Honeysuckle Rose

Chapter 1

Monday morning, Pittsburgh

"I KNOW, MR. Hannibal. Please, you must understand why we have to add a five percent risk premium to your usual rate... Mr. Hannibal, there's no need to be rude. Acme Insurance has paid out a substantial amount... I realize those thefts were unusual... yes, Mr. Hannibal, I agree, otherwise you... I understand you're upset, Mr. Hannibal. As I said, I agree, you do have an excellent record."

Rose DeAngelo arched her back and ran tense fingers through her heavy twist of dark hair. It didn't help a bit. Blast it! Headaches like this one generally didn't start until after lunch.

A second light on the phone flashed. Rose stared at the little orange square, peripherally aware that it blinked in perfect time with the pounding in her head.

"Mr. Hannibal." Rose clenched her teeth against the blossoming pain in her skull. "There is no other option. I'm sorry. I'm going to switch you back to my secretary. You'll pay the additional five percent? Fine. Please give Denise the route information."

Rose took the next call, groaning audibly the moment she recognized the patronizing voice. Sighing, she reached into her drawer for two aspirin. James Dearborn was the last person she wanted to talk to right now.

Not a promising sign, Rose. She ignored the quiet voice in the back of her mind. Now was not a good time for analyzing relationships. Rose gulped the aspirin with a swallow of tepid coffee and grimaced at the bitter taste.

"James... hello." She twisted the large marquis-cut diamond on her left hand. Why was it, lately, all her conversations with James made her ring finger itch?

"Please, James. I don't have time to discuss this right now." Rose glanced through the glassed wall of her office into the waiting room beyond. Her boss leaned over Denise's desk, waving a large stack of folders under the young woman's nose.

"You want to what?" Line two blinked hypnotically. Line three quickly joined in. She couldn't possibly have heard James right. What did he say? Set a date? Rose furiously scratched the raw skin under the offending ring. "No," she said, well aware of the sense of desperation in her voice. "I absolutely refuse to plan my wedding because your mother has a free weekend in July! No James... absolutely not... no, we can't discuss it at lunch with your mother. I don't have time for lunch today... are you giving me an ultimatum?" Rose pulled the ring off her finger, scratching frantically.

Denise, precariously balancing a huge armload of folders, opened the office door with her shoulder. Frank Bonner, the company president, glared through the open door into Rose's office, then rudely signaled for her to join him in his. James's voice droned on, bouncing around inside Rose's head, thumping in time to the pounding behind her eyes.

Denise set the pile of folders on the corner of Rose's desk, then quickly backed out of the office. As she closed the door the stack gradually slipped to one side. Rose stretched full length across the large oak desk, holding the phone to her ear with one hand, grabbing for the top of the pile with the other. She felt the snag in her new black stockings open up then run the length of her leg, crawling up her inner thigh at precisely the same rate of speed as the folders slid to the floor.

"We'll have to talk another time, James." Rose took a deep breath and broke the connection. She knew she'd hear about her behavior later, but there was no way she could deal with him now.

She signaled for Denise to take the call on line three, then punched the button for line two. James's mother. Could this day possibly get any worse?

Alicia Dearborn's shrill voice crackled into Rose's ear. "No, Alicia. I can't go to lunch with you and James... I'm sorry too. I'll have to call you back." Rose gritted her teeth. "I'm very busy. No, nothing special. Just a typical Monday. Good bye."

Sighing, Rose replaced the handset. She stared at it a moment, daring the phone to ring, then picked the scattered folders up off the floor and piled them on her desk.

She couldn't put off her meeting with Bonner any longer, no matter how unpleasant the prospect. It had to be about the recent hijackings. Acme Insurance had paid a bundle in settlements the past few months and pressure around the office had been steadily building.

Most of that pressure had come from Rose's office.

Insuring special loads for long-haul trucking companies had its risks, but lately it appeared as if someone had it in for her clients. Even Hannibal Trucking's perfect record had been compromised with two major thefts in the past two weeks.

Rose glanced at the heavy oak nameplate on her desk, the one Mr. Bonner had presented to her the day he'd promoted her to manager. "It'll make a dandy bookend," she muttered. She stared at the etched letters of her name a moment longer, then headed out the door for the inevitable dressing down from the boss.