Lexi had the grace to blush a little. “Of course. I’m afraid I don’t have Aidan’s aptitude for business.” Lexi turned to Aidan, her face a mask of sultry innocence as she played her part well.
Spencer smiled at her indulgently. “For a comparable price, Dumas Industries could provide the same services without all of the start-up costs the Celtic Goddess would incur by dealing solely with Miss Flynn. Would I be correct in assuming that might appeal to you?”
“It sounds wonderful, but surely there must be more to it than that.”
Spencer’s indulgence turned to approval. “I wish all of my business associates were as straightforward as you, Ms. Kattapoulos. I assure you, Dumas Industries only requests a simple caveat. Just a slight delay in the paperwork to ensure that all of the underlying groundwork is laid appropriately. It will work to your advantage as well.”
Lexi appeared to mull this over, letting her brows furrow ever so slightly. “Aidan? What do you think?”
He seemed to give it serious thought as well. “I think a slight delay is a reasonable expectation,” he said slowly, “given the amount of research and analysis to be considered in our final decision. You know how difficult it can be to obtain the necessary information. I don’t believe all of the county records are even digital, yet, which means things have a tendency to be misplaced rather easily.”
Lexi nodded. “It looks like you have your answer, Spencer.”
With a satisfied smile, Spencer extended his hand to Aidan. “Excellent. We will be in contact.”
“I look forward to it.”
Spencer took Lexi’s hand as well. “It has been a great pleasure meeting you, Ms. Kattapoulos. I must say, I have a greater understanding of why Mr. Harrison keeps you shrouded in such mystery.”
“And why is that?”
Instead of answering, Spencer kissed her hand again. “Until next time.”
When he was gone, Lexi sunk down into the chair, absently wiping the back of her hand on her jeans to remove any trace of Spencer’s adieu.
Aidan chuckled. “What kind of bouquet would you like? That was one hell of a performance, Lex. You had Dumas ready to melt every time you spoke the man’s name.”
“I learned from the best,” she grinned, but then her smile faded. “I’m worried. What is he up to, Aidan?”
“I don’t know, Lex. Think Ian will work some of his magic and do some digging for us?”
“Absolutely. We’ve got to tell Maggie and Michael, too.”
“Agreed.”
* * *
Maggie sighed against the warmth of Michael’s solid chest, wondering how she had ever managed without him. Her body was sated, but her mind refused to relax. Ever since Lexi called and told her about Spencer’s visit, she couldn’t stop thinking about what Spencer might be up to.
“I must be slipping,” Michael said softly against the top of her head. “Usually I’d have you exhausted by now.”
Maggie smiled lovingly into his face as he rolled her over, positioning himself above her. She opened for him, cradling his hips as he lowered his head and kissed her.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” she asked, amusement lacing her voice. Michael had always been an attentive lover, but since she’d gotten the ink brand he’d been insatiable. While she wasn’t complaining, the pregnancy often forced her to take little cat naps in between.
“Of making love to you? Not in this lifetime.” He kissed along her jaw, his tongue swirling just beneath the bone. They hadn’t taken their vows officially yet, but she was his, in every sense of the word.
“You’re worried,” he said.
Of course she was worried! Dumas Industries hadn’t become the mega-company it was by being nice and playing by the rules. Spencer was trying to sabotage her contract with the Goddess and get it for himself. Since that would involve taking her land away from her somehow – and the only home she had ever known, she felt it was a pretty good cause for a bit of concern.
“Yes,” she admitted. Apparently Dumas had been a busy boy; Ian was uncovering more every day and none of it was good. Michael was doing his best to distract her. Thus far, his strategy consisted of keeping her occupied until she fell into an exhausted sleep. As plans go it was simple, but effective, but Dumas and his schemes were always there lurking in the background.
She allowed her hand to roam along his back, feeling all of the strength and corded muscle there, while the other tangled in his silky black hair. Maggie didn’t think she would ever get used to the feel of touching him, or the way it sent little electric impulses throughout her whole body.
“Don’t be,” he said soothingly. “Ian will work his magic and we’ll handle it from there. Dumas doesn’t stand a chance against us.” He worked his way down her neck, across her collarbone, along the swell of her breasts. He ran his tongue around her nipple and blew softly, making her shiver beneath him. His teeth rasped the hardened tip, then nipped her as he eased himself into her, the slick fluids from his previous release easing his passage.
Michael began a slow, agonizing pace, withdrawing as he suckled her breast, penetrating as he nipped it. The result was a full body of sensations so intense it began to push everything else from her mind. “You’re trying to distract me again,” she said breathlessly.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured against her breast. “Is it working?”
“Definitely.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Michael made lazy circles over Maggie’s extending baby bump. Every day that his child grew inside her, he seemed even more fascinated by it.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned softly. “Don’t stop. That feels so good.” Any time Michael’s hands were on her it felt good, but she loved how the warmth of his hands seeped right down into her and their unborn. Suddenly she stilled, placing her hands over his.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Did you feel that?”
“The baby moved?”
Maggie laughed in pure joy. “Yes! I felt it! Here, Michael...” She repositioned his hands and held her breath. Michael detected the slight movement beneath his fingers.
“That was him? Are you sure?” His face held nothing but pure awe.
“Positive. There! He did it again. He knows your voice, Michael! Say something else.”
“What did Dr. Foster say today?” Michael asked carefully as he waited for the next one.
“Why?” she asked. Whenever Michael used that cautious voice she became concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Michael assured her. “But that was a hell of a kick for this stage. Have the tests come back yet – specifically the one for gestational diabetes? What about the ultrasound results? They usually include measurements.”
“No,” she said honestly. After all, it wasn’t possible to get results from tests she’d never had. “But I think it’s safe to say he’s going to be big and strong, just like his daddy.”
Michael’s eyes glowed with pride, but there was no mistaking his impatience. “What? There’s no reason it should take that long to get results back, not when they have everything right there in front of them. You know what? I’m calling Bob Foster right now.”
“Michael, please don’t do that,” Maggie begged. “It’s late.”
“He’s an OBGYN. He’s used to getting calls at all hours. Besides, he owes me. Where the hell is my cell? I’ve got his number on speed dial...” Michael rolled out of bed, slinging on some loose pants with a drawstring and disappearing from the bedroom in search of his missing phone. Maggie sunk down into the pillows, waiting for the inevitable. Wouldn’t be long now...
“Maggie?” Michael said softly a few minutes later, leaning on the doorframe. “Is there something you want to tell me, love?” He looked so hot, standing there, nothing but the low-slung sweats that clung to him deliciously. The love-tussled black hair and glowing blue eyes still had her catching her breath.
“No, not really.” It was an honest answer. She really didn’t wa
nt to tell him she hadn’t kept a single follow-up visit with the obstetrician Michael had hand-selected. One had been more than enough.
“Maggie.”
“I don’t like him.”
Michael gave her a stern look, piercing her with those intense blue eyes until she squirmed. “He’s got bad breath and cold hands that he likes to put in places they have no business being.”
* * *
Michael prayed for patience, tried to remember Maggie’s intense aversion to practically everyone in the medical profession. It had taken days of cajoling to get her to agree to go a month ago. Why he ever thought she would continue to go on her own was beside him. He should have known better. He should have insisted on driving her to each and every appointment personally.
“He’s an OB, Maggie. That’s his job.”
“No, Michael. Touching me there is your job, not his. And I can’t believe you actually want another man to be doing that sort of thing to your wife-to-be.”
For a modern, independent woman, Maggie could be terribly old-fashioned. “That sort of thing is ensuring your health and that of our baby’s. He’s a doctor, Maggie.”
“So are you. You can do it.”
“I’m not an OB. I’m not qualified.”
“You delivered Taryn’s baby.”
“That was different. There were extenuating circumstances and - ”
“And you were there for Lexi - ”
“Now that was totally - ”
“I don’t care.”
“Maggie.”
She crossed her arms and glared back at him, her green eyes just as fierce. “Michael.”
“Regular prenatal check-ups are important.”
“They’re a waste of time, that’s what they are. Taryn says all they do is weigh you – and believe me, I don’t need anyone telling me how heavy I’m getting, thank you very much. And they measure your belly – again, not necessary - listen for a heartbeat, and feel me up. You can do all those things, and it feels much better when you do it.”
“Maggie –“
But Maggie was on a roll, gaining steam, and there was no stopping her. Her words came faster, spoken with the near desperation of impending panic. “I swear I will see Lexi’s doctor at the very first sign of a problem. And, because I love you so much, I might even agree to see Foster’s assistant once in a while. I like her, plus she’s a woman who has a few kids of her own and Taryn says she is not into unnecessary groping. Until then, I will continue to do what women have been doing quite naturally for centuries, without some pervert sticking his hands up my cooch for a freebie.”
“Maggie!”
Her voice rose even higher, louder, until it became a full-fledged shriek: “Michael Patrick Callaghan, you put this baby into me and you damn sure better be the one to get it out!”
Stunned silence filled the room for several moments, but then Michael couldn’t help it. He laughed. And laughed. Until Maggie started laughing too, and neither of them stopped for quite some time.
Michael wrapped his arms around her and wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Ah, Maggie, love, I don’t know what I am going to do with you.”
“Well, my suggestion is for you to make use of all those fancy letters after your name to take care of your woman and child.”
And unfortunately, Michael could not think of a good enough argument at that moment against it.
“Is she always like this?” Sean asked Michael as he took yet another roll from the plate Maggie just placed on the table, slathering it with homemade preserves. Maggie was already back at the oven, sliding in a fresh tray and rolling out more dough.
“Only when she’s anxious,” he answered, his watchful eyes following her every movement. It had been a mistake to tell her they would be dropping by this morning with important news. She’d been up since the crack of dawn, baking. “It’s how she handles stress.”
He’d long since given up trying to convince her to sit down and rest. After Maggie refilled everyone’s coffee cups and murmured something about making more, he simply reached out with one of his long arms and snagged her, pulling her down onto his lap.
“Enough, woman. If you keep feeding them, they’ll never leave,” he said.
“Michael!”
Kieran laughed and winked at Maggie as he held up a roll. “No, he’s right. But it’s too late, Mick. We’re already hooked. These things are addicting.”
Michael groaned, but Maggie’s eyes sparkled. She had confided to him that she loved their banter and teasing, and was only too happy to indulge their massive appetites. She made a move to get up, but Michael held her to him quite easily.
“So,” Ian said finally, after everyone had had their fill and it was time to get down to it. “Here’s what it looks like.” Everyone quieted down and turned their attention to him. “Dumas is definitely trying to get his hands on Maggie’s land.”
“That’s nothing new,” Maggie muttered. “He’s been trying to do that for years.”
“No, but what is new is the fact that the Celtic Goddess is actively pursuing a contractual agreement with you for use of the land, not to mention exclusive rights to any of the organic produce and secret family recipes.”
“So?”
“So... Dumas Industries is big, but not big enough to take on the Goddess, and Dumas knows it. So he’s trying to cozy up while he can.”
“Not to mention that organics are huge right now, Mags. ‘Lucrative’ doesn’t begin to cover the deal you guys are cooking up,” Kieran added.
Maggie shrugged. “I know you probably won’t believe this, but that doesn’t really matter to me. As long as I have enough to get by, I’m happy. Spencer knows that, though he never could understand it. And he knows I’d never sell out, especially to him or his company.”
“True. But a seven-figure deal does matter a lot to Dumas, which is why he had to get creative. You won’t sell, so he’s got to go around you and get what he wants a different way.”
“Sorry, Ian. I’m not following you. What other possible way is there?”
“How does property change ownership? Death and divorce, mostly, but neither is applicable here. That leaves hostile reclamation – things like foreclosure or tax default auctions.”
“But this property isn’t mortgaged. And I pay the taxes in full and on time every year.”
Ian turned his blue gaze to her, and she felt a sudden chill. “Do you?”
“Of course I do. I’ve got copies of all of my returns. I can get them - ”
“Not necessary,” Ian said, waving his hand. “We’ve already been through them all.” Maggie was inherently glad at that moment she’d never cheated.
“Then you know I’m telling the truth.”
“Relax, Mags. No one is accusing you of cheating Uncle Sam.”
“Then what are you saying?” Michael asked somewhat impatiently.
Shane cleared his throat. He was perhaps the quietest brother Maggie had met so far, with the exception of the eldest one, Kane. Though he didn’t say much, Maggie always had the impression he was soaking in everything around him. Michael had confided to her once that Shane was the equivalent of a human computer – he had almost instant recall on everything he’d ever read or seen, as well as an inherent gift for reading people.
When he spoke, it was with a soft, thoughtful voice. It had an immediate soothing effect, very much like Michael’s. And despite the topic, Maggie found her attention drawn toward him.
“Okay,” Shane began. “There are two things that are really important here: tax assessments and zoning. First, understand that the taxes you pay are based on the county’s assessment of how much your property is worth. Valuation obviously changes over time, depending on any number of factors – location, development, the local economy and job market – you get the idea. For this reason, reassessments occur periodically, like, say, when a house is bought or sold, or when someone takes out a second mortgage.”
Maggie nodded i
n understanding.
“But sometimes a house or land can stay in the same family for generations, like in your case, Maggie. The result is that the taxes you pay are based on a fraction of what this place is currently worth. For this reason, some counties – like Tusquannock - schedule periodic reassessments – say every decade or so – to keep the tax base equitable.”
“My taxes have remained pretty much the same since before my grandparents passed,” Maggie pointed out. “I did their taxes for them for years.”
“Exactly. And that’s where the zoning comes in. Maggie, your two hundred acres is zoned as ‘prime agricultural’, which means exactly what it sounds like. The land you hold is ideal for farming, which is probably why your family was so successful at it over the years. Since you assumed ownership, however, you have not claimed any agriculturally-based profit or loss.”
“No,” she agreed slowly. “Though there hasn’t been very much active farming for quite a while. My grandfather had his little roadside stand and my grandma had her remedies, but they weren’t dependent on the income at that point.” With a natural talent for organization and figures, Maggie had set them up with comfortable retirement accounts. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that they could enjoy some of their golden years.
“It’s pretty hard to operate a farm single-handedly,” Michael pointed out.
“Not to mention Maggie has held employment outside of the family farm. She’s been paying taxes on every penny she makes just like the rest of us,” Kieran said in her defense. Maggie’s heart warmed with the way they all seemed to rally around her. She’d never had that as a child, but as Ian was constantly telling her, she’d get used to it eventually.
“True. But... any property labeled as ‘prime agricultural’ is given special consideration. The county, you see, receives federal subsidies for land that is actively farmed, as opposed to land that is sold for things like subdivisions or to businesses. It’s a way to keep the land green and discourage overdevelopment. The county passes a percentage of these boons to the landowners. Some of these perks include a lower tax rate than residential or commercial properties, as well as an exclusion from the mandatory reassessments.”
House Calls: Callaghan Brothers, Book 3 Page 21
