afternoon, MacKade law offices.” Sissy Bleaker, Jared’s secretary, answered the phone on the fly. It was quarter to five, she had a hot date in exactly one hour, and the boss had been like a bear with a sore tooth all day. “Oh, yes, hello, Mr. Brill. No, Mr. MacKade is in conference.”
Sissy could have spit nails when the front door opened. How the devil was she supposed to look irresistibly sexy in an hour if she couldn’t get out of here?
“I’ll be happy to take a message.” As she picked up a pad, she glanced up. And decided she could have a week at her disposal and not pull off the kind of in-your-face sexy that had just walked into Jared MacKade’s outer office.
Savannah hated being here. She hated that she’d feltobliged to change out of jeans into pleated trousers and a jacket. Something about visiting official places compelled her to put on a front.
And this place certainly looked official. The pretty plants and bland pastel paintings on matte-white walls didn’t hide the fact that law was the order here. The carpet was a muted gray, the deeper-toned chairs in the waiting area were likely just the wrong side of comfortable.
We wouldn’t want people to be at their ease now, would we? she thought bitterly.
She’d never known a den of authority—social services, a principal’s office, an unemployment line—to offer comfort. Still, she’d thought the man had more style than to choose such a cold, formal setting for his work.
The secretary behind the polished reception-area desk was young, bright-eyed and, Savannah was sure, fiercely efficient. The quick greeting smile she sent in Savannah’s direction was carefully empty of curiosity and perfectly balanced between warm and cool.
Savannah had no idea Sissy was curdling with envy inside.
“Yes, Mr. Brill, I’ll see that he gets your message. You’re welcome. Goodbye.” Wondering just where the mystery visitor had come across that terrific jacket, all sweeping lines and bold colors, Sissy hung up the phone and aimed her most professional smile.
“Good afternoon. May I help you?”
“I’d like to see Mr. MacKade.”
“Do you have an appointment?” Sissy knew very well she did not. Jared’s schedule was filed in her brain right alongside her own.
“No, I was…” Damn, she hated this. “I was in town, and I thought I’d take a chance he’d be free for a minute.”
“I’m afraid he’s in conference, Ms….”
“Morningstar.” Of course he was in conference, Savannah thought nastily. Where else was a lawyer when he wasn’t on the putting green but in conference? “Then I’d like to leave a message.”
The name Morningstar rang all sorts of bells in Sissy’s brain. It had been said through gritted teeth that morning, when Jared dictated a briskly formal letter with all kinds of interesting hums between the lines.
“Certainly. If it’s personal, you could write it down and I’ll… Oh.” Sissy beamed at her phone. “Mr. MacKade’s just finished his conference call, I see. Why don’t I buzz him, see if he can squeeze you in?”
“Fine, great.” Restless, Savannah turned away to pace.
Sissy decided that if she grew six inches in height, filled out several more in the right places, she might just look that impressive on the move.
“Mr. MacKade, there’s a Ms. Morningstar to see you, if you have a moment. Yes, sir, she’s in the office now. Yes, sir.” Careful to keep her lips from sliding into a smile, Sissy hung up the phone. “He’ll see you, Ms. Morningstar. It’s right up those stairs and to the left. First door.”
“Thanks.” Savannah turned toward the short curve of stairs, put one hand on the pristine white rail and climbed.
Must have been a town house at one time, she decided. Or a duplex. Though she wouldn’t have called the place homey, Savannah admitted it had class—if you went in for snooty and nondescript.
There was a short hallway at the top of the steps, a print of a spray of
Sissy could have spit nails when the front door opened. How the devil was she supposed to look irresistibly sexy in an hour if she couldn’t get out of here?
“I’ll be happy to take a message.” As she picked up a pad, she glanced up. And decided she could have a week at her disposal and not pull off the kind of in-your-face sexy that had just walked into Jared MacKade’s outer office.
Savannah hated being here. She hated that she’d feltobliged to change out of jeans into pleated trousers and a jacket. Something about visiting official places compelled her to put on a front.
And this place certainly looked official. The pretty plants and bland pastel paintings on matte-white walls didn’t hide the fact that law was the order here. The carpet was a muted gray, the deeper-toned chairs in the waiting area were likely just the wrong side of comfortable.
We wouldn’t want people to be at their ease now, would we? she thought bitterly.
She’d never known a den of authority—social services, a principal’s office, an unemployment line—to offer comfort. Still, she’d thought the man had more style than to choose such a cold, formal setting for his work.
The secretary behind the polished reception-area desk was young, bright-eyed and, Savannah was sure, fiercely efficient. The quick greeting smile she sent in Savannah’s direction was carefully empty of curiosity and perfectly balanced between warm and cool.
Savannah had no idea Sissy was curdling with envy inside.
“Yes, Mr. Brill, I’ll see that he gets your message. You’re welcome. Goodbye.” Wondering just where the mystery visitor had come across that terrific jacket, all sweeping lines and bold colors, Sissy hung up the phone and aimed her most professional smile.
“Good afternoon. May I help you?”
“I’d like to see Mr. MacKade.”
“Do you have an appointment?” Sissy knew very well she did not. Jared’s schedule was filed in her brain right alongside her own.
“No, I was…” Damn, she hated this. “I was in town, and I thought I’d take a chance he’d be free for a minute.”
“I’m afraid he’s in conference, Ms….”
“Morningstar.” Of course he was in conference, Savannah thought nastily. Where else was a lawyer when he wasn’t on the putting green but in conference? “Then I’d like to leave a message.”
The name Morningstar rang all sorts of bells in Sissy’s brain. It had been said through gritted teeth that morning, when Jared dictated a briskly formal letter with all kinds of interesting hums between the lines.
“Certainly. If it’s personal, you could write it down and I’ll… Oh.” Sissy beamed at her phone. “Mr. MacKade’s just finished his conference call, I see. Why don’t I buzz him, see if he can squeeze you in?”
“Fine, great.” Restless, Savannah turned away to pace.
Sissy decided that if she grew six inches in height, filled out several more in the right places, she might just look that impressive on the move.
“Mr. MacKade, there’s a Ms. Morningstar to see you, if you have a moment. Yes, sir, she’s in the office now. Yes, sir.” Careful to keep her lips from sliding into a smile, Sissy hung up the phone. “He’ll see you, Ms. Morningstar. It’s right up those stairs and to the left. First door.”
“Thanks.” Savannah turned toward the short curve of stairs, put one hand on the pristine white rail and climbed.
Must have been a town house at one time, she decided. Or a duplex. Though she wouldn’t have called the place homey, Savannah admitted it had class—if you went in for snooty and nondescript.
There was a short hallway at the top of the steps, a print of a spray of
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