lust better than the average man
and it didn’t hurt that he knew she wanted him as badly as he did
her. Just the thought of her breathless moans when he’d traced his
mouth along the column of her neck made him hard.
Yet, she’d never mentioned their night together,
never referred to the steamy sexual satisfaction that he still had
dreams about a year and a half later.
At the thought, Mitchell thumped the start button on
the fax again.
Enough was enough. Somehow, he’d make her
acknowledge their very personal confrontation, either before or
after they’d repeated the pleasurable experience.
Then he’d get rid of her, somehow shake her loose
from The Cedars for good. Sex was one thing, business another. The
two didn’t have to interfere.
Behind him, the office door opened. Mitchell turned
to see the newcomer, recognizing Connie, Delanie’s assistant.
The quiet, dark-haired woman shut the door behind
her and, sending him a brief, polite smile, spoke to the secretary
behind the desk.
“Good morning, Pat. How are you today?”
“Fine,” chirped the secretary.
Pat, Mitchell thought, committing the name to
memory, as he turned back to his faxing.
“Delanie wanted to know if you’d found that invoice
she mentioned to you?”
“Oh, yes,” Pat said, sifting through the piles on
her desk and pulling free a piece of paper she then handed to the
other woman.
“Thanks.” Connie tucked the paper inside a folder
she carried.
“While you’re here,” Pat said. “Celia in
Housekeeping wanted me to find out if Delanie ordered those
bedspreads that needed replacing.”
“Those spreads shouldn’t have worn out so quickly,”
Connie said, her voice severe. “Del wants to go back to the
manufacturer and have them replaced at no cost.”
“So we’re waiting to see if they’ll do that?”
Mitchell turned away from the fax machine to see
Connie frown, shaking her head.
“No, not exactly. They weren’t made by the
manufacturer Delanie thought supplied them and she can’t remember
exactly where she got them.”
“Oh?” Pat said sympathetically, “I’d forget where I
left my children, if they’d let me.”
“Those bedspreads were a last minute purchase that
Delanie handled herself,” Connie said, still frowning. “It was
during the time just before her accident.”
Accident? Mitchell shifted away from the
noise of the fax machine to hear what Delanie’s assistant was
saying.
Delanie had been in an accident?
“… her memory around that time is
bad,” Connie continued, “but she’s having our office in Boston go
through the invoices for the job.”
“Good.” Pat nodded.
“Of course, we wouldn’t have to go to all that
trouble,” Connie declared in disgust, “if the laundry hadn’t
removed all the tags from the spreads.”
“Excuse me,” Mitchell interrupted unceremoniously.
“Your Delanie’s assistant, right?”
“Yes, sir. Connie Taylor. We met a few weeks
ago.”
“I remember,” he said.
“Delanie had some personal stuff to attend to this
morning,” her assistant said with a guarded expression. “She asked
me to come in and take care of a few things.”
Mitchell looked at the woman, only vaguely aware of
the secretary, Pat, leaving the office.
“Good, I’m sure you’re very capable,” he said
absently. “Did you say something just now about Ms. Carlyle having
had an accident?”
“No,” Connie said quickly, “not today. The accident
happened over a year ago.”
“Oh,” Mitchell said slowly. “A year ago?”
“A year and a half.” The dark-haired woman looked at
him gravely.
“That would have been around the time my grandfather
was re-opening The Cedars?” Mitchell prompted. Any information
might help him in getting rid of Delanie.
“Yes,” Connie said, her eyes still wary, “it
actually happened the weekend The Cedars reopened. That Sunday
morning.”
The morning he’d thrown her off the property, he realized. She’d acted upset as she ran
and it didn’t hurt that he knew she wanted him as badly as he did
her. Just the thought of her breathless moans when he’d traced his
mouth along the column of her neck made him hard.
Yet, she’d never mentioned their night together,
never referred to the steamy sexual satisfaction that he still had
dreams about a year and a half later.
At the thought, Mitchell thumped the start button on
the fax again.
Enough was enough. Somehow, he’d make her
acknowledge their very personal confrontation, either before or
after they’d repeated the pleasurable experience.
Then he’d get rid of her, somehow shake her loose
from The Cedars for good. Sex was one thing, business another. The
two didn’t have to interfere.
Behind him, the office door opened. Mitchell turned
to see the newcomer, recognizing Connie, Delanie’s assistant.
The quiet, dark-haired woman shut the door behind
her and, sending him a brief, polite smile, spoke to the secretary
behind the desk.
“Good morning, Pat. How are you today?”
“Fine,” chirped the secretary.
Pat, Mitchell thought, committing the name to
memory, as he turned back to his faxing.
“Delanie wanted to know if you’d found that invoice
she mentioned to you?”
“Oh, yes,” Pat said, sifting through the piles on
her desk and pulling free a piece of paper she then handed to the
other woman.
“Thanks.” Connie tucked the paper inside a folder
she carried.
“While you’re here,” Pat said. “Celia in
Housekeeping wanted me to find out if Delanie ordered those
bedspreads that needed replacing.”
“Those spreads shouldn’t have worn out so quickly,”
Connie said, her voice severe. “Del wants to go back to the
manufacturer and have them replaced at no cost.”
“So we’re waiting to see if they’ll do that?”
Mitchell turned away from the fax machine to see
Connie frown, shaking her head.
“No, not exactly. They weren’t made by the
manufacturer Delanie thought supplied them and she can’t remember
exactly where she got them.”
“Oh?” Pat said sympathetically, “I’d forget where I
left my children, if they’d let me.”
“Those bedspreads were a last minute purchase that
Delanie handled herself,” Connie said, still frowning. “It was
during the time just before her accident.”
Accident? Mitchell shifted away from the
noise of the fax machine to hear what Delanie’s assistant was
saying.
Delanie had been in an accident?
“… her memory around that time is
bad,” Connie continued, “but she’s having our office in Boston go
through the invoices for the job.”
“Good.” Pat nodded.
“Of course, we wouldn’t have to go to all that
trouble,” Connie declared in disgust, “if the laundry hadn’t
removed all the tags from the spreads.”
“Excuse me,” Mitchell interrupted unceremoniously.
“Your Delanie’s assistant, right?”
“Yes, sir. Connie Taylor. We met a few weeks
ago.”
“I remember,” he said.
“Delanie had some personal stuff to attend to this
morning,” her assistant said with a guarded expression. “She asked
me to come in and take care of a few things.”
Mitchell looked at the woman, only vaguely aware of
the secretary, Pat, leaving the office.
“Good, I’m sure you’re very capable,” he said
absently. “Did you say something just now about Ms. Carlyle having
had an accident?”
“No,” Connie said quickly, “not today. The accident
happened over a year ago.”
“Oh,” Mitchell said slowly. “A year ago?”
“A year and a half.” The dark-haired woman looked at
him gravely.
“That would have been around the time my grandfather
was re-opening The Cedars?” Mitchell prompted. Any information
might help him in getting rid of Delanie.
“Yes,” Connie said, her eyes still wary, “it
actually happened the weekend The Cedars reopened. That Sunday
morning.”
The morning he’d thrown her off the property, he realized. She’d acted upset as she ran
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