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without the formidable Miss Gresham in it. Like a lion guarding a temple, the woman hovered over Taggert possessively, never allowing anyone who didn’t have necessary business to see him.
    So now Karen couldn’t help herself as she walked softly about the room, which she’d been told had been decorated to Miss Gresham’s exquisite taste. The room was all white and silver, just like the tree—and just as cold, Karen thought.
    Carefully, she put the letters on Miss Gresham’s desk and started to leave, then, on second thought, she looked toward the double doors that led into his office. As far as she knew none of the women in the secretarial pool had seen inside that office, and Karen, as much as anyone else, was very curious to see inside those doors.
    Karen well knew that the security guard would be by soon, but she’d just heard him walking in the hall, keys jangling, and if she was caught, she could tell him that she had been told to put the papers in Taggert’s office.
    Silently, as though she were a thief, she opened the door to the office and looked inside. “Hello? Anyone here?” Of course, she knew that she’d probably drop dead of a heart attack if anyone answered, but still she was cautious.
    While looking around, she put the letters on his desk. She had to admit that he had the ability to hire a good decorator; certainly no mere businessman could have chosen the furnishings of his office, because there wasn’t one piece of black leather or chrome in sight. Instead, the office looked as though it had been taken intact from a French chateau, complete with carved paneling, worn flagstones on the floor, and a big fireplace dominating one wall. The tapestry-upholstered furniture looked well worn and fabulously comfortable.
    Against a wall was a bookshelf filled with books, one shelf covered with framed photographs, and Karen was drawn to them. Inspecting them, she figured that it would take a calculator to add up all the children in the photos. At the end was a silver-framed photo of a young man holding up astring of fish. He was obviously a Taggert, but not one Karen had seen before. Curious, she picked up the picture and looked at the man.
    â€œSeen all you want?” came a rich baritone that made Karen jump so high she dropped the photo onto the flagstones—where the glass promptly shattered.
    â€œI … I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I didn’t know anyone was here.” Bending to pick up the picture, she looked up into the dark eyes of McAllister Taggert as all six feet of him loomed over her. “I will pay for the damage,” she said nervously, trying to gather the pieces of broken glass.
    He didn’t say a word, just glared down at her, frowning.
    With as much in her hand as she could pick up, she stood and started to hand the pieces to him, but when he didn’t take them, she set them down on the end of the shelf. “I don’t think the photo is damaged,” she said. “I, uh, is that one of your brothers? I don’t believe I’ve seen him before.”
    At that Taggert’s eyes widened and Karen was quite suddenly afraid of him. They were alone on the floor and all she really knew about him personally was that a lot of women had refused to marry him. Was it because of his loathsome prenuptial agreements or was it because of something else? His violent temper maybe?
    â€œI must go,” she whispered, then turned on her heel and ran from his office.
    Karen didn’t stop running until she’d reached the elevator and punched the down button. Right now all she wanted on earth was to go home to familiar surroundings and try her best to get over her embarrassment. Caught like a teenage girl snooping in her boss’s office! How could she have been so stupid?
    When the elevator door opened, it was packed with merrymakers going up to the party three floors above, and even though Karen protested