Wedding Series Boxed Set (3 Books in 1) (The Wedding Series) by Patricia McLinn Read Free Book Online Page A

Bette, despite the suspicion she actually had one of those god-awful five-year plans the magazines always wrote about. Why? What was so great about Bette Wharton?
    She wasn't classically beautiful or a sex goddess knockout. And he found himself absurdly glad she wasn't. Anybody could spot a woman like that.
    He'd listened to the crisp coolness of her voice and heard that hint of spiciness beneath. He'd touched the no-nonsense wool of her suit and felt the softness of her skin. He'd acknowledged the common sense coming from her mouth and recognized the uncommon sensuality of that maddening upper lip. He'd looked into the forthright navy blue of her eyes and seen that she had secrets there.
    Secrets
. Maybe that was it. Maybe that defined the whole thing. This feeling that she'd hidden her teasing and laughter beneath a life ruled by an appointment calendar, and the challenge of luring that teasing and laughter out of hiding.
    So, maybe what he felt came more from the challenge of making her see that other side of herself, the free spirit. He could handle that.
    A challenge . . . Yeah, he could enjoy that.
    * * *
    "PAUL MONROE'S ON line two, Bette."
    Bette sidestepped Darla's curious look, just as she'd sidestepped earlier questions with a simple statement that she and the client had an enjoyable business dinner. "Thank you, Darla."
    She waited until her assistant closed the door behind her, took a deep breath and lifted the receiver.
    "Good morning, this is Bette Wharton. May I help you?" It was chicken to pretend she didn't know who was on the other end of the line, but she wanted an extra second to remind herself of how she'd decided to deal with him.
    "Hi, Bette. It's Paul."
    So much for formality, she thought with an unwilling and wry smile. "Good morning, Paul. I hope everything's going smoothly so far with Sally."
    "Sally? Oh, the temporary temporary assistant. Yeah, everything's fine. In fact, you know what she did?"
    "What?"
    "She made me fresh coffee." He sounded so impressed she couldn't help but chuckle.
    "No! Really?"
    "Go ahead and laugh, but Jan never does that for me. She says anybody who comes and goes as much as I do deserves to drink whatever's available."
    "She has a point."
    "Well, just don't go telling Sally, okay? I usually only get fresh coffee about twice a year, so this is a treat."
    "I promise not to tell Sally, but she won't be there much longer."
    "How'd you know?"
    "How'd I know what?"
    "That Sally won't be here much longer."
    "Because she'll be replaced by your permanent temporary as soon as you make a selection."
    "Oh. I thought maybe my reputation had already gotten to her. Isn't that an oxymoron?"
    "Isn't what an oxymoron, and what reputation?"
    " 'Permanent temporary.' That's an oxymoron - you know, a built-in contradiction."
    "I guess it is." She hated herself for it, but she couldn't resist repeating, "And what reputation?"
    "For going through a lot of assistants fast."
    She wondered if the reason was solely his business habits.
    She'd quickly learned that a certain breed of men viewed assistants, especially temps, as a two-birds-with-one-stone dating service. She'd have been surprised if Paul Monroe was one; she'd also have been too disappointed for her own comfort.
    In her coolest, most neutral tones, she said, "I understand that's the reason Jan Robson contacted us in the first place, isn't it?"
    "I guess it is." If she thought she caught sheepishness, she could also imagine a grin lurking.
    "And that, I'm sure, is why you're calling this morning." She thought he mumbled "not exactly," but ignored it. "I've emailed the files to you, since they somehow ended up back with my papers, uh, last night. You can look them over, then let my office know before the close of business today whom you have selected and we'll make every effort to have that person in place tomorrow morning."
    "I don't like the sound of that."
    What was there not to like? She was being more than reasonable; getting someone