there was a widower who married a
proud and haughty woman as his second wife… By his first wife he’d had a
beautiful daughter, who was a girl of unparalleled goodness and sweet
temper.”—Cinderella
“Nobody’s that damn nice.”—Rowyn Jeong
“New assistant not working out?”
Rowyn glanced up from her computer and met the dark-brown
gaze of her coworker and friend Wanda Dixon.
“Hmm?” she asked, returning her attention to the report on
her monitor. A surge of satisfaction rose up in her chest as she studied the
budget. The second quarter numbers were right on target. She shifted her gaze
from the quarterly financial statement as Wanda entered the office and closed
the door behind her. “What did you say?”
Wanda shook her head and crossed the room. As she sank onto
the chair in front of the desk, the elegant fit of her lilac wraparound dress
caught Rowyn’s eye. The soft color complimented the woman’s smooth, brown skin
and the silk glided over her tall, lithe body. Rowyn tapped a fingertip against
her lip. That style might be just the thing they needed to complete the fall
collection for the store…
“I said, the new assistant must not be working out.”
Rowyn frowned as she picked up a pen and jotted down a note
about looking into that dress. “What are you talking about?”
“I just passed by your secretary of one week, her purse over
her shoulder and a cardboard box under one arm.” Wanda arched an eyebrow.
“Crying.”
“What the hell?” Rowyn demanded. “Did she say anything?”
“Yeah.” The other woman snorted. “‘That bitch is crazy.’“
“Funny,” Rowyn drawled. She dropped her pen on the desk and
fell back in her chair, irritated. “Well, damn. This is an inconvenient time to
quit. She could’ve at least waited until the end of the day. I have a
conference call at three and I needed her to take notes.” She reached for the
phone. “You think Human Resources will send up a temporary replacement?”
“Doubtful.” Wanda smirked. “After three—well four, counting
the one that just left—different assistants in seven months, you’ve earned a
bit of a reputation.”
“Reputation, my ass,” Rowyn growled and jabbed a finger in the
air toward Wanda. “All I asked her to do was rewrite a report and use fucking
spell-check and a dictionary next time. Excuse me if I offended her tender
sensibilities.” She sneered. “I’m not a total bitch—”
“Partial maybe, but definitely not total,” Wanda agreed.
“It’s not my fault that the last three—”
“Four, actually.”
“Assistants couldn’t stick around and grow some balls,”
Rowyn concluded with a glare.
Unperturbed, Wanda held up her hand, stretched her fingers
wide and pretended to study her immaculate manicure. “Maybe they could borrow a
couple from you. From what I hear, you have a very nice brass pair.” When Rowyn
flipped her off Wanda’s peal of laughter rang throughout the office. “Very
eloquent comeback, my friend.” She chuckled then slipped one slim leg over the
other, rested an elbow on her knee and settled her chin in her palm. “As much
as I enjoy commiserating over your employee—or lack of employee—issues, that
isn’t why I came by. I have tickets to the Poison concert tonight. And great
friend that I am, thought of you. So how ‘bout it? Want to go?”
“You’re kidding!” Her voice rose several octaves and she
didn’t care that she sounded like a teenager screeching over her favorite rock
band. Excitement swept Rowyn’s annoyance aside like a tornado winding through
an Alabama trailer park. Hell, given the chance, she would throw Bret Michaels her panties. “Of course I want—Oh damn. Damn. Damn.” She slapped the heel of her
palm against her forehead, punctuating each “damn” with a thump. “I can’t.”
Wanda’s eyes widened and her arm fell across her knee as she
leaned forward. “You can’t go see your favorite eighties hair band? Is
proud and haughty woman as his second wife… By his first wife he’d had a
beautiful daughter, who was a girl of unparalleled goodness and sweet
temper.”—Cinderella
“Nobody’s that damn nice.”—Rowyn Jeong
“New assistant not working out?”
Rowyn glanced up from her computer and met the dark-brown
gaze of her coworker and friend Wanda Dixon.
“Hmm?” she asked, returning her attention to the report on
her monitor. A surge of satisfaction rose up in her chest as she studied the
budget. The second quarter numbers were right on target. She shifted her gaze
from the quarterly financial statement as Wanda entered the office and closed
the door behind her. “What did you say?”
Wanda shook her head and crossed the room. As she sank onto
the chair in front of the desk, the elegant fit of her lilac wraparound dress
caught Rowyn’s eye. The soft color complimented the woman’s smooth, brown skin
and the silk glided over her tall, lithe body. Rowyn tapped a fingertip against
her lip. That style might be just the thing they needed to complete the fall
collection for the store…
“I said, the new assistant must not be working out.”
Rowyn frowned as she picked up a pen and jotted down a note
about looking into that dress. “What are you talking about?”
“I just passed by your secretary of one week, her purse over
her shoulder and a cardboard box under one arm.” Wanda arched an eyebrow.
“Crying.”
“What the hell?” Rowyn demanded. “Did she say anything?”
“Yeah.” The other woman snorted. “‘That bitch is crazy.’“
“Funny,” Rowyn drawled. She dropped her pen on the desk and
fell back in her chair, irritated. “Well, damn. This is an inconvenient time to
quit. She could’ve at least waited until the end of the day. I have a
conference call at three and I needed her to take notes.” She reached for the
phone. “You think Human Resources will send up a temporary replacement?”
“Doubtful.” Wanda smirked. “After three—well four, counting
the one that just left—different assistants in seven months, you’ve earned a
bit of a reputation.”
“Reputation, my ass,” Rowyn growled and jabbed a finger in the
air toward Wanda. “All I asked her to do was rewrite a report and use fucking
spell-check and a dictionary next time. Excuse me if I offended her tender
sensibilities.” She sneered. “I’m not a total bitch—”
“Partial maybe, but definitely not total,” Wanda agreed.
“It’s not my fault that the last three—”
“Four, actually.”
“Assistants couldn’t stick around and grow some balls,”
Rowyn concluded with a glare.
Unperturbed, Wanda held up her hand, stretched her fingers
wide and pretended to study her immaculate manicure. “Maybe they could borrow a
couple from you. From what I hear, you have a very nice brass pair.” When Rowyn
flipped her off Wanda’s peal of laughter rang throughout the office. “Very
eloquent comeback, my friend.” She chuckled then slipped one slim leg over the
other, rested an elbow on her knee and settled her chin in her palm. “As much
as I enjoy commiserating over your employee—or lack of employee—issues, that
isn’t why I came by. I have tickets to the Poison concert tonight. And great
friend that I am, thought of you. So how ‘bout it? Want to go?”
“You’re kidding!” Her voice rose several octaves and she
didn’t care that she sounded like a teenager screeching over her favorite rock
band. Excitement swept Rowyn’s annoyance aside like a tornado winding through
an Alabama trailer park. Hell, given the chance, she would throw Bret Michaels her panties. “Of course I want—Oh damn. Damn. Damn.” She slapped the heel of her
palm against her forehead, punctuating each “damn” with a thump. “I can’t.”
Wanda’s eyes widened and her arm fell across her knee as she
leaned forward. “You can’t go see your favorite eighties hair band? Is
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