Chances Are Read Online Free Page A

could have entered without me seeing them." She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Wait... right before you came in I went down the hall to use the copier. But there wasn't time..." Her words trailed off. "I closed the door behind me," she finally said.
    "It's not your fault, Maggie. You were doing your job." Brandon ran a hand through his hair and released his breath in a frustrated sigh. "From now on lock my office whenever you leave. And call security and notify them." She nodded and hurried back to her desk.
    Brandon shut the office door and strode across the room. He stopped just short of the desk and looked back at the door. He felt as if someone were watching him. Shaking his head, he settled into the leather swivel chair behind the desk.
    The chair creaked as he leaned back. He remembered the sound from everytime his father had sat in this chair. He ran his hand along the polished tabletop. This desk had seemed huge when he'd been ten, and his father had always seemed larger than life behind it.
    He looked around the room. Although it was a large office, it seemed cramped because of the massive wine-colored leather-and-mahogany furniture and the years of business and personal memorabilia that covered the walls and shelves. Three walls were exposed brick, the fourth was a picture window. The window looked out over the busiest street in New Orleans's central business district, Canal Street, and provided enough light to keep the room from being gloomy, but not enough to make it cheerful.
    Brandon leaned back in the chair, testing its spring and feeling like an impostor. He had to put aside his father's death and get to work. There was a lot of it to do. Besides the everyday business of running an establishment of this size, Rhodes was in the middle of renovating the Atlanta store and in the process of determining the profitability of a new store in Dallas.
    In the last two days he'd gone through all his father's papers and had talked to the attorneys and accountants. He had meetings scheduled for the rest of the week: buyers on Tuesday, department heads on Wednesday, advertising and publicity on Friday.
    Brandon pulled out the Dallas file. As he did, a key dropped to the floor. What? he wondered, bending to pick it up. He turned the small unmarked key over in his hand.
    It looked like the key to a safety deposit box. In fact—he pulled out his key ring—it looked exactly like the keys to his father's other two boxes.
    But according to the will there were only two boxes. He'd gone over everything with his legal staff. There wasn't supposed to be anything else. He reached for the phone to call his mother, then thought better of it. What if the box contained something his father hadn't wanted her to see? Like the remnants of a love affair?
    Brandon opened the file and carefully thumbed through the papers. He'd used this file yesterday and there hadn't been a key. But there must have been, he assured himself. It had to have been caught in a fold, or maybe it had been in an unsealed envelope.
    His musings were interrupted by the intercom. "Veronique Delacroix is here to see you."
    "Send her in, Maggie." Brandon closed the file and tucked the key into his pocket.
    Veronique entered the office, glancing around in frank curiosity. "You wanted to see me?"
    "Yes. Have a seat." Brandon watched as she crossed the room. She looked ready for the jungle. She wore khaki-colored cargo pants, a camouflage-print camp shirt with a bright white tee under it, and Timberland hiking boots. He smiled to himself. He could picture her in the jungle all right—conquering it.
    "What's up?" She settled into the chair across from him.
    He pulled out a file and flipped it open. What was that perfume she was wearing? She smelled like a field of wild-flowers. "You've been with us for five years," Brandon said, his crisp tone belying his thoughts.
    "Yes."
    "You have an art degree from the University