We wouldn't want people to be at their ease now, would we? she thought bitterly.
She'd never known a den of authority—social services, a principal's office, an unemployment line—to offer comfort. Still, she'd thought the man had more style than to choose such a cold, formal setting for his work.
The secretary behind the polished reception-area desk was young, bright-eyed and, Savannah was sure, fiercely efficient. The quick greeting smile she sent in Savannah's direction was carefully empty of curiosity and perfectly balanced between warm and cool.
Savannah had no idea Sissy was curdling with envy inside.
"Yes, Mr. Brill, I'll see that he gets your message. You're welcome. Goodbye." Wondering just where the mystery visitor had come across that terrific jacket, all sweeping lines and bold colors, Sissy hung up the phone and aimed her most professional smile.
"Good afternoon. May I help you?"
"I'd like to see Mr. MacKade."
"Do you have an appointment?" Sissy knew very well she did not. Jared's schedule was filed in her brain right alongside her own.
"No, I was..." Damn, she hated this. "I was in town, and I thought I'd take a chance he'd be free for a minute."
"I'm afraid he's in conference, Ms___"
"Morningstar." Of course he was in conference, Savannah thought nastily. Where else was a lawyer when he wasn't on the putting green but in conference? "Then I'd like to leave a message."
The name Morningstar rang all sorts of bells in Sissy's brain. It had been said through gritted teeth that morning, when Jared dictated a briskly formal letter with all kinds of interesting hums between the lines.
"Certainly. If it's personal, you could write it down and I'll... Oh." Sissy beamed at her phone. "Mr. MacKade's just finished his conference call, I see. Why don't I buzz him, see if he can squeeze you in?"
"Fine, great." Restless, Savannah turned away to pace.
Sissy decided that if she grew six inches in height, filled out several more in the right places, she might just look that impressive on the move.
"Mr. MacKade, there's a Ms. Morningstar to see you, if you have a moment. Yes, sir, she's in the office now. Yes, sir." Careful to keep her lips from sliding into a smile, Sissy hung up the phone. "He'll see you, Ms. Morningstar. It's right up those stairs and to the left. First door."
"Thanks." Savannah turned toward the short curve of stairs, put one hand on the pristine white rail and climbed.
Must have been a town house at one time, she decided. Or a duplex. Though she wouldn't have called the place homey, Savannah admitted it had class—if you went in for snooty and nondescript.
There was a short hallway at the top of the steps, a print of a spray of white orchids in a white vase that was so soulless and ordinary it offended her artist's eye, and two doors facing each other.
She strode to the one on the left, rapped once and opened it.
Of course he'd look terrific in charcoal gray, she thought. A lot better than the office did, with its dull grays and punishing whites. Someone should tell him work was more pleasant in an environment with a little color and life.
But it wouldn't be her.
He rose, elegant in his three-piece suit and carefully knotted tie. A tie he'd just jerked back into place. She thought, with an inner sense of rebellion, that he looked like more of a lawyer than ever.
"Ms. Morningstar." He inclined his head. He thought that her stepping into the room was like having some brilliant bolt of lightning strike a placid pond. "Have a seat."
"It won't take long." She remained standing, stubbornly. "I appreciate you taking the time to see me."
"I had the time." To illustrate the point, he moved a file from the center of his desk to the side, and sat. "What can I do for you?"
In answer, she pulled papers out of her purse, tossed them on his desk. "I signed them, in triplicate, and had them notarized." Her driver's license landed with a plop on top of the papers. "That's my ID." She threw in her social security card for good measure. "I don't have a birth certificate."
"Mm-hmm..." Taking his time, Jared pulled brown horn-rims out of his jacket pocket and slipped them on to study the papers.
Savannah stared at him, swallowed hard. It didn't seem to matter that she told herself it was ridiculous. Her heart had skipped a beat. He looked gorgeous, intellectually sexy, in those damn glasses. And made her feel like a fumbling fool.
"It's all in order," she began.