Spin Control Read Online Free PDF Page B

know,
when this meeting is done, I'm leaving for a big, fattening, fancy lunch and I'm not coming back until tomorrow morning."
    "That sounds pretty desperate"

    "The situation is pretty desperate"
    "I don't think so" He stepped closer to me. "I think
we've got a plan and a good approach. I think we'll do
fine. Either way, I'm tagging along with you to your
big, fattening, fancy lunch."
    I gave a humorless laugh. "Trust me, as soon as
Devin figures out what we're talking about, he's going
to be ticked off and gone, pretty much in that order."
    "I'm not so sure. I think he'll stay, if only to try to
make himself look good"
    "Wait, wasn't I the one who dated him?"
    "True, but I'm betting he's going to stay"
    "You serious about that?"
    He blinked. "Why? What do you have in mind?"
    "I think Devin is going to storm out of the meeting
and I'm willing to make a bet on it. If he stays, I have to
buy your meal. If he goes, you are picking up my entire
bill. Overpriced hors d'oeuvres and all." I grinned confidently because there was no doubt in my mind how
this meeting would end. Whenever Devin didn't get his
way or didn't know how to handle an adverse situation,
he left the room. Toward the end of our relationship,
Devin and I had been discussing what movie to see.
Devin wanted an action flick; I wanted a comedy. When
I pointed out to him that the last three movies we had
watched had been action-oriented, Devin turned his
back on me, walked out of my apartment, and didn't
talk to me for three days.
    "It's a deal," Michael said as he shook my hand
firmly. A soft hand, yet still masculine.
    I broke from the handshake and smoothed my skirt. "Now if you'll excuse me, Michael, I have some notes
that I must blankly stare at" As I sat down at my desk, I
watched Michael leave my office. I could not wait to win
our bet so I could show him what girls from the Midwest
really do for grins: eat till we can't see-and watch the
boys pick up the tab. I giggled girlishly. This was going
to be fun. Michael? Fun? What an interesting concept.

    "It's showtime." Gwen peered into my office as I applied powder to my face. "This isn't a beauty contest,
Brown. Devin and Fox are going to be here in five minutes, so pack up your girlie stuff and get in the main
conference room."
    When I first started at Gwen's firm, I teared up each
time she barked orders like this one. But over the years,
I learned that Gwen's drill-sergeant demeanor was how
she channeled her stress. With that, I looked up from
my compact and saluted-okay, more like shielded
myself from her blinding yellow suit and matching
pumps. Gwen shook her head and walked toward the
meeting room.
    An eerie, rather unnatural calm had set over me
about twenty minutes earlier. I gathered my materials
and walked briskly toward the conference room. There
sat Michael, Gwen, and Fox, but no Devin. I set my
handful of papers and folders on the cherry-wood table
and walked toward Fox. Gwen stood up to introduce us.
"Fox, this is Kate Brown. Kate, Fox Underhill."
    I was reminded how Devin got his striking features.
Fox was about six-foot-three with silver hair contrasting tanned skin, presumably from all his travels. His blue eyes were a shade darker than his son's; they offered a sense of genuineness, but you could tell they
meant business.

    I'd had a similar reaction to Fox the last-and
only-time I met him. Devin needed to stop at his father's downtown penthouse, and I had to practically beg
to come in with him. When I entered the apartment, I
maintained my awe as best I could. It was more impressive than Devin's Park Avenue abode, and I thought that
was a jaw-dropper. But there in Fox's home, I was experiencing a completely different lifestyle.
    The living room alone, which was the only part of
Fox's home I saw, looked like a museum. The floors,
Devin later told me, were made of wood imported from
Africa. An eighteenth-century French writing table
with bronze