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The Boss's Daughter. Leigh MichaelsЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Boss's Daughter - Leigh Michaels


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the real meaning of ‘for better or for worse.’ And she looks stunning in white.”

      “That’s not what I’m concerned about. Of course she’ll be there for me.”

      I hope you’re right, Amy wanted to say.

      “It’s the auction house, you see. My doctor says I can’t go back to work for several weeks, so someone will have to step in, and of course you’re the obvious choice…” His voice trailed off as he looked up at her.

      Amy was already shaking her head, and her voice was steady. “I don’t work there anymore, Gavin. Remember?”

      “Officially you’re still on a leave of absence, you know.”

      “I told you I quit, and I meant it. It was your choice not to accept my resignation.”

      Gavin didn’t seem to hear her. “And if it hadn’t been for that silly misunderstanding, you would still be there. So it’s only sensible that you come back and—”

      “Silly misunderstanding? I walked into your office and found you on the couch with Honey, and you call it a silly misunderstanding?”

      “Of course you were upset, Amy.”

      “Darn right I was. Remember? That was the first clue I had that you were planning to divorce my mother.”

      “I know. And I truly wish you hadn’t found out that way.”

      “That,” Amy said tersely, “makes two of us.”

      “But to actually leave your job, to turn your back on the family business, over something like that…Honestly, Amy, now that you’ve had a chance to cool off and think it over, don’t you agree that you were being a little excessive?”

      Amy considered. “Yes,” she said finally. “I was a little excessive. I should have gone back to my desk and written you a polite resignation letter instead of screaming ‘I quit!’ at the top of my lungs in the middle of the executive suite while Honey was still trying to get her sweater back on. My technique left a lot to be desired, I admit—put it down to the shock of the situation. But if you’re asking whether I have regrets over my decision—no, I don’t. After a display of that sort of bad judgment, I’d have trouble trusting any boss.”

      Gavin looked at her shrewdly. “You can’t expect me to believe that you don’t miss the auction house.”

      He was right about that, Amy conceded. She couldn’t honestly say that she didn’t miss Sherwood Auctions. She’d worked in her father’s business, in one capacity or another, ever since she could remember. Before she was a teenager, she’d been running errands, cleaning offices, watching the cloakroom. Later she’d moved up to writing catalog copy, spotting bids during auctions, and researching merchandise. And as soon as she had her degree she’d joined the full-time staff, though she’d still moved from department to department—taking a hand wherever she was needed.

      Leaving a firm which had occupied so much of her life wouldn’t have been easy under any circumstances, but that fact didn’t mean she was sorry she’d done it. Once she was finally settled in a new job, she’d be contented again.

      “It was time for a change, and I’m looking forward to new challenges.” She knew she sounded evasive.

      Gavin bored in. “Doing what?”

      “I’m not absolutely certain yet. But just because I haven’t accepted a job doesn’t mean I don’t have any prospects.”

      “But the bottom line is that you’re still out of work,” Gavin mused. “Even after more than two months of looking.”

      “Blame yourself for that, because you paid me well enough that I could take my time and look around instead of jumping at the first possibility. And if you’re speculating on why no one seems to want me—as a matter of fact, it looks as if I’m going to have three different offers any day now. Good offers, too. I’ll have a hard time figuring out which one I want to take.”

      Gavin said slowly, “And each of them will give you a big change and a new challenge? Is that really what you want, Amy?”

      “Yes, it is. I’m sorry, but—” She could afford to be gentle, now that he finally seemed to be hearing her.

      “That’s exactly why you should come back and run the auction house instead,” Gavin pointed out brightly. “That’ll be a big change and a new challenge, too, because you’ve always worked in the separate departments. You’ve never before tried being in charge of everything.”

      “And that’s why I’m the wrong person for the job. You’ve got a personal assistant who already oversees all the details. Why not promote him?”

      “His name isn’t Sherwood.”

      “So maybe he’ll change it if you ask him nicely.”

      Gavin looked at her narrowly. “You still haven’t forgiven me for hiring Dylan instead of giving you the job, have you, Amy?”

      “Where did you get that delusion? I didn’t want to be a glorified secretary, making phone calls and excuses.”

      “Dylan is not a glorified secretary.”

      “Great. If he’s been so involved in the business, he’s capable of taking over for a while. I don’t know why you wanted a personal assistant in the first place if you aren’t going to use him to advantage.”

      “Dylan is very good,” Gavin said, but Amy thought the tone of his voice sounded far less certain than the words. “But you know how personal the auction business is. It’s a matter of trust, and I’ve worked for decades to build up that trust. My clients trust Sherwood Auctions because they trust me.”

      “So if you’re saying that no one can take your place, Gavin, what’s the point of asking me to try?”

      “Because the next best thing to the Sherwood they’re familiar with is a different Sherwood. It’s just the same as when my father handed the business down to me, back when we were still selling farm machinery and odds and ends instead of antiques and fine art. His clients were willing to give me a try, because I was his son. And you don’t only have the name, Amy, and the instincts—you’ve got twenty years of experience in the business.”

      “Only if you count when I was six years old and I handed out catalogs to bidders as they came into the auctions,” Amy muttered. “I had to stand on a chair.”

      Gavin smiled. “And our auctions in those days were still small enough that a child could handle the weight of a stack of catalogs.”

      “Nostalgia is not going to change my mind, Gavin. Give your personal assistant a chance. If this hadn’t happened, you’d have counted on him to keep the place running while you were on your honeymoon. What’s so different about letting him take over now? It’s just a little longer, that’s all.” Amy stood up and firmly changed the subject. “Speaking of honeymoons, is the date firm yet? Though I suppose it would be chancy to choose a day for the wedding before the divorce is final.”

      Gavin didn’t seem to hear her. His hand went out to clutch at her sleeve. “All right. I didn’t want to tell you this, Amy, but I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

      Now what was he going to try? Hadn’t he already run the gamut of persuasive techniques?

      “You know, of course, about the financial settlement your mother and I have agreed to as part of the divorce.”

      “I know you made an agreement,” Amy said slowly. “She didn’t give me the details, and I didn’t think it was any of my concern as long as Mother was satisfied.”

      “Well, that’s the problem, you see. She may not be satisfied for much longer.”

      Amy sat down again. “Perhaps you’d better take this from the top, Gavin.”

      “We agreed to split our assets


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