The Real Deal Read Online Free PDF Page A

is stubborn and like I said, his mind doesn’t work like the rest of us. If we want him to hear your presentation, you’ll have to go to him.”
    â€œWon’t you be participating in the meeting?”
    â€œLike Simon said, I’ve seen all the numbers.” Eric stood up. “I can’t really take the time from my schedule for a duplication of effort. You convinced me. I’m sure you can convince Simon and until you do, further meetings on the subject between the two of us would be ineffective.”
    She wasn’t sure of any such thing, but she had no choice other than to try. She couldn’t let Simon Brant unravel her plans and jeopardize her goals. If that meant visiting him at his island home, that’s what she would do.
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    Which was how she found herself breathing in the smell of burning diesel fuel on a ferry bound for a small island in the Puget Sound the next day.
    She’d tried calling Simon to ask him to meet her again in Seattle. According to the crotchety old man that identified himself as Simon’s housekeeper, Simon wasn’t available for phone calls. When she identified herself, she’d been told Simon was expecting her.
    Since he hadn’t so much as given her a time or day for their meeting, she didn’t see how that could be, but apparently Eric was right. Simon didn’t think like other people.
    His housekeeper had told her she was expected for lunch today.
    William Tell’s Overture started chirping away in her purse and she grabbed for her cell phone. Flipping it open, she put it to her ear. “Hello?”
    â€œHey, chicky-poo, how’s it hangin’?”
    â€œJillian. Why aren’t you on the set?”
    â€œWe finished taping early. They wanted to do this sunrise scene. I’ve been up since two-thirty this morning.”
    â€œUh . . . Jill, we live on the West Coast. Sunsets over the ocean are beautiful, sunrises hidden behind LA’s smog and skyline aren’t exactly awe-inspiring.”
    â€œWe did a desert taping, smarty-pants.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œAnyway, I called to say you’ve gotta watch today’s episode. I’ve got amazing dialogue and I emoted with all the energy of Bette Midler.”
    Shoot. “Honey, I’ve got an afternoon appointment and the VCR in my hotel room doesn’t have a timed taping function.” She thought fast. “But my Ti-Vo is saving it for me at my condo. I’ll watch it the minute I get home, I promise.”
    â€œAmanda . . .” Jillian drew her name out for at least six syllables. “I really wanted you to watch this. It’s just the first half of the show. Can’t you sneak away to the bathroom or something and find a television?”
    What would Simon think of taking a thirty-minute break in the middle of their meeting to watch Jillian’s soap opera?
    â€œJill—”
    â€œPlease, Amanda. I haven’t been this excited about my work since I got the job.”
    That was saying a lot. Jillian had had her bit part on the soap for the past six years, longer than Amanda’s marriage had lasted. She was a regular, if not a star.
    â€œOkay, I’ll try.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this. “But I can’t promise anything.”
    â€œThanks, hon! You’re the best friend a girl could have. Have I told you that lately?”
    â€œNot in the last week, no,” Amanda said, laughing. Jillian had always been there for her. Through a disastrous two-year marriage and an ugly divorce that took a year to finalize, she’d been a rock in Amanda’s life. “But listen, if I can’t watch it, can you Fed-Ex me the tape?”
    â€œThe way I feel today, I’d fly the tape up to you to watch myself if I didn’t have to work tomorrow and Friday.”
    Jillian was right. Amanda hadn’t heard this much enthusiasm in her friend’s voice concerning her work in