She wandered off down the hall; he closed up the office and headed in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen. He got himself a quick snack; glanced into the darkened living room, and saw that Mooncrow had already retired to his room. The old man had been “working” a lot; he probably needed a good night’s rest more than Jennie did at this point. Medicine sure can take it out of you, he thought soberly, heading back toward his own room, after making certain of all the physical locks on doors and windows and turning off the lights. I never knew that, either. It’s work, as hard as manual labor. Hell, no wonder the old man is in good shape. He has to be. Maybe that’s why Jennie took Tai Chi way back when. Maybe I ought to think about some kind of martial arts class, or aerobics, or something. …

As he turned off the hall lights, he saw that there was no light coming from either the sauna or from under Jennie’s door. Good, he thought with satisfaction. She needs the rest. I’ll just do a couple of chapters in that book about the Osage and—

But as he opened his own door and closed it again, he froze. Because he was not alone. His hand stuck to the light switch as he heard soft breathing; after a moment, he lowered it, carefully.

My .45 is tucked right on top of the Webster’s. Whoever this is—

“Don’t bother looking for your gun,” came a whisper from behind him, as he stealthily reached toward the top of the bookcase by the door, where he kept his automatic. “I moved it.”

A pair of hands rested on his shoulders for a moment, and turned him carefully around. “I figured your reflexes were as automatic as mine,” Jennie continued, with a chuckle, “and I didn’t want to get shot.”

She laughed softly, deep in her throat. It was the most incredibly sexy laugh he’d ever heard. He brought his hands up, slowly, and she fitted herself into his arms.

“Jennie, what are you doing here?” he said, finally. A stupid thing to say, but it was the only thing his stupefied brain could come up with.

“Sexual harassment,” she said. “Trying to see if I can get my new secretary to go to bed with me.”

“Assistant,” he replied, firmly. “I’m holding out for assistant. I may be easy, but I’m not cheap.”

Jennie chuckled again, and pulled him over to the bed. “All right,” she agreed. “Assistant it is.” She began unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, taking the initiative. “So long as it’s understood that I am the one seducing you.”

“Yes, boss-ma’am,” he replied obediently. His fingers touched the top button of her jeans, and stopped there. “By the way, if you don’t mind my asking—why now?”