Olympia felt as if someone had lit a stick of dynamite and made her swallow it. The fuse hadn’t gone out, despite the saliva, and now she had a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode.
Surely she’d heard that woman wrong. The silver-blonde woman stood just behind Chet, her eyes a shade of brown Olympia felt sure other women would kill for.
“Well?” she asked Chet.
“Yes, but it’s not what you think,” he said quickly, casting a cutting glare at the other woman. “I have orders to get.”
“By all means.” Olympia gestured for him to go past her, and satisfaction moved through her when he looked cowed by her. He should be.
He’d worked for The Grand America.
Unbelievable.
Simply unbelievable.
How many times had she sat beside him on the couch and lamented over that very hotel chain? Accuse
