Excerpt of Falling for the Boss by Elizabeth Harbison

"And that concludes the reading of the will of George Arthur Hanson."

Evan Hanson sat still in the stiff leather chair, feeling like a caricature of the prodigal son, drawn in invisible ink.

He'd returned, as prodigal sons always did, against his better judgment. Instinct had warned him that this would be nothing but trouble — and probably painful to boot — but he'd ignored instinct.

That was a mistake.

His uncle, David Hanson, had been unusually persuasive in convincing him to come back for the reading of the will. David knew Evan had suffered years of conflict with his father, and that George hadn't spoken to his son since he'd left. Still, David had pointed out to Evan that, while it might be too late to mend fences with his father, he could at least come and hear the patriarch's last message to him and perhaps gain some peace.

It had been peaceful, all right. In fact, his father's message was a resounding silence.

George Hanson had neglected to so much as mention Evan's name in his will, not even to say, "And to my second son, Evan, I leave absolutely nothing. Nada. Zip. Not even a stainless-steel spoon."

It was as if Evan didn't exist to his father. No, it was worse than that. Evan knew his father well enough to know this lack of mention meant that, to George, Evan really hadn't existed anymore once he'd left the country twelve years ago. Since George had effectively run him out of town twelve years ago, that was, by holding the worst kind of emotional blackmail over his head.

Since then, his job presumably done, George had written Evan off, forgotten about him completely.

Everyone knows it's more of an insult to ignore someone than to tell them off. And George had ignored Evan like a champ. They hadn't spoken in twelve years. Sure, Evan could shoulder half the blame for that, but when he'd left he was only eighteen, and his father knew damn well he'd created a situation that made Evan feel as if he couldn't come back.

Surely George should have seen the crisis he'd sent his teenage son into and done something to fix it, or at least make it better. It wasn't in George's nature to extend an olive branch, but even pelting Evan with olives would have been better than the eerie silence.

George hadn't bothered to do anything. He probably hadn't even thought about his middle son more than once or twice in the time between Then and Now.

If only Evan had the same sort of control over his thoughts. He'd have liked to forget his father...and the difficulty of losing his mother when he was seventeen.

And one or two other heartaches — well, one in particular — that had shaped him into the man he was today. A man who wanted nothing to do with his family or with intimate relationships of any sort.

The lawyer closed his books, and Evan's relatives began to discuss the reading amongst themselves, expressing anger at what they had or had not received and at the fact that George had left his young wife full control of Hanson Media Group.

Evan didn't care. It wasn't his problem. None of this was his problem. So with full intentions of leaving it behind forever, he took a deep breath, got up out of his chair and walked purposefully out of the room, planning to keep going until he got to the airport and left American soil for good.

He must have actually convinced himself that no one was aware of his presence because when he heard someone calling his name behind him, at first it didn't register.

"Evan!" It was a woman's voice. One he didn't recognize, though there was nothing surprising about that. It had been more than a decade since he'd heard the voice of anyone in that boardroom.

"Please stop, Evan," she said again. "I'd like to talk to you for a moment."

He stopped and turned to see his father's wife coming toward him in the hallway, a worried expression knitting her flawless features. Her golden hair framed her face as if it had been painted by Vermeer, and her green eyes were bright and alive.

Helen Hanson couldn't have been more obviously a trophy wife if she had been gilded and nailed to a slab of marble.

He'd never met her before — his father had married shortly after he'd left — but, given the circumstances of their meeting now, it wasn't easy to feel any warmth toward her.

"I know you're probably angry about what just happened in there," she began.

"I'm not angry." His tone was cold like his father's, he realized with disgust. "What happened in there —" he gestured toward the room

" — is no surprise. In fact, it's absolutely typical of your husband."

She gave a pained nod. "I see why you feel that way, but he was your father, Evan. Don't forget that. Though I know you must feel he rejected you."

He'd thought he'd reached his fill of pain but Helen's words managed to slice deeper still. "I don't feel he rejected me, I know he rejected me. But don't worry about it, it's not the first time. And knowing how spiteful the old son of a bitch could be, it's probably not the last time, either."

"Evan —"

"He could always find a way to express his displeasure with his family." Evan gave a dry laugh. "You might want to watch your own back. Not that you really have anything to worry about. I mean, you did get the company."

Helen winced slightly and hesitated before speaking. "Evan, the company belongs to the Hanson family.All of you, not me. It always will."

He gave a dry laugh and looked toward the conference room of the Hanson Media offices, where everyone was still arguing about the outcome of the will. "Try telling that to them."

"They'll find out in time," she answered. Her tone was dismissive of them, but she was looking at Evan intently. "But you — well, it looks like you're not going to stay in Chicago long enough to find out unless someone stops you."

He looked Helen Hanson up and down. She was beautiful — no surprise there — but she also had some nerve. "Is that what you think you're doing? Stopping me?"

She drew herself up and looked him in the eye. "That's what I'm hoping to do."

He shook his head. "Don't waste your effort. I've got no interest whatsoever in what happens to this damned company now."

"But you should," Helen urged. "Don't forget there's a stipulation that twenty percent of the company or company revenues will go to the grandchildren in twenty years."

Evan spread his arms and shrugged. "I realize my father probably didn't tell you much about me, so maybe it's news to you, but I don't have any kids."

Helen's expression softened. "I do know that. But you're only thirty, Evan. You don't know what's going to happen in the future. You might well change your mind."

It was on the tip of his tongue to contradict her, but he'd seen many foolish men make the mistake of banking on their single and childless status, only to be surprised by some turn of events later in life.

"Okay," he said. "I'll grant you that — I don't know what's going to happen. But if I should have kids in the future, they don't need the tainted fortunes of George Hanson, anyway."

She shook her head. "Don't let the sins of your father be visited upon your son." She smiled. Even though it was a small, sad smile, it was dazzling. "Or your daughter, as the case may eventually be."

Evan couldn't see that happening, and it made him uncomfortable to hear Helen say it, but he didn't argue the case. There was no point. "I'll take my chances," he said, then added half-heartedly, "So will my unborn children."

"Evan, please. Reconsider. Take just a little time. This isn't just about the business. It's about your family. Not your father, but your brothers. The whole family is fractured, and they can't heal without you. You're part of them."

He knew he should just walk away, but the woman's desperation intrigued him. Why should she care so much whether a man she'd never met before stayed or went? Surely her husband had told her what a good-for-nothing his middle son was.

"What are you asking me to do?" he asked her.

"I'd like you to stay," Helen said, her voice ringing with sincerity. "I know it probably sounds strange to you, since we don't know each other, but I've got a good feeling about you. I'd like to have your help — actually, Evan, I need your help — in returning Hanson Media Group to its former glory."

He hadn't seen that one coming. If she hadn't looked so completely earnest, he would have laughed. Instead, he just asked the logical question. "Why me? You've got the whole team on your side." He gestured toward the conference room. "Every one of them has more experience with the company than I do."