by Judy Teel
She'd really been hoping that her grandfather wasn't in "one of his moods." She reluctantly opened her eyes, again.
The ever solemn Winston stood before them barefoot, wearing flared white pants, a white vest, navy blue coat thick with brass buttons, a scarf and a flat-brimmed hat styled along the lines of a short top hat.
"Good morning, miss. Sir," Winston said, politely.
Ryan slid his sunglasses down his nose and stared at the older man.
Deciding denial was the better part of valor, CK pretended nothing was out of the ordinary. "We were summoned. Where is he?" she asked, proud of how calm she sounded.
"In the garden."
"In one of his moods?"
"Always, miss."
"Jesus," Ryan whispered.
Winston's pale brown eyes shifted to him. "No, sir. Napoleonic Seaman First Class." He stepped back and motioned for them to come in.
CK mentally fortified herself and stepped into the cavernous foyer. Ryan trailed behind her radiating curiosity with a healthy dose of reluctance. She couldn't blame him for either.
They trekked across the marble floor behind the shuffling butler, through the grand salon, took a right into the billiard room, and finally emerged into the vaulted splendor of the library. She barely noticed the collections of war memorabilia and antiques that stuffed her grandfather's mansion, but Ryan seemed openly fascinated by the vastness of it all. For someone who had never been there, she supposed the cases of rare items from all over the world and original paintings might be quite remarkable. To her it was just another twenty minutes of light exercise.
Winston reached the row of glass doors that led out onto the terrace and the labyrinth of gardens beyond. He gazed at CK with sad eyes, and the worry gnawing at her belly took an extra big chomp.
"May I say, miss, that I'm extremely sorry for what your grandfather is about to do to you."
"It's bad?" Ryan asked in the tone of voice people usually reserved for funerals.
"Oh, the worst, sir."
CK swallowed the tiny amount of spit left in her dry mouth. "Didn't the Napoleon thing clue you in, Anderson?" she gritted out, straightening her shoulders. She would not let him do this to her. She was twenty-seven and had managed Kazners on her own for nearly three years. He wasn't the boss of her anymore. She could do this.
As Winston swung open the doors, CK lifted her chin defiantly and stepped outside.
"Anderson?" she said, sharply when Ryan didn't follow her.
"Are those winged lions?" He focused on the life-sized statues on either side of the stairs.
"Where did you say he was, Winston?" she asked.
"Third elephant on the left," the butler provided.
Reaching back, she grabbed Ryan's thick wrist and pulled him up beside her. The warmth of him soaked into her palm and skated up her arm in a comforting buzz of energy.
Standing on the edge of the doorway, Winston brought himself to attention and cleared his throat. "Your good-for-nothing, blight on the family name granddaughter has arrived!" he shouted. His voice flowed down the terraced lawn and into the greenery beyond with surprising force. "And Mr. Anderson!"
"Wow," Ryan muttered.
"My apologies. It was required of me." He gave them a short bow and backed away.
The doors swung shut and Winston's shadowed form disappeared back into the depths of the house. CK's stomach gave a lurch and she had to push down the urge to throw up and run. Maybe all those years ago, Tim had the right idea.
From the far corner of the garden rolled a booming voice. "Front and center, Seaman. Front and center!"
CHAPTER TWO
The Captain's outrageous command drifted away on the fitful breeze coming off the pond that divided the lawn and garden below them.
"I'm ready to wake up, now," Ryan said. Curiosity and loyalty to CK had motivated him to go with her to New Jersey. The weirdness level and the desire to stay out of the middle of whatever was going on encouraged him to get the hell out.
He glanced at CK and noted how calm and cool she looked. At least on the outside. The way she tapped her forefinger against her thigh told him she was nervous; maybe even scared. He hated to abandon her, but interfering in a family fight was never a good idea and always led to trouble. The loyalty of friendship only went so far when it came to relatives.
Leaning down a little, he put his mouth close to her ear. "Maybe this isn't the best time for me to meet our distinguished founder. I should wait in the limo," he whispered.
A shiver ran over her, but she kept her gaze on the line of trees in the distance. "You do and I'll have Farley start a rumor about you."
He straightened up. "What kind of rumor?"
"One that would kill your love life. Something with a disease in it."
Ryan thought about that for a moment. "You sure know how to hit where it hurts." He stepped off the patio. "I'll go first."
CK darted down the steps and cut in front of him. "I'll go. He can't kill his only grandchild. People would talk."
"They won't miss me, is that what you're saying?"
"They'd assume a jilted woman was involved and not give it a second thought." She tossed a sassy grin at him. "I would miss you, though."
A candle flame of pleasure warmed his chest. "But would you avenge me?" he teased.
Her focus shifted to the house behind him. As her smile faded, the thinning clouds broke apart and a beam of morning sunlight touched her face, turning her eyes a clear amethyst and showcasing the worry she was trying so hard to hide. The desire to shield her from harm swiped through him. She always could bring out his usually dormant protective side.
"Together, then," he said and she nodded.
Their shoulders brushed as they descended and the casual contact felt nice. He'd always appreciated how easy he could be with CK. She was the only girl he'd ever felt that way about.
"What's he doing with the elephants, anyway?" Ryan asked when they reached the bottom and headed across the bright green lawn toward the oriental-style bridge that arched over the pond.
Their footsteps echoed off the glassy water below them as they trekked across the bridge. CK nodded toward the boxwood flying pig sitting beside the path on the other side. "The Captain sculpted all the topiaries. About five years ago, he took up the hobby to keep his blood pressure down. Not a good sign that he's out here."
"He seems to favor wings." Ryan speculated when eccentric got classified as crazy, even with several million dollars added to the formula.
"It's not far now," she said. "Try not to do anything to aggravate him. He's incredibly stubborn when he's aggravated."
Sounds familiar, he thought, glancing at her.
They crossed another narrow strip of lawn and plunged into a maze of trees and plants, peppered with topiary animals. As they marched deeper into the garden, the chatter of birds and rustling movements of small animals thinned until a deep silence settled around them. Apparently squirrels were brighter than they were when it came to confronting CK's grandfather.
Tension radiated off of her and her expression had pressed into pale determination. Ryan gave her a reassuring smile. "Nobody can freak us out more than family."
"I'm not freaked out," she answered, tightly. "I'm angry. He's keeping me from an important meeting and an inbox full of email, probably for some silly reason like he doesn't appreciate how I worded my last business report."
Ryan frowned at a four-foot cat made out of holly. As he passed, he imagined the thing's eyeless face watching him with malevolent glee. "I don't know. Winston sounded pretty cryptic back there."
The path took a sharp turn to the left and dumped into a large clearing. In the center of the smooth grass stood the green, leafy elephants, posed as if in the act of lumbering across a meadow. The first sculpture was big, maybe ten feet to the back. A few feet away from it, a second, slightly smaller elephant loomed. Flying out from behind its head were bits and pieces of leaves and debris and a steady, low mutteri
ng. Ryan resisted the urge to wipe suddenly damp palms on the back of his slacks.
"Brace yourself." Squaring her shoulders, CK marched toward the front of the smaller elephant with as much raw courage as one of the animals the bushes pretended to be. Ryan couldn't say he felt the same. With apprehension riding him like a sadistic jockey, he lengthened his stride to catch up to her.
When he cleared the elephant, he sucked in a sharp breath of astonishment and came to a dumfounded stop. His courage hadn't failed him, he knew he'd walk through fire to see CK happy—taking this job had proved that. No, his shock sprang directly from the sight of Joshua Edward Franklin Kazner, otherwise known as the Captain.
Dressed in an 1811 French captain's uniform, minus the feathered hat which lay on a marble bench behind him, the Captain attacked a bushy baby elephant with a set of sharp-looking clippers and a frightening level of gusto. Stocky, but fit, with closely cropped white hair and an impressive mustache of the same color, he glanced at CK and then snipped off a sprig from the ear of the topiary.
He straightened up, pale green eyes assessing her from under the shadow of thick, white eyebrows. When that icy gaze shifted to Ryan, he found himself automatically snapping to attention like a green recruit.
The Captain jabbed his clippers in Ryan's direction. "This young man looks healthy and capable. Can I assume he is the one?"
CK stopped a couple feet away from the baby elephant, her finger tapping like crazy on her thigh. "The one what?"
"The one you intend to marry!"
Choking, Ryan dropped back a step, dismay shooting through him. "Sir?"
"Don't be gross," CK said, anger flashing in her eyes like fireworks. "This is my associate, Ryan Anderson."
"I work for her."
A muscle ticked along CK's jaw. "His contribution was a major factor in our sky-rocketing profits last quarter."
The Captain turned his beady gaze on Ryan. "What the devil kind of man are you? Why don't you want to marry my granddaughter?"
He stared at the older man and struggled to control his mounting anger and alarm. "We're just friends."
"Gay, huh? Pity."
"What? I'm not—" CK gave him a warning glance. With a supreme act of will, Ryan kept his mouth shut. He was quickly gaining a healthy dislike for the Captain. As well as an understanding of CK's aversion to seeing her grandfather.
He pressed his mouth into a tight line and contented himself with making no effort to hide his dislike of the older man.
The Captain gave him a piercing once-over and then dismissed him to focus on CK, again. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he said, his voice edged with robust outrage.
"Regarding what, exactly?"
Her grandfather's face turned red and he waved the clippers at her. "What do you mean, regarding what, you impertinent jackanape! I informed you of my expectations six months ago in a memo. Do I see results? No sir! I do not! I see gay business associates who are no good to me in this matter!"
CK glared at him. "Maybe you addressed the memo to 'mister' and it got re-routed."
The Captain swept his hat off the bench and slapped it against his left thigh, raising a puff of dust. "These delay tactics will not be tolerated! What happened to that Jamison fool will not happen to me, by thunder. I will not see everything this family has worked for—" He sputtered to a stop and seemed to make an effort to get his temper under control.
"I still don't know what you're talking about," CK spat.
"I'm talking about your responsibilities. I'm talking about the future of this company!" he exploded.
CK braced her fists on her hips. "You handed the company over to me, remember?"
"With controlling stock."
"I run things, now, and business is booming."
"Except in this most crucial area."
"I had to reschedule crucial work to be here and I don't appreciate that."
The Captain lowered his clippers and glanced at Ryan. He didn't like the cagey gleam entering the older man's eyes. "You are dismissed, sir."
"Move a muscle and no per diem on that last client lunch. With Tracy," she said with satisfaction.
"No need for threats," Ryan said, bracing his legs apart and crossing his arms over his chest. A man could only take so much from obnoxious bastards.
"Get out, or you're fired," her grandfather replied. As if that mattered to Ryan.
CK took a step toward the Captain. "You didn't hire him. You can't fire him."
"Ownership of this company says I can."
"Eighteen percent growth since I hired him says you'd be a fool to."
They glowered at each other. Finally, the Captain gave a grudging nod. Ryan had never been so proud of CK.
"Nothing leaves this garden. Top secret, understand?" the old man said.
That was his cue. Nothing worse than family drama. Ryan turned to go.
CK grabbed his arm, her desperate grip sending a jolt of awareness over him. His heart rate jumped from the surprise of her small hand digging into his bicep.
Whatever the Captain was about to say, meant trouble. Maybe for both of them.
* * *
"Don't you dare leave," CK said, firmly holding on to Ryan. The dense bunching of muscle under her hand felt solid and reassuring and she wasn't giving that up. Not at a time like this. He nodded and she released him, turning her attention to the Captain.
She was so angry and embarrassed, every breath she took seemed to burn through her chest like lava. She couldn't believe he'd had the outrageous gall to suggest she and Ryan were together.
Not that she hadn't had her occasional fantasy about it, sure. A guy as gorgeous as Ryan inspired that in every woman who laid eyes on him. Which was exactly the point. With competition like that, what chance did she have?
Instead, she'd enjoyed a comfortable friendship with him that had lasted a thousand times longer than anything he'd ever experienced with any other woman and she liked it that way. No heartache, no awkwardness, just good, solid, brotherly affection. The Captain had almost spoiled that.
She'd seen the horror and panic that had exploded across Ryan's face when her grandfather had assumed they were together. Mentioning marriage to him was the kiss of death. She'd seen it happen over and over with the women he'd dated and she sure didn't want it happening to her. She didn't know what she'd do without Ryan in her life.
The Captain gave her another cagey look and then stalked to the Victorian-styled garden bench. After propping the clippers next to his gold-capped walking stick, he eased himself down and settled in comfortably.
Laying his hat across his lap, he gazed steadily at her. "Since my memos are obviously unworthy of your attention, let me spell this out for you. You have sadly neglected your most important role in this company. Indeed, your most important role in this family."
"I couldn't devote more time to Kazners if I installed a bedroom in my office," she said, sounding insulted.
"That would certainly expedite things," he said, impatiently.
Frustration boiled up in a hot wave through CK's stomach. "I have no idea what you're talking about. What the heck is your point?"
He sat forward, his eyes blazing, his expression furious. "The point is you, sir! You! The first born! The only born!"
She refused to be intimidated. "The girl who should have been a boy?" she answered, sharply.
"No, the devil take it! The girl who should know her duty and do it! I will not—the future of this family—of Kazners—!" He sputtered to a stop, frustration gripping his expression. "Do I make myself clear?"
"No, you miserable old bear!"
The Captain slammed his hat down on the bench, grabbed his cane, and launched to his feet. "I will dance at your wedding within the month and see the results of that sacred union within a year, or you will be cut off without a cent," he thundered, shaking the cane at her. "Without a cent, do you hear! No more money. No more Kazners. No more anything!"
Shock hit her like a bucket o
f ice water. CK staggered back. Lose Kazners? He couldn't mean it. Her job was her life. All she'd ever known.
She couldn't lose Kazners. Her knees gave out and she sagged toward Ryan.
He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her against him. "You can't threaten someone into marriage."
The sudden intimacy of his arm wrapped around her waist and the solid, muscular contours of his body pressing against her back sent a tremor of awareness vibrating through CK. The strength of it pushed her heart into overdrive and filled her with embarrassment.
Struggling out of his grip she pushed him roughly away. His look of dismay only fueled her rage and hurt and she turned on the Captain, a fierce determination firing her blood.
"I'll sue," she snapped.
The Captain gave her a smug smile. "My team of lawyers will block anything you can throw out there."
Her rage deepened. He was right and she knew it. Kazners employed the best and no one in their right mind would go up against them.
She scowled at him and yanked her jacket into place. "You impossible, stubborn, aggravating old—" She bit down on the word she so very much wanted to call him.
"I expect regular reports on your progress."
"I expect to be treated with a little more respect."
"By the end of the month and not a day more."
Ryan stepped up beside her and gave the Captain a disgusted look. "You can't make her get married."
"I can and I will. She's her own worst enemy, boy. I have to put a stop to it before it's too late." Her grandfather, the last of her family, scooped up his clippers and ambled over to the baby elephant as happy as a lark now that he'd succeeded in turning her day into a nightmare.
A hiss of frustration and hurt escaped from between her clenched teeth. "The only enemy I see right now is you."
CK spun on her heel and stormed from the garden.
* * *
"Don't put me through that, again." Ryan slumped against the seat of the limo, breathing hard. The soft leather of the Jaguar's upholstery plastered itself to the sweat seeping through his dress shirt. He sat forward, pulling loose of its grip and gave CK a hard look.
