By the time Taren was finished loading the car, he had his plan. With a sense of satisfaction Taren closed the trunk, went back into the house, gathered his phone and what he’d need for lunch with Ian, then began the trip back to Ian’s office.
He was greeted in the outer office by Ian’s assistant, Jocelyn. “Here without an appointment again?” She looked up from whatever she was working on at her computer. She was a petite, nice looking woman around fifty who always offered a smile. Her dark, curly hair was streaked with shades of red that matched the red of her nails; everything about her matched, her makeup, jewelry, and clothes.
“Well.” Taren ran one finger over the edge of her desk. “I do have special permission.”
“Hmm…I bet you do,” Jocelyn laughed and winked at him. He liked her an
