I am prepared to make a substantial offer for Winter’s Haven, and would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience to present you with my plans for a resort development on the properties.
My contact information follows. I look forward to hearing from you.
Cordially yours,
Casson Forrester
Justine tossed the papers on the coffee table. The ice that had filled her veins as she read every word of Casson’s letter was now changing to a flow of red-hot lava. She could still feel the burning in her cheeks, the roiling in her stomach. Her breaths were shallow and her chest was heaving, her lungs heavy with Casson’s deceit.
How could he?
Why hadn’t he shown it to her before? Or even mailed it instead of playing games with her? Instead of manipulating his way into Winter’s Haven after weaseling a deal with the Russells...
The Russells sold willingly.
Justine put her hands over her ears in an attempt to block that inner voice. Okay, so Casson had been proactive, jumping on an opportunity. The Russells had come over to her office to say their goodbyes, and had expressed their excitement at moving south to be with their daughter. Casson had made a decision that they had been waffling over very easy. His timing—and his offer—couldn’t have been better, they’d said.
But keeping the deed a secret from her was despicable.
So what exactly did she plan to do about this? Justine tried to digest the fact that Casson had a claim on part of Winter’s Haven. No wonder he was always so relaxed, even when she appeared unexpectedly at his door. It was as if he owned the place already...
Had she known this right from the beginning she wouldn’t have ended up in his bed—that much she knew. Her stomach tightened as if she had been pummeled. Hot tears slid onto her cheeks and she bit her lip.
Casson had used her—manipulating her to get her under his control, working to soften her up so she would sell...
Her fists clenched. Robert had controlled her in one way—slowly building up their relationship while his marriage withered, and then dropping her when she no longer served his purpose. Justine had vowed never to let another man control her. And yet here she was, caught in the web that Casson had woven so meticulously. She had allowed herself to be manipulated yet again.
She could kick herself for being such a fool. How could she have let her guard down?
And how could she face Casson? He must be gloating inwardly. And what would he be expecting of her now? To give in and turn over the property, seeing how she’d so readily turned herself over to him?
Not a chance in hell.
Wiping the tears from her face, Justine stared blindly out the window. She took no pleasure from the view, her stomach twisting at memories of her and Casson in the bay. And of how thoroughly he had seduced her after her nightmare...
He had been just as bad, if not worse than Robert.
Holding her hand over her mouth, Justine fled to the washroom.
* * *
When Casson arrived at his house in Huntsville he wasted no time in gathering what he needed for opening night: suit, shirt, cufflinks, tie and shoes. He had already taken the A. J. Casson painting from his collection to the Stockey Centre when he had taken possession of the Russell properties.
He was anxious to get back to the cottage in time to look over his opening speech and have a few hours to himself before heading to the center. Well, not really to himself. He smiled. He wanted to see Justine. Invite her properly to the exhibition opening and the banquet.
He had goofed by not mentioning the banquet in his letter, but he hoped she would understand and accept. A surge of excitement shot through his body. He was already feeling high because his dream of a resort for children with cancer was about to kick off, and if Justine accompanied him to the opening event he’d be over the moon.
Casson pulled into a gas station and called the office at Winter’s Haven. With any luck Justine would answer, and he’d ask her to meet him at his cottage...
“Hi, Mandy.” He tried not to let his disappointment show in his voice. “Would Justine be in the office?”
There was silence, and Casson wondered if there was a problem with the connection.
“Oh...hi, Casson. She...she was in here earlier, but she went back home.”
Casson frowned. Mandy’s voice wasn’t as cheery as usual. “Would you mind giving her a message? I’m on my way back and should be there in half an hour. I’d appreciate it if she could meet me at my cottage when she gets a chance...”
Another pause. Then, “Will do.”
“Thanks.” Casson turned off his phone.
He shrugged. Mandy must be having a bad day. Oh, well, in a very short time his day would be getting even better.
With a roar of his engine, he headed toward Parry Sound.
* * *
Justine bit her lip and tried not to cry as Mandy put the phone down. She had already spent an hour crying at home, before splashing cold water on her face and going to the office. She had said nothing to Mandy about spending the night with Casson; she felt too humiliated. The only thing she had shared was the information in Casson’s letter about the property.
When Casson had called she had waved her arms frantically, so that Mandy wouldn’t reveal that she was in the office. Now Mandy was looking at her worriedly.
“Justine, maybe you should go and meet him. He might have come up with a solution...”
Justine gave a bitter laugh. “If I didn’t trust him before, I trust him even less now.”
“But he said in the letter he wanted to discuss options. Just hear him out. At the very least you can tell him how you feel. I can understand that you’re royally ticked off, Justine. But nothing will be resolved without talking to him.”
Justine pursed her lips. Maybe she did need to tell Casson how she felt. She took a deep breath. Yes, she decided, she would be meeting him at his cottage.
Prepared and ready to do battle.
* * *
Casson had let Luna out and was giving her a snack inside when he heard the sharp rap at the door. His heart did a flip when he saw it was Justine, but his smile froze on his way to get the door. There was no returning smile from her. In fact her eyes were puffy and red, her expression cold. She held her arms stiffly behind her back.
He opened the door. “Justine? Has something happened? What’s wrong?”
Justine smirked. “Really?” She held up the envelope she had taken with her. “This is what’s wrong.” Her hand trembled. “You deliberately led me on in your scheme to get me to sell Winter’s Haven, knowing the whole time that you already owned part of it.” She clenched her jaw. “You could have given me the letter—or mailed it to me—before.”
Casson glanced at the envelope and then back at her, temporarily stunned. “How...?”
He didn’t need to finish.
He had left it on the desk.
“Look, Justine—”
“No, you look. What you did was despicable. You and Robert can shake hands. At least he was drunk and not in his right mind. But you knew what you were doing. You knew.”
Casson’s heart twisted.
How could he convince her she had it wrong?
“Justine, I swear I didn’t plan it to work out this way—”
“You can’t deny you had a plan.” Her narrowed eyes shot ice daggers at him.
“Yes, I had a plan—but not the one you think. I planned to come to Winter’s Haven, meet you in person, and try to sell you my idea for a resort. I found out about the deed after making arrangements to stay at this cottage. I was waiting for the right time to tell you about it.”
Justine cringed. “And when was that? After getting me to sleep with you?”
A fist in the gut would have been easier to take than the disgust in her voice.
/> “Justine, I did not sleep with you because I had an ulterior motive. It was not in my ‘plan.’ What happened between us was not premeditated. I’m not that kind of a guy.”
She opened her mouth as if she were ready to fire back a retort, then closed it.
“I never tried to take advantage of you, Justine. My feelings are genuine.” He sighed. “But I know now that I should have told you about the deed right from the start.”
Justine crossed her arms, her expression grim. “So what exactly are you prepared to do about it?”
“I’m prepared to have a discussion with you about options—”
“What options?” Justine said hotly. “I will need to consult a lawyer as to how the deed can be adjusted and...and...” Her jaw clenched, as if she’d realized it wasn’t going to be a simple matter to rectify. Especially with part of a structure—her home—on his property. “I need to call my parents,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air and staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe they’ll know what to do.”
Something shifted inside of Casson when he heard the hint of despair in her voice.
He didn’t want to hurt her; he had never wanted to hurt her.
For the first time he realized how vulnerable she felt when it came to Winter’s Haven.
“Look, Justine,” he said softly, hoping to reassure her, “I’m not taking or claiming even a corner of your house or your land. Right now, I think the only option is to leave things the way they are.” He leaned closer, forcing her to meet his gaze. “When we can come up with a satisfying solution for the both of us, then we’ll do something about it. And update the deed.”
“The only satisfying solution for you is to get me to sell you the business.” Justine’s voice was tinged with bitterness.
“There could be other solutions...and they may come to light before my holiday here comes to an end.”
“And what if they don’t?” Justine’s voice held a challenge.
“We’ll figure something out,” Casson insisted. “Even if it means locking ourselves in a room together until we do.”
Justine shot him a you’re out of your mind look before handing him the envelope. “I’ve made a copy of everything to give to my lawyer,” she said curtly. “And I’ve left another copy in the office with Mandy.”
She turned to leave.
“Justine.” He waited until she’d turned around. “I know you’re still upset, and you have every right to be, but I meant every word I said. I’m really sorry I hurt you.” His voice wavered. “You might think I’m crazy to even ask...but I’d really like you to come to the exhibition tonight.”
Justine’s jaw dropped and her eyes narrowed into two beams of fury. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
She walked stiffly out the door, letting it slam shut behind her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IN THE OFFICE, after giving Mandy a condensed version of the meeting she had had with Casson, Mandy asked if Justine would be going to the opening of the art show. Justine became flustered, and Mandy gave her a comforting hug.
“Just go,” she urged. “Give the guy a chance. Let him talk to you when the shock has worn off...”
Back at home, Justine debated for two hours over whether or not she should go. She was still angry and hurt, not to mention bewildered as to what purpose Casson had in asking her to attend the opening.
She wanted to punish him by not accepting, but a tiny voice inside her told her she’d just be punishing herself. She remembered how happy she had been when Casson had suggested she go in his note... Besides, she was not going with him; she could stay as little or as long as she wanted. And she had to admit she was curious...
So she’d brace her broken heart and show Casson that she hadn’t come undone as a result of his deception—that she was strong and capable of standing up to him. That she wasn’t under his control.
Her mind was too clouded now to think of a solution to the deed issue, but she would contact her parents’ lawyer in the morning and book an appointment as soon as possible. There had to be a way of voiding Casson’s claim to Winter’s Haven.
With a defiant toss of her head Justine went upstairs to look through her closet. The warrior in her was not defeated, she realized, her jaw clenching. She would go to Casson’s event.
Dressed to kill.
* * *
Justine decided on a sleeveless black dress with a diagonal neckline, accented with filigree silver buttons. After styling her dark hair in soft flowing curls, she put on the dress. It hugged her curves and stopped above her knees. She chose a pair of silver dangling earrings with diamonds and sapphires—her parents’ graduation gift. And finally she picked out a black shawl that shimmered with silver threads.
She was pleased when she saw her reflection, liking the way the sapphire stones matched her eyes.
She applied the barest amount of make-up—some delicate touches of blue and silver-gray eyeshadow, and a frosty pink lipstick. Blush wasn’t necessary; her cheeks were already flushed.
She stepped into black pumps with silver stiletto heels and, grabbing her silver clutch purse, walked gingerly out to her car.
When Justine arrived at the parking lot of the Stockey Centre many spots were already filled. As she circled around her heart skipped a beat at the sight of a gleaming red car in a far corner.
Casson’s Ferrari.
She sat for a moment after turning off the ignition, her hands gripping the wheel.
Did she really want to do this?
People were streaming into the building, being welcomed by a smiling doorman. Women with elegant dresses and glittering shawls, and bling that sparkled in the late-afternoon sun. Men sporting expensive suits and ties, their shoes gleaming.
Justine took a deep breath and climbed out of her car.
The huge foyer was buzzing with chatter. Justine had only taken a few steps when the people in front of her moved on to join their friends. It was then that Justine caught sight of the words Franklin & Casson on the Bay at the top of a huge banner stand. Her gaze dropped to the life-size image of two boys, grinning and holding up a fishing pole with their catch.
And then she froze when she realized that she was eye to eye with Casson. Not Casson the man, but Casson the boy. Her pulse quickened and her eyes flew to the boy next to him, with his two front teeth missing. Franklin. Her eyes began to well up. Squeezing them to clear her vision, she stared at the little boy who had passed away a year after this photo was taken.
Justine gulped. She had come to see paintings by Franklin Carmichael and A. J. Casson. The last thing she had expected to see was a huge image of Casson with his brother. It was heartbreaking. But why had Casson done it? She knew the connection between the brothers and the artists, but she’d had no idea that Casson would reveal something so personal to the public.
“Mr. Forrester couldn’t have picked a better photo for this exhibition.”
A guide with the name ‘Charlotte’ on her tag stood next to Justine. “The brothers on Georgian Bay. And what a beautiful tribute to Franklin—to plan a resort in his name.”
“Resort?” Justine said, dazed.
“Yes. You must have heard about it in the news? Franklin’s Resort. Mr. Forrester has purchased property in the area and is planning a luxury resort for children with cancer and their families to enjoy for a week after their final chemotherapy and radiation treatments. There will be no charge for them—which is why he is seeking support to augment his very generous contribution and to help keep the project viable.”
She pointed to the registration table.
“There’s a donation box on the table, and in the adjoining room Mr. Forrester has unveiled an A. J. Casson painting from his own private collection to be auctioned off tonight.” She smiled at Justine. “Please sign your name in the guest book—and if you would like to receive i
nformation about future fund-raising events for the resort, please include your email address.”
“Thank you,” Justine managed to reply.
She glanced again at the faces of the brothers and thought of Andy. Feeling her eyes prickling, she quickly signed the guest book, put a few bills in the donation box and then, stifling a sob, turned away and started making her way through the throng to find the washroom, where she could get control of her emotions in private.
Halfway there, the tears started spilling out of her eyes. And then she bumped hard into someone and almost lost her balance, teetering on her stiletto heels.
“Justine.”
Two arms came out to stop her from falling.
“I’m so glad you could come.”
She recognized the deep voice even before looking up at tiger eyes.
Trembling, she fell against his chest and looked up at him with blurred eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
* * *
“It’s complicated,” Casson murmured in Justine’s ear while helping her regain her balance. “I know where there’s a quiet place to talk. Please,” he added, seeing her hesitate. “We need to talk.”
“Mr. Forrester!” a voice called. “May we have a moment of your time?”
Casson turned and recognized a reporter from the local paper, striding toward him. Jake Ross. Beside him was the paper’s photographer—Ken—who had already taken some photos of him next to the banner stand.
Casson smiled and nodded, before turning to Justine to tell her she didn’t have to leave while they interviewed him. But she had already walked away and the crowd had closed in around her.
Damn!
Hiding his frustration, he checked his watch and led Jake and Ken to a quieter corner. He’d try his best to hurry things along. He wanted to clear things up with Justine before the banquet and auction.
While Jake interviewed him, asking all the questions Casson had expected to be asked, Casson kept glancing toward the crowd. He couldn’t see Justine at first, and then a small group shifted to gather around a series of Casson paintings in order to hear the gallery owner’s description of the pieces and he glimpsed her there, her lustrous hair framing her beautiful face.
Swept Away by the Enigmatic Tycoon Page 15
