“Those are the words Ms. Greene employed.” Aldrich seemed to shudder slightly at the inelegant phrasing.
“And Ms. Greene?”
“She still seems to be ‘trying’ in her own inimitable way, to conduct an interview with the man. Her success rate, however, is deplorable. A more seasoned reporter—”
Greyson cut the other man off. “A more seasoned reporter would be asking too many questions both of us and Taylor. No. Ms. Greene’s perfect for the job, in more ways than one.”
“If you’d inform me of her ‘unique qualifications,’ as I believe you called them, then I might feel more comfortable with her completing the job.”
Narrowing his eyes, Greyson slowly rose to his feet; the sound of his chair scraping against the floor was ominous. He leaned over the desk towards Aldrich, the solid oak creaking slightly as he rested his weight on his fingertips. It was a look and a stance that had turned many captains of industry into quivering idiots. Greyson knew the effect and used it indiscriminately. Intimidation was one of his favourite tools. “Your ‘comfort’ is of no concern to me, Leon. I will tell you what I wish to tell you, nothing more.”
To give the man his due, Aldrich didn’t flinch. His fingers tightened slightly on the arms of the chair and he blinked twice in rapid succession, but that was all.
Damn, but the man was good, Greyson acknowledged begrudgingly. Of course, if he hadn’t been good, the lawyer would never have made it this close to his inner circle.
Curving his lips into the barest semblance of a smile, Aldrich answered, his voice as calm and steady as ever. “But of course, sir. Foolish of me to forget that fact.”
Greyson slowly sank back into his chair and turned to face the picture again. “Foolish indeed, Leon. Foolish indeed.”
*****
Wednesday dawned with Mel’s feelings in a distinct muddle. She lay in bed, tired and sexually frustrated after a night of dreaming about a certain nude photographer prancing about her yard taking pictures of pink flamingos that were being chased by gnomes riding on black wolves. In between each photo shoot, he’d pull her close and kiss her senseless, only to walk away because she wasn’t a she-wolf.
When she wasn’t having weird dreams, Mel had been awake wondering what to do about the pictures on her computer. Having waffled back and forth last night, in the end she hadn’t looked at them, but still wasn’t sure that she eventually wouldn’t give into temptation. She supposed it all depended on how reticent Ryne proved to be during their interview. Mel knew she had to have something to report and the photos might be her only source of information, if Ryne continued to avoid talking to her.
Maybe she should be more forceful and demand he sit down and answer a few simple questions. Yet, even as she considered the idea, her gut told her Ryne didn’t respond to demands. He’d do whatever he wanted and if she pushed too much, he’d push back even harder. He’d only agreed to a very restricted interview because...well...she wasn’t exactly sure why. Possibly he’d been feeling benevolent towards her at the time? If that was the case, the status of today’s interview would be up in the air.
Ryne had been in a bit of a snit when he left last night. Would it carry over to today? Would he renege on their dinner altogether or just the subsequent question and answer session? Mel wasn’t sure and had no way of contacting him to find out. She supposed she’d just show up at The Broken Antler and see what happened.
Crawling out of bed, she turned on the coffee maker, and took a shower, washing herself with more vigour than necessary as her thoughts went back to Ryne. Damn, but the man confused her. One minute he was sarcastic, and the next he was all sex appeal and kisses, then sort of broody... It made her angry and frustrated since she never knew what to expect. She was also angry at herself for responding to him as she did. It wasn’t like she was some sex starved nymphomaniac...well, okay. She had been a bit sex-starved, but really, where was her self control? And besides that, she had a job to do which she wasn’t doing very well, as Aldrich had so kindly pointed out. But it was only because Ryne was being so difficult. Grabbing a towel, she exited the shower and dried off.
Running her hands through her hair, Mel wished she was the calm logical sort. Surely then she’d be able to figure this out. Inhaling deeply, she tried to push Ryne, Aldrich and the interview from her mind. There was nothing she could do about it right now so she should spend her time more profitably.
Focusing on her reflection in the mirror, she studied herself. There were shadows under her eyes and she used a bit of concealer to hide the effects of her sleepless night before dabbing on a touch of blush. Well, at least she wasn’t so pale now. Her hair, still damp from the shower, was a tangled mess. Grabbing a comb and hair drier, she tried to tame it into some semblance of order, with little success.