Confessions of the World's Oldest Shotgun Bride by Gail Hart Page A

St. John on a mission. Besides, it wouldn’t work; her mother would keep calling until she got through and got her pound of flesh. Kathryn might as well get it over with. She punched the button for her private line. “Hello, Mother.”
    “Kathryn, you’re in. You didn’t return my calls, so I thought surely you must be in a meeting.”
    Kathryn willed herself to take steady breaths and keep her tone neutral. “I got your messages and your e-mails. I was going to call you as soon as I took care of the Monday morning work emergencies. Things pile up when I’m on vacation.”
    “I know you were on vacation, but you were supposed to get home last night, so when you didn’t call, I was worried. You should show some consideration for your old mother.” The woman’s martyred tone would have done Joan of Arc proud.
    “I got in late, so I thought it would be more considerate not to call and wake you.”
    “Don’t get smart with me, Kathryn Ann. I don’t care if you’re some sort of high muckety-muck at the office. I went through twenty hours of labor to bring you into the world, and I deserve respect.”
    “I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just thought it would be better to talk to you later, when I could give you my full attention.”
    “As usual, your priorities are all wrong. Family should come first. If you realized that, by now you’d have a husband and children of your own.”
    The words instead of being a dried up old maid were left unsaid, but Kathryn heard them anyway. There was no way she had the time or the energy to deal with these histrionics right now. She mouthed a silent scream before answering, “Look, Mom, I have to run to a staff meeting. I promise, I’ll call you later and tell you all about my trip.”
    She’d barely turned back to her computer when the intercom buzzed again. She jerked the receiver off the hook. “What is it that can’t wait until I’ve had my coffee?”
    “Your coffee’s on its way up. And Phillips is here.” Janelle’s voice carried the soothing tone of someone trying to calm a cranky four-year-old.
    Oh shit. Phillips was B&W’s chief accountant. This couldn’t be good. “Is he in a tizzy?”
    “Definitely.”
    “On a scale of one to ten, how bad?”
    “Eleven.”
    “Show him in,” Kathryn said, her voice resigned. Yup, it was going to be a long day all right. Where the hell was her coffee?
    * * *
    Kathryn wanted to scream. She hadn’t even made it to lunch, and already her plan for the day was shot full of holes. Her slim hope of getting home at a reasonable hour had evaporated. She could forget about a relaxing soak in a hot bath with a glass of white zinfandel.
    Just as well. Travel fatigue was kicking her ass worse than usual. The way she was dragging, she’d probably fall asleep in the tub and drown.
    Janelle’s head appeared around the edge of Kathryn’s door. The younger woman’s eyes were giant black marbles. “You have a delivery, Ms. St. John. Oh my God, do you have a delivery.”
    Kathryn raised an eyebrow. What had the girl in such a state?
    Janelle walked into Kathryn’s office and deposited an outlandishly large vase of pinkish-orangish roses on her desk. Kathryn opened the tiny florist’s envelope and took out the card. On it was a photo of a pair of angelfish with the message, “Later, Katie... XXX, Steve.”
    “Who’s Steve?”
    Kathryn jerked her head up. “You read the card?”
    “I thought they were from a client and you’d want me to send a thank you note.”
    No trace of guile showed on Janelle’s face. The girl didn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed. She wasn’t lying. She’d honestly believed this jungle’s worth of flora was a business gift. It had finally come to this—everyone assumed she had no personal life.
    “That won’t be necessary.”
    “Because you’ll thank him in person, ‘later’?”
    Did Steve plan to drop by? So much for avoiding office gossip. Her visitors didn’t usually look