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Caitlyn Monroe knocked once, then entered the lion’s den.

She was prepared, like any good lion trainer, for what- ever might be waiting for her. A furious, chained beast looking for something to chew on? Probably.A pussycat? Not likely. In the three years she’d worked for Jefferson Lyon she’d learned that the man was much more likely to be snarly and aggressive than accommodating.

Jefferson was used to getting his own way. In fact, he accepted nothing less. Which was what made him both an amazingly successful businessman and a some- times pain-in-the-neck boss.

But this she was used to. Dealing with Jefferson’s de- mands was normal. And after the jolt she’d had over the weekend, she was ready for the normal. The everyday. The routine. She appreciated the fact that she knew Jef- ferson Lyon. Knew what to expect and wouldn’t be blindsided by something shattering coming out of no- where.

No, thanks, she thought. She’d had enough of that Saturday night.

Her boss looked up when she entered, and just for a minute, Caitlyn allowed herself to appreciate the view. Jefferson’s jaw was strong and square, his blue eyes piercing enough to see through any attempts at decep- tion and his tawny hair cut and styled to lay fashionably at his collar. A modern-day pirate with less conscience, when it came to business, than Bluebeard.

Most of the people who worked for him walked a wide berth around the magnate. Just the sound of him coming down the halls was