would be fair and ask only what was reasonable under the circumstances, but it amused her to imagine Bram’s stunned reaction when she threw out a highly inflated figure. He’d pay it anyway, she admitted to herself. Damn him, he could afford to, and they both knew it.
She rode the elevator up to the third floor and stepped from it into an atmosphere of hushed luxury. Deep eggshell carpeting silenced her footsteps as she walked to the reception desk, and the walls, covered with cream grass cloth and edged with mahogany wainscoting, held photographs and certificates attesting to Joshua’s standing in the community. An immaculately dressed and coiffed secretary looked up at Beth’s approach.
“I’m Attorney Forsyth,” Beth said to the woman. “I called yesterday and made an appointment to see Mr. Curtis at three today.”
“Mr. Curtis is ill at home,” the woman said smoothly. “There must be some mistake. I can arrange for you to see Miss Wyler, Mr. Curtis’ s administrative assistant, but I’m afraid...”
“Mr. Abraham Curtis,” Beth interrupted her. “I confirmed the time with him myself.” During a very brief conversation, Beth added silently. Bram had hung up as if the phone were on fire in his hand.
The secretary, who looked about thirty and had doubtless intimidated many who’d tried to breach the Curtis defenses with her cool, blonde beauty and sophisticated air, arched a thin eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware Mr. Abraham was seeing anyone today.”
Mr. Abraham, Beth thought in amazement. Had she suddenly entered a time warp and emerged on an antebellum plantation? She glanced at the nameplate on the desk and tried again.
“Miss Langley, I assure you that I’m not some panhandler who has decided to pass herself off as a lawyer. If you will just be kind enough to ring Mr. Curtis, I’m certain he’ll clear this up for you.”
“That won’t be necessary, Gloria,” Bram announced as he emerged from the elevator that had brought Beth. “I’ll take Miss Forsyth to my office.” He smiled at Gloria, who retreated visibly, like a guard dog responding to an order to heel.
Beth turned and met his eyes. He glanced at her neutrally and gestured for her to come with him.
Beth looked back at Gloria and caught an instant of naked hostility in the secretary’s expression before she donned a carefully smooth mask of efficiency and went back to her typing. Beth’s eyes flashed to Bram, but if he had caught the exchange between the two women he gave no sign.
Beth followed him to a door at the end of the hall. It led to an office paneled in oak and furnished with exquisite antique pieces. It was obviously Bram’s father’s domain, and Beth waited uncomfortably while Bram went to a filing cabinet and extracted a leather binder from a drawer.
“Have a seat,” he said casually, and Beth sat stiffly in a chair that faced the large table desk. It was set in a niche in front of a bay window overlooking the city. Bram walked to the swivel chair behind the desk and dropped into it, crossing one leg over the other knee. He tossed the binder onto the desk between them, as if it were a bone of contention.
“There you go,” he said, a subtle challenge in his tone. “Have a ball.”
Beth picked it up and put it in her briefcase. “I’ll look these over tonight and call you in the morning. Is there anything I should know before I get started on them?”
Bram examined her with eyes the color of a dark French brandy. He was wearing a navy crew neck sweater with jeans and tennis shoes, and looked more like a spectator at a lacrosse match than the top executive in a tobacco empire.
“The first contract is rather complicated,” he said, opening an envelope on his desk. “I have my copy here. Do you want to go over it?”
Beth nodded, and they spent about an hour comparing ideas on the work Beth had to do. She was impressed with Bram’s grasp of the business; she knew he’d been back only a short time and
She rode the elevator up to the third floor and stepped from it into an atmosphere of hushed luxury. Deep eggshell carpeting silenced her footsteps as she walked to the reception desk, and the walls, covered with cream grass cloth and edged with mahogany wainscoting, held photographs and certificates attesting to Joshua’s standing in the community. An immaculately dressed and coiffed secretary looked up at Beth’s approach.
“I’m Attorney Forsyth,” Beth said to the woman. “I called yesterday and made an appointment to see Mr. Curtis at three today.”
“Mr. Curtis is ill at home,” the woman said smoothly. “There must be some mistake. I can arrange for you to see Miss Wyler, Mr. Curtis’ s administrative assistant, but I’m afraid...”
“Mr. Abraham Curtis,” Beth interrupted her. “I confirmed the time with him myself.” During a very brief conversation, Beth added silently. Bram had hung up as if the phone were on fire in his hand.
The secretary, who looked about thirty and had doubtless intimidated many who’d tried to breach the Curtis defenses with her cool, blonde beauty and sophisticated air, arched a thin eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware Mr. Abraham was seeing anyone today.”
Mr. Abraham, Beth thought in amazement. Had she suddenly entered a time warp and emerged on an antebellum plantation? She glanced at the nameplate on the desk and tried again.
“Miss Langley, I assure you that I’m not some panhandler who has decided to pass herself off as a lawyer. If you will just be kind enough to ring Mr. Curtis, I’m certain he’ll clear this up for you.”
“That won’t be necessary, Gloria,” Bram announced as he emerged from the elevator that had brought Beth. “I’ll take Miss Forsyth to my office.” He smiled at Gloria, who retreated visibly, like a guard dog responding to an order to heel.
Beth turned and met his eyes. He glanced at her neutrally and gestured for her to come with him.
Beth looked back at Gloria and caught an instant of naked hostility in the secretary’s expression before she donned a carefully smooth mask of efficiency and went back to her typing. Beth’s eyes flashed to Bram, but if he had caught the exchange between the two women he gave no sign.
Beth followed him to a door at the end of the hall. It led to an office paneled in oak and furnished with exquisite antique pieces. It was obviously Bram’s father’s domain, and Beth waited uncomfortably while Bram went to a filing cabinet and extracted a leather binder from a drawer.
“Have a seat,” he said casually, and Beth sat stiffly in a chair that faced the large table desk. It was set in a niche in front of a bay window overlooking the city. Bram walked to the swivel chair behind the desk and dropped into it, crossing one leg over the other knee. He tossed the binder onto the desk between them, as if it were a bone of contention.
“There you go,” he said, a subtle challenge in his tone. “Have a ball.”
Beth picked it up and put it in her briefcase. “I’ll look these over tonight and call you in the morning. Is there anything I should know before I get started on them?”
Bram examined her with eyes the color of a dark French brandy. He was wearing a navy crew neck sweater with jeans and tennis shoes, and looked more like a spectator at a lacrosse match than the top executive in a tobacco empire.
“The first contract is rather complicated,” he said, opening an envelope on his desk. “I have my copy here. Do you want to go over it?”
Beth nodded, and they spent about an hour comparing ideas on the work Beth had to do. She was impressed with Bram’s grasp of the business; she knew he’d been back only a short time and
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