Read an Excerpt
The Billionaire's Runaway Fiancée
Invested in Love Series
By Jenna Bayley-Burke, Heidi Shoham Entangled Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2017 Jenna Bayley-Burke
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63375-880-3
CHAPTER 1
"You're late."
Robyn Tindall stared at the back of the tremendous leather office chair. Since it just barked at her, she assumed someone sat there, but it was too big to be sure.
Wiping her damp palms against her black skirt, she took a deep breath. The temporary employment agency had warned her Golden City's CEO burned through executive assistants daily. She got a full day's pay no matter how long he kept her. So far, no one had made it to their coffee break. Robyn had no intention of kowtowing to someone who would fire her within the hour.
"Your clock's off. My agency was told eight, and according to my watch I'm thirty-two seconds early."
The black chair turned slowly, revealing the most gorgeous man she'd seen off a movie screen. Deep brown hair, a strong uncompromising jaw, and black-fringed eyes that sparkled a surprising aquamarine. She'd expected a crotchety old man. Her pulse jackhammered as a smile played on her lips. Too bad he didn't have the same response.
"You think that's funny?"
Oh damn. She'd make the record for being fired the fastest. She cleared her throat. "Where would you like me to start?"
"I don't know. It's your job, not mine." He spoke with a mocking slowness that made her wonder if he was teasing or truly an ass.
"There's a desk in front of your office door. I'm guessing that would belong to your assistant."
"It did until two months ago when she retired."
"She didn't train someone before she left?" He must have run her off, too.
"There was no time. Her daughter adopted triplets, and if anyone can schedule three babies, it's Carla."
"She's not coming back?"
He raised a straight eyebrow. "I've seen them. They're cuter than me."
Robyn smiled, doubting looks had anything to do with it. He wasn't cute by any means. Handsome, jaw dropping, mouthwatering. Robyn sucked in a cooling breath and dragged her mind out of the gutter.
"And you have no idea what it was she did for you." Fan-freaking-tastic. No wonder he'd been so short with the parade of assistants who'd been through the revolving door. Carla had made it seem effortless, so he didn't consider it a demanding job.
"Not the first clue." The sensual promise of his smile surprised her.
She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses tighter against her face, reminding herself men like him did not look at girls like her that way. He probably dated models and debutantes. Her last boyfriend had been a house painter.
"I'll check out the desk and see what I can decipher."
"Don't bother. You're not what I need."
He turned to his computer and began to work. Robyn blinked and checked her watch. She'd been fired after one minute on the job. That had to be a record, and not one she had any intention of making. She'd never been fired before, and this clown wouldn't break her streak, no matter how handsome or dynamic he seemed.
With a shake of her head, she turned on her heel, making sure to close the door behind her. She had half a mind to finish the day to teach Mr. Boss Man to give people a chance before dismissing them on sight. She didn't even want this job. The temp agency hoped she could mollify him until they found the ideal candidate and found her the event-planning position they'd promised in July, when she'd given up on finding a job on her own. Three months and still nothing.
She had a marketing degree for goodness' sake. Not that she'd used it yet, but she had ideas brewing for corporate events that would wow someone, anyone, if they cared to give someone without job experience an interview.
With a huff of breath, Robyn plopped down into the adjustable desk chair and surveyed the mess that lay in stark contrast to the pristine office. Curtis Frye's inner sanctum was decorated in the same style as the other two floors of Golden City Property Development offices she had been led through like Charlie through the Chocolate Factory. Everything echoed money and success, from sleek computer systems and black leather armchairs to the giant windows and Ansel Adams prints in heavy black frames. With as many walls as were in this company, she guessed they'd bought every photograph the man had ever taken.
They shouldn't have bothered with the art — the breathtaking view impressed and inspired. From this high up in San Francisco's financial district, you could see all the buildings in town. Working late would become a treat. The skyline lit up would make it worth the extra time.
Just like the other desks she'd seen, chrome and glass stretched before her now. Terribly ineffective. No one could hide chocolate in this place. Pushing her feet against the thick charcoal carpet, she propelled herself toward the bank of black filing cabinets, staying seated as she tugged on the drawers. The bottom one opened, empty save for a black binder labeled Duties.
With a sigh of relief, Robyn dropped her purse inside the cabinet and lifted the binder. Either Frye's assistant didn't do much, or she'd been so busy she'd never had time to type up more than the single-spaced page outlining everything required before Mr. Frye's eight a.m. conference call. She'd been getting up mighty early if she'd had to do all that.
Still, it was better than being unemployed. With no other way to make rent in too-expensive San Francisco than to accept the temp jobs, Robyn had learned a thing or three about adapting quickly.
The desk was piled high with memos and files, random faxes and reports. Thanks to her parents' real estate company back home, she knew the basics of the business. By the time her stomach growled, she'd sorted everything and round-filed most of it. She procured the key to the filing cabinets from the metallic cup holding pens atop the desk and took care of everything but the few items she wasn't sure if Mr. Frye had cared enough to cast his eyes on.
"What have you done?" His tone was as harsh as a whip, stinging her pride. He loomed over the desk, his face tight with irritation.
"You're welcome." Robyn smiled brightly.
His dark brows shot up, and her smile widened. This man needed to be taken down a few pegs.
"I'm going to head out for my lunch hour. I'll tackle the computer when I get back." She grabbed her handbag, but Curtis stood between her desk and the door to the outer office. For an instant, she thought about trying to run around the other side of the desk to get past him.
"Why are you still here?" he said in spite of his clenched jaw.
"You called the agency and said you needed help. Voila." Robyn lifted her arm like a spokesmodel selling a sedan.
"I told you to go. You'll be paid for your time."
"About that," she started brightly. "You can't fire me, since you never actually hired me. If the agency is going to pay me for a day's work, I'll do the work."
He glanced over her shoulder at the clean desk. "What did you do with everything?" "Filed it, except for these." She handed him the papers. "I noticed you usually initial memos before they are filed, so I held these back."
He leafed through them, his eyes widening as he read one. "This is a month old."
Robyn bit back the smart reply she itched to give him. She'd made her point.
With a huff, he leaned across the desk and plucked a pen from the cup to initial the pages. Robyn's mouth went dry at the sheer proximity of him. She gave herself a mental shake. This would not do. She'd never been attracted to someone she worked with before. Taking him up on his offer to fire her would save her from any awkwardness that might come from fantasizing about her boss. She opened her mouth to tell him she wouldn't be coming back, but before she could utter a sound, he straightened up and spoke.
"You really want to be my secretary?"
Jolly holly sticks, did people really use that term anymore? "Executive assistant."
He had the nerve to roll his eyes. "You really want to be my executive assistant?"
"No. I want to be an event planner, but nothing like that has come up." She'd spent the whole summer jumping from job to job every week, covering vacations for a multitude of people in different careers while she sent out résumés.
His lips tilted in a grin. "Are you always this honest?"
"Of course. If you play games, someone has to be the loser. Better to say what you mean."
"Honesty is very important to me. But I don't think you are right for this job."
Robyn nodded, glad she'd set a record by making it to lunch. And the next person who came in would have a better shot since the desk had been cleared.
He stared out the window like he'd never seen the view before, the silence growing awkward before he spoke. "You'll stay on until I find someone with experience, or until you find your event-planning job. Agreed?" He held out his hand to her.
Her palm slid against his, tingling as his hand closed over hers in a squeeze of affirmation. Sensations whirled through her like a hurricane, her insides quaking so hard she could barely manage to shake his hand. He relaxed his grip, slipping from her grasp.
"It's settled then. I'll see you after lunch." He turned, marched back to his office, and closed his door.
Robyn wilted, grabbing the chair for support. If she reacted this way to a simple touch, she really should refuse the offer — walk away before someone got hurt. Like her.
* * *
Curtis stared at the résumé the agency had faxed over, trying to do the math to figure out whether his new assistant was even legal to drink. He needed someone with enough life experience not to be rattled by the unexpected, and they sent him an adolescent.
Maybe. She could be as much as twenty-two. Discrimination laws obliged him not to ask. Little Miss Sunshine certainly took to the paperwork quickly, and she had tenacity. He needed someone dedicated, hardworking, and above all, trustworthy. Young people had a tendency to say more than they needed to, and that could blow a deal. He winced — he was thinking like one of the seventy-year-old board members, and he was half that old.
Curtis heaved a heavy sigh, tossing the fax into the trash. She'd bail soon enough. Most of his assistant's workload had been parceled out to the rest of the support staff. Once Robyn had the full picture of the duties required, she wouldn't be so eager. But in the meantime, she'd earned her chance. Anyone that determined deserved a fair shake.
Curtis lifted the phone from its cradle and punched in the numbers for the staffing agency, telling them Robyn would stay on until they found him someone with actual experience. If Robyn did well, he'd recommend her for a job here at Golden in whatever department handled event planning.
Whether she opted out or he moved her to another department, she wouldn't work for him long. Couldn't. She set him off-kilter, looked at him in a way that wasn't entirely appropriate and yet was completely innocent. He had a knack for knowing how people would react before they did, but she'd completely surprised him today. He did not like surprises.
* * *
Once Robyn got things sorted, she found the systems were well organized, and it took her only a few weeks to get Mr. Frye's life back to normal. The rest of the administrative team eased her into her position, handing tasks back one at a time. As she went, she finished writing the manual his last assistant had started. Hopefully, it would keep him from having to go through a blip like this again.
By November she'd learned everything he needed. Which newspapers he took — she separated out the front page and business section for him to read on the treadmill, how he liked his coffee — Americano every hour from eight until noon. Lunch was delivered then — soup in paper cups so he could drink without having to stop working.
The job of his executive assistant was to do everything to make sure he could work as much as possible. She paid his bills, so she knew his social security number, bank accounts, and birthday. Learning he was a Gemini cleared up so many things.
Curtis was actually his middle name, but she never asked him why he'd ditched a strong name like Jason. His clothes were ordered every season, but Robyn did have to trek down to Needless Markup with his credit card to pick up his wardrobe. The lot of it barely fit in her compact sedan.
A hairstylist came every three weeks and did something to his hair during a conference call with his partners in New York, but she never knew what. His hair always looked exactly the same. The day-to-day matters of his life took a back seat to his business.
He didn't take a moment for himself, but he did make time for others. Every month, his mother phoned in charity events he needed to attend and to schedule the family dinner. He'd rearranged a meeting in Prague just so he could have dinner with his parents.
Her parents had been so impressed she was working for Golden City and Curtis Frye. He's brilliant, they'd told her. Shrewd, aggressive, insightful, sure to be one of the biggest real estate moguls the country had ever known by the end of the decade. But at what cost?
By the time the employment agency came through with the event-planning job she'd waited for, she'd already appointed herself in charge of making sure Curtis Frye was taken care of. Not just his coffee, suits, and travel arrangements. She tried to get him to play more golf, telling him it was a great way to network when she really wanted him to experience the stress relief of the exercise. She arranged for him to have no meetings on his birthday. Granted, he used the day to catch up on paperwork, but he went home in the daylight with a smile on his face. She couldn't leave him now. He needed her.
It had taken the better part of a year to get him to soften his tone, first with her and then with others. The man who'd hired her eight months ago didn't use please and thank you, had never praised her for catching mistakes or coming in on a Saturday. Every day he became more pleasant than the last until they worked in harmony and had actual conversations when he came in to work. Wonderful and wretched at the same time because, as he grew more open, her attraction had bloomed into a full-on crush. And there wasn't a thing she could do about it. He'd never given her even a glimmer of hope. Which was how it should be, but a silly part of her wanted ... things she could never have.
"Robyn, when you have a minute, I need to ask you something." Curtis hadn't bothered with the squawky intercom like he used to.
She saved the spreadsheet her mind had wandered away from and headed toward his office, straightening her pantsuit as she went. Dressing for work made her uncomfortable, always aware that by buying secondhand she might be wearing a co-worker's castoffs. The complete opposite of Curtis, who replaced his entire wardrobe every season. She clasped her hands behind her back, awaiting his latest errand. Would it be dry cleaning or trading his cell phone for the latest model again?
He'd looked up when she entered but finished his call. She didn't mind waiting at all. It allowed her to drink in the sight of him, all put together and perfect in his ice-blue shirt and silver tie. He'd rolled up the sleeves like he always did this time in the afternoon, his cufflinks beside him on his desk along with his watch. He didn't usually take it off, which meant she'd be headed to the jeweler for repair. Hopefully, he didn't want her to stay until it was fixed. She'd hate to miss Chinese takeout night with her roommates and the only man in her life, General Tso.
She stepped to his desk and reached for his watch, but he slid his hand over hers to stop her. Only the heat of his touch spun her mind through fairy-tale fantasies of being swept off her feet, right into her own personal happily ever after. A very satisfying, adult version of happily ever after. She pressed her thighs together as he ended his phone call, and her fantasy.
"Sorry about that. I didn't think you'd come so quickly." He gifted her with an irresistible smile that brightened his ever-changing blue eyes. Some days dark, some light, and when he wore gray she'd swear they were green. "I'm not sending you on an errand. I have a proposition for you."
Did he have to say proposition like he was about to ask her for the real thing? Gadzooks, her hormones were out of control today.
"I overheard you inquiring about an event-planning job, and I know you intended to go into that field. But you are very good at what you do." His disarming grin softened his features, making him even more handsome than before. "I'd like for you to stay here at Golden and work for me, not the agency. We'll compensate you for giving up the opportunity, and you'll be eligible for profit sharing at the end of the year."
"That would be nice." Being hired on by the company meant security, benefits, and not having to worry about making rent. She drew a circle in the lush carpet with the toe of her boot. She considered telling him she'd already extended her assignment with the agency, but she liked being appreciated, noticed by him at all.
"We'll double your salary and lease you a car for errands."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Billionaire's Runaway Fiancée by Jenna Bayley-Burke, Heidi Shoham. Copyright © 2017 Jenna Bayley-Burke. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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