CardsNeverLie Read Free Page A

charts. “Nah, they own the Midwest
market. And it’s a big market.”
    After shoving the easel into place behind Al’s desk with a
scraping noise that made Melanie wince, he left the office as silently as he
had come in. It had to be something about the shoes. Ninja shoes.
    Melanie watched as he disappeared behind the ficus tree.
Ninjas were warriors. Were they into black magic and other naughty games as
well?

Chapter Two
     
    “Jack,” Rob said into the headset of his cell phone as he
opened the door of his hotel suite. “How did your conversation with
Professional Massage go?”
    “Great,” his executive VP said. “We’re good to go. But they
want to meet with you before they start talking final numbers.”
    Rob kicked away the newspaper lurking on the floor then
rustled around inside the mini-bar until he found a dark imported brew. He did
his best to ignore the hotel’s idea of medieval décor, tacky imperial purple
draperies and ornate, pointy furniture. “I’m not going to help Grandfather sell
the company.” Rob bent the cap of his bottle off with the bottle opener and
took a swig.
    “Aw, c’mon, Rob,” Jack wheedled. “Don’t be bitter. Everyone
wants to meet the famous Whipmaster.”
    Rob tossed back half the bottle. As his oldest friend, Jack
O’Brien should know better than to torment him with that. “The Whipmaster is
Grandfather, not me. I never posed for one of those god-awful magazine ads.”
    “You’d never know it. You look just like the old man in his
prime.” Jack chuckled. “Seriously, Rob, you’re going to have to meet them.
You’re the CEO now.”
    “Maybe if I hold them off long enough, I can talk
Grandfather out of selling. Why don’t you come down to Vegas so I can get back
to Seattle and talk to him again?” Rob sat on his purple couch.
    “Sorry. Bombshell quit today and the shit has hit the fan.”
    “She quits about once a month. She’ll be back tomorrow.” Rob
felt something poke him in the leg. He stuck his hand into his pocket. Shari’s
massage oil. He dropped the amber bottle into his open briefcase, which lay on
the coffee table. There’s nothing like an attractive nurse to send a man’s mind
toward fantasy. Rob didn’t need to ask why his grandfather had forced
Bombshell, the LeatherWorks nurse, to wear the old-fashioned nurse’s white
dress when most corporate nurses wore slacks and a sweater.
    Rob had asked her out a couple of times since she seemed
like a sweetheart as well as being gorgeous, but she had turned him down with a
smile, saying she didn’t date anyone she worked with. He recalled more than one
midnight fantasy in which it turned out she had a sister who would date him,
but no such luck.
    “Not this time, Rob. She left screaming, and I do mean
screaming, ‘sexual harassment’.”
    Rob scoffed. “And who was doing the harassing?”
    “Your grandfather.”
    Rob laughed aloud. “Thanks, Jack. I needed the laugh. He’s
eighty-two, for Christ’s sake.”
    Rob could hear Jack’s sigh through the telephone wire. “The
judge would probably say the fact he’s wheelchair-bound just gives him a better
shot at pinching her ass.”
    “Grandfather wouldn’t do that. It’s just the way he talks.
He’s stuck in the past and to today’s woman his language is often offensive.”
He smiled. “Sounds like I’d better get back.”
    “No dice. I’ll think of something. You concentrate on coming
up with a way to talk your grandfather out of selling.”
    “You mean you don’t want him to?” Rob’s grandfather had once
given Jack a second chance, but when John Black was gone, Jack could move on to
a better job at a larger company. He had the skills. Rob had never understood
where his insecurity came from.
    “Of course not. Executives will be the first to go under new
management.”
    “They won’t be that dumb. Your job is safe. Give Bombshell a
raise and get her back to work. Grandfather needs a nurse and those temp
services cost a