Skirting The Issue

“Glad to hear it.”

She looked up at him. “What do you know?”

Josh debated—but not for very long—on what to tell her. “I know that he has a rep for changing contract terms close to the meeting date.”

“He can’t.” Sam shook her head. “That’s why it’s called a contract. That’s why there are cancellation clauses and penalties.”

She just wouldn’t think outside the rules’ box. Josh mimed making a phone call. “Federated Nurses? About your 1998 convention, are you still predicting a thousand attendees? You are. I’m afraid there’s a problem on this end. The begonia growers need to change their convention date to the weekend you wanted. They always book three thousand, so we certainly want to accommodate them. Now, if you were guaranteeing even two thousand, I could make a case for you, but I already made you a spectacular deal on the room rates. I know we were the lowest and frankly, there were a few grumbles on this end, so now the board is looking at the profit bottom line, and, well, heh, heh, begonias are just more profitable than nurses. What? Yes, even with the cancellation penalty, which we will certainly pay…no, I’m afraid we can’t cover the cost of reprinting your brochures…well, I could try…if you were willing to renegotiate the contract to make it more attractive—”

“Oh, come on! Ever consider stand-up comedy?” She was still several feet away.

For a reason he didn’t want to examine, Josh wanted her to think better of him than that scuz Harvey. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“Good, ’cause you weren’t.”

“I’m telling you, the guy pulls this stuff all the time. Then the group renegotiates for higher rates because they don’t have the time to find another hotel and it would cost a heck of a lot more if they did—even when they’re paid the penalty according to the contract.”

She didn’t look impressed. “Somebody would have sued by now.”

“How do you know they haven’t? Harvey may not have been with Carrington long enough. I remember when he was with Peabody Hotels and Smith-Hunter before that. Besides, do you think he’d pull that stunt on a group that was likely to sue?”

“I think this sounds like sour grapes on your part.” Sam dropped her arms, turned around, and started walking.

She didn’t believe him!

“Hey!” He jogged to catch up and stopped right in front of her.

Sam stepped to one side and so did Josh. Then, predictably, she went for the other side and he blocked her there, too.

Clearly exasperated, she looked up at him.

This was the closest he’d been to her since…since the Time That Must Be Forgotten. Except he couldn’t forget it.

She’d been new on the circuit. He’d run into her a couple of times before, but this time, they were on his home turf of Chicago. He was feeling expansive; she was pretty and responsive and there, and instead of keeping things his usual cool and light, he’d let them get hot and heavy. When he realized what he’d done, he’d cooled things off with an uncharacteristic lack of finesse, but he had cooled them.

Like straight into ice cube city.

“What is it?” Ms. Icicle froze off each word.

Very quietly, very firmly Josh responded, “Harvey Wannerstein is dishonorable.” It was an old-fashioned word that shouldn’t be old-fashioned, to Josh’s way of thinking.

She blinked. “So you’ve intimated.”

“And I am not.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Oh, for—”

“I’m not.” He held her gaze—once she stopped rolling her eyes.

“No, you’re tricky and slick and underhanded and devious—”

“That’s shrewd, suave, discreet and clever, but above all, when I give my word, I keep it. So don’t think dealing with him is anything like dealing with me.”

They stood there in the deserted hallway staring at each other and as far as Josh was concerned, they’d stay there all day if that’s what it took. Normally he didn’t care what the competition thought of him, but Sam was different. He’d rather she hated him than look at him with contempt.

As she studied him, he was having a couple of second thoughts concerning some of his more creative deals and how they might appear to someone as straitlaced as Sam, when she took a step forward and cuffed him on the shoulder.

“I believe you, you big jerk.”

He grinned with a lot more relief than he wanted to admit. “Now don’t go all mushy on me.”

“Not a chance.”

What a woman. He fought an intense urge to haul her to him and lay one on her. It would be worth the inevitable smack to his jaw. He could manage quite a kiss in the few seconds that surprise would hold her still.

But he didn’t kiss her. “Remember what I said about Wannerstein.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

They walked, side by side, to the Riviera Ballroom. Sam went to the house phone sitting on a sofa table next to the wall. As she spoke into it, Josh opened the ballroom doors.

The place was impressively huge. The thought of it filled with industry professionals who were there to hear him share his knowledge gave Josh an immense feeling of satisfaction. He’d worked hard and now he was being acknowledged as the best.

“If you’ve started a company, then where is it? Your sisters have an office at a law firm. I can go there.”

“People don’t come to me. I go to them.”

“You actually expect people to pay to hear what you have to say? This sounds like one of your father’s slick schemes.”