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No, she wouldn’t go there.
“It was a lucky break running into your friend the Earl of Melton.”
Tamara started guiltily. “He’s not my friend.”
“Well, friend or acquaintance—”
“And what do you mean it was a lucky break?” she asked, even as she was touched by a feeling of foreboding.
“Well, this music producer has a friend who socializes with the earl. Seems the earl had heard my music—”
She’d just bet Sawyer was a fan of Zero Sum.
“—and had talked it up to a friend of his, who passed along the recommendation to his music industry connection.”
Tamara felt a wave of heat wash up her face. He didn’t…He wouldn’t…
And yet, it was all too convenient.
When she found Sawyer, she was going to let him have it, and then some.
For Tom’s sake, however, she forced herself to sound cheerful. There was no reason to rain on Tom’s parade by imparting her suspicions about how his lucky break was more than mere luck.
Besides, from Tom’s perspective, it didn’t matter how his intro to a top music producer had come about. The bottom line was that he was getting his chance to hit it big.
“I owe this all to you, Tam,” Tom said gratefully. “I don’t need to tell you how tough things have been in the music industry lately, so getting someone to take a chance on Zero Sum is a big deal.”
If only Tom knew exactly what he owed to her, Tamara thought.
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” Tamara said. “Blow them away.”
“Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”
When she ended her call with Tom, she set down the phone and stared at it unseeingly, her brows knitting as she contemplated Sawyer’s skullduggery.
She’d barely begun to get herself worked up over Sawyer’s fiendishness, however, when the intercom sounded.
After she pressed the intercom button by the front door, she jumped as she heard Sawyer’s voice.
She took a deep breath. Apparently her confrontation with Sawyer would occur sooner than she’d expected.
“Come on up,” she said with a semblance of serenity, and buzzed him in.
Four
Trust Tamara to name her company something ridiculous and suggestive like Pink Teddy Designs, Sawyer thought as he rode the elevator up to the third floor.
The name had been emblazoned next to the buzzer for Tamara’s apartment in a cast-iron warehouse building that had long ago been converted into lofts. Located along one of SoHo’s narrow side streets, the sidewalk in front of Tamara’s building had nevertheless been almost as crowded with pedestrians and street vendors peddling everything from paintings to T-shirts as SoHo’s main commercial strips, Broadway and Prince and Spring Streets.
It looked as if Tamara had rented one of the cheaper apartments she could find in one of Manhattan’s priciest boho neighborhoods. Factories and warehouses had long since given way to high-end retailers such as Prada, Marc Jacobs and Chanel, though some artists who had bought their lofts when they were cheap still held on.
Of course, Sawyer thought, the businessman in him could appreciate that Tamara’s choice of location made sense. Any business had a certain image to project, and location was part of it. But it seemed as if Tamara had cut corners where she could, starting with choosing a side street and a lower floor, closer to street noises.
He stepped out of the elevator and found Tamara’s apartment. But just as he was about to hit the bell, the door opened.
As a first impression, Tamara made quite an impact. In two seconds flat, he registered a short V-neck purple dress, black peep-toe sandals with bows and an opal pendant nestled on the pillow of her cle**age.
His body hummed to life.
“What are you doing here?” Tamara asked, her voice cool and clipped, though her eyes flashed fire.
He twisted his lips sardonically. “That makes twice. Is that the way you greet all your clients?”
“Only the ones who aren’t welcome.” Then belying her words, she stepped aside. “What do you mean by client?”
Sawyer walked into the boxy but airy loft. “I want to have a piece of jewelry designed, if you’ll recall.”
Tamara’s face registered disbelief before her eyes flashed fire again. “You can’t be serious.”
“That makes twice again. I seem to have a knack for eliciting the same reactions from you.” Then he added, in answer to her question, “In fact, I am serious, and I thought you’d be happy about the offer of business.”
He watched as she clamped her mouth shut. Splendid. He’d stopped her adamancy with a tantalizing lure—a reminder of what he had to offer, and what she stood to lose.
Sawyer scanned the loft. It looked like what his prior investigation had revealed: an apartment that also served as an office and business headquarters.
Near the back, he could see a partition that appeared to section off a sleeping area. To his right, near the entry door, there was a kitchen with light wood cabinets and black appliances. In front of him, the space was dominated by a comfy work area—a deep-red velour couch and armchair, a few potted plants and a large glass-topped table cluttered with what looked, at a glance, like the tools of the jewelry-making trade. A workbench stood off to one side.
The entire space was marked by a high ceiling and accentuated by large, inverted-U-shaped windows that let in plenty of natural light—a precious commodity in Manhattan’s pricey real estate market.
Hearing a click as Tamara shut the door behind him, he walked with deliberate casualness to a nearby waist-high glass display case.
He let his eyes scan the bracelets, necklaces and earrings on display, all made from some type of green gemstone.
“It’s green agate, in case you’re wondering,” Tamara said crisply as she stopped beside him.
He looked up from the case, and she regarded him challengingly, almost defensively.
“I was reading your stare,” she explained.
“You have a unique style.”
“Thank you, I think.”
His lips quirked up. “You’re welcome.”
She looked pointedly at his custom-made business suit, as if making a silent judgment about the contrast in their two styles.
Perhaps she was also wondering why he’d bothered to fit a visit with her into his busy work schedule.
He wasn’t about to accommodate her unspoken question, however. Because the truth was, though it was late Wednesday afternoon and the middle of his workweek, he’d cleared his schedule in order to come downtown and find her. And if Tamara knew the importance he’d attached to his visit, she’d clam up and retreat. Or more likely, it would raise her hackles again.
