A Billion Little Clues by Samantha Westlake Page A

standing, pulling me up out of my chair and into a hug!
    "Thank you," he whispered into my ear as he held me close. "Without you, I'm not sure how I'd be able to prove my innocence."
    "Of course," I replied, not quite sure what to do. He was very warm. And he was holding me very closely...
    The hug went on just a fraction of a second too long, switching over from professional into something that was definitely not so at all. Roman lessened his grip on me, but he didn't completely release, and I pulled back until I was once again gazing up at him. I could feel his hands on my back, their heat soaking in through my blouse into my hips. This time, my eyes were the ones to flit to his lips. They were there, slightly open, just begging for a kiss...
    But alas, it wasn't to be! With a grunt of what must have been his libido fighting against him, Roman finally released me, stepping back. "Great," he said, his voice sounding slightly choked. "Then from now on, you're my personal assistant - you report only to me, and no one else has any authority over you. I'll get you a list of everyone who was at the party, and you can go talk to them and see how they felt about Geoffrey without arousing suspicion. I'll spread the word that you're helping me plan the revised corporate chain to rebalance after his passing, so that can be your cover."
    "Great, sounds great," I said faintly. I was still thinking of this man pressed against me. A tiny little part of my brain was doing cartwheels inside my head. He likes me! it was screaming out in amazement. He really likes me!
    Roman raised one hand to point towards the door of his office. "Go out and talk to Eleanor," he said, not looking directly up at me. "She'll have the list ready for you. We'll open up an office on this floor for you to use as your own."
    That was clearly a dismissal. I picked up my coffee and left the office, heading back towards the receptionist slash model's front desk. My mind was already starting to turn over my new assignment. Had I bitten off more than I could chew?
    But as I left Roman's office, I swore that I could feel his eyes running up and down my backside in a very unprofessional manner.

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    Back at the receptionist's giant glass monstrosity of a desk, Eleanor gave me another one of her classic sighs, but also handed over the guest list from Roman's party. "And here," she added, holding a small card out towards me between two fingers, as if she wanted to avoid making any contact with my bare hand. "It's an access card. Roman said that you need to get into anywhere, so he had IT muck it up."
    I took the card from her extended slender fingers. "Thank you," I said, mainly because I was fairly sure that the words in my head were inappropriate for the workplace.
    Eleanor just wiggled her fingers at me, and so after another minute of awkwardly standing there, I decided that I should probably get to work. The receptionist had pointed out a nearby office and told me that it was open, so I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and then sank into the chair behind the desk.
    This office was a little smaller than Roman's - although that wasn't saying much. I could still probably hold a tennis match in here and have room to show off my backhand. At least the chair behind the (glass, of course) desk was more comfortable. It was one of those newfangled models with the mesh and bars that looks like some sort of crazy insect. I nearly snapped my back while trying to figure out which bar lowered the seat.
    With my chair adjusted, I spread out the list on the desk, and then stared down at it for a few minutes. I had no idea what to do next.
    I had been up with Roman when Silvers was killed, so I knew that he wasn't at fault. But after Roman had gone running off, I had headed downstairs and been swept up into the charging crowd. It was totally possible that the killer had done the same thing - he might even have been running next to me as we hurried back