HELEN BROOKS - The Billionaire Boss's Secretary Bride

In July, escape to a world of beautiful locations, glamorous parties and irresistible men—only with Harlequin Presents!

Lucy Monroe brings you a brilliant new story in her ROYAL BRIDES series, Forbidden: The Billionaire’s Virgin Princess, where Sebastian can’t ignore Lina’s provocative innocence! Be sure to look out next month for another royal bride! The Sicilian’s Ruthless Marriage Revenge is the start of Carole Mortimer’s sexy new trilogy, THE SICILIANS. Three Sicilians of aristocratic birth seek passion—at any price! And don’t miss The Greek Tycoon’s Convenient Wife by Sharon Kendrick—the fabulous conclusion to her GREEK BILLIONAIRES’ BRIDES duet.

Also this month, there are hot desert nights in Penny Jordan’s The Sheikh’s Blackmailed Mistress, a surprise pregnancy in The Italian’s Secret Baby by Kim Lawrence, a sexy boss in Helen Brooks’s The Billionaire Boss’s Secretary Bride and an incredible Italian in Under the Italian’s Command by Susan Stephens. Also be sure to read Robyn Grady’s fantastic new novel, The Australian Millionaire’s Love-Child!

We’d love to hear what you think about Presents. E-mail us at Presents@hmb.co.uk or join in the discussions at www.iheartpresents.com and www.sensationalromance.blogspot.com, where you’ll also find more information about books and authors!

Don’t be late!

He’s suave and sophisticated.

He’s undeniably charming.

And above all, he treats her like a lady….

Beneath the tux, there’s a primal, passionate lover who’s determined to make her his!

Wined, dined and swept away by a British billionaire!

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

HELEN BROOKS was born and educated in Northampton, England. She met her husband at the age of sixteeen, and thirty-five years later the magic is still there. They have three lovely children and a menagerie of animals in the house! The children, friends and pets all keep the house buzzing and the food cupboards empty, but Helen wouldn’t have it any other way.

Helen began writing in 1990 as she approached that milestone of a birthday—forty! She realized her two teenage ambitions (writing a novel and learning to drive) had been lost amid babies and family life, so she set about resurrecting them. Her first novel was accepted after one rewrite, and she passed her driving test (the former was a joy and the latter an unmitigated nightmare).

Helen is a committed Christian and fervent animal lover. Though she finds time is always at a premium, she somehow fits in walks in the countryside with her husband and dogs, meals out followed by the cinema or theater, reading, swimming and visiting with friends. She also enjoys sitting in her wonderfully therapeutic, rambling old garden in the sun with a glass of red wine (under the guise of resting while thinking, of course!).

Since becoming a full-time writer, Helen has found her occupation one of pure joy. She loves exploring what makes people tick and finds the old adage “truth is stranger than fiction” to be absolutely true. She would love to hear from any readers, care of Harlequin Presents.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘I STILL can’t believe you’re really going, that this is your last day. All along I thought you’d change your mind. I mean, you’ve been here for ever, Gina.’

Gina Leighton couldn’t help but smile at her office junior’s plaintive voice. ‘Perhaps that’s why I’m leaving, Natalie,’ she said quietly. ‘Because I’ve been here for ever, as you put it.’

OK, so ‘for ever’ was actually the last eleven years, since she had left university at the age of twenty-one, but clearly as far as Natalie was concerned Gina was as much a part of Breedon & Son as the bricks and mortar. As far as everyone was concerned, most likely. Especially him.

‘I know I shan’t be able to get on with Susan.’ Natalie stared at her mournfully. ‘She’s not like you.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Gina said bracingly. She didn’t mean it. In the last four weeks since she had been showing Susan Richards—her replacement—the ropes, she had come to realise Susan didn’t suffer fools gladly. Not that Natalie was a fool, not at all—but she was something of a feather-brain at times, who had to have everything explained at least twice for it to click. Susan had already expressed her impatience with the girl in no uncertain terms, ignoring the fact that Natalie was a hard worker and always willing to go the extra mile.

But this wasn’t her problem. In a few hours from now, she would walk out of Breedon & Son for the last time. Not only that but she was leaving the Yorkshire market-town where she had been born and raised along with all her friends and family and moving to London at the weekend. New job, new flat, new lifestyle—new everything.

Her stomach doing a fairly good imitation of a pancake on Shrove Tuesday, Gina waved her hand at the papers on her desk. ‘I need to finish some things, Natalie, before the drinks and nibbles.’ Her boss was putting on a little farewell party for her for the last couple of hours of the afternoon, and she wanted to tie up any loose ends before she left.

Once Natalie had returned to the outer office, however, Gina sat staring round the large and comfortable room that had been her working domain for the last four years, since she had worked her way up to personal secretary to the founder of the agricultural-machinery firm. She’d been thrilled at first, the prestige and extremely generous salary adding to her sense of self-worth. And Dave Breedon was a good boss, a nice family-man with a sense of humour which matched hers. But then Dave Breedon wasn’t the reason she was leaving…

‘No eleventh-hour change of heart?’

The deep male voice brought Gina’s gaze to the doorway. ‘Of course not,’ she said with a composure that belied her racing heartbeat. But then she had had plenty of practice in disguising how she felt about Harry Breedon, her boss’s only son and right-hand man. She stared into the tanned and ruggedly handsome face, her deep blue eyes revealing nothing beyond cool amusement. ‘You didn’t seriously think there was any chance of that, surely?’

He shrugged. ‘“Hoped” is perhaps a better word.’

Ridiculous, because she had long since accepted Harry’s flirting meant absolutely nothing, but her breathing quickened in spite of herself. ‘Sorry,’ she said evenly. ‘But my bags are already packed.’

‘Dad’s devastated, you know.’ Harry strolled into her office, perching on the edge of her desk and fixing her with smoky grey eyes. Gina tried very hard not to focus on the way his trousers had pulled tight over lean male thighs. And failed.

‘Devastated?’ she said briskly. ‘Hardly. It’s nice he’ll be sorry to see me go, but I think that’s about it, Harry. And Susan is proving to be very capable, as you know.’

Susan Richards. Blonde, attractive and possessed of the sort of figure any model would be grateful for. Just Harry’s type, in fact. Over the last twelve months—since Harry had returned to the United Kingdom following his father’s heart attack, and taken on more and more of Dave Breedon’s work load—Gina had heard the company gossip about his succession of girlfriends, all allegedly blonde and slender. Whereas she was a redhead—at school she’d been called ‘carrot top’, but she preferred to label her bright auburn locks Titian. And, although her generous hour-glass shape might have been in fashion in Marilyn Monroe’s day, it wasn’t now.

So why, knowing all that, had she fallen for him? Gina asked herself silently. Especially as he was the original ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ male. It was the same question she had mulled over umpteen times in the last year, but she was no nearer to a logical answer. But then love didn’t pretend to work on logic. All she knew was that this feeling—which had begun with an earthy lust that had knocked her sideways, and had rapidly grown into a love that was all consuming the more she’d got to know him—was here to stay. Whereas to Harry she was merely the secretary he shared with his father—admittedly someone he liked to chat and laugh and flirt with, but then he’d be the same with any female. End of story.

‘I didn’t think you liked London when you were at uni there. I remember you saying you couldn’t wait to get home.’

Gina frowned. ‘I said I was glad to come home.’ She corrected quietly. ‘That didn’t mean I didn’t like the city.’

He stared at her for a moment before hitching himself off her desk and standing to his feet. ‘Well, it’s your life,’ he said so reasonably Gina wanted to hit him. ‘I just hope you don’t regret it, that’s all. All big cities can be lonely places.’

‘The old thing about being surrounded by people but knowing no one?’ Gina nodded. ‘I’ve lots of old university friends living in London, so that’s not a problem. And I’m sharing a flat with another girl, anyway. I’m not living alone.’

She didn’t add she was feeling more than a little trepidation about that. For the last six years she’d had her own place, a small but beautifully positioned top-floor flat in a big house on the edge of town, with views of the river. After living with her parents, she had revelled in having a home of her own, where she was answerable to no one and could please herself at weekends, getting up when she wanted and eating when she felt like it. But renting in London was vastly different from renting in Yorkshire, and although her new job paid very well she couldn’t run to her own place.

‘Don’t forget to leave your new address.’ He was already walking to the door. ‘I might look you up next time I spend a few days in the capital. Doss down on your sofa for a night.’

Over her dead body. She took a deep breath and let it out evenly. ‘Fine,’ she said nonchalantly, wishing she could hate him. It would make everything so much easier—she wouldn’t be uprooting herself for one thing. Although, no, that wasn’t quite fair. Even before she’d fallen for Harry she’d acknowledged she was in a rut and needed to do something with her life. Both her sisters and most of her friends were married with children; going out with them wasn’t what it had once been. In the twelve months before Harry had come on the scene, she’d only had the odd date or two, as the only men around had either been boring or convinced they were God’s gift to women, or, worse, married and looking for a bit of fun on the side. She’d begun to see herself as a spinster: devoted to her job, her home, and godmother to other people’s children.

Her friends thought she was too choosy. She stared at the door Harry had just closed behind him. And maybe she was. Certainly she’d had offers, but she balked at the idea of trying to like someone. Either the spark was there or it wasn’t. Besides which, she wasn’t desperate to settle down. What she was desperate for was a life outside work that was interesting and exciting and carried a buzz—nightclubs, the theatre, good restaurants and good company. She was only thirty two, for goodness’ sake! So London had beckoned, and she’d embraced the notion.