“She’s in love with you. I understand your feelings, but think about it.”
She gazed into eyes that were darker blue than her own. Dylan was a good graphic artist and they had helped each other in years past on projects. She hated to see him hurt and she thought the Ryders were being ghastly about him.
“What about you and Tony Ryder?” Dylan asked. “Have you seen him yet? Does he remember you?”
“Yes and yes. He remembers me and he wants me to stay with Ryder Enterprises.”
“You’re damn good at what you do. You’ve built that department. Will you?”
She shook her head. “The department will never be the same. I don’t want to stay. There’s no future with Tony.”
“I don’t blame you. If I could do it over—” He paused to think and shook his head. “I’d still want to know Sydney. I love her and you can’t turn that off. Not the last-forever kind of love.”
“Dylan, I’m so sorry. They should be delighted with you.”
He smiled. “Thanks. I naively thought they would at least be friendly to me. They aren’t even that. I’m not supposed to set foot in their house.”
“This goes from bad to worse,” she remarked. “What a family. Maybe you don’t want to marry into it. Do you know Sydney really, really well?”
“I love her with all my heart. Enough to get out of her life and avoid causing her heartache.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a solution for you, except to urge you to rethink walking away from the woman you love and who loves you. Think about what’s important. Think about what Sydney wants.”
Dylan smiled briefly at her, and they got up to head out. As they walked toward the door, he said, “No one has a good solution, but thanks for listening. Be careful with Tony if he wants you to go out with him. You could end up in a dilemma with his family. Sydney said they have women picked out for him.”
Isabelle laughed. “Don’t worry. There’s no danger. Tony Ryder is in love with his work. He’s married to his job. I don’t ever want to tie my life to someone who puts work first over family. I saw that happen with one of my friend’s family when I was growing up and it was dreadful.
“True love is a precious thing. Think about it, Dylan, before you do something drastic.”
“I’m thinking, but I always come back to the same solution. I love her and want what’s best for her.”
“I hope she appreciates the kind of person you are. It sounds as if she does. Don’t rush into a breakup, Dylan. That’s my two cents’ worth.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you about this.”
“Keep in touch and let me know what’s happening,” she said, going to her car as Dylan headed to his.
“You do the same,” he called, walking backward. “If you change jobs, please let me know.”
“I will,” she called, climbing into her car, moving by rote while she thought about what she had learned from Dylan. She didn’t want to be involved with Tony in any manner.
One more strike against getting to know Tony Ryder any better. His family would be no more happy with her than they were with Dylan. At least Tony had stood by his sister. Isabelle had to admire him for that.
Sunday afternoon, she looked at her wardrobe to select what she would wear to the Monday interview. Certain she would soon leave Morris, she decided to wear something both professional and a little less buttoned up than usual, something more on the appealing side. Her conservative suits were shades of blue, gray, brown and black, innocuous, all business, hopefully authoritative to offset her age and pale blond hair. Although she was five feet eight inches tall, she wore high heels. She rummaged through her choices, pushing aside the suits to withdraw three dresses, which she tried on in succession.
Tony had forgotten her before and he would again, but she wanted him to notice her Monday and remember her after she was gone from his company. She had to stop thinking of it as Morris and recognize that it was now Ryder Enterprises, a name that gave her a bitter feeling because of Tony and their past, as well as having loved the Morris company the way it had been. Mentally, she had mapped out a rosy future with Morris and then Tony Ryder had brought it crashing down. Unfair a little, because Mr. Morris was also responsible by retiring and selling out.
She finally decided on a deep blue dress with a short jacket and a straight skirt that had a slit on one side. The low-cut square neckline revealed curves while the whole dress clung to her figure. She had matching pumps that would complete her ensemble. Eager to resign and move on with her life, she looked forward to the interview.
Monday morning she was ushered into the elegant office that had always belonged to a Morris. The thick carpet muffled any footsteps while the early morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling across the balcony and into the room. She imagined a smiling Mr. Morris sitting at his broad mahogany desk. Instead, it was Tony, vibrant, commanding, sexy enough to transform what was usually a purely business atmosphere into an electrified ambience. Smiling, he stood, coming around his desk to greet her while another man remained beside a leather chair. A brunette who had been sitting nearby stood.
“Good morning, Isabelle,” Tony said, taking her hand to shake it briefly. The moment they touched, her already racing pulse gave another spurt. She withdrew her hand swiftly. His brown eyes were friendly. Unruly black locks curled on his forehead, an unwanted reminder of being in his arms and combing them back from his face.
Instantly, she tried to concentrate on the interview ahead, but when she met Tony’s gaze, there was a mocking look, as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking.
He could not possibly know, yet her cheeks grew hot and she turned from him to greet the others.
“This is Mandy Truegood, president of public relations and media promotion,” Tony said as the brunette smiled, extending her hand.
“And this is Porter Haswell, our president of operations.”
The man smiled, shaking her hand. While he was friendly, his gray eyes assessed her. “I’ve heard good things about you, Isabelle. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I never did get to talk to you at the reception, which I had intended to do.”
“Sorry I missed you,” she replied. “I left early,” she added, without a glance at Tony.
“You’ve had a spectacular career with Morris, with many awards. Congratulations,” Porter said.
“Thank you,” she answered. “Morris gave me opportunities. They opened the new hotel chain just shortly before I started, so from the beginning I got to do the ad campaigns. This is a great department with a talented staff. You’ll find each person brings a particular specialty. The teamwork is amazing.”
“You can tell us about your staff. Why don’t we have a seat. We can sit at the conference table,” Tony said.
She moved to the rectangular table. Effortlessly, Tony was there before her, pulling out a chair for her.
“Thanks,” she said brusquely as he sat to her right. She marveled how he could appear both relaxed and in control at the same time, a puzzling combination. On the table was her own large portfolio, plus a file bearing her name.
Amanda and Porter placed notebooks and papers in front of their seats.
Tony gazed at her with a faint smile. “We’ve studied your portfolio and impressive file that lists your accomplishments and awards.”
“I look forward to working with you,” Amanda added. “Morris is a great company and you’ve contributed to its growth.”
“Why don’t you tell us about the campaign that you feel you contributed