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Marry in Haste
Heather Allison


Whirlwind WeddingsMarrying the boss…Parker Laird loves money, business and power–in that order. His brother Jay just loves women: blondes, brunettes, redheads…. Every week Jay seems to be professing his undying love for a different girl. But this time Jay's fallen for Parker's secretary, Abby. Even a self-obsessed oil tycoon like Parker can see the attraction. His new assistant is helpful, friendly, efficient and has great legs! But Parker will do anything to keep Jay's mind on the business and off his secretary in the office…even if that means marrying her himself!Who says you can't hurry love?Heather Allison also writes as Heather MacAllister for Harlequin Temptation. Of Bedded Bliss (Harlequin Temptation): "With spicy dialogue, great characters and crazy mischief, you will totally enjoy this romance!"–Affaire de Coeur







Letter to Reader (#u48f5c482-082f-523a-bf06-8854e023700b)Title Page (#u4b593dec-2a9d-5740-98f9-59c447fe1c3e)Dedication (#ud24b5000-70d1-5354-b254-5b8f2c16ce30)CHAPTER ONE (#ue3a4991a-298f-57ef-b80b-5daa6f8cc375)CHAPTER TWO (#ud39f871f-cc44-52b5-9f3d-ba5f2f553e0e)CHAPTER THREE (#u6c79c038-d921-563a-8534-d42a045b9e38)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Parker kissed her as though he’d been dying of thirst and she was a pool of cold springwater.

How could he have fooled so many people for so long? Hadn’t anyone bothered to get to know the man—this caring, passionate man?

Only Abby had found the true Parker. She was in love with him.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. He was supposed to be dazzling her, not kissing her, but Parker couldn’t help himself.

He wasn’t used to having his feelings overrule his head. People who were ruled by their emotions got into trouble. His brother Jay was a perfect example. But with any luck, Jay had already forgotten about a certain temporary executive assistant.

Now all Parker had to do was to see that a certain temporary executive assistant forgot all about Jay.







Dear Reader,

This is a brand-new miniseries about matrimony, featuring strong, irresistible heroes, feisty heroines and four marriages made not so much in heaven as in a hurry!

When the authors came up with the idea for WHIRLWIND WEDDINGS we gave them just one stipulation: their heroes and heroines had to meet and many within a week! Mission impossible? Well, a lot can happen in seven days....

Heather Allison says: “My wedding was anything but whirlwind. After five years of dating, I married my high school sweetheart on the Fourth of July in Houston, Texas. I still can’t believe my mother didn’t talk me out of an outdoor reception. It was July, for pity’s sake! Even the cake was sweating. But when we saw the fireworks display, we forgot all about the heat, humidity and mosquitoes—we must have, because every year we’re right back outside watching for fireworks on the Fourth.”




Marry in Haste

Heather Allison







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


In memory of Megan Alyssa Fox, who is only gone from our sight.


CHAPTER ONE

“ABIGAIL? Could you come into my office?”

Slipping her feet into her pumps, Abby Monroe stood and smoothed the skirt of her suit. Pausing to pick up the notebook and pen she always kept ready on her desk, she walked across the plush terracotta and jade diamond-patterned carpet and into the office of the Executive Assistant to Parker Laird, of Laird Drilling and Exploration.

Abby loved the carpet, with its deep pile and thick pad that put a spring into her step. In fact, she loved everything about working on the twenty-sixth floor of the Laird building.

As she’d climbed the corporate ladder during the past four years, Abby had discovered that the more important the person she worked for, the higher the floor and the thicker the carpet.

This was the top floor and the carpet was so thick, if it were any thicker, the doors wouldn’t slide over it.

Even the atmosphere was different than it was on the lower floors. This was the nerve center of the whole company and power hummed through the air, generated by Parker Laird, himself.

Valerie Chippin, the Executive Assistant and Abby’s boss as of five weeks ago, closed the door and waved Abby over to the sitting area by the corner windows.

This was unusual. Abby hadn’t ever been invited to sit on the jade leather chairs and love seat before. As she followed Valerie, Abby admired the view from the spacious corner office.

Someday, she would have an office like this, with all of Houston, Texas—or someplace else—at her feet.

But that was some other day and not today.

She sat in the chair across from Valerie and crossed her feet at the ankles.

“I’ve been very pleased with your work the past several weeks,” Valerie began.

Abby covered her surprise with a smile. Valerie wasn’t one to compliment her staffs performance, yet Abby had continued to work hard, just as she’d always done.

“And so has Mr. Laird,” Valerie added diplomatically.

Abby maintained her smile, though she was certain Parker Laird didn’t have a clue that she existed. Oh, he nodded, if he happened to catch her eye as he stepped off the elevator, but more often than not, he was reading the Wall Street Journal and continued to do so as he entered his office, which took up half the twenty-sixth floor.

Abby’s desk was positioned opposite the elevator where she was the first person people saw. It was her job to act as receptionist, in addition to her other duties. Though receptionist duty was a step down from the secretary she’d been, Abby didn’t really mind, recognizing that she was the least experienced member of Valerie’s staff.

But she wouldn’t always be.

“As you know, I’m going on vacation next week,” Valerie continued.

Expecting some long-term assignments, Abby opened her notebook, but Valerie shook her head.

“Not yet.” She drew a breath. “It’s an awkward time for me to leave, I know, since Laird is establishing drilling operations in the El Bahar oil field, but my husband booked this cruise a year ago.” She smiled and patted her perfectly coiffed blond head.

Abby mentally compared the sleek style with her own naturally curly auburn hair and sighed inwardly, longing for the professionalism of tamable hair.

“It’s our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,” Valerie confided.

“Congratulations,” Abby replied automatically, stunned that Valerie was even discussing the subject with her.

Valerie rarely referred to her personal life. Rumor had it she didn’t have one, and Abby could believe it. No matter how early Abby arrived, or how late she stayed, Valerie worked longer.

And so did Parker Laird.

In fact, attached to his office was a bedroom, bath and kitchenette, though why he’d want to spend the night in the Laird building when he owned a fabulous house in the River Oaks area of Houston, Abby didn’t know.

“Mr. Laird has graciously insisted that my husband and I go on our cruise.” Valerie seemed to believe it was important that Abby not think she was shirking her duty to Parker Laird. “I’ll be gone for a month.”

“A month?” Abby blurted out before she thought better of it.

“Yes.” Valerie’s lips tightened.

Abby recovered. “I’ll certainly do my best to support...” Support whom? Which of the two other staffers would take Valerie’s place? “To provide all the support I can,” she amended.

“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you. Abigail...” Valerie visibly hesitated. “I’ve recommended to Mr. Laird that you be his assistant while I’m away.”

“You recommended me?” Her voice cracked on the last word. As she spoke, Abby knew she should be acting confident and professional, thus reassuring Valerie that she’d made the right decision. But to be named Acting Executive Assistant to Parker Laird...

“You’re surprised.” A knowing smile curved Valerie’s lips.

Shocked was a better description, but Abby tried to pretend she wasn’t. “I’m delighted for the opportunity—”

“But you’re wondering at your good fortune?” Valerie spoke dryly and laced her fingers over her knees.

Abby kept quiet. Valerie wouldn’t be fooled by denials and Abby shouldn’t embarrass herself by trying to bluff.

“Barbara and Nancy have been on my staff much longer, but Barbara has two young children and Nancy has a boyfriend who isn’t quite as understanding about irregular hours as my husband, Gordon, is. I don’t believe you have a boyfriend?”

Abby shook her head.

“Family obligations?”

Again, Abby shook her head.

“That’s best. Mr. Laird requires someone to be on call virtually twenty-four hours a day.” Valerie sighed faintly. “Sometimes I think Laird Drilling has an operation in every time zone in the world. The person who fills in for me will have to be flexible—”

“And I am!” Abby would tie herself into knots for an opportunity like this one.

“—and a hard worker. You’ll also have to be decisive, and if you can read minds, that will help.”

Abby chuckled politely, but she had a feeling Valerie was half serious.

“We have a week before I leave. I’ll show you my files so you can become familiar with the way Mr. Laird likes things done.” Valerie stood and so did Abby. “We’ll meet with him after he returns from the Chamber of Commerce luncheon.”

Valerie strode across the office followed by a dazed Abby. “Until then, this is the Laird executive directory. You should familiarize yourself with the names and pictures so you’ll know who Mr. Laird deals with most frequently.” Valerie held out a thick paperback book.

Abby took the directory, though she’d already spent several lunch hours studying it in an effort to become more efficient. It appeared her initiative had paid off—and far more quickly than she’d ever imagined. “Thank you, Ms. Chippin. I appreciate your confidence in me and I won’t let you down.”

“I’m counting on that, Abigail. See you at one-thirty.”

As Valerie spoke, a dark blur passed the doorway. “Hang on. Looks like you’re about to get your first lesson in flexibility,” she murmured.

Within seconds the intercom on Valerie’s desk sounded. “Valerie? I can see you now.”

“On my way, Mr. Laird.” Valerie raised her eyebrows. “You see? He’s back forty-five minutes early and expects me to be ready and available for the meeting I requested.”

Hands quivering, Abby nodded and scribbled an illegible note in her pad. She mustn’t let on how nervous she was or Parker Laird would reject her as an assistant for sure.

Beckoning to her, Valerie opened the door connecting her office to the conference room and led Abby through it. A door on the other side opened into Parker’s office.

“When you bring people for a meeting, you’ll take them in the other door, of course.”

“Certainly,” Abby murmured, able to figure that out for herself. Nevertheless, she made a note, mostly to see if her fingers were working properly yet.

And then Valerie was opening the door to Parker Laird’s office.

Abby held her breath as the bottom of the door whispered across the carpet.

Parker Laird stood facing the windows behind his desk, dictating into a small personal tape recorder. He glanced toward them, but continued talking, his eyes watching Abby as she followed Valerie.

Abby didn’t know where to look, so she met his unnerving gray gaze. That he could study her so thoroughly, yet still focus on what he was saying, demonstrated just how he was single-handedly able to run a company the size of Laird Drilling.

He was young for such a position, but everyone knew that. And with his dark wavy hair and black eyebrows, he was incredibly handsome—Abby already knew that, too. But according to the gossips, all that handsomeness was wasted, since Parker Laird was already married—to his company. They even said that when he was cut, he bled oil.

Before now, the most Abby had ever seen of Parker Laird was when he was either coming from or going to somewhere. He walked very fast, his long strides making it difficult for people to keep up with him. It amused her to see him emerge from the elevator and take off down the hall, followed by men who huffed and puffed and still tried to talk with him. He didn’t walk that fast with Valerie, but even so, Abby had seen her jog a step or two at times.

Valerie headed toward two armless chairs positioned at the end of Parker’s desk and indicated that Abby should sit in one. Valerie reached under the edge of the massive desk and pulled out an extension ledge that sprang into place. On it, she set her enormous planning book opened to a calendar, and a small tape recorder like the one Parker was using. Then she waited.

Abby took a deep breath, grateful for the few minutes to compose herself, though with Parker Laird only a few feet away from her, how could she?

She was in Parker Laird’s inner sanctum, actually breathing the same air. Abby inhaled again. There was something different about the air in here, something that accounted for the charge in the atmosphere. Abby wondered about the man responsible for it.

He’d turned back to the windows, so she studied him, allowing her gaze to roam over his perfectly chiseled profile, perfectly tailored suit and perfectly shined shoes. Obviously, nothing less than perfection would do for Parker Laird.

She waited, ready to attempt perfection.

The minutes passed. He wasn’t one to waste time, but as Abby sat there, waiting for him to finish whatever it was he was doing, she became impatient. She was in the middle of several projects which she would have to complete before taking over for Valerie.

And she was missing her lunch.

He launched into another set of comments and Abby rolled her eyes and grimaced. Couldn’t he have waited until after he was finished to call them in here?

At that moment, her eyes met his in the reflection of the window.

He’d been watching her and she hadn’t known it. Abby swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. From now on, when she was called into his office, she would bring an extra task with her. And if she didn’t have anything, she’d make something up.

Parker turned then and set the recorder on his desk. “Sorry to keep you waiting, ladies.”

He’d seen her expression. As her cheeks warmed, Abby heard Valerie introduce her.

“Mr. Laird, as we discussed, Abigail Monroe will be filling in for me while I’m away.”

They’d met previously, of course, but Abby knew that before, she was only one of hundreds of faceless employees.

“Thanks for helping us out here, Abigail.” Parker reached down to shake her hand.

“Please call me Abby,” she said impulsively when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to hold her impatience against her. His hand closed over hers, his grip firm without being overpowering. It was a confident grip, accompanied by a brief smile.

Abby hadn’t seen him smile much and was struck by the warmth in it.

“And how’s school going, Abby?” he asked, sitting in his desk chair and swiveling it to face her.

Abby caught a movement on her left as Valerie jerked her head to stare at her. Valerie obviously hadn’t known Abby was studying to get her business degree, making it even more astonishing that Parker had.

“F-fine.” When Valerie had asked about obligations, Abby hadn’t mentioned her night classes. “I have my final exam this week, and then the spring term will be over.” She understood that nothing could interfere with her duties to Parker Laird.

He hadn’t missed Valerie’s look of surprise. “I believe Abby is taking advantage of our tuition reimbursement program,” he said to Valerie.

“I’d forgotten that,” she murmured.

“What are you studying?” Parker asked. As he spoke, he removed the tape from the recorder and handed it to Valerie, who wrote on the label.

“Business Administration,” Abby answered, conscious that Valerie was less than pleased with her.

Parker nodded, then swiveled back around, obviously finished with the small talk. “Schedule for this afternoon?”

Turning on her recorder, Valerie instantly began reading appointments from her book which Parker either confirmed, or amended, then added comments.

They spoke in a rapid shorthand that Abby could barely follow. Parker’s day was scheduled in fifteen-minute blocks until ten o’clock at night and, sometimes, he was doing more than one activity during a block.

He returned phone calls while exercising on the treadmill. He met with people during meals. He dictated during his commute.

The man apparently never took a break. It wouldn’t surprise Abby to know that he listened to self-help tapes in his sleep.

She, who worked full-time and went to school at night, felt like a slug in comparison.

“Abby, when do your classes meet?” he asked.

The question surprised her. “I’m just taking one this semester. It meets Tuesday and Thursday nights from seven until ten.”

Incredibly, Valerie was marking it on the master schedule.

“And your final exam?”

“This Thursday.”

“Block out Wednesday evening as well, Valerie,” Parker instructed. “She’ll need to study.”

Abby was both stunned and touched that a man who regularly functioned on a global scale would even think of such minute details—or care.

Perhaps that was his secret: think big, but don’t forget little. She was going to learn a lot in the month ahead.

For the next ten minutes, Abby listened to more rapid-fire directions and updates and wondered how on earth she would ever keep up.

“That’s enough for now.” Parker pulled his cuff back and glanced at his watch. “Let Abby update the schedule and then she can work with you this afternoon.”

A look passed between Parker and Valerie.

“Go ahead and get started on the schedule,” she said, closed the calendar and passed it and the tape to Abby. “The name of the computer file is printed at the bottom.”

Abby stacked the book with the directory and stood. They were going to talk about her, she knew. “Shall I transcribe the tape as well?”

Valerie nodded, and Abby walked briskly from the room.

“She’s very young,” Parker commented as he watched Abby’s retreat, then leveled his gaze at the woman who’d been his father’s Executive Assistant and then his when he’d become CEO of Laird Drilling after his father had died. “Interesting choice.”

“Abigail Monroe is bright and a hard worker.”

“I’ve read her performance reviews.” Parker tapped a file folder on his desk. “But she’s only been on staff, what, six weeks?”

Valerie shifted. “That’s true, however, I feel she’ll have more flexibility than Barbara or Nancy.”

“Flexibility is important.” Parker smiled inwardly. Valerie had been able to meet his eyes as she spoke, he’d give her credit for that.

He knew exactly what she was doing by leaving an inexperienced substitute in her place while she was gone, and under other circumstances, he wouldn’t allow it.

But these were not normal circumstances. The strongest quality little Abby Monroe had going for her was a freckle-faced, farm girl unsophistication that wouldn’t appeal to his brother, Jay.

Valerie must have been thinking along the same line. “Should I brief her on all the... unique aspects of the El Bahar project?”

“You can stress how important it is that Jay not be distracted in any way from his preparations to head up that operation.” Parker smiled grimly. “And I’ll make sure there are plenty of preparations to keep him occupied until the minute his plane leaves the ground.”

“Oh, Mr. Laird!” Valerie gripped her hands. “I shouldn’t be abandoning you now, of all times!”

“You don’t have a choice.” Reaching across his desk, Parker plucked an envelope containing two firstclass airline tickets from his blotter. He’d also upgraded their stateroom to a suite. “In all the years you’ve worked for me, Gordon has never complained about missed dinners and holiday crises. If you canceled his cruise, he’d never forgive either of us.” He slid the envelope over to her. “Happy anniversary.”

“Mr. Laird!” Valerie swallowed, obviously preparing to gush her thanks.

Parker forestalled her with an upheld hand. “Have a good time.”

Abby concentrated on keeping her knees from wobbling as she made her way over the thick carpeting and back to her desk.

She was going to be Parker Laird’s Executive Assistant!

Mentally, she repeated this astonishing fact until her breathing slowed and she could think once more. Reaching her desk, she dumped everything onto it, then allowed her knees to give way as she sank onto her chair.

Hello, I’m “Abigail Monroe, acting as Parker Laird’s Executive Assistant while Ms. Chippin is away. Mr. Laird will be entertaining a party of five Thursday evening at eight-thirty.

This is Abby Monroe, Parker Laird’s Executive Assistant. Please reserve the Presidential suite for Mr. Laird.

This is Abby Monroe...yes, that’s right. Parker Laird’s Executive Assistant...

How many times had she imagined saying those words or a variation? Becoming an Executive Assistant had been Abby’s goal ever since she’d started working at Laird Drilling and Exploration.

She hadn’t realized such a position existed until she’d listened to the office talk and then it seemed like a perfect job. Excitement, travel, responsibility, meeting famous people—that’s the kind of life Valerie Chippin had.

She rode in a limousine with a driver, attended luncheons at fancy restaurants with fancy foods, wore designer suits and traveled to exotic destinations. Valerie Chippin lived the way Abby had dreamed of back when she was growing up in the tiny town of Haste, Texas.

When Abby had been promoted to Valerie’s staff just weeks ago, she’d been thrilled, thinking her hard work was paying off.

And now this.

Abby stole a glance into Nancy and Barbara’s office. The two women were at lunch and Abby wondered if Valerie had told them the news yet.

Probably not. Abby doubted they would have been so calm. In fact, Abby didn’t want to be here when they were told the news.

It wasn’t that she didn’t get along with Nancy and Barbara, it was just that the two women had worked together for several years and Abby was the junior newcomer. Abby got the routine and less interesting work. Lunchtimes were staggered so someone was always available to answer the telephones, but Nancy and Barbara always went to lunch together and Abby went later, by herself.

She didn’t mind. She accepted the fact that she was the least senior of the group.

Until a few moments ago.

Abby checked her watch. No time for lunch today, though she was so excited she wouldn’t have been able to eat.

She immediately started work updating the schedule and was transcribing the tape when at ten after one, Nancy and Barbara returned. They were late, Abby noted, and they’d left five minutes early.

They probably thought no one had noticed, but now Abby knew that Valerie must have. Abby never left early and was never late. In fact, it was rare for her to take the full hour allotted to her.

Abby could hear the women talking in the office they shared. Through the fogged glass, she could see that Valerie was back in her office. She had to tell them Abby’s new position soon.

Sure enough, she heard Valerie’s voice on the intercom.

Feeling cowardly, Abby grabbed her purse and slipped away from her desk. She took the stairs to the floor below and headed toward the vending machines.

She should eat something so she would be sharp this afternoon, but her stomach rebelled at the thought of food. Abby settled for a plastic container of orange juice though she had to force herself to drink it.

No one else was in the tiny snack bar so Abby closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, trying not to think about the fact that she was about to embark upon the greatest opportunity of her career.

Even though it was only for a month, Abby would forever after be able to say on her résumé that she had worked as Acting Executive Assistant to Parker Laird, CEO of Laird Drilling and Exploration.

She would be an experienced Executive Assistant.

Abby threw away the empty orange juice container, then stopped by the ladies’ room to touch up her makeup and comb her hair.

She heard the voices even before she pushed open the door to the outer sitting area.

“I heard what she said, but I still don’t understand!” Nancy’s angry voice bounced off the tiled floor and walls of the rest room area. “One of us should be in charge while she’s gone, not Abby.”

Abby froze.

“Oh, it makes perfect sense.” Barbara’s voice was moderated.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been here six years, I’ve been here three, and Abby’s got less than two months under her belt. Perfect sense.”

“It’s not worth getting angry over.”

“Maybe you don’t mind spending the rest of your working career as a secretary to a glorified girl Friday, but I want to know that someday, I can aspire to be...that girl Friday!”

Barbara laughed. “Then pay attention. How many times has Valerie gone on vacation?”

“She never goes on vacation.”

“Right. And now she’s going to be gone for an entire month, a month in which Parker Laird will discover how much he depends on her because things are not going to run smoothly with Abby in charge.”

“Which is why one of us should be in charge.”

“Which is why one of us is not in charge.”

There was a silence.

Abby tried to understand what Barbara was saying, but couldn’t.

Nancy apparently couldn’t, either. “I don’t get it.”

“Valerie wants to have a job when she gets back—her well-paid, perk-laden job. She’s got Parker thinking she’s indispensable. If either of us took her place, Parker would discover that we can do the job just as well as she can, but Abby will mess up so much, Parker Laird will be thrilled when Valerie comes back.”

“She is so smart!” Nancy said, awe in her voice. “I’m going to remember this.”

And so would she, Abby vowed and slipped out of the rest room.

So she was expected to fail.

Well, then she wouldn’t. Abby climbed the stairs back to the twenty-sixth floor. She’d prove everyone wrong. She could do this job, she knew it.

Now all she had to do was prove it to Parker Laird.


CHAPTER TWO

THE following Monday, Abby arrived on the twenty-sixth floor at seven o’clock in the morning. She was armed with pieces of paper on which she’d scribbled the last-minute instructions Valerie had telephoned from the airport in Houston and astonishingly, again from Athens, waking Abby up in the middle of the night.

Quite frankly, Abby hadn’t relaxed until she’d called the cruise line to see if the ship had sailed. Even then, it wouldn’t surprise her if Valerie managed a ship-to-shore call.

Abby automatically sat at her own desk, then smiled when she remembered she was entitled to use Valerie’s office for the next month. Nancy and Barbara would be sharing receptionist duty. While she transferred her nameplate, calendar and glass paperweight from her desk to Valerie’s, Abby made a mental note to inform Mr. Laird of their schedule.

Arms full, she fumbled with the key to Valerie’s office door, the scratching sounds loud in the silence. Though always quiet, the twenty-sixth floor seemed eerie just because Abby knew she was alone.

The first thing she did after dumping her armload on the desk was to put Valerie’s nameplate in the drawer and replace it with her own. Abby had invested in the heavy etched glass because the design looked substantial, yet feminine, and more important than the brown plastic plates Laird issued to its employees. Beside it, she set the matching calendar.

The paperweight, though also of a heavy glass, wasn’t part of the set. Floating in the oval were foreign canceled stamps, reminding Abby of the places she could travel if she kept working toward her goal. She set the paperweight by the computer monitor.

Before she started to work, Abby drew the blinds all the way to the top of the windows and stared across the city of Houston. An orange sun burned through the exhaust haze as rush-hour traffic clogged the freeways.

No one in her family could understand the appeal of the big city to Abby. “Full of people, noise, traffic and pollution,” they said.

But Abby felt the excitement and energy—she’d yield on the pollution.

The city—this building—was where things happened and now Abby was an important part of it all.

Or she would be as soon as she figured out what to do next. Sorting through her notes, Abby shook her head. For a week, she’d been Valerie’s shadow and the recipient of volumes of minutiae, yet she wasn’t as secure in her knowledge of the routines as she’d like to be. It seemed that no day was a typical day, and Valerie kept entirely too much information in her head. She dispensed pieces of information out of context and whenever she remembered.

Abby decided that she’d start an instruction journal for the next time someone had to fill in as Executive Assistant.

She spent several minutes transferring notes into the master schedule, an oversized portfolio, and tossing snippets of paper before discovering a lump underneath the bottom layer.

A cassette tape. Mr. Laird’s cassette tape. It had probably been on Valerie’s desk when Abby dumped the papers onto it.

Popping the tape into the machine, she put on the headphones.

“Good morning, Abby.” Parker Laird’s deep voice sounded in her ears. “Please make the following schedule changes and have a revised copy on my desk as soon as possible.”

As Abby listened to the instructions, she was dismayed to realize that Parker had made the tape this morning, prior to her early arrival.

Did the man never sleep?

Abby concentrated on Parker’s rapid-fire instructions. Although in deference to her inexperience, he frequently elaborated on what he wanted and who the members of various groups were, Abby had to rewind the tape countless times. She had a headache before eight o’clock. She also had several hours’ work ahead of her and hadn’t yet made a copy of the receptionist schedule.

But of course, she reminded herself, that’s why the Executive Assistant had a staff. She opened the door connecting Valerie’s office with Barbara and Nancy’s and stopped.

The office was empty. It was also ten past eight.

Her intercom buzzed. “Abby?”

Parker. Abby leaped to answer it. “Yes, Mr. Laird?”

“You didn’t leave a message, so I didn’t know if you were in or not.”

There hadn’t been anything on the tape about a message. “I’ve been here over an hour.”

“I wish I’d known. I’ve been waiting for you.”

There was no censure in his voice, yet even alone in the office, Abby’s face heated. “I’ll be right there.”

She fanned her face and started for Mr. Laird’s office, then stopped. With Nancy and Barbara not in yet, there was no one to answer the telephone. And Abby hadn’t had a chance to print out Mr. Laird’s revised schedule.

Scribbling some instructions on a sticky note, Abby stuck it right in the center of Barbara’s computer monitor, then hurried into Mr. Laird’s office.

What a horrible start to her tenure as his Executive Assistant.

Breathless, she arrived at the center of power without noticing the air, the carpet or the view.

But she did notice Parker Laird.

He stood clear on the other side of the room behind a long table covered with maps. Without looking at her, he beckoned her forward with the barest movement of his fingers.

Abby didn’t know whether she was supposed to join him at the table, or take the usual spot at the end of his desk. Valerie always seemed to know, but Abby couldn’t tell how. She hovered uncertainly by the desk.

Parker pulled a swing-arm lamp closer to the map. “Did you forget to tell me you were in this morning?”

“There weren’t any instructions to do so on the tape you left.”

He didn’t respond and Abby just stayed quiet. He still hadn’t looked at her. At last, he straightened, tapped the map with his finger, stared some more, then abruptly wheeled around and strode over to his desk. “From now on, when you arrive, leave a message on my voice mail.”

“Yes, Mr. Laird.” Abby made a note. This was a routine Valerie hadn’t told her about. She hoped the oversight wasn’t on purpose, but suspected it was.

“Do you have a copy of the revised schedule?” Parker Laird, all white shirt and French cuffs, sat at the desk and swiveled to face her.

“I was working on it when you called. I left instructions for Barbara to print out a copy.”

Parker looked down at his watch and then at her. “And that will be...?”

Abby swallowed, torn between defending herself by exposing Barbara and Nancy, thus completely alienating them, or taking the blame for not being organized this morning. “As soon as possible, Mr. Laird,” she bluffed and met his gaze, pen poised.

He continued to gaze at her, his expression attentively blank, as though waiting for her to grasp some concept. She had a horrible feeling that he wasn’t fooled at all.

“Do you have any further changes to the schedule before we print out a final copy?” she asked, mostly to sound efficient in spite of her inefficiency.

“There’s never a final copy,” he murmured. “Only a most recent copy.”

“Do you have any further changes to the schedule before we print out the most recent copy?” Abby amended as though she hadn’t previously spoken.

Parker Laird blinked. He was looking at her as though he was inwardly amused and teetering on the edge of a smile.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“No, thank you, Mr. Laird.”

He continued to gaze at her with the same expression.

“Oh!” Abby shot to her feet. “Coffee!” No, thank you, Mr. Laird. She cringed. “I—I’ll—”

He held up a hand. “Making coffee isn’t one of your responsibilities, but if you happen to be drinking a cup when I call for you, feel free to bring it with you.”

“Of course, Mr. Laird.” Abby was a tea drinker but couldn’t imagine ever being relaxed enough to drink in front of Parker Laird.

“In fact, should you want a cup, say, right now, you can get one when you bring the schedule.” He spoke in a measured tone with only the slightest emphasis on the last words.

Bring the schedule. Abby got the message. “Thank you, Mr. Laird.” Abby backed her way across the room. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Idiot, idiot, idiot, she chanted to herself as she raced back to her office.

Incredibly, neither Barbara nor Nancy had arrived. Abby sat at the computer, frantically opened the schedule file and typed in the changes, conscious of the passing minutes—conscious that the current fifteen minute block of time was allocated to “Phone Ian Douglass in Aberdeen” and not “Wait for Abby to type schedule.”

She was shouting, “Hurry!” at the laser printer when Barbara arrived, a cup from a gourmet coffee shop in her hand.

“A little frazzled this morning, are we?” she asked.

“Where have you been?” Abby snapped. She’d rehearsed various approaches at chastising Barbara and Nancy for their tardiness. This wasn’t one of them.

“Valerie told us to come in at eight-thirty this morning. She thought it would give you time to get organized.”

Abby yanked the pages from the printer output. “From now on, please come in at eight o’clock. Even earlier, if you can manage.” She was so angry, she could barely look at Barbara.

“I’ll try, but it depends on traffic and the school won’t let parents drop off their kids before seven-thirty.”

At that, Abby looked fully at Barbara. “I was here at seven this morning,” she said evenly, “and there was an entire tape of instructions waiting for me.” Now do you see why Valerie named me Acting Executive Assistant?

Barbara apparently received Abby’s unspoken message. “What can I do?” she asked, stuffing her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk.

“I’m on my way back to Mr. Laird’s office. He has a meeting at ten and wants files pulled to study before then. Details are in my notes.”

Barbara pried the plastic cover off her coffee cup. “I’ll take care of it.”

Glad the challenge to her authority had come and gone quickly, Abby hurried back to Parker’s office. Outside, she drew several deep breaths so she wouldn’t arrive panting at his desk.

Parker was facing the windows as he spoke on the phone when Abby unobtrusively took her seat by the desk.

“Yes, Ian.”

This would be the eight-thirty call to Aberdeen. Abby remembered her vow to have something to occupy herself. Of course, she didn’t, so she studied the schedule, breaking down the tasks and assigning them to either Barbara or Nancy. She finished in three minutes, but pretended she hadn’t.

She would not look in the glass.

As she worked, her skin prickled. He’s looking at me.

But that was ridiculous. He wasn’t looking looking. He was probably simply staring blankly as he concentrated on his telephone call.

From her experience with Valerie this past week, Abby had learned that Parker liked to jot notes immediately after a telephone call, so when he disconnected the call, she remained quiet.

He scribbled a line or two, then looked toward her with a raised eyebrow.

She stood. “Here’s the schedule, Mr. Laird.”

“Call me Parker, Abby,” he said, taking it from her.

Call him Parker? Abby’s mouth worked, but nothing came out.

He glanced up at her.

“A-all right, Mr. Laird.”

“Parker.”

“All right, Mr. Parker.”

He blinked once, then said, “When you call me Parker, you get to drop the Mr.”

“Yes, sir.”

His brow furrowed. “It bothers you to use my name?”

Bother wasn’t the right word. Maybe uncomfortable was, but she didn’t want to admit to it. “Valerie always calls you Mr. Laird, so I’m used to it.”

He nodded. “Valerie has called me Mr. Laird since I was thirteen years old. I cannot break her of the habit. If it helps, think of Parker as a more efficient use of time. Only two syllables to say.”

Was he making a joke? “Yes, sir.”

He gave her a long look before saying dryly, “Sir would, of course, be most efficient of all.” Turning his attention to the schedule she’d set on his desk, he glanced through it. “The meeting at ten is informal and I don’t anticipate it lasting more than an hour. However—” he stopped and made a note “—my brother will be with us, and Jay is notoriously unpredictable, so we might stretch to lunch. I want you to be prepared to order sandwiches—that sort of thing. Valerie uses the deli down the street.” He waved his hand. “They make an assortment platter that’s worked well in the past.”

Abby knew what he was talking about. She’d called in the order before. “Yes, sir—Parker.”

“Abby?”

She looked up and met his gray gaze.

“Parker,” he murmured. “Just Parker.”

Nodding, she repeated, “Just Parker.” Parker, Parker, Parker, she drilled into her mind. What was the matter with her? By asking her to call him Parker, he was trying to put her at ease and she’d turned it into something awkward instead of just calling him by his name.

During the next ten minutes, Abby avoided calling him anything at all. “I’ll be back with the files,” she informed him when they’d finished, but he’d already turned his attention to the next event on his schedule.

Fortunately, Barbara had put the files he wanted on her desk. By the time Abby delivered them, Nancy had arrived and both women were ready for their next assignments. Abby showed them the schedule and the tasks, and without complaint or comment, they started working.

She sat down to catch her breath. She was refastening the barrette that clipped the hair at the back of her neck when the interoffice messenger wheeled in a dolly with two black boxes containing the morning’s correspondence, reports, messages, requests and memos.

It was the Executive Assistant’s job to sort through everything and decide what deserved Mr. Laird‘s—Parker’s—personal attention and what could be handled by the staff.

She’d just reached for the brown routing envelope on top when the staff telephone started ringing. With resignation, she waited for the buzz on her phone.

Without a doubt, this first phone call would be some earth-shattering problem that she was illequipped to deal with. She dropped her head to her desk, and when the phone buzzed, it sounded loud in her ear.

“Peter Frostwood on line one,” intoned Nancy. She’d drawn first receptionist duty.

Peter Frostwood was the head of Laird North America. Of course. Hadn’t she expected as much?

“Abigail Monroe,” she said.

There was a brief silence. “I asked for Valerie.”

“I’m Acting Executive Assistant while Ms. Chippin is away,” Abby reminded him. There had been a memo sent to all department heads. She’d typed it herself.

“Tell Parker I need to see him ASAP.”

This was where it got tricky. Abby had to decide, without knowing if Peter Frostwood was the alarmist type, whether to interrupt Parker’s preparations for the meeting or give him the message at their noontime conference. Asking a highly-placed executive to explain himself was presumptuous. Interrupting Parker for every little thing defeated the whole purpose of an executive assistant.

“Mr. Laird is preparing for a meeting at ten o’clock and his schedule for the day is booked,” she explained. “Shall I put you through to discuss a time when it will be convenient for you to see him?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Abby buzzed Parker. If he objected to the interruption, he’d tell her. “Peter Frostwood needs to speak with you.”

“Okay.”

And that was all. She’d chosen correctly. This time.

Abby eyed the two full boxes. She’d gone through similar boxes with Valerie last week and knew there would be another load delivered in the afternoon.

As Valerie had taught her, Abby culled the papers into those requiring action, signature, and information. Valerie ranked the action items, but Abby didn’t feel capable yet. The production reports, long tedious pages of numbers, were to be entered into a spreadsheet program. That had frequently been Abby’s job and she was delighted to assign it to Nancy.

The phone continued to ring and Abby found herself falling behind.

She still had to prepare for the meeting and at nine-thirty, went in to set up the conference room.

Setting up for a morning conference meant making coffee. Though she didn’t drink the stuff herself, Abby had watched Valerie.

Parker Laird didn’t settle for the prepackaged stuff, oh no. Valerie had rattled off the names of the beans in his custom mix, along with the fact that he liked them roasted a precise number of seconds and freshly ground.

To Abby, a coffee bean was a coffee bean. She poured them into the grinder, then dumped the grounds into a metallic-filtered basket, added tap water and hoped for the best.

The rest of the tray would be just as complicated as Parker Laird, himself. No powdered packets of coffee creamer and no plastic cups. That would be too easy, Abby grumbled to herself. There must be skim milk, cream and regular milk. Parker served both natural sugar and white sugar, along with two kinds of artificial sweetener. The coffee would be poured into heavy royal-blue mugs with the Laird Drilling and Exploration logo in white.

By the time Abby had made a pot of decaf and had carried in the tray, it was only ten minutes until the meeting should start. Feeling rushed and flustered, she bent down and yanked open the credenza doors to look for the napkins bearing the Laird logo. These were white, with the logo in royal blue.

“Hellooo, Valerie, my love. Have you decided to leave your husband and come away with me yet?”

Eyes wide, Abby jerked upright. Leaning against the conference room doorway was a younger version of Parker. This was the wickedly charming black sheep, Jay Laird, himself. Abby had only seen the back of his head before in person, since he was rarely here.

He was as handsome as everyone said he was with the gray Laird eyes and black hair. His skin was attractively tanned and his features weren’t as sharply defined as Parker’s.

“You’re not Valerie.”

Abby shook her head.

He advanced into the room, interest in his gray eyes, a winsome smile on his lips. “Come away with me anyway.”

“I—I can’t do that.” She closed the cabinet doors. “I haven’t finished setting up for the meeting.”

He looked around the room. “Chairs, table... what more do we need?”

“Water,” Abby said.

“Ah.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his khaki trousers, he cocked his head sideways. “If I fetch the water, can we sneak away?”

Abby smiled in spite of herself. “Mr. Laird, you’re supposed to be at this meeting.”

He winced. “Jay, please.”

“Jay,” she repeated easily.

He regarded her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You know who I am.”

“Everyone knows who you are.”

“But I, alas, do not know who everyone is.”

Abby abandoned the microscopic hope that he might have noticed her sometime during the past four years. “I’m Abby Monroe. Ms. Chippin is on a cruise and I’m filling in for her.”

“A cruise.” He looked skyward. “She left without me.” He met her eyes with a soulful gaze. “I’m devastated.”

Abby laughed, feeling the tension of the morning melt away for the first time.

“So, you’ve drawn the short straw.” He tucked her hand through his arm. “Come tell Uncle Jay all about it.”

“About what?” With a smile, Abby disengaged her arm and picked up two empty water pitchers.

“About slaving for my brother. Do you have a life left?” Jay followed her into the tiny coffee bar.

There was hardly room for one person, let alone two, and Abby was aware that he was standing close behind her as she filled the pitchers with ice and water. “This is only my first day.”

“Quick!” He grasped her shoulders. “Run! Flee! Get out while you still can.”

Chuckling, Abby handed him a pitcher. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

“There’s work and there’s the rest of your life.” Jay carried the pitcher into the conference area. “My brother and I differ on how much time one should devote to each. You see, I work to live. Parker lives to work.”

It wasn’t her place to comment, though Abby thought fleetingly of the pictures of a smiling Jay that regularly appeared in the society news section of the paper. Parker always appeared in the business news section.

She followed Jay out of the coffee bar, positioned the pitchers on a tray and stepped back to examine the arrangement she’d made on top of the credenza.

“Looks like you’ve been doing this for years. Valerie couldn’t have done better.”

Jay had said exactly what Abby thirsted to hear. She exhaled and turned a brilliant smile toward him.

“Jay, I’ve been looking for you.”

Her smile vanishing instantly, Abby’s gaze flew to the doorway where Parker stood.

Something unidentifiable flashed in his eyes and she wondered if she should have announced his brother’s arrival.

“And now you’ve found me,” Jay said lightly.

“Pestering my assistant, I see.” Parker walked forward with uncharacteristic slowness and tossed file folders onto the oval conference table.

“Just giving her a hand with the meeting preps.”

Parker glanced at the credenza. “All appears to be in order.”

Though on the surface, both men were speaking in nonconfrontational tones, Abby sensed an underlying tension between them. Time to leave. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Laird?”

“Would you bring me the map I left on my worktable?”

Abby hurried into Parker’s office, uncertain whether he was angry or not. Surely she didn’t have to announce his own brother.

Abby rolled the map and headed back to the conference room. The two men were visible through the doorway. Parker had opened the files and was speaking to Jay, who wore a resigned look as he flipped through the papers in them.

“I would rather hire my own team,” he was saying as Abby quietly placed the map at Parker’s elbow.

“You arrive next week.” Parker’s voice was clipped. “You have no on-site support personnel and you have no experience.”

“I have experience,” Jay snapped. “It’s different than yours, so you discount it.”

The brothers locked gazes. Without blinking, Parker opened another file folder and pushed it toward Jay. “Ian Douglass is a good man with twenty-three years’ experience in remote drilling locations.”

“I’ll consider him. Thanks for the tip.”

“It’s not a tip. I hired him this morning.”

“Then you can un-hire him this afternoon.”

Abby held her breath and as discreetly as possible, tried to evaporate from the room.

“Abby, show everyone in here when they arrive.”

“Yes, Mr. Laird.”

He regarded her without expression, but Jay winked and Abby quickly turned away before Parker could see her smile.


CHAPTER THREE

AS THE men and women arrived for the meeting, Abby showed them in.

Both Laird brothers greeted them. Jay was a flirt and a backslapper with a contagious laugh and none of the intensity that surrounded his brother.

Jay made her smile.

Parker made her nervous.

He expected perfection and she was determined to give it to him. The pressure of wondering when she was going to make a mistake, as she surely would, was wearing on her.

“Here you go, Mr. Danvers.” She handed coffee to a man wearing a bolo string tie held by a clip with a diamond cut in the shape of Texas.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he boomed. “How’s school?”

“I took my final exam last Thursday.”

“Got your grade yet?”

She shook her head.

“You let me know, now, y’hear?”

Abby smiled. Diamond Don Danvers was a character. He loved playing the quintessential Texas oilman where all the younger women were his “sweethearts” and all the younger men his “boys.” A wildcatter from way back, he’d earned the right to his showmanship. Everybody knew Diamond Don—he made sure of it. Abby had a soft spot for him because he’d stopped and introduced himself the first time he’d noticed her sitting at her desk by the elevator. It didn’t matter to him that she was just a secretary, and it didn’t matter to him that Parker and his entourage had hiked down the hall. Diamond Don took the extra minute to learn who she was and ever after asked her about school.

Carrying his coffee, Diamond Don approached Parker and Abby shook her head, thinking that there couldn’t be two individuals more different in temperament.

Except maybe Parker and his brother.

She hovered around the credenza waiting to see if she should refresh the coffee before the meeting got under way.

“Shall we get started?” Parker asked, though the way he spoke, no one interpreted it as a question.

Recognizing her signal to leave, Abby started for the door. Since Parker taped the meeting, he didn’t need her to take notes, but she would remain in Valerie’s office in case he buzzed her for anything.

“Good God Almighty, Parker.” Diamond Don’s voice cut through the murmurs of people getting settled around the table. “What have you done to your coffee, son?”

Abby froze.

Diamond Don took another swallow and grimaced.

It was then that Abby noticed the full mugs sitting in front of everyone.

“Tastes fine to me,” Jay announced, and swallowed, though he blinked rapidly and avoided her eyes.

Abby’s palms iced as she looked toward Parker.

Staring into his mug, he twirled the liquid around the edges.

“It’s a new bean I’m trying.” Parker addressed the group. “Indonesian Green Volcano. I’m thinking of investing in the farm where it’s grown.”

“Green Volcano.” Diamond Don shook his head. “Tastes like volcanic ash, all right.” He set his cup aside. “I’d give this one a pass, son.”

Fervent murmurs accompanied Diamond Don’s pronouncement.

“Make a note not to order that brand anymore, would you, Abby?” Parker glanced at her before turning his attention to the agenda. “And have Barbara or Nancy make us some more coffee.”

Abby nodded and escaped.

Back in her office, she shut the door and leaned against it, her eyes closed while she unwound for a few moments. Inhaling, she noticed that she could smell Valerie’s perfume. The scent had permeated the office reminding Abby as nothing else that she was only a temporary Executive Assistant.

Abby didn’t want to be reminded that she was only temporary. Someday she wouldn’t be temporary. Crossing to her desk, she made a note about the coffee, asked Nancy to make more, then made another note to spray Valerie’s office with nice refreshing pine scent.

Slipping off her pumps, Abby buried her toes in the carpet pile. During the next hour and a half, her telephone was blessedly silent. Either Nancy or Barbara handled all the calls that came in. Abby sorted through all of one box and was making headway on the second when her intercom buzzed.

“Yes, Mr. Laird?”

“Abby, it looks like we’ll be eating lunch here.” Parker’s voice was as composed as ever, though this development just shot his schedule all to pieces.

“I’ll order sandwiches,” she said.

“That’ll be fine.”

Abby stood and stretched her arms over her head. It had been a long morning and she knew she was in for a lengthy afternoon.

Picking up the telephone, she reached for Valerie’s Rolodex. The huge round card file wasn’t in its customary spot. No wonder there had been so much room on the desk. Abby looked on the window ledge, then by the computer, behind the monitor, on the file cabinets, in the file cabinets and in the desk drawer before giving up.

“Do either of you have Valerie’s Rolodex?” Abby asked Barbara and Nancy from the doorway.

Both women looked up from their computers and shook their heads.

“It’s gone.” Abby looked around their office anyway.

Barbara clicked a button on the tape recorder and took off her headphones. “What do you mean, it’s gone?”

“I can’t find it. I’m supposed to order sandwiches.”

Barbara got up from her desk. “Nancy, you’ve got that deli number, don’t you?”

Nodding, Nancy flipped through her own file. “I’ll call in the order, but which assortment?”

The three women stared at each other. Valerie’s Rolodex contained personal information about everyone who did, or had done, business with Parker Laird.

“Who’s in the meeting?” Barbara asked.

“Well, Diamond Don.” Abby tried to remember the rest, but her growing panic wiped their names from her mind.

“So we’ll have at least one roast beef,” Nancy murmured. “I thought I saw a woman in a red suit go by.”

Fighting to control her runaway emotions, Abby nodded.

“That’ll be the corporate lawyer handling the El Bahar setup. And I saw Jay...” Barbara looked off into space. “It’s probably the same bunch who met last Monday.”

Nancy nodded. “I’ll order the same sandwich platter.”

“Make sure Diamond Don’s roast beef is rare,” Barbara reminded her.

“Gotcha.”

Breathing easier, Abby leaned against the file cabinet. “Thanks.” Only now would she admit to herself that she’d been afraid Nancy and Barbara wouldn’t support her. If they hadn’t been so helpful, Abby might have done something stupid like interrupt the meeting to ask Parker what kind of sandwiches to order.

Looking distracted, Barbara walked into Valerie’s office. Abby followed her and watched as Barbara looked in all the same places Abby had.

Nancy appeared in the doorway a few moments later. “Find it?”

“No, and I don’t think we’re going to,” Abby said, a queasiness settling in her stomach.

Barbara looked at her. “You think Valerie took it with her?” she asked bluntly.

Abby sank onto the desk chair. “Don’t you?”

“Why would she do that?” Nancy protested. “It doesn’t make any sense. She knows we’ll need her notes to—oh.”

She and Barbara exchanged a look and Abby knew they were remembering their conversation in the ladies’ room—the one about Abby failing. She was remembering it, too.

By taking the old Rolodex, with its years’ worth of notes and observations, Valerie had seen to it that Abby couldn’t possibly slip seamlessly into her place. All Parker’s hotel preferences, special instructions, favorite restaurants and the wait staff in those restaurants, even who took what in his or her coffee and names of spouses and children—all the little details that contributed to an extra edge in Parker’s business dealings were in that Rolodex.

“I don’t suppose any of the information was computerized?” Abby asked.

Both women shook their heads.

Think, Abby commanded herself, though she wanted to shriek—preferably at Valerie. “Then we’ll have to recreate Valerie’s notes.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Staring at her toes as they dug into the carpet, Abby swiveled her chair from side to side. “The thing of it is,” she began with elaborate casualness, “not having the information in Valerie’s files makes us all look bad—including Valerie.”

“How do you figure that?” There was a belligerent defensiveness in Nancy’s voice.

Barbara was silent and Abby guessed that she was figuring things out for herself.

“I’ve only been working in this department since March and you’ve been here how long?”

“Three years.” Nancy tilted her chin up. “So what?”

“I know you’ve worked here longer.” Abby looked at Barbara, who crossed her arms. “Naturally, Mr. Laird expects you both to know more about the routine than I do, because if you haven’t learned anything after working here all those years...” She allowed her voice to trail off as Barbara and Nancy exchanged looks.

“We’d look either stupid or lazy.” Nancy propped her hand on her hip and shook her head in disgust. “So how does that make Valerie look bad?”

“Because she hired us,” Barbara answered.

“And because she’s the manager,” Abby added. “In the management course I’m taking, we learned about delegating and about making provisions for when you’re out of the office. That way, everything functions smoothly. Did you know that there isn’t a Policy and Procedure manual?”

“There doesn’t have to be,” Nancy said. “The policy is to do what we’re told. The procedure to do it as fast as possible.”

Barbara laughed, but Abby didn’t. “What if Valerie doesn’t have the Rolodex, or what if she decides she likes Greece so much that she doesn’t want to come back?” Abby didn’t wait for a response. Besides, everyone knew Valerie would be back. “I’m turning my notes into a manual so one of you can take over in case I’m not here.”

By the time she finished speaking, both women were nodding in agreement.

“I’ve made my own notes,” Nancy offered, with the first genuine smile she’d directed toward Abby since Valerie had announced that Abby would be her replacement. “I’m the one who usually makes the phone calls.”

“Great.” Abby beamed at her.

“I know a thing or two,” Barbara added. “I’ll start a file.” She headed toward her office, then stopped and glanced back at Abby. “I really hate looking incompetent.”

“Of course, we’ll be making Valerie look good, too,” Nancy grumbled. “And it was mean of her to take the Rolodex.”

“Maybe she didn’t do it on purpose,” Abby said.

Both women gave her a look.

“And maybe she did.” Abby grinned and they all shared a laugh.

Before following Nancy back through the connecting door, Barbara pointed to one of the black boxes. “Is this box sorted?”

“Yes.” Abby hadn’t wanted to mention the pile of work. If she hadn’t had to stop and prepare for the meeting, she would have distributed it before now. “Could you use someone from the typing pool downstairs? With Valerie gone, we’ve effectively had our work force cut by twenty-five percent. I don’t want to get behind.”

“Good idea.” Barbara scooped up the pile of papers. “If we nab some leftover sandwiches, Nancy and I can stay through lunch and have typing work ready by one-thirty.”

Abby nodded, grimacing as a thought occurred to her. “What kind of sandwich does Mr. Laird like? I didn’t even think to ask.”

“Weird sandwiches,” Barbara answered. “He likes to be surprised and the deli experiments on him.”

Parker Laird liked to be surprised? The same Parker Laird who fanatically scheduled his days in fifteen-minute blocks?

“Tell her about the mushrooms,” Nancy called from the other office.

“Oh, yeah. Last time, they sent grilled portabella mushrooms and tomato on sourdough.” Barbara sighed. “Heavenly.”

“A mushroom sandwich? I’ll take chicken salad, thank you very much,” Abby said.

As soon as Barbara disappeared into her office, Abby closed her eyes and exhaled. She’d handled this hurdle and convinced Barbara and Nancy to support her. She’d acted managerial. Her business professor would have been proud.

But it was Parker she wanted to please.

Thanks to Jay, he was already forty-five minutes behind schedule. His brother was going to have to learn how to facilitate meetings if he had any intention of returning from El Bahar within a year.

Lunch remains were scattered across the conference table and people had lingered, gabbing aimlessly for at least twenty minutes after all business had been conducted. Parker had allowed ten minutes for socializing prior to the meeting. He failed to understand why it was necessary to supplement the allotted time during business hours. It was inefficient.

Jay was inefficient and nothing Parker did seemed to change his ways.

Parker eyed the frown on his brother’s face and felt the minutes tick away.

“Surely it isn’t necessary that I attend the—” Jay broke off and scooted the gold and black invitation toward him. “Chamber Music Preservation Board Awards luncheon.” He grimaced. “How many of these things are you on, anyway?”

“We are on dozens. Thank Mother.”

“Then let her go.”

“She is.”

“Then you go.”

“I’ll be at a Zoological Society fund-raiser.”

“Trade you.” Jay grinned.

“Ordinarily that wouldn’t be a problem, but continuity is a factor here.”

“English, please.”

Parker leveled a look at him. “You’re leaving next week, so be a good boy and accept the pretty plaque.”

“And what did I do?”

“You donated fifty thousand dollars to refurbish the Green Room at Allen Hall.”

Jay gave a low whistle. “I’m very generous.”

Parker spared a brief smile. “The Symphony Guild is wining and dining you tomorrow night.”

“Why?” Jay looked pained.

“Because you’re leaving next week and they hope you won’t forget them.”

“Why? Is their Green Room shabby, too?”

“Not anymore.”

Jay heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Parker, how did I get a reputation as a classical music lover?”

“By donating generously to the arts in Houston. Mother is very pleased.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You sicced those stuffy music people on me, didn’t you?”

Parker met his gaze. “I ran out of wall space for plaques.”

Jay drummed his fingers on the conference table. “Tell me, am I free any night this week?”

Parker noted that Jay had not brought his agenda with him—the cordovan leather agenda Parker had given him. Typical. He consulted his own planning book, where he was keeping track of Jay’s schedule. “Let’s see. Thursday is the Aria Society.” He looked up. “Another farewell dinner.”

“It could be worse. It could be the whole opera group.”

“That’s on Friday night. A performance in your honor.”

“Oh, joy.” Jay groaned and dropped his head to the table.

“Now tonight... You’ll enjoy tonight. The University of Houston Jazz Ensemble. Dinner and dancing.” Parker was planning to go to that one himself. Dancing meant contact with women. Parker knew better than to allow Jay unchaperoned contact with women so near to his departure for El Bahar.




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