Drex read the discreet sign on the office door, summoned his courage, and pushed it open. Talia was seated at a desk, looking into a computer monitor. She turned her head with a smile of greeting in place. Upon seeing him, it dissolved.
He stepped into the office and closed the door.
The space was smart yet inviting. Vintage, arte-deco travel posters in matte black frames gave the light gray walls modish splashes
of color. A Palladian window, virtually a wall in itself, overlooked a landscaped courtyard enclosed by ivy-covered brick walls, a burbling fountain in the center. The mix of chic and nostalgic created an environment that he would expect of her.
Her plain white shirt looked anything but plain on her. Sunlight coming through the window backlit her hair, creating a halo of red and gold.
She hadn’t stood up to welcome him, but, since she hadn’t yet picked up the crystal objet d’art on her desk and hurled it at him, he said, “I need help planning a trip.”
“I only work with established clients.”
“You came highly recommended.”
“By whom?”
“Elaine Conner.”
Looking pained, her gaze dropped a fraction.
He put his hands in his pants pockets and strolled over to one of the posters, studying the sleek lines of the artwork as he said, “I heard you escorted her body to Delaware.”
“She stipulated in her will that she wanted to be buried there beside her husband.”
“You saw to the dispersal of her estate to various charities.”
“A while back, she had asked if I would be the executor. I agreed, of course, never guessing…”
When she trailed off, Drex said, “May she rest in peace.”
After a respectful silence, Talia curtly changed the subject. “I heard you pled guilty.”
He turned away from the poster and looked at her. “Who’d you hear that from?”
“Gif.”
“He’s recovered. Almost like new.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “He stopped by to see me before going home to Lexington.”
“Yeah? You two have a nice visit?”
“Very nice. He apologized.”
“For what?”
She gave him a baleful look, which would have caused a less determined man to duck and run. He stayed.
Her desk was a sheet of gray-tinted glass supported by an iron base. Black. The same color as the high heel that was angrily tapping up and down against the floor beneath her chair, where she sat with legs crossed, providing him a six-inch view of thigh above the hemline of her narrow, black skirt.
“Where are you traveling to?”
Her question drew his gaze up from the scenery underneath the desk to her stormy eyes. “Pardon?”
“Where are you going on the trip that you came here to waste my time about?”
“Waste your time?” He thumbed toward the door. “You’re open for business.”