Double Standards Read online

  "Is there anything else I could do in a corporation such as yours that would pay as well as being a secretary?" Lauren asked.

  "No," he said with quiet firmness. "Not until you get your business degree."

  Inwardly Lauren sighed, but she knew she had no choice. She had to make as much money as she possibly could.

  "Don't look so glum," he said, "the work won't be boring. Why, my own secretary knows more about our future plans than most of my executives do. Executive secretaries are privy to all sorts of highly confidential information. They're—"

  He broke off, staring at Lauren in stunned silence, and when he spoke again there was a triumphant, calculating quality in his voice. "Executive secretaries are privy to highly confidential information," he repeated, an unexplainable smile dawning across his aristocratic features. "A secretary!" he whispered. "They would never suspect a secretary! They wouldn't even run a security check on one. Lauren," he said softly, his brown eyes gleaming like topaz, "I am about to make you a very unusual offer. Please don't argue about it until you hear me out completely. Now, what do you know about corporate or industrial spying?"

  Lauren had the queasy feeling that she was hanging over the edge of a dangerous precipice. "Enough to know that people have been sent to prison for it, and that I want absolutely nothing to do with it, Mr. Whitworth."

  "Of course you don't," Philip said smoothly. "And please call me Philip; after all, we are related, and I've been calling you Lauren."

  Uneasily, Lauren nodded.

  "I'm not asking you to spy on another corporation, I'm asking you to spy on mine. Let me explain. In recent years, a company called Sinco has become our biggest competitor. Every time we bid on a contract, Sinco seems to know how much we're going to bid, and they bid just a fraction of a percent less. Somehow, they're finding out what we're putting into our sealed bids, then they cut the price of their bid so that it's slightly lower than ours and steal the contract from us.

  "It just happened again today. There are only six men here who could have told Sinco the amount of our bid, and one of them must be a spy. I don't want to dismiss five loyal business executives just to rid myself of one greedy, treacherous man. But if Sinco continues to steal business from us this way, I'm going to have to begin laying people off," he continued. "I employ twelve thousand people, Lauren. Twelve thousand people depend on Whitworth Enterprises for their livelihoods. Twelve thousand families depend on this corporation so that they can have roofs over their heads and food on their tables. There's a chance you could help them keep their jobs and their homes. All I'm asking you to do is to apply for a secretarial position at Sinco today. God knows they'll need to increase their staff to handle the work they just stole from us. With your skills and experience, they'd probably consider you for a secretarial position with some high-level executive."

  Against her better judgment, Lauren asked, "If I get the job, then what?"

  "Then I'll give you the names of the six men who might possibly be the spy, and all you have to do is listen for mention of their names by anyone at Sinco."

  He leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on his desk. "It's a long shot, Lauren, but frankly, I'm desperate enough to try anything. Now, here's my part of the bargain: I was planning to offer you a secretarial position with us at a very attractive salary…"

  The figure he named amazed Lauren, and it showed. It was considerably more than her father had been making as a teacher. Why, if she lived frugally she could support her family and herself.

  "I can see that you're pleased," Philip chuckled. "Wages in big cities like Detroit are very high compared to smaller places. Now, if you apply at Sinco this afternoon and they offer you a secretarial position, I want you to take it. If the salary there is lower than the one I just offered you, my company will write you a monthly check to make up the difference. If you are able to learn the name of our spy, or anything else of real value to me, I will pay you a bonus of $10,000. Six months from now, if you haven't been able to learn anything important, then you can resign from your job at Sinco and come to work as a secretary for us. As soon as you complete the courses for your business degree, I'll give you any other position here you want, providing of course that you can handle it." His brown eyes moved over her face, searching her troubled features. "Something is bothering you," he observed quietly. "What is it?"

  "It all bothers me," Lauren admitted. "I don't like intrigue, Mr. Whitworth."

  "Please call me Philip. At least do that much for me." With a tired sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "Lauren, I know I have absolutely no right to ask you to apply at Sinco. It may surprise you to learn that I'm aware of how unpleasant your visit with us fourteen years ago was. My son, Carter, was at a difficult age. My mother was obsessed with researching our family tree, and my wife and I… well, I'm sorry we weren't more cordial."

  Under normal circumstances, Lauren would have turned him down. But her life was in a state of complete upheaval, and her financial responsibilities were staggering. She felt dazed, uncertain and incredibly burdened. "All right," she said slowly. "I'll do it."

  "Good," Philip said promptly. Picking up his telephone he called Sinco's number, asked for the personnel manager, then handed Lauren the phone to make an appointment. Lauren's secret hope that Sinco might refuse to see her was instantly dashed. According to the man she spoke to, Sinco had just been awarded a large contract and was in immediate need of experienced secretaries. Since he was planning to work late that night, he instructed Lauren to come at once.

  Afterward Philip stood up and put out his hand, clasping hers. "Thank you," he said simply. After a moment's thought, he added, "When you fill out their application form, give your home address in Missouri, but give them this phone number so that they can reach you at our house." He wrote a number on a note pad and tore off the sheet. "The servants answer it with a simple hello," he explained.

  "No," Lauren said quickly. "I wouldn't want to impose. I… I'd much rather stay in a motel."

  "I don't blame you for feeling that way," he replied, making Lauren feel rude and ungracious, "but I would like to make up for that other visit."

  Lauren succumbed to defeat. "Are you absolutely certain that Mrs. Whitworth won't object?"

  "Carol will be delighted."

  When the door closed behind Lauren, Philip Whitworth picked up his telephone and dialed a number that rang in his son's private office, just across the hall. "Carter," he said. "I think we're about to drive a spike into Nick Sinclair's armor. Do you remember Lauren Danner… ?"

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  By the time Lauren arrived at Sinco's personnel office it was after five o'clock, and she had come to the conclusion that she couldn't possibly spy for Philip Whitworth. Just thinking of it on the way had made her heart pound and her palms perspire on the steering wheel. Even though she would like to help Philip, the intrigue and deception that would be involved petrified her. Still, she hated to admit her cowardice to him.

  While she filled out the endless forms and questionnaires required by Sinco, it occurred to her that the best way out of her predicament was to honor her promise to Philip by applying for a job—and then make absolutely certain that she wasn't offered one. Accordingly, she deliberately failed her spelling, typing and shorthand tests and omitted any mention of her college degree. But her crowning achievement was the way she answered the last question on her employment application. The instructions said to list in the order of preference three positions she felt she was qualified to fill at Sinco. Lauren had written "president" for her first choice, "personnel manager" for her second, and "secretary" for her third.

  The real personnel manager, Mr. Weatherby, graded her tests, and his face registered horror as he did so. He put them aside and picked up her application, and she watched his gaze glide to the bottom of the last page, where she had listed, among her three choices, Mr. Weatherby's own job. When he read that his face suffused with angry color and his nostrils f