Make Love Not War Read Free

debated whether the correct procedure would be to go in and greet her boss, perhaps offer him coffee?  It would be rude if she didn’t. On the other hand…
    The ringing of the internal phone interrupted her deliberations. “Caroline speaking.”
    “Good morning. Would you make a pot of coffee and bring it in to me. Two cups, please.”
    “Yes, Mr. Harrington, of course.”
    Two cups?  He wasn’t alone. She hurried into the kitchen and set up a tray with a coffeepot, milk, sugar, and a plate of chocolate biscuits.
    When the coffee was ready, she tapped on his door and walked in. Oh, God, if only she hadn’t. He held a gorgeous redhead in his arms.
    “Bryce, darling.”
    The husky female voice was silenced by his enticing, sexy mouth. Jealousy corroded the lining of Caroline’s stomach, paring it away, and she almost doubled over with the pain.
    She cleared her throat. “Mr. Harrington? Y…Your coffee.”
    He dragged his mouth free, but held the woman close with a hand on her neat little backside.
    “Don’t you believe in knocking?” His gunmetal gray eyes impaled Caroline, and like a mesmerized rabbit she couldn’t look away.
    “I did knock, but I guess you…” She nearly said, were too pre-occupied. “Um, didn’t hear me.”
    “Put it over there.”  He waved a tanned, well-manicured hand towards the antique mahogany desk. “Thanks. Don’t stand there dithering, I’ve left plenty of work on your desk.”
    Did he really think she wanted to watch as he held his lady friend in a passionate clinch?  
    “Bryce, darling, don’t be such a grouch.” The redhead gave a breathy laugh. “You’ll frighten the poor girl to death.” 
    Caroline pivoted on one stiletto heel. Thank goodness it didn’t snap off. She stifled a sudden jealous impulse to kick the door shut behind her.
    It served her right for committing the cardinal sin, the definite no-no for any sensible secretary, falling in love with your boss. Could she put up with watching him canoodling with other women?
    Twenty minutes later, the ravishing redhead glided out. Caroline recognized her. Shereen St. Clair, a top model, elegant, sophisticated, and pencil-thin. She remembered seeing the woman’s pictures in the newspapers and fashion magazines. How could any ordinary mortal hope to compete with such perfection?
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Two
     
      Joan had not returned to work but sent in a letter of resignation. Maybe she had tired of Bryce’s mercurial mo od swings , and the continual stream of tantrum-throwing women. Caroline had bec o me all too familiar with those lady friends. Why did she set herself up for constant heartache by accepting the position as his secretary? The rise in salary was welcome, but she earned every cent of it.
    She arranged flowers for his current favorite, organized movie and restaurant bookings and vetted all his calls. Those women who held his interest she put through to him, or pacified them if he couldn’t come to the phone.
    The castoffs, she dealt with them, also. It wasn’t easy. Petulant, spoiled socialites or movie stars didn’t like being unceremoniously dumped.
    One particularly nasty piece of work, Natalie Dubois, a wanna-be movie star, had been so abusive, Caroline had put her on ‘ hold ’ and dashed into Bryce’s office.
    “Line one,” she yelled in a fit of uncharacteristic temper. “You break it off with her. I won’t have a creature like Natalie Dubois calling me foul names.”
    He calmly picked up the phone. “Natalie, abuse my secretary again and you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. By the way, we’re through.” He slammed the phone down. “Satisfied?” He returned to his work as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
    As she typed a long letter, she stabbed the keys in angry frustration. She shouldn’t put up with his bad temper and playboy ways, but she couldn’t bear not to see him, either. On the rare occasions when he did smile at her, the whole office lit up like a