His Marriage Bonus

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “Then you will have lost this chance to pick up the extra revenue,” Mitch continued, glancing at his watch, knowing that like it or not, his time was running out. He was going to have to call both LC Motors and Specialty Foods shortly and tell them what was to be done.

  Payton Heyward grinned in a way that said he appreciated Mitch’s aggressiveness in solving this problem. “One of my ships just came in this morning. I’ll have them send it over to your docks.”

  The two men shook on the deal. Payton consulted the clock above the mantel. It was eleven. He narrowed his eyes at Mitch and Lauren thoughtfully. “I thought the two of you were supposed to be on a date this evening.”

  “We were. Are,” Mitch said.

  Lauren nodded, her affection for her father shining through now as clearly as her pique with him had earlier that day. “Wherever Mitch goes, I go,” she parried. “At least between the hours of six and midnight.”

  Payton harrumphed, looking less than happy about the detour their date had taken, despite the additional business it had brought his company. “Then get back to it,” Payton advised, showing them to the door. “You two have wasted enough time on business, when you should have been courting, as it is.”

  “Well, that went a lot easier than I thought it would,” Lauren remarked as they headed back out to Mitch’s car. She turned to Mitch with a sexy smile. “I half expected him to tell you no, and then get on the phone and steal the extra business out from under you.” She paused, shook her head, sighed. “I don’t know what’s happened to him, but he hasn’t been as aggressive at going after business lately as he has been in the past.”

  Maybe there were reasons for that, the same reasons that were suddenly prompting Payton Heyward to consider a merger. Uneasily, Mitch realized his father was probably right on the money about one thing. Payton Heyward hadn’t told Mitch everything, just as he hadn’t told his own daughter everything. Hence, it was up to Mitch to use whatever means necessary to discover what was going on behind the scenes, and make certain that Payton wasn’t using Mitch and the Deveraux Shipping Company to bail him out of a messy financial situation or quietly failing business. The last thing Mitch wanted to do was drive his own family company into ruin because he had failed to investigate the obvious.

  Oblivious to the grim, suspicious direction of Mitch’s thoughts, Lauren continued, “Take tonight for instance. Since it’s a weeknight, and he’s here in the city, my father’d normally be out courting a major client and showing him the sites. Instead, according to his doorman, he was home all evening, alone. That’s unlike him, Mitch.”

  “Maybe he’s just getting older. And can’t keep up the same pace he used to.”

  “Maybe.” Lauren sounded unconvinced.

  They lapsed into silence until they arrived at the Deveraux mansion. Lauren’s car was parked on the street right where she’d left it before dinner with his father. “I’ll follow you home,” Mitch said.

  Lauren consulted her watch. “We still have another forty-five minutes.”

  “So we’ll have coffee at your place,” Mitch said with a shrug. “Unless you’d rather go somewhere else. There’s a gourmet coffee shop up on King Street that’s open until midnight—”

  “No. My place will be fine.”

  Lauren led the way, and five minutes later they arrived at the double house Lauren owned. The stuccoed brick town-house style villa was two rooms wide on both floors and surrounded by palmetto trees and overlooked South Battery. And that evening, as always, the view of the water beyond the seawall was staggeringly beautiful. Moonlight shimmered on the water—ships, some moving gracefully across the water, some at anchor—were visible in the distance.

  Mitch inhaled the tangy scent of saltwater as Lauren led the way up the brick sidewalk, across her welcoming porch, and let them inside. The interior of her home was decorated with floral fabrics and antiques.

  As soon as Lauren walked in, she went to her answering machine and pressed the button to retrieve her messages. The first two were from clients, confirming or changing dates to view houses. The third was enough to stop Mitch in his tracks.

  “Hi, Lauren. Ron Ingalls calling you back. First, just let me say I think it’s great what you’re trying to do for your father. I’m not sure it’s going to be possible—the guy’s no pushover. But sure, I’d be glad to help you try and get what you want. I’m actually going to be in South Carolina on Wednesday, so maybe the two of us can meet then. In the meantime, I’ll try and find the information you need tomorrow and get back to you. Later.” Click.

  “I wasn’t aware you knew Ron,” Mitch said mildly.

  Lauren turned to Mitch, her expression happy but relaxed. “He and my dad go way back,” Lauren replied, looking as innocent as a newborn babe. “My dad always gets his new container ships from Ingalls Shipbuilding in Newport News, Virginia. You’ve met him, too, I guess.”

  Mitch nodded. The forty-year-old executive was an accomplished businessman and a very affable guy. Mitch or his father played golf with Ron whenever Ron was in town, and usually managed to work in some business out on the greens, too. “We’ve bought a couple ships from him. Although we also get ships from a company in Maine, and another one in Connecticut.” Unlike Heyward Shipping Company, DSC preferred not to rely on just one supplier.

  “Hmm. Well.” Lauren looked as if she could have cared less about that. She smiled at Mitch casually, the only sign of her inner restlessness the light tapping of her fingers against her thigh. “Did you want some coffee?”

  I’d rather sit here and talk about what it is exactly that Ron is going to do for you and your dad. Had Ron been referring to Mitch on the phone, or some other guy who was no pushover? There was no doubt Ron’s allegiance would be to the Heywards before the Deveraux, and it bothered Mitch to think that Lauren could be conspiring with her father to pull something over on Mitch and his father. “That would be great,” Mitch said, doing his best to keep his suspicions to himself.

  Lauren smiled again, even more warmly. “The kitchen’s back this way, if you want to come with me.”

  “Mind if I stay in here and turn on the news?” Mitch asked. He needed more information—the kind Lauren was not going to give him, and he wanted something to cover the sound of him looking around.

  For a second, Lauren looked both taken aback and hurt that he would prefer the company of the television to her, and Mitch felt even more guilty about what he had to do next. But that didn’t change his decision. He had been a chump once where a beautiful woman was concerned. He wasn’t going to ignore the early warning signs again. This time he was going to find out for sure what kind of woman he was dealing with before he got further involved.

  “I missed the weather earlier and I want to know if I should get my car washed tomorrow,” Mitch fibbed.

  Lauren rolled her eyes. Looking very annoyed, she muttered, “Suit yourself,” and then turned to exit the room. Mitch waited until she had rounded the corner, then switched on the TV and headed for the antique secretary where the phone was. The polished cherry-wood surface was bare except for a pad of paper and pen, and a leather-bound address book—which was filled with addresses and phone numbers of shipping-industry people, as well as countless other Charleston heavy hitters and real estate-industry people.

  Of course, that in itself could mean nothing, Mitch reassured himself as he picked up the phone and scrolled through the list of incoming phone calls on Lauren’s caller ID. It was who had called her recently, and how many times, that was going to tell him what he really wanted to know.

  LAUREN TOOK HER TIME in the kitchen. She just didn’t understand it. One minute Mitch was warm and personable, exactly the kind of guy she’d like to get involved with. And the next he was all business, as emotionally remote as could be.

  Not that she shouldn’t have expected as much, she scolded herself firmly. The fact Mitch Deveraux had even agreed to date her for the sake of a merger should have told her what kind of man he was deep
down. The kind who put business first, always. The kind she had always sworn she would avoid.

  If she didn’t want the mansion at 10 Gathering Street so very much…

  But she did.

  So she had to get through this date, and six more, Lauren told herself firmly, looking at her watch. Luckily, she only had ten more minutes to go. She filled two coffee cups, put them on a silver serving tray along with cream and sugar and headed back into the living room. As she had expected, Mitch was sitting on the sofa, his eyes glued to the TV.

  For the next ten minutes they sat and sipped coffee and made such inane conversation she knew she’d be hard put to recall any of it even half an hour later. Promptly at the stroke of midnight, he stood and prepared to go. Without making the slightest attempt to kiss her good-night, he thanked her politely for the coffee and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at six.”

  Wondering what had happened to the man who hadn’t hesitated to put the moves on her earlier in the day, Lauren watched Mitch Deveraux stroll down the front walk to his car. She told herself she should be relieved that Mitch suddenly wanted to take a step back and proceed a hell of a lot more cautiously, as well. But she wasn’t. It didn’t matter that it was a sure way to get hurt when the week came inevitably to an end. She didn’t care that setting herself up that way was foolish. She had wanted another hot, reckless, impetuous kiss. Or two, or three. The question was—why hadn’t he?

  Chapter Five

  As soon as he got to the office the next morning, Mitch telephoned Harlan Decker, the burly ex-cop-turned-PI who verified the resumes and work histories of potential employees and also investigated any theft or vandalism at the docks. “I’ve got some phone numbers I need identified ASAP. Think you could do that for me?”

  “No problem,” Harlan said. “Just fax them over and I’ll get right on it.”

  Mitch hung up, sent the fax and dialed Ron Ingalls. The CEO of the Newport News, Virginia, shipbuilder was a little harder to get hold of, but eventually he got on the line. “Hey, Mitch, how are you?”

  “Fine, Ron. Thanks. Listen, DSC is considering adding another container ship or two to our fleet before the end of the year, and I wondered if I could get a look at your latest price list and projected inventory and availability dates.”

  “Be happy to send that to you,” Ron said. “In fact, I can bring it to you myself a little later in the week—I’m going to be in Charleston to play golf and meet with another customer.”

  “Sounds good.” Mitch welcomed the chance to look Ron in the eye and discover if he was in any way involved in an attempt to sabotage the Deveraux Shipping Company. They set a time and place. Ten minutes later, Harlan Decker called back with the results of his search. “One number belongs to Southern Specialties bakery, another to Bob Blum.”

  “The owner of The Golf Emporium,” Mitch affirmed.

  “Right. And one for Robert Kellogg, Jon King, Annette Barnes and Susan Gordon.”

  Mitch relaxed. Those were all prominent people in Charleston who had nothing to do with the shipping industry and were probably calling for social reasons.

  “Another for Jeannette Wycliffe.”

  “Whoa.” His body rigid with tension, Mitch leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his desk. “Are you sure about that?”

  “That the number belongs to your ex-wife,” Harlan said, not about to pull any punches. “Yes.”

  That wasn’t good, Mitch thought. Especially since he had never known Lauren and Jeannette to be friends, and, given the acrimonious nature of their divorce, Jeannette would not possibly have one good thing to say about him to Lauren.

  “And then there’s one for Ron Ingalls in Newport News, Virginia,” Harlan continued pragmatically. “His home number.”

  Interesting, Mitch thought, unsure what to make of that.

  “That’s it,” Harlan concluded. “Except for Payton Heyward’s number for the apartment in the city, as well as his office.”

  Nothing suspicious in that, unless she was helping him with some business angle she did not want Mitch to know anything about.

  Without preface, his father’s warning about the inadvisability of climbing into bed with the competition came back to haunt Mitch.

  “Anything else you want me to do?” Harlan asked.

  Mitch thought briefly of having both Lauren and her father investigated, then nixed the idea. If there was anything nefarious to be found, he was going to discover it himself.

  He headed down the hall after disconnecting with Harlan, saw his father’s office was still empty—unusual for midmorning—and went a little farther down the hall to Jack Granger’s office. “Have you seen my father this morning?”

  Appearing as tense and preoccupied as Mitch felt, Jack looked up from the stack of contracts on his desk. “He’s not here,” Jack replied. “I had an e-mail from him late last night. He said he was going to get away for a few days.”

  “Did you tell him about what happened last night with the Specialty Foods-LC Motors shipment to Miami?” Aware his father might be ticked off at the way Mitch had handled the situation, Mitch had been intending to do that himself in person as soon as his father got in.

  Jack shrugged. “I e-mailed your father the information, but I don’t know that he’s reading his mail. He left the impression that he would be pretty much out of contact for the next day or two.”

  “And in the meantime…?” Mitch asked.

  Jack went back to sifting through the papers on his desk. “You and I are to handle things as per usual while he’s gone.”

  The only problem was, his father was never gone. Since the divorce, the business had become even more important to Tom Deveraux. He rarely took a vacation and worked long hours every day. And often entertained clients and made more handshake deals in the evening and on the weekends.

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” Jack continued, giving Mitch a steady look. If Jack had any reservations about the situation, Mitch noted, Jack wasn’t about to reveal them.

  Finally, Jack said, “You handle all the executive decisions. I’ll take care of any legal issues that come up.”

  On the surface, it was a workable agreement. However, there were several things Mitch did not get. “I don’t understand why he e-mailed you and not me,” Mitch said, wondering why his father seemed to sometimes confide more in the company’s attorney than in his own family members. Did he find their capacity for understanding lacking? Or were there private legal problems he was involved in?

  Jack shrugged and continued watching Mitch with lawyerly impassiveness. “Maybe he did e-mail you and it just hasn’t arrived yet,” he suggested finally.

  That was bull, Mitch thought, and they both knew it. Unfortunately, it was also all the information he was likely to get out of Jack, since what little his father had told Jack had obviously been in confidence.

  Mitch heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Lauren striding down the hall that linked the executive offices of DSC. Her golden-brown hair was loose and shining, the ends swinging softly against her shoulders. She was dressed in a trim black business suit and red blouse. Mitch didn’t think he had ever seen her look so pretty as she did at that moment—his heart raced at just the sight of her.

  She smiled as she neared him, in a drift of tantalizing perfume. “Got a minute?” she asked.

  Jack said a polite hello to Lauren and frowned at Mitch. Mitch knew what Jack was thinking—that Mitch was consorting with the competition. Given what Mitch had just found out about the phone calls Lauren had been receiving at her home lately, he wasn’t so sure Jack and his dad weren’t right. On the other hand…what was that old saying? Mitch wondered. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Whichever one Lauren was, he knew he wanted her by his side.

  “I always have time for you.” Mitch told Lauren as he cupped a hand beneath her elbow and ushered her down the hall into his own office. He shut the door behind them, relishing the chance to spen
d some unscheduled time with her, instead of just the required dates. “What’s up?”

  Lauren sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and crossed her legs at the knee. Leaning forward, she clasped her hands around her bent knee. “Your mother called me this morning and asked me to help her find a house of her own to buy. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that, so I wanted to run it by you first.”

  Mitch sat on the edge of his desk closest to Lauren and braced his hands on either side of him. “I don’t think it’s a conflict of interest, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said, looking down at her.

  Lauren compressed her lips before cautioning matter-of-factly, “This process is probably going to take a while, and that might be awkward when we stop seeing each other at the end of the week.”

  Mitch lifted a curious eyebrow. “Who says we’re going to stop seeing each other?” He grinned speculatively.

  Lauren’s shoulders stiffened. She rose and, her back ramrod straight, moved away from him. “There will no longer be a need.”

  Speak for yourself. Mitch could already see himself needing to be with her often, even when it was no longer required of both of them. Mitch straightened, too. “If we can deal with a week of dating, I’m sure we can deal with that,” he said casually.

  Lauren smiled in obvious relief. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Holding her purse in front of her like a shield, she moved for the door, looking more than ready to tackle her day. “Well, I’m off to meet your mother for breakfast, then.”