have burned his blue-eyed brain out.

John was nodding, eyebrows up. “She did, did she?”

“It was a long time ago,” Kate said, glancing around the room. This would

be a good time for one these big storage tanks to blow up, wouldn't it? Just foom, and it would be all over.

John was stroking his chin, looking up. “Now, I'm trying to remember that name. Brady, Brady… My wife was a judge some years, but…”

“Mr. Wells, if I could have a word before the presentation?” Penny said, moving forward to touch John's arm. He nodded, following her to a side wall.

Kate stepped back. This was not good. The back of her neck was hot, and she rubbed it. It was like some nightmare time warp. Penny over there, flashing

her perfect panther smile, blowing the whistle, whispering to the judge—to John

Wells. She could almost read her lips. She was disqualified. She's a cheater, John. She cheated then, and she's cheating now. Peter helped her. Look at them, all lovey-dovey. She used him to try to win this proposal.

Kate ran a palm across her eye. John was saying something to Penny.

“Kate?” Peter touched her arm.

“Why did you say that?” she hissed.

He shook his head. “I'm sorry, Kate. He was going to remember, anyway. I

know you're embarrassed by it, but the truth is, you did win.”

“Yes, for about five minutes.” She jerked her head at Penny. “Look at her.

She's ratting me out.”

“She's not ratting you out. She's distracting him. Don't worry.”

She snorted. “Don't worry. The biggest presentation of my life is in”—she glanced at her watch—“twelve minutes. I was already worried. Now I'm just…”

She wrenched out of his arm and stalked back down the hallway.

The conference room was empty, but not for long. Soon, every major board

member of the company would file in. Corey Steele, stakeholders, all staring at

her, wondering who this girl was, this supposed expert, the one who was going

to tell them exactly what their company needed.

And there would be John Wells, sitting in the center chair, head fresh with the news from Penny Fitch that he was looking at a cheater, a woman so inept

she had to rely on the help of her little high school crush—again—just to get the

job done.

She took a swallow from her lukewarm bottle of water, then raised it into the

air. Here's to me.

* * *

“Well, Kate, I think you did a great job.”

“You're too kind, John.” Kate was shutting down her laptop and unplugging

some cables. It had gone pretty well, despite all the pre-game rattling. In some

ways, it had made her throw caution to the wind. What was there to lose anymore?

There were plenty of smiles and eye contact. John never once jumped up to

point a finger at her and shout “Cheater!” as two strong-armed goons grabbed her to cart her away. That would probably come during her dreams tonight.

Corey Steele had done enough nodding that she felt she might have won him over. Unless he was just being polite. He had turned out to be a pretty nice guy

despite his metallic name.

She couldn't help noticing that Penny, who had sat next to Mr. Steele, had done a lot of fitful glancing in his direction. Something going on there? Does she hit on every able-bodied male in the county? Or was she finally feeling some guilt in her shriveled little soul?

Whatever. Penny could take care of herself. Peter could take care of himself.

She was drained, wrung out, and the week wasn't even half-over yet. Now it was

back to Chicago, where she would wait for the call from Nitrovex to see if Garman had made it to the final round. It was going to be a long few days.

Most of the others had left the conference room. John stayed, sitting on the

edge of the table, glancing around the room. “Still getting used to this new facility. Far cry from the dirt-floor pole barn we started out in.”

Kate smiled, nodded as she kept packing. “I'm sure.” Was something on his

mind?

“You know, I have to confess. It's hard for an old goat like me to accept some of these changes. Websites, new logos, branding. My grandson tells me I

need it, and I'm sure he's right. Just kind of hard to let go of the past sometimes.”

He was watching her, something deep in his wrinkled blue eyes. He

reminded her of her grandfather, a man who had died when she was ten, leaving

only memories of pipe smoke, stories, and swing-set pushes.