Love 'N' Marriage

Chapter One

Stephanie Coulter sauntered into the personnel office at Lockwood Industries carrying a brown paper bag. Her friend, Jan Michaels, glanced up expectantly. “Hi. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

In response, Stephanie placed the sack on the top of Jan’s desk.

“What’s that?”

Stephanie sat on the corner of her friend’s desk and folded her arms. “Maureen sent the books. It seems I’ve been allotted the privilege of delivering romances.”

“I take it Potter is still sick?”

“Right.” The entire morning had been a series of frustrations for Stephanie. Her boss was out with a bad case of the flu for the third consecutive day. For the first couple of days, Stephanie had been able to occupy herself with the little things a secretary never seems to find the time to do. Things like clearing out the filing cabinets and reorganizing her desk. But by the third morning she’d run out of ideas, and had ended up typing a letter to her parents, feeling guilty about doing it on company time.

“Old Stone Face is out as well,” Jan informed her. The uncomplimentary name had been bestowed upon the executive secretary to the company’s president, Jonas Lockwood. In the two years that Stephanie had been working for the company, she’d never known Bertha Westheimer to miss a day. For that matter, Stephanie had never even visited the older woman’s domain on the top floor, and doubted that she ever would. Bertha guarded her territory like a polar bear protecting her cubs.

The corner of Jan’s mouth twitched. “And guess who’s working with Mr. Lockwood? You’re going to love this.”

“Who?” Stephanie mentally reviewed the list of possible candidates, coming up blank. “Mimi Palmer.”

“Who?”

“Mimi Palmer. She’s been here about a month, working in the typing pool, and—get this—she’s Old Stone Face’s niece.”

“I can just imagine how that’s working out.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints yet,” Jan murmured as she opened the paper bag. “But then it’s still early.” She took out the top book and shot a questioning glance in Stephanie’s direction. “Are you sure you don’t want to read one of these? They’re great, Steph, and if you’re looking to kill time...”

Stephanie held up both palms and shook her head adamantly. “That would look terrific, wouldn’t it.

Can you imagine what Potter would say if he walked in and caught me reading one of those?”

“Take one home,” Jan offered next.

“No, thanks. I’m just not into romances.”

From the look Jan was giving her, Stephanie could tell that her friend wasn’t pleased with her response. She knew that several of the other women employees at Lockwood Industries read romances and often traded books back and forth. To be honest, she didn’t see why the women found them so enjoyable, but since she hadn’t read one she felt she didn’t have any right to judge.

“I wish you wouldn’t be so closed-minded, especially since—” She was interrupted when the door burst open and Mr. Lockwood himself stormed into the room like an unexpected squall. He was tall and broad-shouldered and walked with a cane, his limp more exaggerated than Stephanie could ever recall seeing it. She remembered the first time she’d seen Jonas Lockwood and the fleeting sadness she’d felt that a man so attractive would be chained so. The twisted right leg marred the perfection of his healthy, strong body. His appearance was that of a cynical, relentless male. As always, Stephanie couldn’t take her eyes away from him. His dark good looks commanded her attention anytime he was near.

He paused only a second while his frosty blue gaze ran over her in an emotionless inspection, dismissing her. She wasn’t accustomed to anyone regarding her as though she were nothing more than a pesky piece of lint. It infuriated Stephanie even more that his reaction should bother her at all. She hadn’t exactly been holding her breath waiting for the company president to notice her. She found him intriguing, and subconsciously had expected some reaction from him once they met. He revealed nothing except irritation.

“Damn it, Michaels, couldn’t you find me a decent replacement for even one day?” he roared, completely ignoring Stephanie.

“Mr. Lockwood, sir.” Clearing her throat, Jan got to her feet. “Sir, is there a problem?”

“I’d hardly be standing here if there wasn’t,” he gritted. “Why the hell would you send me that nitwit woman in the first place?”

“Sir, Miss Westheimer recommended Miss Palmer. She told me that Miss Palmer is highly qualified—”

“She’s utterly incompetent.” He certainly didn’t mince words, Stephanie mused. “I specifically asked for a mature secretary. Certainly that shouldn’t be such a difficult request.”

“But, sir...”

“Older, more mature women approach the office with businesslike attitudes, and are far less emotional.”

That had to be one of the most unfair cracks Stephanie had ever heard. She bristled involuntarily. “If you’ll excuse me for interrupting, I’d like to point out to Mr. Lockwood that a qualified secretary is able to adapt to any given situation. I sincerely doubt that age has anything to do with it.”

His sharp eyes blazed over her face. “Who are you?”

“Stephanie Coulter.”

“Miss Coulter is Mr. Potter’s secretary—”

“Do you always speak out of turn?” He eyed her with open disapproval.

“Only when the occasion calls for it.”

“Can you type?”

“One hundred words a minute.”

“Shorthand?”

“Yes.”

“Follow me.”

“But, Mr. Lockwood...” Stephanie felt like a tongue-tied idiot for having spoken out of turn.

“Apparently Ms. Coulter is willing to prove just how qualified she is. She can work for me today. What you tell Potter is no concern of mine.” He turned abruptly, obviously expecting Stephanie to trot after him obediently.

Stephanie’s gaze clashed with her friend’s. “I guess that answers that.”

Grinning, Jan pointed in the direction of the elevator. “Good luck.”

Stephanie had the distinct feeling she was going to need it.

Walking briskly down the wide corridor, she arrived just as the elevator door parted. She stepped inside, holding herself stiffly.

Jonas Lockwood moved forward and pushed the appropriate button, then stepped back. Stephanie noted that he leaned heavily on the cane. She had trouble remembering the last time she’d seen him use one. More often than not, he walked without it.

The elevator rode silently to the top floor, and the door swished open to reveal a huge open area. His office took up the entire top floor. Half of the area was taken up by an immense reception area with a circular desk in the center.

“This way,” he said, giving her a derisive look.

Speechless, Stephanie followed him, awestruck by the plush furniture in the gigantic office. The view of Minneapolis was spectacular, but Stephanie didn’t dare stop to appreciate it. Mimi Palmer sat at the large circular desk, sniffling. Her blond hair bounced against the tops of her shoulders as her head bobbed up and down in an effort to curtail her tears. Another man Stephanie didn’t recognize was pacing the area near the desk. He glanced up when Jonas and Stephanie approached, and frowned. The man was ruggedly built and of medium height. Stephanie guessed his age to be around forty-five, perhaps a bit older.

“Jonas, I’m sure the young lady didn’t mean any harm.” The other man spoke for the first time.

Jonas disregarded the man as effectively as he’d ignored Stephanie only moments before. He stepped in front of the crying Mimi and shot a poisonous glance in her direction. “She may have ruined six months of negotiations with her incompetence.”

“I’m sorry, s-so sorry,” Mimi cried. “I didn’t know.”

“Not only does she keep an important call on hold for fifteen minutes while she makes a pot of coffee, she insults the company president by asking stupid questions, and then can’t locate the file.”

Mimi covered her face with her hands and released a high-pitched cry. “I was only trying to help.”

Jonas snorted, and Mimi let out another wail.

Stephanie moved forward. “Mimi, stop crying. You’re not doing anyone any good. Unless you can help here, I’d suggest you go to the ladies’ room and compose yourself.” She turned to Jonas. “Tell me the name on the file, and I’ll see if I can locate it.”

“Phinney.”

“I doubt Ms. Palmer lost it. Under pressure, she might have had trouble spelling it.” The filing-cabinet drawer shot open as Stephanie located the
Ph’s
and sorted through the neatly organized drawer. Within seconds she located it, pulled it free and handed it to Jonas. “If you’d like, I can phone back and explain. I’ll come up with some excuse.”

“I’ll do it,” he barked.

“Fine.”

“Now what can I do for you?” She directed her question at the middle-aged man who stood in the center of the room with his mouth hanging open.

“I’m Adam Holmes.”

“Mr. Holmes,” Stephanie acknowledged briskly. “As I’m sure Mr. Lockwood explained, his secretary is ill for the day, but if I can help you, I’d be most pleased to do so.”

He opened his leather briefcase. “I’m here to drop off a few papers for Jonas to read over.”

Stephanie took them from his outstretched hand. “I’ll see to it that Mr. Lockwood receives these.”

“I don’t doubt you for an instant,” he said with a low chuckle. ‘ ‘Tell Jonas to contact me at my office if he has any questions.”

“I’ll do that.”

The phone beeped, and Stephanie reached for the receiver. “Mr. Lockwood’s office,” she said in a crisp, professional voice, then wrote down the message, promising the caller that Mr. Lockwood would return the call.

While she was writing down the information, Adam Holmes raised his hand in salute and sauntered toward the elevator. Stephanie watched him go. There was a kindness to his features, and the spark in his dark blue eyes assured her that he was far from old.

The phone rang twice more while Stephanie sorted through the mail. She wrote down the messages and put them in a neat stack, waiting for Jonas to be off the line so she could give them to him.

Mimi reappeared dabbing at the corner of her right eye with a tissue. “I made a mess of things, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Stephanie offered the woman a warm smile with her reassurance. “This job was just more than you were used to handling.”

“I’m a good typist.”

“I think you must be.”

“Aunt Bertha said I wouldn’t have any problems for one day.”

“Your aunt seems to have underestimated the demands of her position.”

“I... think she did, too,” Mimi said. “Would it be all right if I went back to the typing pool? I don’t think I’ll be any good around here.”

“That’ll be fine, Mimi. I’ll tell Mr. Lockwood for you.”

At the mention of their employer’s name, Mimi grimaced. “He’s horrible.”

Stephanie watched the young blonde leave, furious with Old Stone Face for having put her niece in such an unenviable position. An hour later, however, Stephanie came to agree with Mimi’s assessment of her employer. He
was
horrible.

A couple of minutes after Mimi’s departure, Jonas called her into his office. Stephanie took the phone messages and the mail with her.

“Take a letter,” he said without glancing up from the huge rosewood desk.

Stephanie was too stunned by his cool, unemotional tone to react quickly enough to suit him.

“Do you plan to memorize it?” he said, taunting her.

“Of course not...” Stephanie didn’t fluster easily, but already this arrogant, unreasonable man had broken through her cool manner. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll get a pad and pen.”

“That’s generally recommended.”

No sooner had she reappeared than her employer began dictating his daily correspondence. He barely paused to breathe between letters, obviously expecting her to keep pace with him. When he’d finished, he handed her a pile of financial reports and asked her to type them.

“How soon will you have them ready?” His expressionless blue eyes cut into her. The impatience in his gaze told her that half the day was gone already, and there was business to be done.

“Within the hour,” she replied, knowing she’d have to draw upon every skill she’d learned as a secretary to meet her own deadline.

“Good.” He lowered his gaze in a gesture of dismissal, and Stephanie returned to the other office, disliking him all the more.