Angie but her lip, wondering if have was suppose to wait here or if she would be given instruction via the intercom .she pulled at the her skirt , straightening it , and wondered if she should have dressed in something other than a no- nonsense navy blue dress. At least the dark blue was thinning, helping to hide her plumpness .
She waited, fidgeting and wishing this interview was over . Talk about a fools errand ....
After a long moment , she walked to the door , and knocked gently . "Mr . Logan ?"
No answer . Inside , she could still hear the slight murmur of conversation. Was he interviewing someone else , or was he trying to intimidate her by letting her cook her heels in the outer office ? Why had she almost driven to apply for this job ? Well, she had that interview with the dentists in Moore this afternoon; she'd have a chance there . Angie took a deep breath and walked in . So this was the office of one of the richest men in the world . In awe , she looked around at the fine antique furnishings, the expensive western painting on the walls . Somehow, she had feelings those Remington bronzes on the tables were originals . Priceless Navaho and Persian rugs muffled her footsteps.
A high - backed leather chair was turned away from her and towards the wall of gleaming windows behind the big walnut desk . Last the windows , she could see the skyline of downtown Oklahoma City against a pale blue sky.
A murmur if conversation drifted to her , and Angie realized there was a man in that high-backed leather chair , his black cowboy boots propped up on a low filing cabinet and he talked in the phone . Expensive, custom- made cowboy boots, she realized , and small feet for a man . Small feet on a man means a big.... :0
Angie turned crimson as she remembered her southern grandmother's saying .
The man had a magazine In his hand she could see his arm , clad in a dark grey silk suit ."I don't give a damn if the ad agency does think this will seek fine jewelry," the voice snarled in a deep , southwestern drawl . I hate the damned ad: pull it!'' He slammed the magazine down on the desk so hard , it bounced ." I own that magazine , too, don't I? Fire the editor! I hate ads featuring women that look like they are starving! I don't care if it fashionable look! I own your ad agency , don't I? After you do all that, I'll expect your resignation in the mail, pronto!"
The hand slammed the phone down so hard it rattled, and she heard him sigh, as if annoyed. His chair creaked as he turned towards the giant windows and the view of Oklahoma City behind his desk .
Intrigued, Angie tiptoed closer and peered at the open magazine. It was a typical fashion layout , she thought ; a Gaunt beauty wearing expensive gold and diamonds and the latest couturier gown .The silver -blond model looked flat chested and starving.
Without thinking , Angie said, " well I don't blame you! It's nice to see someone making a political statement against fashion models who look like they are recovering from bulimia "
The big leather chair whirled around. " where in the hell did you come from ? " It was the man firm the magazine cover, every bit as intimidating and darkly handsome in person. No he really wasn't handsome; he was virile and dangerous looking , and somewhere in his mid- thirties . A lot of American Indian blood, Angie noted.? Instead of a regular tie, he wire a fine turquoise and silver bola with his western suit.
As a former Air Force brat, Angie wasn't easily intimidated but this glowing bug make made her take a step backward.
"I — the jiffy Girl agency sent me , and I just want to say you have a lot more principle than Bussines international monthly Says you do if u will try to Change a fashion trend that's Landing Thousands of young women in hospital trying to imitate it."He didn't say anything, just continued to glare at her as if he couldn't believe her effrontery. His eyes were black as jet and just as hard. A tiny mole twitched on the left side of his sensual mouth.
" what I mean is ," Angie rushes in, " they said you were a real old-fashion robber baron, but you must have some principles, because I heard you saying to jerk the ad, then that you were willing to close the company, and —"
"I have few principles," he growled, " and you have more guts than any woman I eve met." He learned back in the hug leather chair and folded his hands across his wide chest, staring at her .
Angie was so startled by his admission she gulped. "No wonder they call you an outlaw—"
Don't call me that!" he roared at her. " I just sued and ruined that rag for calling me that! I'm not an outlaw; I'm respectable and successful! My company doesn't do anything most of the international companies don't do, but I'm fair game for the tabloids because I'm always brutally frank, Miss— Miss—?"
He may wasn't going to intimidate her,she vowed to herself , but ur knees seemed to be shaking. " Newland . I was merely suggesting that those magazine ad annoy me , too, and plump women vastly outnumber skinny ones, so that's more money that's spent on cloths and jewelry —"
"Hush " he made an annoyed gesture .
"What?"
"I said hush: you chatter more than a squirrel."
Angie hesitates , trying to read his dark , rugged face as he leaned his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers, staring at her with that intimidating, steely gaze No, he definitely wasn't handsome , but he had an arresting virile quality , like all those antiheroes in the old movies she loved so well.
" you could at least ask me to sit down."
" I said hush." He gestured towards a chair and reached out to pick up what was evidently her application. "Now miss....?"
" Newland ; Angelica Newland," she said , deciding from his Stoney expression that was going to be out of here in record time.