www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For my Mom,

      the best amateur caterer I know,

      who taught me how to cook.

      Thanks, Mom!

       1

      THE ELEVATOR DOORS opened like welcoming arms as David Wolfe crossed the marble floor of the office building in downtown Philadelphia. Not having to wait for an elevator during the Monday morning rush was always a good sign. It was going to be one of those great days when everything went his way.

      When the doors opened again to deposit him on the twenty-first floor and the offices of Keppler, Van Horne Insurance Co., he was already moving.

      Life had never been better. After six years of hard work in the prestigious family-owned-and-run firm, he’d had a few subtle hints dropped his way about a vice presidency coming vacant when Damien Macabee retired. David was so ready to be the youngest VP in the company’s history.

      As he strode to his office, he greeted his assistant, “Morning, Jane.”

      “Morning, David.” Jane was a middle-aged career secretary and probably the closest to a stroke of sheer luck he’d ever had in his career. They respected each other’s work ethics, operated as an efficient team and he knew that one day when he was president of Keppler, Van Horne she’d still be his right hand. A partnership like that didn’t come along very often.

      “I made a couple of changes to your schedule today. The Belvedere group asked if you can make it at four instead of three, so I shuffled some things around.”

      “Great, thanks.”

      He scratched his nose. It was itchy with sunburn after a weekend sailing where he’d played doctor with a nurse from Boston who’d kept him too busy to think about sunscreen.

      “Oh, and you had three calls from some woman named Gretchen.”

      “Gretchen leave a last name?”

      She smiled thinly. “I don’t think she’s interested in an insurance policy.”

      “Oh, that Gretchen.” She was a flight attendant he’d had some fun with, but who clearly wanted more from the relationship than he was willing to give. “I told her not to call me at the office.” He never gave out his office number to women he hooked up with, but it wasn’t hard to track him down. A simple Google search did the trick. “If she calls again, tell her—”

      “If she calls again I’ll put her through. Maybe you should tell her yourself.”

      “Right. You’re right.”

      “I take it you didn’t get sunburned with Gretchen.”

      “No. I sailed with a woman named Claire.” He chuckled in memory. “She’s a lot of fun, in fact—”

      Jane was looking over his shoulder, and suddenly interrupted, saying, “No wonder you’re going to marry her. You two are perfect for each other.”

      If Jane was talking about his fiancée, it could only mean one thing, which was confirmed when an older man’s voice hailed him. “Ah, David. Do you have a minute?”

      He turned to greet the president and CEO of the company, Piers Van Horne. “Sure, Piers. Come on in.”

      “You’re sunburned,” the older man remarked. “Where were you and your fiancée off to this weekend?”

      David felt Jane’s eyes burning into his back like twin laser beams of disapproval. Sure, it wasn’t a good idea to tell lies—even little white ones—to the boss, but David was confident his reasoning was sound.

      “A little sailing off Cape Cod. The weather was gorgeous.”

      He led his boss and the CEO of the company into his office, where they settled around the small conference table. David kept his space uncluttered. The only personal touches were his framed MBA degree, his current insurance industry designations and on his desk a photo of him hugging a dark-haired woman. You could only see the back of her head, but David was laughing into the camera and they were clearly having a good time.

      Piers gestured to the photograph. “How’s that lovely girl of yours?”

      David had been talking about his fiancée for months, ever since he’d heard rumors of Macabee’s imminent retirement. He knew that Keppler, Van Horne had an unwritten rule. No one got promoted to VP who wasn’t married. The VPs were expected to entertain clients both at home and abroad, and for that reason, Piers and his brother who ran the company preferred that the VPs, both male and female, be part of a couple. David figured he’d fudged the lines on a few rule books and he was determined to do the same with this. So, he’d started talking about his fiancée. Casually. He’d come to work on a Monday and talk about the weekend he and his fiancée had spent in New York. Or the quick trip they’d taken to the Caribbean.

      “She’s wonderful,” he answered. “Gives my life meaning. And Helen and the kids?”

      They chatted about college decisions and braces and then Piers said, “We’d like to celebrate your engagement. We’re a family business and, let’s face it, we’re all involved in each other’s lives, especially at the executive level.