Chapter One

“I don’t understand,” she said for perhaps the fifth time.

Jeremy sighed. “It’s very simple. Your house is a mess.”

Judith couldn’t argue with that. As she looked around in hopes of making some excuse, she saw dirty dishes piled on the counter, stacks of unsorted papers on the table, and she knew that the other rooms were even worse. Mercifully, he hadn’t gone into her bedroom where piles of dirty laundry banked up in the corners.

“Judging by the mail piled up on the counter, I suspect your bills aren’t up to date.”

Bingo again.

“And your work is slipping. That’s what brought me here, of course, but now that I see the condition of your house I can understand why you can’t focus.”

There was some truth to that as well. She was glad he didn’t know that underneath those unpaid bills were unopened envelopes from clients with information she should be reading every day.

“I know you’ve been having some problems,” he continued, “but I can’t have my clients suffering because of them.”

“I know,” she began, a rush of glib assurances at the tip of her tongue. “I’m going to get organized today, and I’ll contact…”

“It’s not that simple,” he cut in.

She barely dared ask what he meant. Was he going to FIRE her? She’d never find another job like this, working from home, setting her own hours, making significant money working only part-time. Well, barely working at all, if she were honest about it.

“If I’m going to keep you on, your work is going to be closely monitored.”

“I see. Of course,” she said, feigning humility. Her work was the best, when she did it. If she just kicked it into high gear for a few days, she’d dazzle him right back into believing that she could do anything, and then she’d get a little slack again.

“You might not want to agree so quickly,” he suggested. “The terms are pretty strict.”

And subject to change as soon as you start getting positive reviews from my clients again. Whatever.

“Like?”

“Like you clean your house.”

She stepped backward. “What in the hell business is that of yours?”

“Maybe none,” he conceded, “but it’s one of my conditions. I happen to believe that it’s hard to work productively amid chaos, so as of today, a clean, organized workspace is a job requirement.”

“Okay. What else?”

“You submit a report to me by fax at the end of every day accounting for your time.”

A pain in the ass, perhaps, but not so unrea