Savannah watched the woman go, then turned back to the mirror and wiped the tissue over her left eye. It worked, almost too well, as now the tissue held not only the smudged mascara, but the eye shadow, as well. There was no choice now except to clean off the entire right eye, too, which she did.
“I don’t know how, but that looks even worse,” she told her reflection. “Oh, the hell with it,” she said, turning on the taps and reaching for the soap.
The next time she looked at her reflection, while dabbing at her wet skin with even more paper towels, the Savannah Hamilton she had known all her life was looking back at her. “There goes well over one hundred dollars of makeup and makeover down the drain,” she said, and realized she wasn’t sorry.
It had seemed like such a good idea, stopping at a local department store, having the woman at the makeup counter do her face for her, then buying some of the cosmetics.
She’d wanted to look more professional, more finished, before she faced Harry. And, to be honest with herself, she’d also wanted to sort of hide behind the makeup. She thought she’d feel more confident. She’d ended up looking ridiculous.
Not that she’d expected Harry to take one look at her and jump her bones—as Elizabeth Mansfield, her roommate at the private school and all through college had once so delicately put it—then say, “Why, Savannah, I have the perfect solution. You’re beautiful, you’re here, and I think I’m nuts about you. Let’s get married!”
No, she hadn’t thought that would happen. Not in her wildest dreams.
Well, maybe in her wildest dreams.
“Okay, back to reality, Savannah,” she said, rummaging in her purse for a tube of lipstick, usually her only makeup. “He might help you, he might not, but he’s going to be sending out a search party soon if you don’t get out of here and back to the table.”
Taking just another moment to push an errant lock of ash-blond hair behind her ear, check over her beige slacks and matching blouse and hip-length sweater vest, and pick a bit of damp paper toweling from the gold chain around her neck, she declared herself to be as ready as she was ever going to be, and left the rest room.
She located Harry at a scarred wooden table in front of the window that overlooked the rest of the small strip mall located only three blocks from the building housing CMH. They’d walked here, under a wonderfully warm early spring sun, and Savannah was pretty sure that if she just had an hour or so to sit, she could walk back in her new high heels without wincing too much.
Harry saw her and half rose from his chair until she sat down across from him. He looked at her, and then he smiled. “Now there’s the Savannah I know and love. Complete with freckles.”
“Is that your way of saying I still look seventeen?” she asked him. “How depressing. And I’d hoped I’d grown up.”
Harry looked nonplussed for a moment, then said, “Oh, you’ve grown up, Savannah. Definitely. I ordered the large pie, half plain, half pepperoni. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, nodding, pulling the soda he must have ordered closer to her, taking a sip from the straw. That felt better, and maybe would even keep her tongue from cleaving to the roof of her mouth.
How long had she had this silly crush on Harrison Colton? From the first day she’d come home from boarding school to see him standing beside the pool in their backyard, laughing at something Annette had just said to him? Probably.
So tall, so extraordinarily well constructed, his jet-black hair wet and shiny from the water, his eyes so green they seemed to be made of precious emeralds. Those long, straight legs sprinkled with dark hair. That smile that could lure angels from the heavens.
Her friend Elizabeth, who had come home with her for the weekend, had stood there with her mouth hanging open, then finally said jokingly, “If we play our cards right, Savannah, we can lock your sister in the pool house and have him all to ourselves. What do you think, is that a plan?” She and Elizabeth had both been rather shy, but they’d had an active imaginary life.
Savannah smiled at the memory, although in a way it was bittersweet, because Annette and Harry had announced their engagement that same night, just as Savannah was pretty sure she’d lost her heart to him, for now, for forever.
“You’re smiling,” Harry said now, interrupting Savannah’s thoughts. “What are you smiling about?”
“Hmmm?” she said, then snapped back to reality. “Oh, nothing. I was just remembering the first day I met you. You threw me in the pool.”
“Only after watching you take twenty minutes to slowly inch your way in,” he reminded her. “And you were already pretty wet. You had a friend with you, didn’t you? The three of us spent the afternoon pretty much trying to drown each other, as I recall. What was her name?”
“Elizabeth Mansfield, and she’d be amazed that you remember her. She got married right after college last year, but I don’t think things are going well for her right now. Well, actually, I know they’re not. Otherwise, I might have gone off to cry on her shoulder and you wouldn’t have had to hear any of this.”
“That’s too bad about your friend, but I’m glad you came to me, Savannah. We did have fun that day, though—you, your friend Elizabeth, and me. Annette didn’t join us in the pool,” Harry said, obviously caught up in his own memories. “She’d just had her hair done for the party that night and didn’t want to ruin it But, you know, now that I think about it, I don’t think she ever went in the pool.”
“She can’t swim,” Savannah said, then shook her head. “No, that’s not true. Annette can swim. She just doesn’t like getting wet, ruining her hair and makeup. Funny. I don’t have to be within fifty miles of a pool to ruin my makeup.”
“And I’m very glad you did, Savannah,” Harry told her, sitting back as the waitress set down a large metal tray holding their pizza, two plates and a very thick wad of paper napkins. “No, seriously,” he added as Savannah made a face, “I’ve always thought you were very much what the magazines call an All-American girl. Very natural.”
“And I always wondered why I didn’t look as sleek, petite and sophisticated as my sister,” Savannah said, picking a thin slice of pepperoni off a slice of pizza, then popping it into her mouth. “Now I know why. Life is just chock-full of little surprises, isn’t it, Harry?”
“You’re hurting, aren’t you?” Harry reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “And I don’t blame you, Savannah, not one bit. You’ve had a hell of a shock, and more than one.” He sat back again, and she saw a slight tic working along his smooth jaw. “I’d like to punch Sam Hamilton into the middle of next week.”
Savannah gave him a weak smile. “I guess that answers my question then, doesn’t it? You’re not going to invest in Dad’s company, bail him out. I can’t say I blame you, or that I’m surprised. I knew it was a long shot, at best.”
“Eat your pizza, Savannah,” Harry said as his cell phone began to ring. “I’ve been waiting for a call-back after phoning a source I know. Let me take this outside.” He stood, flipped open the phone, and Savannah could hear him saying as he walked away, “Talk to me. Did you get it?”
Did the “source” get what, Savannah wondered, watching through the window as Harrison paced the pavement, alternately talking and listening.
He looked very much the tycoon at that moment. Tailor-made slacks and jacket, hand-sewn shoes, his posture straight and rather commanding. He was definitely Harrison Colton now. So very different from the Harry Colton she remembered, had played badminton and water polo with, had shared pizza with, had told her silly, teenage dreams to.
Savannah picked at her pizza, eating the pepperoni first, as she had always done, and finally tackling her second slice, all the time pretending not to watch as Harrison talked and paced and listened.
The woman who had helped her in the rest room stopped beside the table, her husband in tow, the man still finishing a slice of pizza. Gesturing with a toss of her head, to indicate Harry on the other side of the window, she winked and said, “I stand c
orrected, sweetheart. That one might just be worth it. Good luck! Come on, Bill. Shove the rest of that in your mouth and let’s get going or we’ll be late.”
Savannah smiled at Bill, who just lifted his free hand and, fingers held straight and tight together, began opening and closing his hand against his thumb. “Talks your ear off, the woman does,” he said, then quickly took off after his wife, who clearly was used to leading the way.
Savannah laughed as Bill followed his wife. She relaxed a little, until she remembered that Harry was hearing information right now that deeply affected her life. She pretended not to look at him, but kept looking at him every three seconds.
Finally, Harry snapped the cell phone closed and came back inside the restaurant, slipping back into his chair. He picked up a slice of pizza and took a healthy bite.
“Well?” she asked, watching him chew. “What did your source have to say? Because that was about Dad, wasn’t it? You were checking him out. Maybe even checking my story, making sure I wasn’t making this all up.”
Harry swallowed, then took a drink of soda. “I knew you weren’t making it up, Savannah. Trust me, I know Sam Hamilton enough to believe that everything you told me is most definitely true, and very much his style. Oh, and just between you and me, it looks like Annette is getting out while the getting is good. Word on the street is that her soon-to-be ex-husband is going to be indicted for tax fraud next week. Lovely family you’ve pretty much no longer got, Savannah. Just lovely.”
“And you want no part of them,” Savannah said, nodding her head. “I don’t blame you. Coming here today was a bad idea, all the way around. You’re probably still angry with Annette for breaking the engagement, on top of everything else. I know how much you loved her.”
Some strange sort of shadow seemed to pass over Harry’s face, and Savannah suddenly found herself slightly frightened. “Harry? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Really.”
Harry sat back in his chair, looked at her levelly. “No. No, that’s all right, Savannah. It’s all water under the bridge, and all that baloney. I really can’t blame Annette. I mean, looking back on all of it now, and taking everything I know into consideration, I’d say she did the right thing. It never would have worked out between us.”
“You’re very generous,” Savannah said, looking at him intently. “And you’re lying. Why are you lying, Harry? Don’t I have the story straight? Was there more to everything than I’ve been told?”
Harry pulled a couple of bills from his wallet, laid them on the table and stood, holding out his hand to Savannah. “Being such a good student all these years, don’t you think that right now you should be cramming for your final on current events, rather than worrying about a six-year-old course in ancient history?”
“Current Events,” Savannah repeated, wincing. “Meaning Dad’s failing business, James Vaughn, and what I should be doing about both of them. Yes, I suppose so. It’s just that I want to apologize for bringing Annette’s name into this so much.”
“And yet you just did it again,” Harry told her as they walked back to his office building. “I’m going to have to dock you a nickel every time you do that from here on in, you know. How else do you think I got to be a tycoon, if I didn’t grab for every nickel I could get?”
“Now you’re teasing me,” Savannah said as he slipped his arm around her waist and she did her best to ignore how good it felt to have him touch her that way, so easily, as if the six years they’d been apart meant nothing to him.
“Me? Teasing you? Savannah, shame on you. When have I ever teased you?”
She looked up at him as she swept that same damn errant lock of hair out of her eyes. “When? How about how? As in, let me count the ways. By the way, where are we going? Shouldn’t we have turned left at that last corner?”
‘‘If we were heading back to my office, yes. But as we’re not, I think we’re going the right way.”
“Where are we going? Does it have anything to do with that phone call?”
Harry, still with his arm around her waist, walked her toward a wooden bench in a small sidewalk park. Savannah sat down, watching as he joined her, and wondered why she felt like her life was about to make yet another huge turn in a little over a week. “Harry? You’ve done something, haven’t you? You have the same look on your face as you did the day you saw I was about to land on Boardwalk and you had three hotels sitting there.”
He smiled, tugged at the lock of hair that she was once again trying to tuck behind her ear. “Leave it, I like it that way,” he said. “But you’re probably right, and I do look about the same as the day I bankrupted you in Monopoly. It’s that killer instinct in me coming out. All the best tycoons have it, or so I’m told.”
“Oh, great, and I’m in the line of fire, aren’t I?”
“Only indirectly,” he assured her. “Right now I’ve got my sights on Sam’s company. It’s a real mess, by the way. Big-time mess. Luckily, and probably quite by accident, Sam did manage to keep the company separate from O’Meara’s, so the federal government isn’t after him. Of course, they’re about the only ones who aren’t after him but, hey, you can’t have everything.”
“I wish you’d stop smiling as you tell me this, Harry,” Savannah said, belatedly realizing that the Harry she’d known six years ago and the Harry sitting next to her now were two very distinctly different people. She was also beginning to believe she may have just made the biggest mistake of her life in coming to him for help.
“Sorry,” Harry said, no longer smiling. “I know this isn’t funny. As a matter of fact, it’s a damn shame, because Hamilton, Inc., used to be a pretty good company. I know, because I researched it before taking a job there. Before I realized that Sam Hamilton has what we in the business world call a fatal flaw.”
“What fatal flaw?”
“He’s greedy, Savannah,” Harry told her frankly. “He had a nice company, a nice income, a real safe haven. But, like so many others, he overextended himself in a booming economy, tried to grow too fast, counted on money not yet in his pocket. Money he believed to be in other people’s pockets.”
“Robert O’Meara’s money,” Savannah said, believing she understood. “He counted on Robert’s money, didn’t he?”
“He definitely counted on money from his son-in-law,” Harry answered, and again Savannah saw that shadow pass over his face and again she wondered. “But the company is still a good one, the product still a good one, so I think that, yes, it is worth investing in, worth owning.”
“Owning?” Savannah sat up very straight. “I didn’t say anything about Dad—about Sam selling the business. He just wants a major investor.”
“And a rich husband for the woman he raised as his own daughter. He probably listed your school fees as part of his business expenses. Sell one daughter, pretty much blackmail the other one. That’s our Sam—a real prince,” Harry told her, and she looked away, no longer able to meet his eyes. “Think about it, Savannah. You can only tap an investor once, twice if you’re lucky, but a rich son-in-law is more like a bottomless pit, isn’t he? Okay, so Annette’s husband was pretty much a dry well. But Vaughn’s financially solid, if morally bankrupt. Not that Sam cares about that last part. I’ve got to hand it to the guy. I mean, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”
Savannah stood, looked at a spot just left of Harry’s head. “I’d like to go back to my car now, Harry. We are through here, aren’t we?”
“Not quite, Savannah,” he told her, also rising, and once more slipping his arm around her waist as he headed down the street once more. “I’ve already got my legal department drawing up papers that will be on Sam’s desk by Monday morning. Papers outlining my plan to ride in like the white knight you’ve hoped I’d be, settling all his debts in exchange for an interest in his company. Fifty-one percent interest.”
“Fifty-one percent?” Savannah dug in her heels, so that Harry had no choice but to stop. “Sam will never go for you having con
trolling interest in the company.”
“I’m betting he will, especially when we wire him that we’ve just eloped, pretty much cutting off his options with James Vaughn. Once we’re married, Savannah, it will be my way or the highway, and Sam is going to know that. Frankly, I need him to know that.”
“But—but, you don’t want to marry me. I know that was the plan with James Vaughn, but I certainly didn’t come here today to beg you to marry me, save me. I wanted a white knight, Harry, not a bridegroom.”
“Then you want me to call off my lawyers?” he asked her, turning on the sidewalk to face her, his hands on her shoulders. “Cancel the offer? Stand back and watch you sacrifice yourself to James Vaughn because of some twisted idea you’ve got that you can’t walk away from Sam and Annette without first giving them some great big farewell gift of solvency?”
“You know I don’t want to marry James Vaughn,” Savannah said. “But marry you? Is that really necessary?”
“It is if I’m going to get Sam to see the light, realize that James Vaughn can’t do for him what I can do for him. Vaughn won’t have any incentive to help Sam anyway, Savannah, not once the main prize is gone.”
“Me? I’m the main prize? The company is the main prize. Don’t be ridiculous, Harry.”
“You always did underestimate yourself, Savannah. I don’t know why, but for a very smart girl, you’ve never really been able to see yourself very well. I blame Sam for that, as well, always happy to tell everyone that Annette got the looks and you got the brains, and making it sound like you lost on both counts. You’re lovely, Savannah, and always have been, in your own way. Believe me, James Vaughn is having some pretty wild dreams about having a young, beautiful virgin in his bed.”
Savannah looked down at her too tight shoes. Harry was embarrassing her, hurting her, and at the same time making her feel wonderful. “Who says I’m a virgin?”
For the first time since she’d walked into Harry’s office and felt her life turn upside down for the second time in days, Savannah heard him laugh out loud, definitely in very real amusement.
Brides Of Privilege (v1.3) Page 3
