Acquiring Mr. Right

by Laurie Paige

Overview

Brilliant and beautiful executive Krista Aquilon was shocked when the struggling appliance company she'd slaved over for years was sold in a surprise takeover bid. And even more surprising was her new billionaire boss, corporate raider Lance Carrington.

Decisive and dominant, ruthless businessman Lance always put his work first. But as impressed as Lance was with Krista's sharp financial mind and innovative ideas, there was another reason he couldn't get his newest employee out of his mind. What sizzled between him and Krista was more tantalizing—and complicated—than any white-knuckled negotiation. Now it was up to Lance to make sure things weren't strictly business….

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781552547076
Publisher:	Silhouette
Publication date:	11/01/2006
Series:	Silhouette Special Edition Series
Sold by:	HARLEQUIN
Format:	eBook
Pages:	256
File size:	156 KB

About the Author

Some people describe "conflict" as two dogs and one bone. For Laurie Paige, it was growing up with four older brothers and two older sisters. Everyone felt free to boss the youngest member of the family. She claims this abundance of advice on improving her behavior was directly responsible for developing her stubborn streak.

Fortunately the family lived on a farm in Kentucky, four miles from the Tennessee border, and there was lots of room to roam...and avoid her older siblings. As a four-year-old, her chores were to help churn butter and, in summer, to keep worms out of the vegetable garden. Where were those hungry robins when she needed them to pluck a fat caterpillar from a tomato leaf?

Laurie loved Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. Picturing herself as a cowgirl, she rode their two farm horses every chance she got, as well as the prize sow her dad was fattening up for market. Laurie reports the sow bucked like a horse while she held on to its ears for dear life. If you try this, be sure and tuck your toes under its front legs to stay on. And yes, pigs have teeth...a lot of them!

Shortly before she started first grade, her family moved to town. Heartbroken at leaving her four-legged friends, she recovered upon discovering the library. It was the most wonderful place--thousands of books. She read The Little Engine That Could at least once a week. In the museum upstairs, she played chopsticks on the harpsichord. That started a lifetime love of museums.

She met her future husband in the Sweet Shop. (That really was the name of the place). She was 16; Bob was 20, home on leave from the Navy. After Laurie finished high school, they married and headed off to Florida and the U.S. Space program. There, they worked, attended college, learned to surf in the warm waters off Cocoa Beach, met the Original Seven astronauts, had a daughter, and adopted a dog and two cats.

After getting a degree in math (daughter was in sixth grade by then), Laurie worked as a reliability and computer engineer, receiving an Outstanding Achievement Award from NASA for work on the Apollo-Soyez mission and for developing an Automated Problem Reporting System for the Space Shuttle.

Working in the missiles and space business was like being in the military. The family was transferred from Florida to California, back to Florida, then Texas and finally California again, where they still live.

Laurie admits she has loved every place she has lived and made lasting friendships in each community. She just returned from Florida, visiting friends in Orlando and Fernandino Beach and stops in between. She and Bob also met other families on vacations to Montana (hiking, backpacking, and fishing), Lake Tahoe (skiing), and Hawaii (windsurfing) and have recently discovered cruise ships (Alaska and icebergs; Caribbean and snorkeling).

She recently made many new friends when she and eight other women went to Belfast, Ireland, for two weeks, building houses for Habitat for Humanity. She found it a wonderful endeavor--hard work but very fulfilling, a bonding experience for all, both American and Irish, who participated.

Traveling and studying maps is one way she gets ideas for romance stories. She loves villages and ghost towns, hidden valleys tucked between imposing mountains and funny names like Dead Horse Creek and, nearby, Dead Man’s Bluff. Mmm, sounds like a story there.

She haunts cemeteries and studies family names, guessing at connections between them. Or making up her own. That’s how the opening scene in Only One Groom Allowed came into being; she was hiking in the mountains and came across an old graveyard...and got drenched by a sudden shower while engrossed in reading the tombstones.

Her second book, South of the Sun, came about when she watched a report on TV concerning a scientific expedition to the South Pole. Then someone told her of an article in a magazine about how to identify a true lover from a rake. Thus the idea of a romance during a trip to Antarctica with the hero being the leader and the heroine being a psychologist testing her white lab rats in the harsh environment sprang into being. Her family warns friends that anything they say may, and probably will, appear in one of her books!

For those whose life and marriage may seem impossible at the moment, she reminds them, "All the reasons you fell in love are still there, but perhaps buried under worries and responsibility. Find them again, then hang in there. Truly, the best is yet to come."

Laurie’s email address is: [e-mail]. She loves to hear from readers and share thoughts, recipes, and ideas.

Read an Excerpt

Krista Aquilon parked close to the entrance of the Heymyer Home Appliances Company. The shiny red compact sedan was the first new auto she'd ever owned, and she was rather proud of the birthday present she'd bought for herself.

That thought usually cheered her, but not today. She unlocked the door and went into the silent building.

It was Sunday, the second day of April. The day after her birthday. Sometimes she wondered if the Fates had been laughing when they planned her birth date. She'd been an April Fool's baby, a fact that had gotten her a lot of teasing while growing up.

At any rate, she tried to keep Sundays free of work in order to maintain the illusion of a personal life, but today was an exception. The health of the company rather than her own well-being was foremost in her mind. As chief financial officer, she had a lot to worry about.

The place wasn't doing well. And all her suggestions for reviving it had been ignored, for the most part.

Pausing in the act of locking the entrance door behind her, she realized there was a red sports car under the portico at the side of the building, a space strictly reserved for James M. Heymyer, her eighty-year-old boss and a stickler for protocol.

His concept of protocol, she thought. She was more egalitarian in her views.

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips as she pictured the stunned outrage on his face at the audacity of anyone parking in his place. Not even Mason, Heymyer's son and heir, would be that bold. However, since it was Sunday, the boss wouldn't be in, so it probably didn't matter.

Returning to the original concerns that had brought her into the office, she sighed as she crossed the atrium-type lobby and went up the steps to the second floor.

All the executive offices were located on this level. "VIP Row," the other employees called it, as if the initials were a word. She'd gone from the plant production lines as a student on a work/study program during her college years to a "VIP" three years ago. After getting a business degree, she'd been promoted to accounts supervisor, then manager of the accounting department. She'd landed the head financial position last fall after earning her MBA.

At twenty-five, that could be considered quite a feat, but she was pretty sure the old man hadn't been able to get anyone else to fill the slot, which had been empty since the former CFO retired eighteen months ago.

One look at the books and anyone with a grain of sense would have run the other way, she grimly reminded her conscience, or whatever it was that wouldn't let her give the place up as a lost cause.

However, unless someone came up with a solution—and fast—Heymyer Home Appliances was gasping its last.

While the company marketed products under its own name, it also manufactured appliances for other brands. In fact, that was the bulk of their income. They had lost a major contract last week. Without it, they wouldn't have the cash flow to meet the payroll by the end of July.

In a town the size of Grand Junction, Colorado, population fifty thousand, a business failure leaving a thousand employees out of work would have a serious impact on the community. The city would lose one of its important revenue sources. The many mom-and-pop stores in town would struggle. Some might have to close. Even professionals—doctors, lawyers, bankers—would be affected.

Worst of all, families would suffer. Fear and tension caused quarrels and broken marriages. Children would be hurt. And that bothered Krista most of all. She knew how it felt to be frightened and helpless in a world that didn't seem to care.

She stopped at the top of the stairs. A light was on in the end office, the one belonging to the president and CEO. Some instinct warned her this wasn't good.

Or perhaps the boss was taking her warnings about bankruptcy seriously and had come in to study her idea to take a bold new tack.

But James Heymyer driving a red roadster? No way. So who was in his office?

As she walked down the carpeted hallway, she heard voices. Male voices. One she recognized as belonging to the boss. The low, rich timbre of the other wasn't familiar to her.

She paused at her door, listening to the tone. The depth and resonance of the voice were almost like a caress.

Krista had barely sat down and pulled up the latest balance sheet on her computer when Heymyer appeared at the door. "James, good morning," she said warmly.

As soon as she was made a department head, she'd started calling the owner by his given name. A mental image of his eyebrows nearly flying off his forehead the first time she'd done so came to her.

But he hadn't said anything.

Too bad. She'd had her points lined up about being on equal footing with the other managers—all men, who called the big boss "James"—and being taken seriously by them.

And the owner. "What the hell are you doing here? I didn't know you planned to come in today," he now said in accusatory tones.

"The place is usually empty on Sundays," she said, her tone level. "It's quiet, and I wanted to go over the financials before the staff meeting tomorrow."

She kept her expression pleasant and her mouth closed. He'd long since made it clear he didn't want any further ideas from her on saving the company. However, when she reported the cash flow problems tomorrow, he was going to have to face the fact that bankruptcy was looming.

A helpless anger ran through her, making it harder to hold back the recitation of all they could have done to save the business. If he had listened.

"I guess you may as well meet Lance today," James told her in a resigned tone.

Lance?

The guy with the sleek red car, she decided. The one who'd brought the old man to the office, an act so unusual she couldn't figure out what it might mean.

That instinctual alarm rolled through her again. She reluctantly shut down the computer and headed for the end office with James. Annoyance filled her now. She'd expected to be alone and so was dressed in faded jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with sneakers. No makeup.

Oh, well. It didn't make a bit of difference. In a small, home-grown company like this, everyone dressed pretty casual, even James...unless he was meeting with the bankers. Then the executives were alerted to dress the part of successful businesspeople.

They crossed the secretary's office and went into the inner sanctum, where heads sometimes rolled and shattered egos splattered the walls. She'd seen grown men nearly cry as Heymyer picked their reports apart. She'd also been on the receiving end of his sharp tongue.

She stopped in the middle of the huge office when a man, standing at one of the many windows, turned to them.

"Lance, this is the financial officer I was telling you about," James began the introduction. "Krista, this is Lance Carrington."

"How do you do?" Krista smiled politely and tried to keep the anxiety out of her expression. She had an eerie feeling about all this. Just what had James told this man about her? And why?

"Fine, thanks," the man replied. "Krista...Aquilon, isn't it?"

She nodded and, without thinking, spelled her last name as she'd had to do all her life with teachers and other officials. Most people didn't know how to translate the pronunciation—Ah-KEE-lon—into the correct spelling.

The smile widened on the handsome face. His gaze seemed warm and...and intimate, as if he knew her well.

Her insides gave a startled lurch, which interrupted her mental processes.

She stared wordlessly at the newcomer. He was dressed casually in navy slacks and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up on his forearms. His nearly black hair had a healthy sheen, highlighted by the sunlight streaming through the window behind him, and an attractive wave in front. His eyes were gray, like winter rain, and his gaze was direct. She looked away.

"Have a seat," James told them, taking his place behind the antique desk. An odd expression flicked across his face. "Well, I guess you should be sitting here now," he said to his guest.

Puzzled, Krista glanced from James to the stranger and back.

"Tomorrow, at the staff meeting," James continued, meeting her eyes with a harsh scowl on his face, "I'll be announcing the sale of the company to Lance."

The news hit her like a sneaky punch to the head, leaving her reeling with a thousand questions. Like times in the past when her future had been rearranged without her consent, she felt the old familiar uncertainty caused by life's nasty little tricks.

But she wasn't a child any longer. Instead of fear, anger bubbled beneath her self-control at this announcement.

"To CCS, actually," the visitor explained, his gaze piercing, as if he could see right into her brain and knew all the confused, conflicting emotions whirling there.

The man's name rang a bell. Lance Carrington. Corporate raider. Facts unfurled in her mind with the speed of light.

There had been an interview with him in a financial magazine last year. His company, CCS—which stood for Computer Control Systems—was actually a holding pen for all the shares of other companies he'd raided over the years.

Under the CCS banner, he bought ailing businesses, took them apart, remade them, then sold or merged the remains into his other operations.

She didn't need a magnifying glass to read the writing on the wall: it was the end of Heymyer Home Appliances.