"I'm sorry. I'm lousy company."
"Was your business meeting difficult?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact." Because it was soothing, she sampled the bisque again. "I'll deal with it."
"Why don't you tell me what you do when you're not dealing with difficult business problems?"
The headache at the edges of her consciousness wasn't backing off, but it wasn't creeping closer. "I deal with simple business problems."
"And when you're not dealing with business?"
She studied him narrowly, the mild, polite eyes, the easy smile. "You are coming on to me."
"No, I'm considering coming on to you, which is entirely different. That's why we're having a basic conversation over a bowl of soup." His smile widened, flirted. "It also gives you equal opportunity to consider whether or not you'd like to come on to me."
Her lips twitched before she could stop them. "I do appreciate a man who believes in gender equality." She also had to appreciate that for a few minutes he'd taken her mind off her troubles. That he knew it, yet didn't push the point.
"I think I'm beginning to like you, Kate. You are, I believe, an acquired taste, and I've always enjoyed odd flavors."
"That's quite a statement. My heart's going pitty-pat."
He laughed, a quick, full-throated, masculine sound that appealed, however much she would have preferred otherwise.
"Yeah, it's definite. I like you. Why don't we expand this conversation thing over a full meal? Say, dinner. Tonight?"
She was tempted to agree, for the simple reason that being around him made her think about something other than herself. But… She set her napkin beside her bowl. She thought it would be best to err on the side of caution with a man like Byron De Witt "I don't want to form habits too quickly. I have to get back to the office."
She rose, amused when he automatically got to his feet. Gender equality or not, she decided, he was southern gentleman through and through. "Thanks for the soup."
"You're welcome." He took her hand, held it lightly and enjoyed the faint line that popped up between her brows. "Thanks for the conversation. We will have to do it again."
"Hmm," was her best response as she slid the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder and walked away.
He watched her go and wondered what problem, business or otherwise, had made her look so devastated. And so alone.
The rumor mill was working overtime at Bittle and Associates. Every tiny, underripe fruit plucked from the grapevine was chewed lavishly at the water cooler, the copy room, the storage closet.
Larry Bittle and his sons, Lawrence Junior and Martin—just call me Marty—continued their closed-door meetings with the other partners every morning. Copies of accounts were delivered to the group by Bittle Senior's tight-lipped, sharp-eyed executive assistant regularly.
If she knew anything, went the wisdom of the water cooler, she wasn't saying.
"They're working their way through every account," Roger told Kate. He'd hunted her down in the stockroom when she went to replenish her supply of computer paper. "Marcie in Accounts Receivable said they're even going over internal ledgers. And Beth, the Dragon Lady's assistant, says they've been on the hot line with the lawyers."
Lips pursed, Kate grabbed a handful of Ticonderoga number 2's. "Are all your sources female?"
He grinned. "No, but Mike in the mail room is coming up dry. What's your take?"
"Gotta figure internal audit."
"Yeah, that's mine. But here's the question, Kate. Why?"
In truth, that very question had been on her mind for days. She considered. Smart, ambitious, ruthless people had the best gossip. Since Roger fit all the requirements, she decided to share her thoughts in hopes of priming his pump.
"Okay, we've had a couple of really good years. In the past five we've increased our client base by fifteen percent. Bittle's growing, so I'm thinking expansion, maybe a new branch. They'd put Lawrence in charge, add more associates, and give some of us the option of relocating. A big step like that would take a lot of thought and planning, and the partners would want to focus hard on the bottom line."
"Could be. There's been noises before about opening in the L.A. area, snagging more media accounts. But I've been hearing other grumblings, too." He leaned closer, lowered his voice, and his eyes were bright with excitement. "Larry's been thinking about passing the torch. Retiring."
"Why would he?" Kate whispered in response. They sounded like conspirators. "He's only sixty."