Beverly Barton: Grace Under Fire

A wide-eyed young woman with a mop of curly carrot-red hair emerged from Grace's private office-Grace's name on the door declared the space as hers.

"Oh, good morning, Ms. Beaumont." The plump redhead left the door wide open, moved aside and stood at attention. "Elsa phoned. She'll be late coming in. A problem with her brother. But she gave me exact instructions. Your mail has been opened and placed on your desk and I just put a mug of cappuccino on the coaster. I used the crystal mug, per Elsa's instructions."

"Thank you, Avery." Grace entered her large, elegant office, then glanced back at the young woman. "Did Elsa say what the problem was with Troy?"

"No, ma'am, she didn't."

"Mmm-hmm. All right, thanks. When Elsa arrives, please tell her I wish to speak to her. And for now, will you inform Mr. Prentice that I'd like for him to come to my office."

"Right away."

Jed wasn't surprised by Grace's air of command. He figured she'd been used to giving orders all her life, so it would have become second nature to her. Call him a male chauvinist, but what amazed him was how someone so young and beautiful could be savvy enough to run a multimillion-dollar media empire. After all, from what he'd read in the Dundee's report on her, she hadn't worked a day in her life until three years ago when she'd stepped in to fill her father's shoes as not only owner of Sheffield Media, Inc., but as the CEO. She'd been born and bred to be a society wife, as her mother and grandmothers before her had been.

"You asked to see me?" A rather ordinary-looking man, of medium height and build, stood in the open doorway.

Jed studied him briefly. The guy was a bit of a dandy with his expensive clothes, Rolex wristwatch and perfectly styled brown hair.

" Hudson, please come in and close the door," Grace said, and her senior vice-president scurried to do her bidding.

Jed wondered if all the men in Grace's life were such willing slaves. Probably. He pegged Grace for the type who, when she snapped her fingers, expected a man to come running.

Hudson Prentice eyed Jed with the kind of speculation he translated as the guy trying to figure out whether Jed was competition. Competition for what? What else-Grace Beaumont's affections.

"Jed Tyree, this is Hudson Prentice."

"Thirty-six, unmarried, lives alone, no pets, no children. Graduated magna cum laude, with an MBA from Tulane. Hired as an assistant by and for Byram Sheffield. A loyal employee for almost fifteen years. Now senior vice-president, good friend and confidante of Grace Beaumont." Jed recited the info, and noted the way Hudson 's brows rose and a tenuous smile hiked the corners of his mouth.

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Tyree." Hudson offered his hand. "You know a great deal about me and I know nothing about you."

"All you need to know is that I'm a Dundee agent hired by Ms. Beaumont to investigate some serious allegations." Jed shook hands with Prentice, whose smile quickly disappeared.

" Hudson, I want you to arrange for an office for Mr. Tyree. Move some people around, if necessary," Grace instructed as she lifted the crystal mug from her desk and sipped the cappuccino. "I want him in this building, fairly close to me."

"Yes, of course. It will take some time to-"

"I want it done this morning."

"Certainly."

Grace eyed Jed over the rim of her mug. "Tell Hudson what you'll need. Computer? Fax? Copier? Extra phone lines? A secretary of your own?"

"Yes to everything except the secretary," Jed replied. " Dundee 's will send someone to act in that capacity, if I find I need it. By not using one of your people, we lessen the chance of more people knowing about your private business."

"Good idea." Grace sat down behind her desk, then glanced at Prentice. "That's all, Hudson. Thank you."

Prentice looked like a kid who'd been told to go to bed without any supper. Staring down at his feet, he cleared his throat, then glared at Grace. "Couldn't Elsa handle all of this? After all, how will it look to the employees to have me at Mr. Tyree's beck and call? I am the senior vice-president."

Grace set her coffee mug on the coaster, placed one hand on the desk and the other on her thigh. "I apologize. I had no idea you'd feel demeaned by helping Mr. Tyree settle in. But Elsa has been delayed this morning by a personal matter, so if you would, I'd appreciate your at least arranging for an office for Mr. Tyree."

"Grace, I-I didn't mean to imply that-"

She held up her hand in a Stop gesture. "No, no. It was my mistake entirely."

With that said, she dismissed Prentice, who gazed at her pathetically and slunk out of the room like a whipped dog.

Jed wondered how a guy who could so easily be cowed by a woman had ever been considered CEO material? Hadn't he read in the file on Grace that Prentice had temporarily replaced Byram Sheffield for ten months after his death? The only explanation that made sense to Jed was that Prentice was in love with Grace, which made him act like a tongue-tied fool only around her. Otherwise, the man was just an idiot. And he didn't think a man with Byram Sheffield's reputation was the type to have suffered fools gladly.

"You should put him out of his misery," Jed said.

Grace's head snapped up; she glared at him. "Pardon?"

"Nothing." Jed shrugged.

"My relationships with my employees are none of your concern."

"Yes, ma'am." Jed clicked his heels and saluted her.

She glowered at him. "Was that supposed to be funny?"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. It's just no one would ever suspect that under that cover-girl beauty beats the heart of a commanding army general."

"Look, it's none of your business-"

"You've already made your point."

" Hudson thinks he's in love with me. I pretend not to know how he feels. But he also resents the fact that I took over for my father when he expected to be named permanent CEO. I want him as a friend. I need him as an executive. So I walk a fine line as far as our working relationship goes."

Jed nodded. "Are you trying to tell me that your Hitler routine was strictly for Prentice's benefit?"

"I'm a woman whose claim to fame prior to my father's death was being a prominent socialite. How do you think my employees would have reacted to me if I hadn't come in here on the first day with a hard-ass, I'm-the-boss-attitude?"

"I see your point."

"What is it with you, Mr. Tyree-do you have a problem with strong, aggressive females? If so, I suggest you get over it for the duration of this assignment, while you're working for me."

"I'll do my job, Ms. Beaumont, but there's one thing you should know-I don't jump through hoops for anybody, so don't expect it." Without giving her a chance for a rebuttal, he nodded toward the outer office. "I need to make some phone calls, get the ball rolling. My boss is supposed to have contacted the local authorities to see about getting me copies of the accident report and the file on the subsequent investigation into the wreck that killed your husband and father. We'll start there, see if there's anything that might indicate the hit-and-run wasn't accidental."

"Use Elsa's desk until Hudson can arrange for you to have your own office."

When Jed walked into the outer office, Grace followed him, then paused at his side when he sat down at the desk.

He glanced up at her. "Yeah?"

"For your information, I do not expect anyone to jump through hoops for me."

"If you say so."

Grace huffed. "Why begin with looking into information about the accident? Why not investigate the allegation that Governor Miller is involved with Booth Fortier?"

Should he be totally honest with her? Jed wondered. Should he tell her that Sawyer, Special Agent Moran and Sam Dundee had all agreed that Jed shouldn't start digging into the governor's supposed involvement with the syndicate until they had several Dundee agents on the job and a couple of Feds in place? Once they started the investigation, it was only a matter of time-hours or days-before both the governor and Fortier would learn about it. And when they discovered who was behind the probe into their affairs, Grace Beaumont's life would be in imminent danger.