"He traveled a lot with the military?"
Ian nodded. "And after. My uncle pretty much raised us kids. Good old Dad packed us all off to boarding school after my mother died. Holidays were nearly always spent with my uncle's family."
"I'm sorry," she murmured.
She couldn't imagine being without a close family. Without her mother, in particular. Yet here she was, intentionally separating herself from those she loved and who loved her. Strange, she thought, because she really did value them. But something deep inside her drove her to seek a life of her own.
"That must have been rough, being without your parents."
He shrugged, but his eyes had dimmed with pain. "All in the past now."
But is it, Ian? she thought.
"Besides, we had some great times—my brothers, sister and our cousins. To this day, when we all get together, we're like one big, loud family." He smiled, as if to demonstrate how okay he was with the past.
"Good," she said, deciding she would say nothing more on the topic. Let him keep that cheerful image. Even though she knew it was a poor substitute for the bond he'd sought but never found with his own father.
* * *
As soon as they were back in the office, Ian left Katie to type up her notes. He walked down two floors to Personnel. Holly looked up and smiled when he stepped through the open door to her office.
"Well, how's she working out, Ian?"
"Mixed reviews."
She looked surprised. "You don't like Katie? She seemed very personable, and smart, too."
"It's not that." He dug for a reasonable-sounding excuse. "I think she's overqualified for the job."
Holly leveled gray eyes at him. "A lot of college grads temp for a while, to feel their way into the work force."
"I know that." He raked fingers through his hair and paced in front of her desk. He couldn't explain the desperate need he felt to put space between himself and Katie. "Maybe it's just a personality clash. She doesn't act like … like an employee. She changes my requests and does things her own way. She even handed out advice to my father over lunch today!"
Holly laughed. "Wish I'd seen that."
He couldn't help the smile that teased his lips. "It was something to behold. What else do you know about her?"
"Aside from what's on the copy of the application I gave you?"
"Right." He propped both hands on her desk and leaned over the file she pulled in front of her from one corner of her desk.
Holly flipped pages. "Nothing of special interest. Graduated with a bachelor's degree in English. Worked a few summers for a construction company as a girl Friday, then as an occasional fill-in receptionist."
"Where?"
"Arizona, looks like." She scanned the form. "The temp agency might have more information on her."
"Nothing on her family? Where she grew up?"
She frowned up at him. "Why would you want to know that?"
"I don't know. It's just that something about her isn't right. It's been bothering me since yesterday. She doesn't act like a wet-behind-the-ears college grad from some hole-in-the-wall southwestern town. She's too poised, too sure of herself."
"You mean, you don't like that she doesn't jump when you say boo?"
Ian gave her a nasty look. "Do you have a sister, Holly? And is she sitting in my office at this very minute?"
She grinned. "Thank goodness you have a sense of humor or I would have lost my job long ago."
"Not a chance." He straightened up with a sigh. "You're too good at what you do for us to ever let you go."
She closed the folder on her desk and tapped it thoughtfully. "Tell you what, if you're really uncomfortable with Miss O'Brien, I'll step up our efforts to find you a permanent EA. That way, if we tell the temp agency her services are no longer needed, it won't reflect badly on her. We contracted to keep her for a month or less, dependent upon our filling the position."
"Good," he said. "The sooner she's out of here the better."
But even as he said those words, he doubted them. Yes, she was annoying. Yes, she was difficult and made him restless in ways he couldn't understand. But she also challenged him, set him to thinking in new directions, with fresh energy.
Worst—or best—of all … she was damn good to look at. Maybe too good.
But all of that aside, there was something mysterious about Katie O'Brien. Something that deeply worried him even though he couldn't put his finger on what it was.
She would be trouble somewhere down the road, of that he was sure. She was a loose cannon aimed straight at his company and family. Her behavior at lunch today had proved at least that much. The Danforths had enough trouble without her making it worse.
* * *
Four
« ^ »
Cursing softly, Ian hung up the phone, hit the interoffice pager and pushed himself back from the polished ebony desk so large the delivery team had had to disassemble it to get it through his office door. He told himself to breathe. He focused on the smoky glass pane overlooking the Historic District pulsing with spring activity, willing away his black mood.
Delicate, creamy camellias and vivid crimson, pink, and lavender azaleas bloomed in profusion in a wash of Monet-like hues along the streets. Through the nearby park he could see Spanish moss lazily draping live oaks that had been around before he was born. Magnolia and sassafras trees reached gracefully for the sky. Traffic that roared and screeched in other cities merely hummed here. Cars were barred from some streets altogether and speeds were kept low on others to avoid the occasional fringe-topped carriage pulled by the original horse power. A golden sun radiated goodwill in an azure Southern sky.
Life could be good … would be good again, he reminded himself. Someday.
"Sir?"
He looked up to see Katie poke her head anxiously around the comer in response to his buzzing her. "What did I do now?"
She was still with him after a week. Personnel had failed to find an executive assistant that suited him. It wasn't that Holly hadn't tried. She'd sent three candidates up to him for interviews after she'd screened dozens of others. None of them had seemed right to him.
He wondered if he was unconsciously seeing faults in the candidates that didn't exist. Yet he'd been so sure he wanted Katie out from underfoot. She was turning his world upside down.
She made it impossible for him to concentrate on important decisions. He was always too aware of her body—the way she settled one hip lower than the other when she was retrieving a file for him. The way she sat, so very straight, which tended to emphasize her small, nicely shaped breasts. The way she ran the tip of her tongue along her top lip as she took notes.
How was a man supposed to concentrate? He'd never had this problem with clerical help before!
"It's nothing to do with you, Katie. This time." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
She let out a long, laborious sigh he half expected was for show. "That's a relief."
But when he looked up to find a decidedly guilty look on her face he wondered what she'd done that he hadn't yet discovered. Three days ago, she had rearranged every stick of furniture in his office … all by herself. Even the massive desk. She'd shown him the plastic slider contraptions, like little sleds, she'd used under the furniture legs. Katie told him the arrangement was now much more feng shui.
And just yesterday she'd brought him an English muffin with jam instead of his usual bagel and cream cheese with his coffee. Less fattening, she'd claimed. As if what he put in his body was her business! Who knew what she'd dream up next.
"Did you call me for a reason?"
"Yes." He stood up and paced the carpet, vaguely remembering an old game he'd played with his cousins … stepping only on the Aubusson's flowers, avoiding the leaves. Fell in the drink! they'd all shout when one of them slipped. Why was he thinking of silly childhood games now? "Maybe there's something you can help me with."
"Really?"
He
winced at her exuberance. He'd pretty much avoided giving her anything important to do for him because she seemed compelled to tackle every task in a dangerously creative way.
"Yes. Come in and sit down." He waved her to a chair, then found his gaze locked on her long legs as she crossed the room. She wasn't a tall woman, but she gave the impression of height because she possessed a slim torso and limbs that seemed breathtakingly endless. He looked away. "I'm in rather a jam."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Tonight at Twin Oaks, my father's country club, there will be a banquet to benefit the homeless of Savannah and the surrounding region. It's been planned for months. My attending … well, the entire family making an appearance is crucial to my father's campaign. Nicola feels that a show of solidarity is in order, and I agree."
"So?" Katie crossed her legs. His heart stopped.
"So—" He cleared his throat and turned toward the window, away from the accidental glimpse he'd gotten of the little wedge of shadow between her thighs. But he broke a sweat. "So, my date for the evening has just called and canceled."
There was a long pause that forced him to turn back to her. She was frowning up at him as she tugged at the hem of her skirt. The same straight, black cotton skirt she'd worn nearly every day.
"Are you asking me to go with you? To be your date?"
He laughed nervously. This was a bad idea, he thought belatedly. "Well, not so much date as escort, you see—to round out the table."
Her eyes darkened to the deepest jade, and he sensed a storm coming on though he felt helpless to predict the reason.
She said, "This is a formal sort of bash?"
He hesitated, cautious. "Yes."
She pursed her lips. "And you'll be wearing—?"
"A tux," he supplied impatiently. "Look, can you come with me or not?" He tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, it's a free meal."
She stood up and took three long-legged, unconsciously sultry strides directly toward him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leveled him with a solemn gaze. "You have enormous nerve, Mr. Danforth."
He staggered backward. "All I did was ask you to accompany me to a very respectable party!"
"Men!" she huffed, her eyes glowing, cheeks afire. "Men like you with money and important positions, you think you can run everyone's life."
Now where was this coming from? Clearly, his invitation wasn't the real reason for this emotional outburst. Who had set her on edge this way?
He tried a conciliatory smile on her. "Ms. O'Brien, I didn't intend to offend. I just thought you might enjoy—"
"You thought I might like tagging along after you in your spiffy designer tux, me in my thrift-store polyester. Is that it?"
He was astonished. "I'm sorry. I guess I don't quite understand."
"Of course you don't." She flashed him a look of extreme annoyance. "How can you ask one of your employees to dress for society on what you pay them?"
"Technically, I don't pay you at all," he said. "The temp agency pays you."
She waved this off, lifted a finger and aimed it at his chest like a pistol. "Which is even less than your full-time clerical, I've checked. That's not the point. You expect a woman earning two dollars over minimum wage to shell out a couple thousand for a gown to wear for one night?"
He didn't stop to think where she might have shopped to see four-figure price tags. He was too busy with his defense. "That doesn't seem fair," he admitted. "I'm sorry. Really, Katie. Forgive me. Forget I ever asked."
She blinked at him then let her eyes drift down to the carpet and ran a toe across a peony. "No big deal." Instant meekness. "How much are they getting a plate?"
"A thousand."
"Pretty good. I hope they raise a lot of money. No one should be without a home." She started out of his office, then seemed to have second thoughts. "And I hope you find someone who can afford to go with you."
Before she could reach the door to the outer office, he came up behind her.
"Wait." He touched her shoulder.
When she turned and looked up at him, a river of heat flowed through his body. It was so unexpected, so unwanted, yet potent and paralyzingly real, he couldn't speak for several seconds.
"Yes, sir?"
"I … wait just a minute, will you? Let me make a quick call."
Ten minutes later he was off the phone, having booked an appointment at the poshest dress salon in the city, took Katie by the arm and was guiding her toward the elevator.
"This is ridiculous," she moaned.
"It's all for a good cause," he responded. "I'm buying."
Besides, the idea of Katie in a clingy strapless number was definitely an intriguing one—and not to be missed, whatever the cost.
* * *
Katie strolled into Twin Oaks ballroom on Ian's arm and looked around nervously. It wasn't as if appearing at a party attended by hundreds of the socially elite was new to her. What terrified her were the photographers wending their way through the glittering crowd. All it would take was one wire-service photo that made its way back to Arizona, and she'd be found out. A change in hair color and style wouldn't be enough to fool her family.
She kept her head down as Ian led her across the room, past a young man wielding a digital camera.
"What's wrong?" Ian asked.
"Nothing, I just don't feel right without my glasses. I shouldn't have left them at home." They were sort of hokey as disguises went, but she felt more exposed without them.
"You said you could see fine without them. Just for reading, right?"
"Yes, but—"
"You look great without them," he whispered so close to her ear it made her shiver. "I'm surprised you didn't switch to contacts years ago."
She shrugged. If he ever looked at the lenses, he'd see they were clear glass.
"And the dress is stunning," he added.
Her gown did seem to be attracting attention among the guests. She'd chosen a gorgeous red georgette, ankle-length dress with spaghetti straps. As backless as a dress could be without flaunting the law. The owner of the salon where Ian had taken her insisted that the right red with her auburn hair would be magnificent. Apparently the man knew his colors. Every head turned as they passed.
"Thank you for the compliment," she said, meaning it, "and for the lovely dress. I do like it." Although now, under the lingering gaze of hundreds of eyes, she wondered if she should have selected something more subtle. But how could any woman pass up the perfect red dress?
"Good. It suits you."
She sensed he was holding back, keeping his comments relatively impersonal. Perhaps feeling awkward about their relationship now that it had wandered, albeit for practical reasons, outside of the office.
"Tell me what I'm supposed to do, other than smile and eat," she said.
"That's about it. I'll introduce you to the family. We have two tables reserved. My father will make a statement regarding our responsibility as citizens to care for our own—the homeless, those without jobs, children in need of support outside of their families. All good causes the Danforths have always championed."
She looked up at him. His expression was solemn, and genuine sadness touched his words. She believed he really did feel for the less fortunate.
Katie had been raised with the same ideals. She was proud of the Fortunes' contributions to society. "Then your father wants voters to know he's committed to solving the homeless problem?"
Ian nodded firmly. "That's why we're here."
From that moment on, she made spreading the word on Abraham's dedication her mission for the evening.
The speakers were thankfully brief. Abraham Danforth's simple but eloquent plea to the elite of Savannah rang with the generosity of a great man. Katie was impressed, and she could see in Ian's eyes an appreciation for his father, as if he, too, was learning about the man like the others in the room.
The food was delicious and nearly worth the price of a seat at the beautifully decorated tables. After dinner ever
yone was on their feet, mixing, chatting, milling about. Katie moved with Ian through the room, greeting people. When the topic of conversation threatened to turn to the Danforths' recent troubles, Katie deftly steered the group back toward the reason for the gala.
"Where did you learn to be such a diplomat?" Ian whispered as he took her hand and drew her into a corner away from the crowd and the orchestra. The hour was growing late, but she still felt fresh and excited.
Hadn't her parents and grandparents hosted fund-raisers all of her life? Hadn't she been groomed to the social life? But she couldn't tell Ian that. She came up with a half-truth.
"With two bossy brothers, you learn to make peace or get clobbered."
He laughed. "I can't believe your parents would have actually allowed them to hit you."
"Oh, they wouldn't. My brothers learned early that so much as raising a hand to a girl was forbidden and resulted in swift punishment. But they found other ways to make my life miserable."
"Are they all still in Arizona?"
The question took her by surprise. "I … well, yes, my brothers never left."
"I'd like to meet the O'Brien boys someday," he said, with a rare smile. "What are their names?"
This was verging on dangerous territory. She didn't want to lie to Ian, but she was already caught up in her own deception, and there seemed no easy way out of it.
A shift in the crowd opened her view of the room. Abraham was walking past a couple of tables near the rear when a man reached out and stopped him with a tug on his sleeve. There was something demanding, almost threatening in the gesture. He was smiling tightly, speaking to Abraham, and she felt Ian's father tense from clear across the room.
"Who is that?" she asked.
Ian followed her gaze. "Talking to my father?"
"Yes. Him and the guy seated beside him." Ian's eyes narrowed as he studied the scene. "How did they get in here?" he muttered.
"Who?"
"Jaime Hernandez is a Colombian coffee supplier. The man with his hand on Dad's arm is Ernesto Escalante. He's been trying to pressure me into buying from Hernandez."
The Boss Man's Fortune Page 4