"It'll be my pleasure." She scribbled on her pad for a moment and looked up when she was ready for him to continue.

His skull began to pound as if some sadistic surgeon was using a miniature jackhammer to perform a lobotomy on him. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you also get me something for my head again?"

"You know, popping pills isn't the answer. You really need to stop working so hard. Maybe you should appoint a new president so you can delegate some of your respons-"

"You applying for the position?"

"No way." She held her hands up. "I've seen your job, and I don't want any part of it."

"You're already doing a lot of it."

"As I told you on Friday, I want a husband and a family someday. Professionally, I'm satisfied right where I am. I don't want to have to take work home with me at night."

"Guess I'm stuck with it all then."

She tucked a stray tendril of hair into her braid. "Is that it? No florist order this morning?" A pair of pink blossoms bloomed on her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I wasn't being nosey. It's just after every other weekend-"

"I didn't think you were prying. As a matter of fact, I would like you to send something to Liz Whitestone."

He'd chosen to take Liz out on his boat that weekend simply because she wasn't one of the women he slept with. Despite how turned on Hannah had left him on Friday, for the first time in sixteen years, he hadn't wanted just any warm body in his bed.

"And what should the card say?"

He speared his fingers through his hair. He'd been so preoccupied, thinking about Hannah, he hadn't been very good company. "I'm sorry I wasn't more fun. Had a lot on my mind. Jordan." He glanced back at the windowsill. "And send her a plant instead of flowers. Something exotic."

Hannah's teeth clamped over her ripe lower lip. "An orchid?"

"That's fine."

Her refusal to meet his gaze said she had questions about his relationship with the woman.

"Go ahead, just ask. It's obvious you want to know."

"Know what?" she mumbled.

"Whatever has you so flustered you're mutilating your mouth over it."

Her gnawing stopped, and she lifted her chin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. It's in your eyes. You want to know if I slept with her after what happened between us."

Her nibbling resumed while her gaze darted around the room. "That's none of my business."

"Maybe not. But it hasn't stopped you from wondering."

"I thought we were both forgetting about that night?"

"Except it's clear you haven't." And neither had he.

She rose and strode to the door. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Satisfaction also brought Fluffy back," he called after her. "The answer is no." His overwhelming need to tell her was probably a good indication that taking her to Washington with him wasn't a great idea.

Freezing in her tracks, she glanced back over her shoulder.

"Liz's just a good friend. I only sleep with two of the women I date."

The appalled look on Hannah's face said his admission had sent her imagination on a wild, kinky ride.

"Oh, jeez." He rolled his eyes. "Not at the same time."

Her mouth curled in a chagrined smile. "Isn't that every man's fantasy?"

"Well, it's not mine."

His skin still crawled at recalling what had happened sixteen years ago. He'd never told a soul about it. If he had, his friends would inevitably have given him a cry-me-a-river response, not to mention, his disgrace was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

"Besides," he added, "people have lots of fantasies they don't necessarily want to become reality."

Why he'd felt the compulsion to confess that his relationship with Liz was strictly platonic, he couldn't say. Maybe it had been the disappointment flickering in Hannah's eyes, or her inflamed mouth, or the heightened color in her cheeks. Whatever his reason, he'd wanted her to know he hadn't been interested in sleeping with anyone but her.

And that scared the living hell out of him.

Why should I give a whit whether he'd boinked the woman or not? Hannah flounced back to her office and tossed her pad and pen onto the desk.

Jordan may have gotten hot when she kissed him, but she didn't have a prayer of holding his interest for the long term. The fact he was less than eager to see her that morning proved how much he regretted what had happened. She could've croaked from humiliation when he'd caught her hiding behind the bar.

Sinking into her chair, she picked up the phone and connected Jordan to the Baldwin Hotel's reservation line. Then she punched out the food service manager's number to confirm the one o'clock luncheon arrangements in the executive dining room Jordan had taken her to the first week she'd worked for him.

A few moments after she hung up the phone, Hank Stanzione from the cafeteria rolled in a cart carrying the coffee service, juice, and trays of bagels and pastries for the board's continental breakfast.

Since the day Hannah started working at Calder, the stocky food service employee had gone out of his way to be nice to her. After she'd told Hank that chicken salad was her favorite sandwich and that she loved mushroom soup, he began putting the leftovers aside whenever the cafeteria served them so she could have it again the next day.

"You're looking mighty fine today, Hannah." Hank wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Dressing up for the big wigs?"

"Heavens, no. I wore this outfit just for you," she teased, leading him into the conference room.

"How'd you know I'd be bringing up the breakfast cart?"

"I didn't. But hope springs eternal." She began arranging the food as attractively as possible on the table running along the side wall.

He shooed her away. "You go back to whatever you were doing. This is my job."

"I don't mind helping. Besides, it's a good excuse to visit with you." In truth, she just wanted to make sure nothing was missing and everything looked perfect.

"You wouldn't need an excuse if you'd go out with me for pizza and a movie sometime. Ladies are half price on Wednesdays."

She froze for a millisecond and turned to find his dark gaze trained on her, hope sparkling in the depth of his eyes.

Despite that Hank had no neck, a unibrow, and only a high school education, he had a great personality. She had no doubt she'd have an enjoyable time with him. And what better way to forget about Jordan than to become interested in another guy?

"How 'bout it?"

"I'd love to, but I'm pretty busy this week. I have my final exam tomorrow night, and I just found out I'll be on a business trip next week and returning on Wednesday evening. But if you'd like to go Thursday, instead, I'd be glad to pay for-"

"Sure. But I'm not letting you pay. By then I should be able to scrounge up enough for a full-price ticket." He winked at her. "A week from Thursday it is."

After Hank left whistling, Hannah made sure each seat at the conference table had a meeting agenda, handouts, a note pad, and a pen.

"As usual, everything looks wonderful," Edward announced, standing in the doorway.

"I'm sure I'm forgetting something."

"Relax." He strolled in and patted her shoulder. "None of the directors are that fussy."

Maybe not. But if Jordan wanted the board to appoint him as the new chairman before the next annual stockholder's meeting, it was imperative he make a good impression today.

Fifteen minutes later, a steady parade of directors streamed into Hannah's office. She showed them into the conference room and made sure each of them had a cup of coffee or tea.

"How nice to see you again, Mr. Preston." She offered the vice chairman a cinnamon bun.

"No, thank you." He sidled closer and murmured in a low voice, "I was hoping there'd be some of your delicious cookies here today."

When the man had stormed into the office the morning after he'd seen Jordan and his date in the hospital parking lot, Jordan had used Hannah's cookies to mollify Preston long enough to explain the reality of what he'd seen.

"I'm sure my boss won't mind sharing a few with you."

"You know, you could make a fortune if you sold them."

"Right." She grinned. "If I ever lose my job, I'll open a cookie stand on Route One and peddle them to motorists during rush hour."

"I'm not kidding." Mr. Preston sipped his hot coffee.

"With all the butter, chocolate, and nuts in them, I'd have to charge way too much to make a decent profit."

"That might be true if you were targeting middle-class families with kids. But if you promote them as gourmet cookies and sell to the more affluent consumer, I think you'd be surprised by what they'll pay."

"Good morning," Jordan said from the doorway to his office. "If everyone will take a seat, we can get started."

She smiled at Mr. Preston and whispered, "When you leave today, I'll make sure you get some cookies to take home."

"Thank you. While you're at it, maybe you could give me some ideas for what to get my daughter for her birthday. She's turning twenty-one soon."

"Sure thing." Before taking her seat, she strolled around the table, making sure the directors had all they needed and everyone's cup was full.

After closing the blinds and dimming the lights, Jordan flipped on the oversized screen, displaying the first PowerPoint slide. An appreciative murmur hummed through the room when the music swelled and the corporate logo zoomed in.

As she sank into the seat next to Jordan, he leaned toward her and murmured, "Now I'm wondering if I gave you a big enough raise."

By eleven o'clock the next morning, Hannah had called Jeff Burton, the vice president of Marketing, and he'd directed his people to send her most of the data Jordan had requested for the pediatric symposium. With as busy as she'd been with the board meeting the day before, the stack of miscellaneous papers on her desk had grown into a mountain.

She sorted through the pages and froze when she came across the original handwritten quarterly report that she'd typed on Friday and compared it to the photocopy Jordan had given her with the corrections.

They were completely different. The original did reflect a deficit for the Baby Care division. Apparently, she hadn't made all those typos after all. They were the original numbers he'd given her.

She stomped into Jordan's office and slapped the two pages on his desk. "I figured out why there were so many mistakes in the quarterly report on Friday. You obviously changed some of the numbers."

"That's not my handwriting." He pointed to the smudged figures on the handwritten copy, all of which were the same ones he'd assumed were typographical errors.

"What are you saying? Someone else changed the figures? How could they? I was here all day on Friday except for when I-" She stopped cold, remembering the outer office doors had been unlocked when she'd returned from lunch. "You didn't lock the doors when you went into your gym, did you?"

His eyes closed, and he silently shook his head. "I didn't think of it."

The first week Hannah had worked there, he'd given her a lengthy lecture about the truckload of confidential files in the executive suite's cabinets, and how vital it was to keep them locked as well as the outer doors to the suite whenever one of them wasn't around. She even bolted them during staff meetings when they were both in the conference room.

"I'm sorry, Hannah. I don't understand why anyone would change the report. I generated those figures. I would know if they were off."

"Maybe someone wanted to make me look incompetent."

"Can you think of anyone who could be holding a grudge against you?"

"Not unless my ex-roommate finally discovered what a sleaze Kevin is, and now she wants revenge because I let her have him."

"That would be justice." Jordan chuckled. "Don't worry about it. We caught it so there's no damage done. From now on, I'll make sure to lock the door when you're not here, even if I'm just using the bathroom."

He stood and tugged on his suit jacket. "Better yet, prepare a requisition for Maintenance to install an electronic time clock outside this office just like they have in the manufacturing areas and the labs. That way I'll be sure Security is patrolling up here at least once every hour."

"That's a good idea. Are you going somewhere?" she asked, following him out to her office.

"I need a hair cut for my grandfather's charity dance on Friday. I should be back no later than one."

During their previous lunch, Edward had told her about the five hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner and auction he organized and hosted each year to benefit the support groups that championed the orphan diseases for which Calder was researching and developing drugs.

"Okay. By the way, thank you for the stationary. It's really beautiful." She gestured toward the boxes of personalized letterhead, envelopes, and note pads delivered to her that morning.

"It came already? I just ordered it Friday morning."

She handed him a sheet with her name embossed in gold script on ivory bond that was nearly as heavy as card stock. "You didn't need to order anything so extravagant."

"As assistant to the CEO, you deserve the best-especially after the great job you did yesterday. I never thought I'd see the day Kurt Preston would leave here smiling. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Since you'll be out, would you still like lunch?" she asked.

"If you don't mind, please." He took two steps toward the door and hesitated. Turning, he drew his eyebrows together. "Hannah, you have been taking the money for my lunches out of the petty cash box in the safe, right?"