"I heard what you said to Bryce about moving on in your husband hunt." He continued into her office and rested his hip on her side desk while he munched on his cookie. "Is that what you were doing all weekend-auditioning potential daddies?"

"What are you suggesting?" She glared up at him.

"Only that, if you're trying to punish me, you're doing a damn good job of it. You don't need to rub it in that you've already gotten involved with someone else."

"Why would you think that?"

"It sure as hell looks as if one of them got lucky." He pushed her hair away from her neck and traced the red mark on her throat. "I know I didn't give you this hickey."

"It's not a hickey. I burned myself with the curling iron on Saturday."

"Right."

Considering his abandonment and trust issues, the last thing she wanted was for him to think she could replace him so easily. However, it was no big surprise he didn't believe her.

He sorted through the cookie tin. "Didn't you bring any walnut balls or cinnamon-almond cookies?"

"No. I haven't had time to bake in the last two weeks."

The look on his face said he wasn't buying her explanation.

"You're paranoid," she accused. As if she would actually withhold his favorite cookies to get back at him.

"Am I? You deny flaunting your body since the charity dance to make me jealous?"

"Okay, so I admit I was dressing sexier to get your attention."

"It's not just my attention you've grabbed, Hannah. None of those lechers who've been hanging around here even knew you were alive until you began struttin' your stuff. I liked you just the way you were. Why'd you have to change yourself?"

It seemed Jordan saw her metamorphosis as a betrayal of sorts-almost as if he was afraid her new popularity would transform her in a similar way his ex-girlfriend's lesbian orgy had affected Marcy's preferences. Trying to make him jealous had only reinforced his mistrust and fear of commitment. "I wasn't dressing like that to attract other men, Jordan. Except I've given up on you, so I'm done playing the seductress. It really isn't me, anyway," she admitted.

She would never go back to dressing the part of the repressed, inhibited woman she'd once been. Still, she was no sex kitten, either.

"That's why I went shopping with my mother on Saturday afternoon and bought some outfits that are a little more classic and sophisticated." She'd been forced to leave most of her new clothes for alterations, but fortunately the waist on the knee-length pencil skirt rode on the swell of her hips, so she'd worn it today. "I'm really not interested in attracting a man who's only looking for a good time between the sheets."

Jordan fingered the drape on the cowl neckline of her fitted silk blouse. "You look very classy. Your mother helped you pick this outfit?"

"Believe it or not, she knows quite a lot about fashion. We had a long talk and agreed to try being friends. I had a wonderful time with her."

"I'm glad you're getting along better."

"Candace actually dresses pretty conservatively when she's not going out of her way to play the bimbo. She even paid for a whole new designer wardrobe for me."

"That's great, except those perverts have already seen your assets. How will you know if a guy is really interested in you or if he just wants to get you naked?"

Good question. "I guess I'll have to dig deep to be sure." She shrugged. "But make no mistake, Jordan, I'm going to continue searching for someone who'll love me. I deserve it."

"You won't get an argument from me." He stared down at her for moment and shrugged. "Maybe I am a little paranoid. But it's only because the idea of you being with another man makes me crazy."

"Then prepare to go insane. Because I'm making it my mission to find someone who'll make me feel the way you do and love me as well."

"Go insane? I'm already halfway there. Do you know what I did last night?"

She shook her head.

"I sat outside your apartment and watched your front door all evening to make sure your date left. What do you call that if not nuts?"

"Some might misinterpret it as love-but we both know differently, don't we?"

"If that's what love does to a guy," he muttered, "I was smart to avoid it all these years." He spun on his heels and headed back toward his office with the cookie tin under his arm. He stopped in the doorway and spun back to face her. "Don't worry. Now that you've emerged from your dowdy little cocoon, I have no doubt you'll find a man more than willing to give you what I can't. Just don't ask me to like it."

"The operative word is won't, Jordan-not can't."

"What do you mean our reservation was cancelled?" Hannah shifted the phone receiver on her shoulder late Thursday morning and dropped her face into her hand. "What idiot would do something like that?"

"You did." Mrs. Baker, the hotel's banquet manager explained, "We received written notice from you on Tuesday that Calder was ending the conference a day earlier than expected. I have it right here on your personal stationary, signed by you."

That was impossible. "Are you sure it's not a photocopy of my letterhead?"

"I doubt it. It's on extremely high quality paper with embossed gold lettering."

Okay, so it was definitely from Hannah's stock.

"That date has not been cancelled, Mrs. Baker. I was calling to give you a final count."

"I'm sorry, but as soon as we received your letter, we booked a last minute wedding. We've got engaged couples camped out in our lobby, waiting for cancellations in June."

Hannah mentally ticked off the ramifications, and her heart hammered in her chest. "Well, what are we supposed to do now? The symposium is in less than two weeks."

"I don't know. The hotel can still accommodate your party for breakfast, but the ballroom is booked after noon. And it appears some of the conference rooms have also been reallocated."

Fabulous. Jordan was going to blow a gasket.

"Okay. Reinstate our reservation for breakfast, please." Hannah slammed down the phone and held her head between her hands for several seconds. There was no time like the present to deliver the bad news.

She strode into Jordan's office, the bitter taste of dread rising in her throat.

He listened to her repeat her conversation with the hotel manager, and his eyes narrowed. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. "How could they have a letter from you if you didn't send one? If they received it on Tuesday, it was probably mailed on Friday or Saturday."

In other words, the morning after she'd turned down his proposition for her to become his mistress.

"You think I did this?"

The suspicion burning in his cynical gaze seared her as thoroughly as if he'd physically burned her. The pain was just as intense. His prolonged silence testified to his doubt, doubling her suffering. "Well, thank you very much, Mr. Calder. If you believe I'd do something this petty, you need serious help. Maybe you should go for hypnotherapy to cure your paranoia."

"I never said I believed it."

"No, but you don't disbelieve it, either."

Obviously, too many people had disappointed him in his lifetime for him to trust anyone.

"Hannah, I'm just looking for an explanation."

"I don't have one."

"Okay. So how do you suggest we fix this? Every hotel banquet hall in the state was probably booked months ago."

"I don't have an answer for that, either. When I do, you'll be the first to know." She spun on her heels and stormed back to her office.

If the hotel had received correspondence on her letterhead, someone must have deliberately done this to discredit her.

Except who? Not a single soul would benefit from her being fired, so it had to be purely an act of spite or vengeance.

She knew her transformation had upset a number of the other female employees at Calder. Could one of the women hate her that much? Letting the air out of two of her tires was one thing, but this was pure evil.

She recalled the loathing in Renee's eyes while she'd issued her threats after the charity auction, and shivers ran up Hannah's back. As one of the few people who knew anything about the specific arrangements for the conference, she was the most likely suspect. Except Jordan had given security strict instructions not to admit his ex-assistant to the building.

And if one of the other women wanted to hurt Hannah, she would've needed the details about the conference in order to sabotage it, so that drastically narrowed down the field of suspects to a few select people within the company.

So how had someone gotten a piece of her stationary? She hadn't had the personal letterhead before the handwritten draft of the quarterly report was tampered with two weeks ago. Since then, she'd been extra vigilant about locking the doors whenever she left her office, and Jordan had been just as careful. She couldn't think of a single time she'd left the office unattended for more than a few minutes.

Gasping, she clapped her hand over her mouth. Friday evening. That click-clacking she'd heard could've been the sound of one of her file drawers opening.

Except....Jordan had locked the door to the suite. Not to mention, it had been almost six o'clock-well after normal work hours-so the building had been closed to the public. There was no way it could've been Renee.

The guilty look on Callie's face on Monday flashed through Hannah's memory. When she'd pulled her last minute switch at lunch, Hannah had thought her friend had simply felt crummy about assuming the worst of her. Was it possible there had been more to Callie's remorseful expression?

Maybe before Bryce had left for the night on Friday he'd said something to Callie about his lunch date with Hannah on Monday.

No. She shook her head. She was getting as paranoid as Jordan. Her friend would never do something that malicious.

Then again, Hannah had never believed her roommate would screw her fiance, either. Her grandmother had always said she was too trusting. And she had talked about the symposium to Callie quite a bit during their lunches.

Either way, solving the answer to this puzzle would have to wait until she cleared up this catastrophe. The conference was only two weeks away. She didn't have the vaguest idea where to start. But somehow she'd find a way to fix this. She refused to give the creep who'd tried to discredit her the satisfaction of seeing her fail.

After logging off her computer, Hannah locked her desk and the filing cabinets and grabbed her tote. She poked her head into Jordan's office. "You'll have to get your own lunch today, Mr. Calder, because I'm leaving."

Damn. He'd really blown it. Jordan stared out the window, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Hannah was right about him being paranoid.

She'd never done anything to give him cause to mistrust her, and his first instinct had been to suspect she'd betrayed him. She had every reason to be furious-and hurt. In fact, he wouldn't blame her if she never came back.

But she would. She was the most conscientious employee he'd ever had. He should be shot for even entertaining the idea she would sabotage the conference. If anyone deserved to have this entire disaster dumped in his lap, he did.

He spun around to his computer and accessed the hotel's phone number from the file Hannah kept updated on the network drive. The first order of business was to get a copy of that so-called cancellation letter.

While he waited for the banquet manager to fax him a duplicate, he poured himself a mug of coffee and shoved a butter cookie into his mouth. After the way he'd hurt her, it tasted like dust.

A tapping on his doorjamb drew his attention to the office threshold.

"Where was Hannah racing off to?" Bryce asked. "I saw her doing the hundred yard dash out of the building. She looked like someone had kicked her in the gut."

"Thanks, make me feel like an even bigger heel." Jordan poured another mug of coffee and handed it to Bryce.

"What'd you do?" His friend asked in an accusing tone, studying Jordan's face. Bryce's gaze narrowed just before he closed his eyes completely. "Oh, shit. You finally screwed her, didn't you?"

"That's not what happened. At least, not today."

"But you are sleeping with her?"

"That depends on how you define sleeping. We got involved when I took her to Washington with me."

"Like you had no idea that would happen, right?"

"No. I didn't consciously plan on it." Jordan sauntered back to his desk and flopped in his chair. "Okay, so I guess deep down I did. I couldn't help it. All I could think about was being with her."

"So what happened today?"

"I made her feel like crap." Jordan told Bryce about the cancelled reservation and his reaction. When he finished, he tossed his hands up and let them drop. "Now I guess I'll start calling other hotels and pray for a miracle."

The fax/copier outside his door beeped. He dashed to the outer office and waited while the machine finished spitting out the copy of the letter. Scanning the page, he muttered a string of four letter words. It was Hannah's letterhead all right.

"This isn't her signature." He tapped the paper, wandering back to his office. "Hannah's capital H's have a big loop. And it's definitely not Renee's handwriting. I could barely read her hen-scratching."

Setting his coffee on the desk, Bryce rose and peered over Jordan's shoulder at the bold handwriting. "That H is pretty distinctive, though. You'd think the forger would've at least been smart enough to try to copy the style of Hannah's writing."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? So I'm looking for an imbecile who makes unique H's."

"It has to be someone who works here." Bryce picked up his coffee and sipped it. "How else would the person have gotten a piece of Hannah's stationary?"

"Exactly. What's weird is I've seen this particular style of H before, but for the life of me, I can't place where."

"It looks familiar to me, too. Why don't you just have all the employees give you a handwriting sample?"

"Yeah, right." Jordan sputtered. "I'll line them up right after lunch. Do me a favor," he said, sinking into the chair behind his desk. "Let me borrow Callie for the rest of the afternoon to cover my phone. I have to get started on finding a solution to this conference fiasco."

"Sure." Bryce turned toward the door. "I'll send her right over."

"And, Bryce? Your assistant doesn't need to know why Hannah isn't here. Right now, no one is above suspicion."

"You dumbass, Callie and Hannah are friends."

"Right. And your point is?"

"My secretary isn't involved in this plot against your assistant." Bryce strolled back over to the desk and jerked his thumb toward the letter in Jordan's hand. "Friends don't do things like that to each other."