two bottles of wine later he walked her home. Halfway to her apartment he’d caught her fingers in his. And, at her door, as they murmured good night, they almost kissed. Slowly leaning closer until Jackie turned away at the last moment.
They’d never talked about what had happened that night, but it was still there. Hanging between them every time they saw each other. Conner had caught her gazing at him several times since then in a way he’d seen other women look at him. The same way she’d caught him looking at her.
“All right, all right,” he mumbled, trying to sound hurt. “I can take a hint.”
“It’s no hint,” Jackie said firmly. “You stay away from me.” She made a cross with her fingers. “You hear me?”
Conner laughed loudly. “I hear you already.”
She smiled and stuck her tongue out. “Wipe that pout off your face. It’s all an act with you anyway. You’d never marry me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You like blondes with big bosoms,” she said pushing her chest out. “Not little brunettes like me who barely fill a B cup.”
“How do you know what I like?”
“You told me once.”
“I did not.”
“You just don’t remember.”
“Maybe I was trying to make you jealous, Jo.”
“Don’t do this to me, Conner,” she pleaded, waving her hands. “I can’t take it.”
“Okay, okay.” He paused. “So what’s the thought of the day?”
Jackie put a finger to her lips and looked at the ceiling. “When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.”
He’d heard that one before, but he liked it. “Good one.”
“Would you expect anything less?” She gazed at him intently for a few moments, then looked down. “So, why did you need to see me?” she asked quietly. “What questions do you have?”
Conner rubbed his eyes. He’d spent last night at Gavin’s sprawling Upper East Side apartment. He felt safe there, but didn’t sleep well because of the images still haunting him. The intruder falling, arms and legs flailing. The blonde in the dark blue baseball cap. Art Meeks, notepad in hand. And the most vivid of all—Liz’s neck and chest covered with blood.
And he was haunted by what the intruder had said. That Liz was just a pawn, and all those words implied. And that he was a federal agent.
Conner hadn’t said anything to Gavin about what had happened—nothing about his second encounter with the intruder—and he felt guilty. He was even more of a target now. And so was everyone around him.
He finally fell asleep around three thirty, but Gavin’s sharp knock on the bedroom door woke him an hour later. They had to be in New Jersey at eight for the Pharmaco presentation, and Gavin wanted to run through the deck one more time before they climbed in the limousine and headed into the Lincoln Tunnel. Gavin never read anything in a car. It made him sick.
The presentation to Pharmaco’s board of directors had lasted three hours, and Gavin had been magnificent. Leading the CEO and the board members through a maze of possible outcomes of the European conglomerate’s offer. And the effects and intricacies of each. The likelihood of shareholder suits if the board accepted the offer immediately without at least
attempting
to negotiate a higher price. The difficulty of identifying a white knight on short notice should the European firm launch a hostile tender offer if they were rebuffed. The possibility that other domestic drug companies would appear on the scene. The need for the board to entrench senior management by quickly approving bailout packages—golden parachutes and massive retirement benefits—because acquirers usually cut costs at a newly acquired company by firing highly paid executives if packages hadn’t been adopted. Gavin’s willingness to contact a close friend and partner at one of Wall Street’s most prominent leveraged buyout firms to determine if a going-private transaction could be arranged.
Gavin’s advice was delivered free of charge
They’d never talked about what had happened that night, but it was still there. Hanging between them every time they saw each other. Conner had caught her gazing at him several times since then in a way he’d seen other women look at him. The same way she’d caught him looking at her.
“All right, all right,” he mumbled, trying to sound hurt. “I can take a hint.”
“It’s no hint,” Jackie said firmly. “You stay away from me.” She made a cross with her fingers. “You hear me?”
Conner laughed loudly. “I hear you already.”
She smiled and stuck her tongue out. “Wipe that pout off your face. It’s all an act with you anyway. You’d never marry me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You like blondes with big bosoms,” she said pushing her chest out. “Not little brunettes like me who barely fill a B cup.”
“How do you know what I like?”
“You told me once.”
“I did not.”
“You just don’t remember.”
“Maybe I was trying to make you jealous, Jo.”
“Don’t do this to me, Conner,” she pleaded, waving her hands. “I can’t take it.”
“Okay, okay.” He paused. “So what’s the thought of the day?”
Jackie put a finger to her lips and looked at the ceiling. “When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.”
He’d heard that one before, but he liked it. “Good one.”
“Would you expect anything less?” She gazed at him intently for a few moments, then looked down. “So, why did you need to see me?” she asked quietly. “What questions do you have?”
Conner rubbed his eyes. He’d spent last night at Gavin’s sprawling Upper East Side apartment. He felt safe there, but didn’t sleep well because of the images still haunting him. The intruder falling, arms and legs flailing. The blonde in the dark blue baseball cap. Art Meeks, notepad in hand. And the most vivid of all—Liz’s neck and chest covered with blood.
And he was haunted by what the intruder had said. That Liz was just a pawn, and all those words implied. And that he was a federal agent.
Conner hadn’t said anything to Gavin about what had happened—nothing about his second encounter with the intruder—and he felt guilty. He was even more of a target now. And so was everyone around him.
He finally fell asleep around three thirty, but Gavin’s sharp knock on the bedroom door woke him an hour later. They had to be in New Jersey at eight for the Pharmaco presentation, and Gavin wanted to run through the deck one more time before they climbed in the limousine and headed into the Lincoln Tunnel. Gavin never read anything in a car. It made him sick.
The presentation to Pharmaco’s board of directors had lasted three hours, and Gavin had been magnificent. Leading the CEO and the board members through a maze of possible outcomes of the European conglomerate’s offer. And the effects and intricacies of each. The likelihood of shareholder suits if the board accepted the offer immediately without at least
attempting
to negotiate a higher price. The difficulty of identifying a white knight on short notice should the European firm launch a hostile tender offer if they were rebuffed. The possibility that other domestic drug companies would appear on the scene. The need for the board to entrench senior management by quickly approving bailout packages—golden parachutes and massive retirement benefits—because acquirers usually cut costs at a newly acquired company by firing highly paid executives if packages hadn’t been adopted. Gavin’s willingness to contact a close friend and partner at one of Wall Street’s most prominent leveraged buyout firms to determine if a going-private transaction could be arranged.
Gavin’s advice was delivered free of charge
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