annoyance grew. She softened her eyes and leaned forward. “I’m considered one of the best crisis communications experts on the West Coast. I have excellent references.”
He tilted his chin.
She tilted hers higher. “I’m here. Why not hear me out? It will cost you nothing but fifteen minutes of your time.”
****
Zeke twirled the pen between his fingers, his jaw clamped hard against the accusations threatening to burst forth. He gave Dena a tight-lipped glance, and then pushed back in the chair and stood. With both hands shoved in his pockets, he stared out the window.
He’d taken the woman’s call this morning and assumed she’d been a secretary. He’d gone to the PR firm’s website, seen the list of agents and liked what he’d read, and confirmed an appointment with a woman named Wendy. Could he be losing his professional grip in this god forsaken place? He hadn’t asked enough damn questions.
Had Dena known he’d asked for a male agent, or did the secretary not explain his needs? He didn’t want to talk about the murders with a woman, any woman, but especially not with one so young and attractive. When exactly had he decided she was attractive? He blew out a gust of air and turned around.
“I’m not promising anything,” he said, and sat down, annoyed at the sudden shimmer in her blue eyes. He’d had enough dealings with sophisticated women like her. Absolutely no way would he fall for her charms. “You’ve got your fifteen minutes.”
“We could hear the whole thing.” Rocky shifted in his seat. “I’ve put a couple of guys out in the field in my place—”
“Fifteen minutes.” He shot Rocky a dark look. On this subject, he was the boss.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with the contract.”
The cheerful tone in Dena’s voice irked him. He preferred to conduct business with a serious tone. If this were a court case, and he the defense counsel, he could be detached, weigh all the pros and cons, but even then he’d be serious.
“Fine.”
“I’d suggest a six month retainer,” Dena said. “If you’ve finished, maybe Rocky should look over the—”
“Standard contract,” Zeke said, and passed it to Rocky. Dena straightened. She handed him a glossy brochure and an equally glossy smile. He didn’t smile back, knowing he’d have to shoot a hole right through that slick confidence of hers. No way in hell would he hire Ms. Roman.
“Read over these. There’s mention of the mission statement—” she stopped suddenly, and her face colored.
He’d interrogated enough people to know when someone lied, well, most of the time. He squinted, put the brochures down. What could the chatty little lady be hiding?
“I’ll read them later,” he said, and settled back in his chair, hands behind his head, fingers intertwined. He had the upper hand. “Tell me a little about the firm from your experience.”
“Brennan & Associates is—”
“Not the slick PR crap. Tell me about the real firm. Why did you choose to work for them? How do they treat you?”
She took a deep breath and smoothed her sleek blonde hairdo. She would fight for this job, he could see that.
“I started as an intern, right out of college—”
“Which was?”
“Pepperdine.”
“Good school.”
She smiled a natural, almost shy smile, not that fake PR one. She lit up from within and transformed her rather long face. It took her from attractive to beautiful in a second. He lowered his eyes and focused on the blotter.
“Ours isn’t your typical Los Angeles firm that deals primarily with the entertainment industry,” she said. “I’m the only one who handles celebrities.”
“What?” His head shot up. Her gaze floated away then dropped. She’d probably recalled that he’d asked for a conservative agent, as well as a male. The last thing he needed was some Hollywood type let loose on the estate.
“I also handle business and corporate clients,” Dena said, her voice clear, her speech precise. “I can furnish references.”
He shifted in his chair. He liked her quick composure. He’d hear her out.
“Seems in order,” Rocky said. He handed Dena the contract.
She put it beside her presentation papers, placed a gold pen on top, and looked across the desk. Her steely determination made her eyes colder. In that moment, Zeke knew, if he did hire her, his life would never be the same.
“The plan I’ve developed is two-fold,” she said. “One is for the national and international aspect, the packing and shipping. The other is local, your community image—”
“I don’t get involved with the community,” Zeke said, aware that he sounded surly. He’d