Ms. Taken. Jo Leigh

of deals, of business lunches, of NASDAQ ups and downs. The company had grown, and the shareholders were going to see some healthy dividends. It was all as it was supposed to be. Only—

      He shook himself out of his reverie and pressed the button for Ms. Ayres. He had to cancel his afternoon. All because of one little slip of a girl. He never should have hired her. Those curls of hers were a dead giveaway. She was trouble. Big trouble.

      “I THINK WE SHOULD CALL the police.”

      David shook his head. “It’s only four-thirty. Let’s give it till five.”

      “By five, she could have wiped out Saks.”

      “Charles, let me ask you something.” David leaned forward and pushed aside his beer so he could rest his hands on the dining room table. “Have you ever spoken to Jane?”

      “Of course. She works for me.”

      “I mean, have you spoken to her in a nonbusiness context?”

      “No. Why would I?”

      “Because you see her five days a week.”

      “David, I don’t go in for that touchy-feely crap, and you know it.”

      “I’m not asking if you’ve hugged her lately, just if you’ve talked. If you know anything about her.”

      Charles massaged his temples, wondering what would happen if he took three more aspirin. Or maybe he should just have a drink. “I only know that up until today, she’d done an adequate job.”

      “Have you ever heard of Pru Dobson?”

      “The violinist?”

      David nodded. “That’s Jane’s eldest sister.”

      “Didn’t we see her play?”

      “We did.”

      “Hmm.”

      “And have you heard of Felicity Dobson?”

      “The name rings a bell, but—”

      “The novelist.”

      “Right.”

      “Also Jane’s sister.”

      “Really.”

      “And maybe you’ve heard of Darra Dobson?”

      He shook his head.

      “Turn around.”

      “What?”

      “Just turn around.”

      Charles obeyed, swiveling to face the window of his tenth-floor penthouse.

      “See the billboard next to the Chivas Regal whiskey sign?”

      He nodded. It was huge, hardly something he could miss, even if he wanted to. A seminaked woman stared hungrily at a seminaked man. She wore his underwear. He didn’t appear to be wearing anything except a smile.

      “That’s Darra Dobson. Jane’s other sister.”

      “No kidding?”

      “No kidding.”

      Charles turned back. “Remarkable.”

      “Yes. Four girls. Three of them international celebrities.”

      “And then Jane.”

      David nodded.

      “That’s very touching, but what does it have to do with me?”

      “I’m not sure yet. But I think your Ms. Dobson is in trouble.”

      “So what am I supposed to do about it?”

      “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

      “I think this is a matter for the authorities, David.”

      “Not yet. Not until I speak with her.”

      “She’s probably on a plane to Monte Carlo.”

      He shook his head, propped his fingers in a steeple and peered over the top. “No. I don’t think so. I think she’ll be back.”

      “David, I know what your grade point average was, so knock it off.”

      “Knock what off?”

      “Your Freud imitation.”

      “I’m not the one who called looking for help, buddy boy.”

      Charles sighed. “I know. I just—”

      The sound of a key opening the dead bolt made both men jump. Charles looked at David. David looked at the door.

      David stood. Charles didn’t.

      Jane Dobson waltzed in and dropped several beige bags as she kicked the door shut behind her. The bandage was gone, revealing a considerable goose egg. She’d changed into decent, expensive looking clothes, and she had two shoes.

      “Hello, Charley,” she said. “Hi, David.”

      David nodded. “Hi.”

      “What? No kiss?”

      David shot Charles a quick glance, then smiled at Jane. He took her outstretched hands, then kissed her on the cheek. “You look wonderful.”

      “Thanks. So do you. Did he tell you?”

      “What?”

      “That we’re getting married.”

      “He mentioned it, yes.”

      “Thrilling, isn’t it?”

      “I’ll say.”

      She let go of David’s hands and headed toward Charles. She was going to kiss him again, he just knew it. But this time, she’d get no reaction from him. None at all. The girl needed help. She was ill. Or psychotic.

      She bent over him.

      She smelled like roses.

      4

      IT WASN’T AS IF SHE HAD a choice. He was so delicious, and she’d loved him for so long. Adorable, stuffy Charley. Sweet, tender Charley. Holly leaned that last inch, her eyes fluttered closed and her lips touched his.

      The same jolt of awareness, the same surge of emotion washed through her, scary and oh, so wonderful. She wished she wasn’t in such an awkward position. What she wanted was to be in his arms, in his bed. She couldn’t wait for the wedding. But maybe she didn’t have to.

      She stood up, leaving Charley agape, his startled expression cute as a button. “I have some things being delivered,” she said, “but they won’t be here for a little while. In the meantime, I thought we might talk about the wedding. I’ve found the perfect place, if they have a room.” She shook her head. “You didn’t give me much notice, Charley.”

      “Didn’t what?”

      David coughed. “He meant for the date to be a surprise. So how did you figure it out, you clever girl? Were you doing a little snooping?”

      She shook her head. She hadn’t. At least, she didn’t think she had. So how did she know? Love, that was it. She loved him, and that gave her special insight. “I know everything about Charley. I know he likes to come into the office early, so that he can get a jump on his day. He clears his throat whenever he needs to regroup, or find just the right word.”

      She turned to Charles and looked into his beautiful face. “Sometimes, when he thinks no one’s looking, he takes his shoes off behind his desk. And sometimes, when he’s alone, he talks to his father.”

      Charley’s eyes widened until she thought he might hurt himself. And his color was none too good, either.

      “Now, why are you so surprised,