"That's our first cut at how our two companies could work together." Rick gave the assembled Hudson Media executives one of his rare but dazzling smiles. "Of course we're anxious to hear your ideas."
Jennifer took a drink of ice water and tried to still her racing heart. The man was pure brilliance. He had fully incorporated everything she and Eric had suggested, but somehow Rick had made it more. If Hudson Enterprises didn't buy in, they should have their heads examined.
That is, if they looked past Rick's appearance.
He couldn't help looking good. Sophia DiGratten's eyes had widened when he'd stalked into the room. His faded jeans, cowboy boots, and black T-shirt made him look all male. Still, he didn't fit the New York board-room mold. All of the Hudson Media junior executives wore well-tailored suits.
Jennifer shot another look at Sophia DiGratten.
The impeccably dressed actress and executive touched an appreciative tongue to her lips. "Comments, people?"
"We're wasting our time," a young man declared. "The last thing we need is a low-class cowboy telling us how to run our business."
Rick's eyes narrowed as he stared at the overdressed and undermuscled male.
Jennifer remembered the day half the football team had made fun of Rick's clothes. He'd blacked four of their eyes before they finally held him down and beat the stuffing out of him. If he reverted to form, the meeting would be over--and they all might end up in jail.
"Uh, that's what I think, anyway," the young man concluded lamely, caving in to Rick's hard stare.
"Any sensible comments," DiGratten growled.
"Well, the demographics--"
At another glare from DiGratten, the baby executive shrank back into his chair.
"In that case, you can go," DiGratten interrupted.
Jennifer couldn't believe DiGratten was dismissing them after dragging them all the way to New York. Maybe she didn't like every detail Rick had presented. Maybe Rick's jeans and t- shirt made her discount what he had to say. Still, he'd shown an incredible mastery of the facts and strategies for the two businesses. Even a TV star should be able to see the synergy.
"Not you," DiGratten told Jennifer when she reached for her laptop bag. "My guys, out." Her trained voice snapped with the kind of authority Jennifer knew she could never project.
"There is a reason your previous Internet ventures failed," Rick commented.
"I'm fully aware of that. I've booked us reservations for lunch. We can talk about it there. If you'll follow me?"
Jennifer didn't want Rick following DiGratten anywhere. The woman had to be well over forty, but nothing in her face or body hinted at it. Her hips wiggled with a come-hither that even Jennifer could feel. Rick's tongue had to be falling out.
DiGratten made casual conversation about the soap opera business as they rode a sleek limousine south toward Greenwich Village.
As they turned off Fifth, Jennifer started to get an uncomfortable feeling. Could they really be going to the Vielle Mouton, her father's favorite New York hangout?
The limo coasted to a familiar stop. La Vielle Mouton restaurant catered to a crowd that liked to spend money. A salad ran fifty dollars and you couldn't get a bottle of wine for less than two hundred. It was also famous for its snooty atmosphere. The maitre d' had been known to toss out even movie stars who failed to dress according to his standards. Jennifer couldn't imagine a place less suited to Rick's comfort.
"Ms. DiGratten, how nice to see you again," the maitre d' said as the party entered. "And could it be little Jennifer Hollman? How wonderful that you're up from Texas."
DiGratten gave Jennifer a look as if seeing her for the first time. "You've been here?"
"Mr. Hollman used to visit us quite often," the maitre d' said as Jennifer unsuccessfully sputtered for an answer. "I haven't seen Miss Jennifer for years now. You look lovely, my dear."
"How nice," DiGratten said, before Jennifer could answer. She couldn't tell if DiGratten was pleased or jealous at being upstaged.
"We have your private room reserved," the maitre d' murmured to DiGratten. "Your guests won't feel uncomfortable."
He hadn't intended Rick to hear, but he hadn't counted on Rick's excellent hearing. Rick's facial muscles tightened into a grimace.
"Maybe we should go someplace a little less formal," Jennifer suggested.
"Nonsense," DiGratten replied. "We'll be fine."
The Maitre d' showed them to a second floor room with a view of the street below.
DiGratten ordered a bottle of wine that would have cost over a hundred dollars in a Dallas restaurant. Jennifer didn't want to think about what it cost here.
The wine steward returned with the bottle and presented it to Rick. He stared at it blankly.
Jennifer's face burned. For all his intelligence, Rick was still the boy who'd begged for scraps to eat. Obviously he'd meant it when he told Jennifer he wasn't rich. At least he hadn't adopted the lifestyle of the rich. He had no idea how to handle this type of a restaurant.
DiGratten looked at him as if wondering what he would do next.
Acting on impulse, Jennifer took over. Pretending to be her father, she inspected the bottle, sniffed the cork, swirled the small sample of wine and studied the color, then sipped. "Very good," she said.
While the wine steward was pouring each of them a glass of the red Bordeaux, an older gentlemen walked into the room and sat beside Jennifer.
"I'd like you to meet our Chairman, Ernest Laurent," DiGratten said when the steward had stepped away. "The lunch meeting was his idea."
"I wanted to see you in a more formal environment," Laurent announced. "Frankly, we're not sure you are up to the magnitude of the task."
"Mr. Engle's presentation showed a sophisticated understanding of our dilemma and an intriguing way out of it," DiGratten said.
Laurent waved DiGratten's comment aside. "I'm not complaining about his presentation."
Rick didn't react at all, but Eric half-jumped. Mr. Laurent had definitely not been one of the attendees at their earlier meeting.
Laurent saw Eric's involuntary reaction and gave a humorless laugh. "Closed circuit, don't you know? I use it all the time. It lets me see what's really going on. That way I can make sure they aren't all lying to me."
Rick nodded slowly. "So you spy on your employees?"
"They're notified that they may be under observation. Trust me, it's perfectly legal. Plus, it's worth the investment to avoid an earnings surprise."
"Maybe if you didn't punish the messenger you'd have a better chance at getting to the truth," Rick observed.
It wasn't the most tactful approach. Jennifer wondered if Rick was aware of Laurent's reputation as one of the meanest men in New York, then realized that it wouldn't matter. Rick stood up for his beliefs.
A small army of waiters carried in the first lunch course, temporarily heading off Laurent's reaction. As soon as they left the room, he exploded. "Are you saying I don't know how to manage?"
Rick shrugged. "You seem to get results. I notice, though, that you've lost most of your senior management over the past five years."
Laurent bit off a reply when DiGratten put a hand on his shoulder. "He is from Texas, sir."
"Don't they teach manners in that damn state?"
Jennifer's protective instincts had gone into overdrive hours before. Now they revved even higher. She'd seen what Rick could do. These New York types shouldn't judge him just because they didn't like the message he delivered. Or the way he delivered it. Especially since he was probably right about why Laurent's management staff was so ... mobile..
"I would think Wall Street would be concerned about your lack of a strong succession plan," she broke in. "Your stock trend hasn't reflected your earnings pattern."
"Who the hell are you?" Laurent demanded.
"This is Jennifer Hollman," DiGratten said. "She's their P.R. director."
Jennifer hadn't realized DiGratten had paid any attention to their introductions. All of her attention had appeared focused on Rick.
"Should be doing shareholder relations," Laurent said. "Do it."
An icy chill ran down Jennifer's back. Was he really saying what she thought he was? "I already have a job."
Laurent gave her a feral glare. "You'll earn twice as much as these fly-by-nights pay you."
"I'm sorry, sir."
Rick pushed back his chair. "I'm sorry too. I thought we were here to discuss possible business synergy, not to let you pirate our talent. And trust me, I don't have to come all the way to New York to find out how uncouth I am."
"You aren't going anywhere, young man," Laurent sputtered.
"Mr. Laurent, watch me."
Rick stood and strode from the room. Eric followed on his heels.
Jennifer's back was to the window and she found her way out blocked by Laurent on one side and DiGratten on the other. Neither budged when she struggled to her feet. "Let me out, please."
DiGratten put a hand on her shoulder. "Give me a minute, Ms. Hollman."
"Why should I? You've insulted my boss and wasted our time. Maybe you don't have anything better to do than play sadistic games. We have a business to run."
"Neither of us wants to waste your time. Frankly, we don't have much time ourselves. Mr. Laurent is sick."
The blunt announcement startled Jennifer. "That doesn't give him the right to be rude."
"No." Because she was such an accomplished actress, it was hard to tell what emotions DiGratten really felt. This looked like a genuine smile, though. "Mr. Laurent was a son of a bitch a long time before he got sick."
"Damned right. Have to drive the business," Laurent said.
"I'm sorry to hear you're not well," Jennifer said. "But I don't see how it helps, nor why you are keeping me against my will." She wondered if she could climb under the table before DiGratten grabbed her.
DiGratten dropped her hand from Jennifer's shoulder. "I'm not completely blind, Ms. Hollman. From what I can see, you care deeply about Mr. Engle. I'm asking you to stay because we have a proposition we think will benefit him a great deal."
"It's a lot better deal than he deserves," Laurent added. "If he listens to you."
***
Rick tersely asked the taxi driver, Casper Kowalski, to drive faster. When he didn't appear to hear, Rick attempted the phrase in Polish. He'd picked up a few phrases from one of his mother's boyfriends.
"Stick yourself," the driver replied.
"I guess I misspoke," Rick said.
"You say I go to toilet," the driver told him. "I take you to hotel very fast, so shut up."
"That’s the third time we passed this intersection," Eric said. "Maybe we should walk."
"Right." Rick opened the door, handing the driver a twenty.
"Hundred seventy dollars," the driver insisted.
Rick forced himself to unball his fists. He wanted to go home to Texas and get away from this. The last thing he needed was to spend a night in jail for assaulting one of New York's famous taxi drivers.
"I've got it," Eric told him.
The driver finally rolled away shouting curses or possibly blessings at them at the top of his lungs.
"He didn't like my tip," Eric said.
"He would have liked mine even less."
The two men headed north toward their hotel. Rick's anger at Mr. Laurent's behavior had faded. So what was his problem? He couldn't be mad at Jennifer just because she had stayed when he and Eric had walked out. They'd waited for ten minutes outside the restaurant, but Jennifer hadn't showed. Obviously they'd sweetened the job offer. More to the point, they could give her the classy environment she was used to.
Jennifer would fit right in. He never would.
"I think we should try out your concepts on the TV networks," Eric told him. "Not everyone will be as blind as Hudson Media."
"If I have to spend another day in New York, I'll hurl."
Making better time than they would have in the taxi, the two men arrived at the hotel in less than half an hour.
To Rick's surprise, Jennifer awaited them in the lobby.
"Locked out again?" he asked.
"I wanted to talk."
"I understand why you'd reconsider their offer," he said in an attempt to be magnanimous.
"That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Talk away. I'm getting drunk."
"It's only four in the afternoon."
"It took me a while to get here. Otherwise I would have started earlier."
Jennifer took a deep breath.
Despite himself, Rick's gaze was drawn to her breasts' movement under her suit jacket.
"Mr. Laurent is dying."
Rick shook his head. "So are lots of other people."
"Hudson Media doesn't have a succession plan. You hit that one right on the head."
Rick signaled for the cocktail waitress. "A double margarita." He turned to Jennifer. "You want one?"
"No."
"Make that two. I'll drink yours if you don't want it."
He waited until the waitress brought him his drink, drained it, then drained hers.
From the way Jennifer looked at him, obviously she didn't approve. Well, he didn't either. He hadn't gotten drunk since he'd left the Marines.
"You'll make a great addition to the Hudson Media team," he conceded. The thought of her a thousand miles away was harder to take than losing her at tattoo.com.
"Will you listen to me, or do I have to order a frozen fish and jam it in your eye?" Jennifer demanded.
"Hmm. Can I think about it?"
She didn't crack a smile.
Rick broke first. "All right, talk."
He wondered what would be possible for someone with her background and poise and his own drive. He spent half his life fighting for what Jennifer owned by virtue of birth and upbringing. Days like today proved that no amount of money could buy that for him.
"DiGratten and Laurent aren't just looking to hire me. They want to hire you and Eric too."
"Did you mention that we already have jobs?"
"They're looking to do a deal. They want to merge with tattoo.com and make you President of the combined company. You move to CEO when Laurent steps down next year, if he lives that long."
He pushed away his third drink and stared at Jennifer. "What are you talking about?"
"They need someone who can understand the new economy. They think you might be that person."
"That's manure. They think I'm low-life scum."
Jennifer gave him a funny look then took the drink from the table in front of him and helped herself to a big swallow. "You might be right. You know who else thinks that, though?"
"Who?" He was pretty sure he knew the answer--she did.
"You do."
"Now what are you talking about?"
"You've persuaded yourself that you're a low-class guy who could never fit into New York society."
"I wouldn't want to fit into New York society."
Jennifer nodded slowly. "That's a point. But it doesn't let you off the hook. You're intimidated by them."
Rick bit off his rejoinder. Jennifer was right. He hadn't just rejected the world of the rich and snobby, he'd cut himself off from it. It had been an understandable reaction for a teen-aged boy. As a grown man, he had to get over it.
"I had every right to walk out of that lunch," he said, less vehemently than his earlier arguments.
“You let them intimidate you and you ran.”
Suppose I am intimidated. I meant it walking out at lunch."
"That was part of Mr. Laurent's test. I think he wanted to make sure you wouldn't just cave in."
Rick munched a handful of pretzels, then took a sip of water. "Sounds like a no-win situation to me."
Jennifer nodded. "Except it isn't the end of the game. Hudson Media is planning an analyst meeting tomorrow. They want you to present your plans. If it goes well, they'll announce their intent to merge with tattoo.com."
He shook his head. "Another roomful of suits to sneer at me. You can't take the slum out of a guy in twenty-four hours."
"You're wrong," Jennifer told him. "You can be whoever you want to be, and you can do it by tomorrow. I'll help."