Never Forgotten: Second Chances by Alana Hart, Marlena Dark Page A

a lot on personal contact. If they like you, they tend to want to do business, and that can offset other things." She licked her lips. "I could help wine and dine them and convince them of what a great deal this would be."
    Now that sounded more like a Lenora idea, using her sexual appeal to get what she wanted. Well, people used whatever assets they had to reach their goals, and Lenora definitely appealed to men. "I'll have to think about it. I have a big meeting this afternoon, and I'll have to get back to you."
    As Lenora stood up to leave Megan reached for her coffee cup. The coffee was cold. Megan hated cold coffee. Now she'd need to make another cup to drink while she restarted her morning and planned her day. Not that planning was necessary. She'd spend the morning going down her prospect list, making calls and arranging meetings. She didn't look forward to any of it, but every call created new possibilities. After all, you had to ask for the sale if you expected to get it. Then, after lunch, she had to meet Riley.
    * * * *
    After a day of painful rejections and the even more agonizing hell of unreturned calls that often characterizes a day of cold calling, after dealing with Lenora's grasping ploy, meeting Riley Carson in his office seemed like some monumental achievement.
    She tried to keep her expectations in check. Even though she was meeting with a real player, the first meeting was likely to produce nothing more than setting a baseline for something to happen. The two of them dancing around each other, like birds in a courtship ritual as they discovered if they would or could even do business together. If they found a common ground, then they'd agree to see what was possible. Investment might be based on analysis, but it was foolhardy to ignore the human element. Who the major players were and how they operated was an important factor. Carson had all the numbers, all the data about the company he could ever need. Now, he wanted to see a face, make human contact. She had Thom's recommendation, which was golden, but she wanted to see his face and take her own measure of the man before she put her trust in him. She needed to hear what he thought he could do for them. If anything.
    One of the best. Thom had called him that, and it had set expectations in her head. He surprised her from the first, starting with his office. She couldn't say exactly what she expected, but assumed it would be a beehive of activity. There should be dozens of junior executives in cubicles working telephones like some high-end boiler room call center. What she saw made her think of an old time law office. The first impression was of a cramped reception area where an ancient secretary stood guard and glared at her with suspicion from behind a plaque that said her name was Ivy.
    Feeling oddly compelled to justify her existence to this secretary, who reminded her of a third-grade teacher, Megan walked up to her. "I'm Megan Cross. I have an appointment." She half expected the woman to demand to see photo id. Instead, she stood, nodded and silently escorted her through a mahogany paneled door into a spacious office that came straight out of a London men's club where Riley Carson sat behind a giant and clean wooden desk. Riley himself was a stocky man in a perfectly tailored suit that showed he was fit. She guessed him to be around forty. She would call him handsome but in a rugged way.
    She definitely liked the cut of him, and when she sat on his leather couch and crossed her legs, she noted a flicker of interest. That spark pleased her, activating a small trembler running through her. He welcomed her with enthusiasm, and she found the sound of his voice, that rich, masculine baritone, even more pleasant in person than over the phone. They sat facing each other in soft leather chairs with a coffee table between them, exchanging pleasantries while the secretary made coffee and brought it to them and then, assured that the amenities were taken care