by Judith Stacy
“No, no, there’s no need to involve him. We can do it ourselves,” Caroline said. “Look how well we’re doing on the sitting room without him.”
Delfina blinked up at her. “Well, yes, I suppose we are, aren’t we.”
“Of course we are,” Caroline said. “Why don’t you think about which room in the house you’d like to use to make the presentation.”
“Yes, I can do that.” Delfina headed down the hallway with a little more purpose in her walk than usual.
Running footsteps sounded behind Caroline, and Joey shot past her and headed up the staircase. Brenna came out of the breakfast room, hurrying to catch up to him. She stopped when she saw Caroline, who noted she looked a bit weary.
“Brenna, I think you and Joey both need an outing,” she said.
“Probably,” she agreed. “But he’s a handful to take out these days. So much energy.”
“I’ll go with you.” Caroline said the words before she’d really thought them through. But once spoken, the idea actually sounded like fun. “Yes, I’ll go with you. Where would be fun to go?”
“Westlake Park is always nice. There’s a lake and boats, swans and ducks. They have concerts on Sunday afternoons. It’s very pretty there.”
“Good. Then we’ll go.”
She shook her head. “I have to ask Stephen first.”
Caroline had gone around him on all the other projects she’d involved herself in, but this one needed his permission. She wouldn’t do anything with Joey without Stephen knowing and approving.
“We’ll ask him today,” Caroline said. “Come down to his office this afternoon when Joey takes his nap.”
Brenna only had time to nod before she hurried up the stairs after Joey.
“Look it over. Tell me what you think.”
Stephen passed the Johannesburg report across the desk to Richard.
“Problems?” Richard asked.
“Problems.”
Monterey Enterprises had been involved in South Africa for nearly a decade now, chiefly in developing the infrastructure of Johannesburg and surrounding area. The corporation had interests in the country’s gold and diamond fields, as well. Mining was difficult and expensive there. Political and labor problems complicated operations.
And now there were problems with Clayton Girard. Stephen sat back in his chair. The man his uncle Colin had selected to oversee their holdings had become a complication himself, it seemed.
“I’ll look it over,” Richard said, and fanned the pages of Girard’s report.
“You know the situation over there as well as I do,” Stephen said. “Better, probably.”
“I’m heading over to the attorneys’ office now to get them going on the warehouse purchase,” Richard said, putting the report into his satchel. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Good. I want that deal wrapped up.” Stephen opened a ledger on top of his desk and leafed through the pages.
“How’s it going with Caroline?”
The top corner of a page ripped off in Stephen’s hand.
“You okay, Steve?” Richard asked.
He shoved the shredded page into the ledger and slammed it shut. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Richard rose from his chair. “So, what about Caroline?”
“Nothing is going on with her. Nothing.” He shoved the ledger aside.
“I meant, how is she coming on with the warehouse theft?”
“Oh.” Stephen shifted in his chair. “I don’t know. She’s been gone this morning.”
“Busy with the workmen,” Richard said. “Charles mentioned it when I came in.”
“Workmen? What workmen?” Stephen was a little annoyed that there were workmen in his house and he didn’t know it.
“They’re starting on the sitting room.” Richard smiled. “I guess your aunt made her decision without you.”
Aunt Delfi had begun work on the sitting room without consulting him? That was strange, but welcome news. She’d had his breakfast sent to him and refreshments served during his meeting with Dreshire and Morgan, too. He’d been surprised, and pleased, by her thoughtfulness. Maybe Aunt Delfi was pulling herself together at last.
“I’ll check with Caroline,” Richard said, gathering his things, “and see how she’s coming on the warehouse handwriting samples.”
“No,” Stephen said. “Just get to the attorneys. It’s more important.”
Richard stood at the edge of the desk. “Have you told Caroline why she’s really here? About Pickette?”
“No, and I’m not going to, either,” Stephen said.
Richard shook his head, registering his disapproval of Stephen’s decisions, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
When Richard left the office, Stephen opened another ledger but found he couldn’t concentrate. Something nagged at him and he wasn’t sure if it was the warehouse deal, the problem with Pickette…or the memory of his father. That, and all that came with it, never seemed to leave him alone.
But something else had him all riled up at the moment.
He and Richard seldom disagreed. It bothered him doubly that it was over Caroline.
Stephen wandered to the curio cabinet that displayed his collection of china figurines and music boxes, and peered inside. The collection always calmed him—flawless sculptures locked away in their perfect environment. He liked looking at them.
The figurine of the mother holding the baby in her arms caught his eye. It wasn’t his favorite piece. He liked the tiger best. But this morning, the mother and child demanded his attention. They looked peaceful, contented.
A little shriek and a wail of laughter came in through the window. Stephen turned to see Joey race across the lawn and climb into the swing that hung from one of the shade trees. He wiggled back and forth until Brenna caught up to him and got the swing going.
Stephen braced his arm against the windowsill, watching them. They looked peaceful and contented, too.
Caroline walked into his office. Stephen smelled the scent she gave off and knew she was there before she spoke a word. He turned around. So much for peace and contentment.
“Why don’t you go out and play with him?” Caroline asked, nodding through the window.
“Play with him? With Joey?” He’d never considered such a thing until Caroline had mentioned it to him once before. He gestured toward his desk. “Too much work.”
“And that’s close enough for you? Just watching out the window?” Caroline asked.
How did women come up with these strange questions? Where were their minds? He had a business to run, for heaven’s sake.
Stephen tapped his finger on the stack of papers on his desk. “I have work,” he said again.
She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but didn’t. Instead, she nodded toward the table in the corner.
“I have work, too,” she said.
“Good. Get on with it. I need an answer on those samples you’re going over.”
Caroline stopped and her chin went up. A little color touched her cheeks, and the urge to run over and kiss her surged through Stephen. Kiss her. Hold her. Run his hands over her—
“I’ll get right to it, master.” With a defiant little toss of her head, Caroline sat down at her table.
And for some inexplicable reason that made him want her even more.
She made a show of shuffling her papers, rearranging her magnifying glasses, scooting her chair up and back. Each movement called to Stephen, pulled at him, made his hands itch to touch her.
He gritted his teeth and flopped down in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he should go find himself a whore, as Richard suggested.
He looked at Caroline in her pretty pink dress, her hair done up properly, her graceful fingers holding her papers, and a whore didn’t seem all that appealing. A necessity, but not an appealing one. Of course, it wouldn’t take long. Not in his current condition.
Stephen grabbed another ledger f
rom the corner of his desk. No, he decided, he wasn’t going to let Caroline Sommerfield and her sweet little bottom sitting across the room from him drive him out of his own home. He had work to do. Important things to attend to. He’d simply concentrate on them and ignore her.
That decision made, he opened the ledger and began looking over the entries. But it did little to ease the ache in his chest, and nothing to relieve the pressure against his fly.
Chapter Twelve
Caroline put the finishing touches on her report, stacked the handwriting samples together and sat back in her chair.
Finished. Her first assignment as an honest-to-goodness working woman was complete.
What a tremendous sense of accomplishment she felt. Was this what men found when they worked? Was this what kept them at it?
Across the office, Stephen sat at his big desk, surrounded by important-looking reports, papers and ledgers. One day she’d have a desk of her own, Caroline thought. And a real office, too. Maybe even a secretary like Mr. Turley—well, not exactly like Mr. Turley—but a secretary just the same. The whole thing seemed terribly exciting.
Anxious to show Stephen that she’d completed her assignment—and found his warehouse thief—she walked to his desk. Richard had returned a short while ago and the two of them had been talking nonstop about business.
Mr. Turley had been in once, consulting with Stephen on something in a low voice. Caroline saw Mr. Turley rarely. He came and went like a phantom. Because he’d worked there for so long, and did his job so well, no one questioned him.
Caroline hadn’t realized that Monterey Enterprises dealt in so many different areas until she’d heard the men talking. Stephen owned a foundry and a paint manufacturing business here in Los Angeles, not to mention the warehouse complex. He also owned oil drilling rigs, a lumber company and a shipping line. All this in addition to the Johannesburg holdings. And that’s only what she’d overheard today.
All that made her handwriting analysis seem small by comparison, but didn’t diminish the pride she had in her accomplishment. She had to start somewhere, and she’d just done that.
The task had been small. Certainly there were more efficient and effective ways of determining who was responsible for the theft at Stephen’s warehouse. Though the Pinkerton detectives lacked vision, in Caroline’s opinion, they were very knowledgeable and capable. If put on the case they could have investigated, infiltrated the warehouse crew, traced the stolen goods, done any number of things.
But instead, Stephen had chosen to give her the job and she’d done it. Caroline approached his desk, anxious to give him the good news.
Richard interrupted their conversation. “Yes, Caroline?”
She held up her report. “I found your thief.”
Stephen looked up at her. “You’re kidding.”
“No,” she said, and presented him with her report. “One Mr. Rudy Acres is the culprit.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Richard said.
Stephen took the report and laid it aside, not bothering to look at it. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“As sure as the study of graphology allows me to be,” Caroline said. “Mr. Acres’s handwriting is very large, indicating self-absorption, concern only for himself. The straggling connections between letters shows his dislike for authority and rules. In general, your Mr. Acres is calculating and untrustworthy.”
“What about the others?” Stephen asked.
“The real concern about these men is their intelligence and education.” She waved the other samples she’d analyzed, still held in her hand. “Who hired these people?”
Richard coughed away a laugh.
Stephen cut his eyes toward her. “I did.”
She should have been embarrassed by her thoughtless remark, but instead the spark in Stephen’s eye caused something to flare inside her.
“In that case, Mr. Monterey, you needn’t worry about further thefts.” She slapped the samples down on his desk. “Because none of these men have sense enough to steal from you. I’m not sure how they even find their way to work every day.”
“I don’t require applicants for warehouse positions to write a review of the classics before I hire them,” Stephen told her.
“Lucky you don’t,” Caroline said, “or you’d be down there hauling crates around the warehouse yourself.”
“This is nothing you need to involve yourself in, Miss Sommerfield,” Stephen said.
Yes, she knew that. But somehow she couldn’t seem to keep from sinking elbow-deep into everything that concerned Stephen’s family, Stephen’s home, Stephen’s business…Stephen.
“You asked me to analyze the handwriting samples and give you a report,” Caroline said. “So there. That’s my report.”
“Thank you,” he said, though at the moment he didn’t seem thankful at all.
“You know, if your warehouse staff were more educated they could do a better job for you.” Caroline couldn’t stop herself. “You could promote men from within your organization, men who are already familiar with the operation. You could—”
“Thank you,” Stephen said, ending their conversation.
He turned back to Richard, leaving Caroline standing at the desk, her head buzzing with good ideas and no one to listen to them. How rude.
She was about to tell him just that when Brenna ventured into the office.
“Excuse me? May I speak with you, Mr. Monterey?”
Richard came out of his chair so quickly he nearly dumped the stack of papers in his lap onto the floor. He caught them in time and waved her inside.
“Come in, Miss Winslow,” he breathed.
Brenna didn’t wear a uniform like the rest of the servants, in an effort to soften her appearance for Joey’s sake. Today she had on a cream-colored dress that brought out the brown of her eyes.
“Is something wrong with Joey?” Stephen asked.
“Joey’s fine. He’s napping.” Brenna inclined her head toward Caroline. “We were wondering if we could take Joey for an outing to Westlake Park.”
Still seated at his desk, Stephen glared up at Caroline. “No,” he said, and turned back to his ledger.
Surprised by his quick answer, Brenna waited a moment before saying, “Well, thank you anyway, Mr. Monterey.”
Caroline had been stunned, too. But almost instantly, she became angry.
“Why not?” she asked.
Stephen didn’t bother to look up. “Because I said so.”
“That’s no reason.”
“I don’t have to give a reason.”
“Yes, you do.”
He looked up then. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do!” Caroline pointed at Brenna. “She is Joey’s nanny. If she thinks the child needs an outing, you should listen to her.”
The line of his mouth tightened. “I know what’s best for my nephew.”
“Oh!” Caroline clenched her hands into fists. “You’re so pigheaded!”
Stephen surged out of his chair. He snatched a sheet of paper off his desk. “Don’t try to use what you’ve seen in my handwriting against me.”
Caroline leaned closer to the desk. “I hardly need to look at your handwriting to know that.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Anyone who has spent more than five minutes with you can see how obstinate you are.”
“I am not obstinate.”
“Then give me a reason why we can’t take Joey for an outing,” Caroline demanded.
“He doesn’t need to go anywhere,” Stephen told her. “He has a huge yard to play in and a nursery full of toys. He has everything a child could want right here at home.”
Caroline fumed for a moment. “All right, give me another reason.”
“I can give you a dozen reasons,” Stephen told her. “But the most important one is that it’s not safe. Two women alone is the city is troubling enough, but two women with a small child is unthinkable. I won’t allow it.”
>
“You won’t let him go with us just because we’re women?” Caroline asked.
“Yes.”
Caroline’s shoulders stiffened. “For your information, Mr. Monterey, Brenna and I are more than capable of—”
“You’re not going,” Stephen said. “That’s final.”
“Have you forgotten where I used to live?” Caroline demanded. “I crossed the Atlantic Ocean aboard a ship—alone. I traveled across the entire United States of America—alone. I’m quite sure I can make it a few miles across town to Westlake Park.”
“I’m sure you can,” Stephen told her. “But you’re not doing it with my nephew.”
“You are pigheaded.” Caroline spun around, then looked back. “And that necktie looks terrible with your suit.”
Caroline marched out of his office. At the doorway she glanced back to see him frowning down at his necktie.
Caroline walked off most of her anger as she headed down the hallway to where Richard and Brenna stood. They’d discreetly left Stephen’s office when the shouting began.
While Caroline was still wound up, the two of them seemed to take the whole situation in stride.
“It’s all right, Caroline,” Brenna said. “I can keep Joey entertained here.”
“But that’s not the point.”
“You gave it a try,” Richard said. “Stephen’s not known for his flexibility.”
“Being obstinate and hardheaded are not qualities to be proud of,” Caroline said.
Richard grinned. “Stephen knows what he wants, and determination is required to get what you want in this world.”
“Pigheaded wretch…” Caroline mumbled. She drew in a deep breath, calming herself. “I’m quite determined myself.”
Richard chuckled. “This will be a battle of wills worth watching.”
He stood with them a moment longer, then finally, reluctantly, headed off down the hallway.
“Richard is a nice man,” Caroline said, releasing the last of her anger in a giant breath. She was always grateful for his presence. He had a calming effect on everything around him.
Brenna craned her neck, watching him disappear into Stephen’s office. “Yes…”
