Mistletoe, Baby. Donna Hill

moment she wasn’t sure if she was seriously impressed or annoyed. The fact that she’d been able to work with the board and the department chairs to restructure without losing students or teachers was not common knowledge beyond the boardroom of Atlanta College. “How did you know all of that?”

      “I make it my business to know everything there is to know about the people that get hired at your level. I also want to make certain that there is real substance behind the fancy words on a résumé and cover letter.”

      “I see.” She now knew she was annoyed. What else did he know about her that wasn’t on her résumé and didn’t come out in the phone interview? Clearly it didn’t matter if he was around to ask direct questions or not. He still got answers.

      And then as if reading her mind he asked, “How did Ian take your leaving?”

      Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Ian...Matthews. Isn’t it?”

      Her heart began to race. “Yes.” Her response was as much a question as an answer.

      “He was one of your references,” he said as if in answer to the question that hovered on the tip of her tongue. “He had wonderful things to say about you and gave the impression that...you would be missed.”

      Her cheeks were on fire. A tight line formed between her brows. “I don’t recall giving Ian Matthews as a reference.”

      “You didn’t. Whenever I’m interested in a potential candidate for the organization at the management level, I look into their surrounding circle of colleagues.”

      “So basically, screw what’s on the reference letters.”

      The corner of his mouth lifted into a slight grin. “Well, let’s be honest, what person who really wants a job would get reference letters or use references from someone who wouldn’t say that they were wonderful?”

      Her right brow arched. She almost laughed but didn’t. He was actually right, but she’d never tell him that. “So who made these calls? You?”

      “Yes. I generally do, but I felt it was even more important since I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you in person during your visit. You’ll come to see in the days and months and hopefully years ahead that I’m a very hands-on person.”

      Her gaze dropped to his hands that rested casually on his thighs. She swallowed and nearly choked over the dry knot in her throat. She coughed and took a sip of water.

      Graham moved forward, halfway reaching for her. “Are you all right?”

      She nodded her head. “Yes,” she managed. “Throat got really dry.” She took another sip of water. She made herself look at him and forced a confident smile. “Fine. Really.”

      He leaned back in his seat, eyed her for a moment and then took out a pair of glasses from the inside breast pocket of his jacket, slipped them on and picked up a folder that was next to him on the seat. He flipped it open and began to read.

      Glasses. Nice touch, she thought absently. He had that whole GQ look down to an art form. He scanned through the papers in the folder and then handed them across to her, taking her a bit by surprise.

      “Some easy weekend reading so that you won’t come in cold on Monday.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the folder. “Those are the plans for the upcoming projects. Some of the details were hammered out while I was in London. No one has seen them as yet. I’d like to get your take on it.”

      Alexis cleared her throat. “I’ll let you know.”

      He gave a short nod just as the Lincoln cruised to a halt. “We’re here.”

      Michael rounded the car and opened the door. He extended a hand to help her to her feet. Alexis stepped out onto Sutton Place. She glanced upward at the four- and five-story town houses that ran between Fifty-Seventh and Fifty-Eighth Streets, oozed style and sophistication and paid homage to the bygone era of the roaring ’20s. The building boasted a long list of who’s who from the financial world like the Vanderbilts and the Morgans of J. P. Morgan fame, and celebrities such as Marilyn Monroe, actress Sigourney Weaver, designer Kenneth Cole and architect I. M. Pei.

      “I know originally that we were to set you up in Midtown,” Graham was saying as he stepped out of the car to stand beside her. “A good friend of mine owns one of the apartments at 10 Sutton and he’s never here. R.E.A.L. leased it from him. I hope you’ll like it.”

      Okay, now she was speechless. She’d heard about Sutton Place, read about it and saw pictures of the stately homes and co-ops. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine living there. She wanted to do the happy dance but was sure it would be inappropriate.

      “Very nice. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said, with a slight wave of her hand as if she lived in million-dollar homes on a regular basis.

      Michael retrieved her bags from the car and was met at the curb by the red-vested doorman complete with a luggage cart.

      “Welcome back, Mr. Stone. How was your trip?”

      “Very productive, Glen. Thanks. How’ve you been? Did your wife have the baby yet?”

      “Any minute now,” the young man said with a beaming smile. “And I really want to thank you for writing the scholarship letter for my niece.”

      Graham clapped Glen on the shoulder. “Not a problem. You just tell Misty to make us all proud.”

      “Oh, she will. I know she will.”

      Alexis took this all in as Michael and Glen loaded the suitcases onto the cart. Graham Stone lived here or did he just know the doorman? She could hear her voice rising in her head. Michael took Graham’s bags and added them with the others, answering her unspoken question.

      “I want you to look out for Ms. Montgomery. She’ll be taking over Vernon’s apartment on three. Alexis Montgomery, Glen Johnson.”

      “Nice to meet you.” Alexis shook his hand.

      “Ms. Montgomery.” He gave her a short nod and a smile. “Well, that explains the cleaning company and all the moving. I thought Mr. Vernon was finally coming back,” Glen said as he began pushing the cart to the entrance.

      “Hopefully they did a good job,” Graham said as he strode forward. He stopped at the front desk and shook hands with the man behind the counter, took a set of keys and waved Alexis over.

      “Alexis Montgomery, this is Milton, the building’s concierge. Whatever you need, he’ll help you.” He placed the keys in Alexis’s hand.

      “Welcome to 10, Ms. Montgomery.” He produced a brochure from beneath the desk and handed it to her. “It contains a list of amenities as well as information on local services.”

      “Thank you.”

      Graham had walked off and was in conversation with a woman who’d just gotten off the elevator. He kissed her cheek and held the elevator door for Michael and Glen who stepped aside to let Alexis board.

      The door swooshed closed behind them. Alexis was working hard at being cool but it was becoming more difficult by the minute.

      Michael pressed the button. Within moments the doors opened onto her floor. The corridor was as exquisite and lush as a staged photograph. The cool spearmint-colored carpet made the hallway virtually soundproof and exuded a sensation of tranquillity. Michael and Glen led the way toward the front door. Alexis’s heartbeat escalated with each step. Graham lingered a few steps behind. He was busy texting on his phone.

      Alexis stood in front of apartment 3. She fiddled with the keys until she located the correct one and then inserted it into the lock and turned.

      The front door opened onto a spacious living space flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows that rose to meet cathedral ceilings. She slowly walked in, feeling as if she were entering someone else’s life. It was ultramodern with splashes of noir chic. The