You don’t know Rachel Dunn. Rachel is smart. She’s got stature. Getting messed up with Carson…it would be beneath her.” “Irv, you didn’t listen. I didn’t say they mess around. Only that there’s stuff on her in Carson’s files.” The Czar of Service Operations, huddled with Jaime in the dim light of her lab, had his back to the line of computers. The screens were doing their dancing, colours exploding and imploding, and were rendering him in silhouette. But before him Jaime’s animated face reflected all the changing hues. She could have been on stage, irrepressible, unbound, a diva caressed by the spotlights. “Rachel’s got judgement,” Heywood’s dark visage continued its dour protest. “Excellent judgement. You may not know, but she’s our best high flyer. Compared to her, Carson’s a smear, a film of slime, and that’s pushing his charm quotient to the limit. She’d stay well clear of him.” So defensive, Jaime thought. Okay, so he hates Carson and admires that woman.
