his tone stayed pleasant as he admonished, ‘You weren’t listening, Emily. I said I want those completed minutes in my hands today.’
‘But—but you’re going—er—partying!’
‘True,’ he answered, and, reaching for a sheet of office stationery, swiftly wrote down an address and some directions. ‘I don’t doubt the party will still be thrashing gone midnight. I’m sure you won’t mind dropping off the minutes on your way home.’
Emmie took the paper from him and stared at it. Then, her eyes widening, she stared at him. The address—Neville and Roberta Short’s address—lay in an entirely different direction from where she lived. And she was positive the vile Cunningham knew it! She flicked her glance past him to the window, where the first flakes of snow had started to fall. A glance back at her employer showed he’d followed her eyes.
He looked back to her—and smiled. Then she hated him afresh! He knew full well that she would be slaving away until at least eight o’clock that night. And after that it would take her an hour to drive to his lady-love’s home!
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