“Oh wow.” Faith didn’t have to fake being impressed that time. “Did you get to meet him?”
The man stopped walking so quickly she almost tripped over him.
“I sat next to him at dinner.” He straightened a snowy shirt cuff and lifted his chin to stare into the middle distance. “He wasmagnificent.”
“I bet,” she murmured. So the guy was a name-dropper. She could work with that. “Is meeting celebrities pretty common in the foundation world, Mister…. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” She smiled up at him, and his eyes did another disapproving sweep down her body before he answered.
“Carlisle Lockhart.”
Of course that was his name, and of course having an actual conversation with her hadn’t wiped the disgust off his face. But he smoothly shifted into motion again, and she dutifully followed.
“For a company as large as Digham, yes. We often have featured guests at the foundation’s annual gala.”
“That must be amazing for your employees, Mr. Lockhart.” Time to bend this back around to what she needed. “And you said the community grant manager’s new? He must be excited to mingle with celebrities.”
She’d fully slipped into her corporate pandering mode. Guys like this usually ate it up, but he just puckered up his mouth like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Doubtful. He’s extremely focused on more… local issues.”
Local issues seemed like exactly what the community grant guy should be doing, but Faith knew better than to argue. Fingers crossed the person she was here to talk to would be less of a prick.
When they arrived at the door to a suite that housed the foundation offices, Faith turned to Carlisle with her brightest smile. “Thank you so much for telling me a little about your work, Mr. Lockhart. You’re doing such important things here!”
This time she channeled her mother, who never met a king of capitalism she couldn’t charm. Then again her mother didn’t usually have to do said charming in a faded Chicago Cubs T-shirt. But Carlisle Lockhart at least had the good manners to hold open the door for her rather than letting it slam in her face, so she straightened her shorts to keep them from drifting into wedgie territory and followed him into the suite. Behind one of those closed doors was the person who had the power to save her or sink her.
“Darla,” he said to the steely-eyed, silvery-haired woman at the reception desk in the center of the waiting area, “this young woman has some questions. Can you get her sorted?”
That handled, Carlisle offered her one last oily smile, then disappeared into the corner office, leaving Faith alone with Darla, who was at least more welcoming than her boss.
“Hi,” Faith said. “I need to speak with someone about the community grant.”
Darla’s pink-lipsticked mouth turned down sympathetically. “I’m so sorry. The deadline was noon today.”
“I know.” Faith shifted her purse up her shoulder and tried to sound just-us-girls conspiratorial. “That’s actually why I’m here. I had tech problems with my submission, and I was hoping to speak with the person in charge.”
The admin’s eyes strayed to the closed door on her far left. “He’s in his office at the moment, but I don’t know if that’s—”
“Please?” Faith shifted the purse again. Her bulky old laptop weighed aton. “I’m sure if I just explain, he’d be willing to work with me.”
The sky-high lift of Darla’s eyebrows spoke volumes as she picked up her phone to place a call. “Mr. Morales, I have someone here to see you.” Her eyes cut to Faith’s outfit. “Yes, I will.” She hung up. “Have a seat. He’ll be right out.”
She gestured at the small sofa to the side of her desk, and Faith sank onto it, grateful to set her bag down. But she only had a few moments to go over her strategy before the office door Darla had indicated flew open and the unseen inhabitant barked, “Come in.”
The abrupt tone startled her to her feet, and she glanced at Darla.
“Good luck,” the other woman said with a small chuckle that put absolutely none of Faith’s nerves at ease.
As she took a step forward, a few thoughts hit her at once.
Carlisle Lockhart’s new employee. Leo’s unexpected appearance in Beaucoeur. That growly voice. Mr. Morales.
Surely not.Surely not.
She turned to Darla to whisper, “What’s Mr. Morales’s first name?” just as a figure filled the doorway in her peripheral vision. She turned her head slowly, and when the broad-shouldered man came into view, her worst, wildest suspicions were confirmed.
Leo. In a suit and looking unbearably good—other than the horror on his face as he stared at her.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he gritted out.
Welp. There was absolutely no way she’d be getting an extension on that deadline now.
