The discussion was a reminder that he’d been schooled early in distrust and cynicism by one of the biggest con artists on the planet. How else could his mother have been taken in by such a jerk? Besides, there were plenty of victims who could testify to Richard’s style in the business world. He was callous and utterly lacked a conscience.
“You’re correct, of course,” Simon acknowledged, hoping he sounded gracious. “As long as someone is selling a decent product, there is nothing dishonest in presenting it well.”
Emotions flitted across her face, too fleeting for him to read. “It sounds as if you’ve been burned by enough con artists that you look at everything with a jaundiced eye.”
“The man who fathered me was a con artist extraordinaire.”
Rachel regarded him with an intense focus. Was she congratulating herself on getting him to open up about his father again? If so, she was wrong. When it seemed appropriate, Simon deliberately made his opinion of Richard Kessler very clear. He didn’t approve of that kind of business practice, or want to be associated with someone who did.
“What was that look for?” he asked bluntly.
“I was thinking that it seems out of character for you to say something like that,” she replied. “Even though you mentioned your father earlier, that comment seems particularly harsh.”
“He casts a long shadow. I lay my cards on the table early so people know the score—I do business, but not his way.”
“I never had the impression you were dishonest or ruthless, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“At one time I was ruthless. That’s how my father trained me to be, though I’ve never cheated anyone, which I can’t say for him. But changing that aspect of myself doesn’t mean I put up with anything. If someone tries to pull garbage, they get taken out, from a business perspective, of course.”
“I see.” Rachel paused to sip her ice water. “You know, you mentioned doing research on me, but I haven’t had a chance to do any of my own on you.”
He found it hard to believe, though it was possible that she’d been too busy to check him out. His instincts said she was basically honest and he’d learned nothing to make him believe otherwise. But he also kept reminding himself that his judgment wasn’t a hundred percent at the moment. While he’d dated in New York, it had been mostly as a distraction. Since meeting Rachel, his awareness of women had reasserted itself with a vengeance...or at least his awareness of her had asserted itself.
Did that mean he was being disloyal to Olivia’s memory?
The thought bothered him. When she was sick, they’d mostly talked about their hopes for Livvie. He hadn’t been able to envision life without his wife, and would never have asked how she’d feel about him moving on, even casually.
“Do you regret not doing research on me?” he prompted when Rachel didn’t say anything else and appeared to be studying the fresh flowers on the table with undue fascination.
She lifted her amazing eyes to him; in the low light they appeared almost greenish blue.
“Yes. If I’d checked on you, I could have saved us both some time. Frankly, I think this may be a mistake. It was just such an interesting proposal for a talent agent to take a fashion house on as a client. I was intrigued.”
Simon gazed at the flowers himself as he sorted through what she was saying.
“Anyway,” Rachel continued, “you asked me to give your idea serious consideration, but I’m not sure it could work out. Your primary—”
Simon’s cell went off, interrupting whatever she’d started to say. It was the special ring he’d programmed for calls from the condo phone. “Sorry,” he muttered, taking it from his pocket. “Normally I’d let it go, but this is from home.”
* * *
“NOT A PROBLEM,” Rachel murmured as Simon answered.
Clearly the caller was his daughter and he talked with her for a while, explaining “the schedule” she was supposed to be following. Their dinner salads were delivered while the conversation went back and forth, with Livvie apparently trying to negotiate an additional hour of television to watch a program coming on after her regular bedtime.
Rachel was getting a strong impression that the seven-year-old led a regimented life. She knew kids needed routine, but how far should it go? Her own childhood routine had varied, subject to her parents’ catering jobs. At the same time they’d also been very strict, while her grandmother had loved indulging her grandchildren—the classic situation of “if Mom and Dad say no, ask Grandma.”
The corners of Rachel’s mouth twitched as she recalled the hot-fudge sundaes and movie fests she and her siblings had enjoyed as kids. They’d all turned out okay, and she remembered her childhood with fondness. Surely a little indulgence wasn’t the end of the world on a Friday night.
“What’s so amusing?”
The question startled her; she hadn’t noticed Simon getting off the phone.
“Just remembering something. Did you and Livvie come to a compromise?”
“My daughter may have finally figured out that I have a hard time saying no to her,” he admitted. “Yet my wife wasn’t a fan of television and I promised not to let Livvie watch too much. Now, about your agency being a consultant for the design house, can you tell me what your concerns are?”
It was a reasonable request. “I’m not sure that the ways we approach life and people are compatible.” That was the diplomatic way of saying he was too cynical for her comfort.
He frowned.
“Please don’t make a decision tonight. Remember that technically you wouldn’t be consulting for me. You’d be consulting for Livvie.”
Rachel wavered.
The way Simon had talked about his business dealings troubled her, yet she was already fond of Livvie, and a part of her wondered if she could genuinely offer something to Liv’ing Creations. Should she allow her mixed feelings about Simon to play a part in her decision?
Finally she squared her shoulders. “I’ll give it more thought and let you know.”
CHAPTER SIX
ON TUESDAY MORNING, Rachel glared at the computer screen after discovering Simon Kessler had made an appointment for later in the week.
She’d only had a few days to consider consulting for his late wife’s design shop and didn’t appreciate being pushed. Adam and Nicole were intrigued by the idea, but they were leaving the decision to her, perhaps realizing she was ambivalent about Simon.
Ambivalent?
Rachel almost snorted. Her research on the internet had shown Simon was an aggressive businessman. None of the articles she’d read suggested that he used underhanded tactics, but he was regarded warily, possibly because of his father. Richard Kessler’s reputation was appalling. He’d gone to court for every imaginable financial offense, and it was considered a miracle that he hadn’t landed in prison. Yet he was still wealthy and powerful. One interesting note was that he’d slid out of a few lawsuits supposedly through sheer charm alone.
A wry smile twisted her mouth. Plainly Simon hadn’t inherited his father’s charm. That was okay. She had trouble trusting people who were excessively charming—it made her wonder what they might be hiding, or if there was any depth behind the smiling face. In Simon’s case... She didn’t know what to think. He was like an injured grizzly bear, snarling and lashing out at the world.
The phone rang for the tenth time that morning, and Rachel answered to find one of her teenage modeling clients in an ebullient mood. “Please don’t think I was trying to eavesdrop,” Katie declared, “but I was getting coffee from the catering cart during a break in the shoot and heard someone say, ‘We’re getting her for our Christmas ad campaign.’ Oh-mi-gosh, isn’t that incredible?”
“Yes. I got a call this morning. They’re offering an excellent deal,” Rachel said. She hadn’t contacted Katie earlier with the news, not wanting to interrupt filmi
ng on the furniture store ad.
Katie’s excited shriek was so loud that Rachel jerked the receiver away from her ear. She didn’t want to spoil the model’s excitement, but would have to look for an opportunity to warn the young woman not to get her hopes up over errant conversations. While it had turned out all right this time, that wasn’t always the case.
“Calm down,” she ordered firmly. “You have today’s shooting to get through and don’t want to mess up.”
“I know, I know. I’ll be careful,” Katie said, still sounding excited. “Uh... I appreciate you getting me this job. You must know I wasn’t thrilled when I got reassigned to you, but it’s going great. Sorry about the way I acted in the beginning.”
“You weren’t that bad,” Rachel assured her.
It was true. Besides, she understood how Katie had felt about getting a new agent so soon after signing a representation agreement with Moonlight Ventures. But it had been necessary for Nicole and Adam to redistribute part of their client lists now that another partner was full-time at the agency. Shifting new clients—with whom they hadn’t already built a strong relationship—had seemed best.
“Ooh, gotta go,” Katie said hurriedly. “The director gave us a fifteen-minute break, but I want to be the first one back.”
Rachel was pleased. They didn’t need their clients to develop diva traits, and being punctual was important. “All right. I don’t know if I can make it to the set today, but have a good shoot, Katie.”
“I will. Bye.”
Rachel put the receiver down, cheered by the conversation. Her irritation with Simon had faded, though she wasn’t any more eager to meet with him. She honestly didn’t know what to make of the guy. He’d revealed intimate details of his childhood, but she didn’t have a real sense of how it had affected him.
There’s no love lost between us.
That was what he’d said about his father...a flat statement, his voice devoid of emotion, as if he was talking about the weather. Most of what she knew about Simon as a man, other than the bare facts he’d revealed, was from seeing him interact with his daughter. Of course, she knew he didn’t want to get married again—he’d been very clear about that—though his comment about it being too big a risk was ambiguous. A risk? To what...his heart, his daughter’s happiness, his bank account?
His bank account, Rachel promptly decided, then chided herself. Devotion to his wife’s memory was one of the few things she felt certain about when it came to Simon Kessler. He probably just didn’t want to take the risk of loving and losing again.
But he was still a cynical mystery. She didn’t want to miss an interesting opportunity for the agency, but how could she agree to be a consultant for a man like that?
* * *
GEMMA CLUTCHED THE business card Rachel had given her and pushed open the door to the Moonlight Ventures talent agency. She saw a woman with dark hair busily typing at a computer to the right side of the reception desk.
The woman looked up. “Hello. I’m Chelsea Masters, the agency’s office manager. Can I help you?”
“I’m Gemma Paulsen. Rachel suggested I come down to talk about volunteering for reading books.”
Chelsea smiled. “She told me about you. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
A few minutes later Rachel came into the reception area. “Gemma, I’m glad you came. I called Matt and he’d like to meet you. I’ll take you down there.”
Glad that she wouldn’t have to go to the recording studio by herself, Gemma followed Rachel outside. The day was beautiful, dominated by a brilliant blue sky and fluffy white clouds. With Livvie in school, she was usually free in the mornings. She’d been tempted to just walk down by the lake and read, but then she thought about how she wanted to do something different with her life. This seemed like a good beginning, if an unknown one.
Around the corner at the end of the building, Rachel led the way into another reception area. It had a totally different atmosphere. Rather than the refined elegance of Moonlight Ventures, there were photos of singing groups and book posters. Mismatched chairs were scattered around and the girl at the small computer desk had black spiky hair, black leather pants and a dragon tattoo down her arm.
“Hey, Rachel,” the girl said.
“Hi, Sherrie. Matt is expecting us.”
“Great. Go on, he’s in the control room. I gotta keep working on these stupid invoices. Man, I thought working at a recording studio was going to be so cool. Instead it’s boring and lame.”
Rachel winked at Gemma. “Don’t let her fool you. She loves her job.”
“Don’t go around saying that,” Sherrie ordered. “I want a raise.”
Gemma laughed and tried to relax. They went down a hallway and Rachel knocked on a door marked Control Room. She opened it at a muffled “Come in.”
A tall man was seated in front of an electronic board with all sorts of switches and things that Gemma didn’t understand. It was a small area with a huge glass window that looked out onto a larger room with microphones hanging from the ceiling. A woman stood in front of one and gazed expectantly at the window.
The man wore headphones and seemed to be listening intently. After a minute he nodded and spoke into a mike on his instrument panel. “It sounds good, Bryce. We’ll call it a wrap.” Then he spun his chair in their direction. “Hey, Rachel.”
“Hi. Matt, this is Gemma Paulson, the volunteer I told you about.”
“Good morning, Gemma,” he said.
“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
“The same here. Can you tell me a little more?”
“I...I’m not sure what you mean. This is kind of weird.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to recite the Gettysburg Address. Just tell me something about yourself.”
Hoping to calm her nerves, Gemma smiled. Matt didn’t return the gesture and she wondered if something was wrong. “I, uh, was born and raised in Seattle. My folks live here and it’s always been my home except for two years in New York. I’m a nanny, but I’m studying early childhood development. That is, I’m going back to college in January to finish getting my degree. It’s taking a while. I have two brothers. My mom works part-time and my dad’s job is in the aircraft industry.” She stopped and looked at him uncertainly. “Um, how much more should I say?”
“That’s enough. You’ve got a good voice. We’ll get something recorded and see how you sound electronically. Just try to slow down and not talk so fast. Can you do the recording now? I had a cancellation this morning, which means my next two hours are free.”
“That would be okay.”
“Excellent.” Matt turned toward Rachel. “Rachel, are you signing her as a client? I can make a CD for your files, if you like.”
“That would be great. Gemma hasn’t decided whether she wants to go in that direction, but in the meantime, we’ll have the recording if it’s needed.”
It seemed surreal to Gemma that she might be hired simply because she had an okay speaking voice. Of course, she didn’t want to give up on getting her college degree, but working as a volunteer shouldn’t interfere.
“Then we’re in business,” Matt said.
Gemma thought he was nice-looking with his sandy hair and warm blue eyes. But it made her uncomfortable when his gaze seemed to pass over her as if she wasn’t there. Maybe his eyes weren’t as warm as they appeared, except he really had seemed pleased to meet her.
“See you, Matt,” Rachel said. “Gemma, come by when you’re finished. If you have the time. I know you have to work around Livvie’s school schedule.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, Rachel,” Matt called as she left. “Gemma, let’s get you set up in the live studio.”
He reached for something behind him, and from underneath the table came a dog wearing a harness.
A guide dog.
Gemma drew a quick breath. So that was why Matt hadn’t responded the way she might have expected: he was blind.
Feeling odd, she stepped through the control room door and waited as he emerged, his dog seeming to know where he wanted to go. Matt directed her to a microphone hanging down in the middle of the live studio and pulled over a heavy podium.
“I could help with that,” she offered.
His expression tightened. “I’ve got it. Do you need a stool, or do you prefer to stand?”
“Stand. I’ve read you should stand when doing phone interviews because you sound more energetic and alert. The same must apply to reading aloud.”
“You’re right. When I signal, start reading from the papers on the stand. The mike is sensitive, so you don’t have to be on top of it.”
“Um, I brought a book if you’d prefer.” Gemma held up her purse, then felt her face go red. He couldn’t see her gesture.
“That’s okay,” Matt told her. “The material I’ve given you will give a good sense of your pronunciation and how you do with unfamiliar material.”
“Oh.”
He left, and a minute later she saw him reenter the control room, though she couldn’t hear anything. It was eerie. The live studio was utterly silent. He did something with some switches, then raised his right hand and waved. At the same time, a green sign lit up, saying On.
Trying not to think about being recorded, she started reading.
* * *
ON HER WAY back to the agency, Rachel stopped at the Crystal Connection for a cup of espresso. The shop was run by a tenant of Moonlight Ventures and sold an eclectic mix of goods that included fabulous coffee. Yet sadness permeated the air and Rachel was reminded that one of the owners, Eric Parrish, had passed away from a heart attack shortly after her own move back to Seattle. While his wife was considerably younger than Eric had been, she still must be around seventy.
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