Engaged with the Boss

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She shrugged, maintaining her pretense of nonchalance when what she really wanted was to find a quiet, dark closet to hide in until her insides quit trembling. She could just imagine her reaction had it been a real engagement.

Devin stared into her face, his brows knitting as they did when he was working out a problem in his head.

“What? Having second thoughts?” Her heart stuttered to a stop and she held her breath. Not like the engagement was real or anything. “That’s bad when you’re having second thoughts about an engagement that really isn’t. Does the thought of a Kendall marrying a lowly executive assistant go against the grain?” She tried to laugh, failing miserably.

He shook his head. “No. I was thinking we should seal this deal in some way.” His frown lifted and he leaned closer, his hand rising to cup the back of her neck, drawing her closer. “Perhaps with a kiss.”

A Golden Heart winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, ELLE JAMES started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She managed a full-time job, raised three wonderful children and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. She loves building exciting stories about heroes, heroines, romance and passion. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at [email protected] or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.

This book is dedicated to the Mills & Boon^>® Intrigue editors—Denise Zaza and Allison Lyons—who have shown continued faith and confidence in my storytelling abilities.

Thank you for your support and encouragement.

Devin Kendall left his office at Kendall Communications late as usual, long after rush hour. When he stepped out into the parking garage, he waved as his uncle Craig drove past.

Weary beyond sanity, Devin climbed into his Lexus SUV and relaxed into the leather bucket seats. As tired as he was, he could fall asleep here. All he had to do was recline the seat and close his eyes.

The temptation was great, considering he hadn’t slept much the past few nights. Not with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Or at least the weight of his family’s safety, which in Devin’s mind was his world.

All these years they’d been so certain the killer who’d taken his parents’ lives was off the street, no longer a threat.

That belief had been shattered just a few weeks ago. DNA evidence had proved that Rick Campbell, the man who’d spent the better part of twenty years in jail for the crime, wasn’t the one who’d committed the murders. The police had arrested and the jury had sentenced the wrong man. His parents’ killer still remained at large.

Devin hadn’t slept well since, knowing the killer had been free all this time.

He buckled up, cranked the engine and drove out of the parking garage onto the streets of downtown St. Louis. He noticed his uncle’s car turned left out of the parking garage onto Market Street. As Devin headed east, a car that had been illegally parked on the normally busy street slipped in behind his uncle’s four-door BMW sedan.

This late in the evening, it was not unusual for there to be cars moving up and down Market Street. But something about the way the vehicle had slipped in behind his uncle’s car had the hairs on the back of Devin’s neck standing on end.

The car’s driver hadn’t switched his lights on. The streetlamps gave out enough light that a person could forget to turn on their headlights, but the feeling scratching across his subconscious wouldn’t let Devin rest.

Instead of turning right toward the warehouse district where he lived, Devin made the decision to follow his uncle for a couple blocks. Just in case.

He stayed far enough behind the two cars as not to generate suspicion, until he noticed the vehicle following his uncle didn’t have a license plate. Alarm bells sounded in Devin’s head. He increased his speed, closing the distance between his SUV and the two cars ahead until he was only a hundred yards behind. He wasn’t fast enough.

When his uncle turned north on Jefferson Avenue, the nondescript car behind him sped up. As they rounded the corner, the trailing car rammed into Craig’s sedan, slamming the BMW into the traffic light pole. The unlicensed car sped away, leaving a trail of burned rubber.

Devin skidded his Lexus to a halt behind his uncle’s vehicle, hit the hazard light switch and jumped out.

“Uncle Craig!” He reached the driver’s door as his uncle pounded against it.