Atherton paused before cautiously concurring. “Yes.”
“Damn!” She pounded the arms of the chair and slumped back into the deep cushions, overcome by dejection. Atherton allowed her a few moments of introspection. Her thoughts were so tumultuous that she wasn't even aware of him until he cleared his throat softly.
“In light of what I've told you, do you think you'd reconsider Mr. Bennett's request that you handle the Seascape account?”
Her chin rose defiantly. “What is so all-fired important about that account? He doesn't need it. He's mentioned in the newspaper every day for having given money to this charity or another, attending this benefit or another. Why should he care so much about this one account?”
“Because he's a professional,” Atherton shot back. “He doesn't let personal feelings stand in the way of sound business conduct.”
“And I suppose you think I do,” she said heatedly.
“Yes, I do!” he shouted. “Where he's concerned, yes. For the first time I'm disappointed in you. You're not approaching this in a professional manner.”
That hurt. Because it was the truth, it hurt all the more. She tried to stare down Atherton and couldn't. When she lowered her eyes, he said briskly, “Can I tell him that you've consented to having dinner with him and Bishop tonight? Ms. Hampson has been asked to go too.”
Dinner. With him. With Josh Bennett. She had no choice, and she knew it. Without laying it on the line, Atherton, as her superior, was telling her she must put her personal feelings aside for the sake of her career.
She stood up with straight shoulders and a tense rigidity to her mouth. “Very well.”
“Good,” Atherton said curtly, rummaging for something on his desk. “Here, he left this for you.” He extended to her a cream-colored business card with the hateful name embossed on it. “I'll expect a report tomorrow morning.”
“You'll have it.”
When she reached the door, he stopped her. “Megan, this account wouldn't make or break Bennett. He's already proven himself. Maintaining the reputation of his company as the best is what motivates him. To him it's all a game, and money is only the means with which to keep score. But the Seascape commercials will mean a tremendous amount of money to us. I know you'll do a good job of keeping everyone happy.”
“That's right. I will,” she said archly, and proudly exited the office.
The personal, singular J at the end of the terse message galled her the most. Lying in bed, trying to relax after battling Atlanta's afternoon rush-hour traffic, she read the writing on the back of the business card for the hundredth time. “A car will pick you up at seven-thirty. J.”
“Well, I might not want one of your damn cars to pick me up at seven-thirty, Mr. Bennett,” she said aloud. But the car would arrive on time, and she knew she'd be ready. Like it or not, she had been coerced into cooperating with Josh.
After her meeting with Doug Atherton, she had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to sort out what he had divulged. She had never entertained a thought that Josh could have manipulated her life. Why had he gone to all that trouble on her behalf? Was he only trying to relieve his conscience over James's untimely death, to absolve himself of blame? That must be it. But to think she owed her success to him …
No! she decided, jumping from the bed and entering the bathroom for a quick shower. He might have been responsible for getting her the job in the first place, but she'd made a success of it on her own. He'd had nothing to do with that. He hadn't been there to advise her on business decisions.
Still, how was she going to face him, knowing that she owed him so much? Were it not for him and the clout he wielded, she could be struggling to live on James's inadequate insurance and the meager salary she would have earned at a small, insignificant radio station. Instead she was sales manager of a reputable television station in one of the country's major television markets. Few women could boast that. Few men could.
She would face him with pride and cool disdain, she decided as she stepped into the dress she'd selected for the evening. She was going first class, just as she knew Josh would. The dress was starkly simple. Her petite figure would have been smothered by ruffles, big sleeves, or full skirts. She'd chosen all of her clothes with those limitations in mind.
Now, eyeing herself in the mirror, she knew that this dress was one of her best. The silk was a shade too soft to be pure white. The collar dipped down to a deep V that was connected to the wide self-belt at her waist by a trail of tiny rhinestone buttons. The hem of the trim skirt brushed her legs just below the knee. Her shapely calves were shown off by high-heeled, strappy sandals.
A curling iron had restored the waves falling freely on either side of her face. She placed small diamond studs in her ears and was ready. Since the dress was sleeveless, she selected a lacy shawl, and a satin evening bag. No sooner had she misted herself with a flowery perfume than her doorbell rang.
A uniformed chauffeur was standing on the threshold. “Mrs. Lamb
ert?”
“Yes.”
She stepped out, closed and locked the door behind her, and let the stately man escort her to the sleek black limousine. As soon as he'd been assured of her comfort in the posh backseat, he concentrated on his driving, leaving Megan to her own thoughts. Her dread of the coming hours so consumed her thoughts that she was surprised when the limousine cruised to a stop under the awning of one of Atlanta's finest restaurants.
When the chauffeur opened her door, the first person she saw was Jo Hampson, who waved gaily and rushed over to her. “Hi. I was glad to hear you were coming tonight. I was afraid either Mr. Bishop or Mr. Bennett would ask me something I couldn't answer.”
“You could have handled it,” Megan assured her.
“Thanks for the compliment, but just the same, I'm glad to have you here, boss.”
They laughed easily together as the doorman ushered them inside. Dressed in pink taffeta, her blond hair a tumble of curls and her face wreathed in a guileless smile, Jo Hampson looked like a frothy strawberry confection. Next to her, Megan felt elegant and sophisticated.