Free Scenes of Passion by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

much too vague. What exactly did your father mean by ‘improve the business’?”
    â€œMake more money,” Matt said. “That was always the bottom line for him.”
    Maggie frowned. “I’m going to need to look at the company’s yearly financial statement, as well as the last few years’ quarterly reports. As far as we both know, Yankee Potato Chip is thriving despite the recession. I’d bet that gross profits aren’t going to vary from quarter to quarter.”
    And it wouldn’t be easy to improve a healthy business in only three months. Any action made by an increased, aggressive advertising campaign wouldn’t bring about increased sales within three months. Maggie put her chin in her hand and stared into space.
    â€œWhat are you thinking?” Matt asked.
    She looked at him. “I was just wondering what could possibly be in that codicil.”
    â€œWhat’s a codicil?”
    â€œIt’s an addendum to a document. There was a note at the bottom of your father’s will, with your father’s signature, saying that his will has a codicil. It was dated only a few weeks before he died, but it wasn’t included in the other pages you gave me. The court has a copy. We’ll need to see it,” Maggie told him.
    â€œYou think it’s going to be any help?” Matt asked.
    â€œI don’t know. There’s probably a copy of it somewhere in your office. We should go back and start looking for it.” She slid off the stool and nearly landed on the floor.
    â€œI’ll look for it later,” Matt told her as he caught her. “I think you’re ready for a game of pool. You want to break or should I?”

Six
    M aggie unlocked the kitchen door and went into the house without turning on the light. She was feeling wobbly from all that beer she’d had. She normally didn’t have a single beer, let alone four . Or was it five?
    It was after midnight, and her parents had gone to bed. The house was dark, so she locked the door behind her and crept into the living room and…
    And there, on the stairs, in the glow from the streetlight, was Vanessa.
    Kissing Brock.
    She was in her nightgown.
    His jacket was off and his shirt was unbuttoned.
    And it was pretty damn obvious that he’d been with her, up in her bedroom.
    â€œWow,” Maggie said. “ That was fast.”
    Her sister and the man who’d asked her to marry him just a few weeks ago—never mind the fact that she was intending to tell him no tomorrow—leapt apart.
    â€œGod,” Vanessa said. “Maggie, you scared me to death.”
    Maggie turned on the light. Brock, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed.
    Vanessa, from the looks of things, was even more drunk than she was.
    Maggie sat down on the couch. “Your car’s not out front,” she said to Brock.
    â€œI, uh, parked it down the street,” he admitted. “Look, Maggie, I’m sorry—”
    â€œI thought you were Mitch’s friend,” she said.
    â€œI am.”
    â€œSome friend.”
    Vanessa took offense at her tone. “Mitch is a son of a bitch who should rot in hell,” she said, sitting down on the step between the entryway and the living room.
    â€œWho filed for divorce because you were cheating on him ,” Maggie said. She looked at Brock. “Did you know that?”
    â€œBecause he was cheating on me!” Vanessa started to cry. “You’re so self-righteous.”
    â€œHey,” Maggie said. “I think I’m allowed a little self-righteousness when I come home to find out that you slept with my boyfriend.”
    â€œI didn’t think you’d be coming home,” Vanessa countered. “Out with Matthew Stone? No woman in her right mind would make him drive her home. Except you. You’re so perfect, Margaret. So perfect and proper and cold .”
    â€œThis probably isn’t a good time