Beyond Business. Elizabeth Harbison

the same old boy think she was pretty.

      She had to be crazy.

      Why did this matter so much to her?

      It didn’t, she told herself as she carefully brushed a mossy green shadow in a thin line along her lashes. Not too much, just enough to make her eyes stand out.

      It made sense that she should look her best for a meeting with talent the company was trying to hire, didn’t it?

      So this wasn’t really to impress Evan, she reminded herself as she struggled to bring her long, wavy, chestnut-colored hair under control with a ceramic flat iron. She merely wanted to look her best so that these men would take her seriously professionally. It would have been foolish for her to face them with the distraction of sleep-deprived pale skin and wild, unruly hair.

      She had to make herself look like the sleek professional she was.

      The clock ticked slowly forward as she prepared for the evening. The truth was, the time seemed to be going extra slowly. It didn’t take that long to do her makeup and hair, but she was so agitated about spending the evening out with Evan that she wanted to keep busy until it was time to leave.

      Instead, she found herself dressed up with nowhere to go and nothing to think about other than Evan for an hour before she needed to leave for Navy Pier.

      Meredith purposely waited in her car an extra few minutes before meeting Evan and Lenny Doss.

      Evan had volunteered to pick her up and give her a ride, but she had declined, and though she couldn’t say exactly why, it probably had a lot to do with the fact that it was weird enough seeing Evan again—she couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him under the front porch light of her parents’ house right now. It would be just too … eerie.

      Besides, she wanted to maintain as much control over the situation as she could. And as she sat in the car watching the minutes tick away on the digital readout in the dash, she reminded herself that was exactly what she was doing.

      Maintaining control.

      Ten minutes past the time that her stomach began twisting and telling her to hurry up you can’t be late she got out of her car, pushed the lock button on her key chain and walked at a measured pace to the restaurant.

      Her biggest dread was being the first one there, sitting like an idiot alone at the table waiting for a man she had once known and loved.

      Fortunately, both men in question were already there, sitting at a mercifully large round table with half-filled glasses of beer in front of them.

      Evan looked amazing in a light-blue band collar cotton shirt and khakis that emphasized his physique without being so tight they looked like he was about to hit the dance floor for a disco contest.

      Lenny, on the other hand, was wearing exactly that kind of pants: tight dark-blue jeans with a loud Hawaiian-print shirt that looked about two sizes too small and should have had at least three more buttons fastened in order to look acceptable, if not great.

      “Meredith,” Evan called when he saw her. He stood up and beckoned her over to the chair next to him.

      Was it her imagination or did he looked relieved?

      Meredith gave a smile of thanks to the hostess, took a short, bracing breath and smiled at the two men. “Hi there. I’m sorry if I’m late.”

      “Not at all,” Evan said. “Please, sit down. This is Lenny Doss. Lenny, this is Meredith Waters. She works in the publicity department. She’ll be helping us come up with some promotional ideas for your return to network broadcasting.”

      “Oh?” She shot Evan a questioning glance. “Did the two of you come to terms on a contract?”

      “Not yet,” Lenny said. “But now that I get a gander at the talent they got back at the office, I gotta say, I’m a little more inclined to sign.”

      Evan’s ire was immediately up. “Hey—”

      Meredith put a hand up to stop him. She could handle this herself, without ugliness. “It’s the on-air talent that we’re concerned with at the moment, Mr. Doss. Do you think you can really live up to our expectations?”

      Lenny started posturing, exactly as she’d thought he would. “Just you watch,” he said, sliding a hand through his slicked-back, thinning hair.

      The waitress stopped by and discreetly took Meredith’s order for a glass of Chardonnay.

      “And can you keep yourself in line?” Meredith went on to Lenny. “It’s my understanding that you’ve had a little trouble with that in the past. Hanson Media won’t put up with you incurring FCC fines, you know.”

      “It’s in the contract,” Evan said to her quietly.

      She was impressed. For a guy who’d never really worked in the business world, he was pretty good. She turned and gave him a quick wink.

      “So what about it, Mr. Doss?” she asked, then took a sip of her wine. It was bitter. She hated wine, actually, but not as much as she hated beer or any of the other alternatives. And ordering a soda would have looked so prim and proper that a guy like this would probably have held it against her. “Should we give you a chance? And if so, why?”

      He wasn’t that easy, unfortunately. “The question is, should I give you a chance.” He took a long swig of his beer then belched hideously. The look in his eyes was one of sheer pride. “And I’m not so sure about that yet.”

      Evan moved in his chair, effectively putting himself fractionally closer to Meredith. He didn’t do it consciously, she could tell, but it was a protective move nevertheless.

      And she found it comforting.

      She sank, ever so slightly, against his presence and, bolstered by that, said to Lenny, “You’re going to have to make up your mind, because we’re in talks with Howard Stern, as well.”

      Lenny’s eyes shot up to hers. “You are?” Then he frowned and said, “No way. No, you aren’t.”

      “He costs more than you do,” she said casually, taking a roll out of the basket in the center of the table. “But, as you know, he’s got better ratings.”

      “Only because he’s been in more markets.”

      She shrugged and pulled the roll apart, buttering half of it with deliberate slowness. “I don’t know. We’re just looking at the bottom line. Right, Evan?”

      His brown eyes were bright with amusement. It looked as if he’d been planning to simply sit back and watch the conversation between Lenny and Meredith unfold, so when she mentioned his name it took a second for him to say, “Right. Bottom line. It’s all about the bottom line.”

      Lenny’s small dark eyes shot from Meredith to Evan and back again. She could practically see his mind working. “I hear that,” he said, with much forced casualness. “Uh-huh.” His cell phone rang—an aggressive measure from a Green Day song—and he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Yo,” he said into the phone. “Speak.”

      After a moment, he said, “Heeyyyy, Roberts.” Meredith guessed by “Roberts” he was talking about Karl Roberts, his agent. “I’m just meeting here with Hanson and a chick from the publicity department. They’re trying to talk me into signing but I don’t know, man. What you got for me? Is Clear Channel Radio still nipping at us, too?” He flashed a self-satisfied glance at Evan and Meredith.

      It disappeared quickly, though. “What’s that?” Lenny asked. It may have been Meredith’s imagination, but she thought she saw panic flicker in Lenny’s eyes. “They’re not?” He glanced in Evan’s direction again and quickly turned away, saying, “So what’s their offer?”

      Another pause during which Lenny looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Interesting. But I want to wait and see what Hanson can come up with. It’s not just about the money. I like these guys.”