business she would miss.
She waited.
“My colleagues down in Baton Rouge are watching a little too closely,” he said. “How soon do you expect to drill?”
“That depends on the landowners,” she said mildly.
“Those crazy artists can’t hold out forever.” Slattery punctuated the sentence with a smug smile. “You’ll be the perfect person to handle their attorney.”
“I understood they didn’t intend to retain counsel.” She kept her voice steady, although her mind was whirling. The addition of an attorney would likely make the deal harder—but thankfully that part of this mess didn’t involve her.
“Someone convinced them they needed a lawyer to get a better deal.” Slattery gave a slight shake of his head. “You may get a little trouble out of him.”
“Sounds interesting.”
The faint vibrating noise of a cell phone interrupted them, but before she could check her purse, Slattery pulled his phone from inside his jacket. He glanced at the screen and back at her.
“Excuse me,” he said, grabbing a drink from the bar as he passed. “I need to take this.”
As he walked away, Camille stepped into the living room and forced her attention to the handful of polished guests. Most people threw her openly curious looks, but no one approached. She kept her expression neutral.
The only noise in the room came from a cluster of men in a nearby corner, most in suits and ties. Each held a drink, and a few nibbled on hors d’oeuvres. The group argued loudly about the prospects of a bowl game for the LSU Tigers, with the occasional diatribe against the University of Alabama.
Crown molding and antique furnishings accented the space around them, with original art sprinkled throughout. While Camille didn’t covet the diamonds many of the women wore, she would love her choice of the paintings.
“Would you care for a drink?” Larry, she thought his name was, appeared so quietly that she started.
“Maybe later. Thanks.”
He studied her for a long moment, his eyes intense, before moving back into the crowd, a tray of full wine glasses in his hands.
As she glanced back into the dining room, Slattery stepped out of a door near an enormous china cabinet, pocketing his phone with a scowl. While greeting guests, he looked past them until he saw her.
He switched on a smile and steamed her way, stopping only long enough to say something to Larry.
“Sorry for abandoning you,” Slattery said as he neared. “Stephens wanted to clear up a thing or two.”
“Stephens?” Camille hated the wary note in her voice. She hadn’t regained her confidence since the misstep two weeks ago.
“That man says you can get ink on a deal better than anyone he ever saw.”
“He’s full of it.”
Slattery let out a loud laugh. “He assures me you’ll have this cleared up in a week or less.”
She certainly hoped so. Even a few days in Samford, with its painful memories and her uncle’s good-old-boy network, would be too long.
She was spared a reply, though, when a burst of laughter erupted from the men across the room. Slattery gripped her elbow and propelled her in their direction. “Here’s the person who can get you those Sugar Bowl tickets, fellows,” he said as the circle widened to let them in.
Man after man welcomed her, sounding like a chamber-of-commerce roster. Real estate. Ophthalmologist. City official. Each murmured his name and job, going around the circle.
“Camille’s a production specialist for J&S,” Slattery said, as though he had personally recruited her. “One of the best.”
“No land deals tonight.” She watched the men inspect her. “J&S just wants to say thanks.”
“The good senator sure knows how to get things done,” the eye doctor said. “He was plenty hot after that national TV report a couple of weeks back.”
Her face grew hot. “That was unfortunate, wasn’t it?”
Chapter 2
C amille drew a relieved breath when the party’s attention shifted away from her,
She waited.
“My colleagues down in Baton Rouge are watching a little too closely,” he said. “How soon do you expect to drill?”
“That depends on the landowners,” she said mildly.
“Those crazy artists can’t hold out forever.” Slattery punctuated the sentence with a smug smile. “You’ll be the perfect person to handle their attorney.”
“I understood they didn’t intend to retain counsel.” She kept her voice steady, although her mind was whirling. The addition of an attorney would likely make the deal harder—but thankfully that part of this mess didn’t involve her.
“Someone convinced them they needed a lawyer to get a better deal.” Slattery gave a slight shake of his head. “You may get a little trouble out of him.”
“Sounds interesting.”
The faint vibrating noise of a cell phone interrupted them, but before she could check her purse, Slattery pulled his phone from inside his jacket. He glanced at the screen and back at her.
“Excuse me,” he said, grabbing a drink from the bar as he passed. “I need to take this.”
As he walked away, Camille stepped into the living room and forced her attention to the handful of polished guests. Most people threw her openly curious looks, but no one approached. She kept her expression neutral.
The only noise in the room came from a cluster of men in a nearby corner, most in suits and ties. Each held a drink, and a few nibbled on hors d’oeuvres. The group argued loudly about the prospects of a bowl game for the LSU Tigers, with the occasional diatribe against the University of Alabama.
Crown molding and antique furnishings accented the space around them, with original art sprinkled throughout. While Camille didn’t covet the diamonds many of the women wore, she would love her choice of the paintings.
“Would you care for a drink?” Larry, she thought his name was, appeared so quietly that she started.
“Maybe later. Thanks.”
He studied her for a long moment, his eyes intense, before moving back into the crowd, a tray of full wine glasses in his hands.
As she glanced back into the dining room, Slattery stepped out of a door near an enormous china cabinet, pocketing his phone with a scowl. While greeting guests, he looked past them until he saw her.
He switched on a smile and steamed her way, stopping only long enough to say something to Larry.
“Sorry for abandoning you,” Slattery said as he neared. “Stephens wanted to clear up a thing or two.”
“Stephens?” Camille hated the wary note in her voice. She hadn’t regained her confidence since the misstep two weeks ago.
“That man says you can get ink on a deal better than anyone he ever saw.”
“He’s full of it.”
Slattery let out a loud laugh. “He assures me you’ll have this cleared up in a week or less.”
She certainly hoped so. Even a few days in Samford, with its painful memories and her uncle’s good-old-boy network, would be too long.
She was spared a reply, though, when a burst of laughter erupted from the men across the room. Slattery gripped her elbow and propelled her in their direction. “Here’s the person who can get you those Sugar Bowl tickets, fellows,” he said as the circle widened to let them in.
Man after man welcomed her, sounding like a chamber-of-commerce roster. Real estate. Ophthalmologist. City official. Each murmured his name and job, going around the circle.
“Camille’s a production specialist for J&S,” Slattery said, as though he had personally recruited her. “One of the best.”
“No land deals tonight.” She watched the men inspect her. “J&S just wants to say thanks.”
“The good senator sure knows how to get things done,” the eye doctor said. “He was plenty hot after that national TV report a couple of weeks back.”
Her face grew hot. “That was unfortunate, wasn’t it?”
Chapter 2
C amille drew a relieved breath when the party’s attention shifted away from her,
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