song.

Letters can be mailed to:

Emilie Rose

PO Box 20145

Raleigh, NC 27619, USA

E-mail: EmilieRoseC@aol.com

To my parents, who have given so much love

and support even when it wasn’t easy.

Mom and Dad, thanks for all you do.

Prologue

“You will return to Kincaid Cruise Lines as acting CEO for one full year.” The lawyer paused dramatically, his eyes finding Rand Kincaid’s over the top of Everett Kincaid’s will. “And you will convince Tara Anthony to come back with you as your personal assistant.”

The words hit Rand like a bullet, knocking him back in his chair and punching the air from his lungs. “No. Hell no.”

The lawyer didn’t flinch. Years of dealing with Rand’s bastard of a father had probably left the man immune to profanity and raised voices.

“Should you refuse, not only will you forfeit your share of your father’s estate, but your brother and sister will lose theirs, as well. In fact, if any of you fail in your assigned tasks, then I’m instructed to sell all of Everett’s holdings to Mardi Gras Cruising for one dollar. The business, the estate, the investment portfolio.”

Son of a bitch. Rand slammed his palms on the table and shot out of his chair. He should have known the old man would find a way to pull his strings—even from the grave. “Mardi Gras is Kincaid’s biggest rival, and the CEO is my father’s sworn enemy.”

“I am aware of that.”

Clenching and releasing his fists by his sides, Rand paced the length of the Kincaid Manor dining room. He glanced at his younger brother and sister and saw more than grief and shock in their pale faces. He saw resignation, and in the case of his brother, frustration and suppressed anger.

They expected Rand to walk. The way he had five years ago. The fact that he’d failed to contact Mitch or Nadia or return their calls in the interim had no doubt contributed to their lack of faith in him, but he’d cut all ties because he hadn’t wanted to put them in the middle of his war with their father.

Rand struggled to shake off the invisible straight jacket cinching tighter around him. He owed Mitch and Nadia, and not just for abandoning the family business.

He pivoted and refocused on the attorney. “Anyone but her. Not Tara Anthony.”

Within three weeks of declaring she loved Rand and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, the woman had gone after deeper pockets when Rand refused to cough up a wedding ring.

“I’m sorry, Rand. Everett insisted on Ms. Anthony.”

His father would. The manipulative despot. He had always coveted whatever Rand had and then he’d taken it by fair means or foul and flaunted his successes like a cat leaves a carcass on the doormat.

“And if she refuses?” Rand would make sure Tara did.

“Then you’ll change her mind. Unless you choose to fail, there is no other option.”

Another dead end. Frustration burned like acid in his belly. “I’ll contest the will.”

The lawyer didn’t even blink. “Contesting by any of the three of you immediately results in forfeiture.”

Rand struggled with the urge to punch something. His tyrannical father had closed the obvious loopholes before unexpectedly dropping from a heart attack in his latest mistress’s bed three days ago. But there had to be a way out, and if there was, Rand would find it.

He planted his fists on the table and leaned toward the attorney. “Richards, you know my father must have been mentally incompetent to demand this.”

“He wasn’t crazy, Rand,” his brother said before Richards could reply. “I’d have known. I worked with him every day. You would have known, too, if you’d stuck around.” Mitch made no attempt to conceal his anger.

Nadia’s head bobbed in agreement. “Dad was impossible, insensitive and immoral. But he wasn’t insane.”

A volley of curses ricocheted around inside Rand’s skull. He straightened and nailed his brother with a hard stare. “Why aren’t you protesting? CEO should be your job.”

Mitch shrugged, but his jaw looked rapier-sharp. “Dad wanted you.”

Rand couldn’t contain his snort of disgust.

“That’s a first. You were always his favorite and his right-hand man. I was his sparring partner—the one he liked to beat.” Not physically, but in every other way. Sports. Business. Women. Until his father had taken their competition too far.

Rand looked from his brother to his sister. “This all-for-one garbage is absurd. He spent his life trying to drive us apart.”

“And it looks like in death he’s trying to bring us together,” Nadia replied.

Richards cleared his throat. “Over this past year Everett realized he’d made some mistakes. He wants the three of you to help him rectify them.”

“So he won’t eternally rot in hell,” Rand muttered. A sense of doom descended on his shoulders. He was trapped. Like a rat in a maze. Exactly how his father liked it.

Whatever game you’re playing, old man, I will win this time.

Even if it meant facing Tara again.

He squared his shoulders and looked his brother straight in the eye. “I’ll do it. I’ll come back to KCL, and I’ll make Tara Anthony an offer she can’t refuse.”

One

The doorbell echoed through the two-story foyer, stopping Tara Anthony in the process of kicking off her shoes. An ivory sandal dangled from her toe.

Tightening her grip on the newel post, she debated ignoring her visitor and then groaned, stabbed her foot back into her shoe and rolled her tense shoulders. Whoever was out there had very likely watched her walk inside thirty seconds ago and knew she was here. As if to prove her point, the bell chimed twice more in quick succession.

No doubt she’d find another developer on the other side of the door, one who wanted to buy her lot, demolish her old house and build a minimansion in its place as had happened with so many of the neighborhood properties. This section of Miami had become an increasingly desirable location lately. But she couldn’t sell. She’d promised her mother she’d hold on to the house. Just in case.

Tara pushed back her hair and sighed. She wanted this rotten day to end, and she wasn’t up for a pushy sales pitch tonight. But apparently, her hot bath and the pint of Ben & Jerry’s she’d planned to have for dinner would have to wait.

Not for long.

Tomorrow she’d buy a bigger No Soliciting sign.

Resolved to deal with her uninvited guest as quickly as possible, she crossed the foyer and yanked open the door. She reeled back in shock at the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered man filling the opening.

“Rand,” his name poured from her in a lung-deflating whisper.

An evening breeze ruffled short, straight hair the color of dark chocolate, and his narrowed hazel eyes raked her from head to toe and back.

Emotions tumbled over her like raging river rapids. Shame. Pain. Anger. But something warm and welcoming spurted through her, too. Love? Could there be a lingering trace of that misplaced sentiment in her veins?

Surely you aren’t still stuck on a man you haven’t seen or spoken to in five years?

“May I come in?”

So polite, that deep, rich, goose-bump-raising voice. He hadn’t been polite the last time she’d seen him. That day his tone had been cold, cutting and cruel.

You didn’t waste any time, did you? You couldn’t hook me so you went after deeper pockets. But the joke’s on dear ol’dad. He wants you because he thinks I do. But I’ve already had you, Tara. And finished with you. He’s welcome to my leftovers.

The chill that had seeped into her bones that night at Kincaid Manor returned. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she crammed the memories back into their dark closet and focused on the man in front of her.

“What do you want, Rand?”

He looked stiff and perturbed in his perfectly tailored dove-gray suit, white shirt and burgundy raw silk tie, as if he didn’t want to be here any more than she wanted him on her front porch. “To discuss my father’s final demands.”

Everett Kincaid. One of the low points in Tara’s life. “I heard he’d passed away. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Rand didn’t look mournful. “His will involves you.”

Everett always had been kind to her, but why would her former boss leave her a bequest? Especially after the way they’d parted. “He left me something?”

Rand’s lips flattened into a thin line and his square jaw shifted to an antagonistic angle. “No, but unless you agree to his terms we’ll lose everything.”

Talk about dramatic. She barely managed not to roll her eyes. And then, puzzled, she frowned. Rand had never been the over-the-top kind. He’d been very straightforward about what he wanted. And what he didn’t.

She tucked a curl behind her ear and wondered if he noticed she’d cut her hair or that she’d lost weight since they’d been an item. Or had he slept with so many women that the features blurred together into a homogeneous female form? Had she even left a mark in his memory?

His lousy relationship track record hadn’t kept her from falling in love with him five years ago, but back then she’d been young, shy and an impossibly naive twenty-four. She wasn’t any of those things anymore. Watching her mother die slowly and painfully had aged Tara what felt like decades.

She should boot Rand and the memories associated with their brief affair right off her property, but curiosity got the better of her. She opened the door farther. “Come in.”

His brisk stride carried him past her and straight into the den. The same cologne he used to wear encircled her like a long-lost friend. A friend who’d stabbed her in the back.

No, that wasn’t right. Rand had told her before their first date that he wasn’t interested in forever. She was the one who’d broken the rules by getting emotionally involved. But how could she help herself when he’d been everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man? Fun, sexy, intelligent, attentive, gentle, good in bed. Correction. Amazing in bed.

She couldn’t help wondering if she could have changed his mind about their future had she kept her mouth shut and let the love and trust sneak up on him. But she’d never know because three months into their affair she’d slipped up after making love and blathered out her feelings for him and her dreams for their future like the besotted twit she’d been.

Her ill-timed words had launched the next Ice Age and the fastest dumping in history. Rand had left her apartment so fast it’s a wonder he hadn’t burned tracks in her carpet. And then he’d left the country.

A frown line formed between his eyebrows as he examined the room’s furnishings. “This looks nothing like your old place.”

So he did remember. Her stupid heart skipped erratically. She scanned the room. The traditional furnishings were not the light-and-airy wicker and chintz she’d had in her apartment. “It’s my mother’s house and it was my grandparents’ before it became hers.”

His gaze sharpened and shot to the archway leading to the kitchen. “Is your mother at home?”

Tara’s heart squeezed with pain and guilt that seemed like they would never end. “She’s dead.”

“Recently?”

She gave him points for trying to be civil, but she didn’t want to discuss her mother with him. The wound was still too raw. “A year ago. But that’s not why you’re here. Could you get to the point, please? I have plans tonight.”

Sad, solo plans, but that was the story of her life these days. Other than a few regrettable exceptions in those lonely months immediately after her mother’s death when Tara had needed someone to hold her, someone to keep the loneliness at bay, men had been a nonissue for her since Rand had dumped her. She’d never found the passion or the connection she’d experienced with Rand with another man, nor had she found the solace she’d been seeking on those lonely, regrettable nights. The physical acts with near-strangers had left her feeling emptier and more alone than before, so she’d quit looking.

Tension crackled in the air between them. Rand didn’t sit. Neither did she. “Everett’s will requires me to return to KCL as CEO—”

“Return? You left Kincaid Cruise Lines? When? Why? The company is your life, your legacy.”

“Yes. I left.” His expression turned even more formidable. The lines bracketing his mouth carved paths through his five o’clock shadow. She used to love to feel that stubble beneath her fingertips and on her breasts. The memories made her pulse quicken and her skin flush.

“My father insists you come back as my PA for one year.”

Rand’s shocking revelation made her willing to overlook the fact that he hadn’t answered all of her questions. “Me? Why? And why would I want to?”

“If you don’t, then Mitch and Nadia will lose their home, their jobs and everything else.”

Regret settled heavily in Tara’s chest. For three years Nadia had been her friend, probably the closest one Tara had ever had. But a fissure had formed between them when Rand abruptly ended his and Tara’s affair, and then Everett’s proposition had finished what was left of the relationship. Tara had been so filled with shame and self-loathing she hadn’t been able to face Nadia—or any of the Kincaids for that matter—again.

“I don’t understand. Why would Everett insist on me returning to my old job? And why now?”

“Who knows what was going through his twisted mind? He has each of us jumping through hoops. He’s harassing us from the grave.” Bitterness and fury vibrated in Rand’s voice.

What had happened to drive the men apart? Rand and his father had always been competitive, but she didn’t remember Rand hating Everett. It sounded as if he did now.

“Can’t you do something about the will?”

He shook his head. “I had a team of top-notch lawyers go over every word. The will’s airtight. I’ll pay you ten thousand a month, plus benefits.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re joking.”

“No.”

That was double what she’d made when she last worked at KCL and more than three times her current salary.

It had taken Tara four months after she’d left Kincaid to find a job. It hadn’t been easy without a reference, but she hadn’t dared ask for one after the way she’d left without giving notice, without even returning to empty her desk. Her replacement had done that and shipped Tara’s belongings to her.

By the time Tara had finally found a position, she’d wiped out her savings, given up her apartment and moved in with her mother. The new job had paid less, but Tara had taken it because of the flexible hours and the opportunity for telecommuting gave her the time she’d needed to care for her mother during the grueling courses of chemotherapy.

Tara definitely planned to leave her current job. Her newly promoted boss was an arrogant, condescending jerk who had decided Tara’s “flexible hours” meant she was at his beck and call 24/7. She just hadn’t worked up the energy to start looking for a new position yet.

But working with Rand again… Too risky given that tiny flicker of joy she’d experienced earlier. The man had already broken her heart once. She’d have to be a fool to return for a second helping of that kind of agony. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not interested.”

“Fifteen grand a month,” he offered without hesitation.

Tara caught her breath at the obscene amount and her knees nearly buckled. Carol Anthony’s job as a hairstylist hadn’t provided health or life insurance, and Tara had inherited her mother’s debts along with her home and possessions. With that kind of money she could pay off the exorbitant medical bills her mother had left behind and stop the increasingly threatening collection notices.

She was more than a little tempted. But why, oh, why did it have to be Rand Kincaid making this offer? “It’s not about the money, Rand.”

He punched his fists to his hips, shoving his suit coat away from the flat plane of his stomach—a stomach she’d once been free to touch and taste. “Look, we both know you don’t give a damn about me. But do it for Nadia and Mitch. They don’t deserve to have the rug ripped out from under them. Name your price, Tara.”

Tara wavered. Common sense said refuse. But a minuscule, insistent part of her reminded her how good she and Rand had been together. When she’d been with him she’d felt special and important, as if happily-ever-after might actually be possible.

She’d never had time to come to terms with his abrupt ending of their relationship. Before she could sort out her chaotic emotions her mother’s persistent cough had been diagnosed as stage-three lung cancer. From that moment through the next few years Tara’s life had careened out of control on a roller coaster of hope and despair. Every waking thought had centered on her mother’s survival. There had been too many difficult decisions to make and so many fears to face. There hadn’t been time to think about her own wants and needs, her broken heart, disappointed dreams or the man who hadn’t wanted her.

And then after battling four long, torturous years, her mother had died. Grief and guilt had consumed Tara. Since the funeral she’d been too numb to do anything but go through the motions of daily living. Work. Home. Paying bills.

She’d clung to the status quo like a sailor hung on to a capsized boat, afraid to let go, afraid another crisis would drag her under. Inertia wasn’t something she enjoyed, but even one more change seemed like one more than she could handle. That was the only reason Tara could think of to explain why she’d stayed at a job she hated and why she couldn’t face boxing up and donating her mother’s things or even moving the bedroom furniture her mother had used out of the dining room. She couldn’t even open the dining room door.

She chewed the inside of her bottom lip and studied the man in front of her. Was Rand’s reappearance in her life a wake-up call? An opportunity to get her life back on track? Hugging herself she stared at the picture of her mother on the mantel.

Live your life without regrets, Tara. Promise me…. Her mother’s final words echoed in her head.

Tara had learned two very important lessons as she watched her mother bravely fight and eventually succumb to the disease that had ravaged her body. One was that life shouldn’t be filled with regrets for the things you hadn’t done. The second was that some things are worth fighting for.

Tara had failed on both accounts.

She hadn’t been courageous or unselfish enough to buy her mother more time and maybe even save her life—a fact that would haunt her for eternity.

Second, she’d let Rand walk away. She hadn’t fought for him—for them. She’d allowed his fear of commitment and his unwillingness to listen to her reasons for turning to his father destroy any chance they might have had for a future together.

Rand watched her silently now with no trace of emotion on his hard-set face, but she was absolutely certain he had felt something for her back then even though he’d denied any emotions deeper than lust. If he hadn’t cared, he wouldn’t have treated her so well, and she didn’t think she’d imagined the quickly masked flash of pain and shock in his eyes that last morning. If his feelings for her hadn’t gone deeper than lust, he wouldn’t have been hurt by what had appeared to be a betrayal on her part.

Unable to concentrate with his intense stare nailing her in place and compelling her to accept, she turned away. She’d never expected to see Rand Kincaid again, and she could have survived without him in her life. But here he stood in her home. It seemed as if fate were offering her a second chance to make this right—to make them right.