From Boss to Bridegroom by Victoria Pade

in with the release papers andLucy left the room so the nurse could help Rand into his clothes again.
    When she got outside the room she telephoned Frank, who was there with the car by the time the nurse pushed Rand out in a wheelchair.
    Getting him into the car was no easy task but they managed, and Rand promptly rested his head against the back of the seat and fell asleep for the ride home.
    It left Lucy in a quandary.
    There was more work she could have done but she didn’t have any inclination to do it. Instead her gaze kept straying to Rand.
    There was no doubt about it, he was a very appealing sight.
    His hair was mussed and gave her a glimpse of the way he must have looked as a boy. He had long, thick eyelashes—something she hadn’t noticed before—so long and thick they put most women’s lashes to shame.
    His beard had reappeared through the day and shadowed his sharp jaw, lending him a rough, rugged look that only accentuated just how much man he was. Even his ears were sexy, with lobes that brought nibbling to mind. Nibbling Lucy imagined herself doing as a prelude to kissing her way down the strong column of his neck, along the rise of his Adam’s apple to the dip just below it where a few coarse hairs peeked from his open shirt collar….
    â€œHere we are,” Frank said through the smallwindow in the partition that separated the front seat from the back.
    Lucy jolted out of the fantasy she’d involuntarily slipped into, overcompensating by sitting up too straight.
    Rand opened only one eye and smiled a quirky smile that made her think he might not have been sleeping at all and might have known that she’d been taking a close look at him.
    â€œMy place?” he asked with a note of lasciviousness to his voice.
    â€œYour place,” Lucy confirmed, sounding like a drill sergeant.
    She got out of the car in a hurry, rounding it from the back at the same time the driver rounded it from the front, and meeting him at Rand’s passenger door.
    Frank opened it and when he did Rand tossed Lucy his keys. “I’m the eighth floor. Go ahead and let yourself in. Have a look around while Frank gets me out of this car and I have a chat with the doorman before I come up.”
    Without comment Lucy turned to the building they were parked in front of, taking it in for the first time. It was a stately old eight-story brownstone and granite structure. Twin cantilevers wrapped around both corners almost like turrets, and a pillared archway led to the courtyard entrance.
    A uniformed doorman opened the glass doorsas she approached, looking beyond her at Rand and asking no questions.
    The lobby was paneled in cherry wood and looked more like the bar in an elite men’s club than a mere lobby. Lucy didn’t hesitate to cross to the brass elevator, taking it to the eighth floor where it opened to only a short hallway and one set of double doors. Apparently the entire eighth floor was Rand’s.
    The key worked on the lock and she opened both doors, leaving them that way as she went in. The apartment was minimalist. Modern, stark, simple, yet lavish. Either he had perfect taste or his decorator did.
    There was a five-foot sculpture in the entryway—a black-and-gray abstract piece that swung at the slightest touch like a pendulum between matching slabs of black marble.
    To the left was the living room where three black leather sofas and two leather-and-chrome chairs were positioned in a square around a coffee table that was a piece of glass atop two stone cubes with a huge dowel that reached from the center hole of one cube to the center hole of the other like an artist’s rendition of a barbell.
    The room was very formal; the walls were lined with abstract paintings and sculptures, along with a sleek, black wet bar in one corner.
    Beyond the living room was an equally formal dining room, this space done in browns, tans, golds and animal prints. It looked like a