“Then what good is it to me?”
Stephen pushed himself out of the chair and began pacing again. He rubbed his chin and stared at the floor. He did some of his best thinking like this.
He turned suddenly to Richard and snapped his fingers. “We could make her an expert.”
“Make her one?” Richard asked. “How?”
“By giving her other work to do,” Stephen said. “I’ve suspected for a while that someone on the warehouse crew is stealing. What if I put Caroline on the case? I’ll get handwriting samples from all the employees and have her look for traits such as dishonesty, untrustworthiness.”
Richard nodded slowly. “Yes, I see what you mean.”
“We can’t fire a man over a handwriting sample,” Stephen said. “But we can determine the employees with those traits and have them watched. We just might turn up our thief.”
“You could be onto something here,” Richard said.
“I can use her to screen prospective job applicants. Weed out the questionable ones.” Stephen gripped the back of his desk chair. “Once I’ve established her credibility here, I can loan her to other prominent businessmen in town.”
Richard frowned. “That sounds like we’re just using her.”
“I’m giving her a chance to use this graphology thing she’s so proud of,” Stephen insisted. “Once the other businessmen see what she’s capable of they can testify to her credentials. And when the Pickette case gets to court, Caroline will be the leading graphologist in Los Angeles and her word will be accepted.”
“I don’t know…”
“She wants to use this graphology skill of hers, doesn’t she?”
“Yes,” Richard said. “She applied with Pinkerton but they turned her down. She was very disappointed. She wanted that job. Her father sent her here from Europe to find a husband, but she wants to work instead.”
“Well, then, you see? I’m doing her a favor.”
“You’re doing yourself a favor, Steve.”
Stephen’s face hardened. “I’m not going to let Russell Pickette make a fool out of me.”
A few moments of silence passed before Richard slapped his knee and rose from the chair. “All right, we’ll do it your way. And it just might work, as long…”
“As long as what?”
“As long as you’re sure Pickette’s document is really a forgery,” Richard said.
Stephen started pacing again. Russell Pickette had been a pain in his side ever since he’d shown up two weeks ago waving a document that claimed he had title to a two-hundred-acre farm belonging to Stephen.
Stephen didn’t know Russell Pickette personally. Had never met him. He recognized his name from the ledger book his accountant used to keep track of the semiannual rent Pickette paid on the acreage he farmed. It was a small amount. Insignificant, really.
Pickette didn’t look like a con artist, or a thief, just a worn, weary farmer. But he was trying to defraud Stephen, just the same. Cheat him out of a prime piece of real estate, just when Stephen was about to pull together a large business deal involving that property.
Pacing behind his desk, Stephen got angry again just thinking about Pickette. Then, as it always did, humiliation surged through him, deep in the pit of his stomach.
Pickette claimed the document had been written by Stephen’s father, George Monterey. Stephen cringed at the memory.
George had died when Stephen was a boy, and Stephen still remembered what that felt like. Uncle Colin had agreed to take in him and his little brother, Thomas. Even now, standing in his office in the West Adams Boulevard home, Stephen remembered the day he and Thomas had arrived at Uncle Colin’s home. Colin hadn’t wanted them to forget, either. He’d had a photographer on hand that day to mark the occasion.
Still pacing, Stephen rubbed his hand over his chest. What his father had done still made him sick, all these years later.
He stopped, realizing Richard was speaking to him.
“What?” Stephen asked.
“I said, do you want to go ahead with this?” Richard asked.
Stephen was tired, but restless, too, for some reason. Memories of his father, that Pickette bastard, Uncle Colin—they filled his head tonight. But something else nagged at him, too. Something he couldn’t pinpoint.
“Get her in here tomorrow,” Stephen said. “Put her to work. I want to resolve this issue with Pickette.”
“It might not be that simple,” Richard said. “I don’t think Caroline was all that happy to be here.”
Stephen waved away his concern. “She’ll take the job.”
“All right. I’ll talk with her first thing in the morning,” Richard said, and headed for the door.
“Richard? I want you to keep this Pickette problem to yourself,” Stephen said. “Miss Sommerfield doesn’t need to know what I have planned for her just yet.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Richard said. “When she finds out, she’s bound to think you set her up just so she’d testify on your behalf.”
“I’ll take care of Miss Sommerfield.”
“Caroline Sommerfield looks like a handful,” Richard said, grinning. “Are you sure you can handle her?”
Stephen sank into his desk chair. Of course he could handle her. But it would be a hell of a lot easier if he could stop thinking about her naked.
Chapter Four
“She said no?” Stephen rocked forward in his desk chair, glaring at Richard. “Caroline Sommerfield said no? She turned down my job offer?”
Richard nodded slowly and sank into the chair across from him. “Turned it down flat.”
Morning sunlight beamed in through the open windows, brightening the room and bringing a little breeze with it.
“Did you explain to her that Monterey Enterprises is one of the largest, most prestigious corporations in the country?” Stephen demanded.
“I did.”
“That I have holdings that reach around the world?”
“Yes,” Richard said, “I told her that as well.”
“That she should count herself damned lucky that I’m even considering her for a job?”
Richard rose. “I did that, Stephen. I told her all those things.”
“Did you offer her the salary I specified?”
“Yes, and I even went beyond that figure,” Richard said.
Stephen shoved away the reports he’d been looking at. “Then what the hell else does she want?”
Richard shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Stephen pushed himself out of his chair and started pacing. Until last night he’d never even heard of a graphologist. But now, this morning, he absolutely had to have one.
And not just because of those dreams he’d had last night.
Stephen mumbled a curse as he paced. Damn that Russell Pickette. That rogue wasn’t going to get away with stealing his land, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to make a fool of him.
Stephen stopped pacing. “I need that Sommerfield woman. And I don’t care what it takes to get her here.”
“I’ve