Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

The third book in the Sisters Trilogy series

Special thanks to the incredible people who encouraged me and helped to make this book happen: Cindy Gerard, Rhonda Pollero, Binnie Syril Braunstein, and Tami Peckham.

Thank you also to my fabulous editors Frances Jalet-Miller and Karen Kosztolnyik.

Congratulations, Jackson. Because of your hard work and dedication, weve decided to offer you a junior partnership with the firm.

Jackson stared at his boss in surprise. Exhilaration pumped through him. Twelve years ago, hed been a high school dropout doing manual labor at a ranch in southwestern Texas. Hed moved to Dallas and done everything from waiting tables, to working as a part-time rodeo clown, to being a janitor in the evenings to earn his way through college and get his CPA.

Despite his fathers insistence that Jackson would never amount to anything, he had. This moment proved his father wrong. Jackson was a success.

It took a moment for him to find his breath. Thank you, Mr. Hollingsworth. I dont know what to say.

Mr. Hollingsworth, a fifty-eight-year-old balding man with a shrewd, creative, but always law-abiding mind, nodded. He removed a rumpled handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his shiny head. Youve earned it. Your salary will increase by twenty-five percent, youll receive an annual bonus, and you can hire an assistant. Youll also be offered Mr. Tills office. Hes retiring, he explained.

Jackson immediately calculated the difference in his salary, and three investment possibilities came to mind. Hed shared an assistant with the other CPAs until now, and Mr. Till, who appeared to be approximately three hundred years old, had a corner office.

This was the stuff of fantasies for a dirt-poor kid from southwestern Texas. This was like winning the lottery. This was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

He watched Mr. Hollingsworths head turn shiny with perspiration and felt an itchy sensation. That same itchy sensation had kept him alive in dark alleys and rowdy bars. That same itchy sensation had kept him away from troublesome females. That same itchy sensation had kept him from being gored by a bull.

It was the same itchy sensation that warned him: if it looked too good to be true, then it probably was.

Mr. Hollingsworth smiled at him nervously.

Jackson s stomach sank. Oh, shit. Whenever Hollingsworth smiled, there was trouble. Big trouble. He remembered the audit he had managed for one of their larger clients, who had neglected to disclose all their financial activities for a tax return. It had taken months of work to keep the guy out of prison.

Mr. Hollingsworth cleared his throat. You know we think a lot of you. Youve earned the respect of all of the partners and all the clients youve worked with.

Cut to the chase, Jackson wanted to say. He would have to assess the risk. Life was all about risk. If he could do whatever dirty work the firm wanted him to do, then he could claim his prize.

Of course, with additional reward comes additional responsibility. We, the partners and I, have carefully evaluated our client list, and we believe you are the man to handle the Granger account.

The Granger account, he echoed in disbelief. The Granger account was one of the firms top five accounts. Compared to the Granger account, everything Jackson had done had been chicken shit. He knew a few things about the account, but not much, because old Mr. Till had kept Harlan Grangers financial matters close to the vest.

As you know, Harlan Granger died six months ago, and most of his estate is being held in trust for his daughter, Lori Jean, Hollingsworth said.

Jackson hadnt ever met Lori Jean personally. Hed just seen photographs of her in the paper at charity functions or at her home while she posed with a prissy white dog that was probably fed filet mignon every night. Blonde, with a melt-in-your-mouth body, the woman was a looker, but she didnt appear to have much upstairs.

Hollingsworth cleared his throat. Since Mr. Till has retired, youll be in charge of managing the estate. He cleared his throat again and fingered his tie as if it were choking him. Some changes in the conditions concerning the dispersal of the trust have recently come to light. The senior partner of the firm rubbed his nose and shrugged. All in the files. You should go ahead and get started on them so you can meet with Miss Granger as soon as possible.

The itchy sensation climbed up the back of Jackson s neck again. Something about this just wasnt right. What about my other clients?

Dont worry. Theyll be temporarily reassigned. Im sure you know the Granger account is one of our largest accounts.

So, why were they giving it to him instead of one of the more senior partners? Jackson shoved his hands into his pockets and decided to test Hollingsworths desperation. Hed learned a long time ago that people would spend a lot of money to protect whatever they held dear. Jackson knew Hollingsworth held the Granger account very near and dear.

It sounds as if this could be more demanding of my time and energy than what Ive been doing here at the firm, Jackson said.

Hollingsworth slowly nodded. You could say that.

Do you think it might be more appropriate to give me a raise of thirty percent?

Hollingsworth paused, then mopped his head and cleared his throat. I think it could be arranged.

Jackson didnt know whether to shout in victory or brace himself for the depths of hell. If Hollingsworth was willing to fork over the bucks, things must be in a helluva mess.

Three days later, Jackson stood on the grand porch of the mansion where Harlan Granger had spent most of his days since hed hit the big time as an oil baron. He was one of the few whod managed to survive and thrive during the rough times, and hed done it by diversifying. By the time he passed away, Harlan owned a bit of everything.

Taking in the elegant architecture of the whiter-than-white building, large columns, polished brass fixtures, and well-kept porch, Jackson couldnt help remembering the shabby house where hed lived as a child. The tin roof had leaked, the floors were warped, and it was a wonder the faulty wiring hadnt caused a fire. The hot water system was busted more often than it was working, so cold showers were the norm. He fought a twinge of feeling out of place. For a sliver of a moment, he was thirteen again, without a degree in accounting, wearing hand-me-down torn jeans from the local Goodwill store instead of the Brooks Brothers suit hed bought on sale.

He didnt belong here.

Jackson thought of Lori Jean Granger. She probably didnt know what a cold shower was, and he was certain her home had always been warm when it was cold outside and cool when the summertime heat hit.

She also, however, hadnt learned to manage her pocketbook, and by the looks of her accounts, he was going to have to teach her. It had taken some persistence, but hed finally cracked Hollingsworth. Now he knew why no one else wanted this account. And he was still shaking his head over it. Hed imagined every possibility but the one Hollingsworth finally coughed up. As hed begun to suspect, the woman scared them. Not, however, because she was a raging bitch, but because she was this sweet, helpless woman that men just couldnt say no to-like she had some mystical power over them or something. Jackson rolled his eyes. A Lorelei of accountants, with the ability to sink their careers into the bottom of the ocean. By the looks of her accounts, Till had rarely said no. Jackson snorted. Well, Till had been a fool. Jackson wasnt and he would have no problem saying NO to Lori Jean Granger.