by Kara Lennox
He looked down at his crookedly fastened shirt and she slipped out and slammed the door.
* * *
ELENA LOOKED PUZZLED by Jillian’s presence at the front door of Daniel’s home. “I thought the meeting wasn’t until three.”
“It’s not. I should have warned you I was coming early. I need to speak to Daniel before Conner gets here.”
Elena gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Come in. Jillian, no offense, but you look just awful. I mean, every time I’ve seen you you’ve always been so composed, never a hair out of place, and right now you look like you’ve been tumbled in a clothes dryer.”
Jillian stepped inside the marble foyer with its soothing sound of running water from the fountain, and she looked down at herself self-consciously. She was a wrinkled mess. She hadn’t bothered to check her appearance before fleeing Mayall Lumber.
“I guess I’m pretty upset.” Not many women could outdo Jillian in the grooming department, but Elena was one of them. The statuesque brunette, with her exotic features and designer wardrobe, always looked like she’d walked out of a Calvin Klein ad. Jillian’s sense of style was downright frivolous compared to Elena’s understated sophistication.
“Daniel is exercising his horse, but he should be back soon,” Elena said. “Have you had lunch? I can get you a sandwich or a glass of milk or something.”
The thought of food turned her stomach, but Jillian knew she should eat something. She had the shakes. “Do you have any yogurt?”
“Of course. The powder room is—” Elena laughed. “How silly, you know where everything is. Why don’t you freshen up and meet me on the sunporch? Meanwhile, I’ll call down to the stable and let Daniel know you’re here.”
“Thanks, Elena.” It was easy to see why Daniel had hired the woman. She had a calming effect. She was efficient and gracious without making everyone around her feel as though they were in the army—which was what everyone said about Jillian.
While working for Daniel, Jillian had never gone anywhere without her clipboard. She had viewed managing Daniel’s many needs and commitments the way a general regarded a complicated military campaign. She envied Elena her easy confidence.
When Jillian looked in the mirror, she scared herself. Easy to see why Elena had been concerned. She washed her face and quickly reapplied her makeup, then combed her hair and straightened her clothes. One of her earrings was missing—where had that gone to? Probably lost between the cushions of Conner’s office sofa.
When she felt reasonably put back together she made her way to the sunporch, where she found a dish of plain yogurt—served in crystal, no less—along with several dishes of fresh fruit. She had her choice of raspberries, blueberries, peaches, as well as honey and chopped walnuts.
Ah, she missed this place sometimes. She normally had to make do with a carton from the supermarket.
Elena was in the corner, on the phone, speaking softly. She finished her conversation and claimed a chair opposite Jillian, where a mug of tea sat steeping.
Another mug, a selection of gourmet teas and a pot of hot water stood by for Jillian, in case she wanted tea, too. She was impressed with Elena’s attention to detail.
“Are you okay?” Elena asked. “Really?”
“Secretly I thought I couldn’t be replaced,” Jillian said. “But you’re good.”
“Make no mistake, you were a hard act to follow,” Elena said with a laugh. “If I had a nickel for every time someone around here said, ‘Jillian did it this way,’ I could retire.”
That made Jillian feel only slightly better.
“Daniel will be done with his ride in about fifteen minutes. He said you can meet him at the stable. Take one of the golf carts.”
“Thanks.” Jillian forced herself to eat some of the yogurt. “Mmm, this is really good.”
“It’s just yogurt, hardly comfort food. Sure you don’t want some French silk pie? Lemon pound cake? Maybe rocky road brownies?
Jillian’s mouth watered. “You have all that just sitting around?”
“When Cora gets bored, she bakes. Anyway, you know Daniel. He always likes to have plenty of choices available for guests and staff. It’s a miracle we aren’t all trying out for The Biggest Loser.”
Jillian well remembered how hard she’d had to fight temptation here, though there were always healthy choices available, too.
She pushed the yogurt away. “What the hell, my life as I know it is over. Might as well have a last meal. Bring on that French silk pie.”
Elena smiled. “That’s the spirit. I’ll even join you.”
Thick slices of the pie with fresh whipped cream arrived almost instantaneously. Jillian had to force herself not to gobble it down; she savored every sinful bite and refused to think about what part of her anatomy the fat might settle on.
This was how she’d turned into a pudgy teenager to begin with; in the absence of attention from the boy she was crazy about, food was her comfort. Here she was, allowing Conner’s behavior to nudge her toward sweets.
No, she wasn’t going to blame him. This fiasco was all her doing. And if the situation didn’t call for an indulgence, what did?
When she’d all but licked the plate, she stood and smoothed her clothes, then quickly reapplied lipstick. “I better get this over with.”
“Good luck.”
A golf cart was waiting for Jillian in the driveway.
She set out for the stables, cruising across the green carpet of lawn and appreciating the beauty of Daniel’s estate all over again. She missed her safe, secure existence, nestled in this cocoon of opulence. But she could never come back here.
Anyway, Jillian needed to learn how to function in the real world. So far, she’d been a spectacular failure.
When she reached the huge, climate-controlled stable, Daniel was just arriving with his favorite mount, Laramie, a lovely chestnut polo pony. Daniel loved polo and probably could have played professionally if he hadn’t had so many other agendas to accomplish.
“Good workout?” Jillian asked as Daniel gracefully dismounted.
“We had a good ride, didn’t we, boy?” He stroked the gelding’s neck while Jillian offered him a few blueberries she’d pilfered from her lunch.
Luis, one of the grooms, stood by to take the horse, but Daniel waved him off. “I’ll take care of him today, thanks.” He addressed Jillian. “Walk with me while I cool him down.”
They walked to an exercise ring, where Daniel led the horse around the perimeter. The gelding followed, docile as a lapdog, and Jillian picked her way daintily through the dirt in her high heels, grateful someone had recently raked up all the manure.
“So, what’s the story?”
“I messed up. Big-time.”
“Start from the beginning.”
“I sort of planted a listening device in Conner’s office.”
“Jillian, really?” He didn’t sound quite as mad as she thought he ought to be. More like intrigued.
“I was anxious to produce results. I wanted to do a good job.”
“Where did you get a— Never mind. I know.”
Great. Now she was going to get Celeste in trouble, too.
“Anyone can buy one from The Spy Store,” she said, which was the truth. “Conner never should have spotted the bug, but he had a…um, an unusual vantage point.”
“Meaning…”
“He was lying on the sofa in his office. With me.” She had to get the whole truth out, because she didn’t want Conner revealing any surprises.
“Jillian. Damn.”
“Yes, I slept with a murder suspect. But in all honesty, Daniel, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Conner isn’t the murderer. Of course that doesn’t excuse my behavior.”
Daniel said nothing.
“Please, yell at me or something. Fire me, whatever, just get it over with.” That slice of French silk pie sat heavy in her stomach now, and she wished she’d stuck with the yogurt.
“Wh
y did you sleep with him? Was it for the sake of the investigation? Because that might be taking your work ethic a bit too seriously.”
“I don’t know why I had sex with him. But it wasn’t because I thought it was my job. Honestly, if I’d given my responsibilities more than half a thought, I’d never have done it. But I wasn’t thinking at all. I just went all adolescent-schoolgirl-crush.”
There, she’d told him the worst.
“I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed.”
“Of course you are. I did something colossally stupid.”
“Yes, you did.”
Wow, that stung. Daniel wasn’t pulling his punches. Even the horse huffed in disapproval. The back of her throat tightened, and for one horrifying moment she thought she might start crying. But amazingly, she didn’t. She held it together.
“Enough beating yourself up, okay? The important thing is, did you learn something?”
“I’ve learned I’m incapable of having a grown-up relationship with a man. I won’t go near another one as long as I live.”
Daniel had the audacity to laugh. “That’s a bit extreme. How about, no more men you work with. Or for.”
“That would be a start, I guess.” Jillian couldn’t help the bitter note that crept into her voice.
Daniel walked Laramie into the stable, where the horse found his own stall and entered. Daniel got the gelding a can of oats to munch on, then started rubbing him down.
Jillian, who had a healthy respect for horses, even friendly ones like Laramie, stood outside the stall and leaned against the top of the door, resting her chin on her folded arms.
“Are you going to fire me?” she asked. In a way, that would be the easiest thing for her. She could just walk away, never have to lay eyes on Conner Blake again.
“Not unless you insist. It took too long to get you inside the company.”
“For all the good it’s done.”
“Give it a rest, Jillian. You made a mistake. Everybody does. It’s not the end of the world.”
Okay. Okay, she had to stop feeling sorry for herself. Daniel would know the best way to proceed. “It may be a moot point. I’m not sure Conner will want me working for him anymore.”
“Don’t go borrowing trouble. I’ve got a little surprise in store for Mr. Conner Blake. Let’s just see what he has to say.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CONNER WAS GRATEFUL FOR the time it took to drive to River Oaks, the area of Houston where the wealthiest of the wealthy resided. He’d at least cooled off a little. If he was going to face one of the richest, most influential men in the country, he wanted to do it with calm deliberation.
As he pulled up to the scrolled iron gates, he issued a low whistle. He’d grown up privileged, to be sure, but the Bellaire home his parents owned hadn’t held a candle to this pile of rocks. His family had socialized with the Baxters, and the Baxters were friends with the Logans, but that was as close as Daniel had ever gotten to the high-and-mighty oil family.
He’d heard about this place, though. When Daniel Logan had gone on trial for murder, every detail of the Logan family’s existence had been up for grabs with the press—including descriptions of the lavish mansion, which looked more like an ancient English manor house than something belonging in Houston.
It definitely did not disappoint.
Conner was about to push the intercom button and announce himself, but the gates whispered open, and he found himself cruising down a cobbled drive and trying not to gawk at the vast, manicured lawn and urns as big as his car filled with fall-blooming plants. It must have taken an army of gardeners to keep this place up.
The drive ended in a circle surrounding a fountain worthy of ancient Rome; another car was already parked there. Jillian’s? It irked him slightly that she’d beat him here. As he parked behind it and got out, Conner had to clench his teeth so his jaw wouldn’t continually drop. He’d imagined himself coming here and giving Daniel Logan a piece of his mind for snooping into his life with his pretty little spy minion. But confronting a man with this much wealth and power shouldn’t be done on the fly. Logan was personal friends with the governor. Conner had no doubt the man could bury him if he chose, though by most counts Daniel was a fair and reasonable man, if a tad eccentric.
Conner’s finger was poised above the doorbell when the huge oak door opened. Obviously he was being watched.
A beautiful woman with long dark hair stood on the other side of the door, wearing an expensive tailored suit and a frown. “Come in, Mr. Blake. The others are in the library. Follow me, please. Can I get you something to drink? There’s water in the library, but if you’d like juice or a soft drink—”
“Water is fine.”
She led him down a hallway lined with what appeared to be museum-quality paintings, stopping at a closed door and tapping softly before opening it.
“Mr. Blake is here.”
“Good, bring him in.” The voice belonged to Daniel Logan. He sounded even more formidable than he had on the phone.
Conner squared his shoulders and entered the room, a pleasant, casual sort of den with a bar at one end, a huge stone fireplace in the center, and floor-to-ceiling books. An antique library table had been set up for a meeting. After taking in the room, Conner allowed his gaze to settle on the table. Burled walnut, the kind you couldn’t find anymore. Daniel Logan, younger than Conner would have imagined and very fit, stood and held out his hand.
“Conner, thank you for coming.”
“I believe I’m the one who insisted on this meeting.”
“I’d have had my say with you one way or another,” Daniel said affably.
Conner allowed his gaze to drift to the other occupants of the room. Jillian was there, looking small and pale, her ivory complexion drained of all color, her mouth stiff and her hands folded on the table in front of her.
His heart squeezed painfully. Mere hours ago, she’d been warm and wild in his arms, making love to him with crazy abandon. Now she looked terrified.
He’d done that to her. He had no reason to feel guilty—he was the wronged party here. But he felt guilty just the same.
Finally Conner let himself take in the other person seated at the table, a frail old man in a wheelchair. It took Conner several heartbeats to recognize that the man was Stan Mayall.
“Stan? What— How—”
“Why aren’t I in jail? They let me out for chemo. Just so happens Daniel here arranged for my treatment to take place here.” He had an IV in his arm and a bag of some clear liquid dripping into his vein.
Amazing what enough money could accomplish. Which reminded him…the Logan Charitable Trust donated significant funds to preserving rain forest habitats around the globe. He did not want to make an enemy of Daniel Logan.
Conner felt an unexpected rush of affection for the elderly man.
“How do you feel?”
“Not so bad. My doc thinks the chemo is working. So don’t write me off yet. Keep an eye on Hamilton. Don’t let him get too comfortable running the show.” Stan’s eyes gleamed with humor. No one thought Hamilton was comfortable as acting CEO. In his mind he was already fly-fishing in Montana. He couldn’t wait to retire.
“Sit down, please,” Daniel said, taking his own chair. He seemed eager to start the meeting.
Conner sat stiffly. “So, Stan, I take it you had something to do with my administrative assistant spying on me?”
“Oh, get off your high horse,” Stan said. “If I didn’t trust you, I never would have let you marry my granddaughter. I wasn’t the one who contacted Project Justice. That was Payne’s doing.”
“Hamilton Payne?” Conner said, just to be sure. “He thinks I had something to do with the murder?”
“Simmer down, would you?” Despite his current state of debilitation, Stan still had a commanding presence. Conner shut his mouth and allowed him to explain. “You weren’t the target of the investigation. It just so happened there was a vacancy near you where Jil
lian here could be placed without suspicion, and whose fault is that? You’re the one who can’t keep an assistant.”
Conner nodded. Point taken.
“I selected Jillian for this assignment,” Logan said, “because she had the necessary clerical skills, the business knowledge and the polish to carry off the job of assisting a busy executive. But she’s new to investigating, and she did overstep her authority by placing a listening device in your office without authorization. Since she was reporting to me, I’ll accept the mistake as my own, and I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t, because she’s fired.” And when everyone else at the table just stared at him, he felt the urge to justify his decision. “She deceived me, she invaded my privacy, and I won’t have her working for me.”
“Damn it, boy,” Stan said in a surprisingly strong voice. Conner knew he must be on Stan’s shit list for him to use the word boy. That was how Stan had addressed him the first six months they’d known each other—until he’d gained the older man’s trust. “You act like the girl paid you a personal insult. She was just a little overzealous. She wants to find Greg’s killer just like you and I do. I don’t know what your beef is, unless you’re being defensive because you have something to hide.”
Oh, now, that was a low blow. Stan knew damn well Conner had had nothing to do with Greg’s death.
“He has a right to be angry,” Jillian said.
“On the contrary,” Conner said, “I believe Jillian’s actions were personal. She has an ax to grind with me. We have a previous…relationship…” Uh-oh. He’d better step very carefully or this was going to blow up in his face. Daniel and Stan were looking at him as if they believed he’d deflowered and abandoned her.
“Not that kind of relationship,” he quickly clarified. “I knew her when we were kids. I pulled a childish prank on her and she’s been mad about it ever since.”
“What kind of prank?” Stan asked. “It must have been pretty serious for you to believe she would carry a grudge for so long.”