Boss Man Read online

  No one can resist a book by

  DIANA PALMER

  “Diana Palmer is a mesmerizing storyteller who captures the essence of what a romance should be.”

  —Affaire de Coeur

  “A compelling tale…[that packs] an emotional wallop.”

  —Booklist on Renegade

  “Sensual and suspenseful…”

  —Booklist on Lawless

  “A love story that is pure and enjoyable.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Lord of the Desert

  “A clever plot, plenty of action and memorable characters.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Renegade

  DIANA PALMER

  BOSS MAN

  DIANA PALMER

  has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. With over 40 million copies of her books in print, Diana Palmer is one of North America’s most beloved authors and is considered one of the top ten romance authors in America.

  Diana’s hobbies include gardening, archaeology, anthropology, iguanas, astronomy and music. She has been married to James Kyle for more than twenty-five years, and they have one son. Readers can find out more about her at her Web site, www.dianapalmer.com.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  One

  Violet Hardy sat at her desk and wondered why she’d ever taken this secretarial job in the first place. Her boss, Jacobsville, Texas, attorney Blake Kemp, didn’t appreciate her at all. She’d only been trying to keep him from dying of a premature heart attack by changing his regular coffee to decaf. For her pains, she’d been on the receiving end of the worst insult she could ever imagine, and from the one man in the world that she loved above all others. She knew her co-workers were as upset as she was. They’d been kindness itself. But nothing made up for the fact that Blake Kemp thought Violet was fat.

  She looked down at her voluptuous body in a purple dress with a high neckline, frilly bodice and straight skirt, vaguely aware that the style did nothing for her. She would be wearing it today, of all days, when Kemp gave her that disapproving scrutiny. Her mother had tried to tell her, gently, that frills and big bosoms didn’t match. Worse, a tight-fitting skirt only emphasized those wide hips.

  She’d been trying so hard to lose weight. She’d given up sweets, joined a gym, and worked hard at cooking regular and weight-conscious meals for herself and her elderly mother, who had a heart condition. Her father had died the year before of an apparent heart attack. But just lately there were rumors that her co-worker Libby Collins’s stepmother might be responsible for Mr. Hardy’s sudden death. Janet Collins had been suspected of poisoning an elderly man in a nursing home, and she’d taken Mr. Hardy for quite a sum of money before he died unexpectedly, just after being seen with her in a motel room. It had been too late for Mrs. Hardy to stop payment on the check, because she didn’t realize the money was missing until well after the funeral.

  Violet and her mother had been devastated, not only by his loss, but by the disastrous financial condition he’d left behind. They’d lost their nest egg, their home, their car, everything. The woman who’d convinced Mr. Hardy to give her a quarter of a million dollars couldn’t be positively identified. And she’d run up accounts in department stores and even jewelry stores for which Mr. Hardy’s estate was suddenly responsible. Her mother had had the first stroke just after the funeral. Violet’s small, separate inheritance had been just enough to support them for a few months. But after it ran out, Violet had been forced to support them both. There had been a vacancy at Kemp’s office, working with Libby Collins and Mabel Henry. Fortunately, Violet had taken a business course in spite of her father’s disapproval. She’d never have to get a job, he’d said confidently.

  It was nice working in Kemp’s office and she was a good secretary. But her boss didn’t appreciate her. Less today than ever before. She raged for five minutes, while her helpless co-workers listened and sympathized. She poured out her heart, including her feelings for her taciturn boss.

  “Don’t take it so much to heart, dear,” Mabel said finally, sympathizing with her despair. “We all have bad days.”

  “He thinks I’m fat,” Violet said miserably.

  “He didn’t say anything.”

  “Well, you know how he looked at me and what he insinuated,” Violet muttered, glaring down the hall.

  Mabel grimaced. “He’s had a bad day.”

  “So have I,” Violet said flatly.

  Libby Collins patted her on the shoulder. “Buck up, Violet,” she said gently. “Just give it a couple of days and he’ll apologize. I’m sure he will.”

  Violet wasn’t sure. In fact, she’d have bet money that an apology was the last thing on her boss’s mind.

  “We’ll see,” she replied as she went back to her desk. But she didn’t believe it.

  She pushed back her long dark hair and her blue eyes were tearful, although she was careful to conceal her hurt feelings. It was far worse than just his insinuation that she was overweight. She’d overheard Mabel and Libby whispering that the intercom had been on when Violet had poured out her heart to her co-workers after Kemp’s blistering attack over the decaffeinated coffee he’d been given. She was crazy about him. He’d heard that. How was she ever going to be able to face him again?

  It was as bad as she feared. All day, he walked out to the front to meet clients, talk about appointments and get coffee. Every single time he walked in, he glared at Violet as if she were responsible for the seven deadly sins. She began to cringe when she heard his footsteps coming down the hall.

  By the end of the day, Tuesday, she knew she couldn’t stay with him anymore. It was too humiliating all the way around. She was going to have to leave.

  Libby and Mabel noticed her unusual solemnity. It got worse when she pulled a typed sheet from her printer, got up, took a deep breath, and walked down the hall to Kemp’s office.

  Seconds later, they heard him. “What the hell…?”

  Violet came stalking back down the hall, red-faced and unnerved, with an enraged Kemp, minus his glasses, two steps behind, waving the sheet of paper at her back.

  “You can’t give me one day’s notice!” he raged. “I have cases pending. You’re responsible for sorting them out and notifying the petitioners…!”

  She whirled, eyes flashing. “All that information is in the computer, along with the phone numbers! Libby knows what to do, she’s had to help me keep track of your cases when I had to be home with Mother during her last stroke! Please don’t pretend it matters who’s doing the typing or making the phone calls, because I know it doesn’t matter to you! I’m going to work for Duke Wright!”

  He was seething, but he went suddenly quiet. “Going over to the enemy, then, Miss Hardy?”

  “Mr. Wright is less excitable than you are, sir, and he won’t rage about coffee. In fact,” she said audaciously, “he makes his own!”

  He looked for a retort, couldn’t think up one, mashed his sensuous lips together, let out a word under his breath that could have had him up for charges of harassment, and stomped back down the hall still clutching the single sheet of paper. As an afterthought, he slammed his door.

  Libby and Mabel tried not to laugh. Mr. Kemp had thrown two people out of the office onto the sidewalk in less than a month. His temper had gone from bad to worse, and poor Violet had caught the worst of it. Now she was leaving and it would be lonely without her. Sadly, Libby thought, her own workl
oad had just doubled.

  Violet apologized to her co-workers, but insisted that she couldn’t take the working situation anymore. At the end of the day, she closed down her computer, noting that Mabel and Libby were both out the door before she could get her things together. Libby had already agreed to come back as soon as she had a bite to eat and finish up two cases that Kemp was presenting the next day. Violet would have offered to do it; poor Libby had problems of her own with her horrible stepmother trying to sell the Collins house out from under Libby and her brother, Curt. But Libby insisted she didn’t mind.

  Violet shouldered into her long sweater-jacket just as Kemp came stalking down the hall, still in a temper, his pale blue eyes flashing behind his glasses, his lean face taut with anger, his dark wavy hair slightly mussed in back from his restless fingers.

  He stopped and glared at her. “I hope I’ve made my point about the coffee,” he said bluntly. “Have you reconsidered your impulsive resignation, by the way?”

  She swallowed. He’d made his point about a lot of things. She drew herself up to her full height and faced him bravely. “I have not. I’ll be leaving as soon as you can get a replacement, Mr. Kemp.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Running away, Miss Hardy?” he asked sarcastically.

  “You can call it that if you like,” she replied.

  His eyes glittered, angered all out of proportion by the reply. “In that case, you can consider this your last day and forget the measly notice. I’ll get Libby to finish your work and I’ll mail your two weeks’ pay to you. If that’s satisfactory.”

  Her face felt tight and uncomfortable at the taunting question, but she stood her ground. “That will be fine, Mr. Kemp. Thank you.”

  He glared at her. He was furious that he couldn’t get a rise out of her. “Very well. Your office key, please.”

  She fumbled it off her key chain and handed it to him, careful not to let her fingers touch his. Her heart was going to break in two when the shock wore off. But she was too proud to let him see how devastated she was.

  He stared down at her dark head of hair as she placed the key in his fingers. He felt an unfamiliar, uncomfortable surge of loss. He couldn’t understand why. He had little to do with women these days, although he was only thirty-six. He’d lost the woman he loved years ago and had never had any inclination to risk his heart again.

  Violet, however, threatened his freedom. She had a sort of empathy with people that was disturbing. She was easily hurt. He could see that this was killing her, being tipped out of his office, out of his life. But he had to let her go. She’d already gotten too close. He never wanted to feel again the pain of having his heart ripped out with the loss of a woman. His fiancée had died. He was through with love. So Violet had to go.

  It was for the best, he told himself firmly. She was only infatuated with him. She’d get over it. He thought of how much she’d lost in the past year: her father, her home, her whole way of life. Now she had her invalid mother to care for, a burden she shouldered without a word of complaint. Now she had no job. He winced as he sensed the pain she must be feeling.

  “It’s for the best,” he muttered uncomfortably.

  She looked up at him, her blue eyes tragic in her rounded face. “It is?”

  His jaw tautened. “You’re confused about your feelings. You’re only infatuated, Violet,” he said as kindly as he could, watching her face flush violently. “It isn’t love eternal, and there are eligible men elsewhere. You’ll get over it.”

  Her lips actually trembled as she tried to find a comeback to that devastating revelation. She’d been afraid he’d overheard her confession of love, now she knew he had. His words made her feel like sinking into the floor. It was the worst humiliation she could ever remember feeling in her life. He couldn’t possibly have made his own feelings any clearer.

  “Yes, sir,” she bit off, turning away. “I’ll get over it.”

  She picked up her bits and pieces and moved toward the door. Predictably, he went to open it for her, a gentleman to the bitter end.

  “Thank you,” she choked, her eyes averted.

  “Are you certain that Duke Wright will hire you?” he asked abruptly.

  She didn’t even look at him. “What do you care, Mr. Kemp?” she asked in a dull, miserable tone. “I’m out of your hair.”

  She walked toward her car with her heart around her ankles. Behind her, a tall man stood watching, brooding, as she walked out of his life.

  She’d forgotten the cake. She’d promised to drop it by the Hart ranch for Tess, but it was still sitting in Kemp’s office. She no longer had a key, and she’d rather have died than phoned him to let her in to get the cake. He’d think it was a ruse, so that she could see him again.

  She stopped by the bakery instead and got another cake. Luckily for her, Tess didn’t want a message on it, just the cake. She stopped by the Hart ranch property at Tess and Cag’s enormous house and handed it off to their housekeeper, with a beaming smile that never reached her eyes. Then she went home.

  Her mother was lying on the sofa, watching the last of her soap operas. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said, smiling. “Did you have a nice day?”

  “Very nice,” Violet lied, smiling back. “How about you?”

  “I’ve done very well. I made supper!”

  “Mama, you aren’t supposed to exert yourself,” Violet protested, gritting her teeth.

  “Cooking isn’t exertion. I do love it so,” the older woman replied, her blue eyes that were so like Violet’s sparkling with pleasure. Her hair was silver now, short and wavy. She lay on the sofa in an old gown and housecoat, her feet in socks. Nights were still chilly, even though it was April.

  “Want to eat in here on trays?” Violet offered.

  “That would be lovely. We can watch the news.”

  Violet grimaced. “Not the news,” she groaned. “Something pleasant!”

  “Then what would you like to watch? We’ve got lots of DVDs,” her mother added.

  Violet named a comedy about a crocodile who ate people living around a lake.

  Her mother gave her an odd look. “My, my. Usually when you want to watch that one, you’ve had an argument with Mr. Kemp.” She was fishing.

  Violet cleared her throat. “We did have a little tiff,” she confessed, not daring to tell her mother that the family breadwinner was temporarily out of work.

  “It will all blow over,” Mrs. Hardy promised. “He’s a difficult man, I imagine, but he’s been very kind to us. Why, when I had to go to the hospital last time, he drove you there and even sat with you until they got me over the crisis.”

  “Yes, I know,” Violet replied, without adding that Mr. Kemp would do that for anybody. It didn’t mean anything, except that he had a kind heart.

  “And then there was that huge basket of fruit he sent us at Christmas.” The older woman was still talking.

  Violet was on her way to her bedroom to change into jeans and a sweatshirt. She wondered how she was going to get another job without naming Mr. Kemp as a reference. He might give her one. She just hated having to ask him to. She’d told her co-workers, and Kemp, that she was going to work for Duke Wright, but it had been a lie to save face.

  “Going to the gym tonight?” her mother asked when she reappeared and rifled through the DVD stack for the movie she wanted.

  “Not tonight,” Violet replied with a smile. Maybe never again, she was thinking. What use was it to revamp herself when she’d never see Mr. Kemp again, anyway?

  Later, she cried herself to sleep, hating her own show of weakness. Fortunately, nobody else would see it. By dawn, she was up and dressed, her makeup on, her resolve firm. She was going to get a new job. She had skills. She was a hard worker. She would be an asset to any prospective employer. She told herself these things firmly, because her ego was badly hurt. She’d show Mr. Kemp. She could get a job anywhere!

  Actually, that wasn’t quite the case. Jacobsville was a small town. There weren�
��t that many office jobs available, because most people lucky enough to get them worked in the same place until they retired.

  There was one hope. Duke Wright, a local rancher who had a real verbal war going with Mr. Kemp, couldn’t keep a secretary. He was hard, cold, and demanding. At least one secretary had left his employment in tears. His wife had left him, along with their young son, and filed for divorce. He consistently refused to sign the final papers, which had led to a furious confrontation between himself and Blake Kemp. The fistfight escalated until Chief of Police Cash Grier had to step in and break it up. Duke threw a punch at Cash, missed the chief and landed in jail. There was certainly no love lost between Duke Wright and Blake Kemp.

  With that idea in mind, and gathering up her courage, she phoned him from home the next morning while her mother was still asleep.

  His deep voice was easily recognizable the instant he spoke.

  “Mr…. Mr. Wright? It’s Violet Hardy,” she stammered.

  There was a surprised pause. “Yes, Miss Hardy?” he replied.

  “I was wondering if you needed any secretarial help right now,” she blurted out, embarrassed almost to tears just to ask the question.

  There was another pause and then a chuckle. “Have you and Kemp parted ways?” he asked at once.

  She felt her cheeks redden. “In fact, yes, we have,” she said flatly. “I quit.”

  “Great!”

  “Ex-excuse me?” she stammered, surprised.

  “I can’t get a secretary who doesn’t see me as a matrimonial prospect,” he told her.

  “I certainly won’t,” she replied without thinking. “Uh, sorry!”

  “Don’t apologize. How soon can you get out here?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” she said brightly.

  “You’re hired. Come in right away. Be sure and tell Kemp who you’re working for, will you?” he added. “It would make my day!”