Chapter Two
Grant Nichols stared grimly at the e-mail message Keith Myers pilfered from a female employee’s desk.
“Who did you say sent this?”
“I believe it was Felicity.”
“Felicity?”
“Miss Moon, the web designer.”
“The one with the wild black hair and the ….” He paused.
“Yes, that’s the one. Wore that really short skirt to the design meeting couple of weeks ago. You told me to have her wear something more appropriate next time.”
“Ah, yes, I remember.”
“Now I think she’s mocking you,” Keith said, nodding at the e-mail.
“How so?”
“References to prehistoric times, redneck sensitivity, macho posturing, gun-slinging…the women in the secretarial pool loved it, but the sarcasm and innuendo were rather pointed.”
“Yeah, I get the Texas backwoods references,” Grant droned. “I’m not th
