“Why Don’t You Take A Few Days To Make Your Decision?” Christian Offered.
“According to the will, you’ve got a couple of weeks to take your place at the resort.” He scribbled his cell number on the back of his business card, then handed it to her.
She ran her thumb over the embossed lettering in a slow stroke that was mesmerizing to Christian. His body stirred and he shifted uncomfortably on his chair.
What he’d like to do was blow off the business talk, take her for an elegant meal and then off to his hotel. If she was any other woman, that’s exactly what he would do.
But Erica Prentice was off-limits. If she ended up going to Aspen, his body had better get used to living with disappointment.
“We both know what that decision will be.”
“You’re going to accept the conditions of the will?”
“How can I not?”
Dear Reader,
It’s always exciting being invited to take part in a continuity series for Silhouette Desire. First, because I love writing Desires. Second, because it gives me a chance to work closely with some of the amazing writers in the line.
This time was no exception. In the Jarrod continuity, my book is first. I get the chance to introduce characters, and show you the location of our stories. If I’ve done my job right, then hopefully you’ll be convinced to stick around and read the next five books in this series.
The Jarrod dynasty was born in Aspen, Colorado, more than a hundred years ago. The family’s grown along with the town and now the Jarrod Resort is the epitome of lush extravagance. The Jarrod family itself is what all Desire families should be—larger than life. In this series, there are secrets to uncover, hidden loves to reveal and happy endings to find.
In my book, you’ll meet Christian Hanford, an attorney who owes everything to the late Donald Jarrod. And his heroine is Erica Prentice, a woman whose life is about to be turned upside down.
I hope you’ll enjoy yourselves with this first installment of Dynasties: The Jarrods. And I hope you’ll let us all know what you think! E-mail me at [email protected] or snail mail me at P.O. Box 1883, Westminster, CA 92684-1883.
And happy reading!
Maureen
MAUREEN CHILD
CLAIMING HER BILLION-DOLLAR BIRTHRIGHT
To family.
Mine. Yours.
And to all the wonderful, irritating moments we share with them.
Books by Maureen Child
Silhouette Desire
The Part-Time Wife #1755
Beyond the Boardroom #1765
Thirty Day Affair #1785
†Scorned by the Boss #1816
†Seduced by the Rich Man #1820
†Captured by the Billionaire #1826
††Bargaining for King’s Baby #1857
††Marrying for King’s Millions #1862
††Falling for King’s Fortune #1868
High-Society Secret Pregnancy #1879
Baby Bonanza #1893
An Officer and a Millionaire #1915
Seduced Into a Paper Marriage #1946
††Conquering King’s Heart #1965
††Claiming King’s Baby #1971
††Wedding at King’s Convenience #1978
††The Last Lone Wolf #2011
Claiming Her Billion-Dollar Birthright #2024
MAUREEN CHILD
is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband are taking off on another research trip. The author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a golden retriever with delusions of grandeur. Visit Maureen’s Web site at www.maureenchild.com.
From The Last Will And Testament Of Donald Jarrod
…and to my youngest child, my daughter Erica Prentice, I bequeath the sixth portion of my estate. Erica, I understand that your inclusion in this document will be a surprise to not only yourself, but to your brothers and sister, as well. It is my deepest wish that you will find a way to become part of the Jarrod family, fractured though it is. I am also leaving you the theater program for the play where I was first so lucky to have met your mother. I’ve kept this tattered playbill as a remembrance of your lovely mother…as a remembrance of you. It is my hope that, by giving you a place at Jarrod Ridge, I’ve also given you a chance to know some part of me, as well.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Prologue
Christian Hanford refused to sit in a dead man’s chair.
So instead, he walked to the front of Don Jarrod’s desk and perched uneasily on the edge. The old man’s study was in the family living quarters on the top floor of Jarrod Manor. Here at Jarrod Ridge resort, everything was luxurious. Even a study that the public never saw. Paneled walls, thick carpets, original oils on the walls and a massive fireplace built of river stones. Of course, there was no cheerful blaze in the hearth, since summer had settled over Colorado.
He imagined none of the people in the room felt cheerful anyway. How could he blame them? They’d lost their father only a week before and now, they’d just had the proverbial rug pulled out from under them.
Years ago, each of the Jarrod children had left Jarrod Ridge, the plush resort that had been in their family for generations, to make their own way. Their father had pushed them all so hard to succeed that he’d managed to drive them away, one by one. To come back now, when it was too late to mend fences, was a hard thing to accept.
Not to mention the fact that in death, Don had figured out a way to not only bring them all home—but to keep them there. Something he hadn’t been able to do in life.
The huge Jarrod estate was to be divided equally among his children—on the condition that they all move home and take over running their legacy. Each of the Jarrod siblings had been slapped hard and none of them were happy about it. The old man had found a way to control them from the grave.
Which wasn’t sitting well.
Christian watched them all, understanding how they must feel, but sworn to abide by his late client’s wishes. God knows he’d tried to talk Don out of this, but the old man had been nothing if not stubborn.
Blake Jarrod and his brother Guy were the oldest. Though not identical, the twins each carried the stamp of their father. Blake was more the buttoned-down type, while Guy was a bit more easygoing. Gavin was two years younger than the twins, but he and Blake had worked together for quite a while out in Vegas.
Trevor Jarrod was the most laid-back of the bunch—or at least that was the demeanor he showed the world. Then there was Melissa. The youngest and the only girl.
Or so she thought.
Christian sent a mental kick out to his now deceased mentor for leaving him in this position. But even in death, Don had wanted to rule the Jarrod clan and no doubt, wherever he was now, he didn’t really care that it was Christian getting stuck with the dirty work.
Blake stood up as if he couldn’t bear sitting still another minute. Just a week since Don Jarrod’s death, none of his children had had a chance to come to terms with his passing. And now they’d all been sucker punched.
They’d left the cemetery just an hour before and after reading through most of the will’s bequests, emotions were running high. Well, Christian thought, they were about to go even h
igher.
“Why are we still here, Christian?” Guy asked from his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees. “You’ve read the will, what’s left to say?”
“There’s one more thing to cover.”
“What haven’t you covered?” Trevor asked, shifting a glance around the room at his brothers and sister. “Seems pretty clear to me. Dad’s arranged things to get us back to Jarrod Ridge. Just like he always wanted.”
“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Melissa whispered.
Gavin dropped one arm around her shoulders and gave her a supportive hug. “It’ll be okay, Mel.”
“Will it?” Blake asked. “We’ve all got lives separate from the Ridge. Now we’re supposed to walk away from whatever we’ve built to come back home and take over?”
“I understand how you feel,” Christian said softly and waited until all eyes were on him. “I do. I told Don this wasn’t the way to handle things.”
“Let me guess,” Guy interrupted, “Dad wouldn’t listen.”
“He had his own ideas.”
“Always did,” Trevor mused.
“The point is,” Blake said, voice loud enough that everyone settled down to hear him, “Dad split the estate up equally between the five of us. So what’s left to talk about?”
There was his opening, Christian thought, bracing himself for what would come in response to his next statement. “The fact that the estate’s been split, not into five equal shares, but six.”
“Six?” Gavin repeated, glancing around at his siblings as if doing an unnecessary head count. “But there are only five of us.”
“Don’s last surprise,” Christian said quietly. “You have a sister you’ve never met.”
One
“Please send him in, Monica.” Erica Prentice checked her hair and smoothed the front of her sleeveless black dress. She turned to glance out the narrow window behind her desk and took a quick moment to enjoy the pitifully small glimpse of the ocean afforded her.
Situated firmly at the bottom of the totem pole at Brighton and Bailey, a PR firm in San Francisco, Erica didn’t exactly rate the best view. But that was okay, she told herself. She’d prove herself—both to her employers and her father, no matter how long it took.
But right now, she was meeting with an attorney who had refused to tell her what he wanted to see her about. Which accounted for the jangle of nerves in the pit of her stomach. She was enough her father’s daughter to realize that the sudden appearance of a lawyer rarely heralded good news. The Prentice Group, one of the largest clothing manufacturers in the country, were constantly dealing with attorney-led problems. Briefly, she thought about calling her father to ask him if he knew anything about a lawyer from Colorado, but then realized she didn’t have time for that.
Behind her, the office door opened and she turned to greet her visitor. But whatever she might have said died unuttered at her first look at the man standing in the doorway.
The elegantly cut dark blue business suit he wore only emphasized the muscular body beneath. His shoulders were broad, his legs were long and his dark brown eyes were narrowed on her. He had a strong, square jaw, neatly trimmed brown hair and a mouth that looked as though it didn’t smile often.
It only took seconds for Erica to get an impression of cool confidence. It took even less than that for her to feel an attraction to him that sent what felt like champagne bubbles shooting through her veins.
When she was sure she could speak without making embarrassing gulping noises, she held out her hand and said, “Mr. Hanford, I’m Erica Prentice.”
He crossed the room, shook her hand and then held on to it for just a bit too long before releasing her. “Thanks for seeing me.”
As if she’d had a choice, she mused. He’d arrived at her office ten minutes ago, unannounced, to claim to have something important to discuss with her. The fact that he hadn’t even hinted at what that might be made her wary even as her hormones continued to do a dance of appreciation.
Erica waved him to one of the two chairs opposite her desk. “I have to admit, I’m intrigued. Why would a lawyer from Colorado come all this way to see me?”
“It’s a long story,” he said, glancing around her office.
She knew what he was seeing and that he was probably singularly unimpressed. The beige walls of the tiny room were mostly bare but for two paintings she’d brought from home to lessen the grim atmosphere. Erica’s office was nearly claustrophobic, as befitting someone just getting started on their career. Of course, she thought, not for the first time, if she’d been offered a job in the family company, things would have been different.
Though her older brothers all ran different arms of the Prentice Group, Erica’s father had made it clear that she wouldn’t be a part of the family business. They’d never been close, she thought, but she’d hoped that she’d be given at least a chance to prove herself, as her brothers had. But her father wasn’t a man you could argue with and once his mind was made up, the decision might as well have been set in concrete.
Still, she thought, dragging her brain away from the problems of family, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about any of that. As tempting as it might be to indulge in a long meeting with a gorgeous lawyer watching her through amazingly dark chocolate eyes, she simply didn’t have time for it today. As it was, she’d only managed to squeeze out a few minutes from her already packed schedule to accommodate Christian Hanford. She couldn’t give him more.
Leaning forward, she folded her hands on her desktop and smiled. “I’m sorry, but your long story will have to wait for another time. I have another appointment in fifteen minutes, Mr. Hanford, so if you wouldn’t mind, could you just tell me what you’re doing here?”
His gaze met hers and held. Erica couldn’t have looked away if she had wanted to.
“I represent the estate of Donald Jarrod,” he said quietly.
“Jarrod.” Erica thought about the name, trying to place it, when suddenly, she made the connection. “Colorado. Jarrod. You mean the Jarrod resort in Aspen, Jarrod?”
He gave her a brief smile and inclined his head. Reach ing down for the briefcase at his feet, he pulled it onto his lap, opened it and took out a legal-size, manila envelope. Sliding it across the desk to her, he said, “Yes, that Donald Jarrod.”
Confused but curious, Erica picked up the envelope and opened it. She pulled out a document and glanced at the title. “His will? Why do I have a copy of the man’s will?”
“Because, Ms. Prentice, you’re one of the beneficiaries.”
She glanced from the document to him and back again. Her stomach did a wild spin and flutter that left her feeling off balance.
“That makes no sense,” she murmured, slipping the will back into the envelope and deliberately flattening the brass clasp. “I’ve never met the man. Why would he leave me anything in his will?”
His features tightened and Erica thought she caught a glimpse of sympathy shining in his eyes before he took the envelope back from her and slid it into his briefcase. “I told you it was going to be a long story.”
“Right.” She watched him close up his black leather case and wished she had the document in her hands again. She’d like the chance to read it herself before they went any further. But apparently, Christian Hanford wanted his say first. Which didn’t do a thing to ease the tension flooding her system.
What was happening here? How had her average, run-of-the-mill day taken such a bizarre turn? And what did a dead empire builder from Colorado have to do with her?
“Then perhaps we can meet later, when you have more time.”
She didn’t want to wait, but didn’t see how she could avoid it.
“Time. Yes. That’s probably a good idea. I’m…” Erica shook her head, met his gaze and said, “I’m sorry. This is just all so confusing. Maybe if you gave me some idea what this was about. Why I was mentioned in his will…”
“I think it’s best to get this done all at once,” he sai
d. “No point in getting into it now when we can’t finish it.”
He stood up and Erica was forced to tip her head back to look up at him. That frisson of attraction was still there, but now there was more. There was a sense that once she met with Christian Hanford and heard the whole story, nothing in her life was ever going to be the same.
She could see the truth in his eyes. He was watching her as if he could read her mind and knew exactly what a tumult her thoughts were in. She read understanding in his eyes and once again thought she caught a flicker of sympathy.
Nerves rattled through her and Erica knew she’d never make it through her whole day now without know ing what was going on. How could she possibly meet with clients and do the myriad other little jobs that required her attention with this mystery hanging over her head?
Nope, an impossible task. On impulse, she stood up and said, “On second thought, I think we should have that talk now. If you could give me a half an hour to clear up a few things, we could meet…”
Where? Not her apartment. She wasn’t inviting a strange man into her home, even if he was a lawyer. Not here in the office. If she was about to get hit with bad news, she’d rather it wasn’t done in front of people she had to work with every day.
As if he were still reading scatter-shot thoughts, Christian offered, “Why don’t we meet for lunch? I’ll come back in an hour and then we’ll talk.”
She nodded. “One hour.”
Once he’d left, Erica took a deep breath in a futile attempt to steady herself. Her stomach was jumping with nerves and her mind was whirling. What in the world was going on? Once again, she was tempted to call her father and ask his advice. But at the same time, she knew he would simply tell her to think it through and make her own decisions. Walter Prentice had never been the kind of man to “mollycoddle” his children. Not even his youngest child and only daughter.
Claiming Her Billion-Dollar Birthright Page 1
