The Fatal Fortune Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Have I been so obvious?”
    “Just a tad, but I won’t tell. Evelyn Pemberton types seventy-five words a minute. Flawlessly. I tested her on your machine.”
    “Okay, Trina. Set up an appointment with her for me.” Guinevere leaned forward to study her calendar. “How about on my lunch hour tomorrow?”
    “I already have,” Trina informed her blandly. “I made one for her with Zac for the day after tomorrow.”
    “You’re that sure?”
    “I’m positive this is the one you’ve been looking for, Gwen. Take my word for it. But you know, you’ve been worrying needlessly about putting temptation in Zac’s office. I’ve seen the way that man looks at you. He’s got a one-track mind, and that applies to his love life, as well as everything else. You’re the only woman on the track.”
    Guinevere sighed. “I just want to make sure it stays that way.”
    ***
    That night after dinner Guinevere told Zac she thought his opening for a secretary was about to be filled. It gave her a marvelou s ly self-righteous feeling to be able to say that Trina Hood had found the likely candidate. This way Zac couldn’t accuse her of being too picky. Curled up beside him on the black leather couch in her brightly colored apartment, Guinevere sipped a small glass of brandy and told him about Evelyn Pemberton.
    “Trina said she sounds perfect. Types seventy-five words a minute and is very poised. I’m going to meet her tomorrow. If everything clicks, I’ll send her over for you to interview the next day. How’s that?”
    Zac cradled her against his shoulder, his fingertips resting lightly over the small curve of her breast. “It’s about time. What took you so long? You’ve got dozens of secretaries, who probably all want to go to work full time for a great employer like me.”
    “I wanted someone very special for you, Zac,” she told him sweetly.
    “I’ll bet. A nice, robust, grandmotherly type, right? Has it taken you this long to find someone gray-haired and over fifty?”
    Guinevere blinked. “Now, Zac . . .”
    He grinned and pulled her closer. “It’s all right. I understand completely. Besides, I’ve always had a thing for older women.”
    “Zachariah Justis!”
    He tightened his grip as she indignantly tried to pull away. “Calm down. You didn’t have to worry, you know. It wears me out just keeping up with you. I wouldn’t have the energy to make it with my secretary even if she looked like a
Playboy
centerfold.”
    “Hah. That’s what they all say.”
    To Guinevere’s surprise, Zac took the remark seriously. “Who all says that? The guy who got off the elevator with you, maybe? I could see him having an affair with his secretary, while his wife waits at home. He looks the type.”
    In spite of Zac’s enveloping warmth, a tiny shiver went through Guinevere. She suppressed it almost at once, but she was afraid Zac might have sensed it. “I was making a generalization,” she said with a deliberate smile.
    “Who is he?”
    “The man on the elevator with me? His name is Rick Overstreet. I told you, he works at Gage and Watson. Want some more brandy?”
    “No.”
    Zac hesitated, and Guinevere held her breath, afraid he was going to ask more questions. But his strong, blunt fingers slipped inside the collar of her blouse instead.
    “No,” Zac repeated, his voice darkening, as he began to unbutton the blouse. “What I really want at the moment is you.”
    Guinevere shivered again, but not from the tension connected with Rick Overstreet’s name. This time it was strictly a result of the excitement that flared when Zac touched her.
    “Zac,” she whispered, eyes luminous, as he slipped the blouse off her shoulders.
    “Come here,” he murmured. “Give me something to think about besides my new secretary.”
    Guinevere sighed softly and went into his arms with the hot, exciting sense of abandon that always swept over her when Zac made love to her. Locked safely in his massive embrace, she gave