“A JOB,” CAITLIN TAYLOR muttered for the hundredth time. She paused from straightening her silk stockings to roll her eyes upward with a wry grimace. “I hope you and God are having a good laugh, Dad. You certainly got the last one on me.”

Her heart ached as it had all month, ever since her father had unexpectedly passed away from kidney failure.

It might have hurt a little less, she admitted, if he hadn’t given away his fortune to everyone but his own daughter. Instead, he’d left her…a job.

At least he’d done that. In her ice-blue satin lingerie, she faced the full-length mirror. Her reflection wavered as fear gripped her, but she had no illusions. Her naturally wavy blond bob, no matter how she combed it, made her look as if she’d just climbed out of bed. Her overly curvaceous body refused to be tamed by exercise. This morning, her deep brown eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, and already carefully accented with liner and mascara. She looked like a young, beautiful woman with the world at her fingertips.

If only it were true.

Caitlin gave a half laugh and shoved back the unaccustomed fear and panic.

She’d never held a job in her life. Her father had spoiled his only child. In all her twenty-four years, she had only a handful of memories of him, mostly due to his heavy traveling and prominent social schedule. Still, as her only family, he’d made sure her every material need had been met. Fashion had been her first love, and he’d given in to it. Milan, Paris, New York, Los Angeles…she knew these places intimately; they were her playgrounds. She’d gone to designing school in Paris and New York, both on her father’s bank account, but the truth was, she wasn’t talented enough to make it in that cutthroat world. Since then she hadn’t been idle-far from it, for organizing society events was a particular talent of hers, even if it didn’t count as a job, or earn her money.