While he read her résumé, Lauren let her gaze drift over the stately splendor of the immense office from which Philip Whitworth ruled his corporate empire. Then she studied him. For a man in his fifties, he was extremely attractive. Though his hair was silvering, his tanned face was relatively unlined, and there was no sign of excess weight on his tall, well-built body. Seated behind his huge, baronial desk in an impeccably tailored dark suit, he seemed surrounded by an aura of wealth and power, which Lauren reluctantly found impressive.
Seen now through the eyes of an adult, he didn't seem the cold, conceited snob she remembered. In fact, he seemed every inch a distinguished, elegant socialite. His attitude toward her was certainly courteous, and he had a sense of humor too. All things considered, Lauren couldn't help feeling that her prejudice against him all these years might have been unfair.
Philip Whitworth turned to the second page of her résumé, and Lauren caught herself up short. Exactly
why
was she
having this sudden change of heart about him, she wondered uncomfortably. True, he was being cordial and kind to her now—but why wouldn't he be? She was no longer a homely little nine-year-old; she was a young woman with a face and figure that made men turn and stare.
Had she really misjudged the Whitworths all those years ago? Or was she now letting herself
be
influenced by Philip Whitworth's obvious wealth and smooth sophistication?
"Although your university grades are outstanding, I hope you realize that your degree in music is of no value to the business world," he said.
Lauren instantly pulled her attention to the subject at hand. "I know that. I majored in music because I love it, but I realize there's no future in it for me." With quiet dignity she briefly explained her reasons for abandoning her career as a pianist, including her father's health and her family's financial circumstances.
Philip listened attentively,
then
glanced again at the résumé in his hand. "I noticed that you also took several business courses in college."
When he paused expectantly, Lauren began to believe he might actually be considering her for a job. "Actually, I'm only a few courses short of qualifying for a business degree."
"And while attending college, you worked after school and during the summers as a secretary," he continued thoughtfully. "Your father didn't mention that on the telephone. Are your shorthand and typing skills as excellent as your résumé claims?"
"Yes," Lauren said, but at the mention of her secretarial background her enthusiasm began to fade.
He relaxed in his chair and, after a moment's thought, seemed to come to a decision. "I can offer you a secretarial position, Lauren, one with challenge and responsibility. I can't offer you anything more than that unless you actually get your business degree."
"But I don't
want
to be a secretary," Lauren sighed.
A wry smile twisted his lips when he saw how discouraged she looked. "You said that your primary concern right now is money—and right now there happens to be a tremendous shortage of qualified, top-notch executive secretaries. Because of this they're in demand and very highly paid. My own secretary, for example, makes almost as much money as my middle-management executives."
"But even so…" Lauren started to protest.
Mr. Whitworth held up a hand to silence her. "Let me finish. You've been working for the president of a small manufacturing company. In a small company, everyone knows what everyone else is doing and why they're doing it. Unfortunately, in large corporations such as this one, only high-level executives and their secretaries are aware of the overall picture. May I give you an example of what I'm trying to say?"
Lauren nodded, and he continued. "Let's say you're an accountant in our radio division, and you're asked to prepare an analysis of the cost of each radio we produce. You spend weeks preparing the report without knowing
why
you're doing it. It could be because we're thinking of closing down our radio division; it could be because we're thinking of
expanding
our radio division; or it could be because we're planning an advertising campaign to help sell
more
radios. You don't know what we're planning to do and neither does your supervisor or his supervisor. The only people who are aware of that sort of confidential information are division managers, vice-presidents,
and
," he concluded with smiling emphasis, "their secretaries! If you start out as a secretary with us, you'll get a good overview of the corporation, and you'll be able to make an informed choice about your possible future career goals."
"Is there anything else I could do in a corporation such as yours that would pay as well as being a secretary?" Lauren asked.
"No," he said with quiet firmness. "Not until you get your business degree."
Inwardly Lauren sighed, but she knew she had no choice. She had to make as much money as she possibly could.
"Don't look so glum," he said, "the work won't be boring. Why, my own secretary knows more about our future plans than most of my executives do. Executive secretaries are privy to all sorts of highly confidential information. They're—"
He broke off, staring at Lauren in stunned silence, and when he spoke again there was a triumphant, calculating quality in his voice. "Executive secretaries are privy to highly confidential information," he repeated, an unexplainable smile dawning across his aristocratic features. "A secretary!" he whispered. "They would never suspect a secretary! They wouldn't even run a security check on one. Lauren," he said softly, his brown eyes gleaming like topaz, "I am about to make you a very unusual offer. Please don't argue about it until you hear me out completely. Now, what do you know about corporate or industrial spying?"
Lauren had the queasy feeling that she was hanging over the edge of a dangerous precipice.
"Enough to know that people have been sent to prison for it, and that I want absolutely nothing to do with it, Mr. Whitworth."
"Of course you don't," Philip said smoothly. "And please call me Philip; after all, we are related, and I've been calling you Lauren."
Uneasily, Lauren nodded.
"I'm not asking you to spy on another corporation, I'm asking you to spy on mine. Let me explain. In recent years, a company called Sinco has become our biggest competitor. Every time we bid on a contract, Sinco seems to know how much we're going to bid, and they bid just a fraction of a percent less. Somehow, they're finding out what we're putting into our sealed bids,
then
they cut the price of their bid so that it's slightly lower than ours and steal the contract from us.
"It just happened again today. There are only six men here who could have told Sinco the amount of our bid, and one of them must be a spy. I don't want to dismiss five loyal business executives just to rid myself of one greedy, treacherous man. But if Sinco continues to steal business from us this way, I'm going to have to begin laying people off," he continued. "I employ twelve thousand people, Lauren. Twelve thousand people depend on Whitworth Enterprises for their livelihoods. Twelve thousand families depend on this corporation so that they can have roofs over their heads and food on their tables. There's a chance you could help them keep their jobs and their homes. All I'm asking you to do is to apply for a secretarial position at Sinco today. God knows they'll need to increase their staff to handle the work they just stole from us. With your skills and experience, they'd probably consider you for a secretarial position with some high-level executive."
Against her better judgment, Lauren asked, "If I get the job, then what?"
"Then I'll give you the names of the six men who might possibly be the spy, and all you have to do is listen for mention of their names by anyone at Sinco."
He leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on his desk. "It's a long shot, Lauren, but frankly, I'm desperate enough to try anything. Now, here's my part of the bargain: I was planning to offer you a secretarial position with us at a very attractive salary…"
The figure he named amazed Lauren, and it showed. It was considerably more than her father had been making as a teacher. Why, if she lived frugally she could support her family and herself.
"I can see that you're pleased," Philip chuckled. "Wages in big cities like Detroit are very high compared to smaller places. Now, if you apply at Sinco this afternoon and they offer you a secretarial position, I want you to take it. If the salary there is lower than the one I just offered you, my company will write you a monthly check to make up the difference. If you are able to learn the name of our spy, or anything else of real value to me, I will pay you a bonus of $10,000. Six months from now, if you haven't been able to learn anything important, then you can resign from your job at Sinco and come to work as a secretary for us. As soon as you complete the courses for your business degree, I'll give you any other position here you want, providing of course that you can handle it." His brown eyes moved over her face, searching her troubled features. "Something is bothering you," he observed quietly. "What is it?"
"It
all
bothers me," Lauren admitted. "I don't like intrigue, Mr. Whitworth."
"Please call me Philip. At least do that much for me." With a tired sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "Lauren, I know I have absolutely no right to ask you to apply at Sinco. It may surprise you to learn that I'm aware of how unpleasant your visit with us fourteen years ago was. My son, Carter, was at a difficult age. My mother was obsessed with researching our family tree, and my wife and I… well, I'm sorry we weren't more cordial."
Under normal circumstances, Lauren would have turned him down. But her life was in a state of complete upheaval, and her financial responsibilities were staggering. She felt dazed, uncertain and incredibly burdened. "All right," she said slowly. "I'll do it."
"Good," Philip said promptly. Picking up his telephone he called Sinco's number, asked for the personnel manager, then handed Lauren the phone to make an appointment. Lauren's secret hope that Sinco might refuse to see her was instantly dashed. According to the man she spoke to, Sinco had just been awarded a large contract and was in immediate need of experienced secretaries. Since he was planning to work late that night, he instructed Lauren to come at once.
Afterward Philip stood up and put out his hand, clasping hers. "T
hank
you," he said simply. After a moment's thought, he added, "When you fill out their application form, give your home address in
"No," Lauren said quickly. "I wouldn't want to impose. I… I'd much rather stay in a motel."
"I don't blame you for feeling that way," he replied, making Lauren
feel
rude and ungracious, "but I would like to make up for that other visit."
Lauren succumbed to defeat. "Are you absolutely certain that Mrs. Whitworth won't object?"
"Carol will be delighted."
When the door closed behind Lauren, Philip Whitworth picked up his telephone and dialed a number that rang in his son's private office, just across the hall. "Carter," he said. "I think we're about to drive a spike into Nick Sinclair's armor. Do you remember Lauren Danner
… ?"
B
y the time
L
auren
arrived
at
S
inco's personnel office
it was after
While she filled out the endless forms and questionnaires required by Sinco, it occurred to her that the best way out of her predicament was to honor her promise to Philip by applying for a job—and then make absolutely certain that she wasn't offered one. Accordingly, she deliberately failed her spelling, typing and shorthand tests and omitted any mention of her college degree. But her crowning achievement was the way she answered the last question on her employment application. The instructions said to list in the order of preference three positions she felt she was qualified to fill at Sinco. Lauren had written "president" for her first choice, "personnel manager" for her second, and "secretary" for her third.
The real personnel manager, Mr. Weatherby, graded her tests, and his face registered horror as he did so. He put them aside and picked up her application, and she watched his gaze glide to the bottom of the last page, where she had listed, among her three choices, Mr. Weatherby's own job. When he read that his face suffused with angry color and his nostrils flared, and Lauren had to bite her trembling lower
Up
to hide her laughter. Maybe she
was
cut out for intrigue and subterfuge, she thought with an inward smile as he surged to his feet and coldly informed her that she did not meet Sinco's hiring standards for
any
position.