Hidden Agenda. Kara Lennox
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I thought that house had a new roof put on right before you bought it.”
“Hail damage.”
“Have you filed an insurance claim?”
“Oh, you know how they are. They give you this big runaround, and the roof is leaking into the dining room. It has to be fixed now.”
“So because you don’t want to make a phone call, I’m out six thousand dollars? I don’t think so. I’ll call the insurance company. Then I want you to get at least two estimates.”
“Couldn’t you just write the check now, and we’ll work out the details later?”
“No. Nice try.”
“Our decree says you have to pay for necessary home repairs.”
“And I’ll write a check directly to the roofer. Now, is there anything else?”
She debated a few moments before leaning on his desk, giving him an eyeful of cleavage. “Conner, I’m desperate. It’s my butt.”
“Wh— Excuse me?” That got his attention.
“It’s fallen. I’m going to Cancun over Christmas, and I tried on my bikini this morning and my butt looks atrocious. It needs a lift.”
Conner laughed. “Are you out of your mind? I’m not paying for your plastic surgery. Besides, if you keep going under the knife, you’re going to end up looking like a freak.”
“Conner. It’s not funny.”
“No, Chandra. Not a chance.”
She seemed to deflate. “It was worth a shot. Guess I’ll have to do more Pilates.”
He softened his voice. “How’s Stan?” Whenever Chandra was sad or worried, she turned to “fixing” herself as her own brand of therapy. She was obviously upset about her grandfather’s situation.
“He’s terrible, Conner. I’m so afraid. I wish there was something more we could do. The lawyer thinks no jury will convict him. But his health…”
“I know. He’s a tough old bird, though. He’ll pull through.”
“He better. I’m not ready for him to go.”
Chandra might be shallow and self-absorbed, but one thing Conner was sure of—she loved her grandfather. He summoned a smile for her, then stood and walked her to the door. “Your butt looks fine, you know.”
She sighed. “How would you know? You don’t even look at my butt anymore.” She air kissed him. “Ciao, darling.” When she opened the door, Ham was standing outside, just about to knock.
“Oh, hi, Chandra. You look stunning, as usual.”
“Aren’t you a sweetie.” She gave him an air kiss, too. “Give my best to Beatrice.” Both men watched her strut toward the elevators.
Ham shook his head. “Tell me again why you divorced her?”
Conner laughed. “You know why.” They both stepped back into his office.
Ham used to drop into Conner’s office almost every morning with a new joke or a funny story about his wife. Conner had enjoyed their conversations. But ever since Ham had taken over Stan’s job, he seemed rushed and harried. With two jobs to perform, he had no time for idle chitchat.
He must really need that report. “I’m working on the report today, I swear.”
“I didn’t come here to harass you. How’s the new secretary working out?” Ham asked as he eased himself into his favorite wingback chair. “Is she as useless as she looks?”
“She can pour coffee, at least.” Conner took a sip from his mug. It was cooling off. “I don’t understand why Joyce keeps pitching these pretty bits of empty-headed fluff at me, expecting things to work out.”
This one was worse than all the others put together.
“What was her name again?” Ham asked. “Hilary, Julia…”
“Something like that. Joyce claims this one has impeccable credentials—she was an assistant to some oil company exec. But I could tell with one look she’s never worked a hard day in her life.”
“You need someone with brains and maturity.”
“Or at least one who wears sensible shoes,” Conner grumbled.
“Why didn’t Joyce promote someone from within the company? At least she would know something about the lumber business.”
Conner raised an eyebrow. “Oddly, not a single employee applied for the opening.”
Ham laughed. “Whose fault is that? Your reputation has spread far and wide.”
“I’m not that bad. I just have a low tolerance for stupidity.” He stood and stretched, then walked to the far end of his office to gaze at one of his favorite paintings, a forest scene by a Russian artist. “How does she keep from breaking an ankle, tottering around on those ridiculous shoes?” Those stilettos made her legs look a mile long, but that shouldn’t be the aim in a work situation.
It wasn’t just her shoes. The suit she’d worn that first day had cost more than his, he was pretty sure. Three years of marriage to Chandra—not to mention growing up with his mother—had taught him to recognize Chanel when he saw it. Then there was the haircut. Hilary-Julia—whatever hadn’t gotten that style, or the subtle blond streaks, from a strip mall beauty shop. He pictured her lying back in a fancy salon chair while someone named Marcel shampooed her hair, digging his fingers into the thick, mock-gold strands, her head tipped back, creamy throat exposed….
Good God, where had that come from? He’d been too long without a woman, he supposed, but not many women wanted to spend time with him these days. He was too surly, too impatient.
“Give the girl a chance,” Ham said.
“I give her three days. She’ll either prove herself completely incompetent, or do something so thoroughly boneheaded that I’ll be forced to fire her.” He sighed. “I hope this one doesn’t cry.”
“Of course she’ll cry. They all cry. Besides, you’re a beast.”
“I’d be a lot nicer if I could get out of this damned office once in a while.”
“Back to your beloved trees.”
“Yeah.” God, he missed the trees. At night Conner dreamed about the forest, imagined himself in a hammock slung between two ancient tree trunks, the stillness and utter darkness all around him punctuated only by the periodic chatter or cry of nocturnal creatures. And during the day, he plotted how he would get back there.
“Well, I can help with that,” Ham said, coming to stand beside Conner and gaze at the painting. “There’s a forest sustainability conference in Jakarta next month. I want you to go.”
Obviously Ham expected Conner to be pleased about the junket. But trading in his office for a hotel conference room wasn’t high on his priority list.
“I’m not sure I can afford to take time away,” Conner said. “This situation with Stan…”
“It’s just three days, and it’s vital that Mayall Lumber attend. You should also check on Will Nashiki while you’re there, see how he’s coming along with the job in North Sumatra.”
A couple of days in the Sumatran rainforest? Conner could feel a grin spreading across his face. “Why didn’t you say that to begin with? Of course I’ll go.” Maybe, just maybe, things would be more settled by next month and he could stay in the field longer than a weekend. Nashiki would appreciate a chance to go home, spend time with his family. “If you’re sure you can spare me.”
“It’ll be tough, but I’ll manage,” Ham said, tongue firmly in