Intermission
Atlanta Cole was hardly surprised seeing the sensuous redhead approach her desk, but it had been a long time between visits—at least three weeks since the last. She sighed to herself, finding it a strain knowing exactly what to say to her.
“Nice to you see you, Miss Lourdes,” she said with her signature smile.
“And you, Ms. Cole. Tell Mr. Rawlings that Miss Lourdes is here to see him, that is Scarlet Lourdes.”
“He is away from his desk.”
“Maybe so,” the young woman said in a firm, clear voice, “but he might have returned—through that other door, and just in case he did, I think he’d like to see me.”
“Scarlet?” Atlanta returned to the name she’d not heard before.
“Yes, Scarlet Rose Lourdes, S. R. Lourdes.”
Atlanta gave the very serious woman a thoughtful glance. “I’ll
