Her eyes widen. “God, okay,” she says. “You don’t have to swear at me.”
Sighing, I open the door to my office and close it behind me. I’m really going to have to figure out what to do with Cara, I tell myself, but right now, I don’t want to think about it. Instead, I bury myself in foundation business, going over the quarterly report that I’m preparing for the board of directors’ meeting next week. At lunchtime, I have Cara call out for sandwich delivery and eat at my desk. The phone rings several times after lunch, and each time Cara picks it up before the third ring, so I count that as progress.
It’s mid-afternoon, and I’m just finishing up with the report when Cara buzzes me.
“It’s Rose Fowler here to see you,” she says.
Here? A little spike of apprehension shoots through me. Rose, for all her micromanaging, doesn’t usually bother to actually come into the office unless something’s wrong. I steel myself for a chewing out, wondering what I’ve done.
Seconds later, the door opens and Rose comes breezing through like a benevolent hurricane. As always, she is dressed impeccably, in an ice-blue classic skirt suit that matches her eyes and is perfectly tailored to her carefully-maintained figure. Her silvery hair is cut in a chic but severe-looking bob, with not a strand out of place.
“Marinda, how lovely to see you,” she drones as I rise. “Don’t bother getting up. I was just in the neighborhood, having lunch at Amuse with my future daughter-in-law Erica.”
I suppress a wave of sympathy for Erica as I try to imagine what it would be like to have Rose as a mother-in-law.
“It’s always a pleasure, Rose,” I say, easing back into my chair as she perches across from me. “Are you here just to check in… I mean, visit?”
“Well, for one, I wanted to show you the pair of earrings I’m donating for the charity auction next month.” She opens her Hermès purse and pulls out a small box, pushing it across the desk. I pick it up and open it. Inside is a gorgeous pair of emerald and diamond drop earrings that probably cost more than my annual salary. I swallow and push the box back toward her with a smile. “Very impressive. I’m sure they’ll bring a wonderful price for the foundation.”
“They ought to,” she says dryly. “They were a present from my late husband. An apology present.” Her mouth sets, but she doesn’t say more.
“I’m not sure we can keep these safe in the offices,” I falter, looking around the room. We don’t really have anyplace secure enough.”
“Of course not,” she scoffs. “I’ll keep them with me until the night of the auction.” She looks almost offended at the idea that her precious earrings would have to spend even one night in such a mundane setting.
Rose peppers me with questions about the arrangements for the charity auction, and I answer them all, even though I’m supposed to do exactly this at next week’s board meeting. In a way, it’s a relief, to have something concrete to talk about. For a woman whose entire life revolves around socializing, I find Rose incredibly hard to chitchat with. Finally, when I’ve answered everything to her satisfaction, she changes the subject, and I find out the real reason she’s stopped by to see me.
“Marinda. I have a project for you. A rather unusual one.”
One thing I’ve learned about Rose is that you don’t question anything she wants you to do — that is, if you want to keep your job. “Of course,” I say immediately. “What is it?”
“I’ve got a new PR and fundraising idea for us,” she beams. “It’s to help out a friend, but I think it will also end up being very advantageous to the foundation.”
“Great.” I make sure my voice is properly enthusiastic. “What’s the idea?”
“It’s a high-profile spokesperson. A football player, for the Springville Rockets. He needs a bit of an image makeover, frankly.” Her mouth morphs into a slightly disdainful frown. “I want to make him the public face of the Give A Wish Foundation. And I want you to make sure he doesn’t screw this up.”
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About Daphne Loveling
Daphne Loveling is a small-town girl who moved to the big city as a young adult in search of adventure. She lives in the American Midwest with her fabulous husband and the two cats who own them.
Someday, she hopes to retire to a sandy beach and continue writing with sand between her toes.
You can connect with Daphne on Twitter at @daphneloveling, on her Facebook personal page at https://www.facebook.com/daphnelovelingwrites or her author page at https://www.facebook.com/authordaphneloveling/
Her website is www.daphneloveling.com
Contact her via email at [email protected]
Books by Daphne Loveling
Motorcycle Club Romance
Los Perdidos MC
Fugitives MC
Throttle: A Stepbrother Romance
Rush: A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance
Crash: A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance
Ride: A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance
Stand: A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance
Sports Romance
Getting the Down
Paranormal Romance
Untamed Moon
Collections
Daphne’s Delights: The Paranormal Collection
Daphne’s Delights: The Billionaire Collection
To Mr. Loveling.
Copyright 2017 Daphne Loveling
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
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