"Not that I know of, Mr. Prentice, but she doesn't always inform me when she has a personal lunch date."

Lifting his brows, he stared at her, contradiction in his eyes. "Grace doesn't have lunch dates unless you count her outings with that silly cousin of hers." When Elsa didn't respond, he asked, "There isn't someone that I don't know about, is there?" He shook his head. "No, of course not. She would have told me."

"I'm sure she would have, sir."

Hudson Prentice wanted Grace. Everyone who worked for Sheffield Media, Inc. knew it. Elsa smiled. Probably two-thirds of La Durantaye Parish knew it. The poor man had done everything but get down on one knee and beg Grace to marry him, but she gave the impression of being oblivious to his unrequited love. Elsa figured it was easier for Grace that way. She was less likely to hurt Mr. Prentice's feelings if she feigned ignorance.

Of course, she wasn't sure which the man loved more-Grace or her money. The curse of every wealthy woman.

Mr. Prentice backed out of the doorway. "Yes… well… buzz me when she-"

"Good morning." Grace Beaumont arrived at precisely one minute till nine, and looking like a breath of springtime in her white linen suit and pale yellow blouse. Grace was a classically beautiful woman, with natural blond hair and vivid blue eyes. Tall and slender, with an aura of elegance and fine breeding, she exuded cool sophistication.

Hudson turned and smiled. "Don't you look lovely this morning."

"Good morning, Grace." Elsa brought the cappuccino over to Grace's desk and placed the mug on a monogrammed earthenware coaster.

Grace entered her office, put her dark-green leather briefcase on the right side of her desk, then pulled out her large, hunter-green, tufted-leather swivel chair and picked up her coffee cup.

Hudson Prentice hovered in the doorway. Grace glanced at him.

"Is there something you need?" Grace asked pleasantly.