She dropped into a chair. “Ten minutes, tops.”
“Take your time. Really.” He pulled up a seat, flipped it back toward her to straddle it, and rested his chin on the back. “I’ll sit here and watch. Nothing creepy.” This time he got a real laugh from her. Perfect.
“Not creepy at all.” She turned her attention back to the computer and the cordless phone next to it.
Despite the joke, Andrew didn’t know what to do with his time. He tripped his gaze around the room, glancing over a wall of leather-bound books he suspected no one had read in years, an antique-looking globe that was probably only a couple decades old, and a crystal brandy set. Cliché.
He turned back to Susan. Definitely the best view in the room. The way she chewed on her lip when she was focused—the twitches that flew across her face as she poured herself into the conversation… She had to be hurting inside, but it vanished when she dove into a call and started chatting.
She looked up as she disconnected, and pink spread across her cheeks. “I didn’t think you were actually going to stare.”
“The scenery is good.” He closed his eyes. “Better?”
“Sure. Why not,” she said. When he looked again, she was back on the phone, but glancing at him every few seconds. “Hi, this is Susan Rice. We talked last night.” Her tone went from playful to chipper and professional in a breath. “I’m sorry to bother you during your work day, but I wanted to get you my updated contact information and make sure the timing was still good for our appointment.” Her expression melted. “I see. May I ask why?” A scowl moved in, twisting her mouth and painting lines across her forehead. “No. I understand… Of course not. This is what you have to do. Thank you anyway for your time.”
Susan pressed a button on the phone, then set it on the desk. She took a deep breath. “God-damn-asshole-fucking-son-of-a-bitch-bastard. Fuck.” She dropped her head into her hands.
“That good, huh?” He didn’t have anything better. Not after an outburst like that.
Her shoulders shook, and she rubbed her face several times before looking up. “Grace got a call from my father’s charitable foundation this morning. They’re reevaluating how to best spend their donations next year, and… My freaking dad.”
Andrew knew how the thought ended. Whatever conversation transpired between this Grace and Dean Rice this morning made it clear that hiring Susan would impact those donations as they related to Ballet West. He had much stronger language for the situation than she’d used, and he regretted more that he didn’t stick around long enough last night to throw that punch.