An Unexpected Christmas Baby. Tara Taylor Quinn

from a friend of hers in the office of the Commissioner of Business Oversight that Collins was planning to leave. That he was filing paperwork to open his own firm. Bill says he heard that Collins was planning to take his book of business with him.”

      She disliked the guy. Thoroughly.

      “He can’t do that, can he? Solicit his clients away from you?”

      “No, but that doesn’t mean he won’t drop a word in an ear here and there.” Howard slowly tapped a finger on the edge of his desk, seeming to concentrate on the movement. “As I said, money is a vulnerable business. His clients trust him. They’ll follow him of their own accord.”

      “So he’s going to be direct competition to the man who took a chance on him?” Hate was such a strong word. She didn’t want it in her vocabulary. Anger, on the other hand...

      “I left another firm to start Owens Investments.” Her father’s words calmed her for the immediate moment. “He was doing what I did. Following in my footsteps, so to speak. I just didn’t see it coming from him. I thought he was happy here.”

      “Unless he’s leaving because he knows someone is on to the fact that money is being misplaced.”

      “That’s occurred to me, too. About a hundred times over the past week. A guy who’s opening his own business doesn’t usually start spending lavishly. And if he was the decent guy I thought he was, he would at least have let me know his plans to leave. Which is what I did when I was branching out.

      “And, like I said, he’s the only one here who’s made any obvious changes in routine or lifestyle over the past year. I did some checking into health-care claims and asked around as much as I could, and no one seems to be going through any medical crisis that would require extra funding. I’m not aware of any rancorous divorces, either.”

      “So... I start now and my first visit is to Mr. Flint Collins.”

      Howard nodded. “We need to get a look at every file he has while everything is still here.”

      Which might take some time. “Do you know how soon he’s planning to leave?”

      “Technically, I don’t actually know that he’s going. Like I said, this is all still rumor. He’s given me no indication or made any official announcement about his plans.”

      “But it could be soon?”

      Howard shrugged. “Could be any day. I just hope to God it’s not. Even if he’s not the one who’s been stealing from me, he’s going to do it indirectly unless I can get to his clients first. I’ve already started reaching out—making sure everyone’s happy, letting them know that if there’s any question or discomfort at all, to contact me. I’ll take on more accounts myself rather than lose them.”

      Even then, her dad would have to be careful. He couldn’t appear to be stabbing a fellow broker in the back just to keep more profits for himself. She did know some things about his business. She also remembered a time when she’d been in high school and another broker had left the firm. Her dad had talked to her mother about a party for the investors who’d be affected, which they’d had and then he’d acted on her advice as to how to deliver his news. She just couldn’t remember what that advice had been. What stuck in her mind was that her father had taken it.

      Which had given a teenage Tamara respect for, and faith in, both of them.

      Standing, she asked her dad for a private space with a locking door that she could use as an office. Told him she’d need passwords and security clearance to access all files. And suggested he send out a memo, or however they normally did such things within the company, to let everyone know, from janitorial on up, that she’d be around and why, giving him wording suggestions. Everything that came with her introductory speech on every new job she took. She had a lot of work to do.

      But first she was going to introduce herself to Flint Collins.

      While her heart hurt for the young man who, from the sound of things, had a much more difficult upbringing than many—certainly far more difficult than she’d had—that didn’t give him the right to screw over her family. Karma didn’t work that way.

       Chapter Three

      Flint took the back way into his office. Leaving the base of the car seat strapped into the back of his SUV, he unlatched the baby carrier, carefully laid a blanket over the top and hightailed it to his private space.

      Lunchtime at Owens Investments meant that almost everyone in Flint’s wing would be out wining and dining clients, or holed up in his or her office getting work done. His door was the second from the end by the private entrance—because he’d requested the space when it became available. He wasn’t big on socializing at work and hadn’t liked being close to the door on the opposite end of the hall, which led to reception.

      He’d never expected to be thankful that he could sneak something inside without being seen. That Monday he was.

      Everyone was going to know. He just needed time to see Bill. His boss, Bill Coniff, was Director of Operations and, he was pretty sure, the person who’d ratted him out before he was ready to go to Howard Owens with his plan to open his own firm. Jane in Accounting had told him about the rumor going around, and said she’d interrupted Bill telling Howard. According to Jane, Bill had twisted the news to make it sound like Flint had been soliciting his current clients to jump ship with him.

      Flint would get out of the business altogether before he’d do that.

      Business was business. Howard had taught him that. Flint was good at what he did and could earn a lot more money over the course of his career by having his own firm. Could make choices he wasn’t currently permitted to make regarding certain investments because Howard wasn’t willing to take the same risks.

      He felt that to live up to his full potential, he had to go, but he’d been planning to do it ethically. With Howard fully involved in the process—once there was a solid process in which to involve him.

      But in less than a week his life had irrevocably changed. Forever. His focus now had to be on making enough money to support a child, not taking risks. To provide a safe, loving home. And to have time to be in that home with the child as much as possible.

      How the hell he was supposed to go about that, he had no real idea. First step had been watching all the videos. Buying out the baby store.

      And the next was to humble himself, visit Bill Coniff and ensure his current job security. To beg if it came to that.

      He spent a few minutes setting up the monitor system he’d purchased for his office, putting the remote receiver in his pocket and taking one last glance at the baby carrier he’d placed on the work table opposite his desk. The floor was too drafty, the couch too narrow. What if she cried and moved her arms and legs a lot and the carrier fell off?

      Ms. Bailey had said that the infant had been fed before she’d brought her to the gravesite. Apparently she ate every two hours and slept most of the rest of the time. By his math, that gave him half an hour to get his situation resolved before she’d need him.

      Testing the monitor by talking into it and making sure he heard his own voice coming out of his pocket, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Should he lock it? Somehow, locking a baby in a place alone seemed dangerous. Neglectful. But he couldn’t leave the door unlocked. Anyone could walk down that hallway and steal her away.

      Was he wrong to vacate the room at all?

      People left babies in nurseries at home and even went downstairs. Bill’s office was two doors away from his. He’d see anyone who walked by. Unless whoever it was came in through the private door. Only employees had access to that hall.

      There were security cameras at either end.

      If there was a fire and he was hurt, a locked door would prevent firefighters from getting