Jillian was about to sit at an empty table when she spotted a familiar face. Letitia sat alone, reading a newspaper. Jillian brought her tray to the other womans table and set it down.
Hi, Letitia, okay if I sit here?
Letitia looked up from her paper without cracking a smile. Youre not very practiced with office politics, are you?
Truth was, Jillian had no direct experience with office politics. The only place shed ever worked besides Project Justice was at Daniels mansion, where her place among the staff as queen bee had been secure. Shed had no need to play games, curry favor or assemble a group of allies. But shed read enough Cosmopolitan articles to understand how it worked.
Maybe you could help me out with that, she said.
The first rule is that you sit with your own kind, Letitia said. Youre a top-level support staff. You sit with other executives assistants. You dont sit with rank-and-file secretaries. And you certainly dont sit with a security guard.
Though stung by the rebuff, Jillian refused to show it. Thats a stupid rule. Anyway, I want to sit with you. You seem like an intelligent and interesting person.
Oh, sit down. Jeez. Is that all youre gonna eat? Letitia had the remains of a chicken potpie in front of her. No wonder youre a size zero.
Oddly, when people said she was too thinsomething she heard all the time, although she was a perfectly healthy weightit hurt almost as much as being called Jillybean, the nickname shed endured in childhood. A size four was a long way from a zero but sometimes seemed threatening to certain women of more generous proportions.
Letitia, however, didnt appear to be malicious with her observation; she just called it how she saw it. Jillian set her tray down, claimed a chair and unwrapped her straw, placing it in her glass of iced tea.
So, hows your first day going? Letitia asked. Ready to throw in the towel?
Its not bad so far. Its hard work, but nothing I cant handle. Mr. Blakes job is interesting, so I think mine will be, too.
Huh. Does he make you bring him coffee?
I dont mind. When she got to know him better, she would request that he not order her around like a chambermaid. But she had a sneaking suspicion Conner was being a jerk on purpose. He wanted to see how easily she could be intimidated, how far he could push her before she either cracked or pushed back.
If a billionaire formerly on death row couldnt intimidate her, Conner certainly couldnt.
Hes got a hot man-booty. Letitia took a sip of her coffee, then added another packet of sugar. But I dont know whether I could put up with him just to enjoy a little eye candy.
Hes a nice-looking man, Jillian agreed blandly. What an understatement! Is he married?
No, not anymore. Letitia laughed. Can you imagine committing yourself to that for life? At least if youre an employee, you can walk away. No one was surprised when he got divorced.
Divorced? Jillian had guessed he wasnt married. He displayed no family photos on his desk, didnt wear a ring and hadnt mentioned a wife or kids. But she hadnt pegged him as divorced, either.
What happened there? she asked, going for broke. Why not? Ordinarily she wouldnt engage in idle gossip about her boss, but she was here to gather intelligence, right?
No one knows. Hes tight-lipped when it comes to his personal life. But my guess is, Chandra got tired of sitting at home waiting for him. First he was always traveling, then he was always here, works sixteen-hour days most of the time.
Chandra Mayall? That pushy, exotic creature whod barged into Conners office that morning was his ex-wife? Of course he would marry someone like that. Shed probably been a cheerleader in high school.
Yup. The bosss granddaughterand his sole heir, I might add.
Conner Blake must have looked like a good catch to Chandra. But Jillian agreed that eighty-hour workweeks werent conducive to a good marriage.
Hes young, Jillian said. I expect hell find someone else.
But not you, I hope, Letitia said. You wouldnt want to be hooking up with a murderer.
Hes not a murderer, Jillian said firmly, trying not to think too long and hard about how angry hed become when shed organized papers without his permission. And how he didnt want her to touch anything on his desk or in his office.
Hes got motive, Letitia said, warming up to her topic. Greg Tynes was having an affair with Chandra.
More gossip?
This I know for a fact. I saw them together. In the parking garage. Kissing.
This was good stuff! But Chandra is his ex. Why would he care?
Letitia gave her a look that told her exactly how naive her assumption was.
She shivered slightly. Was it possible? She could think of little nice to say about the man, but could he possibly be a murderer?
In high school, when his cruel prank was still fresh in her mind, shed envisioned all sorts of ways she might make Conner Blake pay for his crime. Her revenge fantasies had included such soap-operatic scenarios as transforming herself into a siren, tricking him into falling in love with her, then jilting him at the altar. Or waiting until he was running for congress, then revealing to the press what he had done to her just days before the election.
Shed grown up and realized how outlandish her fantasies had been, how improbable and immature. But never in her wildest imagination had she envisioned sending him up the river.
Now, that would be paybacksending Conner to prison. The thought brought her no satisfaction. He might be a despicable fathead, but could she really believe he was capable of taking a human life?
She didnt have to draw conclusions. She only had to report what she found out and Daniel would follow up. Tonights report would be a juicy one.
CHAPTER THREE
THE NEXT DAY, when Conner returned from lunch, he found a surprise sitting on his desk. Jillian had delivered a report based on the armload of trash hed shoved at her only yesterday. The papers were sorted into file folders, neatly stacked on his chair, and a printed reportcomplete with graphs, charts and a spreadsheetsat in the middle of his desk.
He was torn when it came to having an assistant. On one hand, he needed someone to keep him organized. Paperwork, scheduling, computers, meetingshe wasnt terribly good at any of it. But he hated having assistants underfoot. Give him a nice stand of oak trees and he could read them like a book. He could tell a trees health just by looking at the color and texture of the bark, the number of branches and how they grew, the gloss of the leaf.
Stick him behind a desk and he was close to useless.
His job performance as director of timber operations was only so-so. This company was only as good as the wood it harvested, and that harvest was only as good as the men and women out in the field finding the stands of trees, evaluating them, negotiating for the purchase and supervising the harvest. From his office he could give his buyers directions, look at photographs and approve purchases or not. But it drove him crazy not to have firsthand knowledge.
And the paperworkGod, how he hated paperwork. All the hoops they had to jump through to keep this certification or that one, proving they adhered to green policies, that they had performed all the correct environmental impact studies. Hed had no idea how hard his predecessors job was when hed accepted the promotion.
It was easy to blame Chandra, but deep down, Conner had no one but himself to hold responsible. He was the one whod been thinking with his privates, rather than his brain and his heart, when hed agreed to the corner office. Hed have done anything to keep Chandra happy.
In the end, though, his decision to settle down had backfired. Chandra had fallen in love with an adventurer and world traveler who brought home exotic presentscarved teak boxes, silks and Oriental rugs. Shed seen him as a modern-day Indiana Jones.
But shed grown weary of his constant travel and had begged her grandfather to promote him. Yes, because of Chandra, he had advanced in the company at lightning speed, bringing home ever-larger paychecks.
But an executive whod traded in his bullwhip for a smart phone didnt interest her any longer. The divorce had been executed with surgical precision. Conner had lost his wife, his home, his dog, his savings, and hed been left with a job he despised.
He wouldnt be here foreverthat was his only consolation. But leaving Stana man as dear to him as his own grandfatherin the middle of this hideous controversy over Gregs murder was unthinkable. With treatment, Stan might beat the cancer. But prison would kill him.
Conner simply couldnt abandon the sinking ship.
Hed met with Stans lawyer, who at Stans request had allowed him to go over the evidence collected by the police. One anomaly stood out to Conner right away. Stan wasnt strong enough to hoist two hundred pounds of deadweight into a car trunk. That was a point in Stans favor.
But Conner still had no clue who might have murdered Greg and framed Stan. Any one of the directors, looking to move up, could be responsible. All of them had been interviewed by the police, including Conner. In fact, theyd looked at Conner pretty closely, since he was Gregs immediate boss. But once theyd zeroed in on Stan, theyd abandoned all their other suspects.
Conner forced his attention back to his job, looking over Jillians report. Shed made a few errors, mostly little details that stemmed from a lack of familiarity with the lumber business rather than outright mistakes. He made some notations, then headed for her desk to return it to her.
Maybe hed finally found an assistant with half a brain who could get things back on track. Someone to whom he could actually delegate responsibilities.
He found her at her desk, shredding a stack of papers hed given her permission to dispose of.
You know, you dont have to do that yourself. Down on the first floor, theres a whole department devoted to managing waste and recycling. You just hand someone the papers and theyll take it from there.
I prefer to do this myself, she said, sending another stack of pages through the slot and pausing while the blades whined. That way, I know for sure it was done. In case a question ever comes up. I assume some of these numbers, the bids and such, are confidential.
Today she was wearing a slim black skirt and a short-sleeved, lime-green sweater that showed him more of her curves than hed seen on her first day. Her breasts were fuller than hed thought at first, and her waist was so narrow he could probably span it with his hands. Twenty-four inches, hed bet money on it. He had a lot of experience sizing up the circumference of trees.
Not that Jillians body looked anything like a tree trunk.
Is there anything else youd like me to work on?
He snapped back to his senses. He had no business thinking about Jillians waist, or any other part of her body for that matter.
Where did you learn to pull together a report like that? he asked, instead of answering her question.
I have a business administration degree from Dartmouth, she said. Is it satisfactory?
There are some mistakes, he said gruffly, plopping the report in front of her. Fix them and print it out again. He turned quickly and walked away before she could see his reaction to her.
Wow. He fell into his office chair and spun it around. Where had that come from? How long had it been since hed reacted to a woman like that?
No one since Chandra. Chandra, with her traffic-stopping body and long black hair and eyes like cut emeralds, just as sharp, too.
She did nothing for him now, especially since he knew everything about her was fake, from the hair extensions to the augmented breasts to the acrylic nails.
But it wasnt just her physical self that was insincere. She had lied without conscience, without a second thought, to get what she wanted. Shed perfected the fine art of saying exactly what a man wanted to hear, and hed fallen for it.
No reason to believe Jillian wasnt just the same. She was cut from the same clothrich, well educated, groomed to manipulate her way to become a rich mans wife someday.
To be fair, shed given no indication that she expected him to fill the role of her husband. Shed been nothing if not professional. Even a bit cool.
Which was odd.
Most women responded to him from ahormonal perspective. The nastier he was to them, the more they tried to win him over. It was the beauty-and-the-beast syndrome. They wanted to tame him.
But not Jillian. She didnt flutter eyelashes, or lean over so he could get an eyeful of her cleavage, or flip her hair or lick her lips. In fact, he suspected she might be sneering at him behind his back.
It shouldnt matter. She appeared to be qualified for her job, and that was the only important thing.
She still seemed familiar to him somehow. Who did she remind him of? If shed grown up wealthy in Houston, chances were good hed crossed paths with her at some pointa debutante ball, a charity event, even a high school football game. But surely if hed met her, hed remember her. Her looks werent forgettable.
Pushing thoughts of his new assistant out of his mind, he focused on his email. Great, just what he needed, another screwup with harvesting in East Texas. Unfortunately, Greg Tynes was involved. Dissatisfied with Gregs job performance abroad, Conner had brought him closer to home, but hed continued to make mistakes. Apparently he hadnt understood the protocol and had marked a snag that was a popular owl nesting site. Owls had to be protected not just because they were cute; they were essential to a healthy forest ecosystem.
Conner would have to go there, apologize for the actions of a dead man and smooth some feathers, perhaps literally. But he welcomed any excuse to spend time in the forest, even dealing with disasters.
He had so little time these days. He wondered briefly if he could delegate the trip, then shook his head. Who would he send? Jillian? She might be good with paperwork, but he had his doubts she could manage trees, owls and angry forest rangers.
No, hed have to go himself. But perhaps he would take Jillian with him. If she was going to stick around for any length of timeand he had to admit, she seemed a good fit for the jobhe might as well start teaching her about lumber so she could really be of service to him.
Conner exited his office and strode into Jillians area, standing above her desk until she looked up. She was in the process of entering the corrections for the report.
Ill need another twenty minutes for the revised report, she said.
Thats not why Im here. Were you apprised, when you took this job, that there might be some travel involved?
No, actually, I wasnt.