O’Brien refuses to see you.” The security guard at the desk in the lobby of the high-rise apartment building returned the phone to its cradle. There was a trace of genuine regret in his face as he regarded the disappointed expression of the young woman across from him. Kelly bit her lower lip, and her jade green eyes darkened to almost emerald. She hadn’t really expected any other answer than the one transmitted to her by the guard, but she had admitted to a hope that O’Brien would miraculously change his mind and see her. Her lips curved in a wry smile. What a miracle that would have been! Nick O’Brien’s antipathy toward journalists and the media was practically legend. He had been refusing both her written requests for an interview and all her phone calls for over three weeks now. She sighed. She hadn’t wanted to use the wild card that might gain her entrance to his presence, but now it seemed that she had no choice. She reached into her voluminous bone leather shoulder bag, drew out a long white business envelope, and handed it to the burly, gray-haired security guard.
