A Trial of One, the third in The Osgoode Trilogy.

Chapter 2

You are about to meet the dangerously charming Dr. Robert Hawke and his [very] personal assistant Mrs. Veronica Deal. Dr. Hawke is a man of many interests including those missing shares, Harry and a cure for Alzheimer's. With Hawke, it's essential to keep your eye on the ball.

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Dr. Robert Hawke sank into his bath at the King Edward Hotel. Although briefly amused by the pulsating jets of water, he soon turned them off to concentrate on the problems at hand.

Mildly annoyed, he called out, “Ronnie!” His voice rebounded within the confines of the huge tub. Gently swirling the mountains of suds about, he waited. No answer. Where can that woman be?

“Mrs. Deal?” he called, in a more formal tone.

The door opened, and a dark-haired woman looked in.

“What took you so long?” the doctor asked peevishly. “I waited, and then I had to run the bath myself.”

“Surely you want privacy, Robert.” Veronica Deal said from around the half-open door. She was a mature and highly capable personal assistant who anticipated the needs and catered to the whims of her employer. However, running baths for the able-bodied hardly seemed appropriate. Entering the bathroom, she studied herself in the mirror.

Hawke sat up straighter in the tub. Veronica averted her eyes.

“I was waiting for your report. Have you got a lead on Norma Dinnick?”

Veronica tensed. Her employer could become enraged, like a caged panther at the smell blood. “Not too much, yet. But Garth is—”

“You’re leaving this important matter to your brother, Garth?”

“He was at her apartment building this morning. It’s vacant and there’s a “for sale” sign on the lawn.”

As Hawke sank further into the tub, his flaccid jowls bobbed above the soapsuds. She avoided his penetrating blue eyes. She knew her attraction, which, although definitely not sexual, was completely ridiculous. The man was physically repulsive, yet even naked in his bath, power radiated from him. Some force—it was not love or desire—drew her inexorably to his very core. His scientific work was supremely important. Hope for a cure for Alzheimer’s disease rested upon his clinical trials. Sometimes, she felt like a deer frozen in the headlights.

Hawke swirled the washcloth in the water above his chest and spoke mildly. “Perhaps Garth should start looking for her in nursing homes.”

“He already has, Robert.”

“Good! Then, while you’re at it, you might call the real estate office and find out if a lawyer is handling the sale.”

“Already done.”

Hawke blew a handful of suds in the air. “Ah, very good, Mrs. Deal. And who might he be?”

“Harold Jenkins. He’s on the listing agreement as her legal guardian.”

“Aha! Excellent. Full marks!” He smiled up at her. “Hand me the soap, will you?”

Veronica grimaced. “Where is it?”

“Somewhere in the tub, near my foot.”

Pulling up her sleeve, she dove her hand into the water. “Actually, Garth is very good at tracking people down.”

Hawke smiled slyly. “Loyalty is a fine trait, my dear. Your brother needs all the encouragement he can get.” Paddling his fingers on the surface of the water, he continued, “By the way, Ronnie, was there any trouble at the Dinnick house?”