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fires of her success. Pain kept her working on other people's problems instead of facing up to her own. Grayson leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. Ms Amber Shaw was definitely the most interesting case in years to walk through the doors of Barlow & Charles. Perhaps things were working out just fine after all.
    But inside a little voice snickered, reminding him instantly of Roger. Roger, who was so blind to his own faults, yet remarkably attuned to other peoples.
    And what fans your fire, Grayson?
    He shut his brother's voice firmly out of his mind. Getting up, he softly closed the door. Amber Shaw was here to help him get his work done, he reminded himself, not to keep him from it. Grayson reached for the phone.

Fair Game Inc (2010)

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    Her pity for the loss of his secretary vanished as soon as she glanced at piles of files awaiting her undivided attention. He was smooth, she grudgingly admitted. Mr. Grayson Charles missed his calling. He should have been an actor. She'd bet even the tousled hair and wrinkled shirt had been part of the disguise. He could certainly dress himself for court. She yanked open the file cabinet. Like dominoes set in motion, files tumbled out, landing in a heap of scattered paper at her feet.
    Oh he was good all right, she thought, gathering up the files into yet another pile. He used just the right amount of humor, the faintest touch of a smile, the see, I'm a good guy, you can trust me routine. She knew how it went. She used it herself. She just hadn't realized she was vulnerable to it.
    Stated his case, he had. The defense rested. Lulled into a false sense of security, she told him more than she ever intended. Not intentionally. Of course not. Just as he planned.
    Never again. Amber kicked off her shoes and sat down on the carpeted floor to start organizing the files into some kind of order.
    Vulnerability lurked behind every need. So what need kept her vulnerable to Grayson's charms?
    Later, she promised herself, out of range of Grayson's influence, she'd think about that one.
    It was obvious there had once been an order to the multitude of files littering the reception area. Each color-coded folder had its own laser printed label. But in the weeks since NicoleAEs departure, titles had been crossed out in ball-point pen and others scrawled in a barely legible hand. Grayson's she deduced. The obsessively neat John Barlow, if his office was any indication, would never have used tools as crude as ball-point. But the color coding that had likely made perfect sense to the departed Nicole made no sense at all to Amber. She found matching folders in the main cabinet neatly arranged in alphabetical order to match the files coded yellow and blue. But there were no corresponding hanging folders for those with red and black labels. She wandered down the hall to Grayson's office, but inside she could hear the low murmur of a telephone conversation in progress. Deciding not to disturb him, she strolled back down the hall toward Barlow's office.
    The door shut quietly behind her. Amber hit the light switch and looked around the immaculate office. His oak filing cabinet was locked. Walking softly over to the matching desk, she tried the top drawer again. A quick search yielded a ring of tiny keys. Amber chuckled to herself. What possessed people to lock things up and then leave the keys within easy reach she'd never know.
    Metal connected with metal. The lock popped open. Sure enough, the cabinet contained several rows of files with red and black labels. Amber looked down at the folders in her hand. Red and black. Those colors should mean something to her.
    Opening the door quietly, she peered down the hall. Light shone in a thin band beneath Grayson's closed door. Straining to hear, she could make out deep timbre of his voice. She closed the door again and crept back to Barlow's filing cabinet.
    In the red or in the black. Financial statements? She flipped open one of the files.