Chapter One

 

Her blonde hair blew on the breeze like a flag unfurled, while her arms were cluttered with files obviously thrown together on the fly. She was rushed, distracted and probably late for an appointment, while taking the time to smile at a cute guy who helped her on the elevator. She stopped to take a long deep breath and look more collected for the handsome stranger, then dashed for her office. She was dressed smartly for work, but always to be noticed, today in a purple suit and a sheer white blouse-a bit risky as transparent as it was, but she had the option of just how much anyone would see of her shapely form depending on how many buttons of the suit jacket she left undone. She was pretty when she smiled-when she smiled. Then her blue eyes danced. Her cheeks were rosy, her mouth pouty, her lips full. Her eyes were framed by well-arched brows, lightly dusted with the naturally light color; she was a natural blonde.

"Miss Brinkman," she was immediately interrupted by Ms. LaPine, a humorless matron twice her age with black glasses and a wardrobe of shapeless floral prints, a hideous pink and blue today. Samantha couldn't remember why she'd hired the women, other than the fact that she typed 100 words a minute, was a self-proclaimed genius in organization and would certainly do the job far better than the dim-witted, lazy twenty year old she replaced. "You have three messages from the board and one from Shuman in the trust department. And weren't you going to meet John Studebaker at nine?" The officious secretary stared at the clock for them, noting the time, 9:45, then she stared Samantha down with a parental glower.

"Yes, yes, yes, Barbara, I took care of the trust department on my cell phone in the taxi, the board will just have to wait and John Studebaker..." she stopped, thought a minute, "Call him, tell him I'm sorry. We'll have coffee tomorrow, and that is a promise."

Ms. LaPine glowered some more; she didn't like arranging personal business, but she would do the task as dutifully as any other.

"I believe there's someone waiting in your office?" she finally said, having gazed beyond Samantha to the open door.

Samantha turned, saw the back side of her unannounced visitor-she really hated people dropping by her office unannounced-and sighed wearily. "Who's that?" she asked.

"I haven't a clue, Miss Brinkman, he slipped by us both."

"Well..." she wanted to reprimand the woman, but had no stomach for Mrs. LaPine's self-righteous rebuttals now. Instead, she marched into her office and dropped the weighty contents of her arms on the desk.

"So, who are you?" she said. Samantha might be pretty, but she was not particularly tactful when stressed.

"I'm Joel Cameron, your new assistant."

"Pardon me?" She looked up at him for the first time, surprised to see the handsome, helpful fellow from the elevator.

"Your new assistant," he smiled broadly, but with a strange expression-as if he knew something that she didn't. He reached out to shake her hand but withdrew it just as quickly when she did not respond in turn.

"Assistant? I have Barbara. I don't need an assistant," she answered, irritated.

"You father thinks you do, so I've been hired."

"Well, I'll have him un-hire you," she reached for the phone.

"I don't think you want to do that," Joel Cameron quickly interrupted her.

"And why is that?"

"Hummm," he pursed his lips. "To put it delicately, Miss Brinkman... Samantha, I'm supposed to keep an eye on you. Help calm you down. I understand you're a terrific sales executive, a whiz with figures and very creative, but there are," he himmed and hawed, "a few problems that your father is concerned about."

"Oh? And what would those problems be?"

"Probably of most concern is your temper."

"My temper?" She could already feel her blood start to boil and her face burn with embarrassment, hearing this from a total stranger.

She faced a most peculiar man, handsome to a fault, but unlike the men she was normally attracted to. Muscled, yes, but stocky. Dark wavy hair, dark complexion, nice smile, good teeth, but tricky eyes. Ones easy to deceive. She didn't like him-especially since her father had a hand in him being there.

"There was a situation ten days ago..." he started, though he paused, deliberately letting her stew with that thought, being gentle as a lamb, quite easy going, and definitely not rattled by the fractious Samantha Brinkman.

"Yes, well that is over. It was unfortunate. I made my apologies and have spent a good deal of the last ten days eating crow and taking care of the matter. I don't know what an assistant now could possibly do to help."

"I'm sure you've handled the situation like the professional you are. But I think this arrangement was intended as a permanent position to avert any further incidents."

"Well, excuse me, I don't need an assistant," she repeated firmly.

"Apparently, your father doesn't agree."

"My father is over reacting, Mr..." she'd forgotten his name.

"Call me Joel."

"Yes, Joel, my father doesn't always understand the stresses of the work I do."

"But he does understand good behavior," Joel Cameron was perfectly civil delivering his message, though it was pointed, and his dark eyes narrowed for emphasis.

The look made her quake. "What exactly is it that you're to assist me with?" she asked.

"Whatever work load has you so frazzled."

"I'm not frazzled!" she raised her voice.

"Then I'll hang around until you are." She wanted to slap his face. "Maybe take a look at the Dumphy account. That was the one mentioned to me specifically."

"Yes, well you just do that. Ms. LaPine will be happy to find it for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

Joel nodded. "We'll discuss your plans for Murphy & Taylor and TJ Youngs prospectus this afternoon," he said. She was about to protest, but found him out the door before she could speak. As if she didn't have enough to do, now she had a babysitter getting in the way. This would not work!
The last thing in the world Samantha Brinkman needed was another war with her own temper, but this one was building fast. How could he! Her father just couldn't stay out of her business life. He expected perfection, loomed over her like a hungry vulture and seemed satisfied when she failed him. An assistant! Damn him!

The afternoon meeting with Joel regarding Murphy & Taylor and TJ Youngs did not go well. His suggestions were unwelcome and his attitude was too pleasant, and much too condescending.

"You know I really don't want your input, Joel. I appreciate the thought, I appreciate what my father may be trying to do, but these are clients I have dealt with for years, I don't need to be schooled in how to handle them." She was trying to be kind, though she was fast moving from slow simmer to boil.

"I think you'd better take a good look at what I suggest," he said quite seriously. "You're father is paying good money to have me consult with you."

"But I don't want any help. It stifles me. If he's trying to quell my temper, he's doing a poor job at that, and as far as I'm concerned you can tell him so."

"Maybe your current state of mind is just what your father was talking about when he hired me."

"What do you mean?"

"You're flying off the handle over nothing."

"Nothing!"

"Nothing. He thinks you're overworked, which you may well be, considering the mess you have here," he stared at her paper-strewn desk as evidence.

She took a deep breath, collecting all her hotshot comments into one place and stuffing them in the 'don't you dare say it file'.

"Please leave," she told him evenly.

Joel smirked. "I was told you'd react like this. You know, you're an open book, Miss Samantha Brinkman. You can't help yourself."

"Leave," she raised her voice, about to explode.

Joel turned to his side, reached inside his briefcase and pulled out a wooden object that it took some time for Samantha to recognize. He slammed it on the front of her desk.

"I'll leave now, Samantha, because our meeting is over. But I'm sticking around to do the job I was hired to do. 'Spare the rod and spoil the child', I believe were his very words."

"What do you mean?"

"That your father has authorized me to use this on your sassy ass when your temper gets the better of you. Right now? You're just this close," he held up his fingers just an inch apart. "We'll forgo it now, but you can take this as a warning for next time."

"You wouldn't dare spank me!" she was livid.

"Care to test me, Sam?"

"I'll have you fired. And don't call me Sam!"

"I don't think so," he shook his head.

She stared him down for several seconds, neither one batted an eye. Finally, she stepped back, taking another deep breath. This was just like her father to cook up another scheme to control her, just the way he'd controlled her all her life. She had no intention of submitting to a spanking, but Joel Cameron would not be the one to complain to. He was just another of her daddy's henchmen. "I'll tell you what, Joel Cameron, you do your job as my assistant, you go over my files, you consult with me, and I won't bring this up with daddy."

"Fine. I plan on doing a very good job. If you give me the chance, I'm sure you could benefit from my input. And as long as you behave there won't be any need for this," he plucked the paddle from her desk. There was an alluring twinkle in his eye as he sauntered from the office, which only fanned the flames of her rising temper.