Roarke's Kingdom

Jennifer swallowed. “Sí. Yes. I remember.”

She hit the button, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. The doors slid shut, and the elevator began to rise.

She knew instinctively that L.R. Campbell’s office would not be on the same floor as the personnel office, but she got out at the fourth floor anyway, just in case the guard was watching the lighted elevator panel. There was a desk ahead of her, but the woman seated at it was engrossed in the letter she was typing. Jennifer took a deep breath and began striding purposefully down the corridor toward the fire stairs. She was almost there when a voice called after her.

“Señorita. Señorita? A dónde vás?”

She turned slowly. The woman at the reception desk had risen; she was staring at her.

“I—” Jennifer hesitated, then held out the employment application. “I was looking for Personnel. The guard said…”

The woman motioned impatiently. “Have you filled everything in? Give it here, then.”

There was no choice but to do as she’d been told. Jennifer retraced her steps slowly and handed the form to the w

oman.

“What kind of job were you looking for? Not that it matters—Jose should have told you, we’re not hiring.” The woman frowned as she glanced at the application. “You haven’t answered most of the questions, señorita. She looked up, her eyes dark with suspicion. “Not even here, where it asks for your name.”

Jennifer smiled nervously as she backed toward the elevator. “Haven’t I? Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? I mean, if there aren’t any openings—”

“Just one moment, señorita. I think I would like to ask you some questions.”

Jennifer’s shoulder blades hit the wall. She turned quickly, stepped into the elevator, and pressed the lobby button.

“Señorita, wait—”

The doors slid closed. Jennifer sagged back against the wall. What a masterful performance that had been! Another moment, and who knew what would have happened? The woman might have called the guard, or even the police. For all she knew, the woman had done just that; they might be waiting for her even now, as the doors hissed open.

“What the hell’s going on?”

The man filled the open elevator doorway. That was her first impression; that, and the fact that he was glaring at her as if she had just committed a crime. His voice was cold and harsh, but not as harsh as the taut, angled lines of his face.

“Well? I’m waiting. What kind of game are you trying to pull?”

Jennifer drew a breath. “Would you please step aside?”

The bluff didn’t work. He put his hands on his hips and glowered at her.

“I asked you a question, lady. And I still haven’t got an answer.”

He wasn’t a policeman, she thought frantically—not unless the police here dropped out of nowhere, not unless they wore suits of dark silk that had been tailored to fit such wide shoulders, or such a lean, powerful body. Security, then. That was his job, corporate security. L.R. Campbell, with his penchant for privacy, would have someone like this at his beck and call.

She lifted her head until her eyes were locked with his. “Is this the way all visitors are treated at Campbell’s?”

His eyes narrowed. “You have one minute to come up with an answer,” he said softly.

Jennifer’s throat constricted. He was trying to intimidate her, and he was succeeding. But she couldn’t let him know that—not if she were to get out of here without giving herself away.

“And you,” she said, “have one minute to step aside and let me pass.”

Something glimmered in the black depths of his eyes. “Jose?” he said, his eyes locked on hers.

Behind him, the guard snapped to attention. “Si, señor.”

“What kind of job did the lady ask for?”

“She did not say, señor.”