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She needed to do something productive and begin to see results immediately. With the shelter, it had done just that. It gave her great satisfaction to know she was able to help young teenagers who, otherwise, could end up on the streets doing only God knew what. This way she gave them not only shelter but safety from a harsh world that preyed on young vulnerable girls.
The corridor suddenly opened up to a large room lined with office desks and computers. She doubted she made the right turn after all, but at least here were faces and someone to direct her to Virgil Britten's office.
A young woman, not older than Laura herself, looked up as Laura approached her desk. Over the smooth hum of keyboards, she asked, “I've got an appointment with Virgil Britten. Could you please direct me to his office?”
“Is your name Laura Witherow?” After nodding yes, she was directed down yet another corridor.
This corridor was much shorter to Laura's relief. At the end was another small office, consisting of only one person. This woman, too, was around her own age and smiled upon greeting her, obviously expecting her. Laura returned the smile uncertainly. The small quarters hardly appeared to be the reception area for the president of the company.
“Laura Witherow? If you'll just have a seat, he'll be with you in a few minutes.”
She took one of the two cushioned seats against the opposite wall of the receptionist's desk then took a quick survey of her surroundings. The office was small, fairly empty, and modestly plain for one who was head of the company. The walls were a weary cream tone with one print of nothing in particular hanging from it. Laura's eyes digested the only sense of life in the room came from the receptionist's desk. It was splattered with color consisting of family photos, comic clippings, and humor mugs. She looked up to find the receptionist smiling across at her.
“Decorating is left in the hands of my boss, but the desk is all mine.” She cared to explain.
Laura smiled just as the buzzer on the girl's telephone rang. Without hesitation, the woman, Cara Henderson, as her nameplate identified, picked up the receiver. “Yes, you're 9:15 appointment has arrived. Ms. Witherow is—”
Laura glanced up as the woman's voice was cut short and her pleasant smile averted into a frown. With a brief glance in Laura's direction she looked down at her appointment book, then said into the receiver, “Laura. Laura Witherow.”
In the next second, the door adjoining the small office swung open and a large familiar form filled its entrance. “What the blazes are you doing here?”
CHAPTER 3
Laura spun around, startled at Dexter O'Reilly's unexpected appearance. Her eyes drank in his appearance, taking note of his business attire and how it formed his masculine physique and gave him a semblance of power. He was exactly how she remembered him. Right from the thick brown locks above those forceful but dynamic eyes, down to the small shadow of growth along his hard sturdy jaw-line.
She caught herself floundering as she attempted to get to her feet nonchalantly. “I see your mood hasn’t improved in the past eight months, Mr. O'Reilly.”
He shot Laura a troubled glare. “Who told you where to find me?”
Laura was taken aback. “No one. I found you myself—I mean, I found Britten Investment myself. Where you came from, I've no idea.”
“I happen to work here. I’m Britten’s chief financial officer. What are you doing here?”
“I thought you ran Summer Meadows?”
“I’m just their financial adviser. So again, what are you doing here?”
“I thought you were the owner?”
His lips thinned. “It’s none of your business my position in the food chain. Now, whatever your reason, I suggest you turn around and leave the same way you came. I have no interest in a reconciliation with you.”
Angry, she threw back at him. “I’m not here to see you. I'm here to see Virgil Britten. I have an appointment—”
He swore under his breath and scowled down at her for the longest moment before growling, “When will you get out of my life?”
Startled, she muttered, “Pardon?” But then found herself hurt by his blunt words and immediately went on the defense. “I'm not in your life. And if you would kindly direct me to Virgil—”
Turning abruptly, he marched back into his office. His reaction was so swift it completely took her by surprise. Floundering for only a moment, she felt a surge of irritation and swiftly followed him into the interior of his office.
“Do you mind?” she promptly demanded.
“Yes, as a matter-of-fact, I do,” he snapped. “It looks as if we're stuck with each other for the time being, so the sooner we get started the sooner we can finish.”
Shut inside the small interiors of his office with only herself and an overbearing and unpleasant Dexter O‘Reilly, suddenly had Laura feeling utterly vulnerable. Unconsciously, she lifted her chin defiantly. “Listen, I think there's been a mishap—”
“Virgil doesn't deal with this portion of the business. That's my usual post.” he rudely interrupted. “I wasn't sure how this meeting got mes
sed up and landed on his desk. But now that I realize it was you—”
