Romancing the Tycoon. Debra Webb

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      Amy marched up the steps and straight to the massive double doors. She pressed the doorbell and waited for a butler to answer. Surely in a house like this, the residents didn’t bother answering the door themselves.

      The door suddenly swung inward and a young woman, maybe about Amy’s age, stared out at her, annoyance written all over her face. “Just a minute,” she barked into the cordless phone she clutched in her right hand. “What do you want?” she demanded of Amy.

      Taken aback but determined to maintain her professionalism, she dredged up a smile. “Good afternoon, I’m Amy Wells from the Colby Agency. I believe Mr. Winterborne is expecting me.”

      The woman looked her up and down disapprovingly. To Amy’s credit, she didn’t squirm. “He’s not here. He had to leave. I’ll tell him you came by.”

      Wait a minute. That wasn’t going to work. Victoria had said that Mr. Winterborne needed this report right away. “Wait!” Amy cried before the door could slam in her face.

      “What?” the woman snapped, obviously in a hurry to get back to whoever was on the other end of the telephone line.

      Amy positioned herself in the doorway to prevent its closing. “I have to give this report to Mr. Winterborne. It’s very important.”

      “Fine,” the woman relented. “Come in and you can call him at the plant.”

      Amy stepped into the marble-floored entry hall and was awestruck all over again by the grandness of the home. The outside was beautiful but the inside was breathtaking.

      The woman moved a few feet away to resume her call. “I can’t believe you’re even calling me like this,” she hissed.

      Amy tried to focus on the details of the amazing entry hall rather than on the hushed words, but the intensity of the phone conversation prodded her natural curiosity.

      “No,” the woman said sharply. “You walked out on me, Kevin. Left me here to deal with my father.”

      Now Amy got the picture. The girl was apparently Mr. Winterborne’s daughter and the caller, or “cal-lee” as the case might be, was obviously her boyfriend…or ex-boyfriend.

      “Vegas? What the hell are you doing in—?”

      Silence echoed for about five seconds.

      “How much?” This time her fury had dissolved into something like awe. The same kind of awe Amy had felt at seeing this place. “You won that much?”

      Okay, Amy reasoned. Her boyfriend was in Vegas and had just won a lot of money and was calling to…make up? Amy grinned. She definitely had this investigating thing down to a science. She just had to find a way to get Victoria’s attention. Simply asking for the position wouldn’t be good enough. Amy wanted to bowl her employer over with some sort of amazing feat. That way she would just have to say yes! No wouldn’t even be a possibility.

      “Don’t say that unless you mean it,” the woman said wistfully.

      Amy’s heart went out to her. Was this guy trying to win her back? Did he deserve a second chance? Her gut instinct was that anytime a person had a chance at true love, he or she had better take it. It sure didn’t come along often.

      “Okay,” the woman said breathlessly. “I’m going to the airport right now. I’ll be on the next flight out there.” She giggled. “Yes. I love you, too.”

      Amy had been right all the way around. The thought pleased her immensely.

      The woman jumped when her gaze collided with Amy’s once more. “Oh. I’d forgotten all about you.”

      Amy kept her smile in place in spite of the indifference radiating from the other woman. “I just need to deliver this report to your father.”

      The woman, who Amy had decided was Miss Winterborne, nodded. “He’s at the Caldwell facility.” She started for the door. “I’ll give you directions or the number. Whichever you want, but I’m in a hurry here.”

      Amy followed, the white envelope clasped in her hand. Victoria’s instructions had been for her to deliver it personally to Mr. Winterborne. Driving to another destination wouldn’t be a problem as long as she accomplished her mission. “Directions will be fine.”

      Miss Winterborne opened the door, but then quickly closed it. She turned back to Amy, her eyes round with something like horror. “They’re here,” she said on a breath that rushed out of her lungs as if she’d seen a ghost.

      Who was here?

      Whoever it was, it was none of Amy’s concern. She had a job to do. Failure wasn’t an option if she wanted to keep Victoria Colby-Camp impressed. “You were going to give me directions to—”

      “Ah…stay right here.” Miss Winterborne rushed to the other end of the long hall and grabbed something. As she hurried back to the door Amy recognized the object as a designer suitcase, the kind that looked like a huge old-fashioned purse and had probably cost more than Amy’s monthly salary. “I’ll be right back,” the woman assured Amy before slipping out the door.

      What was going on here? Amy suddenly remembered the telephone conversation and how Miss Winterborne had promised to get the next flight…

      Surely she wasn’t leaving Amy here to fend for herself. She glanced around the enormous hall. The house seemed empty. How would she find out where Mr. Winterborne was if the daughter disappeared on her?

      She couldn’t.

      And that was unacceptable.

      Amy jerked open the front door and strode out onto the landing that topped the dozen half-moon steps which descended to the U-shaped drive.

      A long black limousine sat at the bottom of the steps. A driver placed the bag Miss Winterborne had exited the house with into the trunk and closed the lid. He smiled at Amy and quickly hurried around to the driver’s door.

      Where was Regina Winterborne?

      Amy looked left then right but saw no sign of her. Her gaze went straight to the tinted windows then. She must already be inside the car. Annoyed, Amy charged down the steps intent on demanding to know where Mr. Winterborne was.

      “Good afternoon, Miss Winterborne,” a male voice said bringing her up short two steps shy of the car. “I’m Mr. Beckman.”

      Amy whipped around expecting to see the woman right behind her somehow, instead the only thing she found was a tall, well-dressed gentleman smiling down at her.

      “Where’s—”

      Before Amy could complete her question, the man gestured to the car’s passenger-side door. “The plane is waiting. Mr. Winterborne already informed us that he would arrive later in the weekend.”

      The plane? What plane?

      Amy shook her head, confusion bearing down on her now. Where was the woman? Regina Winterborne? Amy had to deliver this report. “I’m supposed—”

      “We’re behind schedule as it is,” the man said, СКАЧАТЬ