****
Angela’s curiosity was aroused and she had no idea what to expect as she was led through the most extravagantly decorated home she’d ever seen. It was as big inside as she’d suspected; everything super-size from the front door to the foyer and then the long, spreading hallway. It was like being on a movie set, not that she’d know what that meant since she’d only been in one feature film, a very small one. But she had the general idea of what kind of home someone with a new truckload of cash would own. And this was the height of it.
Hiding her awed thoughts, she schooled her features and smiled calmly as the formally dressed, black-haired woman who’d shown her in finally held open a door and ushered her to enter.
“Mr. Davis is already waiting to see you,” the middle-aged, slim and petite woman said with a professionally bright smile in return.
Finally, a name, thought Angela who nodded and quelled any lingering feeling of doubt or hesitation. Brushing past the woman who’d introduced herself at the door as Linda Brentwood, Angela walked smartly into the room beyond.
The door closed behind her. She looked around curiously to find it designed with style and sumptuousness in mind. Nothing crass or showy in place. The room was large, certainly bigger than the size of her whole apartment. There were tightly curtained windows lining one end which was shadowy compared to where she stood inside the now shut doorway. Her eyes quickly scanned the bookcases, the stately furniture and rugs, the ornate fireplace and finally, the desk on the far side of the room.
Angela drew in a breath. There was a man seated there. He didn’t rise, but waved his arm to a chair close to where Angela stood.
“Welcome to my home, Ms. Neil. Please, have a seat.”
Angela’s eyes widened at the sound of that voice. Full, deep and very masculine. It sent a shiver down her spine. Why couldn’t she see him? Why all the mystery? Shrugging imperceptibly, she took the chair offered and primly sat on the edge, knees together.
She hadn’t been sure what to wear. So she’d gone for a simple white silk dress; something sensible yet fashionable enough to flatter her shape. Her hair was freshly done and her makeup was flawless and light. Angela took great pride in her appearance and had nothing to be intimidated about when it came to her looks. But seated at one end of the room while her mysterious, obviously rich host sat on the other, she felt a jolt of nerves as she wondered what he could want with her.
He’d sounded young, perhaps early thirties? She could barely make out the outlines of his face and he was dressed in a light-colored shirt. A tanned hand lay on the desk, close to the lamp and it was the one thing she could see clearly. Long, tapering fingers lightly dusted with dark hairs.
He was somewhat young though most probably a little older than she was. And intriguing enough to make Angela stay planted on her seat even when he hadn’t had the courtesy to stand up or shake her hand when she appeared.
“Thank you, Mr. Davis,” she said neutrally, and waited.
“I appreciate you coming today. I promise to take only a little of your time. I’m hopeful our meeting will reach a positive conclusion,” he returned.
Angela inhaled deeply and then let the air out in a tense rush. “Why don’t you tell me who you are and exactly why I’m here.”
He seemed surprised for a moment. “You don’t know who I am?”
She frowned and quickly ran his last name Davis through her brain. Nothing.
He paused, then seemed to nod in agreement. “Okay, to the point it is then. My name is Shane Davis. I invited you to my house to offer you a business arrangement. It would involve you playing a certain role for a few weeks at the most.”
“I see. You don’t exactly strike me as the Hollywood type, Mr. Shane Davis,” murmured Angela. His name didn’t sound at all familiar but then she couldn’t possibly know of every spectacularly rich male in the city of Nashville. She wondered if he was a music producer. “Are you some kind of casting director or maybe a producer? Because this is a weird way of auditioning your characters.”
Angela knew this had nothing to do with a part in any kind of production. She just needed to sound on top of things and witticism was usually her most able defense.
And yet when he again paused for a few moments, Angela had to warn herself that maybe she needed to let him do most of the talking. She didn’t want to be caught at a disadvantage, or end up sounding stupid. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to make a good impression on this faceless man anyway.
“My proposition is unusual, but very straightforward and simple.” His tone sounded brisker and even cooler now.
Angela stiffened at his cryptic words and waited for him to continue, her heart pounding with the strangest excitement she’d ever experienced. Something told her she just may not like what she was about to hear.