to be a superwoman, you know? It’s okay to be human.”
No, it’s not. I made that mistake one night in the desert.
“I don’t think Elan will fire me. If he was going to, he’d have done it already. I promised him on my first day that I wouldn’t so much as flirt with him. I guess he has women throwing themselves at him all the time, I just can’t believe I turned out to be one of them.”
“He sounds like a piece of work. I’d like to get my hands on him.”
Erin’s gritty threat almost made her laugh. “That’s how this whole thing got started, I’m afraid.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to tell him about the pregnancy tomorrow.”
“Oh, Sara.” Her spirited sister’s voice withered. “You know Gavin dumped me when I told him.”
Sara rubbed her eyes. “I know. I just hope I can be as strong as you.”
Okay, this is it. You’re going to march right into his office and say it. I’m pregnant.
Sara inhaled a shaky breath as the elevator climbed. She’d deliberately come in late, so he’d be there and she wouldn’t have time to sit around at her desk and think of reasons not to tell him. She’d even bicycled here in a smart pantsuit so she’d be “dressed for the occasion.” Unfortunately, there was now a black chain print smudged near the inside of the right ankle. She’d deal with that later.
The elevator doors opened, and her anxiety turned to chilling surprise.
Her desk, which had sat right in front of the elevator, was now moved to one side, sharing the space with a second identical desk. The piles of papers covering her workspace threatened to keel over onto the stark gray surface of the new desk pushed up next to it.
“Sara.” Elan’s large form dominated even the cavernous space of the foyer. His greeting caused her heart to pound louder.
I’m pregnant.
But she couldn’t tell him now because there was another person in the room.
“This is Mrs. Dixon,” Elan said. A satisfied smile roamed across his mouth. “She’s a new member of our team. Her title is Executive Assistant.”
Sara’s blood froze. Was she being replaced?
“Mrs. Dixon will perform the secretarial duties that were your responsibility. Answering my phone, preparing my correspondence, filing my papers and such.”
Sara struggled to keep her face expressionless. And what will I do?
“You will focus your time and energy on special projects I assign you. This arrangement is somewhat inconvenient,” he indicated the two desks with a sweep of his hand. His gold watch glinted beneath a starched cuff. “But it’s temporary. I’d like you to gain more experience in the field, to become familiar with the day-to-day operations at our job sites.”
Sara blinked, the lights suddenly too bright for her eyes. She glanced at Mrs. Dixon. Steel-gray hair sprayed into a bouffant, mouth pursed into a prim line, the stiffly suited older woman regarded her with what looked like distaste.
I prefer my executive assistant to be a woman with decades of experience, and preferably gray hairs on her head.
Elan’s words on that first day flew into her head.
She was being replaced. And banished. He meant to be rid of her, and since she wouldn’t quit he planned to send her away to “gain experience.” And he’d installed her replacement before she was even gone.
“Your salary will increase, of course.” Elan’s words jerked her attention back to him. He surveyed her through narrowed eyes. “Commensurate with your new responsibilities and the inconvenience of frequent travel.”
Frequent travel. On a plane. Her gut clenched at the prospect. Is this how he meant to drive her away? To play on her one weakness?
“It is a promotion, though your title will remain the same.” An overhead spotlight threw his arrogant features into harsh relief as a smile crossed his lips.
A promotion. Higher pay. A reward for excellence?
Or a smoke screen to cover his plan to force her resignation?
“Thank you. I look forward to the new challenges,” she said stiffly.
“Good. I have a meeting to attend. Please familiarize Mrs. Dixon with the workings of our office. I’ll be at home this afternoon as I have a new mare being delivered. You may handle my calls for me.”
With a brusque nod, he strode toward the elevator leaving Sara alone with…
The Other Woman.
She wanted to laugh. Her rival was not the long-lashed, pouty-lipped casino bunny she might have imagined. No. She was a heavily powdered, sturdy-legged matron of at least fifty-five.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand to Mrs. Dixon.
“Likewise.” Mrs. Dixon’s hair remained firmly in place as she nodded a greeting and met Sara’s sweating palm with her own cool, meaty hand. “Have you worked here long?”
“Nearly five months.”
Oh, and I’m having his baby, by the way.
How would she ever tell him now? With this steel-haired battle-ax perched outside the office door, ear probably glued to the intercom?
As hers had once been.
“I have thirty-five years of experience assisting executives.” Mrs. Dixon’s thin lips pressed together for a moment as she glanced from Sara’s travel-wrinkled suit to the teetering piles of folders and correspondence on her desk. “We’ll soon get this office whipped into shape.”
I have to tell him. Today.
She pumped down on the pedals, pushing her bike along the dusty road that cut through the sagebrush-strewn desert. She pedaled slowly, trying to conserve her energy, trying not to work up too much of a sweat as the summer sun glared down at her from the fierce blue sky. It was already eleven o’clock, the journey taking longer than she’d expected. When she’d looked up Elan’s address she hadn’t realized his ranch was so far from town. But she had to go there and tell him away from the prying eyes of their coworkers.
She’d tried, time and time again over the past two weeks, to get a moment alone with Elan behind the closed door of his office. But Mrs. Dixon hovered around him like a ministering angel, bearing cups of steaming coffee, bags of dry-cleaned shirts and freshly collated reports. She even took shorthand, which seemed to delight Elan, who now dictated most of his personal correspondence instead of typing it himself on his computer. There was no escaping the woman, whose old-school solicitude was a stark contrast to Sara’s own ambitious careerism.
And Elan was using her ambition as a rope to hang her with. She was scheduled to leave next Thursday for three weeks on an offshore rig in the Gulf of Mexico. After that she was headed to Canada, for a long stint at three different sites there. The opportunity was
