Page 27 of A Legal Affair
“Rodriguez. Luis Rodriguez. Yes, thank you very much.”
“Coming right up.”
Daniela made her way toward the reception desk where the secretary was juggling multiple calls. She sent Daniela a flustered look as she approached. “Kenneth Roarke isn’t in at the moment,” she spoke into the receiver. “Can I transfer you to his voicemail? All right, please hold.” She pressed a flashing button on the phone and then groaned. “Oh, no. I hung up on him. Again.”
Daniela inwardly cringed. “Why don’t you take a break and get Mr. Rodriguez a cup of coffee?” she suggested.
The woman was only too eager to vacate her station in exchange for a less demanding task.
Daniela spent the next fifteen minutes answering and forwarding calls with a swiftness and efficiency borne from years of practice. Three years, to be exact.
That was how Noah found her when he emerged from his office followed by another man. After escorting his client to the door, Noah doubled back to the reception desk, one dark brow raised at his sister.
“Where’s Carole?” he asked.
“Making coffee.”
Noah grimaced. “Have youtastedher coffee?” he muttered under his breath so he wouldn’t be overheard by those waiting in the reception area.
Leaning forward, Daniela whispered back, “It can’t be much worse than her receptionist skills.”
“Don’t be too sure about that.” Noah turned and gestured for Luis Rodriguez to follow him back to his office.
Carole returned a few minutes later carrying a disposable cup filled with a burnt, sludgy brew masquerading as coffee. “Where’s Mr. Rodriguez?”
“With Noah. I’ll take him the coffee,” Daniela promised, knowing she’d do no such thing as she accepted the cup from the woman and rose from the chair.
After going through two Keurig machines over the past year, Kenneth had insisted they return to making coffee the old-fashioned way, using a standard coffeepot and ground coffee beans. One taste of Carole’s unpalatable brew would cure him of such frugality, but he wisely wouldn’t touch the stuff.
The phone rang, and while Carole was preoccupied, Daniela dumped her muddy coffee into a giant potted plant and tossed the cup in the trash before heading to her own office in the back.
Her office was actually a windowless cubbyhole that doubled as the supply room. The space was dominated by a wooden antique desk and bench, and black metal filing cabinets that marched along one wall. The basic functionality of the room was offset by soft, feminine touches interspersed throughout—a ceramic vase here, a cluster of decorative candles there, a multicolored wool serape that hung on a wall, a cashmere throw draped over a chair.
Ignoring a mound of paperwork that awaited her attention, Daniela dropped her purse on the desk and turned on the computer to check her email. Although she was on assignment and technically “out of pocket,” she couldn’t stay away entirely. For the past three years she’d ate, slept and breathed Roarke Investigations, serving as secretary, bookkeeper and part-time private detective as she helped her brothers establish the business. It was as much a part of her as it was part of Kenneth and Noah.
Just as she was responding to her last email message, Noah stuck his head through the open door and frowned. “What’reyou doing here, by the way? Not that I mind seeing you around, kiddo, but I thought we all agreed you should avoid this place as much as possible in case Thorne gets suspicious at some point and starts having you followed.”
“I know, I know,” Daniela muttered, sending off her reply. “I had a ton of messages to respond to.”
“You can check your email from home,” Noah reminded her dryly. “That’s why we set you up with remote access.”
Grinning at her brother, Daniela leaned back in her chair, propped her long legs on the desk and crossed her feet at the ankles. “One message was from a client who wanted to thank me for proving that her husbandwasn’tcheating on her. What do you have to say about that?”
Noah chuckled, stepping into the tiny office and causing it to shrink even more by the sheer breadth of his wide shoulders. He wore slim black trousers and a gray polo shirt that showed off his muscular physique. He could have stepped from the cover ofGQ, though he’d sooner wrestle tigers than suffer the cliché compliment.
“What I have to say,” he grumbled good-naturedly, dropping into the chair opposite her desk, “is that you’re in the wrong line of business, El. You’re supposed towantspouses to be guilty. How else are we supposed to make any money around here?”
Daniela made a face at him, but she knew that Noah, like her, took no pleasure in chasing down cheaters, especially when children were thrown into the equation. He loathed being the bearer of bad news almost as much as he loathed the act of infidelity itself.
“Not that we’re hurting for business around here,” Daniela said. “The phone’s been ringing off the hook all afternoon. What gives?”
“We’ve been running ads everywhere. Guess they’re finally starting to pay off.”
“Not for long if Carole keeps hanging up on people.”
Noah scowled. “Tell me about it. She’s thethirdsecretary we’ve hired in a month. After the first two disasters, we figured we couldn’t go wrong using a temp agency—especially since Carole came so highly recommended.”
Daniela snorted. “I’d hate to see what they consider incompetent.”
