Chase turned at the sound of his mother’s voice. Hope noted, with something akin to satisfaction and surprise, that he didn’t look any happier to see his jet-setting mother than she felt. Holding her voice steady, despite the hatred and resentment she felt emanating from the other woman, Hope answered firmly, “The Board has already approved my plan.”
Rosemary shook her head. “You’re going to ruin the reputation of this store.”
Everyone whispered, apparently agreeing with Rosemary.
Hope struggled to control the meeting. “There won’t be a Barrister’s if we don’t make the changes necessary to survive in today’s more competitive marketplace.”
Apparently she succeeded in getting across just how desperate their situation was, for the staff fell silent. Feeling drained, and fearing another rude outburst from the volatile Rosemary, Hope dismissed the group of buyers, adding, “I’ll expect to see your revised stock orders on my desk one week from today.”
The mood somber, everyone filed out. Some, like Steve Supack, who had known the family for years, paused to say hello to Rosemary. Chase got up and walked to the window overlooking West-heimer.
Wishing to avoid a run-in with Rosemary, Hope began stuffing papers into her briefcase. To no avail. The minute the conference room had cleared out, a belligerent Rosemary shut the heavy oak doors and faced Hope and Chase. “I’ll see you in hell before I let you destroy Barrister’s!” she warned.
“Mother,” Chase said curtly, looking as aggrieved as Hope felt.
“I told you I’d handle this.”
“Look at her!” Rosemary said. “Barrister’s is being ruined. And she still looks like she has the world by the tail!”
Chase looked at Hope. His mother was right about that. Hope did look fantastic, even under fire. But then she always had. That had been part of the problem. Even at a very young, naive nineteen she had possessed a strikingly sensual beauty that had doubtless haunted every man who’d ever come in contact with her. She had wide, vulnerable blue eyes, a generous mouth, bee-stung lips, and pearly white teeth. Those features along with the silky thickness of her dark hair and fair skin never failed to command a second, and third look from men and women alike. And though Chase had tried to remain unaffected, he had noticed. He had always noticed, even to his considerable guilt, when his father was alive.
It didn’t help matters to notice that in the years since Joey’s birth, her slim figure had filled out. Now, her curves were more lush and womanly beneath her white wool dress and red blazer.
If they’d met under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered to hide how he felt, but would have pursued her with everything he had, not stopping until she was his. But that hadn’t happened. He’d met her as his father’s wife and he still had to try to think of her that way, out of respect. To do otherwise would be wrong.
Oblivious to his traitorous thoughts, Hope turned to his mother and said in a soothing tone, “I’m sorry you’re upset, Rosemary. Believe me, this pains me as much as it does you.”
“I doubt that,” Rosemary said, making no effort to hide the malevolence in her voice.
Chase saw a flash of hurt, then anger, in Hope’s eyes. Knowing his mother’s formidable temper, and fearing this would turn into an out and out brawl if left unchecked, Chase touched his mother’s arm in a calming gesture. He may not have wanted her here, but now that she was, he would have to deal with her, too. “Mother, I’d like to speak to Hope alone.”
Rosemary hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “Shall I wait for you outside?”
“Please.”
He waited until his mother had departed, then aware they hadn’t much time, turned to Hope and got straight to the point. “I agree with Steve Supack and my mother. Changing the image of the store may do more harm than good, at this point.”
Striding back to her briefcase, Hope clicked it open, pulled out a sheaf of papers and handed it to him. “Those are the demographics on our latest sales figures and the market projections for the rest of the year, as well as the next decade. I think, Chase, if you study them you’ll see I am well-advised to make the changes I’ve outlined.”
Surprised by her professionalism and her calm in the light of so much tension, Chase hooked a booted foot beneath the lower rung of a wheeled conference chair and pulled it out. He sank into it. He was aware of her standing behind him, so closely he could hear her soft, steady breaths and inhale the sophisticated sexy scent of her perfume. He tried to glance through the papers.
Unfortunately, with Hope so close, it was all but impossible for him to concentrate. Briefly he considered asking her to wait outside while he read, then promptly discarded that idea. If he did so, Rosemary would wonder why, and he didn’t need his mother’s prurient curiosity. Finally, with a great deal of effort, he managed to scan the reports, he saw she’d done a thorough, accurate job. Market projections were just that, however, projections. His mind on business once again, he frowned. “It’s still a risk.” And more to the point, he wasn’t sure hers was a course his father would ever have condoned.
“A risk I’m willing to take,” she pointed out calmly.
“Suppose I’m not?”
“It isn’t up to you,” she pointed out levelly. As much as he searched he could find no bitterness or resentment in her eyes, just a quiet practicality that was almost as unnerving as her beauty.
Realizing he was thinking of her as a desirable woman again, one he had no right to yearn for or to know more intimately, Chase pushed the thoughts away. He had to think about business, nothing more. If he didn’t, his feelings of guilt and disloyalty would eat him alive.
Chase turned his gaze back to the papers with a grimace of concentration. He knew that Hope held the upper hand in terms of stock; for the moment anyway. She had the controlling interest. If the Board of Directors was behind her, she had the power to do anything she wanted.
Besides, maybe Hope was right. She had been here, working diligently for the past ten years. Her commitment to Barrister’s granted her this chance to try to save it her way. “All right,” he conceded finally, feeling in his gut he was doing the only decent thing. “I’ll make no move to stop you from executing your plans.”
Hope didn’t so much as blink. She faced him quietly. “What about Rosemary?”
Hope was clearly worried about his mother, and she had every right to be. “I’ll see she gives you a clear path, too. For a short time,” he specified firmly.
Hope frowned and her blue eyes grew troubled. “How short a time?”
Chase did some rapid calculations. “Three months ought to be enough to turn it around.” If your plan is going to work, he added mentally.
She heaved a sigh of unmasked exasperation. “I’ll need at least six months, Chase, with no interference from either of you.”
He shook his head. “Three is all I’m offering, Hope. Take it or leave it.”
Silence fell between them. “I’ll take it,” she retorted glumly. He started to return the papers, but she shook her head and waved her hand, indicating she didn’t want them. “Your mother might want to see those. Perhaps they’ll reassure her.”
Chase doubted that. Rosemary’s resentment of Hope was deep and unrelenting; he suspected it always would be. But he said nothing as Hope snapped the locks on either side of her briefcase handle.
“Now that this is settled, I presume you’ll be leaving for Costa Rica?”
He only wished it were that easy. “Not exactly. I’m short of funds. The lack of profits caught us unaware. I loaned money to my mother to pay the rent on her villa in Monte Carlo. So, until I can scrounge up more money for my research, I’ll be staying in Houston, keeping tabs on what’s going on here personally.”
Staying on, she thought. If he did that, they’d be seeing each other almost twenty-four hours a day, both at work and at home. They’d take meals together. Where she may have wanted to be closer to Chase for Edmond’s sake and for the reunification of the Barrister family, she had
never wanted this. Especially not when she knew how attracted she was to him, that she had only to look at him or be near to him to feel a resurgence of desire. And yet, because he was Edmond’s son and had once lived there, too, she could hardly tell him to go.
Feeling like she’d sustained a strong blow to the chest, Hope struggled to catch her breath and keep her voice noncommittal and even. “How long?”
Looking totally unaffected by her reluctance to have him underfoot, Chase shrugged. “Until I get enough to underwrite another expedition.”
That could take weeks, even months, Hope knew. Weeks of unbearable tension, of dealing with him, and of seeing him at all hours of the day and night, maybe even in his pajamas! If he wore pajamas. Something told her he didn’t. What was she going to do? Simultaneously desperate to get him out from underfoot, and feeling she owed him whatever financial help she could spare, because of Edmond, she offered to help speed him on his way. “Look, I don’t have a lot of ready cash available to me either right now, but if your returning to Costa Rica is a matter of a simple plane fare and a few months provisions, a guide, I could—”
“Why would you want to do that for me?” he cut in abruptly, regarding her suspiciously. He knew, she felt, that she very much wanted to get rid of him A.S.A.P.
“Because you’re Edmond’s son.” Because I find you distracting and attractive and it’s killing me inside because even though I’m single now it makes me feel disloyal to Edmond. Because I know you think the worst of me, that I married Edmond for his money when in reality money never had anything to do with my feelings for your father. But knowing she’d never convince anyone of that, never mind Chase, she decided to concentrate on the aspects of their relationship they could discuss.
“So?” he challenged mildly. “I’m Edmond’s son? I’m not yours.”
How well she knew that. Struggling for equilibrium, Hope said, “You’re family, Chase.” Neither of us might have chosen it, but there it is. I have to do what Edmond would have wanted. And beyond that, for reasons she couldn’t really define, she wanted to help Chase achieve his goals and be happy. After all, their family difficulties aside, he was a kind, selfless person, in ways that she truly admired. It felt right somehow that she help him. “You’re family,” she repeated.
He shook his head in mute disagreement, denying it with all he was worth. “That bond ended when my father died.”
What bond? Hope wanted to say. He had never so much as given her the time of day. And that had hurt, knowing that he wouldn’t give her a chance.
He wished she didn’t look so hurt, dejected and crushed. Brushing her off wasn’t something he wanted to do; it was a familial decency that was required of him.
To his chagrin, Hope’s expression remained desolate, as if she were taking his rejection personally. He sighed regretfully. He felt a lot of things for Hope; he didn’t want to add guilt for hurting her feelings to the list. And he didn’t think his Dad would’ve wanted it, either. “But you’re right,” Chase said, picking up the thread of the conversation uncomfortably. “I am anxious to be out of here.” Away from the temptation of you. “But as much as I want to get back to work I can’t take your money, Hope.” Not knowing that despite all their best efforts, the store might fold anyway. She would still have Joey to raise, and thus would need every cent she had.
Hope was silent, remembering, he expected, that he had never taken money from his father for his expeditions, either. Chase noticed with relief that her hurt expression was beginning to fade.
“I understand,” she empathized softly.
Good. “Which leaves me only one choice,” Chase continued.
“For you to stay on at the house with me,” Hope guessed in a voice quavering with unspoken emotion.
Silence fell between them. For a moment, neither spoke. Neither needed to. They both knew how difficult it would be for the two of them to share space for even a short period of time, never mind the weeks or months he was proposing.
“I won’t get in your way,” Chase promised gruffly. “Or Joey’s—”
“I know.”
“And tell Carmelita not to worry about me, either. I don’t want her trooping over to make my bed.”
Hope felt her cheeks warm. “All right,” she murmured in agreement. She didn’t want to know what was going on or not going on in Chase’s bedroom, either.
He shoved his suit coat back and put his hands on his hips. He assessed her bluntly. “It’ll still be awkward for you, won’t it?”
“A little,” she agreed, working to keep the heat out of her cheeks. Lamely, she added, “Joey and I aren’t used to having anyone else around except Carmelita. But I’m sure we can cope,” she said hastily after a moment, embarrassed again.
He nodded his understanding, looking both grateful for the hospitality and wary of the probable complications to come and suddenly Hope knew. He’s attracted to me, too, she thought, seeing it in the abrupt tenseness of his frame and the way he suddenly wouldn’t look into her eyes. But because of Edmond he wouldn’t do anything about it, either, she noted with equally strong feelings of relief and disappointment.
“Hope?” Leigh Olney, the new buyer for Children’s Wear, interrupted them. Although she had only been hired recently, Leigh had quickly made herself indispensable. She was already the most flexible of the staff. “Sorry to interrupt but there’s—” Leigh looked at Chase and faltered. “A surprise in your office that—uh—needs your attention right away.”
It was clear to Hope from the excited look on Leigh’s face that the twenty-four-year old thought she was doing her a giant favor. And also that the surprise couldn’t wait another moment. Glad for the reason to excuse herself from Chase, and from the unexpected realization that he was as uncomfortably aware of her as a woman as she was of him as a man, she said, “I’m sorry, Chase, I’ve got to go.”
Still puzzling over Leigh’s excited expression, she walked to her office, wondering all the while what the surprise could be. It wasn’t her birthday or her anniversary with the store, or even the date she had taken over as president of Barrister’s. Yet the usually unflappable Leigh had acted as if she had an entire surprise party awaiting her. Shrugging it off, she stepped inside her office and closed the door behind her.
And it was then that she saw him, standing next to the polished oak sideboard Edmond had installed in the far corner. Although expertly cut, the jazzy teal blazer, white slacks and shirt, did little to disguise the fact he was now a good twenty pounds overweight. Above the knot of his silk tie, his deeply tanned face had the pinched look of recent plastic surgery. Years had passed and he had aged badly, but as long as she lived she would never forget Russell Morris’s aristocratic face or his soulless deep blue eyes.
Her stomach churning with long suppressed memories, she drew on every ounce of gentility she had worked to possess and asked crisply, “How may I be of help to you?” She knew, from reading the Wall Street Journal, that his family-owned firm was in big trouble, too. It had been since the day he’d inherited it five years prior. Currently, if she guessed right, Russell Morris was probably close to losing everything, too.
Russell turned, a handful of the Godiva chocolates she kept just for Joey in his palm. “Is this any way to greet an old friend?” he asked. He voluptuously downed one of the expensive treats.
First off, we were never friends, she thought. A friend would never have done to me what you did. Her back stiffened in a way that let him know she wasn’t about to be taken advantage of by him again. No longer an innocent young girl, she was stronger now, smarter. She gave him a warning look and said briskly, “I’m very busy—”
“I imagine you are, Hope,” he interrupted smoothly. The cruel lines of his mouth flattened even more. “All these stores you inherited from that rich husband of yours aren’t doing very well.” He finished the last of the chocolates he’d pilfered, then dusted off his hands. The look he gave her was smug and insinuating. Remembering the past, it was all
she could do to keep from flying at him and flailing him with both fists. She hated him that much.
“Is there a point to this?” she asked stiffly. She wanted nothing more than to get him out before there was a scene and before Chase discovered him there.
“If you’ll let me get to it.” Briefly Russell’s voice held the old autocratic edge she detested, then it dropped even lower, so it was slick and soft and totally insincere. “I can help you, Hope,” he said guilelessly, moving two steps nearer.
The smell of his cologne, even at a distance, made her ill, and it was all she could do to swallow the bile rising in her throat.
“I know you need it,” Russell continued. “That’s why I’ve come.”
Even if the past hadn’t stood between them, there was no way she would have ever let anyone as selfish and remorseless as he anywhere near her beloved Barrister’s.
“I don’t think so,” she corrected archly.
Her skin crawling because of his nearness, she turned and moved purposefully to the door. She had to get him out of her office before the loathing she felt inside got the better of her. What had happened in the past was horrible but it was over, she schooled herself firmly. She had to make sure it stayed that way, for all their sakes. She yanked open the door and waved him on his way.
He stayed where he was, as arrogant and presumptuous as ever. “That’s it? You’re going to dismiss me without even hearing me out?” he asked in disbelief, as if she were the one in the wrong. Straightening lazily, he moved toward her, one manicured hand held out beseechingly.
As the distance between them narrowed, her stomach lurched again. Working hard to hide the insistent trembling of her hands, she gave him a look that spoke volumes about the way she felt. And would always feel. “I see no reason to waste our time.”
“I run Morris Fabrics now—”
“I’m well aware of all you have inherited.” The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach increased. He’d inherited the power, the wealth, and the complete and utter lack of scruples.
“And?”
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