The Boss Man's Fortune (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 5)

by Kathryn Jensen

  “Really?” she mused.

  “I would have been disappointed if I hadn’t been allowed to participate. But I wasn’t worried. It’s a tradition that the eldest son take over the company when his father resigns.” He slowed the car to take a turn, and checked his rearview mirror to make sure he hadn’t lost Dennis, following behind in his rental car. “But I didn’t walk straight into the CEO’s job.”

  “No?” She loved to hear him talk. He had a rich, mesmerizing voice.

  “I had to go to college, get a business degree, then work my way up through the ranks. I love what I do.” He looked at her, and she could see in the way his eyes gleamed with life that it was true.

  “What about the rest of your life?” she asked. “When you’re not working.”

  “Not much time for hobbies.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said gently. “You once told me you wanted a family.”

  “I do, with the right woman, when the time is right.”

  He turned once more, this time into a long driveway of crushed oyster shells, and pointed ahead at an ornate wrought-iron gate inscribed with the familiar D&D emblem. “This is it, Crofthaven.”

  She had expected a big house. Something spacious—graciously Old South, or maybe Nouveau Plantation. Katherine wasn’t prepared for the grandeur of the beautifully landscaped grounds, tastefully lit by electric lanterns and hidden floodlights, or for the house itself when it came into view.

  The mansion was of the Georgian style, popular in Savannah as well. Tall white columns graced a lofty front portico. Although additions might have been built onto the back of the house to expand it, the original main house must have been over a hundred years old, perhaps had even survived the Civil War. She could imagine dozens of beautiful, period-furnished rooms inside—formal parlors, dining room, ballroom, a library and many private bedrooms on upper floors. Even lit only by moonlight, the place took her breath away.

  “The staff will have retired to their quarters for the night. But Cook usually leaves something good in the refrigerator for unexpected guests,” Ian said as he stopped the car and Dennis pulled up behind them.

  “I’m not very hungry,” she said.

  In fact her stomach was in a turmoil. Seeing her brother and Ian locked in mortal combat earlier had shaken her more than she’d realized at the time. She longed for simple comfort food. Something warm and soothing.

  “Well, maybe a cup of hot chocolate?” she thought out loud as Dennis joined them.

  “Done,” Ian said as he lifted from the car’s trunk her overnight case, hurriedly packed with toiletries and a change of clothing. They’d stopped by her apartment for a few things on their way.

  “I’ll be good until breakfast,” Dennis assured him as he trailed after them into the foyer of the grand house.

  Her brother looked around, eyes narrowed critically, but she could tell he was impressed and a little taken aback by the Southern opulence. The house they’d grown up in, overlooking a vast desert, was roomy and casually comfortable in the Southwestern style. Their mother had decorated with an eye to preserving elements of her husband’s Native American heritage. But the rambling ranch-style home, even with its pricey, modern fixtures and appliances, wasn’t what anyone would call an estate.

  Ian led them up the stairs to a second floor and down a long hallway lined with closed doors. He passed by several then opened one on his left. “Dennis, I think you’ll find this comfortable. There’s a private bath off to the side, and the morning sun warms up the balcony outside the French doors. The desk has a phone and the line is Internet ready if you want to plug in and check your e-mail. I notice you have a laptop with you.”

  “This is very generous of you, Ian,” Dennis said. “Most employers wouldn’t go to such lengths.” Katherine began to relax a little at her brother’s slightly friendlier tone, although he did sound curious about her relationship to Ian. “I take it my sister—”

  “Will have a proper room of her own directly across the hall from yours,” Ian supplied quickly. “I’m the first door on the right after you came up the stairs, in case either of you need me.”

  Was it her imagination, or had he added that last bit for her benefit? She intentionally avoided his eyes even as she felt herself blush.

  “Cook usually has coffee on and croissants or bagels available by six in the morning. I’ll leave a note for her to arrange a full breakfast in the dining room by seven-thirty. But sleep in if you feel like it. I expect, after your sister-hunting adventures, you’re pretty tired.”

  “It wasn’t the hunting that knocked the wind out of my sails.” Dennis touched his swollen lip.

  Katherine wanted to say he’d deserved getting slugged but thought better of it and just gave him a good-night kiss on the cheek. After all, maybe her family couldn’t help seeing themselves as her protectors. It was going to take some reeducating to convince them she didn’t need someone looking over her shoulder every minute of every day.

  She followed Ian across the hall. He said nothing, just opened the door to the room she was to stay in and turned on the light.

  A gasp slipped between her lips. The bedroom was decorated in shades of pearl-white, buttery cream and ivory with textures ranging from sateen-smooth to rich, deeply woven brocades. The only touches of color were an occasional whisper of pink in bolsters on the bed, tiebacks for the draperies, and a collection of delicate crystal perfume bottles and atomizers on the dressing table. The effect was of sun-warmed ice. She loved it.

  “Whose room is this?” she asked.

  “It was to be the nursery,” he said simply.

  Her heart stopped. She just didn’t know what to say. “Oh, Ian.” It took her a moment to recover. “It doesn’t look like a baby’s room at all.”

  “No. You see, my wife and I were going to live at Crofthaven, since my father was away more often than at home. But after—After the miscarriage, I hired an interior decorator to come in and—” he gestured, as if erasing painful memories with one sweep of his hand “—just paint it all white, I told her. Get rid of the primary colors and zoo animals.”

  She went to him, took his hand and held it to her heart as she faced him. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to bring me to this room. I can stay in another. Really.”

  “No,” he said, “I wanted you to see it.”

  “Why?” She couldn’t imagine.

  “I guess…I guess I just wanted you to know how hard it was to let go of the idea of being a father. I’m not sure.”

  She shook her head. “You’re still a young man. You can marry again.” Her throat closed behind the words. She didn’t want to imagine Ian with anyone else. She took time to really study him. His features were so strong and fine—his children would be beautiful.

  “As they say,” he muttered, “it takes two to tango.”

  He started to turn away, but she reached out and held him there, his right fist enclosed in her two hands like the center of a flower within her petals. He looked down at her. “What are you trying to do to me, Katherine?”

  “I’m not sure. I just want you to know you can trust me. I’m sorry I lied to get my job. I’m sorry I misled you about my family life.” He tried to turn away, but she stepped into his new line of sight. “Please listen to me. I took my college roommate’s name because she suggested it. She’s working in Europe for a year, and said I could have her apartment and borrow her name just long enough to get away from my family and start a life of my own. It seemed the perfect arrangement at the time. I know now it was wrong of me not to contact them. But you see what happened when they found me.”

  “Your brother said he just wanted to talk to you. I doubt he’d have hauled you back to Arizona against your will.”

  She laughed. “You don’t know the men in my family. Oh sure, the Fortunes love their wives, daughters and sisters, but being males, and even more naturally pigheaded than most—”

  “I’m offended!”

  “�
��they believe they’re always right. They run their own lives and everyone else’s by their rules.”

  It was the first smile she’d been able to coax out of him in far too long a time. “And some people say I’m a control freak.”

  “Well…” She widened her eyes at him in gentle accusation.

  He laughed and lifted her comforting hands to his lips, and kissed each of her knuckles separately. “I don’t drag my women home by the hair like a caveman.” His smile melted away. “Maybe I’m just as bad, though. I did force a woman to keep a baby and talked her into marrying me. That wasn’t right.”

  “I don’t suppose it was,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re a bad man. And it doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right decision at the time.”

  He paused a moment, then stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. She sensed the embrace was as much to console himself as to hold her for the sensual pleasure of it.

  “The one thing I learned from that tragedy is that there’s nothing more important than love and trust. There can’t be one without the other.”

  “I agree,” she said.

  “If Lara and I had truly loved each other, we might have stayed together, tried again. But I spoiled everything by forcing her to make decisions about marriage and children before she was ready. I often wonder if she had a premonition, of sorts, that our baby wouldn’t live. Maybe that was why she didn’t at first want to keep it.”

  “You’re probably reading far too much into her decision.”

  He let out a long breath. “Maybe. But now there’s this thing happening between us, Katherine. And I—” He moved her away from him just enough to look down into her eyes “—I still believe trust is crucial to any good relationship. And I don’t know that I can trust you.”

  His words scraped her very soul raw.

  Katherine swallowed and blinked up at him, willing herself not to cry. “I’m not the sort of person who runs around telling lies and deceiving people. It’s just that I ran out of ways of dealing with my family. I had to separate myself from them.”

  She watched his eyes for any sign of judgment or blame, but his expression was carefully neutral.

  “So what’s your next move?” he asked, brushing his lips absently against her temple. His touch sent delicious shivers through her.

  “I promised Den I’d call them, and I will. Soon.”

  “You could always fly home just for a short visit, to reassure them you’re still the daughter they know and love.”

  She shook her head. “No. Not yet. If I go back, I might not have the willpower to leave again. I have to finish what I came here to do—prove I can survive without a parachute supplied by the Fortune money and name.”

  He drew her back against his chest and stroked her hair. When she looked up, he kissed her with such tenderness, she felt herself drifting toward a place they’d been before. An exciting, wild, delicious place.

  She hoped that he wouldn’t leave her that night. He might stay in this beautiful room with her, and they’d make love all the night long.

  But he grasped her upper arms and firmly set her back from him.

  “Ian?” she whispered.

  “No. We can’t do it, Katherine, not with this between us.” He touched the tip of her nose. “Not that it won’t tear me apart to walk out of here, with you looking so damn—” he winced “—edible.”

  “But—”

  His eyes hardened. “Accomplish what you need to do. I’ll be around to help you but only if you ask.”

  “But what about us? You and me?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t get seriously involved with a woman who’s just visiting my life while she discovers her own. The woman I’m looking for must be willing to become a Danforth and help me make a family.”

  She felt empty inside. Dead. She couldn’t speak.

  He continued gently. “I understand that’s not what you’re looking for, Katherine. It’s what you’re running from.”

  He gave her a pained look. Then he was going out the door, closing it behind him.

  “But,” she whispered, “I love you.”

  Nine

  Ian pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, grateful when the morning sun rose to join him. Sleep had been nearly impossible. He’d agonized the night away in the room that had been his as a boy and was kept for his use whenever he visited the estate.

  Another man, he told himself, wouldn’t have walked out of Katherine’s room last night. Another man would have said to hell with the future. If Katherine wanted him for short-term gratification, then why not?

  But he suspected a fling with Katherine would inevitably become more than that, and he knew only too well how hurtful a relationship could become when the people involved didn’t agree on the important things in life, like marriage, children and honesty.

  Those were the deal breakers.

  Still it had been three in the morning before he stopped contemplating a quick sprint down the hallway to her room. Four o’clock before he’d finally fallen into a short, troubled slumber.

  By seven he was ready for a run, figured he’d beaten everyone else out of bed. But as he approached the kitchen intending to check out Florence’s preparations for breakfast, he could hear laughter coming from the kitchen.

  Curious, he pushed through the heavy oak door to find Katherine on the phone, a cup of coffee in her free hand. His father’s cook, Florence, was shoving a plate with a toasted English muffin and mound of orange marmalade in front of her.

  Katherine looked up when he came in but kept talking. “I know. I realize the disaster I’ve caused in the newspapers, and I’m sorry I worried you and Mom.” When she looked up at him, she grimaced. My father, she mouthed, and suddenly she looked so very young his heart ached. Twenty-two. It seemed forever since he’d been that age.

  “Do you want anything now, Ian?” Florence asked.

  “Thank you, nothing for the moment. I’ll be back for a big breakfast.” If he couldn’t satisfy one hunger, he’d work on another. Ian gave Katherine a thumbs-up for good luck.

  Thirty minutes later, he was back from a two-mile jog along the shore. Sweating and famished, he snatched up the towel he’d left on a peg just inside the kitchen door and slung it around his neck.

  “Now don’t you come dripping yourself all over my clean kitchen floor,” Florence said. “It’s unsanitary with all this food out.” She shooed him straight through the kitchen and into the hall. “Come back when you’re cleaned up. Breakfast will be on the table.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, catching a brief glimpse of Katherine laughing at him as she continued murmuring responses into the phone.

  Katherine waited until Ian returned before she started in on her own breakfast, even though her muffin would be cold. She had asked Florence to let them eat in the kitchen; it felt cozier here than in the immense formal dining room. Ian sat across from her at the long, wooden trestle table, his plate piled with fried eggs, grits golden with melted cheese, biscuits fresh out of the oven and thick slices of grilled ham.

  “So, how’d it go with your folks?” he asked.

  “I was on the phone for over an hour.” She shook her head, sipping the orange juice she’d helped Florence squeeze only minutes before. “They passed the phone around. I had to talk to my brothers after I’d spoken with Mom and Dad, then with my grandparents. I’ve been scolded enough for a lifetime.”

  “They weren’t glad you called?”

  She crunched into her muffin then sipped her coffee. It was the way she liked it—strong, with real cream and two sugars. The marmalade tasted homemade, tart and just sweet enough.

  “It’s not that. They just think I’m an idiot for doing what I did.” She sighed. “I guess it was pretty childish of me not to stay and work things out, but I got so tired of it all.”

  “Maybe now they’ll realize you have a breaking point. They might ease up if you went back.”

  This was the second time he’d mentioned
her going home, and her stomach clenched at his words.

  “Do you want me to leave, Ian? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “What I want isn’t the point. You need to find whatever makes you happy. Maybe you don’t realize what that is yet.”

  “Maybe,” she murmured.

  It made her sad to think that Ian could so easily suggest her leaving. Wouldn’t he miss her even a little? What had happened between them was special to her. Yet he seemed to be able to put their intimacy out of mind so easily.

  “Morning all!”

  Katherine looked up from her plate to see Dennis stride with irritating exuberance into the room. “You look well rested.”

  “Slept like a baby. Maybe because I hadn’t gotten more than a wink or two in days.”

  “I know the feeling,” Ian muttered.

  Katherine shot him a questioning look, but he merely shook his head.

  “Took a while, though, to get to sleep.” Dennis seated himself at the table with them and poured coffee from a silver carafe. “Your other guest kept me up. Poor, confused woman. Who is she?”

  “Other than you, Katherine and me, no one else was in the main part of the house last night,” Ian said, shooting a sly glance toward Florence.

  The woman seemed to be struggling to hide a smile.

  “What?” Katherine asked.

  “The young gentleman apparently was visited by our resident ghost.” She placed a plate of crisp bacon on the table, and both men dove for it.

  Katherine laughed. “No, really.”

  “Really,” Ian said casually. “Although I’m surprised she appeared to Dennis, here in the house. To my knowledge all her other visits have been outside, on the grounds or on the road to Crofthaven.”

  Dennis stared at him, then turned to his sister. “He’s pulling my leg, right?”

  “I don’t know.” She eyed Ian solemnly.

  Ian grinned at her mysteriously, forked up a bite of egg then bit off the end of a thick slice of bacon. “Many properties in and around Savannah have ghosts.”