Heart of Hurricane

Althea Winters stepped into the entryway and slammed the door behind her. The resounding crash rattled the frosted-glass panels on either side of the door and set the antique tulip-shaped chandelier swinging on its long chain. For a moment she eyed the quivering light fixture with grim satisfaction. The urge to do violence had been building all day and it was a great relief to give in to it, no matter how childish the action.

She stuffed her dripping umbrella into the copper stand with more force than necessary and wished bitterly that she had wrapped the darned thing around Mr. Jenkins' fat neck. It would have served him right!

Still fuming, Althea turned and climbed the stairs with quick, jerky steps, her long golden hair swinging between her shoulder blades like the angry lash of a tiger's tail.

It was incredible! Absolutely incredible that for four years she'd managed to function in the business world in a state of blissful ignorance. But no longer! During the past two weeks she had experienced a series of shocks and frustrations, and she had not been spared today. When she had left Barlow's she'd been confident that her skills and experience would enable her to secure an equally challenging, well-paying job. Instead she'd found herself being passed over because she was considered overqualified, or else her prospective employers showed definite signs of being more interested in her prowess as a bedmate than in her ability to run an office.

When Althea reached the landing and opened the door to her apartment she was breathing hard, not from exertion but in an effort to subdue her turbulent emotions. She had a problem to solve, and experience had taught her that the only way to do that was to analyze it, decide on a course of action and carry it through. Giving in to a fit of temper, though marvelously satisfying, accomplished nothing.

Althea's outward appearance was deceptive. Beneath the soft, feminine beauty and cool, tranquil air were a will of iron and a fiercely independent spirit. Because she seemed easygoing and tractable it often took people years to realize that eventually Althea always achieved exactly what she set out to do. Once her goals were fixed, she allowed nothing to dissuade her or stand in her way. If she met an obstacle she could not overcome, she simply backed up and approached the problem from another direction. The same relentless determination in a more obviously aggressive person would have been frightening.

The phone started ringing as Althea stepped inside her apartment. Quelling her anger, she quickly crossed the room to answer it.

"Hello."

"Hi. I just got back to the dorm and thought I'd call before I hit the books." Her brother's voice came over the line bright and cheerful, full of confidence. "So how did your interview go?"

"Not too well, actually." Althea sighed.

"Oh." Greg's tone altered drastically, the one word conveying his disappointment and concern. "What happened?"

The question produced a mental image of Mr. Jenkins' pudgy hand patting her knee, and Althea shuddered. "Oh. I think he already had someone in mind for the job. My interview was just a formality," she lied. She didn't dare tell Greg the truth. He was only nineteen, and six years her junior, but his attitude toward her was that of a protective older brother. He would break the dirty little man into a dozen pieces if he ever found out about his disgusting proposition.

"Tough luck," Greg muttered regretfully. "Have you got any other prospects lined up?"

Althea glanced at the classified section of the paper, which she had left on the coffee table that morning, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a wry smile. "Not yet, but I'm working on it."

There was a moment of silence; then Greg cleared his throat. "Uh . . . look, sis. I could get apart-time job. It wouldn't be much, I know, but it would help ease—"

"No! Absolutely not!" Althea insisted quickly. "You just concentrate on your studies and let me worry about the financial end."

Greg's offer both touched and appalled her. So far he had managed to maintain a high grade average at the university. A job, even a part-time one, would cut into his study time, and she couldn't allow that to happen. Ever since she could remember, Greg had dreamed of becoming an engineer. If she had to move heaven and earth, she would make that dream come true. Financing his education hadn't been easy, not even on the excellent salary she had made at Barlow's, but with careful budgeting she had managed.

"All right. If you say so," he agreed reluctantly. "But the offer still stands. Remember that, if things get too tight."

"I will. But don't worry. Something will turn up soon," she assured him, forcing a ring of confidence into her voice. "And even if it doesn't, remember I still have my savings to fall back on." Childishly Althea crossed her fingers in an effort to cancel out the glib lie.

"Okay. I guess you know best." His voice was still doubtful, but Greg was well-acquainted with his sister's dogged determination. "I'll give you a call tomorrow if I get a chance, but right now I'd better make tracks to the library before it closes."

"Okay. And remember what I said. Don't worry."

Althea hung up the phone and stared at it, frowning. She hated deceiving Greg, but there wasn't any point in both of them worrying over the situation.

The January rain was fast turning to sleet. The tiny chunks of ice clicked softly against the windows as Althea stripped off her gloves and stuffed them in her coat pockets. A chilling dampness had seeped into the apartment and she immediately went to the control switch and turned up the central heat.

The apartment was actually the top floor of a huge old Victorian house that had been left to her by her grandmother over four years ago. When she had inherited the house everyone had expected her to sell it, but to Althea the idea of having a secure home of her own had been irresistible. She had used the small cash legacy her grandmother had left her to have the house converted into two self-contained apartments. The top one she had chosen for herself, and the lease on the downstairs duplex provided her with the funds to maintain the old house in good repair and a small supplemental income, a circumstance for which she was profoundly grateful at the moment. At least, come what may, she would always have a roof over her head.

Althea paused to drop her coat over the back of a chair, then sighed wistfully as she thought of her shiny compact car sitting in the garage. If she didn't get a job soon she was going to have to dip into her savings to meet next month's payment, and there was precious little left in the account as it was, after paying Greg's midterm tuition fees. Heaven alone knew how she was going to scrape together his monthly allowance.

The trend of her thoughts caused Althea's soft mouth to firm. She would manage somehow. She was absolutely determined that he would have his chance.

Althea kicked off her high-heeled shoes and padded across the plush carpet to the kitchen. After making herself a cup of instant coffee she carried it back into the living room and curled up in the corner of the sofa. She picked up a pencil and the classified ads and began to reread each ad carefully. Earlier she had rejected most of the jobs listed, but at this point she could no longer afford to be choosy.

She had circled two possibilities and was going through the column for the second time when the doorbell rang.

The sound startled her. It was barely five o'clock, not a time when she would normally be home, so she doubted if it was anyone she knew. An irritated frown clouded her expression as she crossed the room to open the door. She was in no mood to put up with a door-to-door salesman at the moment.

"Judy!" Althea blinked in surprise at the fresh-faced, brown-haired young woman standing on her threshold. "What are you doing home so early?" Then, remembering her manners, she stepped back and opened the door wide. "Come in."

"I had a dental appointment, so I left the office early." Judy stepped inside the apartment, smiling at Althea's obvious confusion. "I saw your car in the garage and couldn't contain my curiosity any longer. How did your interview go?"

"Lousy." Althea motioned toward the sofa. "Have a seat and I'll get you some coffee."

Judy sank down onto the yellow damask cushion, but shook her head in refusal. "No, don't bother. One more cup and I'll probably have a caffeine fit." Althea retraced her steps and flopped down on the sofa next to Judy, whose expression was a mixture of concern and perplexity. "What happened this time? Don't tell me you got another song and dance about being over-qualified?"

"Oh, I was offered the job, all right, but I turned it down." Althea's lip curled in disgust. "I didn't care for the fringe benefits Mr. Jenkins was offering."

For a moment Judy's face was blank; then her brows rose in sudden comprehension. "You mean he made a pass?"

"No. He propositioned me outright."

Judy's shock quickly gave way to mischief and her brown eyes began to sparkle. "Ah, well," she sighed dramatically. "Some girls do seem to have all the luck."

"You wouldn't say that if you could see Mr. Jenkins."

"Bad, huh?"

Althea rolled her eyes eloquently.

"So what did you say?"

"I told him exactly what he could do with his job and his suggestion, poured a cup of cold coffee over his bald head and walked out."

Judy sucked in her breath. "You didn't," she breathed, her eyes wide.

" 'Fraid so."

"I'll bet that snapped his garters. The beautiful, serene Miss Althea Winters in a full-blown rage has got to be an awesome sight to behold."

Her friend's infectious laughter coaxed Althea's mouth upward into a reluctant smile. "He did look rather startled," she admitted ruefully.

For a few moments she was able to laugh too, recalling the look of absolute astonishment on the man's face as he had sat there with the brown liquid dripping off the end of his nose. But the very fact that she had reacted so strongly disturbed Althea, and she sobered quickly. It was unlike her to give in to her anger like that. The years growing up in her aunt and uncle's home, after her parents' death, had taught her the virtue of remaining cool, no matter what the provocation. Her aunt's husband was a brutal man who possessed a vicious temper. It hadn't taken Althea long to realize that it was wiser, and certainly safer, to keep a tight hold on her emotions and appear calm and tractable.

Judy's brown eyes softened with sympathy as she noted Althea's dejected expression. "I realize it's depressing, Al, but I'm very much afraid you're going to face that sort of thing, to some degree, almost anywhere you go. I mean, let's face it, the Thomas Barlows of this world are few and far between."

"So I'm learning." Only recently had Althea come to appreciate fully just how lucky she'd been when she landed the job with Barlow Manufacturing directly out of college. Thomas Barlow was in his sixties and touchingly in love with the plump, motherly woman to whom he had been married for over forty years. Though Althea knew that he was fond of her in his quiet, fatherly fashion, their relationship had been strictly business. Mr. Barlow was a very moral man who valued his employees for their skill and knowledge and treated them with the utmost respect. It had come as a rude awakening to her to discover that others did not.

"Anyway, I would think by now you would have plenty of experience fending off over-amorous males." Judy's face filled with wistful envy as her eyes traced her friend's classically beautiful features. "After all, you're twenty-five, gorgeous and still single. In the four years that Dan and I have lived downstairs there's been a whole string of eligible young men panting after you. I can't believe they were all perfect gentlemen."

"Of course not," Althea admitted. "But at least in my private life I have control. If a man I'm dating won't take no for an answer, I simply refuse to see him again. At work I don't have that option." Althea was not vain, but she knew perfectly well that she was beautiful. That was a reality she faced every time she looked into a mirror. But as far as she was concerned, the silky golden hair, the limpid blue eyes and the classic bone structure were merely gifts of fate—the result of the fortunate random meshing of genes. In all honesty it was a gift for which she was grateful. After all, no woman wanted to be unattractive.

And she had, indeed, had plenty of experience in fending off amorous males. But contending with that sort of behavior on a social level was one thing; on a business level it was something else again. She had absolutely no intention of wearing track shoes at the office.

"I see what you mean," Judy conceded. "What you need is a boss like mine."

Althea chuckled softly. "You're absolutely right. Somehow I can't imagine Mrs. Perkins chasing you around your desk."

"I'm not talking about Mrs. Perkins. I'm talking about Ward Kingman, the owner of the company."

A look of utter distaste flickered across Althea's face. "You mean the playboy? The one who's always getting his picture in the paper with some gorgeous sexpot hanging on his arm?"

"Well, I don't know that I'd call him a playboy, exactly, but yes, that's who I mean. Despite what you read in the papers, Ward Kingman is a very astute businessman, and when he is in that office he is all business. And, as it so happens, he's looking for a new executive secretary/assistant. Miss Dunston has held that position for the last ten years, but she's retiring."

Althea perked up instantly. "That sounds very much like the job I had at Barlow's. For heaven's sake, Judy! Why didn't you tell me about this before? It's exactly the sort of thing I'm looking for. You've got to set up an appointment for me! First thing tomorrow!"

"Sorry, Al, but it would be a complete waste of time, believe me," Judy replied with a regretful shake of her head. "Which is why I didn't mention it before. You wouldn't get beyond the preliminary interview with Mrs. Perkins."

"Why not?" Althea demanded indignantly. "I've had four years' experience with Barlow Manufacturing, the last as Thomas Barlow's personal assistant. I think I'm very qualified for the job."

"Qualified, yes. Acceptable, no."

"Just what's that supposed to mean?"

"The plain fact is, you're too darned good-looking," Judy said, then quickly held up her hand to stave off Althea's outraged reply. "Though Ward Kingman has a reputation as something of a ladies' man, I assure you he works even harder than he plays, and he never mixes the two. When the orders came down to Personnel to start interviewing for the job, we were told that Mr. Kingman wanted someone experienced, mature, levelheaded and dedicated. Translation: a dried-up old prune who will work like an automaton and won't take his mind off business. Someone like Miss Dunston."

Althea opened her mouth to protest, but the expression on Judy's face told her it was useless, and she slumped dejectedly against the back of the sofa. Damn! She wanted that job. She needed it. There must be some way she could . . .