Romantic Suspense

85,000 words

© by Kim  Cox

Prologue

She paced across the plush carpeting in front of her desk. The office was quiet-everyone had gone home hours before as usual, leaving her to finish their work.

If it weren't for her, the magazine would've folded years ago. But did one of them appreciate her loyalty? Her organization skills? Her stamina? No! Damn all the Morgans, especially Joe.

She'd helped him when his wife died, day after day. She made sure he ate, petted him, nurtured his aching heart and later, gave him her body to help him release the stresses she knew he faced. Well, she didn't really have sex with him, but he thought she had. She shivered at the thought of sex with such a dried-up old prune.

Never just a secretary, she was more his right-hand, taking care of his business when his grief proved too much for him to handle. A few months later, she invited him to her home and it gave him a sense of reprieve not to have to stare at the same rooms, the same walls he'd shared with his wife for thirty-five years. Joe promised her a promotion within the company.

All that changed when she lied about being pregnant. Joe wanted her to marry him and become his little missus, but she wanted to someday run Morgan Fashion Magazine, not play mommy, or become the wife of an old man. She was willing to make the sacrifice if only for a little while, though; at least until she gained control. Then, he caught her, the telltale sign on the sheets that morning he arrived early for breakfast and she was showering. He knew she'd lied.

Joe was furious, called their relationship quits and demoted her to manual labor in the production department. At first, she planned sabotage, but knew she could catch more flies with sweetness rather than vengeance, especially after Joe retired and handed the reins over to his daughter, Jenny. She realized all his promises had been lies, and Joe's plan all along had been to hand down the company to a blood relative.

Too bad he hadn't died from his heart attack last night.

Still, her goal was the same, and her plan was coming along nicely. Since their breakup, she'd attended college and received a bachelor's degree in business and journalism, and had worked her way up to Trevor Klein's equal as associate editor. There were four of them in line for the managing editor job, and she was sure that even though Trevor was Jenny's best friend, Jenny would see her potential and give her the job. While all four were smart and efficient, they didn't have her determination or persistence. Trevor, the only real threat, didn't have the ambition Jenny liked in her managing editors.

If all else failed and Trevor got the job, all she needed to do was prove him incompetent and step into his job, and at the same time come out of it smelling sweet as a newborn baby. It would be as easy as Jenny and Trevor stepping into their positions without a thread of experience right out of college. Trevor was a pushover, laid-back and trusting, and he relied heavily on his assistant to keep him organized. The bachelor in him couldn't turn down a pretty pair legs if it killed him.

Yes, he would be a cinch, very easy to take advantage of, but Jenny would be more difficult. She smiled at her genius. The only way to triumph would be to tackle one obstacle at a time, just as a mason lays his bricks one at a time to build a well-constructed building.

Chapter 1

"I saw Chris this weekend." Trevor Klein leaned against Jenny's doorjamb, sounding casual.

Jenny Morgan shuffled through the papers on her desk, looking for the article about the new high protein, low carbohydrate diet, sure to be the rave of the millennium. She didn't want to hear whatever Trevor had to say. The divorce put Chris out of her life. The less she heard about him, the better.

Trevor slid into her office. "Didn't you hear me?" Stuffing a hand in his pocket, he jiggled his loose change.

"Can't you see I'm trying to work? Something you might consider doing. You'll never make managing editor if you don't start applying-"

"Remember Chris? Your ex?"

She lifted her head and glared at him. "How could I forget? I'm still paying his lawyer bills, and his many girlfriends still call the house. I give them your number, by the way, since it is all your fault."

The smirk on his face made her want to leap from the chair and choke him. She imagined her fingers around Trevor's neck, squeezing. It felt good . . . too good. She clutched the arms of her chair to stop herself from committing a felony. "I really don't have time for this. Deadline for the February issue is in three hours, and I can't find that diet article."

He leaned back and laughed. "Look, just because I introduced you to Chris didn't mean you had to marry him. Don't blame me."

Not marry him? She couldn't stop herself, though she'd known he was wrong, wrong, wrong. Chris Logan, fashion-model gorgeous with the broadest shoulders she'd ever seen-blond hair and blue eyes that lit her soul with a single glance. Bulging muscles covered every inch of his salon-tanned body.

And someone she'd rather never hear about again. The man she wasn't sexy enough to keep in her bed. Chris chased anything in a skirt, with a preference for her closest friends-none of whom turned him down. Needless to say, Jenny had very few friends left and probably the only reason she put up with Trevor.

"You wanna hear this, or not?"

"Will you get out of here and let me work if I don't?"

"No."

"Very well, shoot." She laid her red pen on the mahogany desk.

"Chris called me Saturday for a game of golf."

"And?"

"He's getting married."

"So, I'm supposed to care?" What woman in her right mind would consider marrying that gigolo?" One like you, she reminded herself.

Trevor rubbed the dark hairs on his chin as he usually did when he tried to guess her reaction to something. "He's marrying Bianca Rosenburg."

"The Bianca Rosenburg?"

"There's only the one."

"The Bianca Roseburg from Rome?" She realized her mouth was agape and clamped it shut.

Trevor grinned.

"Boy, is she in for it!" Jenny couldn't help the wave of pity that rippled through her body. Another hapless female about to have her life trashed by Chris the scumbag. Should she warn Bianca Rosenburg?

Naaah. Bianca would never listen to her, an ex-wife of all things. Besides, they traveled in different circles. She talked herself out of the inane thought.

"That's why he wanted to meet with me. I went, and he gave me an exclusive interview about his wedding plans. It's hush-hush. They're marrying next week in a private ceremony on the Rosenburg yacht. Chris gave me their engagement photos to run with the article. The February edition hits the stands the day after their wedding."

"And the pompous, two-timing, conceited, worthless son-of-a- robber thinks I'll run it in my magazine?" With a push of her foot, Jenny swung her chair back to her desk. Elbows pushed into the armrests while she folded her hands, fingers entwined under her chin, she stared out the window.

Trevor strolled up beside her. Taking both arms of her chair, he spun her around to face him. "Don't tell me you still care about this guy?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I just don't want his name to appear anywhere in Morgan's Fashions."

"But this is great timing. I wouldn't think twice about it if he weren't marrying the most eligible woman in the world. Not to mention the richest." Standing, he awaited her response. Determination etched wrinkles around his green eyes.

What was wrong with her? Of course, it was a wonderful opportunity. And Trevor finally showed savvy business sense-true dedication to his profession. And she sat there, in her high-and-mighty CEO chair, and tried to shoot him down. Why?

Because she hated Chris, that's why. But a professional businesswoman shouldn't let emotions get in the way. And normally, she didn't. So why now? Lack of sleep. That's it. She'd paced the corridors all night at the hospital with her seventy-year-old father. A heart attack had forced him there in the middle of the night. If it weren't for the magazine's deadline, she wouldn't be here at all.

She took off her reading glasses and rubbed her burning eyes.

"So? What do you say?"

"Huh?"

"The story?"

"You're right, Trevor. Go with it."

He reached behind him, pulled out a bundle of papers from his back pocket and tossed them on her desk. "You might need these."

The papers lay there with ruffled edges. She straightened them. The diet article she'd hunted for all morning and afternoon lay spread out before her. She massaged her aching temples.

Running out the door, Trevor yelled over his shoulder, "Thanks, Boss." A throaty chuckle erupted.

Watching his backside as he left, she had to admit he looked good from behind. A nice tight rear, trim waist and broad shoulders. Good attributes to pass on. Jenny shook her head, amazed at her foolish thoughts. This certainly proved she'd been without a man for too long.

As handsome as Trevor was, he wasn't for her. They were much better suited as friends. He was special, her best friend, and the only friend she hadn't had to worry about sleeping with her ex-husband.

Picturing Trevor at their high school prom, she could still see the one dark, unruly lock curled onto his fair-complexioned forehead.

They had been an item until she caught him with that cheerleader. Were all men alike? Cheaters? Or was it just men of her generation? Her father had been faithful to her mother up until the day she died. And he hadn't wanted another woman since. Was her father one of a kind or was she the only one who attracted all the deadbeats?

Then, in college, Chris roomed with Trevor. That's how she'd met him. Chris, all muscle and brawn, where Trevor's physique maintained muscle but not to the same extent.

The shrill of the intercom broke into her thoughts. "Yes, Lindsey."

"Hospital on line three."

"Thank you, Lindsey." She pressed the button connecting her to the outside call. "Hello?"

"Ms. Morgan?"

"Has something happened to my father?"

"Your father is resting. The doctor wanted me to call and ask you if you could come to his office for a consultation at four-thirty this afternoon."

"Is anything wrong?"

"He wants to go over your father's prognosis. You said you wanted to be informed as soon as possible."

"Yes, I'll be there."

How would she get through this day? How would she get her articles in order to meet deadline? Only one way, buckle down and just do it. The managing editor job needed to be decided, but while she leaned toward Trevor, she had her doubts. She didn't believe Della, Lindsey or Sarah were ready for the position, though Della had more ambition than any of them, including Trevor. It would have to wait until after her father was well. She just couldn't think about it now, at least not logically.

* * *

The long and trying day was almost over. All the articles were ready for printing, except one-Trevor's. Jenny pressed the numbers 1-2-8 on her phone. "Sarah, give me Trevor, please."

"Sure thing, Ms. Morgan."

"Hello. Trevor Klein here. How can I help you?"

"Is the Logan-Rosenburg article ready yet?"

"Oh, Jenny. Happy talking to you again, too."

"Cut the crap. Is it ready? Deadline is in one hour." She tapped her pen on the desk.

"Aren't we in a bad mood?"

If he only knew. She hadn't told him about her father yet. He'd been out of town, returning early this morning. Nor had she told anyone else--not even her father's friends. He hadn't wanted her to worry them. "The article?"

"It's finished. I'll drop it by in a couple of minutes."

"I've got to leave for an appointment, so hurry." The phone went dead and a few minutes later, her door opened.

Trevor handed her the article. She dropped it as if it burned her fingers.

"It won't bite you. Want me to have one of the other editors read this one?"

"No, I can do it." Pull yourself together. Distance yourself. She picked the article up with the tips of her fingers and straightened her shoulders.

The divorce had been final for two years. This has nothing to do with you or your life anymore. It was just another article about a man marrying a famous and wealthy woman.

After a few minutes, excitement curled her lips into a smile. "This is great writing, Trevor." The article was written with a great deal of emotion about the happy couple's past lives. Chris had grown up poor, working his way through college. And Bianca had had it all from birth. What a contrast! Chris's hard work and enthusiasm had been what attracted her to him.

The article went on to describe the fairy-tale wedding Bianca planned.

Trevor, sprawled in a chair across from her desk, grinned and hooked one leg over the arm.

"So, what about a follow-up?"

"It shouldn't be a problem."

"You'll need to arrange for another interview." Jenny held up a finger to indicate that was

number one. "Especially since this is a private wedding."

"Okay. I'll call Chris in a couple of days."

She held up finger number two. "During the interview, you'll need the details of the actual wedding and the honeymoon." The third finger went up.

"Details of the honeymoon? Aren't we getting a little too personal? Is that for the magazine article, or your own personal information?" Trevor laughed.

Her face flushed from his insinuation. "You know what I mean. Where they go, and what sites they see."

"Okay boss. Anything else?"

"The article's wonderfully written, Trevor. I'm impressed."

"I owe it all to you. I've taken your advice. I'm now a responsible adult."

"It's about time." She looked at Trevor. Love and appreciation warmed her heart. Love for a friend, of course. But it was no less powerful than that of a lover. Just different.

A smile of satisfaction curved his lips, showing perfect white teeth. Then, he blew on his fingernails and rubbed them against his shirt. "I told you it would be great. You just have this lack of trust thing going on."

"I'll tell it to my shrink. Now, I've got to get out of here." She stood and started toward the door.

Trevor caught up with her, heading her off. "Want me to take the articles down to the printing office?"

"No. I'll do it on my way out."

"There's that trust thing again. Better talk to your shrink quick if you want a full recovery."

"Sure, next time I see her. Now, out."

Jenny turned him around and pushed him through the doorway.

"You don't have to shove. I can take a hint."

* * *

She stood in the shadows, watching, listening and keeping her eyes open. What a flirt! Trevor was certainly a clown. No ambition, no get out and take what you want. He definitely wasn't a worthy opponent for her. Biding her time, she waited until they drifted out of sight and the hallways were clear of prying eyes. She made her way into the CEO office she would one day occupy. As she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it, threw her head back and sniffed the scent of the fine wood furnishings in the expensively decorated office. The smell of power. Just the fix she needed to carry her through the days until her plans became reality. The office really hadn't changed since she visited Joe many times during his days of grief. He should've awarded her the job she deserved, and saved his baby girl the pain of losing it all.

* * *

Dr. Charles Andrews met Jenny in his office. "Have a seat, Jenny. We have a lot to talk about." Her father's friend placed an arm around her shoulders and led her to the couch, where he sat down beside her.

"Is it bad, Charlie?"

"Joe's continued stability depends on how we proceed. We took him to the cardiac lab this morning and gave him the diagnostic cardiac catheterization. This showed-"

"What's that?"

"We ran dye through his arteries while using x-rays to see where the blockages were. Joe has ninety percent blockages in two arteries, and seventy-five percent in a third."

Tears, held back all day, spilled over her cheeks. She couldn't stop her hiccuping sobs. It sounded hopeless. "Is there anything you can do for him?"

Charles handed her a tissue and wrapped his arms around her. "Would you like me to call someone to be here with you?"

She controlled herself. "No. I haven't told anyone about dad's heart attack."

"I know you haven't any family left, but what about friends?"

"No, no one." Right now, she didn't want to talk to anyone. She would contact Trevor later. "I'll be okay. Finish telling me about Daddy."

"Yes. PCTA, better known as angioplasty surgery is what I recommend."

There was the hope she needed. "Is it very dangerous?"

"All procedures, especially on the heart, have some degree of risk, but it's a fairly simple procedure."

"How will … I mean, what will you do?" Jenny widened her eyes, clearing her mind of anything else besides what Charles would tell her. She needed to understand her father's prognosis completely for her own sanity. She couldn't bear to lose another member of her family. Not now.

"We'll insert an IV in his arm where he'll receive various medications."

"Will he be sedated?"

"Somewhat, but just enough to relax him. He'll be slightly drowsy, but awake. Then we'll cleanse an area on his arm and numb it with an anesthetic. A balloon-tipped catheter will be inserted into the numbed area and advanced to the heart, using an x-ray to guide it."

She shivered. "That sounds painful."

"Not really. When the balloon is inflated at the point of blockage, Joe may feel chest pressure or discomfort, but that's normal."

"How long will the surgery take?"

"Generally, about two hours. Then, he'll be in recovery a short time before we move him back to his room. A nurse will continue to monitor his vital signs and condition. But if at any time during the surgery I feel his heart is stressed and there's a possibility of causing further damage to his heart, we'll discontinue and stabilize him."

"When? When will you do the surgery?" Tears stung the back of her eyelids.

"We'd like to get it done first thing in the morning. Would you like a glass of water, Jenny?"

"Yes, thank you." As if on cue, a nurse came in with a pitcher and glasses.

Charles smiled. "Thank you, Maggie. Just set the pitcher down. We'll help ourselves." The nurse left and Charles turned to Jenny. The strange look on her face must have prompted him for an explanation. "I figured we would need the water." Charles filled a glass and handed it her.

She took a long sip. "Thank you."

The doctor nodded. "Now, after tomorrow's surgery, I'll be able to give you a better prognosis."

"Can I see him now?"

"Sure. He's resting. Just don't let him talk too much or become distressed. Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"

"No, Charles, thank you." She hugged him briefly. "Tell Claudia I miss her and to give me a call the next time she's in town for a visit." Claudia had been one of her best friends in high school, but she rarely saw her anymore since she married and moved to Georgia.

"I'll do that. She usually calls once a week with my grandson's progress. He took his first step last week."

"That's wonderful! I can't wait to see little Jamie." Jenny smiled even though the knot in her stomach ground into her backbone. The longing seemed more persistent these days, like it was the only other use she had in the world. The business wasn't as exciting as it once was--the satisfaction of putting out a top-notch magazine no longer seemed important when her life was empty without family. Was it her sister's or her mother's death that made it seem more important now? She didn't know, but she knew life seemed too short to waste it without true love.

* * *

She gazed down at her sleeping father, always a vibrant man for his age. Now he looked ashen in color, weathered, balding, wrinkled and old. Lying, stretched out in the bed, he looked much smaller than his normal six-foot-three. Suddenly exhausted, Jenny clutched the side rail of his bed.

He opened his eyes and patted her hand.

"Jenny-"

"Shhh," she said, touching her finger to her lips. "The doctor said you're not supposed to tire yourself out."

He clamped his mouth shut and drew his brows together, appearing agitated.

"I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to see you before I went home. Just to make sure you're being good, mind you." She reached down and put a soft kiss on his forehead as she squeezed his hand. "I love you, Daddy." She choked back a sob.

What would she do if she lost him, too? Her stomach twisted into knots. Holding her emotions at bay, she smiled. But the tightness in her chest intensified.

"You get some sleep now," she whispered. "I'll be back first thing in the morning."

"Jenny, I need-"

"No." She shushed him again. "Tell me tomorrow night when you're stronger. Good night now. I'll be here bright and early in the morning, before you're even awake."

(c) Kim Cox 2008 -- no portion can be copied or reproduced without the permission of the author.