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Prince of Midtown by Jennifer Lewis
721 SECRETS
Keeping you up to date on all that goes on at Manhattan’s most elite address!
Americans expect monarchs to be starched and stodgy—Caspia’s crown prince Sebastian Stone is anything but. The part-time resident of apartment 12B is a knockout with onyx eyes and a chiselled chest. And he likes to show off that great bod! Just ask the multitude of women he’s left in his wake. Or ask Tessa Banks, his lucky midtown assistant. Even in her tailored business suits, Tessa has been known to drool after her royal boss. But who could blame her? The sexy prince was sorely missed at the building’s recent landmark party. Rumour has it he has taken his lowly secretary to his homeland palace. They’ve been spotted tête-a-tête at numerous Caspian locations—and not over business. How did a middle-class manager like Tessa morph into Cinderella anyway? We’d love to know her secret! Meanwhile let’s hope Tessa can handle the smooth moves of the legendary lothario. The prince-we-pant-over is due back to 721 any day. Only then can we sort out super-sexy fact from ultra-sexy fiction…
Marriage, Manhattan Style by Barbara Dunlop
721 SECRETS
Keeping you up to date on all that goes on at Manhattan’s most elite address!
The hottest ticket in town—or at least at 721 Park Avenue—is the fifth anniversary party of Reed and Elizabeth Wellington. At Manhattan’s top hotel, it’s the place to see and be seen. And, apparently, there’s lots to see with the Wellingtons. Rumour has it that Elizabeth’s been trying hard to conceive—though one wonders how hard it could be when your husband is a blue-eyed babe like Reed. Maybe that’s why he whisked her away to the French Riviera for a whirlwind vacation. Doting Reed has also hired his wife a chauffeur. Though some suspect the burly driver’s really a bodyguard. For a hopeful mother-to-be? Either way, there have been so many comings and goings up in Penthouse A, so many whisperings, that you can’t help wondering what else Reed is up to. Here’s some advice: baby-making takes two, so get busy, Reed. Meanwhile, we’ll polish the silver spoon!
PRINCE OF MIDTOWN
BY
JENNIFER LEWIS
MARRIAGE, MANHATTAN STYLE
BY
BARBARA DUNLOP
MILLS & BOON
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PRINCE OF MIDTOWN
Jennifer Lewis has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic, and she worked in media and the arts before growing bold enough to put pen to paper. Jennifer is happily settled in Yew York with her family, and she would love to hear from readers at jen@jen-lewis.com.
To the editors at Desire who’ve encouraged me and supported my books, including Melissa Jeglinski, my first editor Demetria Lucas and my current editor Diana Ventimiglia. Big thanks to the people who read this book while I was writing it, including Amanda, Anne, Anne-Marie, Betty, Carol, Cynthia, Leeanne, Marie and Mel, and my agent Andrea. Once again I am indebted to Amanda and Carol for their business expertise.
Dear Reader,
I grew up surrounded by old hand-coloured editions of fairy tales that had belonged to my mother and her mother and probably her mother, too. When my editor asked me to write this story for the Park Avenue Scandals series, I jumped at the chance to create a prince from an exotic faraway country.
While some of the story takes place in the New York City area where I live with my own handsome prince, I had a great time inventing Prince Sebastian’s homeland of Caspia. I think everyone should have a chance to create a country. What would you like to see in yours? Mine has warm sunny weather (with no humidity!), calm blue seas, rugged terrain for hiking, striking classical architecture and delicious Mediterranean food.
By the time I’d finished writing I was sure the ancient and picturesque nation of Caspia could be found on a map somewhere between Italy and Greece. I was also ready to book a trip there as soon as possible.
I hope you enjoy your journey to Caspia with Sebastian and Tessa.
Jennifer Lewis
One
“You can’t leave.”
Sebastian Stone, Crown Prince of Caspia, spoke with such authority and conviction that for a moment Tessa Banks actually believed him.
Her boss’s hard, handsome features seemed taut with stronger emotion than usual. He shoved a hand through his black hair and rose from the wide antique desk in his Midtown Manhattan office.
Tessa’s stomach contracted with anxiety—and with the infuriating heat of arousal he always stirred in her.
Hang tough. This is your life.
She took a deep breath. “I’ve been your personal assistant for almost five years. I appreciate the freedom and responsibility you’ve entrusted me with, but it’s time for me to move on.”
“Move on?” He blew out an exasperated breath. “This is not a gypsy caravan. It’s a business. I’m counting on you to help me sort out this mess that’s been dumped in my lap.”
Tessa resisted the urge to point out that Caspia Designs might well have more in common with a gypsy caravan than an actual business. The conglomerate of luxury brands was colorful, extravagant and weighted with tradition. A crystal ball might reveal more lucid information than accounting ledgers that could only be described as “creative.”
It was obvious, however, that her boss was not in a joking mood.
He strode across the office and grabbed the pile of papers from his in-box. “Please schedule a meeting tomorrow morning with Reed Wellington. I wish to consult him about my plans for Caspia Designs.” He paused and flicked through the mail, a frown on his majestic brow. “And you must find me a new house sitter.”
What? Did he plan to simply ignore her resignation?
Tessa’s skin prickled with a combination of fury and desperation as she stood in speechless silence.
Her boss shook his head as he studied one paper. Accounts receivable, probably. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
She wished she wasn’t leaving at a time when Sebastian needed help pulling Caspia Designs together. He’d been handed the reins of the once-prestigious company by his father, the king, only to discover it was in a shambles.
But if this was how little concern he showed for her needs, she should be glad to leave him in the lurch.
Things must be serious, though. For one thing, he was wearing a suit. Usually his broad chest bore the insignia of whatever luxury brand he’d most recently convinced to open a boutique in his beloved Caspia. Fendi, Prada, Gucci—if there was a T-shirt with the logo on it, Sebastian cheerfully wore it to celebrate the new partnership.
Today fine gray wool draped his powerful physique. She should heave a sigh of relief that at least she didn’t have to tear her gaze from his impressive biceps.
Right now she was too damn angry to care.
She laid her company PDA on the desk. “I’m moving to California in two weeks. If you prefer, I can leave immediately.”
Sebastian muttered a curse, but still didn’t look up. He flipped over a page of the report she’d put together and traced a column of numbers with a sturdy finger.
Tessa blinked, struggling to keep her breathing under control.
After all this time she was another office fixture, like the Aeron chair, the platinum penholder or the rack of servers. A simple, functional object without a will of its own.
“Goodbye.” Her voice shook as she took a step toward the door. She had to climb over one of the cardboard crates of dusty papers that had consumed most of this last month, including three solid weekends. She’d given enough of her life in service to the Crown of Caspia.
“Where are you going?”
Sebastian’s voice rattled the antique floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the nineteenth-century brownstone with light.
“If you’d cared enough to listen, you’d know I’m leaving for California!” She’d never raised her voice to him before.
Sebastian put the file on the leather surface of the desk. “Tessa, you can’t be serious?”
“Why not?” She wished her voice didn’t sound so whiny and uncertain.
“Because I need you.”
Spoken in his deep voice, the words echoed through her.
She steadied herself with a hand on the door frame.
If only he did need her, not just a faceless assistant who took care of everything so efficiently that she rendered herself invisible.
But he didn’t. He had celebutantes and supermodels and starlets from Hollywood to Bollywood hurling themselves at him every minute of the day.
She should know. She fielded their calls.
“Tessa.” He stepped toward her, skillfully negotiating an open box of papers. “You do realize I’d be lost without you.”
His eyes fixed on hers with penetrating intensity. Large, dark and slightly almond shaped, those eyes had the power to make her do almost anything.
Her toes curled inside her shoes.
He’s just saying it to stop you from leaving him in the lurch.
Still…
She lifted her chin. “I’m turning thirty in a month.” She hesitated. Her personal life wasn’t his business.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Typical. Why would he care that she wanted a husband, children, a real life?
No need to mention that, she told herself. Better to leave with a shred of dignity. “It’s time for a change.”
“Tessa.” He crossed his arms and stared at her. “If you were dissatisfied with your position in any way, you should have come to me immediately. Is it your job title? Your salary? We’ll change them right now.”
“It’s neither of those things.”
She hesitated, anxious not to reveal that he was part of the reason she needed to leave.
Sebastian Stone, christened The Prince of Midtown by the New York tabloids who tracked his every bold move, was a constant reminder of everything she was missing.
Especially since he barely knew she was alive.
“I feel as if I’m stuck in a rut. My life is slipping through my fingers…” Could she come up with anything that wasn’t a soggy cliché?
“And California is the golden land of opportunity?”
“I know it isn’t, but I need to shake things up.” She shrank from his forceful black gaze and paced across the room. Her heart hammered beneath her designer dress.
“What’s the job you’ve been offered?”
She shoved her hair behind her ear. “I don’t have a job lined up yet. I’m sure I can find one when I get there.”
“Then why California? You’re not running off after some man, are you?”
Tessa froze. Her stomach lurched. “There is someone, yes.”
Sebastian hesitated. An unfamiliar sensation crept over him. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”
“Well.” Tessa blinked. “You’re my boss.”
“But we’re friends, too, are we not? You could have told me you were being swept off your feet and were preparing to run away and desert me.”
“You’ve been in Caspia for the last three months. I haven’t seen you.”
True.
“And it’s not as if he’s asked me to marry him or anything, so there wasn’t that much to tell.” She shoved a hand into her hair. Long, golden hair. Rumpled, as if she’d been running her fingers through it all day.
Unexpected desire mingled with the irritation in his blood. “So he’s asked you to move clear across the country for him, but he’s not even proposed to you?”
Her high-boned cheeks colored. “No. It’s not like that.”
“Who is this man?”
Tessa blew out a breath. “His name’s Patrick Ramsay. He’s a lawyer.” She picked up a paperweight off the desk and held it poised in her elegant fingers. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months. He’s joining a practice in L.A. and, two days ago, he asked me if I’d like to move there with him.”
“And you said yes?” Disbelief and indignation made him splutter.
She spun on her long, slender legs and strode across the room. “I told him I had to think about it. Now I’ve thought about it.” She kept her face turned away from him. “And I’ve decided it’s just the change I need.”
“You’re wrong.” He’d never been so sure of anything.
She turned to face him, her green eyes wide. “I feel bad leaving, especially now that you’ve taken over Caspia Designs. I know there’s a lot of work to do. But what if this is my one chance?”
Her voice rose to a high note that tugged at something in his chest. How could such a beautiful and talented woman be willing to throw her whole life away on a gamble?
“The name Patrick Ramsay rings a bell.” An alarm bell.
“He’s quite well known. He represented Elaina Ivanovic in her divorce from her husband Igor.”
Sebastian’s hackles shot up. “The divorce lawyer?” He’d seen that smarmy hustler on TV. Patrick Ramsay didn’t know the meaning of the term low blow.
She nodded, jerked her imploring gaze from him and started across the far end of the room. “He’s very nice, really. Busy, as you’d expect, but kind and thoughtful and—Oh!”
She tripped on an open box and sprawled forward. Adrenaline surged through Sebastian and he leaped across the room. “Are you hurt?”
“No! I’m fine. How silly of me.” She blushed charmingly as he helped her up, her hand hot inside his.
On her feet, she pushed her hair back. “It’s my fault for leaving these boxes everywhere. I’ll stack them against the wall before I go.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” He still held her hand. He didn’t want to let go of it. To let go of Tessa.
She was the best assistant he’d ever had. Since he now spent most of his time in Europe, he needed someone he could count on to show up for work even with no one else there. Tessa had proven herself a sharp-minded self-starter and—until now—as steadfast as the rocks in the ancient harbor at Caspia.
He trusted her with everything, from his personal affairs to the embarrassing state of Caspia Designs’s financials.
She tried to pull her hand back. He held it fast.
“Tessa, you are indispensable to me. What can I say that will make you stay?”
Her gaze skittered over his face and he sensed the swell of her emotion. Her muscles tensed, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t form the words.
Why had he never noticed how mobile and expressive her mouth was? Or that her skin had an iridescent sheen, like a haze of gold dust?
In that moment of contemplation she jerked back and tugged her hand from his grasp. Cool air assaulted his palm.
She turned and strode away, her slim body held stiff. “I don’t want anything.”
“I do.”
The words fell from his lips before he’d formulated the thoughts to go along with them.
It pained him to see her pacing the floor like a nervous colt, ready to gallop off to disaster.
She belonged here, with him.
His own conviction surprised him. Was some primal masculine jealousy aroused by the thought of her with another man?
Possibly.
She bent over a box filled with hanging files. Her back strained under the weight as she tried to lift it.
“Put that down.” He marched over, hefted the box off the floor and shoved it against the wall. The exertion felt good. Then he heaved another into position next to it. He glanced at Tessa. “I don’t want you injuring yourself.”
A brow shot up and her green eyes flashed. “I may be skinny, but I’m strong.”
She picked up a box, dumped it next to his, then dusted her hands and placed them on her hips. Which had the unfortunate effect of drawing his attention to the hourglass waist hidden inside her simple gray dress.
Desire heated his blood.
“You know you’re only making it more impossible for me to let you go.” He smiled.
She flashed back a defiant grin. Then it faded. “I can’t stay.”
Her pulse fluttered at her neck and he resisted a sudden, fierce urge to press his lips to the quivering, warm skin.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”
She let out a sharp laugh. “You can’t let me? Off with her head? Those days are over, even if you are a prince.”
He laughed. “A beheading does sound counterproductive. But I do insist you give the ancient, sovereign nation of Caspia at least the customary two weeks’ notice.” A plan blossomed in his mind. “You must come to Caspia with me. Immediately.”
“Oh.”
A tiny fire lit inside her eyes. Good.
“I need you to arrange an immediate meeting of the principals of Caspia Designs. The chief executives of each of the subsidiary brands must be there, no matter what it takes to bring them.”
He watched for her reaction. The prospect of cajoling pleasure-seeking European plutocrats into attending to actual business might make some people quit on the spot.
But not Tessa. A glow of appreciation filled him as she simply nodded.
“To be honest, when I took the job, I hoped it would involve some travel. I’d be glad to come to Caspia before I go.”
Had he truly never taken her to Caspia before? Surely he’d remember the vision of all that golden hair being tossed by the sea breeze. He’d grown to think of travel as a tiresome necessity. He clapped his hands together. “We’ll fly tomorrow in my private plane. Arrange for a 2:00 p.m. departure.”
Energy surged through him as his plan took shape. This trip would take Tessa’s mind off that divorce-mongering cad who wanted to steal her away from him.
Not that his interest in her was personal, of course. He took both business and pleasure very seriously, which meant keeping them strictly separate.
But the charms of Caspia—combined with some judicious charm on his part—would soon make Tessa realize she’d been crazy to ever think of leaving.
Two
Relief surged through Sebastian as he grasped his old friend’s hand in a warm handshake. Reed Wellington was the kind of man you wanted on your side in a crisis. His clear blue eyes never reflected a hint of worry.
“Sebastian, I’m sorry I couldn’t make the snowboarding trip to Kilimanjaro, but Elizabeth thought it sounded, well, crazy.”
Sebastian laughed. “I guess that’s the problem with being married. You wind up stuck with someone who truly cares about you.”
“Yes. And you have to stop hurling yourself off mountaintops.” His eyes crinkled into a smile. “When are you going to get married, eh?”
“Never. Or when I meet the right woman. Whichever comes first.” He got this question a lot.
“No one can accuse you of not trying your best to bed every eligible woman in the world.”
“Just doing my royal duty.”
“Seriously, isn’t there a lot of pressure on you to sire the next heir to the throne of Caspia?”
“I try not to think about that. Besides, we Caspians often live to be over a hundred and my father’s barely sixty.”
“All that goats’ milk yogurt, huh?”
“Food of the gods.”
They shared a chuckle but Sebastian couldn’t help thinking Reed’s laugh was a little too hearty. Forced, even. And what was it with married people trying to shove eternal bondage down your throat?
“You’re here about Caspia Designs?” Reed gestured for him to sit in the leather chair opposite the wide walnut desk. The room was decorated like the headquarters of an eighteenth-century shipping magnate.
Sebastian eased himself into the chair. “I am. I’m in dire need of your business expertise. I’m afraid the company is in worse financial shape than I’d suspected.”
Reed’s expression changed to one of concern. “How so?”
“Until I took over the reins a year ago, Caspia Designs was overseen by Deon Maridis, an old and close friend of my father’s. He’s a good man, but the company’s profits went into a slow slide under his watch.”
Sebastian fought an urge to loosen his collar. “Last year the company actually lost money.”
“What?” Reed sat up. “I confess luxury brands are not my area of expertise, and I can imagine the company is mature and not growing much, but Caspia Designs owns some of the most renowned luxury brands in the world. Aria cars, Bugaretti Jewels, LeVerge Champagne, Carriage Leathers…Why, I bought my wife one of their bags last Christmas and it nearly bankrupted me.” He laughed for a second, then frowned. “How can they be losing money?”
Sebastian leaned forward. “Our brands have been known as the best of the best since the 1920s when the company went public, but many of them have barely changed since. Production methods are outdated and inefficient, and there’s been little effort to attract new customers. There are now a host of luxury jewelers, vintners and the like, and most of them have better distribution and marketing than the ones owned by Caspia Designs. I want to shake up the companies and get them operating like a real business. I also plan to market the goods to a younger audience.”
“Sounds as if you need to do some rebranding. Like Burberry and Mini Cooper.”
“Exactly.”
Reed tilted his head and smiled. “Sort of like you’ve been doing with Caspia.”
Sebastian couldn’t help a swell of pride. “It’s true. Ten years ago, Caspia had virtually no foreign investors, no tourism, little business beyond those that had existed for hundreds of years.”
Reed raised an eyebrow. “Now you have hotels and luxury boutiques and restaurants for tourists to spend their money in. And you accomplished it almost singlehandedly over the last ten years.”
“My assistant, Tessa, must get some of the credit.” Her green eyes flashed in his mind. “She’s an organizational genius.”
“You’re lucky to have her.”
“Don’t I know it.” Sebastian’s fist clenched. How could she plan to abandon him at a time like this? “And we’ll be working hard to make Caspia Designs a good investment for all our shareholders.”
“I don’t doubt you’ll succeed.”
“I intend to, but I’m used to building from scratch, not fixing something that’s broken. I need your advice on how to turn the individual companies around, and fast.”
“Hmm.” Reed tapped his gold pen on his blotter. “If I were you, I’d start by scheduling a meeting with the President and CEO—or their equivalents—of each company within Caspia Designs. Get them all together and read them the riot act.”
“I’ve already asked Tessa to schedule a meeting.”
“Excellent. At that meeting, challenge them to come up with ten ways to immediately increase market share and profitability in their own company.” He gave Sebastian a series of examples of companies who’d effected a similar change by bringing in experienced managers or reinventing their product for modern markets. “You could hire a consulting firm to investigate and give you additional ideas.”
“I prefer to solve our problems internally. These are all businesses with quality products. They’ve been resting on their laurels, and it’s time to shake them up.”
“I can see them shaking already. You can do anything you set your mind to. Even snowboarding down Kilimanjaro.” He leaned back with a wistful smile.
Sebastian’s chest filled with regret that his friend had missed the experience. “You should have been there.”
Reed looked away, picked up a pen and tapped it on his blotter. “Yes. Well. I have other commitments now.” A muscle twitched at his temple. His blue gaze seemed less bright than usual.
“How is Elizabeth? I haven’t seen her in a long time. Is she still your secret weapon on the doubles court, as well as the love of your life?”
Reed’s eyes crinkled. “She sure is. We’ll have to get together for a game sometime with you and whoever your current mixed-doubles partner is.”
Sebastian shrugged. “I’m playing singles at the moment. Got business to take care of.”
“Even if we don’t see you on the courts, you must come to our anniversary party.”
“What is it, three years?”
“Five.” Reed’s jaw stiffened.
Not the most reassuring indication of marital bliss.
“That’s great.” He leaned over the desk and slapped Reed on the arm. Tried to sound enthusiastic. “Just let me know where to show up. And you know the two of you have an open invitation to visit Caspia again whenever you like.”
“I’ll take you up on that soon. Right now I’m in the throes of starting a new company. It’s sucking up even more of my free time than all that partying we used to do when we were younger.”
“Who says I’ve stopped?” Sebastian raised a brow.
“You always did have impressive stamina. One day you’ll meet a woman you actually want to stay home with.”
“So they tell me, but I don’t plan to wave the white flag of surrender anytime soon.”
The doorman pulled open the door and Sebastian stepped into the lobby of his building. Vivian Vannick-Smythe’s two fluffy white dogs stopped scratching at the priceless Oriental rug and turned to growl at him.
If that woman led him around on a string all day, he wouldn’t be in a good mood, either. Sebastian shot the dogs a sympathetic glance.
“Prince Sebastian!” Vivian turned to him with a winning smile. Or had too much plastic surgery left her expression permanently fixed like that?
“Hello, Vivian.”
“How lovely to see you here. I noticed you haven’t been around much lately.”
“I’ve been in Caspia.”
“Ahh.” Her dogs lunged at his pant leg, yowling and snapping at the end of their embroidered leashes. “I read about those nasty storms in the Mediterranean. I do hope Caspia didn’t suffer too much damage.”
“There were some losses to the olive crops, but happily no one was hurt.”
“What a relief. Backward countries do seem to suffer the most from these things.”
Sebastian’s hackles shot up. “Caspia is in no way backward. If you were to visit…” Perish the thought. “You’d find a thriving, modern country on the brink of becoming one of the prime luxury tourist destinations in the world.”
“How charmingly passionate you are about your homeland.”
Sebastian glanced up to see if the elevator was coming. Yes, thank God.
The doors opened and Vivian’s paisley skirt swirled about her ankles as she walked in. Her dogs yapped around Sebastian’s ankles, loud in the enclosed space.
“Hold the elevator!” A deep voice rang across the marbled lobby.
Sebastian looked up to see Gage Lattimer diving past the doorman.
Vivian’s dogs diverted their hostile intentions to him. Fortunately for Sebastian, Vivian followed suit.
“Why, Gage, our man of mystery. I was just chatting with Prince Sebastian.” She shone that fixed smile on him. “He should be a role model to you. He does live up to his clean-cut image.”
Clean-cut? Sebastian resisted the urge to test his chin for stubble. He’d been called a lot of things, but clean-cut wasn’t one of them. Maybe she meant the suit?
He shot a puzzled look at Gage.
“Are you implying something?” Gage raised an eyebrow at Vivian.
“Moi?” She forced a laugh. “Of course not. I believe people’s personal affairs should be kept private.”
Gage shook his head.
An awkward silence thickened in the air. Well, not exactly silence, what with all the growling.
Sebastian’s muscles unwound a bit when the elevator reached his floor. He held the door open for Vivian to exit, her leashed demons scampering ahead of her.
Unfortunately they lived on the same floor.
Happily the walls were thick.
Her dogs wiggled with excitement as she fumbled in her purse for her key. They actually looked sort of adorable for once and he couldn’t resist crouching to pet one of the fluffy fur balls.
It turned and snapped at him, almost catching his finger.
Never mind.
Sebastian’s apartment had a neglected air. His former house sitter, Carrie Gray, hadn’t left his employ to marry that long ago, but already stacks of unopened mail tilted precariously on the hall table. He picked an envelope off the top and ripped it open.
“You are cordially invited to celebrate the landmark status of our building.”
He snorted.
Yes, 721 Park Avenue was a beautiful building, but it probably wasn’t much over a hundred years old. Parts of the royal palace in Caspia were rumored to be five thousand years old.
That was a landmark.
He flung the envelope back on the pile and lifted his foot to step over the bag he’d dropped in the foyer the night before. He’d gone straight from the plane to the office to an all-night party and hadn’t had time to unpack. It was inconvenient having no one to do it for him.
But the bag wasn’t there.
Did he hear voices?
He did. Female voices.
Interesting. Especially since he hadn’t brought anyone home last night.
Anticipation pricked through him as he walked down the marble-floored hallway toward the living room.
A familiar mane of blond hair cascaded over the back of an uncomfortable eighteenth-century chair. “Tessa.”
She jumped. “Oh, Your Highness, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Your Highness?” He lifted a brow.
“I’m interviewing candidates for your new house sitter.” She indicated a red-haired girl seated opposite her.
He smiled at them both. He always could count on Tessa to handle everything.
Tessa excused herself for a moment and hurried after Sebastian. “I unpacked your bag. I’m not sure if I did it right. Let me show you where I put things.”
She rambled on, suddenly feeling like an intruder in his private space. His house sitter used to handle the apartment, so she rarely came here. She was embarrassed that she still hadn’t had time to tackle his mail. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I just thought it would be a good idea to interview the house sitters here so they’d have an idea of what the job entails. The antiques and all. You can tell a lot about someone by the way they treat your home.”
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