“Uh…” Still stuffed and sleepy, Jules couldn’t think of anything to say but “I’m sorry.” She grimaced; she had to do better than that. “I mean, is she—”

“I dismissed her immediately, of course. I can’t have an assistant who coughs her lungs up all over my schedule.”

Jules shook her head as if that would help to clear it. “I’m, uh, sorry. Are you asking me to find a replacement or…”

“Be here by tomorrow,” Vivian said.

Jules’s voice died in her throat, and she stood stock-still at her parents’ kitchen counter, looking out the familiar window and watching traffic go by on the street where she’d grown up.

“Julia?” Vivian snapped, and Jules jumped.

Her father had risen to his feet and was looking at her with concern.

“Tomorrow?” Jules was short of air. “Vivian, I can’t. I’m home with my family—”

“Philadelphia has direct flights to London. I checked.”

“You did?” Jules blurted out. Then she recovered. “I mean, I guess so. But my passport is in New York.”

“What?” her dad said. “She can’t possibly want you to—”

She flapped her hand frantically at him. “Listen,” she said, inspired, “I know the London agency has other PAs. I’ll get them to send one over right now, and you won’t have the hassle of waiting for me.”

“Is there some part of ‘be here by tomorrow’ that you didn’t understand?” Vivian’s voice was a dangerous murmur.

Jules dug her free hand into her hair. “No, but—”

“Let me repeat myself, just in case: I. Want. You. Here.”

Jules closed her eyes. The words rolled through her, electric and irresistible. And that’s all there was to it. She was going to London, like it or not.

She didn’t like it. She couldn’t possibly like it.

“Use the company expense account,” Vivian continued. “Fly first class. There should be some available seats. You know how to make it happen.”

Of course she did. Vivian Carlisle’s name opened doors in a way that had to be seen to be believed. That didn’t make this okay. “I do, but—”

“Stopping by New York first will slow you down.” Vivian’s voice dripped with scorn for Jules’s thoughtlessness in not bringing her passport to Philadelphia. “Get the first flight out that you can.”

“Vivian—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She ended the call.

Jules stared at the phone in her hand, her head whirling, wondering if she was about to pass out. Or if she could just go upstairs, take that nap she wanted, and pretend she’d never gotten a phone call at all. No, that was no good. Her heart was pounding so hard, she’d never get to sleep.

“Jules?” her dad asked, looking at her with wide eyes.

She met his eyes with a flinch. “Um,” she said miserably, “can you drive me to the train station?”

Chapter 12

Chapter 12