Mr. Porter got coffee and came back to the table. “Good to see you here this morning, Mr. Gray. I’m certain we’ll be able to make some real progress this time.”
Brandon slanted Morgan a look that said, Is this guy for real?
“As I told Ms. Gray at our initial meeting, and I’m sure you all will agree, it would be in the best interest of your company if we settled this matter out of court. I don’t have to remind you of the injuries my client suffered and the long-term care she’ll require. The stress is wearing on the Sandersons, and they’re anxious to have this settled.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Porter, we will make a decision once we review all the evidence,” Morgan said. “I’ve left messages at your office three times requesting the defective shower rail and packaging and have yet to receive a return call. Since you’re here, we can schedule a time right now. I’m free next Wednesday at nine or Friday at eleven, or the following Tuesday at three. These are also the available dates provided by the third-party company you suggested. I took the liberty of hiring them in anticipation of our meeting today. Which one works best for you?” She pulled up the calendar on her iPad. “Either of those dates works for me.” Morgan glanced at Brandon.
“Works for me.”
Both her father and uncle nodded their agreement.
Morgan shifted her attention back to the lawyer. “Mr. Porter?” She smiled. “You mentioned that your clients are anxious to have the matter settled, and we agree.”
“Well, I... I need to check with my secretary first.” He looked downright uncomfortable.
“By all means.” She rose and slid the telephone in front of him. “We can wait.”
Mr. Porter reluctantly picked up the receiver and made the call. “Wednesday at nine,” he muttered after hanging up.
“Great. Once we inspect the rail and run some tests—”
Mr. Porter leaned forward. “Tests?”
“Yes. Your clients claim that the rail broke. We want to know why, as I’m sure you do.”
“Ah, yes, yes. Well, if there’s nothing else, I have another meeting. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“Dad, do you have anything you want to add?”
“No. I think you’ve covered everything. Thad?”
“I’m satisfied.”
“As am I,” Brandon said.
“Then we’re adjourned,” Morgan said, rising to her feet. She walked around the table and extended her hand. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Porter. I look forward to seeing you next Wednesday.”
He stood and gave her hand a brief shake, then gathered up his papers and made a hasty exit.
Morgan closed the door behind him and turned back to the table. “Well?”
“I’m proud of the way you handled yourself, baby girl,” her father said. “Excellent job. I think Mr. Porter will think twice before he underestimates you again.”
Uncle Thad chuckled. “Nolan, I think you’re right.”
“Thanks,” she said. After the two men left, she turned to Brandon. “I expected you to say more.”
“I didn’t need to. I enjoyed that little show. Girl, you grilled him with a smile. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks. The way he’s trying to rush this through makes me think something isn’t right with their story.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Brandon pushed to his feet. “But I know you’ll get to the bottom of it. Been meaning to ask how you like working for the company.”
Morgan shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m just not sure this is where I want to work long-term.”
“But you’re good at it. You’re not still thinking about that whole sports agent thing, are you? If you are, you might want to get a few years of legal experience first.”
She didn’t comment. No way would she tell him about Omar or the fact that she’d taken and passed the certification test to become an agent earlier in the year.
“Look, I know you love football, and I’m not saying you couldn’t make it as a sports agent. I just don’t see a lot of male athletes taking you seriously, and I don’t want you to get your feelings hurt.”
“Well, we’ll just wait and see. Right now I’m concentrating on this case. See you around.” She gathered up her folders and walked out.
Later, Morgan sat at her desk checking Omar’s stats and salary from the previous year. As a tight end, his salary cap was much lower than that of a wide receiver. But when one of the receivers was injured last season, Omar had stepped in and played the position so well, that he’d earned the nickname End Zone Drummond. His numbers were second only to those of the team’s star receiver, Marcus Dupree. Colin Rush was still questionable for the first half of the upcoming season, which would leave the team weak on the left side. She smiled. She’d just found her negotiating point.
When she talked to Omar tomorrow evening, she would share her thoughts. Automatically her mind went back to the kiss she couldn’t seem to forget. She shook her head. “No kisses. Just the contract, Morgan,” she muttered under her breath. The headache she’d gone through with her pro basketball boyfriend should make it easy to keep things strictly business with Omar, especially since his reputation with women mirrored that of her cheating ex. So no matter how delicious she thought his kisses were, there would be no more.
* * *
Tuesday, Omar first had a meeting with the group of people who had been selected to assist him in opening a mental center for veterans and their families. With so little resources, the service was sorely needed. Nine people sat on the board—veterans, family members of veterans, a psychologist and medical doctor. By the time the meeting ended, he had been talked into serving as the keynote speaker for the upcoming fund-raiser this weekend to replace the original woman who needed to leave town to take care of her ailing mother.
Afterward Omar had to rush to get to his appointment with Jaedon Dupree. Once there, he took the elevator in the Wilshire District office building and exited on the fifth floor. He crossed the plush carpet to the receptionist desk and greeted the woman sitting there with a smile.
“Good afternoon. My name is Omar Drummond. I have an appointment with Jaedon Dupree for two-thirty.”
She pushed a button, spoke through a headset and then nodded. “Go through these doors, turn right and you’ll see his assistant’s desk at the end of the hallway.”
“Thank you.” Omar followed her instructions and was greeted by another young woman.
“Hello, Mr. Drummond. Mr. Dupree is finishing up with a call. Please have a seat and he’ll be with you in just a minute.”
He nodded and glanced down at her nameplate. “Thank you, Ms. Ford.” He sat in one of the three chairs, picked up a food magazine and flipped through the pages. Omar made a mental note to stop by his brother’s house later to check on him. Rashad had been working in their family’s restaurant helping out with stock since his discharge from the Army, and Omar hadn’t talked to him in almost two weeks.
“Mr. Drummond?”
His head came up.
“Mr. Dupree will see you now.”
Omar tossed the magazine on the table, stood and followed her into a large office.
“Thank you, Yvonne.” Jaedon Dupree bore