-#-
Rose was the best offer Adam had had in a long, long time. When she scooted over on the couch, he sank down, a little closer than he’d intended.
The rolling thunder of the theme music blasted through the room, as Rose sighed and leaned her shoulder against his. A ray of warmth started where her arm touched his and continued until it flowed throughout his body.
His first reaction was to wrap his arms around her and kiss her until they both lost control, but he’d only known her for a few days. He wasn’t an animal. She’d been kind enough to help him, and he shouldn’t—couldn’t jump her at the first opportunity.
Just as he got his libido under control, Rose laid her head on his shoulder. Maybe she did want to snuggle. Adam glanced at her only to realize she was asleep again. So much for their magnetic connection.
He gently laid her head in his lap and, with difficulty, went back to watching Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back. His fingers skimmed through the silky softness of her hair, brushing it off her face then caressed the tender skin of her arm. Her dark lashes fanned out against her creamy cheeks, and her pink lips moved as she mumbled in her sleep.
As he bent over and placed a fairy soft kiss on those lips, a tingle shot into his body. He straightened, took a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts and turned his mind to the television. Using it to escape from reality, he relaxed, but as he did, his thoughts found their way back to the will.
Rose was right about the businesses.
On one hand, if Lillian closed all of the businesses at the same time, it would be a huge blow to this town. On the other hand, this town had never done a thing for him. He'd been the outcast, the boy who never fit in.
On the other hand . . . Wait! Three hands? So maybe he was an alien.
Assuming he could have a third hand, he didn't have anything else to do right now. He’d miss some spring rodeos, but maybe the tradeoff would be worth it. Besides, Rose intrigued him.
What kind of woman was a disc jockey for a radio show about aliens? Certainly, no one he'd ever met before. She was also kind and smart, with a wicked sense of humor. Reason enough to hang around and get to know her better.
He slid out from under her, plumping a pillow beneath her head.
After gathering the scattered papers, he moved into the kitchen to let Rose sleep. He dug out a notebook and pen and began reading the will and making a list of every pertinent point. If he was going to do this, and he hadn’t made up his mind yet, he was going to do it right.
Starting with the businesses, he put each name at the top of a column. Listing employees, wages, gross income and net, he gradually got a picture of the situation, and it wasn’t pretty.
He’d have to cut the employees in half. Doable for some, but the motel and the flower shop were owner run. No way to cut there. He sat back and tossed the pen on the table. Why was he even looking at this mess? At this point, it looked hopeless.
Adam was still sitting at the table, scribbling notes when he heard Rose stir.
“What's going on? Get tired of Star Wars already?” she said rubbing her eyes and struggling to sit.
“You're one to talk. You made it a whole fifteen minutes.”
“No sir, at least twenty.” She grinned. “You making a grocery list?
He glanced up to see her running her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth the worst case of bed head he’d ever seen. He laughed as he stood and walked into the living room.
“I was making a list of things I'll have to do if I stay and try to make a go of this. First is finding a place to live. That's a problem, because I don't have much money and according to these papers, I only get what the businesses make. They aren’t making a dime—they aren’t even breaking even.”
“You've got your grandfather's house.”
“Not an option. I'd rather live in my car. Well, make that your car because my truck is in Wyoming. Let’s put it this way, I’ll sleep on the street before I step into that monument to the narcissistic bastard.
“Okay?” she said as she moved across the room to his side. “Check off the first item on your list. You helped me when I needed it most, and I have an extra room. I owe you. When you get some money ahead, you can pay rent. I’ve always wanted to be a real estate tycoon.”
Staying here, in Rose’s home. He hadn’t thought of that, but he liked the idea. “Rosie the Renter.” He’d have to leave when this was over, but for now, he was home.
She smiled, lifted the sheaf of papers from his hand and continued. “Before I dropped off to sleep, I looked through the information they sent over about the radio station. It wouldn't take much to make it profitable. I can't believe it hasn’t been done before now.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“It's like your grandfather’s goal was to lose money.” Rose plopped back down on the sofa, lifting her feet to perch them on the coffee table. “We could hit up some of the local businesses for advertising.”
“They aren’t going to give us money out of the goodness of their hearts. We’ll need to find an incentive.”
“And we will, but later.” Rose wiggled over to make room for him beside her. “Why don’t we go through the rest of the paper work and get an idea of where you stand in regard to the profit and loss of the businesses?”
They sat together and one by one read the small amount of information Adam had been given, making a list of the important points. Landon's garage was the best candidate for transformation with the radio station coming in second.
Rose tapped her finger on the paper. “I stop at Landon’s all the time to fuel up, but I've never had any mechanical work done. By the looks of this.” She hesitated, waving her hand over the stack of papers. “The garage has three full time mechanics. Three, in a town this size. I wonder how much they’re paid.”
Adam shook his head then wrote the words three mechanics followed by a question mark on the list for the garage, drawing a star before and after each suggestion.
Rose took the notebook and flipped to a clean page. “We need to start a list of important points about the current operations of the businesses.”
Leaning back in her chair, she stopped writing. She tapped the pencil on her teeth then chewed on the eraser while she watched him.
“What?” His gaze locked on her face, relishing her smooth olive skin.
She dropped the pencil to the table with a soft clunk then folded her hands on the table in front of her. “I guess this is my first question. Are you going to stay or go? There's no use putting a bunch of work into this if you're leaving tomorrow.”
Her gaze held him for a moment then he glanced down to his hands. Easier to do that than look into her café au lait eyes.
Just the thought of all the work it was going to take made him shudder. Even worse were all the memories that would be stirred up by this project. He'd been alone most of his life, both before and after he'd left Tullyville. So far, he’d managed to forget or at least push away the misery his life had been when he'd lived here before.
Rose was the only bright spot he associated with this town. She made him laugh, and he hadn’t laughed in a long time. Maybe this was what it was like to have a friend. He honestly couldn’t remember ever having one. Anytime he got close to anyone, his grandfather had put a stop to it.
If he left, he'd be alone again. The long, lonely years hadn’t bothered him. He’d thought he preferred it that way. Now he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back. “Will you help if I stay?”
She didn't even hesitate. “Yes.”
His Rose was a piece of work, and that was for sure. Four days ago, she hadn't known him, and when she first met him she thought he was an alien. Now she was going to help him on one of the most difficult things he'd ever set out to do. She didn't know how difficult, not yet, and he couldn’t tell her. There were some things he couldn't tell anyone. Some things were just too painful.
Still uncertain, he sat down beside her. “Do you think we hav
e a chance of beating him at his own game?”
Again, her answer was clear-cut, not a sliver of doubt in her voice. “Yes.”
“How can you be sure? You don't even know what's going on yet?” Adam said.
“What have we got to lose?”
She was right. He didn't have a damn thing to lose. Never had. Adam found the phone and made an appointment for two p.m. on Monday afternoon with Mr. Bailey. He looked at his watch. He had twenty-four hours before heading into the jackal’s den again.
-#-
This time when he arrived at the offices of Bailey and Anson, he was surprised to find the dread associated with the first meeting gone.
The same secretary—what was her name—ushered him into a room filled with an enormous oak table and overstuffed leather chairs and a wall of windows looking out on downtown Trinidad.
“Can I get you something to drink, coffee or maybe water?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” he said and she turned and left him alone. As he sat waiting, Adam marveled that he'd made this decision so quickly and easily. Friday afternoon, he’d been sure he was walking away from this town, leaving his grandfather and all his games behind.
Mr. Bailey opened the door, stepped back then allowed a woman to enter the room before him. “Adam, I'm sure you remember Ms. Keeler.”
Unlike their first meeting, Ms. Keeler stepped forward, a bright smile on her face, her hand extended.
When he didn’t bother to stand, she leaned down beside him and covered his hand with hers. Her touch was cool and light.
“I feel I owe you an apology, Mr. Howell. When we met before, I was in shock, and I'm afraid I behaved rather badly. Please let me say how sorry I am about your grandfather and how pleased I am to meet you.” She took his hand in both of hers, the very soul of grace.
Adam stood slowly, taking in the change in her attitude, and the striking difference in her appearance.
Today she was dressed in a sky-blue tank top paired with a multi-colored, multi-layered silk skirt that hugged her hips. Her streaked blonde hair floated around her shoulders, accentuating her milky skin and full, red lips. He wouldn’t have recognized her had he seen her on the street. She was a different person, in both looks and disposition.
“Pleased to meet you,” he mumbled then straightened. “My name’s not Howell, it’s Adam Cameron.”
“Mr. Cameron then or do you mind if I call you Adam?” she said, a warm smile lighting her face. “And please, call me Lillian.”
When they were seated, Mr. Bailey turned his attention to Adam. “Have you come to a decision then?”
Adam relaxed back into the chair, his left ankle resting on his right knee, his cowboy hat balanced on his boot. His gaze fell on Lillian for a moment then he turned his attention to the lawyer. “I'm going to go for it. I want all the paperwork for each business. Also, I want everything else that has anything to do with anything. And, I want it today.”
Before Mr. Bailey could answer, Lillian broke in. “I have all the business records at the house. I assumed you would be moving in, so I had Mr. Howell's possessions packed and put into storage. The master bedroom is ready, as is the office. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Adam stared at her. She was beautiful, stunning really, and she was trying to be helpful. The transformation in her attitude along with the change in her appearance was disturbing. Maybe he hadn’t recovered from the way she'd snubbed him that first day, but he had the feeling he wasn’t talking to the same person.
Then again, if he'd spent seven years working for old man, he might be in shock at his death. No, he'd be dancing in the streets, but she was losing her job and probably her home, so it was bound to affect her differently.
“I won't be living in the house, Ms. Keeler. Please deliver the paperwork to the address I gave Mr. Bailey.”
He watched as she tried to compose her face, and he heard the note of panic in her voice. “But what about me?” She hesitated then took a deep breath, fighting for control. “When do you want me gone? Can you give me some time to find another place to live?”
“You know more about these businesses than anyone else.” He rubbed his palms against his jeans. Just thinking about going back to the mansion made prickles of dread crawl across his skin. “I won’t be living in Simon’s house. In fact, you can use any rooms you want until we decide what to do with the place.”
“Thank you, Adam,” she said, visibly calming. “I'll have copies of all the paper work delivered by tomorrow. Here's my cell number if you need to contact me.” She handed him a card. “Call any time.” She smiled. “And thank you. Thank you so much.”
Chapter Six
In the time it took Adam to conduct his business, Rose showered and dried her hair. It was good to feel human again. She was finally steady on her feet, and the headache had become just small background noise.
She worked her hair into a single braid and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with Life—with or without softener—is hard emblazoned across the front. For the first time in four days she was presentable. Her clothes weren’t fancy, but Adam would finally see her at better than her worst.
Bottled spaghetti sauce with fried onions, peppers and fresh tomatoes to add spice, bubbled away on the stove. Earlier, she’d thawed a loaf of frozen French bread. The aroma from the baking bread now filled the house. She was a hell of a gourmet cook so long as she could pull it out of the freezer or make it from a box.
“Hi honey, I'm home,” Adam called from the doorway.
As he entered the kitchen, he stopped. “Now that you’re feeling better, I should probably stop acting as if I own this place.”
Rose glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “Mi Casa is Su Castle.”
“What?” Adam chuckled at how she mangled the Spanish language.
“I heard it on TV. I think it means, my home is your castle, but I’m about as fluent in Spanish as I am in food.”
“Something smells good, and you look great.” He wandered across the kitchen and stood behind her as she stirred the sauce.
She turned, leaned her head on his chest and sighed. “We’re just like the Cleavers, only with no kids.”
“June and Ward, the younger years.”
Rose served up plates of spaghetti and bread while Adam gave her the details of the meeting with Mr. Bailey. When he described Lillian, Rose felt a pang of, well, she didn't know what. She didn't know Adam well enough to be jealous, but to hear him talk about how Lillian Keeler had miraculously changed from a dowdy old maid to a beautiful young woman was enough to cause her jaw to clench.
And she didn’t want to be that kind of women. Clingy after only four days wouldn’t do. Even if the mere sight of him in those tight Wranglers made her think about taking off her clothes, she wouldn’t allow herself to fall into that behavior.
Change of subject time. “Are they sending over the paperwork?” she asked.
Adam nodded, his mouth full of food. After swallowing, he said, “Lillian is making copies and sending them over here. She said she'd be available whenever I needed her. She should be a lot of help. She’s worked with the old man for years and seems to be competent.”
There was that little pang again. Maybe an aspirin would take care of it.
“Well, it sounds like you won't need my help. Lillian will fill the bill nicely.” She tried to keep the snark from her voice but didn't quite succeed.
Adam reached across the table and curled his warm fingers around her forearm. “I know it's a lot to ask, and if you can't, I understand, but . . . you said you'd help, and I'd really like it if you would.”
Whether he knew it or not, he’d said exactly the right thing to Rose. She nodded her agreement as she reached for another slice of warm bread.
“When do we get to see all the good stuff? I can't believe that old man was as awful as you say.” She meant it as a joke, but the look on his face told her she’d said exactly the wrong thing.
“Adam, w
ait. I was kidding. I believe you.” She started to rise from her chair, but it was too late.
Without another word, he left the kitchen, walked into the guest bedroom and closed the door with a soft click.
Stunned, Rose sat at the table and played with the remains of her spaghetti. What set him off? She’d made a simple joke. With her appetite gone, she cleaned the kitchen, packing the food into the refrigerator, scrubbing everything a second time while waiting for Adam to reappear.
She’d hurt him. That much was clear. But wasn’t he over-reacting? Rose tried to nap, but her mind kept replaying their conversation, spinning back to her remark. It just didn’t seem so bad.
She had to leave for work at nine-thirty, and just as she was pulling on her coat, Adam appeared beside her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, startled then relieved. Maybe he’d gotten over his anger.
“You don't think I'm going to let you drive, do you?” he said, his voice short and sharp.
Maybe not entirely over it then. There was no smile for her this time. Ward Cleaver was gone, replaced by Joe Friday—Just the facts, Ma’am.
“You don't have to do this. I don't get off work until two in the morning, and you've been up all day.”
“You haven’t fully recovered, and you've been up all day. I can sleep while you do your show. He turned and walked out the door, down the walk.
She held out her hands. “Adam, I said I was sorry. Wait.” When he continued to move away, she dropped her arms to her sides and followed him to the car.
Rose tried several times on the way to the station to apologize or start a conversation, but all she got were one-word answers. She finally gave up and sat in silence for the rest of the drive.
-#-
Aliens Hidden Amongst Us wasn’t going over with her callers as well as she hoped. It seemed, like Adam, no one was anxious to talk to her tonight, and filling air space took a lot of energy. It was a good thing she'd done some Internet research this afternoon while Adam was meeting with the lawyers.
She talked until she was tired of hearing her own voice and then practically begged for someone to dial the station number. Shortly after one a.m., she got lucky.
Radio Rose (Change of Heart Cowboys Book 1) Page 8
