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If she put her fingers to her pulse right now, she knew it would be the equivalent of someone being chased by a dinosaur. Sweat was breaking out on her forehead and her back. Ugh. Not exactly perfect for an attorney meeting—that was if she ever found the place she was supposed to be.
She took one last glance at her phone and dashed over to a coffee cart. “Please, can you help me, I can’t get a signal on my phone and I’m looking for McNally, Travers, and Sully, Attorneys.”
The vendor’s face broke into a wide smile. “Sure, I can help. How about a coffee and a donut?”
Piper gulped. She wanted to say she didn’t have time. But if this guy was going to give her directions, it was the least she could do. “Absolutely,” she said, digging into her wallet and pulling out some bills. She glanced at the wide display of donuts. “A regular coffee and whatever you recommend.”
“Down the block, take a right, then a left, and McNally, Travers, and Sully is on the right, should be just in front of you.”
He handed over her coffee and a donut in a napkin. “Raspberry iced filled with chocolate. Definitely the best.”
Piper’s brain was back into panic mode. A block, a right, and a left didn’t sound that close. She was going to be even later than she thought.
She tried to walk briskly down the sidewalk, but her boots kept slipping and sliding, struggling to make any kind of purchase against the mixture of ice and fresh snow. Her thighs were starting to ache and her perfectly styled hair at eight this morning was clinging to her head.
She ignored the aches in her thighs and kept striding down the sidewalk, keeping a close eye on the time and loosening the buttons on her wool coat. Finally, she glimpsed a green and gold signMcNally, Travers, and Sully. But just as she let out a giant sigh of relief her feet skidded from under her.
It felt like slow-motion. If someone had caught her on camera, she would have been a perfect impersonation of a dancer in a disco doing the running man. But that didn’t help as she landed on the sidewalk with a crunch, coffee spilling everywhere and the sticky chocolate filling and pink icing of her donut meeting right in the middle of her pale pink blouse.
For a second, she just sat there, trying to pretend this horror-struck person wasn’t really her.
Then, a black leather-gloved hand reached out toward her. “Let me help you up, ma’am.”
It was the doorman of the hotel next to the attorneys’ office. He pulled her to her feet with a strong grip and handed her an old-fashioned cotton handkerchief. She’d already taken it and tried to dab the sticky mess from her middle, before she’d even realized what she was doing.
“I’m so sorry,” she began, staring down at the smudged handkerchief. “This will be ruined.”
He smiled at her and shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Are you sure that you’re okay?”
She glanced at the sign diagonal to them and nodded her head. “I might not look my best for my visit to the attorneys’ office.”
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “The people in there are wonderful. You have nothing to worry about.”
Piper gave another nod, knowing she couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. She made her way into the lobby and took the elevator to the fifteenth floor. The offices were smart but understated. These attorneys didn’t need to impress anyone.
A young man was at the reception desk. His eyes quickly scanned Piper, but he kept his face completely straight. “Can I help?”
He clearly thought she’d got off at the wrong floor. “I have an appointment. Piper Davis. I’m a bit late, I’m sorry.”
The man stood quickly. “Oh, Ms. Davis. Of course. The meeting has just started, come this way.” He looked as if he was going to suggest she tidy herself up, but his eyes went to the large clock on the wall, and he clearly changed his mind.
She followed him down the corridor and into a large corner office. Four people were already in the room. Two men and two women.
“Ms. Davis,” said the young man, introducing her, showing her to a chair and leaving swiftly as all eyes turned to her.
“Sorry I’m late,” she blustered. “Car trouble and then coffee trouble.” She looked down at her stained blouse. It was much worse than she’d initially thought.
Behind a large desk, one older man and two older women sat looking at her carefully. She didn’t miss the subtle exchange of glances.
One woman stood. “Diana Sully,” she said warmly, nodding to the man on her immediate right. “This is Frank McNally and Lisa Travers.”
Piper did her best to smile as she sat in the comfortable cream leather seat opposite. Her head turned to the man by her side. And she stopped.
Startling green eyes regarded her with a huge degree of hostility. “Piper Davis,” he said, arching one eyebrow. “And here was me, thinking you liked to get to places early.”
No way. Dawson McLeod. She’d recognize that face anywhere. And not because she’d first seen it when she was nine and leaving Margaret Smith’s house. He was a sports journalist now. Popular in Chicago, and he frequently reported on baseball, football, basketball, hockey, and soccer. His face was often on her TV screen—not that she watched a lot of sports, but Dawson McLeod had a really annoying habit of being there whenever she flicked a channel. It was hard to believe last time she’d seen him they’d both been kids. But the memory was imprinted on her brain—partly because of how upset he’d been to have missed the interview.
She gave him a hard stare. He clearly hadn’t forgotten anything either.
