by Linda Cajio
He gave her that assessing look she had quickly come to recognize. The muscles in her thighs tightened in reaction. Lord, he looked sexy in casual slacks and a brilliant-blue shirt. Realizing her thoughts were dangerous, she forced a smile to her lips and added, “I probably pulled the muscle a little.”
He nodded. “I’ve got a trick knee from my high-school-football days, and it sometimes goes out on me.” He grimaced. “Hell, I only have to look at it, and the damn thing will decide to act up.”
High-school football, Cass mused as he turned to signal the hostess. He had probably been the quarterback, and she imagined cheerleaders falling all over him in girlish glee. He must have loved it.
She hid a smile of amusement as she watched him charm the hostess into giving them a table immediately. The main dining room was jammed.
“We’ll be out on the deck,” he said, taking her elbow and guiding her through the crowded room to the outside eating area, along a picturesque canal.
“Did you slip her a tip?” she murmured over the din of glasses, silverware, and voices.
“For shame. Sheer genius wins out every time,” he replied in a low voice.
Cass chuckled. “I never would have guessed you had it in you.”
He grinned at her, refusing to be baited. She refused to be rattled. And that wouldn’t be easy, she thought. She was all too aware of his nearness … and the knuckles of his hand barely touching the side of her breast through her pink linen jump suit. She forced herself not to think of it.
After they were seated at one of the umbrella tables, Cass stared out at the boats drifting by the restaurant. The tension in her body was growing, and she hoped the peaceful scene would dispel it.
“How long have you lived here?” he asked.
She forced her gaze to his hard features. “Since I got out of college. I’ve always loved the shore, so this is where I settled and opened WinterLand. It made no sense to major in marketing and not use it. I like working for myself.”
He smiled at her blatant hint. “I like fixing things. Sort of goes with the business-administration degree. Unfortunately, corporations tend to locate in cities.”
She nodded. “There’s a sense of community here. Belonging.”
“You like that?”
“Yes,” she said, not bothering to elaborate. Explaining her crazy childhood was like explaining the national budget. Damn near impossible.
He turned toward the canal for a moment, then back. He smiled, and she realized he was making an effort to be an easy, relaxed companion. He was probably doing it to get her off her guard, and it was working. She forced herself to stay sharp.
Once their meal had been served, Dallas said, “I thought you never ate lunch.”
“I never eat lunch that I have to pay for,” Cass said quickly, remembering her lame excuse to avoid this meal. What the heck, she thought as the beloved aroma of shellfish made her salivate. She dug her fork into her deviled crab cakes.
“Okay, then it looks like I talk,” he said, after eating one of the clams from his steamer platter.
He gave her a very innocent smile. She braced herself for whatever bomb he would drop.
“In 1296, the Clericis laicos forbade any ruler, under pain of excommunication, to levy taxes on Church property without permission of the Holy See.”
Cass stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Where did you learn that?”
“The local library,” Dallas said, smiling at her. “Which isn’t easy to find in a shore resort. Since canon law was the only conversational topic allowed at this lunch, I thought I better brush up. By the way, that little ditty on taxes came from Boniface the third.”
“And now I suppose you can name all the popes,” Cass commented mirthfully.
“Peter, Linus, Anacletus, Clement, Evar—”
“Okay, okay,” she interrupted, chuckling at his recitation.
He gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I’m glad I don’t have to do all the rest. I tend to get lost around the tenth century. Now for my next trick …”
She watched as he set the edge of his fork against the edge of the spoon. He hit the spoon, and the fork flipped up in the air. He caught it in mid-flight and proceeded to scoop out another clam.
Cass burst into laughter again as several nearby diners applauded. She admitted that it was hard not to like a man who went out of his way to memorize all the popes and flip forks for a woman. Still, popes and forks couldn’t have anything to do with the reason he had invited her to lunch. The sooner she knew why he wanted to talk with her, the better. She’d avoided it long enough.
“Leaving the topic of canon law for the moment,” Cass said, “why don’t you tell me the real reason behind this lunch?”
He raised an eyebrow. “People with a common interest have lunch together every day. We both have a common interest in M & L, and we’ve never met before.”
“You joined the company six months ago and never bothered to look me up before this,” she said, keeping her gaze steady on him. She felt as if she were fencing with Captain Kidd—a very attractive Captain Kidd. Ignoring the thought as best she could, she added, “I wonder why that is.”
Dallas gazed at her for a long moment. It was hard not to when she was wearing a jump suit that molded to her every curve. Her hair was pulled up into one of those artfully untidy buns so that wispy, incredibly sexy-looking tendrils caressed her slim neck and shoulders.
The measuring expression in her green eyes was hardly that of a spacy, lost-in-the-past girl, and he reminded himself that he would have to be careful with her. It was important that he plant the seed that would start her thinking. If she was anything like her grandfather, she’d be chairman of the board before the year was out—and never realize he’d maneuvered her into it!
At last he responded to her. “I was brought in as president because I’ve turned around several faltering companies. It’s what I like to do. M & L’s been taking heavy losses for several years now.”
Cass frowned. “I know the profits haven’t grown. But that’s no reason to call them losses, certainly not heavy ones. And anyway, there’s been a recession, most companies’ growth rates are slower—”
“Most of M & L’s profit loss,” he pronounced softly, “is the result of bad judgment on the part of its chairman. Nothing more.”
Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him in clear astonishment. “Are you saying that Ned has been causing faltering profits?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are my dividend checks still what they’ve always been?” she shot back triumphantly. “If the company’s profits were falling off, that would be reflected in the dividends it pays out.”
“Because I think Ned is paying the difference out of what cash flow the company has to cover his mistakes. Certain things just aren’t ringing true at M & L.”
She set her fork down on her plate in a deliberate motion. “I don’t believe you.”
He dipped his head once. “I expected that. You know about the Basicwear line, right?”
“Yes,” she said in a near hiss. She was becoming defensive, and he was pleased by it. It meant she was unsure. “It’s a fairly new line that M & L is putting out for the discount department stores.”
This is where it has to count, he thought, then said aloud, “So you must also know that the company has poured a great deal of money into the line during the past year to get it off the ground. It’s barely surviving in the marketplace, because the goods are cheap. Not only in price, but in workmanship.”
“Ned said—”
“Ever hear of Lusty Lingerie?” he continued. “It specializes in leather nighties, black-lace corsets, and other items of that kind. I won’t bother to tell you the rest, as I’m sure you get the idea.”
“You mean …”
From the horrified expression on her face, it was obvious she was envisioning lingerie that out-Frederick’s’ed Fredrick’s of Hollywood. And the damn stuff did, Dallas
thought.
“Are you telling me,” she asked slowly, “that M & L makes Lusty Lingerie?”
“Yes. M & L started shipping it just after I came on board.” He leaned forward in his chair. “It was all done quietly. No announcements in the Journal, no hoopla advertising. But aren’t you wondering—just a little—why you, as a major stockholder, weren’t made aware of it?”
“I told you, I’m not involved in the day-to-day operation of the company,” she said. “I just happened to have some shares, that’s all.”
“You have 30 percent of the shares, and each share carries one vote,” Dallas said, pointing a finger at her. “That’s a little more than some. Ned Marks holds the same number as you, but with your proxy agreement he has a full majority over the other stockholders. And he’s been having a field day.”
“I’ll admit I’m not exactly crazy about … Lusty Lingerie.” She blushed bright red, then groaned. “Lord! What a name!”
He grinned crookedly at her. “That it is. You ought to hear the sales department on the phone pushing orders for Midnight Madness Peignoirs and Sinfully Scented Pan—”
“Please!” She held up a hand. “Trust me, Dallas. I don’t want to know. Personally, I don’t like it, but I know sex is big business—”
“For another company, yes,” he broke in, his grin fading. “Basicwear and Lusty are actually hurting M & L. One takes the quality out of the company, and the other takes the class. Now Ned wants to start a national chain of Lusty Lingerie boutiques. And he wants to go public with stock to finance the expansion.”
She admitted it sounded a little risky to her, but she really didn’t know the exact situation at M & L. Still, going public could be good for growth. “Ned knows the business. I remember when I first gave the proxy to him, he was pushing for the company to make teddy lingerie. Teddies caught on shortly after. He has to know what he’s doing in this too.”
“That was Ned’s shining moment, Cass,” he said, disgust evident in his tone. “And he’s been riding on it ever since. BasicWear and Lusty were a mistake. His mistake, and he’s covering them up by keeping the dividends high. Also, if a company seems to be paying high dividends, then people will be rushing to buy its stock. Ned’s looking for the boutiques and me to create windfall profits. The boutiques are a fatal business mistake, and if they go through, I won’t be able to save this company. Nobody could then.”
“The Markses have always been the business heads of the operation,” Cass said, her voice low.
“David and Elias, yes,” he said, resting his elbows on the table. He made a steeple with his fingers. “Not Ned. And if you think that only the Markses had the savvy, then you didn’t know your grandfather very well.”
She straightened in her chair and snapped, “I knew him, Dallas. I know he never wanted the shares to be anything other than a gift. A nest egg, if you will, to keep one worry from the doorstep. Ned’s been working for M & L since he was a kid, so he knows the business better than anyone else. If he thinks this is best …”
He glanced down at his half-eaten lunch for a moment, then said, “Some people, Cass, are excellent in certain positions and totally wrong in others. You’re a businesswoman. Go up to M & L’s offices in New York and find out for yourself.”
“No,” she said coldly. “I see no reason to question this, especially on your say-so. I’m just a stockholder who has enough sense not to interfere in something she doesn’t know or understand. My interests are strictly in WinterLand.”
“Really?” Dallas leaned back in his chair and smiled. In a ruthlessly soft voice he said, “Then why are you still a major stockholder in a company that holds absolutely no interest for you? Your father never felt an ancestral obligation to keep his stock, so why should you?”
She stared at him.
He casually flipped the fork in the air and caught it again.
“I believe, Ms. Lindley, that’s two for two.”
Still numb from the bruising conversation at lunch, Cass slowly walked through the door of her shop. It was empty of customers, and Jean Raswell, her assistant manager, immediately pounced on her.
“If I had known you were having lunch with such a gorgeous man, I’d have forced the details out of you before you left,” the plump, motherly-looking woman said, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. “Who is he, and does he have an older, equally gorgeous single friend? Spill the beans, Lindley.”
Cass smothered a sigh. “He’s Dallas Carter. Gorgeous is your opinion, not mine. And I have no idea whether he’s got a friend. He’s the president of M & L.”
“A big shot from Marks and Lindley?” Jean’s eyebrows rose in speculation. “Those lovely people who keep you rich?”
“Those lovely people.” Cass spied the day’s mail sitting on top of the counter. Knowing a great excuse when she saw one, she snatched the pile. “I think I’ll go in the back.”
As she headed for the storeroom, Jean called out, “At least tell me where he took you for lunch, Cass!”
“McDonald’s.”
Hurrying through the storeroom doorway, Cass shut the door on Jean’s snort of disbelief. The last thing she wanted to talk about was Dallas Carter. It was bad enough that she’d have to think about what he had said at lunch. She didn’t need to think about how “gorgeous” the man was too.
She walked over to the old scarred desk by the back door and tossed the mail on top of it. She sat down in the office chair, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes, hoping the peace and quiet would soothe her frayed nerves.
Immediately her mind was filled with the image of how he had looked at lunch. Lord, but that shirt had stretched so perfectly across his shoulders.…
She pushed the thought away, very annoyed with herself for her attraction to him. Instead, she concentrated on their conversation. She knew she should have been prepared for Dallas’s question about keeping the stock. She groaned aloud as she remembered how she had stammered her way through a nearly incoherent answer. She should have just been honest and told him that she had this quirky thing about keeping the shares.
He’d sounded so positive and straightforward about problems at M & L, Cass thought. Despite her protest, she had found herself almost believing him, just for an instant, of course.
But could one person’s bad judgment be the sole cause of a company’s financial problems? No way, she answered herself sharply. Her dividend checks hadn’t fluctuated all that much since Ned had taken over the company. She guessed that Basicwear and Lusty Lingerie were projects designed to bring in fast profits to make the company look good before it went public.
She couldn’t help shuddering at the thought of M & L’s producing red-tasseled bras and zippered panties. What ever had happened to two naked people in a bed making old-fashioned love? It didn’t sound at all dull to her, especially if …
Pushing the disturbing thought away, she admitted that she couldn’t remember reading anything about the Lusty Lingerie line in the notices she received as an M & L stockholder. While she couldn’t imagine a horrible name like Lusty Lingerie not catching her eye, she had to have missed it. Maybe the announcement had come when she’d been getting WinterLand ready for its annual season opening. She barely had time to read her gas bills then. Still, the line was bound to bring in big profits. But why Dallas would object to a broader retail base …
Cass straightened in her chair. No company executive worth his salt would object to that. In fact, it would be exactly what he would want. So what could Dallas Carter really be after?
An answer suddenly shot through her, rooting her to the spot. Dallas claimed Ned was not a good chairman. If she lost confidence in Ned and others followed, then the logical step would be to replace him. She took a real easy guess at who Dallas wanted that person to be. Himself.
“That filthy …” Biting off the rest of her words, she reached for the telephone, intent on finding out whether the other six stockholders had had similar conversations with one Mr. Dallas Ca
rter.
Slowly she dropped the phone back onto the hook. She’d never called anyone before about M & L. She couldn’t even remember what the company’s number was!
“Dumb, Lindley. Very dumb,” she muttered, and pressed her fingertips against her eyes.
Maybe she was approaching this from the wrong direction, she thought. Who on the board would Dallas try to persuade first? Ned held another 30 percent, but he was out, of course. She remembered that Ned’s cousin, Sheila, held 10 percent. Four long-time employees had been given 5 percent each. The law firm that handled M & L’s account had another 5, and the presidential position held the last 5, so she assumed they were now Dallas’s. If she wanted to split a board, she knew she’d go after the biggest holder first, before attempting to sway the others.
A thought occurred to her about board meetings, and, hoping to find a notice or letter from M & L about the upcoming one, she whipped open the drawers of her desk and riffled through the catalogs and paper work.
“Damn! This is what you get for being one of the uncaring masses,” she mumbled, as her search turned up nothing. The darn thing was probably mixed in with paper work at the house.
Deciding that the lost notice gave her a good excuse to call Ned, she flipped through the Rolodex she kept on the desk, until she found his office number.
As she dialed, she wondered how to explain having lunch with Dallas. It sounded so … cozy. Ned was probably under enough business pressure without worrying about her wavering in her loyalty. But she would feel him out about Dallas’s “concerns.”
After identifying herself to four different secretaries, she finally got through to him.
“Cassandra,” Ned said, although the surprise in his voice almost turned her name into a question. “How are you? How’s your little shop?”
“Business is fine, and other than a spill down the stairs, I’m fine, too,” she said.
