by Dawn Atkins
“She’s staying right here. Now she wants me to hire a new operations manager and make her general manager.”
“We can’t afford a new hire and you know it. Believe me, once we tell the tenants we’re selling, she’ll be glad you’re taking the heat instead of her.”
“That is far from certain, Fletch. Sylvie’s report was impressive. A mall consultant says we’ve got a solid niche as a destination mall. We’ve always made good money out there.”
“We’re developers, Chase. We don’t belong in retail.”
“Diversity gives us legs—flexibility and range, too.” He wasn’t about to make a knee-jerk decision or act on assumptions. “Dad might not be so crazy to want to hang on to the profit center.”
“Come on. You and I both know that for the General this is about Mom. He treats the mall like her shrine.” Pain flashed in his brother’s eyes. A pain Chase knew well himself.
“That’s not the whole story, Fletcher.”
“Oh, yeah? He was into the photo albums the other day, Mom’s music on the stereo, moping around, drinking whiskey. Mom’s gone and he’s got to get past it. Selling the mall will help.”
“He won’t see it like that.”
“He will when you present the numbers.”
“Numbers can tell different stories.”
“So tell the right one. I’m counting on you, Chase.”
Chase stared at his brother, as immovable as their father, who seemed to think once Chase convinced Fletcher to keep the mall, Chase would stay on as manager. The General had never forgiven him for going off on his own.
But no way would he stay.
Chase gathered investors, did deals and moved on. He needed challenge, variety, new horizons. A mall manager was a glorified landlord. Frankly it puzzled him why anyone as smart and talented as Sylvie would settle for something so small.
“I’ll do a complete analysis, Fletcher. As I told you.”
“Wait until you talk to the broker. Now is the time to sell. I’m talking a bidding war here. You’ll see.”
“He could be blowing smoke to get our business.”
“We split the proceeds three ways, remember,” Fletcher pressed. “Don’t tell me that after Nevada you don’t need the cash.”
The jab hit home and Chase flinched. “I don’t need the mall proceeds to survive.” Though the failure of Home at Last in Las Vegas had hit him hard in more ways than financial.
“I realize that,” Fletcher said, softening his tone. “How’s it going for you here? You’re out in the far west valley?”
“Yeah. There are the usual hassles, but Chet’s managing the day-to-day operation. I’m getting investors.” The pieces had come together quickly, considering all the McCann Development connections.
“You trust him? After what he pulled?”
“He didn’t pull anything. We were both swindled.” Chet had accepted the builder’s word on permits and clearances and Chase had let it slide. The builder skipped town with half their capital and they lost the rest when inspectors forced them to raze what had already been built. They’d trusted good intentions, when they’d needed hard proof. Chase had learned his lesson—never let his heart override his business sense. This time they were crossing all t’s, dotting all i’s.
“The lawsuit’s been called off?”
“Yes.” Only Chase’s negotiations skills and firm commitment to repay them had kept the furious investors from filing suit. He and Chet would have won—there were no guarantees in this business—but it would have been a waste of time and money for everyone involved.
“Good, because the last thing we need is legal bills.” Fletcher looked suddenly bone-weary.
“What’s up with you?” Chase leaned forward. “The truth now.”
“Nothing.” Fletcher blew out a breath. “I’m leveraged is all. We’ll be okay.” He searched Chase’s face as if deciding whether or not to confide in him. “See, I bought into an assemblage in Chandler right before the bubble burst—without getting the General involved. I’ve been scrambling to make up for it, but so far no luck.”
“I know a limited partnership looking for property near high-tech plants.”
“Not the guys who want to sue you, I hope.”
“Hey, play nice. No. Different group. I pitched Home At Last to them, but it’s too slow-growth. I might talk your property up…that is, if it’s not too bone-headed.”
Fletch smirked at the return jab. “You’ve got enough on your plate already. I’ll work it out.” He sounded more discouraged than Chase had ever heard him.
“Let me help. This is what family does.”
Fletcher tapped his pen against his blotter. “Okay. Yeah, I’d appreciate you putting in a word. The General takes it better if I have a solution when I break a problem to him.”
“Hell, you’re partners. Equals. Don’t let him second-guess you.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t deal with him every day.” Unlike Chase, Fletcher had stayed on to fight the losing battle for their father’s approval.
“If you hate it, leave. You don’t have to stay with the company to prove you love the guy. Even if that’s what he expects.”
They locked gazes again, the old resentment hanging like stale smoke between them. Chase took off. Fletcher stayed. Fletcher believed Chase got more slack with the General because he was first born.
The bitter truth was that no one got slack from Marshall McCann.
Fletch broke the gaze-lock first. “I don’t hate it. I run most of the operation.”
“He could bring someone else on board, if you wanted to do something on your own.”
“He’d never trust anyone outside the family. We have enough trouble with him second-guessing our contractors. I’m not going anywhere. I have no secret unfulfilled dreams.” Like you.
Chase chalked the sarcasm up to his brother’s financial worries. “I’ll help where I can. I’m here now.”
“Yeah, you are.” Fletcher managed a faint smile. “You being around has cheered him up, at least.”
“Not so I’ve noticed.”
“That’s the General. He can’t let on he’s pleased to the one who pleased him. You know that.”
They both shrugged, regarding each other with the familiar sense of being comrades-in-arms against their difficult father.
“If it helps, tell him the Chandler buy was my idea,” Chase said with a half smile. “He’d be pleased to have another example of my poor judgment. He hasn’t let up about Nevada once. He somehow thinks that screwup will finally scare me back home.”
“Will it?”
“No way. As soon as this is over, there’s a limited partnership investment deal in Portland they want me in on.”
“Yeah?”
“Meanwhile, I’ve got Sylvie to handle. She’s hurt and angry and I need her cooperation to do this right.” Far from being relieved to have Chase’s help, she seemed to doubt his competence based on those bad months three years ago.
“You’ll work it out, I’m sure. Frankly it wouldn’t hurt her to move on. Mary Beth says she lives and breathes the mall. She needs a personal life.” Fletch shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable that he’d said all that about Sylvie. He’d obviously been doing some thinking about her.
“Like you should talk. All you do is work, Fletcher. You’re just like Dad before Mom humanized him.”
Fletcher shrugged off his words, so Chase poked at him some more. “The Seattle guy’s out of the picture with Sylvie now. Maybe you should ask her out.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Fletcher’s brows shot up. He looked like someone had splashed his face with cold water.
“You do still have a thing for her.”
“Are you nuts? That was years ago…almost a decade.” But Fletcher was getting redder by the second.
“Did you even ask her out back then?”
“Once, yeah. She wasn’t into it.” He looked down at his desk.
“Things chan
ge. Feelings change.”
“Not Sylvie’s. Not about that.”
“If that’s true, get out there and find someone else. Fall in love, get married, get yourself a picket fence.”
Fletcher regarded him steadily. “You first, big brother.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“Right back at you. And I date plenty. Not by your standards, but who could keep up that pace?”
“My reputation far exceeds my deeds, trust me.”
“Whatever. Anyway, I’ve got work to do here.”
“So do I. I’m heading out to Home at Last.”
“Watch the photo radar with my car. It’s easy to speed with that much horsepower. They’ll mail the ticket to me.”
“If they do, I’ll pay for it.”
“Oh, you bet you will.” Chase was glad to see the edge back in his brother’s attitude. He hated to think that money troubles and the General had him so beaten down.
“I’m impressed you bought a convertible, dawg. Pretty impractical for Arizona. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
“Say hello to Sylvie for me,” Fletcher said, ignoring the tease.
“Yeah?” Chase lifted a brow.
“We’re friends, Chase. I can send greetings to a friend. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
“Stop by the mall and say hi yourself. You’ll be impressed…with what she’s done with the mall, I mean.” He gave an exaggerated wink.
“Same old Chase.” Fletcher shook his head. “I’ll see you at supper. Nadia’s cooking your favorites as a welcome home.”
“My favorites? I didn’t know I had any.” Chase shrugged. “Tonight’s no good. Or tomorrow. I’ll ask her to push it forward.”
“You’re a busy guy.”
He was, but once he got in the car, Chase found his thoughts gravitating to Sylvie.
She was as sexy as ever, trim and curvy, with all that energy. Her hair had deepened from a light corn syrup to a dark honey, and her voice held more authority, but her eyes threw the same green sparks.
Her mouth was still built for sin, with a plump bottom lip and a dip in the top one that created a heart-shaped pillow he wanted to rest his mouth on for hours. Maybe days.
She smelled good, too. What was it? Fruit and spice? Cherry? Something edible anyway.
She had more self-confidence these days. She knew what she wanted. Like the mall job, for one.
How about in bed? Oh, yeah. He’d bet she knew exactly what she wanted in bed. Unlike that long-ago night.
Forget that night. It was old news and wrong even then.
Wrong because of the tequila, wrong because it was Sylvie’s first time, wrong because Chase never stuck around, wrong because Fletcher wanted her, too.
Growing up, she’d been like a little sister—big-eyed and eager, warm and sweet, quietly busy and always thinking.
If only he’d left that alone.
But it had been her twenty-first birthday and she’d been so sad when her mother didn’t show. He’d had to cheer her up. And if it hadn’t been for those damned peach margaritas she kept ordering he would have kept his hands to himself. He knew better. Hell, he was six years older.
Somehow, before he knew it those lips of hers were in kissing range and he was a goner. He just wanted to wrap her in his arms and make love to her all night.
He’d hurt her feelings when he stopped. But better she know he was a jerk up-front than find out later when he left, which he always did. Chase moved on.
Sylvie stuck around.
Hell, she was still at the mall.
As soon as he settled this crisis and got Home at Last off the ground, he’d be out of here. He could hardly wait.
Being home made him feel suffocated.
Tomorrow, he’d do his best to show Sylvie he wasn’t such a bad guy to work with. He’d keep the possible sale of the mall to himself until he had preliminary data and a sense of the real estate market. No point breaking her heart again if selling was out as an option.
Hell, maybe they’d enjoy working together.
He pictured her on that ladder, flailing around, flashing those lacy stockings at him. He’d have preferred bare legs…nothing between his hand and her soft skin….
A horn honked and he realized he’d slid lanes.
Down, boy.
He’d better keep himself in check around her. He doubted there was any danger from her side of the sexual fence. At the moment, Sylvie saw him as the enemy. And depending on what he decided in the next few weeks, she just might be right.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN SYLVIE STEPPED into the mall at seven-thirty the next morning, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” filled the air with its cheerful advice. The words hit home.
That was exactly the attitude she would take today. Like she’d told Marshall, she would do what was best for the mall. And what was best for the mall was Sylvie in charge. All she had to do was prove that to Chase and she’d be home free.
Don’t worry, be happy.
Standing there, the feeling of home like a hot bath of Heaven Scent lavender salts, Sylvie surveyed her domain. Starlight Desert was small for an enclosed mall, just three hundred thousand square feet, floored in homey Saltillo, not glaring marble, the ceilings impressive, but not echo-cold.
In the center island, the banana trees, palms and bright flowers gleamed due to the careful care Betty’s crew gave them. As a teenager working maintenance, Sylvie used to pretend she was in a jungle when she watered and dusted them.
As she headed down the mall, a prickle of awareness made her look up to find Chase watching her from the second-floor landing to the office. She forced a smile and a wave, annoyed that her body automatically went all tight and warm and interested, despite the misery the man was causing her.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she smiled again, determined to stay cool and breezy, even though being near him made her tingle. “I wanted to apologize for any harshness I showed yesterday,” she said.
“I understand. You were shocked and hurt.”
“I was surprised,” she corrected, uncomfortable with her reactions being laid out so boldly. It made her sound weak and not very managerial. “Caught off guard. Especially since the decision was based on a misunderstanding about my plans.”
And the fact that Marshall thought her only capable of pouring coffee and making PowerPoint presentations.
“I can’t do my job without your help, Sylvie. So, how about a fresh start?”
“I’m sure we both want what’s best for the mall.”
“Of course.” Something flitted behind his eyes, a difference of opinion, a doubt that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
He held out his hand. “It’s good to see you, Sylvie. It really is.” The confession seemed pulled from him against his will.
“It’s good to see you…too,” she said, taking his hand. His fingers were warm and strong, making her feel safe and desired and turning her knees to noodles….
Was she holding on too long? Not quite sure, she released her grip.
“I won’t leave you hanging like before,” he said.
“That was thoughtless of me to say, Chase. Starr was so sick. You had her on your mind and—”
“Let’s not,” he said.
“Okay, but I just… I would give anything if she hadn’t… I just miss her.” They’d lost so much when they lost Starr. Her gentle ways, her big-as-life smile, her kind words that hugged them close.
“Hey, hey, fresh start now,” Chase said, but she caught the flash of sadness before he blinked it away. “This could be fun, you know,” he said, giving her his charming grin. He had perfect teeth, white and straight except for a tiny crossover in front she’d always loved. A single flaw in all that perfection was really quite sexy.
Sylvie forced herself to focus. “Fun? I suppose so. If you enjoy twelve-hour days, troubleshooting that never ends and checklists on top of checklists, especially with the Black Friday promotion coming
up.”
“Lead the way,” he said, motioning her ahead of him down the hall. She took him into Mary Beth’s office, then stopped cold. She’d forgotten the personal items she’d brought here when she’d assumed the job was hers—photographs, a gold pen set thank-you award from the Retailers Association, her leather planner and her Christmas cactus plant.
Hot with embarrassment, she gathered the plant and pen set. “Let me get these things out of your way.”
“Hang on.” Chase picked up the tri-fold photo frame and studied the pictures. “Graduation?” he said, looking at the one of her in cap and gown with her grandparents. They’d been killed in a car accident a few months later.
“Yep.” She reached for the frame, but Chase was now studying the middle picture—her and Desiree on Sylvie’s birthday four years ago, just after Desiree returned to Phoenix for good.
“Your mom, right?” He lifted his gaze to Sylvie’s face. “Same eyes and nose. Not the mouth so much. Your lips are…” He looked at them, licking his own, as if he wanted a taste of hers.
“Mine are…?” she prompted, getting that tingle again, her knees giving way just a little.
“Uh…different.” He blinked and it was over, like a light had been snapped off. “And this one’s the big party.”
“Starr took that shot.” Starr had set up Sylvie’s twenty-first birthday party at a restaurant, always doing what she could to fill in for Sylvie’s missing family.
“That was some night,” Chase said, shaking his head.
She cringed. Chase had caught her crying outside the ladies’ room after her mother called to say she’d missed her flight. “I don’t know why I was so upset. Desiree is Desiree. She came the next day with the handmade shawl she’d ordered for me, which was what made her miss her plane.” She shrugged.
“You wanted your mom there on your birthday. Of course you’d be upset.” Chase’s dark eyes held her, told her to let herself off the hook, something she rarely did.
“Anyway, that was a long time ago.”
“The dancing was fun,” he mused, dragging her back there. Let’s keep the party going, he’d said to ease her distress. At the club he took her to, she’d drunk more peach margaritas. They’d been dancing close, teasing each other, when their eyes met and locked and Chase had kissed her.
