A Woman's Touch

inside, in spite of all the turmoil of recent days, in spite of the past, a part of him had counted on Rebecca staying with him.
    Was this the way it had been for his father when Martha Stockbridge had fled? He wondered how any man could go on after a part of him had been ripped to shreds.
    Kyle increased the speed of the Porsche as he left the mountains. He had to find Rebecca. He wasn’t going down the same route his father had taken. He would not turn into the bitter, joyless man his father had become. Damned if history was going to repeat itself again. He was not his father, and Rebecca was sure as hell not a weak, fragile, overly delicate female who couldn’t handle a man’s temper.
    Kyle was not going to repeat his father’s mistakes. At least not every damned one of them. Not if he could help it.
    He would find Rebecca and explain that to her. He would explain it very, very clearly, Kyle told himself grimly.
    But by Sunday Kyle finally admitted to himself he wasn’t going to locate her very easily in Denver. He had checked her old apartment, her favorite restaurants, even left messages at the major hotels. At night he prowled his condominium, pacing from room to room as if expecting her ghost to materialize.
    Kyle got out of bed on Monday morning and remembered he had a business to run. He couldn’t ignore Flaming Luck Enterprises any longer. He had already been away a full week without checking in. Lord only knew how Harrison was getting along with no sharp, efficient, capable executive assistant there to cover for the boss’s absence.
    He stood under the shower for fifteen minutes, shaved with acute precision, found a clean shirt and forced himself to eat some cereal. But none of the familiar morning rituals had the power to erase the ravages left by the events of the week.
    Even Kyle could tell he looked like something out of the bottomless pit. He took one glance in the hall mirror, saw the darkness around his eyes, the grim lines that etched his mouth and noted the fact that he badly needed a haircut.
    He ran his fingers roughly through his dark hair, trying to tame it. Then he gave up the effort.
    He rode the elevator downstairs and climbed into the Porsche. The car’s sophisticated engine howled in commiseration as Kyle sent the vehicle roaring out of the garage. On the way to the office, Kyle tried to think of where to look next for Rebecca. He could pull her personnel file and get the addresses of her relatives.
    As he pulled into the lot and parked, he decided it was time to hire the same private-investigation agency that had located her in the first place.
    „Good morning, Mr. Stockbridge.“ Theresa Aldridge looked up in surprise as Kyle stalked into the office. „We didn
    ’t know whether to expect you today or not.“
    „I own the place, remember?“
    „Yes, sir,“ she said politely. „I do remember.“ She eyed his grim appearance and cleared her throat. „Did you have a pleasant vacation last week?“
    „I had one hell of a lousy time, Theresa.“
    „I’m delighted to hear that, Mr. Stockbridge,“ Theresa said automatically. Belatedly her eyes widened. „Excuse me, I mean…“
    „Never mind, Theresa. I know exactly what you mean. What’s going on around here? I see the building hasn’t fallen down in my absence.“
    Undaunted, Theresa assumed the professional air of an executive secretary. „Most of your messages have been handled already, of course, but there are a few I held for you.“ She reached for a pad. „Do you want to go over them now?“
    Kyle stifled an oath. „Yeah. Bring them in with my coffee.“
    A familiar gleam lit Theresa’s eyes. „Mr. Stockbridge, you know how Miss Wade feels about secretaries getting coffee for their bosses.“
    „Unfortunately for you, Theresa, Miss Wade does not run this business.“ Kyle slammed open the door of the inner office. „At least not any longer, she doesn’t,“ he added under his breath. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to have her back, managing ways and all. He would make his own coffee every morning if it meant he could share it with Rebecca.
    „And what did you mean that most of my messages have been handled already?“ he called out to her.
    „Mr. Harrison handled some, and the rest were taken care of in the usual manner.“
    Kyle ignored the cryptic response and closed the door. The ‘usual manner’ during the past two months had come to mean that Rebecca had taken care of things.
    Kyle scanned the