The Boss's Daughter. Leigh Michaels

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СКАЧАТЬ I help—” His question broke off abruptly as he got a good look at Amy, and he went on disbelievingly, “Ms. Sherwood?”

      She didn’t blame him for being startled. “In the flesh, Robert.”

      “But your father isn’t—” He sounded a bit apprehensive. “I mean, you do know about…don’t you?”

      “About his heart attack? Relax, I haven’t been that far out of the loop. I just came from seeing him in the hospital. I’m here because…” She paused. Because I’m taking over. She hadn’t even said it out loud to herself, and at the last moment she realized she couldn’t get her tongue around the words to explain it to anyone else just yet. Not till she’d had a little more time to get used to the idea herself. So instead of telling Robert the truth, she said, “Because I need to see Beth Gleason. Has she come in yet?”

      Robert nodded. “Go on up, Ms. Sherwood.” He pushed a button on the desk and the inner door unlocked with a soft buzz.

      Amy was just a little startled that he hadn’t phoned Beth to come down to greet her. No one but the staff was supposed to wander around the building without an escort. In fact, considering the way Amy had departed almost three months ago, she wouldn’t have been too surprised if instead of casually letting her enter, Robert had vaulted the reception desk, seized her by the neck, and thrown her out onto the street. Even if her father had sentimentally left her name on the employee roster, the rest of the staff had to know the truth.

      Amy stepped through the doorway and into the main lobby. While the reception area was elegant in a very understated way, the two-story-high lobby on the other side of the locked door—where no client or bidder or visitor ever went without an escort—had been deliberately designed to overwhelm. Though it contained nothing but a branching staircase with a cloakroom tucked underneath and a matched pair of elevators, the room often drew gasps from the first-time visitor. Quite an understandable reaction, Amy had always thought, since the staircase had been salvaged from a centuries-old manor house, the linen-fold paneling which covered the elevator doors from a minor palace, and the arched ceiling from a small cathedral. None of them were the sort of thing often seen in Kansas City.

      Perception is everything in this business, Gavin had said, and he was right. It had cost him a fortune to create the image of a solid, wealthy, timeless business, but the investment had more than paid for itself. When clients who had been doubtful about what to do with their treasures saw this lobby, they abruptly relaxed, certain that they and their possessions were in good hands. Amy had seen it happen a hundred times.

      She could have taken the elevator from the lower lobby all the way to the top of the building where the executive offices were located, but she much preferred to climb the stairs as far as she could. She liked to let her hand trail along the satin-smooth railing as she climbed, liked to see the view from the top step as a second and even larger lobby opened out in front of her. To one side, across what seemed an acre of carpet, was a pillared archway leading into the auction room where the rare and unusual items that were Sherwood Auctions’ specialty were put under the hammer. On the other side of the lobby, smaller doors led into a series of museum-like showrooms where prospective buyers could inspect the merchandise days or even weeks before the actual auction.

      This morning the auction room was empty and the showrooms quiet. Amy paused just long enough to glance into the showrooms before she went on upstairs. The next scheduled auction, she concluded, must be furniture, for a classic highboy occupied the place of honor just inside the main showroom.

      Upstairs, where the clients seldom came, the image of ancient success abruptly gave way to practicality. The fourth floor was a warren of offices, storage closets, and workrooms; she walked down two long corridors before stopping to tap at the door of a cramped office. A young woman wearing a lab coat and white cotton gloves looked up from a china figurine standing on her desk, her mouth dropping open as she saw Amy.

      “Sevres?” Amy asked, pointing at the figurine.

      Beth Gleason stripped off her gloves. “No. Unfortunately, it’s just a darn good imitation.”

      “And now you have to break the news to the owner, who expected to make a small fortune on it?”

      “My favorite part of the job,” Beth said dryly. “What are you doing here? You told me you’d only come back over your father’s…” Her voice trailed off. “Sorry. That’s not very funny just now.”

      “Well, he’s not dying. In fact, for a guy who had a heart attack just a few days ago, he’s looking incredibly good.” Amy brushed packing fibers off a chair and sat down. “He wants me back on the payroll, only this time I’m supposed to run the whole show.”

      “Take Gavin’s place? For how long?”

      “Until he’s able to work again. A few weeks, he said.”

      Beth picked up a box and nestled the pseudo-Sevres figurine into it. “It makes a lot of sense,” she said slowly.

      Amy’s jaw dropped. “From whose point of view? I’ve spent more than two months cultivating new job possibilities, but now that I’m finally getting nibbles you think I should be pleased about turning them all down so I can fill in for my father?”

      “If the people who have offered you jobs really want you, surely they’ll wait. A few weeks, you said? They’d have to wait that long if they hired someone who had to give notice before leaving a job.”

      “The museum would wait,” Amy mused. “And probably the college, too. But the magazine…I don’t think the editor of Connoisseur’s Choice will have much patience, and I can’t blame him. He needs a replacement for his roving expert before long.”

      Beth shot her a shrewd look. “So you have made up your mind which job you want.”

      Amy frowned. “I guess I have,” she said slowly. “I didn’t even know that I was leaning in that direction, until it was snatched away from me.”

      “So you’re going to come back?”

      “Do I have a choice? He’s still my father.” There was no need to go into the rest of it, she thought. The Sherwoods’ divorce settlement was not the world’s business.

      “Talk to the people at the magazine. You might be surprised.” Beth sealed the box with tape and set it aside. “Or maybe there’s another way. Something you haven’t thought of yet.”

      “Like turning myself into twins?” Amy said.

      She went on up to the sixth floor, to the corner occupied by the executive offices. The lights were on, but the rooms seemed to be empty. Her father’s personal assistant was nowhere to be seen. Amy hesitated outside the half-open door of Gavin Sherwood’s corner office, remembering what had happened the last time she had come into this room. Her father, with Honey…The scene had scorched itself into her mind, and it still had the power to make her face burn with anger and embarrassment.

      Don’t dwell on it, she told herself. It’ll only make the job harder. She gave the door a push and went inside. Two feet into the room, she stopped dead.

      Behind her father’s enormous desk sat a man, dark head bent over an open drawer. Even half-hidden as he was by the desk, there was no mistaking the power and fitness of that lean frame. He looked up almost casually as she came in, but as his gaze fell on Amy, she thought she saw his body tighten, as if every muscle was coiling, ready for action.

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