Free Alana Candler, Marked for Murder by Joanie Bruce Page B

resolve the day before to be thankful for all things. Looking back over the events of the day, she had to admit there was only one thing she felt like being thankful for this day: Jaydn Holbrook stepped out of his office at the precise moment she finally had a minute to catch her breath and take a one-minute break in the small kitchen. She was too embarrassed to eat one of the pastries in the refrigerator, even though she missed lunch, and her mouth was watering just thinking about the bountiful supply. She closed her eyes trying to ignore her rumbling stomach, when Mr. Holbrook walked into the room.
    Obviously, he was surprised to see her resting , quietly drinking a glass of water instead of furiously working at her desk. He demanded, without using kind words, to be shown the letters she spent all morning typing. When she told him they were already stamped and mailed, the surprised look on his face was quickly replaced with satisfaction, and he nodded his approval.
    Yes! That one positive, emotional response was something to be thankful for on this day.
    She closed her eyes and tried not to think of the one thing she was looking forward to—a hot bath. Her arms ached from spending the whole day at the computer typing, and her head felt like it would burst open any second.
    “Well, Miss Candler. If you think I’m going to pay you for a full day’s work when you’ve spent half of it sitting around taking naps, you’re mistaken.”
    Alana jumped up in her seat and stared at him just as the phone rang.
    Anger flashed in her eyes as she picked up the receiver.
    “Mr. Jaydn Holbrook’s office. May I help you?” she said over-sweetly. She pasted a fake smile on her lips for Mr. Holbrook’s benefit.
    “Alana? Is that you?”
    “Brandy! What in the world are you doing calling me here?” Alana turned so her back was facing the irritated man standing in the doorway.
    “Lisa gave me the phone number where I could reach you. What in the world are you doing working as a secretary? I thought you gave that up years ago.”
    “It’s a long story, Brandy.” She glanced over her shoulder to see if the dark-haired man was still watching her. He was. “Uh, Brandy, did you need something?”
    “Oh, yeah! I have some really bad news. I just went by your apartment to pack you a couple of outfits, and . . . well . . . the place has been totally trashed. Someone really made a mess of everything.”
    “What?” whispered Alana.
    “Books were all over the floor, and the cabinet drawers were dumped everywhere and smashed. Even your bedroom was trashed, at least what I could see from the living room; I didn’t stay to look around. It’s a mess, Alana. I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what to do, but should I have called the police?”
    “Miss Candler. Would you please make personal phone calls on your own time and not on mine?” an annoyed male voice broke into her conversation.
    Alana could bear his insults no longer. The emotional strain of being drowned three days before combined with two nights worth of nightmares and the stressful day she just experienced made her reaction to his words stronger than she ever intended them to be.
    She told Brandy through clenched teeth not to worry—that she’d call the police after she checked out the apartment herself. Then she hung up the phone and stepped angrily toward the arrogant man glaring at her with his arms folded across his chest.
    “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, Mr. Holbrook. I’m going to gather my personal belongings, and I’m going to walk out that door, and I sincerely hope I never have to meet such an arrogant, egotistical, overbearing slave driver like you ever again. You are the most obnoxious man I’ve ever had the misfortune to work with, and I don’t care if you did save my life, I hope I never have to set eyes on you again for the rest of my life!”
    Tears filled her eyes long before she finished the last sentence, and when the final word was spoken, she