Rough Harbor by Andrea Stein Read Free Book Online

warm smell that must have been her perfume.
    Finally, he looked up at her, their faces close again.
    “Caitlyn,” he started to say, but she pulled away, so there was good foot or two of space between them. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to make sure they knew where they were supposed to be.
    “I have work to do. You should go. I am sure you have some place to be.”
    He looked at her for a long moment, putting a question in his eyes, until finally Caitlyn broke and dropped her gaze.
    “I’ll go for now, Caitlyn. But we’re not done talking. There are some things I need to tell you.”
    She just opened the door for him. He brushed past her on his way out, deliberately letting his shoulder touch hers. She felt it, too – the small thrill of electricity. He saw it in her eyes and heard it in the quick hiss of her breath and the way she quickly jumped back, giving him a wide berth.
    “I look forward to working with you, Miss Montgomery,” he said as he stepped out in the hall. Heads of assistants and secretaries swiveled towards him.
    Caitlyn smiled. Two could play this game. “As do I, Mr. Randall.”

Chapter 11
    Tommy Anderson stepped into Sam’s office. Two glasses and a bottle of single malt sat on the desk.
    “What are we celebrating?” Tommy asked, taking a seat.
    “Well,” Sam said, taking off his reading glasses and pouring out a finger of whisky into each glass. “Today was just the beginning.”
    Tommy took his glass, raised it in cheers and took a swallow. It was good stuff, and it slid smoothly down his throat.
    “I managed to convince Noah Randall that things would be best if he left them in my – that is, our – capable hands.”
    Sam took a sniff and a swallow of his own drink.
    “Kept asking about Caitlyn. Wanted to know if she’d be any good running the place.”
    Tommy chuckled. “Well, that would be something.”
    He settled back into his leather chair, letting his eyes take it all in. Sam had gone with the traditional masculine look – all dark wood, a faded Oriental rug in red and gold tones, rows of leather-bound volumes behind him. The desk was neat, one stack of papers, a computer and a phone. Pictures of yachts racing decorated the walls and half-hull models of bygone vessels took up prime shelf space.
    The man loved his sailing. Even the pictures of his family, in tasteful silver frames, showed them on boats. Here in the Caribbean, that one in New England with yellow foul weather gear. Sam Harris, Tommy knew, came from some money. Prep schools, sailing teams. He was a born snob, the feelings of privilege so inbred he didn’t even consider there could be some other way of life.
    It was a way of life foreign to Tommy. He’d grown up with a single mom and a missing dad, in a one-room apartment in the bad part of Hartford. Only some skill in baseball, good grades and a hustling mindset had kept him moving forward.
    “That’s what I said. I happen to know that those two have some sort of history together. Heard they were thick as thieves for awhile, back when they were kids. So I went easy on her. Told him to watch out for her.”
    “And why’s that?” Tommy leaned forward.
    “Oh, I’m pretty sure that old Maxwell made a few promises he didn’t intend to keep when he lured here.”
    “Lured her?” Tommy said. “I thought she ran into trouble in London – that she got fired and no one would give her a job?”
    Sam shrugged. “Maxwell said it wasn’t quite so cut and dried. Said it was never a performance issue, more of a personal one. Her grandfather and Maxwell used to run this place together. It was her great-grandfather that started it. Then her grandfather, Lucas, took it over and brought Maxwell on, made him a partner. Then when Lucas offed himself, Maxwell took over, complete control. It was about then I entered the picture.”
    Tommy swirled his drink in his glass, watching the dusky liquid catch bits of light from the green-shaded banker’s lamp. It