Not Strictly
Business!
SUSAN MALLERY
WENDY WARREN
VICTORIA PADE
PRODIGAL SON
SUSAN MALLERY
About the Author
SUSAN MALLERY is the bestselling and award-winning author of over fifty books.
Chapter One
Samantha Edwards had never minded the interview process, even when she was the one looking for a job. But having seen her prospective boss naked made things just a little tricky.
The good news was Jack Hanson was unlikely to bring up that single night they’d shared. Not only wasn’t it relevant to her employment application, it had been nearly ten years ago. She doubted he remembered anything about the event.
Well, not just the one event. Her recollection was completely clear. There had been three “events” that night, each of them more spectacular than the one before.
“Ms. Edwards? Mr. Hanson will see you now.”
Samantha looked up at the sixty-something secretary behind the modern metal-and-glass desk in the foyer in front of Jack’s office.
“Thank you,” Samantha said as she rose and moved toward the closed door.
She paused to tug on her cropped jacket. Her clothing choices had been deliberately conservative—for her, at least. Flowing black slacks, a cream-and-black checked jacket over a cream silk shirt. It killed her to avoid color, but ten years ago Jack Hanson had been the poster boy for straitlaced conservative types. She was willing to guess that hadn’t changed.
Except he hadn’t been the least bit conservative in bed.
The wayward thought popped into her head just as she pushed open the door to his office. She did her best to ignore it as she drew in a deep breath, reminded herself how much she wanted this job and walked confidently toward the man standing behind his desk.
“Hello, Jack,” she said, shaking hands with him. “It’s been a long time.”
“Samantha. Good to see you.”
He studied her with a thoroughness that made her breath catch. How much of his steady perusal was about sizing up the candidate and how much was about their past?
She decided two could play at that game and did a little looking of her own.
He was taller than she’d remembered and he still seemed to exude power and confidence. She wanted to say that was a natural attribute for someone born to money, but she had a feeling Jack would have been a winner regardless of his upbringing. He was simply that kind of man.
Time had been kind, but then time had always preferred men to women, she thought humorously. Jack’s face showed character in addition to chiseled features. She wondered if life ever got boring for the physically perfect. While he had to deal with things like broad shoulders and a smile that would have most of the female population lining up to be seduced, she had unruly red hair that defied taming, a stick-straight body, small breasts and a butt that could only be described as bony. Was that fair?
“Please,” he said, motioning to one of the chairs. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.”
He did the same, claiming his side of the desk. He looked good there—in charge and powerful. But she happened to know he was new to the job.
“I read about your father’s death a couple of months ago,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He motioned to the office. “That’s why I’m working here. The board asked me to step in and take care of the company for a while.”
“I’d wondered,” she admitted. “Last I’d heard, you were practicing law.”
“It would be my preference,” he told her.
“But you did so well at business school.” She would know—they’d been competing for the top spot, often by working together. He’d been the detail-intensive, organized half and she’d been the creative member of the team.
“Hated every minute of it,” he said. “I realized I preferred the law.”
Jack thought about the day he’d told his father he wasn’t entering the family business. George Hanson hadn’t been able to comprehend that his oldest son wasn’t interested in learning how to run a multimillion-dollar company. The older man had been disappointed and furious. It had been the only time Jack hadn’t done what was expected of him.
Ironically, today he was exactly where his father had wanted him to be.
But not for long, he reminded himself.
“I guess your father’s death changed your plans,” Samantha said.
He nodded. “I’m on a three-month leave of absence from my law firm. Until then Hanson Media Group gets my full attention.”
“Are you sure you want the Donald Trump act to be temporary?”
“I’m not the tycoon type.”
She smiled. “I would say you have potential. Word on the street is you’re bringing in a lot of new people.”
“That’s true. My father hated to hand over control of anything. He was still the head of at least three departments. With a company this big, no one has the time or energy to run them and the rest of the business. I’m looking for the best people possible to join the team.”
“I’m flattered.”
“It’s the truth. You’re only here because you’re good. I need creative types. It’s not my strong suit.”
She smiled. “A man who can admit his weaknesses. How unusual.”
“Samantha, the only reason I passed marketing was because I was on your team. You carried me through the whole class.”
“You tutored me through cost accounting. We’re even.”
She shifted slightly as she spoke, causing her slacks to briefly hug her slender thighs. The other candidates had been highly skilled with incredible résumés, but unlike Samantha, they’d come in dressed in business suits, looking equally comfortable in a board room or law office.
Not Samantha. Despite the conservative colors, she was anything but ordinary. Maybe it was the bright green parrot pin on her lapel or the dangling earrings that hung nearly to her shoulders. Or maybe it was that her long, fiery red hair seemed to have a will and a life of its own.
She was not a conservative businessperson. She was avant-garde and wildly creative. There was an independence about her he admired.
“You left New York,” he said. “Why?”
“I wanted to make a change. I’d been working there since graduation.”
He studied her as she spoke, looking for nuances. There were plenty, but none of them worried him. Per his research, she was coming off a divorce. Her previous employer had done his best to keep her from leaving.
“You have to know this is a dream job,” she said. “You’re offering complete creative control of Internet development, with more than a million-dollar budget. How could anyone resist that? It’s my idea of heaven.”
“Good. It’s my idea of hell.”
She smiled. Her full mouth curved and he felt himself responding. Subtle tension filled his body.
“You