Chain Lightning

ELIZABETH

LOWELL

CHAIN LIGHTNING

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed“ to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.“

ISBN 1-55.166-538-7

CHAIN LIGHTNING

Copyright © 1988 by Two of a Kind, Inc.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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“What you need is a lover.“

Mandy’s head snapped up from the papers scattered across her desk. The movement was so sudden that it sent her silky, chin-length black hair flying, but a single glance told her that it was too late to deflect Anthea. The tiny dynamo who stood next to Mandy was already in overdrive; Anthea had that special gleam in her eyes, the one that came only when she had found a new “project.“ Mandy stifled both a sigh and a smile, pulled her scattering thoughts together and put away the masculine image that had sprung into her mind at the mention of a lover.

A thatch of unruly, sun-cured blond hair, strong, lean hands, jade-green eyes that never smiled.

“That’s a wonderful idea,“ Mandy said cheerfully. “I’ll stick up a bank and take my pick of the bachelors at the OCC auction tomorrow night.“ In neat, slanting printing she wrote on her calendar for the following day: Rob bank. Buy lover. Soonest. “Anything else? Have you found a replacement for Susie yet? Should I rob another bank and double the next receptionist’s salary?“

“I have two excellent candidates.“

Mandy was careful not to inquire whether Anthea’s candidates were for the position of OCC receptionist or that of lover for one Samantha Blythe. Mandy prayed that it was the former. She didn’t want to be the focus of her boss’s unpredictable charitable impulses, especially on the subject of men. The last thing Mandy wanted was another waltz around a marriage ring with the kind of easy-smiling, honey-voiced liar her husband had been.

“Both of them are presentable and skilled,“ Anthea continued, numbering attributes on small, immaculately kept hands. “One of them was recently widowed and the other isn’t married.“

A neutral sound from Mandy was more than enough encouragement for Anthea to continue her summary of the candidates. Nothing in her voice or demeanor gave a clue as to which position the candidates were slated to fill – office worker or bedroom athlete.

“Both of them had very clean, neatly kept hands, which is essential,“ the older woman said crisply. “They both look strong and healthy, but it’s hard to tell without trying them out. On the whole, I don’t think either one will require on-the-job training. They seemed to be self-starters.“

Mandy made a strangled sound.

Anthea continued without a pause, not noticing the look on her executive secretary’s face. “Education and a sense of humor would be nice but aren’t necessary. After all, no one expects anyone in that position to do more than take directions and follow through with a one hundred percent effort and no shilly-shallying. In the final analysis, all the job really requires is cleanliness, a generous portion of stamina and a willingness to take direction without sulking.” “Stamina?“ Mandy asked faintly, banishing the images in her mind and wondering if Anthea was taking her usual bluntness to new highs. Or lows.

“But of course. Stamina is vital if the job is to be adequately filled.“

“It is?“

Anthea gave Mandy an exasperated look. “Dear girl, do you have any idea how many receptionists I’ve lost because they had delicate constitutions? Too many. Now I look for someone sturdy. When you applied for the job I almost didn’t hire you. You looked frail. Too thin. Too nervous,“ Anthea said with typical bluntness. “If it hadn’t been for that determined chin and those haunting gold eyes of yours, I would have turned you down without a tryout.“

Mandy started to speak, then realized it was futile. Anthea was in full sail.

“I was wrong,“ Anthea continued without a pause. “You’ve been with Our Children’s Children for eighteen months and never taken a sick day, even after I doubled your work load by making you into my girl Friday.“ The older woman blinked and focused suddenly on Mandy. “You’ve never taken a vacation, either, come to think of it. No wonder you’ve looked so wan lately.“

“You haven’t taken a vacation, either,“ Mandy pointed out, sidestepping the implicit question as to why she had looked so washed-out for the past week or so. If her middle-of-September memories showed on the outside, she’d have to wear more makeup. Nobody in her new life knew what had happened almost two years ago. Mandy preferred it that way. Pity was her least-favorite emotional flavor. “If you’re feeling guilty about being a slave driver, may I point out that it has been four years since Sutter has had more than five days off in a row – and those days were spent traveling to some other desperate spot on the globe.“

For a moment Anthea looked startled. “No. It can’t have been that long!“

“Four years, two months, ten days and – “ she glanced at the clock “ – fifteen hours and thirty-two minutes, to be precise. The latter is by his reckoning, but I certainly wouldn’t care to argue the matter with him.“

Anthea’s faded green eyes narrowed suddenly. “Did he call while I was out?“

‘ Twice. Once from the airport and once from his condo. He said, and I quote, ‘If Aunt Ant has signed me up for any more expert testimony on Capitol Hill, I’ll box up the entire Senate and send it C.O.D. to hell.’”

Anthea sighed. “Poor boy. He does hate cities and committees. But he’s so very impressive….“

Mandy barely caught herself before she muttered, “Amen.“ D. M. Sutter was very impressive indeed, whether it was as a land reclamation specialist, as a futurist or simply as a man. In the eighteen months she had worked for Our Children’s Children, Mandy had seen Sutter only occasionally, always unexpectedly, and each time she had been unnerved by his sheer presence.

It was more than simply a matter of size. Mandy had known many men taller than Sutter’s six feet one inch, or more heavily built than Sutter, with his lean muscularity, but none of the bigger men could have commanded attention in a crowded room just by standing quietly. Sutter could, and did. He had a rapier intelligence and unflinching pragmatism that showed in his jade-green eyes and in his face, tanned by foreign suns and drawn into harsh lines by having seen more human greed, suffering, fear and stupidity than any man should have to see.

“I got the feeling that Sutter wanted to go someplace… clean,“ Mandy said softly.

Shrewd, pale eyes measured Mandy. Few people except Anthea ever saw beyond Mandy’s quick smile and sassy one-liners to the very private, intelligent and vulnerable woman beneath.

“You sound as though you would like to go there, too,“ Anthea said speculatively. “Somewhere clean.“

For an instant the luminous amber of Mandy’s eyes was darkened by shadows. There was no place on earth like that for her because wherever she went, her memories also went. But that wasn’t Anthea’s problem. So Mandy smiled and shook her head, denying the shadows in her eyes and making her shiny black hair fly.

“Not me. I’ve got three reports to run through my magic machine,“ Mandy said lightly, gesturing toward her word processor. As she did, she saw a familiar figure from the comer of her eye. “And a stack of letters as big as Steve’s ego to – “

“Hey, I heard that!“ Steve interrupted, calling from the doorway.

“ – and a new picture to add to your finished projects’ gallery,“ Mandy finished blithely, as though she had neither seen Steve nor heard his outraged yelp.

“A finished project?“ Anthea asked. “Was Susie accepted by an agency?“

“Susie?“ Steve asked simultaneously, forgetting about his wounded ego. “Did she call?“

Mandy’s smile became compassionate rather than teasing as she turned toward Steve. The young lawyer was a walking client – tall, dark, handsome – but the cliché failed to cover his unguarded ego. He had fallen for Anthea’s former receptionist and most recent “project.“ Unfortunately for Steve, Susie had seen only the dreams in her own eyes, not those in his. Though only eighteen, Susie had the face, body and discipline to become an international cover girl. What she had lacked was contacts and the thousands of dollars required to pay for a portfolio of highly professional photos to leave with agencies. Anthea had supplied the contacts, the cash and the plane ticket to Manhattan.

“Susie just signed on with an international modeling agency,“ Mandy said. “They’re sending her to Paris on Tuesday.“

Steve’s mouth tightened, then curved into a sad smile. “That’s what she wanted. I’m happy for her, I guess.“

“Be happy for yourself,“ Anthea said crisply. “Susie was too young to settle down. Better that she find out what she’s made of in New York than make herself and some decent young man such as you utterly miserable by getting married in California.“

“Is that the collection of international precedents on the use of rivers that flow through more than one country?“

Mandy asked quickly, changing the subject and gesturing toward the thick, dark folders gathered under Steve’s arm.

He grabbed the new topic like the lifeline it was. Anthea had many fine points, but finesse wasn’t one of them. Sutter was the same, impatient with people who lacked the common sense to avoid life’s more obvious mine fields. Mandy, who had stumbled into one of those fields when she was Steve’s age, had a great deal of sympathy for the young man’s unhappiness. He was lucky to have escaped a bad marriage, but he was too young and too inexperienced to appreciate that fact. Mandy wasn’t.

“Here’s every precedent I could find,“ Steve said, flopping the bulging folders on Mandy’s desk. Papers went flying in all directions. “Oops. Sorry about that.“

“You’ll be even sorrier when I tell you that the very papers you’re carpeting the ceiling with are your entire presentation to the Senate Committee on Foreign – “

“Then don’t tell me,“ Steve interrupted quickly. “What I don’t know won’t hurt me, right?“

Wrong,
thought Mandy.
Ignorance can not only hurt, it can kill.
But she hadn’t known that at his age, so she could hardly blame him now.

“When you’re finished picking up the mess,“ Anthea said to Steve, “come into my office. The delegate from Belize has raised some ridiculous tribal legal precedent to prevent us from building that fish farm.“

Steve swore. “Have you hinted that ten percent of all profits will go to him?“

“He wants half.“

“Sutter would raise hell,“ Steve said.

“Sutter would like to feed the old bandit to the fish,“ Anthea said calmly. “However, if we waited for perfect leaders and perfect solutions, nothing would ever get done.“

The phone rang. Mandy reached for it immediately.

“If that’s Mr. Axton,“ Anthea said quickly, “I’m out.“

“For how long?“

“Until he arises from his dead posterior and writes OCC a check that will make me smile.“

Mandy mentally added another zero to the figure she had been prepared to give Mr. Axton. Though most of the Sutter wealth was tied up in OCC’s charitable trusts, enough remained to make Anthea a wealthy woman. Her childhood friends were even more wealthy. Mr. Axton was one of them. He had been trying without success to persuade Anthea to have dinner with him.

“You should auction yourself off at the fund-raiser tomorrow night,“ Mandy said. “I have a pair of silk harem pants that would raise more than Mr. Axton’s posterior.“

Anthea looked thoughtful for a few moments, then smiled widely. “The auction. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?“

“You did, remember? No one else would have had the sheer brass to ask men like that to auction themselves off for charity and eager divorcees.“ Mandy grabbed the phone on the fourth ring. “OCC, may I help you?“ Pause. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Axton. Miss Sutter just stepped out.“ Pause. “Four zeros should do nicely, not including the two to the right of the decimal point.“ Pause. “Of course it’s exorbitant, but I’m afraid Miss Sutter has a weakness for grand gestures – she makes so many of them, as you know.“

Steve snickered. Anthea merely arched her silver eyebrows.

“That’s very generous of you, sir. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.“

Anthea waited impatiently until Mandy hung up the phone. “Well?“

“Thirty thousand,“ Mandy said succinctly.

“Lovely,“ purred Anthea. “The man is a scholar and a gentleman. I look forward to dinner with him. Make that two dinners.“

“Two?“

“Oh, yes. He has wonderful hands.“ Pale green eyes focused sharply on Mandy. “You can always tell a man by his hands, dear. If you don’t believe me, look at Sutter’s someday. My brother might not have had the sense and grit that God gave a goose, but no one can say the same of his son. Pity the boy hasn’t found a woman. I hate to see good genes go to waste.“

“I thought you didn’t approve of marriage,“ Steve said as he stacked a handful of the flyaway papers on Mandy’s desk.

“Marriage?“ Anthea smiled. “My dear boy, it will come as a great surprise to the men and women of this benighted world that marriage is a necessary precursor to conception.“ She turned to Mandy. “Do you have Susie’s picture or did you put it on my desk?“

Mandy retrieved a folder from the out basket. “Right here.“

“Good. Help me hang it while Steve chases paper. That makes two completed projects this week, you know.“ Anthea’s lean, lined face settled into satisfied lines. “Lovely, just lovely. It couldn’t have happened at a better time….“

Mandy followed her boss, torn between the desire to upbraid Anthea for her abrupt treatment of the lovelorn Steve and an impulse to hug the tiny dynamo for caring enough about the various people who crossed her path to take a hand in their personal destinies. An unintentionally imperious hand, to be sure, but very helpful all the same.

The south wall of Anthea’s office was given over to photos of all sizes and settings. Their only similarity was that each featured a person who had been helped by a timely application of Anthea’s money. There was a young man who had worked his way through journalism school and applied for the position of reporter at various papers in California, only to discover that having a car was a requirement for the job; without a job, he couldn’t afford a car. Anthea had supplied the latter, the
Los Angeles Times
had supplied the former, and the young man. had begun his career.