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  “Spare me,” Riley said. “Olivia is a complete vacuum, which was okay when I first started watching her, but it’s been three years now and she’s still dumb as a rock, going to the same stupid, noisy places, falling into bed with the same moronic guys, which wouldn’t bother me except that then I end up listening to them when I eavesdrop, and sooner or later I’m going to kill one of them just to shut him up.”

  “Never thought I’d see the day,” Gabe said.

  “What?”

  “You’re maturing. Way to go.”

  “Never say that,” Riley said, and got up to make his escape before Gabe could accuse him of adulthood.

  When Riley was gone, Gabe tried to concentrate on the reports in front of him, but Riley was right. Nell kept intruding, the same way she kept barging into his office and his life: abrupt and defiant and maddeningly efficient, snapping back up at him whenever he tried to put her down. She couldn’t have been more different from Chloe if she’d tried, but Chloe had never lurked in his subconscious. Chloe had always just been there, warm and loving and sure, part of the wallpaper of his life. She’d known what she’d been talking about when she said they both deserved better. She had certainly deserved better.

  He shook his head at his own obtuseness and resolved to be better to Chloe when she came back, if she ever came back; her last postcard had been from Bulgaria. That filed neatly away, he ignored Nell—standing in the center of his mind in her red T-shirt with her hands on her hips—and went back to business. Maybe he should call Trevor, see if he could worm out of him exactly what he was worried about with Olivia. That would make Riley’s life easier. Maybe he could also worm out of him whatever the hell Lynnie had been blackmailing him for. He needed his appointments for tomorrow, too; and Harold was going to need extra time since the Hot Lunch had taken a turn for the different, so better tell Nell—

  Nell knocked on the door and came in, carrying papers and a blue folder.

  “About tomorrow,” Gabe said, trying not to look at her red silk T-shirt. Unfortunately looking down gave him her legs. She had phenomenal legs.

  “Here’s your schedule,” Nell said, putting it in front of him. “I’ve given you extra time at lunch with Harold. He seemed a little upset when I talked to him.”

  “He’s married to Gina. That would upset any man.” He frowned at her, realizing what she’d just said. “What do you mean, you talked to him?”

  “He called back. You were on the phone with Becca.”

  “Right. Which reminds me—”

  “You’re going to see her tomorrow. Here’s her folder.” Nell dropped the blue folder on top of his itinerary. “Arranged latest job to earliest. Also the stuff Riley and I got on Randy, the phantom Texan, which is nothing. On the other hand, we didn’t find anything bad.”

  “Nothing is bad enough,” Gabe said. “Also I need—”

  “The Quarterly Report folder.” Nell held it out to him.

  “Stop that!” Gabe jerked it out of her hand. “Jesus, you read minds, too?”

  “No,” Nell said, looking taken aback. “I just figured you’d want to look at it since Trevor called twice.”

  “Thank you.” Gabe took the folder. “Sorry I yelled. Get him on the phone for me, will you?”

  “Line one,” Nell said, and when he jerked his head up, she held her hands up in defense and said, “Pure dumb luck. He called right before I came in here.”

  “You are getting a little creepy,” Gabe said, reaching for the phone.

  “Hey,” she said, and he looked up at her, caught in the dusky twilight from his window, her hair on fire over her snapping brown eyes, her slender shoulders braced back for his assault, her body arched in her tight red T-shirt curving down to hips that were undeniably rounder than they’d been six months before, tapering into impossibly long, strong legs planted firmly apart on his Oriental rug. “I am not a little creepy,” she said. “I am efficient.”

  That’s not all you are. He tried not to look at her, but it was impossible.

  “And Trevor just offered me that job again, so watch it, buddy, or you’ll be short a secretary.”

  “Sorry. I’m having a bad day.”

  “Oh, hell, Gabe.” She let her hands fall from her hips. “I’m sorry, too. I’m just tired and cranky. You want a cup of coffee before I go?”

  “No.”

  “Well, what can I get you? Tea? Beer? What?”

  You, he thought and gave himself the luxury of one shiny fantasy of Nell on his desk with his hands sliding up the pale, smooth skin under her T-shirt before he said, “Nothing. Go away.”

  “Your people skills need work,” Nell said and then mercifully went back into the reception room.

  He picked up the phone and punched “one.” “Trevor? Sorry to keep you waiting. Good to talk to you.” To anybody but Nell. He opened the bottom drawer and took out his bottle of Glenlivet. “I understand you’re worried about Olivia.” Nell. Jesus.

  “She’s up to something,” Trevor said. “I know that junior partner of yours is good, but I think this might be something for you to handle.”

  Gabe cradled the phone between his chin and his shoulder as he looked for something to pour the whiskey into. If Nell had been there, she’d have had a glass under the bottle by now. Of course, if Nell had been there, he wouldn’t want the whiskey. He’d want—“Riley’s not a junior partner, Trevor, he’s a full partner. And most of the time he’s a hell of a lot better than I am. He’s the guy you want on this one.” He looked around the room for a glass, an old coffee cup, anything, but he knew better.

  Nell had been there. The place was spotless. He gave up and took a swig from the bottle.

  “If you’re sure,” Trevor said.

  Gabe savored the heat of the scotch going down. “I’m sure. Riley is the best there is.”

  “Call me if you find out anything,” Trevor said. “I know I’m overprotective, but damn it, she’s my little girl.”

  “Right,” Gabe said, screwing the top back on the bottle. Olivia Ogilvie was a little girl the way Britney Spears was a teenager. “Count on us. Oh, and Trevor? Stop trying to steal my secretary.”

  He hung up on Trevor’s unrepentant chuckle, and Riley spoke from the doorway. “Thanks.”

  Gabe looked up, surprised. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

  “I’m the best there is, huh?”

  Gabe eased back in his chair. “Yeah, you are. Should have told you that before.”

  “It’s good to hear any time.” Riley slouched into his chair and regarded him steadily. “What did you say to Nell?”

  “She was fussing. I kicked her out.” Gabe thought about it and unscrewed the Glenlivet again. “I’ll apologize.”

  “She seemed a little annoyed.”

  “She’s always annoyed,” Gabe said and drank.

  “You okay?”

  “Never better.” He capped the bottle. “Trevor wants the report on Olivia tomorrow. Is that a problem?”

  “Not unless Olivia stays home and behaves herself. Since it’s Friday night, I’m guessing that’s not a problem.” Riley studied him for a minute, and just as Gabe was about to say, “What?” Riley said, “I think you’re right.” He straightened in his chair and looked open and forthright, which made Gabe narrow his eyes in suspicion. “I do have a more mature outlook on life.”

  “Okay,” Gabe said, waiting for it.

  “And just now talking with Nell and her T-shirt, I realized what I walked away from,” Riley said. “Mature men need mature women. I’m going to make a move on her again. That okay with you?”

  Gabe looked at him with loathing. “You couldn’t let it alone, could you? You had to keep pushing.”

  “Just wanted to make sure it’s okay.”

  “I will rip your throat out with my bare hands.”

  “There you go,” Riley said, standing up. “Big day for both of us. I’m into maturity and you’re out of denial.”

  “And the sad thing i
s, you’re on my side,” Gabe said. “Imagine what my enemies are doing to me.”

  “Forget about your enemies,” Riley said. “Investigate your secretary.”

  Gabe thought about Nell on his desk again. Now he knew why his dad had kept the whiskey in the bottom drawer. Secretaries, the bane of the McKennas. “When did she get divorced?”

  “A year ago last July,” Riley said, and then he said, “No, you’re not going to wait for the two years to be up.”

  “Smart thing to do,” Gabe said. “Statistics show—”

  “Cowardly thing to do,” Riley said. “That’s seven months from now. I got twenty says you don’t make it.”

  “You’re on,” Gabe said. “Now go away.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Nell came in with her coat on and said, “I’m leaving. Anything you need before I go?”

  Ask me again in seven months, Gabe thought, but he said, “Nope. Sorry I yelled earlier.”

  “Not a problem,” Nell said. “That’s pretty much your major mode of communication.”

  Gabe winced. “You really are a terrific secretary. Best we’ve ever had.”

  “Thank you,” Nell said, surprised into a smile, and Gabe felt the heat spread as he looked at her. “Have a good night.”

  “You, too,” he said as she faded through the door, taking the heat with her.

  Seven months.

  He got out the whiskey again.

  * * *

  At nine the next morning, Becca called and canceled for the fourth time. “I just can’t ask him, Gabe,” she said. “Maybe after Christmas.”

  “When you’ve asked him, call us,” Gabe said, feeling sorry for her, but sorrier for himself: He had the mother of all hangovers. “Have a good holiday.” He hung up the phone just as Riley came in and sat down across from him.

  “I did the Quarterly Report last night,” Riley said, his face grim.

  “Oh, good for you,” Gabe said around his headache and then looked at him closer. “What’s wrong?”

  “Trevor was right, Olivia’s up to somebody new.”

  “How bad?”

  “Real bad,” Riley said. “It’s Jack Dysart.”

  “Oh, hell.” Gabe yanked open his desk drawer and found his aspirin bottle. He’d already taken two, but he was pretty sure it was impossible to overdose on aspirin. “Are you sure?”

  “He went back to her place with her and they didn’t close the drapes. And no, he wasn’t checking her homework.”

  “Jack Dysart is an idiot.” Trevor was going to have Jack’s head on a platter, which was only right. And then there was Suze. She didn’t deserve this. “Son of a bitch.”

  “I have stronger words,” Riley said. “You going to tell Trevor?”

  “Unless you want to,” Gabe said. “Get the report together…” His voice trailed off as he saw what Riley had already seen.

  “We don’t give this to Nell,” Riley said. “She’ll tell Suze.”

  “She’ll suspect something if you don’t give her a report. Write a dummy for her to type and then do the real report yourself.”

  “If she ever finds out we lied to her, she’ll kill us both,” Riley said.

  “Then see to it she never finds out,” Gabe said. “And be careful. She’s sharp.”

  Riley got up to go. “So you going to do anything about her?”

  “No,” Gabe said. “Go away.”

  “Look,” Riley said. “You’ve had it for her for months now. Given the kind of guy you are, you’re always going to have it for her. Why can’t you just admit that and get it over with?”

  “Thank you. When you’ve fixed your own life, then you can criticize mine.”

  “My life is fine.”

  “Your life is fine.”

  “Yes, my life is fine.”

  “Well, you’ve never been a hypocrite,” Gabe said. “So I’m going to have to go with tragically stupid here.”

  “What hypocrite?” Riley looked mystified. “I don’t have it for Nell. I was just trying to get you moving when I said that last night.”

  “Susannah Campbell Dysart,” Gabe said, enunciating each syllable carefully. “For fifteen years.”

  “Entirely different situation,” Riley said. “She was a fantasy of my youth. I’m over that.”

  “Tragically stupid,” Gabe said and went back to his reports, and then, as an afterthought, prompted by the news about Olivia, he added, “Have you seen Lu lately?”

  “Uh, no,” Riley said and headed for the door.

  “Hold it,” Gabe said. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Riley said. “She’s your kid. Talk to her.”

  Gabe put his pen down, suddenly cold. “Drugs?”

  “Jesus, no,” Riley said. “I’m not saying I’d be surprised if she did a little weed now and then, but she’s not stupid.”

  “Then what is it?” Gabe said, and when Riley hesitated, he said, “Someday you’re going to have a kid of your own. Cut me a break now.”

  “She’s dating a really nice guy.”

  Gabe frowned. “So what’s the problem?”

  “She’s been dating him for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “Since school started.”

  Four months. A new record for his scatterbrained child. “Anything wrong with him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then why are you scaring the hell out of me?”

  “It’s Nell’s kid,” Riley said. “Jason. Nell says he’s not much for long-term relationships.”

  “Good,” Gabe said, picking up his pen again, and Riley escaped into the outer office.

  Nell came in a few minutes later with the previous day’s paperwork to sign.

  “How’d the Quarterly Report go?” she said.

  “Same as always,” Gabe said. “I’ve got lunch with Harold today.”

  “I know, I have it already,” Nell said. “Don’t forget the appointment at Nationwide at three.

  She turned to go and Gabe said, “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Were you aware that your son is dating my daughter?”

  Nell froze, her bright green sweater stretched tight everywhere. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I thought you were,” Gabe said, and went back to the paperwork. If Nell had raised the kid, he’d have to be decent, although that idiot she’d married wasn’t a good indicator. He stopped to think about it and decided that it didn’t matter who the kid’s father was. Nell would have raised him right.

  Besides, anybody was better than Jack Dysart.

  * * *

  December was the busiest month the McKennas had had since Nell joined them, and it depressed her a little. Weren’t people supposed to trust each other more at the holidays?

  “More suicides this time of year than any other,” Gabe said when she mentioned it to him. “It’s all that expectation. Everybody wants to live in a Norman Rockwell painting, and everybody’s really living in The Scream. It gets to people.”

  “I’m happy,” Nell said, trying not to look at him. His tie was loosened and his shirtsleeves were rolled up and his hair looked rumpled, and he looked like an unmade bed. A really inviting, really hot unmade bed. When she mentioned it to Suze the next day, Suze said, “Well, do something about it.”

  Nell shook her head, “There’s a word for secretaries who seduce their bosses.”

  “‘Bimbos’?” Suze said.

  “‘Fired,’” Nell said. “I like my job, and I’m not going to lose it by making a pass at Gabe.”

  They were decorating The Cup for Christmas for Margie—Martha Stewart would have taken Margie and her shop to her bosom, it was that classy-cute now—and Margie came up with a tray of intricately iced cookies and said, “What do you think?”

  “They’re works of art,” Nell said, and meant it. The cookies were cut in classic Christmas shapes, but the icing that covered them was shiny and smooth as a new snowfall, and the piped decorations were immaculately done. “Those
must have taken you hours.”

  “Just all morning,” Margie said. “I’m thinking of opening in the mornings, too. Maybe just for Christmas. What do you think?”

  “I think Budge will have a fit,” Suze said. “Do it.”

  “He’s not around in the mornings,” Margie said. “And people like tea in the morning, too.”

  Nell was still stuck on the cookies. “These are really beautiful, Margie. People could give them as gifts.”

  “Do you think?” Margie’s round little face flushed with pleasure. “I’ve been practicing. I’ve gone through pounds of royal icing, but I think I’m getting pretty good.”

  “I think you’re great,” Suze said. “What do they taste like?”

  “Take one,” Margie urged, and Suze said, “God, no. Don’t you have any broken pieces?”

  “I’ve got some that aren’t pretty enough to sell,” Margie said and went to get them.

  “What’s with the crack about Budge?” Nell said.

  “I’m sorry,” Suze said. “He’s driving Margie crazy, calling her here all the time, trying to get her to quit, and it’s so selfish of him when she loves it so much. I think he’s afraid she’s going to meet somebody else and leave him, but Margie doesn’t have that kind of luck.”

  “Sort of like Jack,” Nell said.

  Suze shook her head. “You know, he bullied me into quitting the decoys, and now he’s working late all the time so he’s not home anyway. I don’t miss him that much, I just think if he’s not going to be there, why do I have to be?”

  Not good, Nell thought. “So what did you get him for Christmas?”

  “Nothing,” Suze said. “What’s the point of buying him a present with money he gives me?”

  “Okay,” Nell said.

  “What are you getting Gabe?”

  “We don’t exchange presents. We’re not that close.”

  “Right. What did you get him?”

  “Nothing,” Nell said. “But I did have some of the pictures on his wall blown up bigger and framed in gold so we can put them in the outer office. Come here, you have to see them.”

  She took Suze into the storeroom and Margie followed them in with the cookies.

  “These are really good,” Nell said after one bite. “They taste like the almond cookies.” She took another for later and began to unpack the picture boxes.