Places In My Heart. Sheryl Lister

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       Chapter 2

      Morgan sat at her desk Monday morning, poring over the information she had been given on the lawsuit. “Not good, not good,” she muttered. A sixty-one-year-old woman had suffered a fractured hip, a broken wrist and a multitude of bruises and contusions. She groaned and lowered her head to the desk. Why me, Daddy?

      “You okay, Morgan?”

      Her head snapped up. “Hey, Brandon.”

      Her brother Brandon entered and folded his tall body into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “What’s wrong?”

      She pointed at the stack of papers in front of her. “This doesn’t look good for us. Did you see the list of all Mrs. Sanderson’s injuries?”

      His lips settled in a grim line. “I did, but this has never happened before. We tested and retested those rails before they went to market, and I can’t believe one just...just broke.”

      “Me, either, but until I can get a look at it, this is all I have to go on.”

      “What do you mean? You haven’t gotten the rail yet?”

      Morgan shook her head. “I requested it and the original packaging, as well as the purchase receipt. As soon as I get it, I’ll know more. Of course, their lawyer is insisting a neutral third party be present to make sure I don’t tamper with the evidence.” Clay Porter reminded her of one of those slick attorneys only out to make money for themselves.

      Brandon’s brow lifted. “He said that to you?”

      “Yes. He’s a pompous ass. At our first meeting, the first thing he said to me was, ‘Can you bring everyone some coffee, honey?’ I told him I’d ask my secretary to handle it. He had the nerve to laugh when he found out I was handling the case and mumbled something that sounded like it would be his easiest case. It took everything I had not to slap that smug smile off his face.”

      “I can make sure one of the more experienced attorneys attends the next meeting if you want.” Brandon headed up the home safety division of the company and was in line to take over as CEO once their father retired. The company had a smaller division that focused on gym equipment that her brother Khalil designed to make his fitness center more accessible.

      “I thought about that at first, but no, thanks. I’ll take care of it myself.” No way would she let that old weasel intimidate her. “Are we still getting a lot of negative press?”

      “Not as much as in the first couple of weeks. But I’ll be glad when Siobhan gets back.” Siobhan was the PR director and had a way of handling the press unlike anything they had ever seen.

      “Me, too. She left Melvin Wilkins in charge, didn’t she?”

      “Yeah. And Gordon has been in my office four times in the last week complaining since she’s been gone.” Gordon Samuels worked as a media specialist and had expected to be promoted over Siobhan when the previous director retired. He had been a thorn in Siobhan’s side ever since.

      Morgan laughed. “I know he was pissed that she didn’t leave him in control, especially since Melvin is what, twenty-five, twenty-six, and has been here only two years. Well, if Gordon wasn’t still stuck in the nineties, he might’ve had a chance at the job.”

      Brandon smiled. “Yeah, right. We all knew that Vonnie would get the job.” He stood and walked to the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

      “I will. Thanks.” Left alone again, she smiled. Her brothers could be a pain in the butt sometimes, but she wouldn’t have traded them for the world.

      She studied the case for the rest of the afternoon, making notes and flagging the spots where she had questions. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something didn’t add up. Glancing up at the wall clock, she frowned. “I can’t believe it’s almost five already.” Morgan leaned back, rotated her chair toward the window and stretched. Her brain was fried and she wanted to go home. But she had to meet with her friend Brooke tonight to finalize their dance production. Brooke Alexander had been Morgan’s best friend since ninth grade, when they both had parts in the school’s spring dance production. While Morgan had changed directions and opted for law school, Brooke had pursued a successful dance career until injuries from a car accident forced her to quit. With her family’s backing, she had opened a thriving dance studio two years ago.

      “Somebody’s here to see you.”

      Morgan counted to ten then slowly turned her chair to face the woman standing in her door. The thirty-something administrative assistant had not been happy when she’d been reassigned from one of the senior attorneys to Morgan and, unless the two men were watching, took every opportunity to disrespect Morgan. Like entering the office without calling on the intercom or knocking.

      “What can I do for you, Evelyn?”

      Evelyn’s jaw tightened at Morgan’s irritated tone. “There’s someone here to see you.”

      “Who is it?”

      “He didn’t say, and it’s time for me to leave,” Evelyn said impatiently.

      Morgan slowly rose to her feet and braced her hands on the desk. Leaning forward, she said with a controlled tone, “Let’s get something straight. You don’t have to like me, but you will respect me. Before entering my office, you will use the intercom or knock. I’d hate to have to report you to Mr. Klein. Are we clear?” The woman visibly blanched. Mr. Klein headed the legal department. Morgan smiled. “Now, please show the gentleman in and have a nice evening.”

      Evelyn gave Morgan a frosty glare and exited.

      She lowered her head and drew in several calming breaths.

      “Morgan?”

      Morgan went still. It couldn’t be. Yet when she lifted her head, her gaze collided with the one man she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

      * * *

      Omar knew he had taken a risk showing up at Morgan’s office, but he was desperate. It had taken a lot to persuade Malcolm to share his sister’s information, especially since Omar had declined to say what had happened between them. He’d toyed with calling first, but changed his mind because he didn’t want to chance her refusing to see him. The woman seated outside Morgan’s office, whom he assumed was the assistant, greeted him with a wide smile and an exaggerated sway of her hips as she led him to the office. Omar ignored the not-so-subtle brush of her breasts against his arm when she turned to leave. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the slight rise in Morgan’s eyebrow and knew she’d seen it, too. He waited until the woman closed the door before turning to face Morgan.

      Morgan folded her arms. “What are you doing here?”

      “Hello to you, too,” he said.

      An embarrassed expression crossed her face. “Sorry. Have a seat.”