“I thought Chance Cartwright was supposed to be at this meeting today,” Ursula said with a frown. As always, her jet black hair was pulled into a sleek chignon, her makeup flawless, her jewelry stylish but understated. She wore a sleek black Armani pantsuit that complimented her thin, statuesque form.“He was,” Madison said.Ursula’s dark eyes flashed in disapproval. “So where is he?”I don’t have a clue, Madison thought unhappily. Chance had been ducking her phone calls and ignoring her messages since she’d left Wyoming several weeks ago, signed contract in hand. “He called and left a message on my voice mail late last night...something about a problem with a horse he was training. He said he was not going to be here today.” And that was all he’d said.Ed Connelly—the president and founding partner of Connelly and Associates—sent Madison a narrow glance that spoke volumes about his displeasure with her. “Cartwright understood how important it is for him to make himself accessible to us?”
