by Margaret Way
Dev—James Devereaux Langdon—in all probability his grandfather’s heir.
Who was she?
That woman’s daughter.
She would never escape the tag.
CHAPTER TWO
Getting through the day was surprisingly difficult. Even her boss at Greshams, the merchant bank, Andrew Frazier, had asked if she had anything on her mind. Obviously he had noted her abstraction and she owed him an explanation. He was her mentor and a kind of father figure, and she found herself confiding that Gregory Langdon, national icon, was dying. Andy knew all about the Langdons. She didn’t mention she had been summoned to Gregory Langdon’s deathbed. Only Andy, being Andy, asked.
Since she had been recruited straight from university with an Honours degree in Economics, Andrew Frazier had come to learn a lot about what went on under Amelia Norton’s smooth, confident and very hard-working exterior.
“I don’t want to go, Andrew. Nothing good can come from my going back to Kooraki.”
Andrew steepled his fingers, looking across at his protégée. “But Langdon has asked for you and your mother wants you there?”
“Yes,” she admitted wryly.
“Isn’t the grandson the guy you’re in love with?” Andy questioned, concerned about her. Amelia Norton was a very clever young woman, a glowing Italianate beauty, with considerable business skills, but he knew beneath the surface she wasn’t happy or fulfilled.
“I should never have told you that, Andy,” she said, dipping her dark head.
“Just answer the question. This love affair has been on the boil for years!”
The light of irony came into Mel’s beautiful dark eyes. “A bit like Scarlett and Rhett.”
“So what’s the stumbling block?”
“Lots of things, Andrew. I don’t want to get mixed up with the Langdon-Devereaux clan. Most of them are shareholders in Langdon Enterprises. I had to break free of all that. I have to stay free. Peace of mind is very important to me.”
“I think it comes down to your fear of being dominated, Mel. I gather young Langdon is a very forceful guy.”
“It’s in the chromosomes,” Mel said. “Nothing and no one, least of all me, could change that.”
“You have fears he could possibly turn into his grandfather at some later stage of life?”
“Dev is a real piece of work,” Mel said in a low voice. “A force of nature. He’s as tough as they come. He’ll take on anyone, including his own grandfather. No one does that. Absolutely no one.”
“But surely you told me the old man was a virtual tyrant?”
“He was. He dominated Dev’s dad, Erik, completely. With all that money and power, people tend to turn into despots.”
“Are you sure you’re giving your Dev a chance?” Andrew asked, disconcerting her. “I would have thought the last man you’d want would be a wimp.” Such a man would never be able to handle her, Andrew thought to himself. “I thought we’d agreed your upbringing on Kooraki has a lot to do with your mind-set. The late Mrs Langdon being so unkind, your mother made to feel like a servant in the worst Victorian times.”
“How I hated it, Andy!” Mel said, tears actually coming to her eyes. “Hated it,” she repeated.
“Yet Gregory Langdon saw to it you and your mother were protected. You told me yourself he paid for your education.”
“You sound like you think I should go, Andy.” Mel blinked furiously.
“That’s your decision.”
“So many mixed emotions!” Mel sighed. “There are so many cross-currents in that family. It’s like a seething cauldron. Even between Dev and me. The cause, of course, is the collective hostility towards my mother. And me as an extension. Ava, Dev’s sister, is the real princess. She’s lovely.”
“She’ll be there?”
“Of course.” Mel nodded. “Ava loves people, even when they don’t deserve it.”
“You’re due for your annual vacation, aren’t you?” Andrew Frazier saw his protégée was in two minds and needed helping out
“There’s the underwriting of the Saracen deal.”
“Burgess can finish what little there’s left of that. I sense you think you should go, Mel. Your mother’s wish matters. So does Gregory Langdon’s. You owe him that much.”
Mel met her mentor’s shrewd, kindly eyes. “I would have to go tomorrow, Andy. His doctors give him no more than a week.”
“Then get yourself organized, Amelia,” Frazier advised. “If Langdon dies and you aren’t there, I don’t think you will be able to forgive yourself in the future.”
* * *
At first she couldn’t believe anyone was buzzing her at ten-thirty at night. She almost didn’t bother going to the intercom. Probably some teenagers having their little bit of fun. It wouldn’t be the first time. Only whoever was pushing the button to her apartment wasn’t going anywhere fast. She had almost finished packing and a couple of items of clothing still lay on her bed. Thrusting her lush fall of hair over her shoulders, she walked down the hall to push a button. Immediately she received a clear video shot of who was standing in the entrance to her eight-unit block.
Her heart gave a great lunge, its rhythm interrupted. For a moment it was as if the whole world stood still.
“It’s me, Mel. Let me in.”
Shakers and movers would covet such a voice, beguiling and commanding at the same time. No way she could ignore him. No way he would give her the chance. Pulses racing, she hit the button to open the security door. She was on the top floor. The lift would deliver him to her in moments. Her feet sprouted wings and she ran down the hallway into the master bedroom. Her hair was wildly tumbled; there was a hectic blush in her olive-skinned cheeks, her eyes seemed more brilliant than usual. She had changed out of her classic Armani suit immediately after she’d arrived home, pulling a Pucci-style kaftan over her head. No time to renew her lipstick. She ran a moist tongue over the full contours of her mouth.
As usual, he’d reduced her to a bundle of nerves. You’d think she would be well and truly over that. She, who had gained a reputation for being cool, calm and collected. Only she was hypersensitive to every last little thing about Dev Langdon. She drew a couple of deep breaths to counteract the onset of nervous tension.
Fine black brows raised superciliously as she opened the door. Dev didn’t hesitate. He moved inside with his familiar athletic grace, dropping an overnight bag to the floor, where it fell with a thud. “Are you going to hug me or what?”
Dev did mockery better than anyone. “Hugs would be only the start.” She shut the door, staring pointedly at the expensive leather bag.
“Have to talk to you, Mel.” He moved into the living room, looking around appreciatively at the lovely, inviting interior. Mel had real style!
“About what?” She reacted sharply.
“Don’t play the fool. You, of all people, it does not suit.”
“So what are you doing here?” The worst of it was he looked marvellous. Tall, rangy, wide shoulders that emphasized the narrow expanse of his waist, lean hips, long legs. A shock of blond, thickly waving hair curled up at the collar of his denim bomber jacket. Jewels for eyes, a dazzling shade of aquamarine that glittered against the dark golden tan of his skin.
Here was a man sexy enough to take any woman by storm. “I’m here to pick you up, dear heart. Your mother contacted me. I’ve got Uncle Noel’s Cessna. We leave first thing in the morning.”
She leant heavily into sarcasm as her form of defence. “Are you proud of the way you give orders?” She ran a backward hand over her tumbled mane.
“Not proud of it at all,” he said wryly. “It’s inherited, I suppose.”
“Not from your father.”
He spun to face her. His chiselled features with his strong cheekbones had grown taut. “Enough about my dad.”
“Let’s move on to my mother,” she countered. There were always shifts and starts, backing off, coming together, combustible electric currents, with he
r and Dev. Why not? They had serious unresolved issues between them.
“Try to keep focus, Mel,” he said briskly. “My grandfather is dying. He wants to see you and me.” He stood back so he could study her from head to toe. “You look beautiful, Mel,” he said in a dark, caressing voice. “More beautiful every time I lay eyes on you. Which isn’t often of late,” he tacked on in an entirely different tone.
“I thought we’d agreed on time-out?”
He contradicted flatly, “You’re the one who always insists on time-out. Just how much time-out do you want? You’re so into your intensive search for identity, it’s become an obsession. You’d better find yourself soon. Neither of us is getting any younger. Neither of us is able to jettison the other. I know you’ve tried.”
“What about you?” she retorted hotly, falling into the trap. “Isn’t Megan Kennedy still in the picture?” An image of that very glamorous brunette sprang to mind. “It’s certainly a match the clan would approve.”
“Except for a couple of strikes against it. One, I don’t give a damn what the clan thinks. Two, although I like Megan—she’s a fun girl and doesn’t pretend otherwise—no chance I’m in love with her.”
“But shouldn’t we treat love as absolutely foolish, Dev? What’s that saying? ‘There is always some madness in love’?”
“Nietzsche.” Dev came up with the name of the German philosopher. “He went on to say, ‘But there is also always some reason in madness.’”
“Madness either way. Love fades, Dev. Other attributes have to come into play—friendship, shared backgrounds and beliefs, eligibility. Sex isn’t the be-all and end-all.”
Dev gave a sardonic laugh, his dazzling eyes whipping over her face and beautiful body beneath its thin silky covering. “I wouldn’t marry a woman I didn’t want in my bed. My kind of woman would have sole possession of my body, my heart and my soul. The trouble with you, Amelia, is you’re not only at war with me, you’re at war with yourself.”
She didn’t reply. Her anger was warring with a terrible longing.
Dev threw up his elegant hands, callused on the fingertips. “Look, I don’t want to continue along these lines, Mel. I could do with a drink. I need to unravel.”
“What about a power nap, then take off?” she suggested, hardly trusting her own voice. Whatever the friction, there was the never-ending thrill of his presence. “Where are you staying, anyway?’
“Mel, darling, I’m staying right here.”
“Joke?”
“Can’t say I’m full of humour at the moment,” he confessed, stabbing a hand into his thick hair. It was one heck of an asset, that hair, Mel thought, bleached by a hot sun to a lighter gold than the last time she had seen him. “You can put me up, can’t you, Mel? I’m not expecting to share your bed.”
“Smart thinking, Dev. You won’t.” It was her classic defence mechanism.
Only he gave her a devastating grin. “Can’t you say, ‘I’ve missed you’? ‘It’s good to see you, Dev.’ Something with a bit of weight to it?”
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “You’ve taken me by surprise. And at this time of night! You could have rung.”
“And have you hang up? No way! Drink, Mel. Single malt Scotch if you’ve got it.”
She moved away, anxious to break eye contact. “So Noel lent you the Cessna?” Noel was the Devereaux patriarch. Dev, his great-nephew and godson, was the apple of his eye. Noel Devereaux had two daughters, but no son to succeed him. He adored his girls, both married to the right people, but it was a son he had longed for. Now he had Dev, since Dev had packed up and stormed off Kooraki. There was no love lost between Gregory Langdon and Noel Devereaux, both rich, powerful men.
“I do most of the flying these days. Noel is a good guy.”
“It must be a big help having you around the place,” she pointed out dryly. “Word is, you virtually run Westhaven.”
“So?”
“So I thought congratulations might be in order?”
“I’m not an employee, sweetheart.” Dev’s tone was laconic. “I’m family. Uncle Noel actually wants to hand over control.”
“You mean retire?” she asked in genuine surprise.
He shrugged. “Not exactly, but Diane wants to travel. She wants them to spend much more time together—see more of their girls and their grandchildren. The time appears to be right for Noel to hand over the reins.”
“To you, obviously.”
“The girls aren’t interested, neither are the husbands, very successful city men. It’s control, anyway, not ownership.”
She didn’t risk another comment. “Can I get you something else?” He had come a long way. And for her. Though it was as if she had little say in the matter.
“A ham sandwich, maybe? Could I grab a cup of black coffee, as well? You doing okay, Mel?”
“Wonderfully well, thank you, Dev.” She maintained a cool control.
“So look at me. I always know when you’re telling big fat lies.”
“No lie. I’m highly regarded at Greshams.” Mel began to assemble the makings of a ham, cheese and wholegrain mustard sandwich. The coffee would take only a few moments. “I’ll feed you, then I wish you’d find yourself a hotel, Dev.”
He pressed his back into the plush leather sofa with an exaggerated sigh of comfort. “Sorry, Amelia. I’m staying here. I need some sleep. Speaking of sleep, it’s not too late for you to say you’ll sleep with me.”
“Get it straight, Dev. I won’t.” Mel’s answer was remarkably breezy considering how she felt. She walked back, handing him a good measure of Glenfiddich over a few ice cubes.
He raised his remarkable eyes to her. “Many thanks, dear heart.”
Knowing him so well, she observed, “You’re upset.”
He took a long gulp of whisky before replying. “Why wouldn’t I be? I owe him. You owe him. He cared about you. You were such a feisty little kid.”
“So what went wrong, Dev?” she asked with some bitterness.
They were back on well-trodden ground. “We all know that,” Dev gritted out.
“Your grandmother hated my mother and me.”
His expression darkened. “She feared your mother. I’d say she had a certain respect for you, you little terror!”
“Well, she’s gone now and soon your grandfather will join her. They’ll lie together in the family plot, if nothing else. You’re talking about running Westhaven. Surely you’ve considered your grandfather could have planned on handing Langdon Enterprises to you.”
“After our bust-up?” he said, draining the rest of the Scotch. “Many harsh words were spoken.”
“You’ve never told me what it was all about.” She tried to fix his gaze but did not succeed.
How could he? Dev thought, leaning forward to place his crystal tumbler on the table, with its small collection of art books. Mel had more than enough to handle. Better he never told her. It was all so sick and sad.
“Okay, so you won’t!” she said, her nerves frayed. “But, trust me on this, Dev. We both know your father has always found walking in your grandfather’s shadow very heavy going. It’s not in his nature or his area of expertise to step into Gregory’s shoes.”
Dev wasn’t having any of it. “Dad will inherit as a matter of course,” he said as though it were written in stone. “My father is the legitimate heir.”
“Maybe, in the normal way, but your grandfather isn’t going to allow his hard-won empire to fall apart. He needs someone to run it after he’s gone. That someone is you.”
Dev punched one fist into the other. “Dad has worked his butt off.”
“I know.”
Dev loved his mild-mannered father. He had always been very protective of him, even as a child. Erik Langdon was a long way from being incompetent, but it had proved impossible for him to emulate his dynamic father, a man with the Midas touch. Erik lacked the specific qualities it took to be the man at the very top of the chain. He had once gone on record as s
aying it was like trying to drive a vehicle uphill with the handbrake on. The Can-Do man had skipped a generation. It was Dev who had inherited all the skills necessary to succeed his tycoon grandfather.
“I’m sure your father will be justly rewarded,” she said, as gently as she could, “but your grandfather won’t cede him control. Want to bet I’m right?”
“Darling Mel, you always are,” Dev drawled. “Let’s get off the subject. Life is just one long series of hurdles for us.”
“It happens when one gets caught up with wealthy, dysfunctional families.” Mel matched him for sarcasm. “I’ll get your sandwich. The coffee will only take a moment.”
“You never intended to go, did you?”
She could have shown him her packing. Instead, she said, “I don’t like letting my mother down.”
“You’ve let me down, haven’t you?” he flashed back. “How many times exactly have you told me you loved me?”
She took a deep breath. “I couldn’t begin to count the number, Dev. But we live on two different levels. We have separate lives. You have an escape valve, being who you are. Soon you’ll be the CEO of Langdon Enterprises, with huge responsibilities, always busy, always travelling thither and yon.”
“Gimme a break, Mel!” His voice held a rasp. “You’re a clever woman. You’d fit in supremely well.”
Her laugh was raw. “Not with the clan, I wouldn’t. They do have a hold on you, Dev. A few of them are major shareholders.”
“So what? I can’t solve your problems, Mel. Problems are keeping this God-awful distance between us,” he said with intense frustration. “This damned love torment. The never-ending family stuff is the prime cause of our alienation.”
“It’s your family, Dev. Not mine. Such as it is. We’ve talked and we’ve walked all around our feelings. We’re on a merry-go-round and we can’t jump off. Any thought of marriage has turned into an impossible dream.”
Dev leapt to his feet, his aquamarine eyes blazing with anger and outrage. “You know why? Because you’re always applying the brakes. Think I don’t know you fear being dominated? As though it could happen! What you really want is to bend my will to yours. It’s the war of the sexes, with you the man-hater. You said you wanted to stand on your own two feet. I’ve gone along with that.”
