CHAPTER 1

Sue Ellen Carson was on a roll.

She loved her job as chief of the Department of Labor's Employment and Training Administration office in Pensacola, Florida. Her lawyer had finally convinced a judge to kill the alimony she'd had to pay the jerk she'd married on the rebound. Just last year she'd talked her very best friend into moving to the Florida Panhandle, then got to watch Andi and her former husband strike red-hot sparks off each other before tumbling back into love.

And, as frosting on the cake, Sue Ellen had a studly young Adonis in her bed on a semiregular basis.

Life was good. Very good.

Until her intercom buzzed that fateful Friday afternoon.

Informed that her Atlanta-based boss was on the line, Sue Ellen punched the speaker button and kicked back in her executive desk chair.

"Hey, Evan," she said in her soft, peaches-and-cream drawl. She'd left her native Georgia decades ago, but the South never left the girl. "What's up?"

"My blood pressure, for one thing. I just got off the phone with Washington."

"Uh-oh. Congress isn't trying to cut the Job Corps budget again, are they?"

"They're always trying to cut the Job Corps budget."

Evan Greenberg was a good man and a good boss, who believed passionately in the Employment and Training Administration's charter of stimulating the U.S. labor market by providing high-quality job training, employment and information to employers and potential employees alike. Since ETA accomplished its mission primarily through state and local agencies, he arm-wrestled regularly with everyone from governors to owners of mom-and-pop, street-corner shops.

He was also a man of few words. As gruff as ever, Evan cut right to the purpose of his call. "Pack your bug spray, Sue Ellen. You're going to camp."

"Pardon me?"

"Three weeks of survival training. You start on Monday."

Her first thought was that he'd taken his concern for the health and physical fitness of ETA employees to new and ridiculous lengths. Her second, that he was getting back at her for the singing undertaker and bouquet of black balloons she'd sent for his fiftieth birthday.

"This is a joke, right?"

"Wrong. I told you, I just got off the phone with Washington. The order came right from the top."

"What order?"

"You. Camp. To evaluate Phase One of the disadvantaged-youth training program proposed by that Air Force guy in your region. What's his name?"

Understanding burst inside Sue Ellen's head like a Roman candle. Her jaws locked, then cracked just enough for her to grind out the name of the culprit.

"Chief Master Sergeant Joe Goodwin."

"Yeah, that's him. Evidently Goodwin has friends in high places. The director said she got the word directly from the White House. Since you're the one who nixed federal funding for his program, the powers-that-be think you should take another look at it, do an in-depth, hands-on review this time. That translates to three weeks at boot camp."

Digging in the spike heels she wore to add height to her petite, five-two frame, Sue Ellen pushed out of her chair. Her slim black skirt restricted her furious stride, but she couldn't take this sitting down.

Damn Goodwin! Where did he get off, going behind her back like this? Or pulling such powerful strings?

"I've got a slew of meetings scheduled over the next few weeks," she protested. "And a two-day apprenticeship conference to attend."

Not to mention the cocktail party her friend Andi was throwing for seventy-five local bigwigs. Recently elected mayor of the small town of Gulf Springs, Andi was making a splash in regional politics. Sue Ellen had already decided Andi's next stop was the Florida State House, then the governor's office.

"I can't just drop everything to roast rattlesnake over a campfire," she protested.

Even as she voiced them, she knew her objections were futile. As a career civil servant, she worked for the director of the Employment and Training Administration, who worked for the secretary of labor, who worked for the president.

She was going to camp.

Her boss understood the chain of command as well as she did. Refusing to argue or debate the matter, Evan merely instructed her to clear her schedule.

"Don't forget the bug spray," he added on a parting note. "You're going to need it."

Sue Ellen bit back the retort that sprang to her lips. She was too professional to let rip.

The professionalism hadn't come easy. She'd worked damned hard to get where she was. Joining the civil service as a lowly GS-2, she'd had to take whatever job she could get every time her first husband was transferred. After their divorce, she'd focused on her own career, landed a job with the Department of Labor and soon shot up through the ranks.

Over the years, success and increasing responsibilities had added a patina of sophistication to the down-home, country girl from Valdosta, Georgia. Moving in ever higher circles had also introduced her to the handsome, smooth-talking con artist who'd charmed her into a second marriage. Luckily, she'd dumped the bastard before his shady deals could damage her reputation or her career.

Now an executive with a multimillion-dollar operating budget and more than fifty employees under her direct supervision, Sue Ellen rarely, if ever, resorted to expletives. She had to swallow several particularly ripe ones, however, before stabbing the intercom button again and instructing her assistant to get Chief Master Sergeant Joe Goodwin on the line.

Alicia came back a few moments later with word that the chief was unavailable. "They said he's wearing a halo. I didn't quite understand the reference."

copyright © 2008 by Merline Lovelace