Angelica shut off the water, stepped onto the bath mat and toweled herself dry. Not that it was her fault. Change was never easy, especially when you were dealing with a bunch of men who thought the world had been a better place when wagon trains were still rolling across the plains.
She had to make the Landon rep understand what had happened here, that she’d been defeated not by her lack of ability but by the enormity of the job that needed doing. After all, this man would speak her language. He’d understand flow charts and team leadership and employee-generated goals, all the things that were needed to make a success of Gordon Oil.
Her spirits lifted. She leaned forward and wiped the foggy mirror with the heel of her hand. Her face peered back at her, a pale oval pierced by wide-spaced green eyes.
“Approach this meeting positively,” she said crisply, “and it will be a success!”
Quickly, she blew her hair dry, determinedly ignoring the curling tendrils that sprang up as quickly as she brushed them flat. Her hair was impossible, both in color and texture. She’d tried everything to tame it over the years, from shearing it off with a pair of scissors when she was twelve to dyeing it a shade euphemistically called Mahogany Glory her freshman year at college.
Nothing worked. Cutting it short only meant she couldn’t subdue the curls with barrettes or clips, and darkening the color had made the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her small, straight nose seem to leap off her face.
Angelica’s spirits dipped just a little. This was not the hair of an efficient executive, she thought, staring at her reflection. Already, bright copper curls were springing up around her face and falling in a wild tumble over her shoulders.
How could a woman with two degrees, a serious nature and the responsibility of running a company have been given hair like this?
With a sigh, she scooped the curls from her face and secured them at the nape of her neck with a coated rubber band. Then, head high, she marched into the bedroom.
What did her hair matter? She had a presentation to make to the man from Landon’s, one that would convince him to give her more time to drag Gordon Oil into the modern world, she was sure of it.
Almost sure, she amended, and sighed.
She stepped into a brown wool skirt, slipped on a white blouse, buttoned it to the Peter Pan collar and topped it with an oatmeal tweed jacket. She hesitated only over the shoes. She was tall for a woman, five foot eight in her stocking feet. Even in her sensible pumps, she might end up taller than her visitor.
Would he find that intimidating?
She’d wear flats and play it safe. The last thing she wanted to do was get on the Landon rep’s bad side.
At last, she turned and looked at herself in the mirror.
Efficient, she thought, nodding her head. Very efficient.
Angelica glanced at the clock, rolled her eyes and snatched her briefcase from the top of the bureau. She hurried through the little house that had been her father’s, out the front door to her small, late-model sedan parked at the curb.
A gentle breeze played at her hair, helping to ease the wisps of copper that were already bouncing lightly against her forehead and cheeks. Unconsciously, she stuck out her bottom lip and blew the stray curls back.
“OK, Landon Enterprises,” she said as she got behind the wheel, “I’m ready!”
So armed, Angelica Gordon carefully checked both her side and rearview mirrors, flicked on her signal light and pulled out into the street.
* * *
At noon, Angelica cleared her desk and gave strict instructions to Emily, her secretary and all-purpose gofer. The representative was due in an hour. Emily was to greet him, seat him in the one nonrickety chair in the waiting room, then immediately inform Angelica of his arrival.
“Then bring us some coffee, please, Emily, if you don’t mind. I know I normally get my own—you know how I feel about equality in the workplace, but—”
“It’s not a problem, A.H.”
“Thank you. And, oh—be sure and hold all my calls.”
By two, Angelica was pacing her tiny office, wearing furrows in the already threadbare carpet.
At two-thirty, she stepped into the anteroom and looked at Emily.
“Are you sure the fax said he would be here at one?”
Emily shrugged. “That’s what it said, all right. It took two tries for it to come through—the phone company cut off service in the middle but I went out to the booth on the corner, called the business office and explained—”
“—that their check was in the mail,” Angelica said impatiently. “But the fax was specific, is that correct? We did get a message saying he was coming in today on the flight from Denver?”
“Uh-huh. And before you ask, I already checked with the airport. The flight came in on time.”
Angelica’s green eyes narrowed just a little. “Did it?”
“Maybe his taxi’s stuck in traffic.”
And maybe she was being taught her place in the scheme of things, Angelica thought, but she forced the idea out of her mind.
It was important to greet the man in a positive frame of mind.
“You’re right,” she said. “Traffic from the airport can be awful. We’ll just wait.”
There was no sense in wasting even more of the day than she already had. With a sigh, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk, took out the letters, bills and odds and ends she’d dumped into it and spread them across her blotter.
Maybe if she kept busy working, time would pass more quickly. She could clear the desk again easily enough once Emily announced her visitor’s arrival.
At three, Angelica shoved back her chair. So much for being treated with dignity—and so much for hoping Landon Enterprises would agree to give her more time to prove herself. She was going to be fired, that was obvious, but first she was going to have a ration of crow shoved down her throat.
She stood up and marched to the door.
“When the gentleman finally arrives,” she told Emily in clipped tones, “tell him I’m busy. Sit him down, hand him today’s paper and let him wait ten or fifteen minutes before you ring me.”
Emily’s brows lifted. “You sure you want me to do that?”
“It’s a simple reverse power play, Emily. The man is establishing his dominance, so I’ll have to make it clear that I don’t see myself in a subordinat
e role.” Her smile was tight. “It’s not a problem, I assure you.”
At four, Angelica stabbed the button on her intercom, folded her hands on her desk blotter and waited.
Emily came hurrying into the office. “A.H.,” she said, “I was just going to—”
“I know it’s pointless to let myself get angry,” Angelica said, very, very calmly, “especially since I know he may be doing this to try and unnerve me, but—”
“A.H., listen-”
“—but,” Angelica said, shoving back her chair and rising to her feet, “who in hell does this human hatchet think he is?”
“Oh, A.H., please, don’t say such things. You—”
“I know. I know.” Angelica took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. “I should not let this upset me. I should consider what his motives might be.” Her eyes snapped to Emily’s. “How dare he?” she asked. “Of course, I’m not surprised. Anyone who would work for an outfit like Landon’s can’t care too much about decency or morality. Those people are sharks, Emily, they’re hyenas who smell blood and come hurrying in for the kill.”
Emily groaned softly. “ A. H.—”
“If and when the weasel gets here, tell him I got tired of waiting and I’ve left for the day.”
“No! A.H.-”
“I know you think I ought to wait for the man, Emily, but it’s important I not let those people get away with this. If they think I’m going to let them intimidate me—”
“I can’t imagine that anyone could do that, Miss Gordon,” a deep voice said.
Angelica spun around. There was a man in the doorway. He had a square jaw, a dimpled chin and a nose that was just enough off-center to give his incredibly handsome face interest. He was tall, broadshouldered, impeccably dressed in a pale gray suit, white shirt and blue and red striped tie—a picture of customtailored elegance, forever spoiled by the mirror-bright black boots peeping out from under his trouser cuffs.
“I beg your pardon,” she said coldly. “This is a private office. If you have business here—”
“Just what, pray tell, is a human hatchet, Miss Gordon?” A smile so arrogant it bordered on insult tilted the corner of his mouth. “It’s an interesting description but I’m afraid I can’t quite get the image.”