What happened back there? she wondered. There he was, standing in his office, and he’s clearly out of the picture—wouldn’t say so to her face, but she’d seen defeat in his eyes, his posture, I quit written all over him—and a couple of minutes later he’s jumping into the elevator with her and not looking back. Had he truly been on the fence and she’d misread him? She’d been so sure . . . Well, no use in beating it to death. He was still on board. That was what counted. She didn’t know how good Sullivan was, but at least the sims still had a lawyer. He stopped next to a high privet hedge and she pulled in behind him. She grabbed her umbrella and stepped out of her car. The umbrella was auto open which was good because she had the briefcase in her other hand. She had no intention of leaving it in the car. An umbrellaless Sullivan came splashing over to her. “Let me help,” he said, reaching for the briefcase. She handed him the umbrella handle. “Help with this.”
