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“Baby, that’s right.”

Buoyed, they rode up to the lobby.

Sonya remembered it from her previous work for Ryder as steeped in tradition. The Ryder logo flew behind a small reception counter; the tile floors in a soft, smoky gray worked well with pale blue walls. Two navy chairs flanked a table, and over it hung a portrait of the founder.

Sonya signed in, then, as directed, they took the elevator to the seventh floor.

As they rode up to seven, Cleo hummed “Woman” and made Sonya laugh.

“It’s the day you’ve been working for, my friend.”

“It is, and I want it, Cleo, but I realize it’s not the alpha and omega for me. Visual Art is doing just fine. I’m doing just fine. More than fine. And realizing that takes some of the edge off.”

“Whatever works.”

As they stepped off the elevator, a Ryder staff member greeted them. “Ms. MacTavish. I’m Lauren Cooper. I’ll escort you to the conference room, assist you in setting up.”

“Thanks. Ms. Fabares will be working with me today.”

“Good to meet you both. If you’ll come with me.”

As they started along the hall, bright with windows, with framed displays of various Ryder equipment between, Brandon Wise strode down.

He wore a sharp navy pin-striped suit (thank God she hadn’t gone with the navy), crisp white dress shirt—they’d have French cuffs, she knew, with monograms—and a navy-and-burgundy-striped tie done in a double Windsor. His oxfords exactly matched the dark brown leather of his briefcase.

His blond hair, perfectly styled to suit his smooth “no, I’m not a movie star, but I look like one” face, caught glints from the sun streaming through the windows.

His smile, all charm, spread like the sunlight.

“Mr. Wise, I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“On my way out now, Lauren. Miranda and I started chatting after the rest of the team left, and time got away from me. Hello, Sonya. You look… well.”

“Thank you. I am.”

He gave Cleo the slightest nod. “Cleo.”

She gave him one right back. “Asshole.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t quite fall.

“So how are things in the backwoods of Maine?”

“It’s on the coast, and it’s lovely. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

“If I could have just one minute. Lauren can show your… assistant where to take your supplies.”

“One’s all I have to spare. I’ll be right behind you, Cleo. It’s fine,” she added.

“Let me take those for you.” Sending Sonya a look of apology, Lauren took what Sonya carried. “The conference room is at the end of the hall.”

“Yes, I remember.” As they walked away, Sonya glanced at the watch she rarely wore. “Minute starts now.”

“The hardcase act doesn’t suit you,” he said lightly. “Looks like you’ve put on a little weight. Trying to run your own little company, and away from the action? Can’t blame you for stress eating.”

“I haven’t, and I’m enjoying freelancing. If you want to take your minute to comment on my appearance—”

“Touchy, but you always were. I thought it only fair to let you know, I’ve got this account sewn up. Miranda just confirmed it. I understand Burt has a… let’s be delicate here and say a fondness for you, and pushed to give you this exposure. But I’ve got the account, and that shouldn’t be a surprise.”