Crazy for the Boss (Crazy in Love Book 1)

C
RAZY
FOR THE BOSS is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Ashlee Mallory

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN: 978-0-9970035-1-2

Cover design: Letitia at RBA Designs

Content Editor: Bev Rosenbaum

Copy/Line Editor: Amy Knupp at Blue Otter Editing

S
crew-up
. Black sheep. Aimless playboy.

For most of his life, James Thornhill accepted that his family would never see him as anything but a failure. But as the new CEO of Thornhill Management, he’s been given another chance to set things right. First order of business? Settling a nuisance lawsuit and bringing the pesky but dedicated employment attorney on board as part of his team. Second order of business? Resisting the prim but fiery new employee who has somehow become utterly indispensable in his life.

I
ce Queen
. Good girl. Uptight do-gooder.

Quinn Taylor has grown up always doing what was right and, since graduating from law school, likens herself to a modern-day David taking on the Goliaths of the world. Goliaths such as the CEO of Thornhill Management. Playing babysitter and muse to the overindulged CEO was not what she had in mind, but with mounting debt making even a cup of coffee a luxury, Quinn’s ready to swallow her pride and get in bed with the devil. Something that, the more time she spends with the man, becomes increasingly enticing.

B
ut the stakes
are too high for either of them to risk an interoffice fling…until an unexpected trip to Quinn’s hometown brings a long-denied simmering attraction to a boil. They’ll have to decide what they’re willing to risk and how far they’re willing to fall if love doesn’t conquer all.

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Crazy in Love Series:

Crazy for the Boss

S
orensen Family Series
:

Her Backup Boyfriend

Her Accidental Husband

The Playboy’s Proposal

You Again

Love You Madly

Deceived

C
rap
. Was that really the time?

Quinn Taylor chewed on her fingernail as she took a step forward in the line, trying to decide what to do.

Seven minutes. She had seven minutes until the meeting started, and there was still one person ahead of her in line. Did she dare risk it?

At that opportune time, the overpowering aroma of freshly ground coffee beans wafted in the cool November air, tangling with the salty sea breeze from the San Francisco Bay.

No contest.

Besides, if she wanted to form coherent sentences, she would need a massive dose of caffeine.

Ordinarily, she’d be sipping said dose and reviewing her emails back at the office—and she used the term loosely considering her digs were temporarily located in the back corner of the law firm’s tiny conference room. Only this morning, Rooney, the lead attorney on the case, had texted her to say the opposing side had invited them to their office to discuss a potential settlement. Something that had sent a surge of adrenaline through her as she headed out the door, excited at the prospect of actually putting this lawsuit to rest.

It wasn’t until she’d reached the bus stop and climbed aboard that the adrenaline began to wear off, and she cursed herself for not having the forethought to grab some coffee to go.

The high-pitched giggling of some woman standing in line behind her set her teeth on edge. It wasn’t even eight in the morning; how could somebody be so freaking happy?

“James. Stop,” the woman said and giggled again, apparently unaware of the time or Quinn’s tentative hold on her patience. Something brushed against Quinn’s back and she shot a glare over her shoulder.

The couple didn’t seem to notice that they’d invaded her space as their heads were too close together whispering sweet nothings in the other’s ear.

Good grief. Who the heck made out in the middle of the street like this on a Monday morning?

Fortunately, the space ahead of her cleared, and she stepped forward and placed an order for the largest cup of coffee she could buy as she dug her wallet out of her bag.

Three forty-five. She knew she had to have that in here somewhere…

Damn. She thought she had a five in here. The coffee was now sitting there, just waiting in front of her, whispering her name. She dug through her change. Ah, a folded bill that she handed over and then dumped the handful of change out and began to count.

It was something of a test in humiliation to stand there, aware of the eyes of the couple behind her and a few more people who’d since arrived. But payday wasn’t until the end of the week, although it wasn’t like there’d be much left over after she paid the gouging student loan payments or the equally astronomical medical bills.

Three fifteen, twenty-five… She flipped her wallet upside down, desperate for another quarter.

“Here. Allow me.” She looked up as someone held out a ten-dollar bill.

It was the other half of the make-out couple. A man who was studying her with a touch of pity in eyes that were as deep and blue as the water under the Bay Bridge. She blinked.

No. Not a chance.

She wouldn’t owe him or anyone.

Even if, in that dark gray suit that screamed designer the way it practically molded to his broad shoulders, he could clearly afford it. “No, I’m fine. Let me just check one more…”

“I’d be doing myself a favor as much as you since I’m actually running late.”

But she kept digging, her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

Aha. Almost triumphantly, she dropped more change onto the counter. “I’ve got it. Thank you very much.”

She clasped the warm coffee in one hand and dropped her useless wallet into her bag and raced away. At the security counter, she gave her name to the guy, who handed her a visitor badge and sent her in the direction of the elevators. Impatiently, she pushed the up button and took a long sip of her coffee despite the sting on her tongue that couldn’t be helped.

A long minute later, the elevator doors finally opened, and a handful of people stepped off. She patiently waited until the last person meandered out before racing in and pushing the button for the twenty-seventh floor.

“Hold the elevator,” someone called out.

Damn. She crept into the corner, out of sight from anyone outside the elevator. It wasn’t like she was pushing the close-the-door button or anything. If they made it, fine. If not, there’d be another elevator in another minute…

The doors began to shut and she relaxed her shoulders and exhaled in relief.

Only to nearly jump out of her shoes when a hand shot out and stopped the doors from closing. The doors immediately opened, and to her dismay, the man from the coffee cart stood in front of her.

“Good morning.” He sounded suspiciously bright as he stepped in, grinning at her in a way that told her he knew very well that she’d been hoping to avoid his entry.

“Good morning.” She could at least be polite.

Only he didn’t remove his hand from the door, instead tilting his head to the side as he waited.

She took a deep breath in and out. She wasn’t that late. “Could I get a floor for you?” she asked, hoping to prod him to step back and let her get to her meeting.

There was no mistaking the annoyance in her tone.

“Ah, that won’t be necessary.”

Quinn could hear the clacking sound of heels making their way toward them. Twenty excruciating seconds later, the stunning blonde stepped inside. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn these shoes,” she said and giggled again.

Quinn couldn’t help but agree. They had to be four inches tall at least.

The guy removed his hand from the door, and a moment later, the door shut.

Hoping to avoid eye contact, Quinn pulled her phone out. Not as bad as she feared, and if she hoofed it, she might have a few seconds to spare.

The elevator swept upwards, and she tried not to glance over at the lovebirds despite their whispering.

Focus. There’s too much riding on today.

Thornhill Management was finally coming to the table to discuss a possible settlement after battling for over a year every single minute detail of the case with Meiers and Rooney. As the associate attorney, she’d already spent hundreds of billable hours making sure their clients had a well-prepared and well-argued case.

“Fine. But promise me that we’ll celebrate tonight,” the woman whispered loudly as she wrapped her arms around the guy and leaned into him.

As if sensing Quinn’s attention, the blonde looked over, her gaze dropping down to the sensible black two-inch heels on Quinn’s feet and up past the conservative black skirt and matching suit jacket, to the tidy French twist and wide-framed glasses perched on her nose.

By the blonde’s stifled giggle, she evidently found Quinn’s appearance sorely lacking. The Adonis with golden-brown hair that waved artfully above his brow and those cursed blue eyes paused to study her with some interest before leaning down to catch whatever the woman was whispering in his ear. Undoubtedly about Quinn.

Whatever. Quinn wasn’t here to win a beauty contest.

Much to her relief, the elevator slowed and opened. Without another glance at the couple, Quinn walked out and headed to the front desk. Giving her name to the receptionist, she was led back to a large, open-glassed conference room where everyone was already waiting.

Rooney nodded slightly in greeting as she entered. Dennis Monson, the general counsel for Thornhill Management, along with their outside counsel, a stern-faced woman from a large, reputable law firm, were also already present. However, Mr. Neil Thornhill, CEO of the company that was being sued, was still not present.

Quinn took the open seat next to Rooney and met Dennis Monson’s condescending gaze.

“Good morning, Ms. Taylor,” the short, beady-eyed general counsel said in that same ingratiating tone he used whenever he’d addressed her, either in depositions, on the phone, or in court. He glanced pointedly at the clock above the door. “I hadn’t realized you were coming or I might have waited to share the news. As it happens, there’s been a bit of a…changeover in our upper management. I’m afraid Mr. Neil Thornhill is no longer the acting CEO of Thornhill Management. Fortunately, the board has already found his successor, who should be joining us momentarily.” This last he said with a touch of impatience as he glanced at the door.

This
was
news and incredibly unexpected. What would this mean to the case? All good things, she hoped, since, having met the man on several occasions, she’d had the impression that the now former CEO was an egotistical sexist dictator. Although Neil Thornhill couldn’t be much older than fifty, he’d made it quite clear that he likened the employees who were suing the company to ungrateful serfs from another time period. He’d made it abundantly clear that he’d as soon fork over millions of dollars fighting a losing suit than reach any form of settlement.

She was definitely glad to see him go, but it begged the question…why would Neil Thornhill no longer be at the helm? Had he resigned? Had he been forced out?—something that seemed almost impossible considering Neil was the nephew to the great Cyrus Thornhill, founder, former CEO, and current chairman of the board of directors.

Wonder what Christmas dinner was going to be like at that house….

The conference door swung open, and the Adonis who’d been necking with the blonde in the elevator sauntered in.

“I trust I’m not late.”

This had to be a joke. This man who’d witnessed her humiliation at the coffee cart and then later in the elevator could not be the new CEO of the company her law firm was trying to bring to heel.

Whereas Neil Thornhill had been short and dodgy-looking with dark, squinty brown eyes that she’d likened to Lucifer’s, the junior Thornhill was nothing short of breathtaking—as he well knew. Tall and broad-shouldered with that golden-brown hair with subtle blond highlights—probably resulting from playing under the sun on some tropical beach on a vacation paid for off the backs of the company’s underpaid employees—he was one of those men who caught your eye the second he walked in the door.

Dennis took over the introductions, starting at the other end of the table and working his way around the room. Quinn held her breath, unsure if the new CEO would take the opportunity to bring up the unfortunate events of her morning to humiliate her.

His eyes lit on her, and she saw that glimmer of recognition as his lips quirked up into a smile—a smug smile, she might add.

Quinn exhaled slowly in an effort to still her nerves.

She wouldn’t let this overindulged, privileged playboy get the upper hand. There was too much at stake, too many good people who needed this thing settled once and for all so they could all move on.

Straightening her back, she met James Thornhill’s gaze dead on, pinning her own slight smile in place.

He would not see her sweat.

“I really don’t want to waste any more of anyone’s valuable time this morning,” James Thornhill began. “I’ve been following the case for some time, so I’m well acquainted with the employees’ claims and the company’s position to date. As the newly appointed CEO of Thornhill Management, I want to thank everyone for their hard work and tireless efforts to see that our employees have been and will continue to be treated with the utmost integrity and professional respect.”

He paused, taking a moment to meet her gaze before continuing, as if going for maximum effect. “But having spoken to our attorneys and relaying my intentions to the board, I think it’s in the company’s interest to put all of this behind us so we can move into the future with a more positive outlook. In pursuit of that, we are interested in settling this matter for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

There was silence as Quinn tried to take this in. Her first thought was that the rumors were true. Thornhill must be looking to make a deal to franchise the internationally renowned coffee chain Blossom Brew. And if he was, she was just as certain that the Blossom folks wouldn’t want to be linked to a class action lawsuit for discrimination, nor would any investors.

She leaned over to Rooney, whispering low, “The Blossom Brew deal must be on the line. Counter with four hundred and twenty thousand, along with mandatory annual training for the next five years.”

Quinn received some satisfaction when, a moment later, Rooney countered in that exact amount, and James Thornhill thrust his right eyebrow up as he stared at her.

She smiled—a real smile—for the first time all morning.