“Sorry, but I’m seriously contemplating marriage.”
“Only Jim doesn’t know it yet,” Maureen piped in. Everyone laughed.
“But what has all this got to do with me?’’
“You’re perfect for Jonas Lockwood—just the type of woman he needs.”
“Just the heroine type. Attractive and bright.”
“Spunky,” Jan tossed in.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Stephanie protested. “I don’t even like the man.”
“That’s all the better. The heroines in the romances seldom do, either.”
“I think you ladies are confusing fantasy with reality.”
“Of course we are. That’s the fun of it. We’re all incurable romantics, and when we see a romance in the making it’s simply part of our nature to want to step in and help things along.”
“We’ve even thought about writing one,” Toni informed her.
“But why me?”
“You’re perfect for Mr. Lockwood, in addition to being exceptionally attractive.”
“Thanks, but...”
“And you don’t seem to lord it over those of us who aren’t,” Barbara murmured.
“But that doesn’t explain why you chose me to weave your plot around.”
“Mr. Lockwood likes you.”
“Oh, hardly—”
“All right, he respects you. We all noticed that this afternoon when you left for the meeting. He wouldn’t take you along if he didn’t value your opinion.’’
Choking on a mouthful of wine, Stephanie shook her head wildly. “Do you know what he said? A man commented on what an attractive secretary he had, and your hero Lockwood told him I was a substitute, as though he’d had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to come up with me.” Finding the situation unbelievably hysterical now, Stephanie giggled. It took her a moment to notice that the other four were strangely quiet.
“What do you think, Maureen?” Jan looked at the redhead.
“I’d stay he has definitely noticed her. He’s fighting it already.”
“Ladies, ladies, you’ve got this blown out of all proportion.”
“I don’t think so.” Jan reached for her purse, and withdrew a copy of Stephanie’s employment application. “I did a bit of checking here. You had two employers in the two years before you came to us. Right?”
“Right.” Stephanie’s hand folded around her wineglass as she shifted uncomfortably.
“Why?”
“Well.” She paused to clear her throat. “I’ve had some problems with the men I’ve worked with.”
“What kind of problems?”
“You know.” She waved her hand.
“Men making advances?” Toni, the quiet one, suggested.
“More than that. They all seemed to require more than secretarial duties of me, if you get my meaning.”
“We do,” Jan said.
“Trust me, ladies, it wasn’t romance my former bosses had in mind.” Just thinking of those stress-filled days produced an involuntary grimace.
“What did you do?”
“The only thing I could. I quit.”
“Yes, she’s heroine material all right,” Toni said with a curt nod.
Unable to hold back a laugh, Stephanie added, “You ladies don’t honestly believe all this, do you?”
“You bet we do,” all four concurred.
“But why would it matter to you if Jonas Lockwood is married or not? Maybe he’s utterly content being single. Marriage isn’t for everyone.”
Jan answered first. “As I explained, we’re all incurable romantics. We’ve worked for Mr. Lockwood a lot longer than you. He needs a wife, only he doesn’t realize it. But we’re doing this for selfish reasons, too. It would help the situation at work for us all if Mr. Lockwood had a family of his own.”
“Family?” Stephanie nearly choked on her wine. “First you have me falling in love with him, then we get married, and now I’m bearing his children.” This conversation was going from the sublime to the ridiculous. To be honest, she was half-tempted to practice her feminine wiles on Jonas Lockwood, just for the pleasure of seeing if the mighty man would crumble at her feet. Then she would have the ultimate pleasure of snubbing him and walking away. But this clearly wasn’t what Jan and friends had in mind.
“You see,” Barbara inserted, “we feel that Mr. Lockwood would be more agreeable to certain employee benefits if he walked in our shoes for a while.’’
Dumbfounded, Stephanie shook her head. These ladies were actually serious. “I think a union would be the more appropriate way to deal with this.”
“There isn’t one. So we’re creating our own—of sorts.”
Stephanie still didn’t understand. “What kind of benefits?”
“More lenient rules regarding maternity leave.”
“Extra days off at Christmas.”
“Increased health benefits to include family members.”
Lifting the blond curls off her forehead, Stephanie looked around the table at the four intense faces studying her. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”
“Completely.”
“Utterly.”
“We mean business.”
“Indeed.” Jan raised her hand and called for the waitress, ordering another round.
“I’m really sorry, ladies, but I’m not heroine material.” The waitress delivered another round of wine coolers and Stephanie waited until the woman had finished. “A man like Jonas Lockwood needs a woman far less opinionated than me. In two days, we barely said a civil word to each other.”
“The woman who loves him will need a strong personality.”
“She’d needmore than that.” Stephanie couldn’t imagine any woman capable of tearing down Jonas Lockwood’s icy facade. He was too hard, too cold, too unapproachable.
“Say, I didn’t know you spoke French.” Jan glanced up from Stephanie’s application, her eyes growing larger by the minute. “Do you, Steph?”
“My grandmother was French. She insisted I learn.”
“Then you’re bilingual?”
“Right.”
All four women paused, regarding Stephanie as though she had suddenly turned into an alien from outer space. “Hey, why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason.” Barbara lowered her head, apparently finding the maraschino cherry floating in her drink overwhelmingly interesting.
“So your grandmother was French?” Toni asked, doing her best to hide a smile.
“Why do I have the feeling that you four have something dangerously powerful up your sleeves?” Stephanie glanced from one grinning face to the other.
“What does the fact that I speak French fluently have to do with anything?”
“You’ll see.”
“I don’t like the sounds of this,” Stephanie muttered.
“What do you think of our idea?” Barbara asked bravely.
“You mean about finding a woman for Mr. Lockwood?”
The four nodded, watching her expectantly.
“Great. As long as that woman isn’t me.”
“I think it’s fate,” Jan added. “This couldn’t be turning out any better than if we’d planned it.”
“Planned what?”
“You’ll see,” all four echoed.
Monday morning, Stephanie arrived for work early. She’d spent a peaceful weekend, planting a small herb garden in narrow redwood planters and placing them on her patio. Living in a small apartment didn’t leave much room for her to practice her gardening skills. The year before, she’d rented a garden space through the parks department. This year, she’d decided to try her green thumb on herbs.
Jan was at her desk when Stephanie arrived at coffee-break time. As much as possible, Stephanie had tried to blot out Friday evening’s conversation with Jan and her friends. It appeared that the four had some hideous plot in mind. But she’d quickly squelched that. Even imagining Jonas Lockwood in love was enough to amuse her. It’d never happen. The man had no emotions. That wasn’t blood that ran through his veins—it was ink from profit-and-loss statements. He wasn’t like ordinary humans.
“Oh, I’m glad you’re here,” Jan murmured.
“You are?” Already Stephanie was leery. “Ms. Westheimer’s fully recovered, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s here. At least, I assume she is. I haven’t heard any rumblings from above.”
Stephanie felt a sense of relief. The less she saw of Jonas Lockwood, the better.
“I’ve made arrangements with your boss for you to be gone next week.”
“Arrangements?” Stephanie repeated surprised. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you want to get together at lunch?” Jan asked, ignoring Stephanie’s question.
“Jan, what’s going on?”
“You’ll see.”
“Jan!”
“I’ll talk to you later.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d tell you, honest, but I can’t... yet.”
Disgruntled, Stephanie returned to her office, pausing on the way to question Maureen, who gave her a look of pure innocence. Stephanie didn’t know what the two had up their sleeves, but she knew it involved Jonas Lockwood.
The remainder of the morning ran so smoothly that Stephanie was surprised to note that it was lunchtime. She was convinced that working for anyone other than Jonas Lockwood would be a breeze. Mr. Potter, her grandfatherly boss, was patient and undemanding, a pleasant change from the man who barked orders at her as though she were a robot. And Mr. Potter was free with his praise and approval of her efforts. Getting a compliment from Jonas Lockwood was like pulling teeth.
Her lunch was spent with Jan, Maureen and the two others she’d met Friday evening, so there wasn’t an opportunity to corner Jan and ask her to explain her comment about finding a replacement for her the following week.
The ladies were all a fun-loving group, quick-witted and personable. Stephanie was relieved when no mention of their infamous employer entered the conversation; in fact, she was more than grateful. Despite all her claims to the contrary, Stephanie had been thinking a lot about Jonas.
On her way back to her office, Stephanie happened to run into the big boss himself. She was waiting for the elevator, checking her makeup with a small hand mirror. The elevator came to a halt, and its wide doors opened. Stephanie came eye-to-eye with her former boss.
“Good day, Miss Coulter.”
Stephanie didn’t lower the tube of lipstick, her mouth gaping open as she prepared to glide the color across her bottom lip. She was too stunned to move.
“Are you or are you not taking the elevator?”
“Oh, yes,” she mumbled, hurrying in next to him. She quickly stuck her mirror and lipstick inside her purse, pressing her lips together to even out the pale summer-rose color.
Jonas placed both hands on his cane. “And how are you doing, Miss Coulter?”
“Exceptionally well. Everyone I’ve worked with
lately
has appreciated my efforts.”
“Perhaps your skills have improved.”
If it hadn’t been such a drastic idea, Stephanie would have kicked the cane out of his hand. The man was unbearable. “As you suggest,” she said with a false sweetness in her voice, “things have definitely improved.”
His mouth quirked upwards in something resembling a smile. “I admit to missing your quick wit. Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to exchange insults again sometime soon.”
A joke from Jonas Lockwood—all right, an almost joke. Stephanie couldn’t believe it.
“Don’t count on it.” The elevator came to a grinding halt, and the door swooshed open. “Perhaps in another lifetime, Mr. Lockwood.”
“You disappoint me, Miss Coulter. I’d looked forward to next week.” The doors glided shut.
Next week.
Once again those words had been tossed in her direction. She’d let Jan get away without telling her at lunch, but she wasn’t waiting another minute. She hurried down the hall to Jan’s office.
“All right, explain yourself,” she demanded, placing both hands on the edge of her friend’s desk.
“About what?” Jan was the picture of innocence, which was a sure sign the woman was up to something.
“I just saw Mr. Lockwood, and he said something about next week. I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you, didn’t I?”
“Tell me what?” Stephanie straightened; a strange sensation, akin to dread, shot up and down her spine.
“Mr. Lockwood’s traveling to Paris on business.”
Crossing her arms, Stephanie glared at Jan suspiciously. “That’s nice.”
“The interesting part is that he requires a bilingual secretary to accompany him.”
Knowing what was coming, Stephanie tightened her jaw until her teeth ached. “You couldn’t possibly mean...”
“When Mr. Lockwood first approached personnel, we didn’t have anyone on file who spoke French, but since that time I’ve gone through the applications and found yours.”
“Jan, I refuse to go. The man and I don’t get along.”
“When I mentioned you to Mr. Lockwood, he was delighted.”
“I’ll just bet.”
“Your flight leaves early Monday morning.”
Chapter Three
The jet tilted its wings to the right, aligning its narrow bulk with the smooth runway before beginning its descent. Stephanie stared out the small window, fascinated by the breathtaking view of the River Seine far below. Her heart pounded with excitement. Paris. How her grandmother would have envied her. As a young French war bride, Stephanie’s grandmother had often longed to revisit the charming French city. Now Stephanie would see it for her.
“If you would tear your gaze from the window a minute, Miss Coulter, we could get some work done,” Jonas Lockwood stated sarcastically.
“Of course.” Instantly she was all business, reaching for her steno pad. This was the only level on which she could communicate with Jonas. Not once since they’d taken off from Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport had her employer taken note of the spectacular scenery. No doubt he would have considered it a waste of valuable time.
“I’ve ordered us a three-bedroom suite at the Chateau Frontenac,” he informed her coolly.
Stephanie silently repeated the name of the hotel. “It sounds lovely.”
Jonas glanced down at the paper in his lap and shrugged one muscular shoulder. “I suppose.”
It was all Stephanie could do not to shout at him to open his eyes and look at the beauty of the world that surrounded him. At times like these, she wanted to shake Jonas. The mere thought of even touching the stone man produced an involuntary smile. He’d hate being touched.
The middle-aged man Stephanie had met that first morning, Adam Holmes, had accompanied them. He’d been properly introduced, but the role he was to perform in the transaction was left to conjecture. Stephanie guessed that Adam was an attorney.