Mom for the CEO's Daughter by Susan Meier

Chapter One
    She brought a bikini?
    Gabriel Fulton, owner of Fulton Everything, stared at his usually prim and proper assistant as she walked from his beach house toward him and his four-year-old daughter, Stacy. He hastily shut his sagging-in-disbelief mouth. But as his assistant got closer, her long legs making short order of the shiny white sand of the beach in Charleston, South Carolina, his mouth fell open again.
    â€œThat’s some suit.”
    Hot pink with tiny bikini briefs held together by string ties on both sides of her hips, it could only be worn by someone with a smoking hot bod. He’d have never suspected conservative Kara Kincaid fit the bill. But she did.
    She laughed. “I’m a twenty-seven-year-old single woman. What did you think I’d wear to the beach? A turtleneck and jeans?”
    Yes. That’s exactly what he’d thought. Well, maybe not
exactly
, but he certainly hadn’t expected a bikini. Normally she wore bland suits and white blouses, her red hair always caught in a fat bun at her nape. He’d assumed she owned a one-piece. Never in a million years would he have guessed she’d wear a suit so…so…
hot
that it kicked his hormones awake. Or that she’d unbind her glorious auburn hair and let it fly around her in the ocean breeze.
    â€œYou gave me two-hours warning that we’d be working from the beach for two weeks. I couldn’t shop. I had to pack what I had.”
    â€œIt’s pretty,” Stacy piped in. Shielding her eyes from the sun, his blue-eyed, blond-haired daughter grinned. “You look like Barbie.”
    Smiling, Kara stooped down beside her. “Thanks.”
    â€œYou’re welcome,” Stacy said as she bounced up to retrieve a plastic bucket that had rolled away in the ocean breeze.
    Kara quickly faced Gabe. “So why the sudden shift in plans?”
    Irritation flared in his gut at his ex-wife. He hated the way she made last-minute demands when it came to Stacy, knowing he’d never let his baby girl down. Normally, he didn’t talk about his ex, but he and Kara had no secrets.
    A fact that suddenly struck him as odd. He wasn’t the type of guy to confide in anyone, yet somehow Kara had bridged all his defenses.
    He shook his head. She was his assistant.
Trusted
assistant. She needed to be informed. Of course they didn’t have secrets.
    â€œMy ex brought Stacy to my house an hour before her flight departed, saying she’d made a sudden decision to go to London. I had no choice except to bring Stacy with me. But with you along, I’ll get to spend time with Stacy and we’ll still be able to negotiate the Bronson takeover.”
    â€œWell, if plans have to change, this is a nice way to change them.” She sucked in the salt air, causing her full breasts to rise and fall and his temperature to hit simmer.
    He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Why was he suddenly noticing these things about his assistant?
    â€œSeems to me that this is one of the perks of being rich. You own a beach house. You have privacy to negotiate your super-secret deal, and you can still be with your daughter.” She turned to Stacy who returned with the flyaway plastic pail. “I’ll bet you love it here, don’t you?”
    Stacy nodded. “And there’s usually kids next door,” she said, pointing at the blue house beside his yellow one.
    That was supposed to have been another perk of his plan to work at his beach house. For a few hours every day, Stacy could play with Owen, Helaina and Claire, the triplets of Missy Johnson who had married publishing mogul Wyatt McKenzie, and he and Kara could get some work done.
    But their neighbors had been out when they’d arrived, and he and Kara had had to entertain Stacy. He was glad his daughter got along with Kara and that they were comfortable with each other. Except…
    Except today, maybe because they were playing instead of