Her Secret Rival

by Abby Gaines

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “With your studies, I hope.” Travis held the phone between his shoulder and his ear while he slipped one arm into his jacket. He swapped sides and did the other arm.

  “Whatever,” Gina said.

  That didn’t sound like his normally amenable sister.

  “So, how are you doing?” He checked his reflection. In his tuxedo, he looked as if he’d fit right in at Merritt, Merritt & Finch.

  “Did the folks ask you to check up on me?”

  Man, she sounded as suspicious as Megan.

  “They’re worried about you,” Travis said.

  That was all it took for Gina to explode.

  “This is so frigging pathetic,” she ranted. “All I did was grow up, and Mom and Dad can’t handle it. I’m eighteen years old, and they don’t trust me to make decisions about my life.”

  “What kind of decisions?” Travis asked.

  She ignored him. “Just because they don’t like Scott, they’re so mean about him.”

  “Maybe they need to get to know him better.”

  “They do know him. They think he’s too old for me.”

  “How old is he?” He wrestled with a cuff link.

  “Twenty-four,” she mumbled.

  Travis dropped the cuff link. It rolled beneath his dresser. He cursed as he crouched to get it.

  “It’s not that much older than I am.” Gina misinterpreted the curse.

  “Old enough.” Travis groped under the dresser. His hand was almost too big for the gap. Dammit, how far could a cuff link roll?

  “We love each other,” she said.

  His fingers closed around the cufflink. Carefully, he dragged it out. “That’s nice.” Then he registered her tone. “Why do you say that with such finality?”

  “You’re so suspicious, you’re just like Dad.”

  “How can I take your side with Mom and Dad, if you won’t tell me what’s going on?” He started again with the cuff link. Pushing the round head through the buttonhole wasn’t hard, it was the post that was fiddly.

  “Scott asked me to marry him,” Gina said.

  “What?” He dropped the cuff link again.

  “I’m thinking about saying yes,” Gina said, a fraction less certainty in her voice.

  “Don’t you dare,” Travis ordered. “You’re too young.” Dad would hit the roof if she dropped out of school. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Six-fifteen. Dammit, the party started at six-thirty and he wanted to be there before the masses, so he could reach Jonah before he was surrounded.

  “Scott has a good job. We can afford to get married.”

  “Are you pregnant?”

  “No, I’m not, you jerk.” She added a couple of curse words.

  “Watch your language.” He was too conscious of the time to tell her off properly. “If you’re not pregnant, then there’s no rush. I have to go out now—I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  By the time he hung up, he was so frazzled he’d be lucky to string a sentence together when he met Jonah.

  THE MERRITT, MERRITT & Finch Christmas extravaganza took place in the Grand Lobby of Atlanta’s High Museum of Art.

  The enormous space’s coffered ceiling was nearly twenty feet above its hardwood floors, Travis estimated. Floor-to-ceiling windows gave way to the lights of the surrounding piazza and, farther away, midtown. Reflected in the windows, he saw the glittering crowd of partygoers. Damn. He didn’t get here early enough. The women wore cocktail dresses, while most of the men, like him, had gone for the black-and-white of a tuxedo. At the far end, a string quartet played “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.”

  As hostess, Megan was stationed near the entry. Her low-cut, copper silk dress was fitted below her breasts, then skimmed down her legs to just above the knee. It was classy but very sexy.

  “Travis, good evening.” She stuck out a hand. He ignored it and kissed her cheek.

  “There are a few people here who might be useful to you,” she said.

  “Is your dad here?” He knew a moment of doubt. What if Jonah’s doctor had declared him not well enough to attend?

  “He’s around somewhere,” Megan said. “Look, there’s Sabrina.” She waved to a tall, blonde woman, who came over.

  Megan hugged her. “Sabrina, this is Travis Jamieson, a colleague of mine. Travis, my beautiful baby sister, Sabrina.”

  Sabrina was undeniably beautiful—she wouldn’t have been Miss Georgia otherwise—but Travis far preferred Megan’s understated appeal, the quality that made you take a second look at her and then realize you’d need a whole lot more before you figured out who this woman really was.

  Travis shook Sabrina’s hand. “I understand you’re getting married in the New Year. Congratulations.” Her convoluted relationship with Jake Warrington, now the governor of Georgia, had been front-page news.

  “Thought any more about that prenup?” Megan asked.

  “Yep. I thought it’d burn well on a winter’s night,” Sabrina said.

  Megan groaned. “You are so naive. You need to protect yourself.”

  “Not from Jake, dummy.” Sabrina turned to Travis. “Where do you stand on prenups, Travis?”

  “They’re for losers,” he said.

  “Good man.” Sabrina’s perfect eyebrows lifted as she glanced at her sister. “See, I’m right.”

  Megan shook her head. “I’m right, but since you guys don’t do anything by the book, I guess it’ll turn out okay. Sabrina and Jake have the strangest engagement,” she told Travis. “They lived together when they were pretending to be engaged, but now that they’re really getting married, Sabrina’s living with Dad and Jake’s in the governor’s mansion.”

  “It’s driving him crazy,” Sabrina said with satisfaction. “But he understands—almost—that I need time to find my feet again after being swallowed up by his election campaign. It’s five weeks until the wedding—by then he’ll be putty in my hands.”

  Travis laughed at her evil grin.

  “There’s Cynthia.” Megan pointed to a new arrival, another blonde, this one wearing a black strapless dress.

  Cynthia Merritt was a lower-wattage version of Sabrina, but with diamond-sharp eyes.

  “Glad you’re the one organizing this bash,” she said to Megan as she shook hands with Travis. “This has to be the worst job in the company.”

  “It hasn’t been too bad,” Megan said. “You look pale, are you okay?”

  “Nothing a couple of years’ sleep won’t fix.” Cynthia accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and so did Sabrina. Megan had a club soda. “And I used to think Merritt, Merritt & Finch was stressful—you should try the D.A.’s office.” Cynthia pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Don’t tell Dad I said that. About being stressed.”

  “Of course not,” Megan said. “Still, you should take it easy. As Dad would say, you don’t want to have a heart attack.”

  “Sounds quite restful,” Cynthia replied, and she didn’t seem to be joking. “I’ll go find Dad.”

  Travis watched her progress, hoping she’d give him a visual lead on Jonah.

  “I asked Dad to put some thought into a job for you,” Megan said.

  He whipped around. “You what?”

  “I told him I think you’re good enough to make partner at any of the top firms,” Megan said.

  Guilt surged through him, diluting his desire to tackle Jonah. “Let’s go sit down,” he suggested. He’d missed talking to her.

  “I can’t yet.” She sipped her soda. “I need to talk to the partners, make a good impression.”

  That’s right, her father didn’t think the partners respected her. “How many partners are there?” He knew, of course, but he needed time to process the news that Megan had enrolled in his job hunt.

  “Forty-one,” she said. “But I’m only targeting the top ten.”

  “There’s no Finch these days, right?”

  “There hasn’t been for a decade,” she agreed. “
Dad says some people ask if Atticus Finch ever worked here—I sometimes wonder if that’s why he’s kept the name.”

  Her cell phone rang, and she excused herself. A catering query of some kind. Megan answered a couple of questions. She ended the call and ran a hand over her face.

  “Problem?” Travis asked.

  “A million details that could go wrong.”

  “What happens if a couple of those things do go wrong?”

  “They won’t, I’m on top of it.”

  Across the room, he saw Cynthia talking to Jonah. Jonah had an arm around her shoulder and was smiling as he listened intently to her.

  “Dad and Cynthia are bosom buddies.” Megan had followed his glance.

  Travis heard the tightness in her voice. “Megs, don’t you think this is getting out of hand?”

  “What?” Panic flared in her eyes. She turned in her high heels, looking for problems.

  “This thing with your dad. You’re killing yourself to impress him.”

  “What’s your point?” she asked.

  “Do you think it will make him give you the job?”

  “It might,” she said defensively.

  “And even if he does…you could do everything the way he wants, but do you think he’ll ever talk to you like that?” He jerked his head toward Cynthia and Jonah.

  Megan paled. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

  “Get real, Megs. You’re trying to earn crumbs of love from your father, when he should love you for yourself, because you’re who you are.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I hate to see you hurt.”

  “Then go away,” she ordered, right before she obeyed her own command—she stalked off and left him.

  He was about to go after her when Jonah called his name. While Travis and Megan were arguing, he’d threaded his way through the crowd.

  “Megan said I should ask you why you joined PPA,” he said.

  “What, now?”

  Jonah drew back, chin jutting; dammit, Travis couldn’t offend the man again. He’d talk to Megan later, when she’d had time to calm down.

  “I’d be happy to tell you,” he said to Jonah, and launched into a concise version of the history he’d told Megan.

  It was by anyone’s standards an interesting tale. Jonah paid close attention, and at the end, he nodded. “I admire loyalty,” he murmured. “So, did things work out well financially for you at PPA?”

  Travis told him the growth and profitability figures he personally was responsible for. He didn’t miss the gleam in Jonah’s eyes.

  He was describing the revenue forecasting system he’d developed when he caught sight of Megan, sitting at one of the dozens of small tables, talking to Nick Stanton. He hadn’t even known Stanton was here. To his irritation, the guy was as good-looking as he’d ever been—no thinning hair or potbelly to detract from his charms. Even from here Travis could see he was smitten by Megan.

  “What do you think?” Jonah asked, and Travis realized he hadn’t heard the question.

  Jonah repeated, “What’s your view on the new corporate tax legislation?”

  Travis knew enough about the law to answer while his mind was still occupied by Megan. Hadn’t Nick Stanton gotten engaged, or married? Was the guy even free to date her?

  “I like your style,” Jonah said. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to send me your résumé.” Presumably that meant he’d thrown away the one Travis sent weeks ago.

  “Is this about the managing partner position?” Travis asked bluntly.

  “It’s the only job open,” Jonah said. “You’ll have some hard work to convince me you’re the man for it.”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work.” Dammit, Stanton was so close to Megan it could only be called an invasion of her personal space. So why wasn’t she bawling him out the way she had Travis in the past?

  “I’ll send it over,” Travis said, still distracted.

  The friendliness of Jonah’s handshake—he put his left hand over their clasped right hands as they shook—was unmistakable. Travis was in the running for the managing partner position at Merritt, Merritt & Finch.

  He glanced at Megan again, at the smile she was flashing at Stanton. She wouldn’t be smiling if she knew she’d paved the way for Travis to come in and steal the job she considered rightfully hers.

  And that Travis would willingly steal it out from under her nose.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MEGAN HAD ACCEPTED Nick Stanton’s offer of an escort to the buffet that was a highlight of the Christmas party, and not just because it would please her father. She would prove that she was not, as Travis had suggested, hanging around waiting for love. It made her sound pathetic. Nick Stanton was every bit the decent guy Megan’s father had suggested. Polite, intelligent, with a good sense of humor. And clearly attracted to Megan. Why wouldn’t she spend time with him?

  “I’m so glad your dad suggested we meet,” Nick said across their laden plates, almost too big for the small tables set up around the Grand Lobby.

  “Me too.” Megan sampled the turkey and cranberry roulade. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

  “Megan.” Her father tapped her on the shoulder, smiling at Nick, then leaned in to add, “I need a word.”

  “Sure.” She introduced him to Nick and the two shook hands. Jonah gave Nick a look, and the younger man took the hint. “How about I grab us a drink?” he offered.

  “A chardonnay, thanks,” she said.

  Nick headed toward the bar.

  “Didn’t I tell you he was a nice guy?” Jonah asked.

  “You were right.”

  “So were you,” he said unexpectedly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I had a call from Theo Hoskins this morning.”

  Megan’s heart leaped into her mouth. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not at all.” Her father paused. “Since I’m still nominal head of the commercial division of Merritt, Merritt & Finch, Theo thought I was the right person to approach about giving us some of his business.”

  “Dad, wow, that’s fantastic.” Megan clutched the arms of her chair before she did something undignified, like dance around the room. Of course, Travis wouldn’t think it undignified. He’d probably encourage her.

  “It’s a tribute to you, Megan. I admit I thought it was a long shot.”

  She couldn’t contain an exultant laugh. “You know what I’m going to say now, don’t you, Dad.”

  “I do,” he said drily. “And the answer’s yes.”

  She gaped. “Yes…you’ll consider me to take over the firm?”

  He nodded. “You’re on the short list. Which seems to be getting longer by the minute,” he muttered obscurely.

  “Dad, thank you.” She got up to kiss him.

  He gave her one of the hugs that Sabrina got all the time, but which Megan suspected were more precious to her because of their rarity. “There’s more news,” he said.

  He sounded sober; Megan sat back and scanned his face. “Are you okay?” His complexion was a little gray.

  “Not as okay as I should be.” Jonah sounded annoyed with himself. “I had an appointment with my cardiologist yesterday, and he’s not happy with my progress.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. “Are you going to have another heart attack?”

  “Not if I can help it. But I do need to clear my mind of all worries, and that means letting go of Merritt, Merritt & Finch sooner than I’d planned.” He pushed himself out of the chair with a grunt. “I want to announce the new managing partner before Christmas.”

  Barely three weeks away. Megan swallowed. That didn’t leave her much time to convince her father.

  Reading her mind, he said, “You’ll have a formal interview for the position, just like the other candidates. But you’re at the bottom of the list, my dear, I should warn you.”

  Momentarily, that news dampened her excitement. Then she said, “I wasn’t even on the list five minutes ago. I can work my w
ay up, you’ll see.”

  Despite her concern about her father’s heart, when Nick returned, she was still on a high. Conversation flowed easily. He appeared to be enjoying himself, too, the way he kept catching and holding her hand.

  Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the display: unknown caller. “I’d better take this,” she told Nick. “I need to keep in touch with the caterers.”

  “Go ahead.” He squeezed her hand across the table, and his blue eyes crinkled sympathetically. What a great guy.

  Megan answered the phone.

  “Sit back. Stanton can see right down the front of your dress.”

  Her head jerked around to locate Travis. “He can not,” she said automatically.

  He was sitting on one of the high, black leather stools at the bar, swiveled to face her. If she could have murdered him with a look, she was certain any judge in the land would agree it was justifiable homicide.

  He made the slightest gesture with his beer bottle, raising it in a toast, and said calmly, “The man’s eyes are out on stalks. Unless you want him to get an eyeful of your best assets, you’d better sit back.”

  Megan struggled for self-possession. “These are not my best assets,” she said icily. She flicked a glance at Nick, who hastily lifted his gaze from her cleavage.

  “Now you’ve got me interested.” Travis’s voice changed to a purr. “Would you care to enlighten me as to which you consider the best?”

  “My mind, of course.” Was she insane, letting him provoke her into this discussion?

  Travis chuckled. “Ah yes, and a very fine mind it is, too. But for sheer visual appeal, I’m afraid it loses out to your—”

  Megan switched off the phone.

  “I assume that wasn’t a catering problem?” Nick asked.

  “No. A colleague. A particularly irritating colleague.” She forced a smile as she picked up her fork. “Now, where were we?”

  Two minutes later, she decided she could excuse herself to go to the bathroom without arousing Nick’s suspicions. That meant passing the bar.

  “Stop it,” she hissed as she neared Travis. “I don’t know what you’re up to, criticizing my father, and now interfering between me and Nick.”

  “This has nothing to do with your father.” His expression was hard. “Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be flirting with someone else, when you and I only broke up on Monday?”