Project: Runaway Heiress. Heidi Betts

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      Then, at dinner itself, she’d been nearly the perfect companion. Quiet and unassuming, yet brilliant at making small talk and knowing when to speak and when to remain silent. Definitely an excellent performance from his personal assistant.

      Not for the first time, though, he wondered what she might be like over a dinner that had nothing to do with business.

      His mind shouldn’t be wandering in that direction, he knew, but once the thought filled his head, he couldn’t seem to be rid of it. It would have been nice to focus his full attention on her throughout the meal, and to feel the same from her. To talk about something other than Ashdown Abbey and potential new designs or designers, and to chat about the personal instead of business.

      How long had it been since he’d taken a woman to dinner or out on the town?

      Not since Caroline, for certain.

      And a beautiful woman who had nothing to do with his family’s company…?

      Well, Caroline definitely didn’t qualify there. She hadn’t been involved with Ashdown Abbey when they’d first met, but she had been an American model eager to sleep her way to the lead in their runway shows and ad campaigns—preferably in the U.K. so that she could go “international.”

      And the random models he was often seen with at fashion-industry functions simply didn’t count.

      But then, neither did tonight. Not really. Though a part of him wished it could.

      They made their way down the narrow hall of her building, coming to a stop in front of the door to her flat. She fit her key into the lock and turned it, but didn’t open the door. Instead, she turned back round to face him, the knob still in her hand, one arm twisted behind her.

      “Thank you,” she said softly. “I had a very nice time tonight.”

      “Even though I forced you to come along as part of your role as my assistant?” he couldn’t help but inquire.

      She smiled gently at him. “Even though. I appreciated the chance to sit in on one of your meetings. I know how important something like that is. And I appreciate that you let me voice my opinion on Harrison Klein’s work. You certainly didn’t have to ask when I’ve only been working for you a single day.”

      “That’s why I asked,” he told her. “I wanted to know what you were made of, and that seemed a fast way to find out.”

      “So I passed your little test?” she asked, tipping her head slightly to one side.

      “With flying colors,” he said without hesitation.

      “I guess that means I still have a job and should go ahead and show up in the morning.”

      “Most definitely. Keep up the good work, and I may just promote you to VP of the company.”

      “I’m sure the current vice president would be delighted to hear that.”

      Nigel shrugged. “Eh. It’s my uncle. But he’s a grumpy old sod and should probably be retiring soon, anyway.”

      Lillian laughed, the sound light with only a hint of nerves.

      Were they the nerves of an executive secretary having a frank discussion with her new boss? Or of a woman standing much too close to a man in an empty hallway?

      Knowing he was skating dangerously near the line that separated personal from professional, Nigel straightened and cleared his throat.

      “Well,” he murmured. “I should let you go inside and get to bed, since I know you have to be at work early tomorrow. Thank you again for your company this evening.”

      “Thank you for a delicious meal. It was a treat to be able to sit at Trattoria and order more than tap water with a slice of lemon.”

      He chuckled at that. It hadn’t occurred to him that his restaurant of choice might be that far out of the realm of normalcy for Lillian. But now that he thought about it, Trattoria was almost certainly too pricey for an assistant’s salary. Even an executive assistant’s.

      “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Good night, then.”

      Placing his hands on her upper arms, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Quick and entirely innocent…but one he found himself wishing could be longer and much less innocent.

      Juliet Zaccaro paced the length of the living room in the loft apartment she shared with her two sisters.

      “I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” her youngest sister, Zoe, said from where she sat in the corner of the sofa.

      She was curled up, nonchalant and bored. More concerned with her latest manicure than their middle sister’s well-being.

      “How can you say that?” Juliet all but snapped. “Lily has been missing for a week.”

      “She left a note,” Zoe returned. “She told us not to worry about her, and not to look for her. Obviously, she knows what she’s doing and needs some time away.”

      Zoe might have been speaking the truth, but that didn’t mean Juliet had to like it. Or agree.

      “I don’t care,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and pausing in her pacing to tap her foot angrily. “This isn’t like her. What if something is wrong?”

      “If something was wrong, Lily would tell us,” was Zoe’s bored and yet utterly confident reply. “She’s never exactly been shy about asking for help before.”

      Juliet’s brows pulled together in a frown. She really hated it when Zoe—the youngest, flightiest, most self-absorbed of the Zaccaro sisters—was also the sensible one.

      “Well, it can’t hurt to look for her. Ask her face-to-face if everything is okay.”

      Absently, she twisted the gold-and-diamond engagement ring on her left ring finger around and around. Where in heaven’s name could Lily have gone? Why would she run off like this? It wasn’t in her sister’s nature at all to disappear without a word…or to disappear after leaving only a brief, cryptic note.

      Juliet might have been the oldest of the Zaccaro girls and stereotypically the responsible one, taking her role as big sister seriously, but Lily was no empty-headed blonde slacker. She’d started her own fashion line that had evolved into her own company. She’d been successful enough and dogged enough to bring Juliet and Zoe in as partners to help her run the company with her.

      These were not the actions of someone who would wake up one morning and decide she wanted to be a beachcomber instead. Not when there was so much going on at Zaccaro Fashions right now, so many balls in the air that Lily was juggling almost single-handedly.

      Juliet and Zoe helped where they could, but…well, Zoe tended to be easily distracted, and they never knew if she would show up clearheaded and raring to go or call from Las Vegas to say she’d met a guy and would be back in a couple of weeks.

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