out of work now, Amanda's options were limited. Someone had to bring in a salary and benefits. Her mom had been working part-time at a medical office, until the entire focus of her life had shifted to helping Julie beat her medical diagnosis. Her mother had been determined to travel to Denver, where Julie was going to complete a six month course of treatment at the National Jewish Hospital for her lung disease.
Someone had to be with Julie, to deal with the doctors and all the medical issues. Even more importantly, someone needed to be there to provide company and comfort.
Amanda hefted her bag as she exited the car. It suddenly felt very heavy. Because she had to face the facts. She had no choice but to try to get Logan's job on whatever terms he dictated.
Chapter 5
Logan strode into the office building with an excitement he hadn't felt in a long time. He had a war to wage. A pleasant war, but one which would require his best strategic thinking and canniest tactics. Though he didn't doubt the outcome, he was fairly certain that Amanda Thompson would give him a good fight.
He noticed his first problem as soon as he entered the outer office of his suite. The strangely dressed temp who'd made the original mistake with Amanda's interview was still sitting at his assistant's desk.
"What are you doing here," he asked. "Where's Ms. Lockwood?" His regular assistant was supposed to return the Monday after he left for London more than a week ago.
"Good morning," the girl chirped. "Bridget is still out."
"What the hell—Why?" The thought of all the problems that would have developed in the absence of both Ms. Lockwood and himself was enough to halt him in his tracks.
"I think she's still in the hospital." The woman—what the hell was her name—wriggled in her seat like a two-year-old.
"You think?" He clamped his teeth together to prevent the words he wanted to say from escaping. He hired people who knew what they were supposed to know. "Why wasn't I notified?"
A frown of anxiety appeared on her round face. "You were in London."
He plucked his Blackberry out of its holder. "You see this? It communicates all over the world. That's why I have it."
"I know that, sir." She looked down at the desk, and even her two ponytails looked more dejected than they had when he walked in. "But what would be the point of telling you she wasn't here when you weren't here either?"
"Heaven help me," he muttered. "Look." He leaned over the desk. "I need to know everything that happens in this office and in this company. Do you understand?"
She nodded, her big blue eyes fastened on his face as if she were afraid he'd bite if she broke the connection.
"Pick up a pen," he ordered. "Start writing."
He straightened up from her desk and strode toward the window. "Call the hospital and find out what's happening with Ms. Lockwood. I want to know where she is, what her condition is, and when she'll be back."
He stopped at the window and thrust his hands in his pockets as he looked out. Central Park greeted him, dark and bare in its winter nakedness. He could see cars like little ants scurrying along the curved roads.
"Send a large floral arrangement to her wherever she is," he said, still looking out the window. "Next, tell me what's happened with Ms. Thompson." He turned suddenly, spearing the assistant with a glare. "Unless you have a message from her?"
Biting her bottom lip, she shook her head.
"You did send her the job offer I forwarded to Ms. Lockwood?" Damnit. He relied totally on Ms. Lockwood. If he told her to do something, he assumed it was done. Of course, he hadn't heard from her at all, now that he thought about it. He'd been so busy getting the deal wrapped up with QDT.
"Ummm…" The assistant began rifling through some papers on her desk. "Yes, I'm sure I did."
A feeling of doom settled over Logan. Guilt, guilt and more guilt was plastered across the woman's face. "I sent it via email," he said. "Can you show me the forwarded message?"
She hit a bunch of numbers on the keyboard, but even he could see the randomness of her efforts.
He leaned over the desk to read the monitor. A long list of unread messages greeted him.
"What are you doing?" She put a hand up as if to hide the monitor.