“This is where the will becomes…ah…shall we say, a bit original.” Matthew Chamberlain looked from one to the other over his glasses.
“Original? What do you mean, original?” Allison was leaning toward him, hands gripping the edge of the table. “Those controlling shares have to belong to my mother.”
“Actually, no.” The attorney returned his attention to his papers. “They were left in a trust, to be administered jointly by its members.”
“A trust? Members? What members? Who?”
“That I can’t tell you, Ms. Armstrong. Mr. Adams made the concealment of their identities a top priority. Oh, and there is another stipulation. No one of the property holders can sell their shares unless all parties are in agreement. Now, if you’ll both just sign here where it states that you’ve heard and understand…”
He slid the sheaf of papers toward Allison, indicated where she was to sign, and offered her his pen.
“I’m not signing anything until I have my corporate lawyer examine the document.” Allison stood and put her hands on her hips.
“Ms. Anderson, I assure you it’s all perfectly legal and unshakeable.” Matthew Chamberlain, QC, got up to face her. “Jack Adams spent time and effort making this will. It’s one of the most ironclad I’ve ever encountered.”
“Nevertheless, I insist on further legal advice.”
“Very well.” The lawyer gave an exasperated sigh and began to gather up his papers. “You can pick up a copy from my office when you come into town. I’ll have my secretary prepare one for you.”
“Thank you.” She glanced defiantly over at Heath. The calm coolness on his handsome, sun-bronzed face made her hate him even more.
Five minutes later, Allison watched as Matthew Chamberlain got into his rented Tracker and drove away.
“Seems we finally have something in common.” Heath turned from watching the lawyer out of sight and looked up at her.
She stood on the top step of the Lodge’s back porch, leaning against the door, her hands clasped behind her, her head thrown back so that she gazed skyward.
“There has to be a mistake. Gramps would never do anything this crazy.”
“It’s what he wanted, and we owe it to him to try to make it work.”
“Maybe you owe him. I certainly don’t!”
She whirled and would have strode into the Lodge had he not bounded catlike up the steps and seized her arm. He spun her to face him, eyes narrowed.
“Oh, yes, you do, Miss High-and-Mighty! You owe him for years of neglect and loneliness. Jack understood the reason for your mother’s absences—her fundraising for needy sick kids—and he was proud of her. But you! You had lots of time for vacations at all the holiday hot spots. He showed me the postcards. But not a single day to visit your grandfather. There’s no excuse good enough for what you did.”
“Let me go! Don’t you dare try to heap guilt on me. Not when you’re responsible. Not when you were the last one to see him alive!”
“Oh, so we’re back to that, are we?” Their faces were inches apart as they stood glaring at each other against the kitchen door. “I suppose the will further strengthens my culpability as a murder suspect, does it?”
“Your vocabulary may have gotten better, but not your manners,” she shot back. “I’m catching the afternoon plane to Toronto. My corporate lawyer will have this mess straightened out by the weekend. My mother will own this place, lock, stock, and barrel, and you’ll be out on the street!”
She shrugged free of his restraining hand, yanked open the screen door, all but knocking him off the step, and strode into the Lodge.
****
What was he going to do about her? Heath stood on the back steps and drew a deep breath. That will had landed him and her in a fine mess. Bound like Siamese twins in ownership of the Chance, they’d have to find some way to coexist until they discovered who held that powerful two percent. Then, and only then, could they begin to resolve the situation.
Too bad it had to be her entangled with him. She hadn’t changed. She was still one stuck-up rich girl with no appreciation of this place Jack Adams had taught him to love and respect. And the way she’d treated Jack all those years, refusing to visit him, leaving him alone after his wife had died… Heartless little bitch.
Loosening his tie and yanking it off over his head, he strode toward his cabin. Who had he been trying to impress by wearing this stupid monkey suit? Had he been stupid enough to think he could throw her for a loop by showing her he could look as sharp as any of those corporate types she worked with at the supposedly impressive job in the city?
Hell! I’m not some city dude. I could see the contempt in her eyes when she looked at me at the church. I dressed for the funeral in remembrance of Jack and the good times. He wouldn’t have recognized me in this getup. Damn it, he’d be laughing if he could see me now.
He took the steps to his home two at a time and strode inside. The homey ambience of the place had a calming effect. He removed his jacket and let the peace of the small kitchen restore his equilibrium. What did it matter what he’d done, what he wore? In a few hours she’d be on a plane back to Toronto. With any luck, the lawyers would handle everything, and he’d never have to see her again.
He went into his bedroom, pulled off his clothes, hung his suit in the closet, and headed into the bathroom. He’d showered that morning, but the encounter with Matthew Chamberlain and Allison had left him hot and sticky.
As the water gushed over him, he tried to keep the thought of her as a royal pain, as a burr in his side, but the image of her in those stupid pink pajamas flooded across his mind, and he couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at his lips. Another image formed and more than his lips reacted. The image of her in his arms, the sensation of her lips, her body molding into his…
She’s a miserable, money-grubbing little witch. Don’t go getting hot after her. That would be just plain stupid.
His body didn’t listen. It had a mind of its own where beautiful, sexy Allison Armstrong was concerned. And he hated it.
He was pulling on his bush pants when a knock sounded at his door.
“Heath?” Damn it, what now?
“Yeah?”
“I’m ready.”
“Ready?”
“To go to the airport. You have to drive me. Well, that is, unless you want me to take the Cherokee and leave it there for you to pick up…which would be difficult since then you’d have two vehicles in town…”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” He pulled a clean white T-shirt over his head and grabbed a plaid shirt from the closet. Man, I’ll be glad when she’s gone.
In the kitchen, she stood by the door in a shaft of afternoon sunlight and a soft orange turtleneck that accentuated her peaches-and-cream complexion and the soft, shining, artistic tangle of her chestnut curls. Some brand of expensive, hip-hugging jeans highlighted the alluring curves below. Oh, hell, and double hell. Body behave…just for another hour or so.
****
“Do you date much?”
“What?” His head jerked to face her. They were driving down the highway toward the airport a half hour later when she broke the silence they’d maintained all the way from the Chance.
“I asked if you date much. Women must be pretty scarce, away back in the woods. Available women, that is.” He caught the innuendo.
“I don’t fool around with guests, married or otherwise.” He returned his attention to the road and fought to control the annoyance that had formed a sharper retort. “Don’t try to be subtle about asking.”
“What about the local ladies?” Head held high and slightly cocked, she stared through the windshield into the spring sunlight.
“I don’t see how my social life is any concern of yours.” He gripped the wheel until his knuckles were hard as walnuts.
“I guess it isn’t, not really. I’m just curious to see if you’ll be leaving any romantic interest when I terminate your position. Or maybe you’ll stay
in Portage and get a job cutting timber or guiding hunters.”
“You’re really trying to get to me, are you?” He tried to ignore the anger swelling in his gut. “You hate me that much?”
“That much.” She swung to face him, and he saw fury snapping from eyes as green as the burgeoning leaves at the Chance.
“Okay, fine.” He turned the Cherokee into the parking lot of the small airport, where a commuter plane was warming up on the runway. “Seems like we’ve made it.” He swung to a stop at the terminal doors and got out, his rapid strides to the back of the vehicle punctuating his annoyance.
“Here.” He plunked her suitcase at the entrance. “Safe journey.”
With a plethora of feelings roiling in his gut, he climbed back into the Jeep and gunned back toward the highway. He had to find some way to get that irritating woman out from under his skin.
Wonder what Jesse is doing for dinner tonight?
He swung the Jeep into the parking lot beside the former Victorian lumber baron’s house that now served at the town’s clinic and emergency hospital. Climbing out, he grinned as he read the sign: Dr. Jessica Henderson, MD. Yeah, that’s just what I need…an evening with the good doctor.
“Heath.” The silver-haired receptionist rose to greet him as he entered the foyer that had been converted into a now-empty waiting room. “It’s so good to see you. How have you been?” She lowered her tone over the last sentence. “You must miss Jack. I saw you at the funeral yesterday but didn’t get an opportunity to talk to you or his daughter. The chestnut-haired girl in the black suit must have been Jack’s granddaughter. My, she’s grown into quite a lady…a big-city lady, that is.”
Heath caught the note of deprecation in her last sentence and had to hold back a grin. He knew Mrs. Henderson had hopes for her own daughter and him. She wouldn’t welcome anyone who might push that dream any further from reality.
“She is that. Big city, that is. I just put her on a plane back to Toronto. Is Jesse busy?”
“No, no, finished with the last patient before you came in.” The alacrity in her tone upped immediately. “Wait here. I’ll fetch her.”
Heath let the grin come as she bustled into the office behind her desk. Some day he and Jesse would have to tell her the truth about their relationship. Man, he wasn’t looking forward to that day. Somehow he couldn’t see Mrs. Henderson accepting the friends-with-benefits thing.
****
“So she’s on her way back to Toronto to see if her lawyers can screw you out of your share of the Chance.” Doctor Jessica Henderson replaced her wine glass on the table and looked over at Heath. They were seated in Douglas O’Brien’s restaurant, the only eatery in Portage other than a couple of fast-food outlets. A candle cast shadows over the couple in the room bathed in twilight and the scent of freshly baked bread and apple pies.
“I guess.” He shrugged as he reached for his beer.
“Heath, you can’t let her do it.” A strong, slender hand reached to cover his on the bottle. “You love that place. Jack loved that place. You owe it to both of you to fight back.”
“How?” He looked over at her.
“Get your own lawyer.” He saw the blaze in her brown eyes, Man, she was beautiful.
“If you hadn’t become a doctor, you could have been a model, or an actress, or…”
“Stop avoiding the subject.” She pulled her hand away and glared at him. “One of your most attractive character traits has always been your determination to keep Jack’s dream alive at the Chance. I’m not about to let you lose it simply because some Toronto businesswoman decides to give you a run for your rights.”
“I like it when you have fire in your eyes.” His lips quirked up on one corner. “Okay, I’ll give it a fight. But lawyers cost big bucks. Jack paid me a decent wage, but I didn’t get rich. The bit I put aside is for my mother’s retirement. I can’t go risking it on the outside chance I might win in a civil case against someone with the connections Allison Armstrong must have.”
“I can help.” She spoke softly, carefully. “If it’s only money that’s holding you back…”
“Hell, Jesse, as if I’d take money from you!”
“Okay, okay. Just something I wanted to throw out there. No need to take major offense.”
“Sorry.” He returned his attention to his beer.
“She’s still getting to you…even after more than twelve years.” He looked up to see her dark eyes, serious and insightful. “My God, Heath, a girl you fell in love with all that long ago…”
“I never said I fell in love with her.” The words snapped out sharper than he’d intended. “Sorry, again.” He moderated his tone. “It was a teenage thing that she killed with her spoiled brat persona. Love? I hardly think so. I’d say a lingering animosity is more descriptive of our relationship.”
“Really?” Her fingers toyed with the stem of her wine glass as she gazed down into the Chardonnay. “Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just hmm. Wondering, speculating.”
“Well, then, don’t. We’re out to enjoy the evening.”
“And maybe back to my place afterwards?”
****
He paused at the door of her house as she fumbled for the key in her purse. They’d done this many times over the years, when they both needed to share a night without commitment or morning-after guilt. She had no desire to be tied to anyone or anything aside from her medical practice, and he for some reason had never been able to get seriously involved with anyone or anything outside of the Chance.
He watched as she fitted the key in the lock, shoved open the door, clicked on the foyer light, and turned back to face him, smiling. “Well?” She held out a hand.
“Hell, Jesse…” He was stumbling, as awkward as he’d been on that rotten high school date all those years ago.
“Oh, my God. Don’t tell me. She comes back after all these years, gives you one hell of a hard time, and now we can’t be friends with benefits anymore.” Clamping her hands on her hips, she stared out at him.
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just not…”
“In the mood, have a headache, need to get up early? Come on, Heath, spit out all the old clichés.”
“Jesse…”
“What am I saying?” Her words softened as she stepped back outside to stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. “I knew this day was coming. The day when she’d either return or you’d really and truly fall in love with someone. Not to worry, my darling. I understand.”
She turned, went inside, and closed the door. He stood on the step for a few moments. When she snapped off the porch light, he headed back to his Jeep.
Man, you’re an idiot. A gorgeous woman is willing to go to bed with you, and you blow it. That snotty little brown-haired wench from Toronto has done one hell of a job on you. You’d better get over it, and fast.
Chapter Six
Allison turned left, then right. Finally she swung all the way around and glanced back over her shoulder at her reflection in the full-length mirror of her bedroom in her parents’ house, the room she’d had growing up, the one she now slept in during visits such as this. She’d decided to stop off to talk with her mother before returning to her apartment, before consulting her lawyer. Her mother always seemed to have a handle on every situation, no matter how difficult. Furthermore, she remembered she’d promised to attend a hospital fundraiser sponsored by her mother’s committee.
A smile tipping her lips, she swung around once more. Yes, there was definitely something to be said for the simple little black dress.
“What do you think, Jack?” She addressed her mother’s standard poodle where he lounged on her bed. Myra had objected to having the dog trimmed into any traditional poodle fashion. He had a full coat of pure white. If he hadn’t been kept in shape by proper diet and exercise, he might have looked like a large cotton ball. As it was, he was slim and trim, a prime example of his breed. At Allison’s w
ords, he bolted alert and gave a sharp bark.
“You approve? Good. First male opinion of the evening.”
She adjusted one of the spaghetti straps over her bare shoulder, patted the artistic tangle of curls that had taken Gino, her hair stylist, two hours to concoct, and wished Heath could see her now. He’d be at a definite disadvantage in his bush pants and plaid shirt. Lord, she hated that man. She couldn’t wait for her father’s lawyer to obliterate that will. She’d send him packing so fast it would make his head spin, Snowy River hat and all. She’d tried to begin discussions of the situation with her parents on her arrival, but she’d barely had time to outline the conditions of the will when her mother insisted it was time to get ready for the benefit.
“We’ll discuss it in the morning, honey,” she’d said.
“Allison, are your ready? Your father and I have to leave soon.”
Her mother’s voice from downstairs brought her back to the moment.
“Coming,” she called, checking her pearl earrings and realizing how well they set off her creamy complexion. She snatched up a black evening jacket and handbag from her bed and hurried downstairs, Jack at her heels.
“Wow, Mom, you look terrific.” Allison’s tone reflected the sincerity of her admiration when she saw her mother in a floor-length, long-sleeved gown of electric blue, her golden hair elegantly drawn into an upswept style.
“Doesn’t she?” Allison’s six-foot-tall father, looking the epitome of sophistication in his excellently tailored tuxedo, chestnut hair touched with gray at the temples, beamed down on his wife. “She’ll have every man at this barn dance grabbing their checkbook and giving to those sick kids till it hurts. Her daughter doesn’t look too shabby, either.”
He turned his attention to Allison and grinned broadly, cowboy roots showing through the veneer of big city surgeon.
“That’s enough flattery, you two.” Myra smiled at the pair. “Allison, I am pleased you agreed to attend this fundraiser with us. We don’t spend nearly enough time together as a family.”
Oh, God, Mom, don’t you start on the family neglect bit. It’s bad enough I have Gramps’ version of the last original woodsman on my back.
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