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.