The Secretary And The Millionaire. Leanne Banks
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“Hold my calls, Elaine,” Jack said to his replacement assistant, then joined Mason in his office. “What’s up?”
“Chloe told me your father’s been acting edgy lately,” Mason said.
Jack frowned.
“Will you keep me posted if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary? Anything at all.”
Jack shrugged. “I can’t think of anything offhand,” he said. “Unless—It’s nothing.”
“You’d be surprised what can come from nothing,” Mason said in a dark tone.
“Amanda told me Mollie Shaw was hanging around Stuart’s office. When Amanda asked her about it, she got nervous. It’s probably nothing,” he said. “Mollie’s barely over drinking age.”
“Maybe a background check,” Mason murmured.
“For a wedding planner?” Jack asked in disbelief. “Are we stepping into paranoia? Besides, she’s good friends with your future brother-in-law’s wife, Kelly.”
“You may be right,” Mason said in a noncommittal voice. “But there is such a thing as healthy paranoia. Keep your eyes open. Okay?”
“Always,” Jack said. “How do you get all your information, anyway?”
“I have my sources.” Mason headed for the door and turned around. “How’s Lilly?”
“Better since Amanda took over.”
“That’s good. You headed home now?”
“No, I’m meeting Trina Sullivan for dinner.”
“Redhead.” Mason cracked a wicked grin. “Jack’s new WOW.”
‘“Wow’?” Jack repeated.
“Woman of the week. You don’t keep them around much longer than that.”
“I come from a long line of matchmakers,” Jack told Mason. “You know about Kate,” he said referring to his aunt who was determined to make sure all Fortunes were happily married and producing more heirs. “The only way to throw her off course is to be a moving target.”
“No serious contenders?”
“The only female I’m serious about is Lilly.”
Mason nodded slowly. “Safe choice. ’Night.”
After Mason left, Jack checked the mirror in his office rest room and straightened his tie. His evenings had been too quiet lately. He’d had too much time to reflect. He needed a distraction. Trina.
Every time Amanda closed her eyes that night in bed, she pictured Jack. And Trina. He would flirt with Trina and let his hand linger at her waist. He would kiss her. He would hold her.
Pain cut through her. Jealousy welled inside her. Amanda squished her eyes closed. She hated jealousy. It was such a small, useless emotion. Amanda didn’t spend much time lamenting her plain appearance. Her value had never been in the color of her eyes, the shape of her face or the shape of her slim body. She’d been valued for her mind, her common sense and for her heart.
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