Stopping, Greer rubbed the bridge of her nose. There was a headache threatening to erupt directly behind her eyes.
“Yes, we won, thanks to your mother and her generosity.”
Anna parked herself on the edge of Greer’s desk, studying the other woman intently. In her opinion Greer turned modesty into an art form.
“That’s not the way Hugh tells it. He told Mother that the judge grilled you and you came through with flying colors. He thinks that Rafe is getting himself quite a prize.” Leaning forward, she pressed Greer’s hand in intimate camaraderie. “And he’s right.”
Blushing, embarrassed at the lie she was forced to keep alive, Greer shook her head. “Mr. Blake is being very kind.”
“He’s a kind man,” Anna granted, “but above all a truthful one. That’s why Mother’s kept him on all these years.” That, and she was beginning to suspect, because there was a spark between her mother and the handsome attorney. “I’ve never known Hugh Blake not to tell it exactly as it is.” It was time, Anna decided, to take the bull by the horns and get down to the real reason she’d come here looking for Greer. “Speaking of the way things are, I know you’ve been extremely busy these last few weeks, but you need to take a little time out to plan this wedding of yours.” She could have sworn she saw a flash of panic in Greer’s eyes. But it was gone the next moment. “I don’t even have a date.”
For a second, she considered telling Anna the day Rafe had mentioned, Valentine’s Day. It was hopelessly romantic, but if she said that to Anna, Greer knew the woman would be off and running in a matter of moments. Rafe didn’t need this added complication.
Greer began shuffling papers again, this time hardly seeing what was written on them. She wished Anna would turn her attention to something else. “That’s because we haven’t really pinned one down,” she lied.
Anna’s eyes narrowed slightly as she continued studying Greer’s face. “Don’t you think that maybe you should?”
“Soon,” Greer promised. “Soon. But right now—” she grabbed the nearest folder and opened it “—I need to get back to work.”
To Greer’s surprise, Anna placed her hand against the folder and closed it for her.
“What you need to do is learn how to delegate,” Anna corrected her. She cocked her head, her sharp eyes taking measure of the planes and angles of the slender face before her. “Tell me, have you ever thought of having a makeover?”
Nervous, uncertain, Greer began to feel as if she was under a microscope. She stalled, trying to think. “A what?”
“A makeover,” Anna repeated patiently.
Anna’s mind was already racing ahead. Most of the better salons in Austin were booked well in advance, but the Maitland name could be used to pry loose an appointment, especially if the word emergency was bandied about. And a few well-spent hours at Neiman Marcus with an experienced sales-clerk wouldn’t hurt, either, she decided. Greer dressed far too conservatively.
A makeover. Something they did with women who garnered other women’s pity. Greer pressed her lips together, knowing that Anna hadn’t meant to be hurtful. It wasn’t Anna’s fault she was an ugly duckling that had never managed to be transformed.
“You mean like those beauty things they do on daytime talk shows and women’s magazines?”
“Yes.” Anna placed a comforting hand gently on Greer’s shoulder. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“I’m not knocking it,” Greer protested. “But I really don’t have to try it to know that it would be a waste of time.”
“How so?” Anna crossed her arms before her, humor tugging at her lips. “Do you feel you’ve reached perfection?”
Greer laughed incredulously. The question was ludicrous. The word perfection didn’t belong in the same sentence with her name.
“No. It’s a waste of time because nobody can do anything to make me look any better.”
And that, Greer hoped, was the end of it. She didn’t need to go to some salon and have a man with a ponytail clucking over her as he shook his head and mumbled something like, “Well, at least her skin isn’t a complete disaster.”
“I do believe you’re challenging me, Greer.” Anna’s eyes began to glow brightly. “And I do dearly love a challenge.”
Oh, God, she’d gone and said the wrong thing. This was the last thing she wanted to do, to challenge Anna. Concerned, Greer tried vainly to back-pedal.
“No, really, I didn’t mean to challenge you, it’s just that—” Helpless, she fell back on an old adage she’d heard applied to her more than once. She winced even to repeat it. “You know that saying about a silk purse and a sow’s ear?”
The laughter faded from Anna’s lips. “You’re not going to tell me you think you’re a sow’s ear, are you? Greer, you get out of that chair this minute. The party’s tonight and you and I have work to do.”
Greer tried one more time. “Anna, I appreciate what you think you’re going to do, but I am a plain woman, and when you finish, all you’re going to have is a plain woman in expensive clothing and, likely as not, a silly hairdo. Believe me, I know my limitations—”
Anna was not about to take no for an answer. Once upon a time, someone had obviously done a very bad number on Greer and it apparently had a lasting effect. She wasn’t about to let that go on any longer.
“Then you’re the only one who does. Please, indulge me. You’re a beautiful woman inside, it’s time we did a little maximizing with what’s on the outside, as well.” She wasn’t getting anywhere. Anna fixed Greer with a knowing look. “It’s time you stopped hiding.”
Greer hadn’t a clue what Anna was talking about. “Hiding?”
“Uh-huh. It’s very easy to say you didn’t win the race because you didn’t run. Running takes courage. Risking losing takes courage.”
That made nothing any clearer. “Am I supposed to understand this analogy?”
Anna smiled confidentially as she tucked her hand under Greer’s elbow and coaxed her to her feet. She could call André at the salon from the car.
“It’s enough that I do. Now, I’m the boss’s daughter and the future bridegroom’s sister, so don’t give me any lip,” she managed to say with a straight face before laughing.
Put that way, Greer had no choice but to go along. Besides, she reasoned, with any luck, Anna would tire of the game soon enough and give up.
Chapter 12
A frown creased Megan’s lips as she let the receiver drop back into its cradle. Was she doing the right thing, stalling this way? Would the situation only get more uncomfortable if she did? Maybe it was best to have everything over with and out in the open.
She just wasn’t sure. It was so hard to know if she was making the right decisions. Who said wisdom came with age? The only thing that came with age, she thought, were more questions.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
At the sound of the soothing, familiar voice, her frown faded instantly. Turning from the writing table where the old-fashioned phone was perched, she saw that Harold had shown Hugh into the study. Just seeing Hugh with his strong, distinguished bearing gave her confidence.
She smiled up at him. “What, no adjustment for inflation?”
Hugh crossed to her and took both her hands in his. The quip he was about to say disappeared as he looked in surprise at the woman he had known and respected for so many years.
“Megan, your hands are like ice. What is it?”
“Poor circulation?” she suggested innocently, hoping he wouldn’t probe any further.
His expression told her no such luck. Hugh wasn’t about to be put off. “We’ve been together far too long for you to hide things from me, Megan. Come on, out with it. What’s bothering you?”
She took her time in answering, carefully choosing her words. She knew this was going to be as much of a surprise to Hugh as it had initially been to her. Over the years, Hugh had become far more than just the family lawyer. She had come to rely on him for so many things. Fo
r his humor, for his wisdom and, most important of all, for his never-failing support. Of late, there’d been something more added to all this, a feeling that they might come to mean more to each other, and she didn’t want to jeopardize it before it had a chance to develop.
Megan withdrew her hands from his. “Clyde Mitchum’s turned up.” She watched his face as he absorbed the news and saw disbelief imprint itself on Hugh’s distinguished patrician features.
“What does he want?”
There was more than just a lawyer’s indignation in his eyes. She took a breath before answering. “He wants me to arrange a meeting between him and Connor.”
Hugh caught himself, getting his feelings under control before they could fully surface. He had always prided himself on his poker face. It often came in handy in the courtroom. But it was harder to exercise that ability around a woman he had come to care for so deeply. “Mitchum? Are you sure? I thought he was dead.” Hoped, really, he added silently.
“So did I.”
Megan sighed, feeling suddenly very weary. That had been Clyde on the phone just now. He’d wanted to come to the fund-raiser, knowing that Connor and his wife would be there. She’d told him no in no uncertain terms, but that didn’t alleviate the doubts that refused to be assuaged.
“But ghosts don’t know how to work telephones.” She saw the slight line of concern forming on Hugh’s brow just above the bridge of his nose, saw his jaw tightening as he struggled for the control she knew he was so proud of. “He came to see me a few weeks ago, out of the blue after all these years. He told me that he wanted to make amends, that he was a changed man—”
Alarms went off all through Hugh’s head. “Don’t trust him, Megan.”
A fond smile played on her lips. She would have expected nothing less from Hugh. “Is that the lawyer talking, or the old friend?”
Hugh took her hand in his again, looking into her eyes. Remembering how long he had been waiting for her. And how he would continue to wait, until she was ready. He didn’t want to take a chance on someone from her past ruining everything.
“Both.”
Her smile widened and reached her eyes. “Then I’ll take it under advisement.”
She was her own woman and he cared very deeply for her. To attempt to take things out of her hands would be to insult her and he wouldn’t do that for all the world. That tied his own hands in a way he wasn’t happy about.
He tried to divert their attention to something lighter.
“In the meantime, you have a whole host of guests arriving in your ballroom, their wallets bulging with money they need to get rid of.” His eyes twinkling, he presented his arm to her. “Shall we?” Megan threaded her arm through his and he led her to the doorway. “By the way, did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?”
Megan laughed softly as they entered the hall. “Not yet, but go ahead. I think I’d like to hear it right about now.”
He didn’t disappoint her.
Greer felt nervousness skitter through her.
Anna hadn’t let her go home to change. Instead, she had insisted on sequestering her here inside the mansion to prepare for the fund-raiser. When Greer had protested that there were still a thousand details to see to for that very fund-raiser, Anna had effectively parried her objections and said that everything was being taken care of.
The only thing Anna had allowed her to retrieve from her own apartment were her contact lenses. She’d ordered them in a moment of vanity, gone through the rigors of getting herself accustomed to them and then decided they were too much trouble to bother with in the morning. Anna had made her promise to leave her glasses in the room.
It had seemed like fun earlier, being whisked through Neiman Marcus and ordered not to look at the price tags, only at the styles of the gowns Anna picked out for her to review. There had been an ocean of evening wear to peruse and try on. Anna had been highly complimentary, but extremely choosy when it came to selecting “just the right gown to knock his eyes out.”
Greer surmised the “his” she was referring to was Rafe and had been tempted to tell her not to bother, but part of her had secretly hoped that by some magic, like Cinderella, she could be transformed into a princess just for one night at the ball.
The garment Anna had finally approved, a slinky, floor-length royal blue gown shot through with silver threads, was slit high on one thigh and, while it had a high collar that buttoned at the back of her neck, it boasted practically no back at all.
“One wrong move and it’ll fall off,” Greer had protested, surveying herself in the dressing room’s three-way mirror.
“So don’t make a wrong move,” Anna had countered, and then winked wickedly. “Besides, it really all depends on your definition of wrong.”
Greer thought it best not to ask Anna to explain that.
Shoes and a tiny purse to match had been selected before they’d made their way to an exclusive salon where a thin-faced, slender-hipped man named André had taken her over, body and soul, and vowed to turn her into a goddess. She spent the next two and a half hours being plucked, highlighted and sculpted.
All for this.
Standing in the guest bedroom Anna had commandeered for her, Greer stared nervously into the mirror, amazed at the results and frightened that it still might not be enough.
What if Rafe took one look at her and didn’t like what he saw?
Anna came up behind her, peering over her shoulder and beaming like Pygmalion at the final moment when his creation had life breathed into it. She couldn’t have been more pleased.
“So, what do you think of yourself?”
The person looking back at her did look like a princess, Greer thought. Someone touched by magic. Her eyes met Anna’s in the mirror.
“I don’t know who that is.”
Anna gave her shoulders a light squeeze. “The you that’s been dying to come out, that’s who.” Turning Greer around to face her, she handed her the tiny purse. All it contained inside was a compact and a lipstick. That was all there was room for. “C’mon, let’s knock ’im dead.” It was getting late and the party had been under way for nearly half an hour. “Besides, if I don’t turn up soon, Austin’s going to have the police out looking for me,” she said, referring to her husband.
Greer pressed her lips together, reluctant for the ultimate moment of reckoning.
Impulsively, Anna brushed her lips against Greer’s cheek. “It’ll be all right,” she promised before gently trying to prod Greer out of the room.
Easy for her to say, Greer thought. Anna was naturally lovely. She didn’t need an army of people working for two and a half hours to turn her into someone who was attractive. But because Anna had gone to so much trouble to make her look this way, Greer knew she had to overcome her own fears and do this. She had to walk out into that ballroom.
Squaring her shoulders, she left the shelter of the guest bedroom.
It was getting easier, Rafe noted. Easier to talk to these people he’d come to accept as his extended family. He nodded as he took a glass of white wine from the tray a passing waiter stopped to offer. Maybe it was because he was no longer worried about gaining custody of Bethany, or maybe it was because he’d been made to see that to accept help didn’t mean he was weak. Sometimes you had to be strong enough to admit your weakness.
And maybe it had something to do with the woman who had brought him here and subsequently shown him by example rather than words that sometimes things were not always what they appeared at first to be, nor did events always have to turn out badly.
Sometimes they could be downright pleasant.
Rafe nodded, only half listening as he took a sip of his wine to what his brother was saying to him. He was still slightly in awe of the fact that R.J. was his brother. He would have missed out on that, too, if Greer had taken him at his word, given up and gone back home to Austin.
But she hadn’t. She’d had the guts to take him up on what he knew now had been an insane suggestio
n, agreeing to be his fiancée, agreeing to compromise the principles he’d discovered were so important to her, just to help him and to bring him here.
He owed her a great deal, he mused. And he meant to pay her back the best way he knew how.
If she let him.
Not for the first time this evening, he scanned the floor with a nervousness that was completely out of character for him. Another first.
Where was she? he wondered. He would have thought she’d be here ahead of him, worrying about all the details that went into pulling this fund-raiser off. He knew without being specifically told that her hand was behind this.
Efficient, kind and feisty. A hell of a combination in a woman. That it came wrapped in a somewhat plain package didn’t faze him in the slightest. It might have even pleased him if he’d bother to examine it. He’d been raised in Las Vegas and had had his fill of glitter, flash and obvious beauty. He’d take substance any day.
Substance like the kind found within a woman with the improbable name of Greer.
When he saw Anna walking in with another woman, Rafe decided that he’d been patient long enough. There was something he needed to get off his chest before he lost his nerve and backed down. Someone had mentioned that Anna was the last one to have been with Greer. He figured the woman would know where he could find her.
“Excuse me,” he murmured to R.J., setting down his drink on the nearest surface before heading toward the door. “Anna,” Rafe called out, maneuvering his way through the milling press of elegantly dressed bodies, “have you seen Greer?”
Turning to the sound of his voice, Greer struggled hard not to let the blush that had instantly taken hold consume her.
Breathe, Greer, breathe, she ordered herself.
“Yes, I have.” An amused smile curved Anna’s mouth. “And so have you, little brother.” She made the observation pointedly.
Impatient, Rafe opened his mouth to protest that he wouldn’t be asking her where Greer was if he had, when he saw Anna slanting a sideways glance toward the woman beside her. He was vaguely aware of his jaw dropping down.
The Inheritance Page 15
