Page 9 of The Cowboy and the Bombshell
My brain wanted to say ‘Yes, Ma’am,” responding to her like the drill sergeant she seemed to be, but I managed to hold it in, instead giving her a solemn nod.
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and Moira hurried out into another lobby then past a reception desk and across an open space, stopping before a set of wide double doors. She turned to look at me, running her eyes over my messy hair, my naked face, and my stained shirt. She pursed her lips in judgment, but kept her thoughts to herself. Meeting my eyes one last time, she said “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” And with that ominous parting statement, she opened the doors and motioned me inside.
The rumble of voices halted as I stepped into the conference room. There was a large oblong table, surrounded by a dozen or so high-backed leather office chairs. Seated around the table were five men in suits and one women, who was impeccably dressed, her long black hair in a sleek and stylish low ponytail, her eyes narrowed, gazing at me like I was something unpleasant she had stepped in. Did everyone in this town throw dirty looks around like confetti?
I ducked my head, preparing to move to an empty seat, when a low chuckle from the front of the room drew my attention.
“Well, well, well. We meet again, Blondie.”
No. Impossible.
There is no way that this would be Mr. Montgomery.
Of all the rotten luck. Why would the universe curse me this way?
I froze mid step, and turned my head to look at the man standing at the front of the room next to the projector screen.
He had changed since the airport. Must be nice to have actually gotten your bags.
He now wore a tailored black suit with a smoke gray button down underneath, opened at the neck with no tie in sight. The cowboy hat and boots were gone, replaced with shiny shoes and a hair cut that looked like it cost more than my weekly grocery budget. He had shaved, as well, his strong square jaw now smooth and highlighting the natural tan of his skin. If I thought he was good looking before, this confirmed it. He was a god in either his suit or his jeans.
I kind of hated him for it.
I kept up hope that this was a mistake, that it wasn’t the jerk from the great coffee caper standing in this board room. There was no mistaking the hazel eyes, though, and they stared at me in malicious glee.
“Nice of you to join us. Miss Lund, is it? So pleased you could grace us with your presence. I hope we aren’t keeping you from anything important.” His comment drew quiet chuckles from around the table, the woman in particular smiling at me with a wicked gleam in her eyes. She reminded me of Constance, and I knew my dislike of her was growing thanks to that comparison. I glanced around the room, feeling my cheeks redden.
“No, Mr. Montgomery. Of course not.” I continued on and found a seat. “Just a little trouble at the airport,” I said, not wanting to go down without a fight. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” I met his glare with one of my own. He stared me down for a second longer before someone at the table cleared their throat. It was the woman with the cold eyes.
“If we could please continue,” she drawled, turning to face Mr. Montgomery, her face lighting like he was some sort of celebrity.
“Of course, Miss Carlisle, and my apologies for the rude interruption.” Montgomery drawled, making me think the cowboy thing was real, as his gentle accent definitely sounded like he came from the south somewhere. Miss Carlisle beamed at him, then looked around the table.
“As I was saying, I will be leaving for Japan next week. My time will be spent between Tokyo and Osaka, and then from there I will head to Beijing, then Hong Kong. Following that will be Moscow, Cairo, Dubai, and then on to London, and finally New York.” She smirked at me, clearly proud of her busy passport, inflating her self-importance. “I will be back one month before opening with confirmations from our whales.”
“Whales?” I asked, before I could think better of interrupting. Again.
Montgomery sighed. “Yes, Miss Lund. Whales. Did you not read your briefing package? A whale is a common term for a very wealthy hotel guest. They are our most lucrative and desirable visitors.”
“I did not receive a briefing package, Mr. Montgomery. Angelique only emailed me the travel documents and a point form project summary.”
He stared at me, dumbfounded. “So you have no idea what we are talking about? You literally do not know any information about this hotel or casino? What are you even doing here, Miss Lund, besides wasting our time?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but was saved when another man spoke up.
“I have extra packages right here, Mr. Montgomery. I would be happy to stay with Miss Lund and review all the pertinent information.” He practically bounced in his chair, eager as a puppy, and smiled at me. At least someone was happy I was here.
“Thank you, Mr. Reynolds. It’s nice to see at least some of my executive staff is both ambitious and prepared.” He leveled me with a pointed glare, letting me and everyone else in the room know that I was the only one who had shown up with nothing today. “Now, moving on.” And with that, Mr. Montgomery dismissed me completely, continuing with his discussion of the status of the food and beverage department.
Mr. Reynolds, who was seated directly across from me, discretely slid a shiny folder my way. Its thick pages were professionally coil bound and the glossy cover showed a digital rendering of the outside of the completed casino. My eyes widened and a laugh escaped my mouth before I could stop it.
Once again, all the attention was drawn to me.
With a dramatic sigh, Montgomery rolled his eyes, placed his hands on his hips, and growled, “What is it now, Miss Lund?”
I cleared my throat and schooled my features to what I hoped was a neutral expression.
“Nothing, sir. Please, continue.”
