Head Over Heels for the Boss (Donovan Brothers) by Susan Meier Page A

from her seat and came over to the filing cabinets. “If it’s alphabetical, it should be a no-brainer.”
    He snorted.
    “It is alphabetical, right?”
    He said nothing.
    “Do not tell me you just shove files in drawers.”
    “Most of this”—he tapped on the filing cabinet—“is in my computer. I only keep hard copies just in case.”
    “Well, here you are at ‘just in case’ and you’re lost, aren’t you?”
    He shook his head. “Your mouth is going to get you into trouble someday,” he said, his gaze involuntarily lowering to her lips.
    She casually said, “Yeah, my dad used to tell me that.”
    But those weird emotions began to course through him again. Nowhere near love , but more than like , his affection for her combined with sexual responses and created one hell of a reaction in his body.
    “Are you staring at me again?”
    “You’re awfully hard not to notice.”
    Still poking through files, she peeked up at him. “I know. It’s the red hair.”
    “Not even a little bit. You’re pretty, but you’re a smart-ass. Educated but also a hard worker.”
    He stopped.
    Oh crap. She was him . The female version of him.
    Or maybe what she really was, was his equal.
    He stepped back.
    “I’ve been saying all along that I’m educated. It’s why I wanted to punch Charlene Simmons for her rude comments.” She found the file he’d been looking for and handed it to him. “Here.”
    He took the folder then stepped back a little more.
    “You know we could hire the Benjamin Brats to alphabetize everything in these files. You could create categories. You could designate a drawer to be for accounting and others to be for prospectuses you’re not interested in.” She waved her hands. “That kind of stuff.”
    Suddenly the room felt small and tight…and warm. Very, very warm. “That’s a good idea.”
    She smiled.
    His heart tripped over itself in his chest. Dear God. It was no wonder he found it so easy to talk to her. He didn’t just consider her a nice person or a sexy woman or a friend. He saw her as an equal. He’d never considered another person his equal before. True, he’d never tried. He’d never even thought about the concept before, but she was his equal.
    Maybe it was a good thing her parents wanted her to move. Maybe he should just back off and let her go.

    A t dinner that night, at the round table on the big deck in the back, the gestures of affection flowed like sweet syrup over pancakes. Finn doted over Ellie. Cade and Piper doted over Richard Sean. And Bob doted on his mom.
    Devon steeled himself against his cynical reaction to the fire chief. Twice Isabelle gave him a look, as if reminding him to be nice. Both times he had to hold back a growl.
    When the steaks were eaten and Piper and Isabelle had cut the apple pies Ellie had made that afternoon, his mother tapped her knife against her wineglass.
    “I’m so glad you could all make it to dinner tonight.”
    Everyone smiled or mumbled a thanks for the great dinner—even though Cade had actually grilled the steaks.
    His mother sucked in a breath. “I know this is going to seem sudden to you all, but Bob and I have an announcement.”
    Oh.
    No.
    Hell no.
    Wineglass in hand, Bob rose. “I’d like to ask you boys for your mother’s hand in marriage.”
    Devon’s face fell. Anger roared through him. But Finn bounced out of his seat and clasped Bob’s hand. Cade was right behind him.
    With piercing female squeals, Ellie and Piper jumped up to hug LuAnn.
    Isabelle sought Devon’s gaze. She nudged her head in the direction of the happy couple as her eyebrows rose, as if telling him he needed to get off his ass and go congratulate his mother.
    He pushed his chair back slowly. His ears began to ring. Nothing made any sense.
    No, that wasn’t true. One thing made perfect sense. A quick wedding between a newly divorced rich woman and a blue collar guy?
    This man was marrying his mom for her money.
    “I know this probably seems