Kitabı oku: «Not Strictly Business!: Prodigal Son / The Boss and Miss Baxter / The Baby Deal»

Not Strictly

Business!

SUSAN MALLERY

WENDY WARREN

VICTORIA PADE

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PRODIGAL SON

SUSAN MALLERY

About the Author

SUSAN MALLERY is the bestselling and award-winning author of over fifty books.

Chapter One

Samantha Edwards had never minded the interview process, even when she was the one looking for a job. But having seen her prospective boss naked made things just a little tricky.

The good news was Jack Hanson was unlikely to bring up that single night they’d shared. Not only wasn’t it relevant to her employment application, it had been nearly ten years ago. She doubted he remembered anything about the event.

Well, not just the one event. Her recollection was completely clear. There had been three “events” that night, each of them more spectacular than the one before.

“Ms. Edwards? Mr. Hanson will see you now.”

Samantha looked up at the sixty-something secretary behind the modern metal-and-glass desk in the foyer in front of Jack’s office.

“Thank you,” Samantha said as she rose and moved toward the closed door.

She paused to tug on her cropped jacket. Her clothing choices had been deliberately conservative—for her, at least. Flowing black slacks, a cream-and-black checked jacket over a cream silk shirt. It killed her to avoid color, but ten years ago Jack Hanson had been the poster boy for straitlaced conservative types. She was willing to guess that hadn’t changed.

Except he hadn’t been the least bit conservative in bed.

The wayward thought popped into her head just as she pushed open the door to his office. She did her best to ignore it as she drew in a deep breath, reminded herself how much she wanted this job and walked confidently toward the man standing behind his desk.

“Hello, Jack,” she said, shaking hands with him. “It’s been a long time.”

“Samantha. Good to see you.”

He studied her with a thoroughness that made her breath catch. How much of his steady perusal was about sizing up the candidate and how much was about their past?

She decided two could play at that game and did a little looking of her own.

He was taller than she’d remembered and he still seemed to exude power and confidence. She wanted to say that was a natural attribute for someone born to money, but she had a feeling Jack would have been a winner regardless of his upbringing. He was simply that kind of man.

Time had been kind, but then time had always preferred men to women, she thought humorously. Jack’s face showed character in addition to chiseled features. She wondered if life ever got boring for the physically perfect. While he had to deal with things like broad shoulders and a smile that would have most of the female population lining up to be seduced, she had unruly red hair that defied taming, a stick-straight body, small breasts and a butt that could only be described as bony. Was that fair?

“Please,” he said, motioning to one of the chairs. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

He did the same, claiming his side of the desk. He looked good there—in charge and powerful. But she happened to know he was new to the job.

“I read about your father’s death a couple of months ago,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” He motioned to the office. “That’s why I’m working here. The board asked me to step in and take care of the company for a while.”

“I’d wondered,” she admitted. “Last I’d heard, you were practicing law.”

“It would be my preference,” he told her.

“But you did so well at business school.” She would know—they’d been competing for the top spot, often by working together. He’d been the detail-intensive, organized half and she’d been the creative member of the team.

“Hated every minute of it,” he said. “I realized I preferred the law.”

Jack thought about the day he’d told his father he wasn’t entering the family business. George Hanson hadn’t been able to comprehend that his oldest son wasn’t interested in learning how to run a multimillion-dollar company. The older man had been disappointed and furious. It had been the only time Jack hadn’t done what was expected of him.

Ironically, today he was exactly where his father had wanted him to be.

But not for long, he reminded himself.

“I guess your father’s death changed your plans,” Samantha said.

He nodded. “I’m on a three-month leave of absence from my law firm. Until then Hanson Media Group gets my full attention.”

“Are you sure you want the Donald Trump act to be temporary?”

“I’m not the tycoon type.”

She smiled. “I would say you have potential. Word on the street is you’re bringing in a lot of new people.”

“That’s true. My father hated to hand over control of anything. He was still the head of at least three departments. With a company this big, no one has the time or energy to run them and the rest of the business. I’m looking for the best people possible to join the team.”

“I’m flattered.”

“It’s the truth. You’re only here because you’re good. I need creative types. It’s not my strong suit.”

She smiled. “A man who can admit his weaknesses. How unusual.”

“Samantha, the only reason I passed marketing was because I was on your team. You carried me through the whole class.”

“You tutored me through cost accounting. We’re even.”

She shifted slightly as she spoke, causing her slacks to briefly hug her slender thighs. The other candidates had been highly skilled with incredible résumés, but unlike Samantha, they’d come in dressed in business suits, looking equally comfortable in a board room or law office.

Not Samantha. Despite the conservative colors, she was anything but ordinary. Maybe it was the bright green parrot pin on her lapel or the dangling earrings that hung nearly to her shoulders. Or maybe it was that her long, fiery red hair seemed to have a will and a life of its own.

She was not a conservative businessperson. She was avant-garde and wildly creative. There was an independence about her he admired.

“You left New York,” he said. “Why?”

“I wanted to make a change. I’d been working there since graduation.”

He studied her as she spoke, looking for nuances. There were plenty, but none of them worried him. Per his research, she was coming off a divorce. Her previous employer had done his best to keep her from leaving.

“You have to know this is a dream job,” she said. “You’re offering complete creative control of Internet development, with more than a million-dollar budget. How could anyone resist that? It’s my idea of heaven.”

“Good. It’s my idea of hell.”

She smiled. Her full mouth curved and he felt himself responding. Subtle tension filled his body.

“You always did hate a blank page,” she said, her smile widening to a grin.

“You always did hate rules,” he told her.

“Me?” She raised her eyebrows. “You were happy enough to break them when it suited your purpose.”

He shrugged. “Whatever it takes to get what I want. What I want now is a great staff and the company running smoothly. Let’s get down to specifics.”

He passed her information on several current Internet campaigns. After she’d flipped through the material, they discussed possible directions for growth.

Samantha became more animated as the conversation progressed. “Children,” she told him. “There’s so much we could do for kids. After-school programs on the Web. Not just the usual help with homework, but interactive programs linking kids all over the country.”

As she spoke, she leaned toward him, gesturing with her hands to make her point. “We can also cosponsor events with popular movies or TV shows.”

“Cross-advertising,” he said.

“Yes. The potential is huge. And that’s just younger kids. I have even more ideas for teens.”

“They’re the ones with the disposable income and the time to spend it,” he said. When she raised her eyebrows in surprise, he added, “I’ve been doing my research.”

“Apparently. It’s true. With more single-parent families and more families with both parents working, teens are often a real source of information on what items to purchase. They actually influence adults’ decisions on everything from breakfast cereal to cars. Plus they’re computer savvy, which means they’re comfortable downloading information. To them, the Internet is as much a part of their lives as phones were for us.”

“So you’re interested in the job,” he said.

“I distinctly recall the word heaven coming up in the conversation. I wasn’t kidding. I’d love the chance to grow this part of the company.”

Her excitement was tangible energy in the office. He liked that. She’d always thrown herself into whatever it was she was doing and he doubted that had changed.

He’d been surprised to see her name on the short list of candidates, but pleasantly so. He and Samantha had worked well together at grad school. They’d been a good team. Just as important, she was someone he could trust.

“The job is yours, if you want it,” he told her. “The formal offer would come from my human-resources person in the morning.”

Her green eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Why are you shocked? You’re talented, qualified and someone I’m comfortable working with.”

“You make me sound like a rescue dog.”

He grinned. “If I could find one that could work a computer …”

She laughed. “Okay, yes. I’m interested. But I have to warn you, I’m very much the creative type. I’ll want control of my staff.”

“Agreed.”

“We’re not going to be wearing three-piece suits.”

“I don’t care if you wear frog costumes, as long as you do the job.”

She didn’t look convinced. “This isn’t like the law, Jack. You can’t always find an answer in a book.”

“Can I get disapproving and difficult before you give me the lecture?” he asked, mildly amused by her concern. “I get it—creative people are different. Not a problem.”

“Okay. Point taken.”

She rose. He stood as well. In heels she was only a couple of inches shorter than him. He walked around the table and held out his hand.

“Leave your number with Mrs. Wycliff. You’ll be hearing from my HR office first thing in the morning.”

She placed her palm against his. As he had when they’d touched a few minutes ago, he felt a slight sizzle, followed by a definite sensation of warmth somewhere south of his belt.

Ten years after the fact and Samantha Edwards still had the ability to drop him to his knees. Sexually speaking. Not that he would act on the information or let her know how she got to him. They were going to work together, nothing more.

He released her hand and walked her to the door. “How soon can you start?” he asked.

“The first part of next week,” she said.

“Good. I hold a staff meeting every Tuesday morning. I look forward to seeing you there.”

She hesitated before opening the door. “I’m excited about this opportunity, Jack. I want to make a difference.”

“I’m sure you will.”

She looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure you’d consider me. Because of our past.”

He pretended not to know what she was talking about. He wanted to make her say it. “Why would knowing you in business school make a difference?”

“Not that.”

He waited.

Color flared on her cheeks, but she continued to hold his gaze. “Because of what happened that night. When we …” She cleared her throat. “You know. Were intimate.”

“Water under the bridge,” he said easily, mostly because it was true. He’d never been one to dwell on the past. Not even on a night that had made him believe in miracles. Probably because in the bright light of day, he’d learned that dreams were for fools and miracles didn’t really happen.

Promptly at four in the afternoon, Mrs. Wycliff knocked on Jack’s office door.

“Come in,” he said as he saved the work on his computer, then looked up at his father’s former assistant.

“Here are the daily reports,” she said, placing several folders on his desk.

“Thank you.”

He frowned as he looked at the thick stack that would make up his evening reading. In theory, he knew plenty about running a company. He had the MBA to prove it. But theory and reality often had little in common and this was one of those times. If one of the employees was accused of homicide—that he could handle. Right now, a charge of first-degree murder seemed simple when compared with the day-to-day ups and downs of a publicly traded corporation.

“How is the staff holding up?” he asked the older woman. Although he was confident Mrs. Wycliff hadn’t been born into her position, he couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t worked for his father.

She clutched the back of the chair and shook her head in refusal when he invited her to take a seat.

“They miss him, of course. Your father was well liked in the company. Of course he would be. He was a good man.”

Jack was careful to keep his expression neutral. George Hanson had been a man of business. He had lived and breathed his company, while his children had grown up on the fringes of his life. That wasn’t Jack’s definition of good.

“Several people have stopped by to tell me how much they miss him,” Jack told her. It happened at least once a day and he never knew what to say in return.

She smiled. “We all appreciate you stepping in to run things. Hanson Media Group has been home to a lot of us for a long time. We’d hate to see anything happen to the company.”

“Happen?” He’d only been on board a couple of weeks. From what he’d been able to find out, the only problems seemed to be his father’s need to micromanage departments. Once Jack got the right people in place, he figured the firm would run smoothly.

Mrs. Wycliff smoothed her already perfect gray hair and absently fingered the bun at the back of her neck. “Your father was very proud of you. Did you know that?”

Jack wasn’t fooled by the obvious change in subject, but he figured he would do a little digging on his own before he grilled his assistant for information.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said.

She smiled. “He often talked about how well you were doing at your law firm. Of course he’d wanted you to come to work for the family business, but if the law made you happy, he was happy, too.”

Jack tried to reconcile that description with the angry conversations he’d frequently shared with his father. George Hanson had tried everything from bribes to threatening to cut Jack out of the will if he didn’t come work for the company.

He’d long suspected his father had shown one side of his personality to the world and kept the other side more private.

“We had a deal,” he said. “After law school, I got my MBA. Then I decided which I liked better.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t much of a choice.”

“You followed your heart and your talents,” Mrs. Wycliff told him. “That’s what your father always said.” She smiled. “He brought in champagne the day you made partner.”

“Junior partner,” Jack corrected absently. Champagne? When he couldn’t get hold of his father, he’d left a message with Helen, his stepmother, telling her about the promotion. She’d sent a card and a stylish new briefcase as a gift. Ever polite, Helen had signed both their names, but Jack had known it was all really from her. His father had never bothered to call him back.

“He was a good man,” Mrs. Wycliff said. “Whatever happens, you have to remember that.”

“That’s the second time you’ve been cryptic,” he told her. “Want to tell me why?”

She had dark blue eyes and the kind of bone structure that spoke of great beauty in her youth. If she had been a different kind of woman, he would have suspected something between her and his father. But while George might have been interested, Jack was confident Mrs. Wycliff herself would not have approved.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice low.

“Can’t or won’t?”

She clutched the back of the chair more firmly and met his direct gaze. “I don’t know anything. If I did, I would tell you. You have my complete loyalty.”

“But there’s something?”

She hesitated. “A feeling. I’m sorry. I can’t be more specific. There’s nothing more to say.”

He’d known the woman all of two weeks, yet he would have bet she wasn’t lying. She didn’t know. Or she was a damn fine actress.

Feelings. As a rule, he didn’t trust emotion, but gut responses were different. He’d changed his line of questioning during a trial more than once based on a feeling and each time he’d been right.

“If you learn anything,” he began.

“I’ll tell you. I’ve been talking to people. Listening.” She swallowed. “I lost my husband a few years ago. We never had children and a lot of our friends have retired and moved south. This company is all I have. I’ll do anything to protect it.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded and left.

Mysteries he didn’t want or need. As for Mrs. Wycliff, while he appreciated her concern and her willingness to provide him with information, who was to say if they had similar goals? She wanted Hanson Media Group to go on forever, he wanted out. If those two objectives came into conflict, he had a feeling his once-loyal secretary would become a bitter enemy.

With employment came paperwork, Samantha thought two days later as she sat in an empty office and filled out her formal job application, along with pages for insurance, a security pass, a parking space and emergency contact information.

She worked quickly, still unable to believe she’d landed her dream job with little or no effort on her part. She’d been so excited to get going, she’d come in before her start date to do the paperwork.

“Thank you, Helen,” she murmured, knowing her friend had somehow managed to get her name on the short list of candidates. She’d wanted to mention that to Jack during their interview, but on Helen’s advice had kept quiet. For reasons that made no sense to Samantha, Jack, along with his siblings, thought Helen was little more than a trophy wife.

Hope I’m around when they all discover that there’s a very functioning brain behind those big eyes, Samantha thought.

She signed the application and moved on to the next piece of paper.

“Morning.”

She looked up and saw Jack in the doorway to the small office. He looked tall, sexy and just-out-of-the-shower tempting. What was it about a freshly shaved man that got her body to pay attention?

“Hi,” she said.

“I heard you were here taking care of details.” He leaned against the door frame. “Thanks for accepting the job.”

“I’m the grateful one,” she said with a laugh. “I can’t wait to get started. But first there’s all this to work through.” She patted the papers. “I’ve been promised that if I do everything correctly, I get my own ID badge at the end of the day. And the key to my office.”

“I heard that rumor, too. My intrepid assistant informed me we already have a meeting scheduled.”

“Monday afternoon,” she said. “I’ll be working all weekend, bringing myself up to speed. I’ll want to discuss parameters with you before I set my team on the task.”

“You’re not expected to work 24-7,” he said.

“I know, but I’m excited and it’s not as if I have a lot of things planned. I’ve just moved to Chicago. I’m still finding my way around.”

“All the more reason to get out and explore.”

She tilted her head. “Hmm, is my new boss discouraging me from working? That’s a new one.”

“I don’t want you to burn out your first week. I need you around longer than that.”

She knew they were just joking around, and she enjoyed that she and Jack seemed to have kept some remnant of their friendship intact. But why did she have to be so aware of him?

Even now, with him standing several feet away, she would swear she could hear him breathing. Heat seemed to radiate from his body, in a way designed to make her melt.

It had been like this before, she thought glumly. Back in grad school, she’d spent two years in a constant state of sexual arousal. She’d needed the friendship more than she’d wanted a lover, so she’d ignored the physical attraction between them. She’d been careful to always seem disinterested.

Until that one night when she’d been unable to stand it a second longer.

“I promise to explore often and well,” she said. “But later. Right now I want to get to work.”

He held up both hands. “Okay. I give up. Be a slave to your job. I’ll stop complaining.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “Are you already settled in your new place?”

“I have exactly two suitcases in my hotel room. It didn’t take long to settle.”

“Aren’t you going to get an apartment?”

“Eventually. I’m too busy to look around right now.” A partial truth. Apartment hunting would give her too much time to think. She wanted to avoid bursts of introspection whenever possible.

“My building has executive rentals,” he said. “They come fully furnished and are rented by the month. That’s how I found the place. I took a two-month lease, found I liked the building and bought something larger.”

“Sounds interesting,” she said cautiously.

He grinned. “Don’t worry. It’s a huge high-rise. We’d never run into each other.”

Did he think she thought that was a problem? Okay, yeah, maybe it was. She had a feeling that running into Jack outside of work could be a complication, if not outright dangerous for her mental health. But hadn’t she promised herself to face life head on? Wasn’t she done with hiding from the truth?

“I appreciate the information,” she said. “Do you have a phone number or person to contact?”

“I have a business card in my office. Let me go get it.”

He walked down the hallway. Samantha turned her attention back to the paperwork in front of her, but instead of seeing it, she saw the empty apartment she’d left in New York only three weeks before.

She’d thought she would always live in New York. She’d thought she knew what to expect from her life. Funny how a lifetime of dreams could be packed up into a half-dozen boxes and the man she’d once trusted to love her forever had turned out to be nothing more than a lying thief.

Chapter Two

“We’re working on the, ah, upgrades right now,” Arnie said as he shifted in his seat. “The, ah, first set should be, ah, ready by the end of the month.”

Jack had to consciously keep himself from squirming in sympathy. In his law practice his clients were usually so distracted by the charges brought against them that they didn’t have the energy to be nervous and in court he didn’t care if his cross-examination upset a hostile witness.

But Arnie wasn’t a client or a hostile witness. He was a techno-geek from the information technology department, or IT, and he was obviously uncomfortable meeting with his new boss.

Jack glanced down at the report in front of him, then back at Arnie. “Sounds like you’re totally on schedule,” he said, then smiled at the other man. “Good for you.”

Arnie swallowed. “Thanks. We’ve been trying. Roger, my, ah, boss, sort of said we had to. Oh, but not in a bad way.”

“I appreciate your effort,” Jack said, wishing Roger, Arnie’s boss, had been available for the meeting. Jack couldn’t take much more of the poor man’s suffering.

“You’re going to be working with Samantha Edwards,” Jack said. “She started today. She’s very creative and energetic. I’m sure you’ll be impressed by her ideas.”

And her, Jack thought, wondering what Arnie would think of Samantha’s tall, slender beauty and infectious smile. Or maybe he didn’t have to wonder. Harsh, but true, Arnie looked like the kind of guy who never got the girl. He was pale, with thinning brown hair, light brown eyes and glasses. He wore a plaid short-sleeved shirt and jeans, and his posture yelled, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Arnie’s face contorted as if he were trying to decide if he should smile or not. “I heard there was going to be a lot of Internet expansion. That’s good for my department.”

“It will be plenty of work,” Jack told him.

“We can do it. I’m sure of it.”

“I am, too,” Jack said. “Once Samantha finalizes her plans, she’ll get with you and your guys to work out the details. We may have some capacity issues. I don’t know enough about the technicalities to know. I need you to stay on top of that. And help coordinate the launch date. We need to be aggressive, while being realistic.”

Arnie nodded vigorously. “Okay. Sure. I can do all that. But, um, you know, George was never interested in the Internet. He always liked the magazine side of the business.”

One of the reasons the company was in big trouble, Jack thought. Magazines were expensive propositions when compared with the relatively low cost of maintaining a Web site.

“I see Internet expansion as a quick and cost-effective way to build the business. After the initial start-up costs, we’re spending much less.” He frowned. Shouldn’t an IT guy know this?

“Oh, I agree,” Arnie said quickly. “I think it’s great. So do most of the guys in my department. But, you know, not everyone will agree.”

Jack didn’t like the sound of that. “Like who?”

Arnie instantly looked trapped. “Oh, it’s—”

“We’re a team here,” Jack said. “We’re only as strong as our weakest member.” Hopefully that would be the hokiest thing he had to say this week, he thought grimly. But if it worked …

Arnie squirmed some more, ducked his head, sighed, then said, “Roger, my boss. He’s not real big on change.”

“Interesting,” Jack said, wondering how someone like that rose to the level of running the IT department. Or maybe Jack’s father had wanted it that way, considering his disinterest in all things high tech. “I appreciate you telling me that. I won’t mention this conversation with Roger. You have my word.”

Arnie sighed. “Thanks. I really like my job. I wouldn’t want to get, you know, fired.” He winced as he spoke, then shook his head. “Your dad was a great man.”

“Thank you,” Jack said.

“He was patient and kind and really interested in all his employees. We all liked working for him and felt really bad when he died.”

Jack nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say when people talked about his father this way. They were describing someone he’d never met.

“Knock, knock.”

He looked up and saw Samantha walking into his office. She looked from him to Arnie.

“Am I early or late?” she asked with a smile.

“Neither,” he said. “Right on time. You’re joining our meeting in progress.”

Now that she had the job, she’d obviously decided there was no need to dress conservatively anymore—at least her definition of it. Gone were the black slacks and black-and-white jacket. In their place she wore a long skirt in a swirl of reds, greens and purples. A dark green sweater hung loosely past her hips. She had a patterned scarf draped over one shoulder, a half-dozen bracelets on each wrist and earrings that tinkled and swayed as she walked.

“This is Arnie,” Jack said, pointing to the man sitting across from him at the conference table. “He’s from IT. He’ll be working with you on the Internet expansion. You tell him what you want and he’ll tell you if it’s possible. Arnie, this is Samantha.”

The other man rose and wiped his palms on his jeans, then held out his hand. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

“Ah, hi,” Arnie said, his eyes wide, his cheeks bright with color.

“Good morning.” Samantha beamed at him. “So you’re going to be my new best friend, right? And you won’t ever want to tell me no.”

Arnie stammered, then sank back in his seat. Jack did his best not to smile. Samantha had made another conquest.

He wasn’t surprised. She walked into a room and men were instantly attracted to her. He was no exception. She was a weakness for which he’d found no antidote. Even now he found himself wanting to pull her close and run his hands through her curly hair. He wanted to stare into her eyes and feel her tremble in his embrace.

Not on this planet, he reminded himself. She hadn’t been interested ten years ago and he doubted that had changed.

Okay, she’d been interested once. Apparently once was enough where he was concerned. She’d made it more than clear she didn’t want a repeat performance.

“Don’t let Samantha push you around,” he told Arnie. “She has a tendency to do that.”

Samantha looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Me? Are you kidding? I’m the picture of complete cooperation.”

“Uh-huh. Right until someone gets in your way. Then you’re a steamroller.”

Samantha sat next to Arnie and patted his hand. “Ignore him. Jack and I went to grad school together and he seems to remember things very differently. I’ve never steamrolled anyone.” She paused, then smiled. “Well, at least not often. I can get tenacious about what I want, though. And I’ve read different reports from your department, Arnie. People have been pushing for this expansion for a while.”

That surprised Jack. “I hadn’t heard that.”

Samantha looked at him. “His boss is the reason why. I also read memos from Roger explaining why it was all a bad idea. Apparently he had some backing on that.”

She didn’t specifically say by who, but Jack could guess. He doubted his father had been a fan of growing technology.

“That was the past,” he said. “Let’s focus on the future. You two need to get together and talk about specifics.”

Samantha jotted down a note on her pad of paper. “I’ll e-mail you, Arnie. You can let me know what works for you. I tend to put in long hours. I hope that’s okay.”

Arnie’s pale eyes practically glowed. “It’s fine. Sure. I’ll be there.” He stood and nodded. “Anytime. Just e-mail me.”

“Thanks for your help,” Jack said.

“Oh, yeah. No problem.”

The other man left. Jack waited until the door closed, then turned to Samantha.

“You’ve made a friend.”

“Arnie? He’s very sweet, or so I’ve been told. I think we’ll do fine together.”

Jack told himself that she would never be interested in the other man and even if she was, it wasn’t his business. He didn’t care who Samantha wanted in her life as long as she did her job. He very nearly believed himself, too.

“What have you got?” he asked.

“Lots and lots of great ideas,” she said with a smile. “I had an extremely productive weekend. I went over the existing Web site. It’s pretty basic. There’s so much room to improve and that’s what I want. I want to start with kids twelve and under as our first target audience and I want to dazzle them.”

She set a folder on the conference table and opened it. “We’ll deal with the teens later, but first, let’s get some buzz going. I want us to be the Web site the kids are dying to go to the second they get home from school. I want to do more than help them with their homework. I want us to be the coolest place on the Web. We can talk about sports and clothes and music. Movies, TV, trends. I was thinking we’d have an ‘Ask Annie’ kind of column.”

He stared at her. “Who’s Annie?”

She laughed. “I mean an advice column. Ask the resident expert. Annie, Mark, the name isn’t important. But here’s the cool part—it will be real-time and interactive. Like a chat room. I have a lot of ideas for developing all this. But our biggest concern is security. We’re going to have to go state-of-the-art so the kids are totally safe on the Web site.”

“I like it.”

“Good.”

Her smile widened and he felt it punch him right in the gut. Ever-present need growled to life.

“You don’t need to run all this by me,” he told her, doing his damnedest to ignore the blood rushing to his groin. “I trust you to run your department.”

“I know, but this is big stuff. I’m talking about huge changes.”

“That would be the reason I hired you.”

She studied him. “You really trust me with all this?”

“Of course.”

“Wow. Great. I guess I’ll get my team to pull it all together and then we’ll have a big presentation.”

“I look forward to it.” He leaned toward her. “That’s how I run things, Samantha,” he told her. “Until someone screws up, he or she has free rein.”

“I would have thought you were more the control type.”

“Because I wear a suit?”

“Sort of. You’re a lawyer. That doesn’t help with the image.”

“What if I went into environmental law?”

She grinned. “Did you?”

“No. Criminal.”

“So it’s not just suits. It’s designer suits.”

“Mostly. But even at the law firm, I give my people room to grow and make mistakes. One screwup isn’t fatal.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “That sounds so balanced.”

“I like to think of myself that way.”

“You were less balanced in grad school. Much more.”

He looked at her. “Stick up the ass?”

Her mouth threatened a smile, but she held it back. “I would never have said that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“Maybe a little. You had that study schedule.”

“It kept me on track and freed up my weekends. I had plenty of time for fun.”

“I remember,” she said with a laugh. “Okay, I’ll let it go. You weren’t that rigid. I think you were just so much more together than any other guy I met. It scared me.”

He wondered if that was true. Had he made her uneasy in ways he hadn’t understood? Did it even matter now?

“You were the most unstructured successful person I’d met,” he said.

“I was kind of crazy back then,” she admitted. “I’ve calmed down some.”

“I hope not. I liked you crazy. Remember the time we spent Christmas eve in a stable because you wanted to know what it was like?” he asked.

She laughed. “Yes, and you kept telling me that I needed to pay attention to geography.”

“I was right. We were in Pennsylvania in the middle of winter. Not exactly the Middle East.”

Despite the cold, they’d had a great time huddled together. He’d wanted her with a desperation that had made him tremble more than the cold. The next morning, he’d driven her to the airport so she could fly home to spend Christmas Day with her mother.

Speaking of which … “How’s your mom?” he asked.

Samantha’s smile faded. “She passed away about three years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really liked her.”

“Thanks. I miss her. It was hard to lose her. She’d been sick for a while, so it wasn’t a big surprise. We were able to say our goodbyes, which made things better.” She collected her papers. “Okay, I’m going to let you get back to work. I have to put my presentation together so that you’re dazzled, too. You will be, you know.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

He walked her to the door, then returned to his desk. Only a crazy man would continue to want what he couldn’t have, he told himself. Which made him certifiable. It was the human condition, he thought.

And now she’d caught Arnie in her web. Jack could almost pity the guy. The difference was Arnie would probably fantasize about happily-ever-after while Jack only wanted Samantha in his bed. He’d learned a long time ago to concentrate on the physical and ignore the emotional. There was no point in engaging his heart—people who claimed to love quickly got over the feeling and then they left.

Samantha hadn’t been sure what to expect when she’d signed up for “executive housing,” but she was pleasantly surprised by all her condo had to offer. There was a spacious living room with a semi-view, a dining area and plenty of room in the kitchen, especially for someone who made it a point to dirty as few pots as possible.

Her bedroom held a king-size bed, a dresser and an armoire with a television. The closet was huge and she’d already soaked her troubles away in the massive whirlpool tub in her bathroom. There was even a workstation alcove with a desk for her laptop, good lighting and high-speed Internet connection.

The only downside to the space was the fact that it felt … impersonal. The neutral colors were so bland and the furniture so functional. There wasn’t anything funky to be found.

Still, the condo worked for now and it was about double the size her New York apartment had been. As she stood in front of the slider leading out to her small balcony and considered take-out options for dinner, she felt a whisper of contentment steal over her.

Coming to Chicago had been a good idea, she thought. She’d needed to leave New York. Despite loving the city, there were too many Vance memories around, and she’d needed to get away from them and him. Here she could start over. Build new memories. There were—

Someone knocked on her door. She crossed the beige carpet and looked through the peephole.

“Jack?” she asked as she pulled open the door.

“I’m presuming,” he said, holding up two brown bags. “I come bearing Chinese food. I have wine, too. Sort of a welcome-to-the-building thing. Interested?”

She was delighted, she thought, stepping back and motioning him to enter. Instead, a black-and-white border collie slipped by Jack and stepped into the apartment.

“This is Charlie,” Jack said. “Do you like dogs?”

Samantha held out her fingers for Charlie to sniff, then petted him. “I love them.” She crouched down in front of Charlie and rubbed his shoulders. “Who’s a handsome guy?” she asked, then laughed as he tried to lick her face.

“He likes you,” Jack said. “Smart dog.”

She laughed. “Okay, now I really want to have dinner with you. Come on in.”

She led the way to the kitchen where Jack opened the wine and she collected plates for their dinner. As she opened the bags and began pulling out cartons of food, she noticed a bright red plastic bowl and a box with a big C on it.

“This is interesting,” she said, holding up both.

Jack grinned sheepishly. “They’re for Charlie. He loves Chinese, so the place I go mixes up a special rice dish for him. It’s beef and chicken, rice, vegetables, light on the salt and spices. He loves it and the vet approves. It’s kind of a special treat.”

Samantha did her best to reconcile the straitlaced lawyer she knew Jack to be with a guy who would special order food for his dog.

“Now I know who’s really in charge,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Jack said easily. “He’s the boss.”

He helped her carry the cartons to the table. Charlie was served, but he waited until they sat down before digging in to his dinner.

Jack held out his glass of wine. “Welcome to the neighborhood. I hope you like it.”

“Thank you.” They touched glasses, then she took a sip of the red wine. “Very nice. All of this.”

“No problem. I thought you might still be feeling out of place.”

“Some. I like the apartment, but it’s weird because nothing in here is mine. Like these plates.” She held up the plain cream plate. “I would never have bought these.”

“Too normal?”

“Too boring. Color is our friend.”

“Agreed. But you’ll get settled, then you can find a place of your own.”

“I know. But for now, this is great. They make it very convenient.”

Jack passed her the honey-glazed shrimp. “That’s why I’m here. Dry cleaning right downstairs. The corner grocery store delivers. The dog walker lives across the street. There are over twenty restaurants in a five-block square around here and a great park close by where Charlie and I hang out on weekends.”

She glanced at the dog who had finished his dinner and was now sniffing the floor for rice grains he might have missed. “He’s beautiful. But doesn’t he need exercise and attention? You’re a guy who works long hours.”

“He’s fine,” Jack said. “Is it quiet enough here for you? That’s the first thing I noticed when I moved in. How quiet it was. Good construction.”

She started to agree, then realized he had not-so-subtly changed the subject. “It’s great,” she said. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“About Charlie. You changed the subject.”

“From what?”

“How he gets through the day without tearing up your place.”

“He keeps busy.”

Jack looked uncomfortable. She glanced from him to the dog. “What? He watches soaps and does a crossword puzzle?”

Jack sighed. “He goes to day care, okay? I know, I know. It’s silly, but he has a lot of energy and border collies are herding dogs. I didn’t want him alone and bored all the time so three days a week he goes to doggy day care. There he plays with the other dogs and herds them around. He comes home so tired that on Tuesdays and Thursdays he pretty much just sleeps. I have a dog walker who comes by twice a day to take him out.”

The muscles in his jaw tensed slightly as he spoke.She could tell he hadn’t wanted to share that part of his life with her.

She did her best not to smile or laugh—he would take that wrong—not realizing that women would find a big, tough, successful guy who cared that much about his dog pretty appealing.

“You’re a responsible pet owner,” she said. “Some people aren’t.”

He narrowed his gaze, as if waiting for a slam. She smiled innocently, then changed the subject.

After dinner they moved to the living room. Charlie made a bid for the wing chair in the corner. Jack ordered him out of it. The dog gave a sigh of long suffering, then stretched out on the carpet by Samantha.

Jack glanced around at the furniture, then studied the painting over the fireplace. “So not you,” he said.

Samantha looked at the subtle blues and greens. “It’s very restful.”

“You hate it.”

“I wouldn’t have gone for something so …”

“Normal?” he asked.

She grinned. “Exactly. Too expected. Where’s the interesting furniture, the splash of color?”

“I’m sure you’ll do that with your next place.”

“Absolutely. I miss fringe.”

He winced. “I remember you had that horrible shawl over that table in your apartment when we were in grad school. It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen.”

“It was beautiful,” she told him. “And it had an amazing color palate.”

“It looked like something from a Dali nightmare.”

“You have no taste,” she said.

“I know when to be afraid.”

He smiled as he spoke, making her own mouth curve up in return. It had always been like this, she thought. They rarely agreed and yet they got along just fine. She liked that almost as much as she liked looking at him.

He’d changed out of his workday suit into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The denim had seen better days. Dozens of washings had softened and faded the material, molding to his long legs and narrow hips.

A controlled sex appeal, she thought. Reined-in power that always made her wonder what would happen when he lost control. How big would the explosion be? She had an idea from their lone night together. He had claimed her with a need that had left her shaking and desperately wanting more.

Step away from the memory, she told herself. Talk about dangerous territory.

“Don’t you have some furniture and decorations from your New York apartment?” he asked.

“I have a few things in storage,” she said. A very few things. In an ongoing attempt to control her, Vance had fought her over every picture and dish. It had been easier and oddly freeing simply to walk away.

An emotion flickered in his dark eyes. “I know you’re coming off of a divorce. How are you holding up?”

The news wasn’t a secret, so she wasn’t surprised that he knew. “Okay. It was tough at first. I went through the whole ‘I’ve failed’ bit, but I’ve moved on from that. Right now I’m feeling a lot of relief.”

“It’s a tough time,” he said.

She nodded. “I had really planned to stay married to the same man for the rest of my life. I thought I’d picked the perfect guy.” She paused. “Not perfect. Perfect for me. But I was wrong.”

An understatement, she thought grimly. “We wanted different things in nearly everything. I could have lived with that, but he changed his mind about wanting children.” She kept her voice light because if she gave in to her real feelings, the bitterness would well up inside of her. She didn’t want to deal with that right now. Talk about a waste of energy.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I remember you used to talk about having kids all the time.”

“I still plan to have them. I think I have a few good years left.”

“More than a few.”

She smiled as she spoke. Jack liked the way she curled up on the sofa, yet kept one leg lowered so she could rub Charlie with her bare foot.

She still painted her toenails, he thought, looking at the tiny flowers painted on each big toe. She even had a toe ring on each foot. None of the women he got involved with were the toe-ring type. Of course none of them wore jeans with flowers sewn onto the side seams or sweaters that looked more like a riot of colors than clothing.

“Enough about me,” she said. “What have you been up to, romantically?”

“Nothing that interesting,” he told her. “No wives, current or ex. I was engaged for a while.”

“Oh. It didn’t work out?”

“She died.”

Samantha’s eyes widened. “Jack, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. It was a few years ago, just before Christmas. Shelby’s car spun out on an icy bridge and went into the water. She didn’t make it.”

“How horrible.”

Samantha was the sympathetic type. She would want to say the right thing, only to realize there wasn’t one. He’d heard all the platitudes possible and none of them had made a damn bit of difference. Not after he’d found Shelby’s note. The one she’d written before she’d died.

“Was it very close to the wedding?” she asked.

“Just a little over a week. We were planning to get married New Year’s Eve.”

She bit her lower lip. “You must hate the holidays now.”

“Not as much as I would have thought. I get angry, thinking about what was lost.”

Not for him and Shelby—he’d done his best to let that go—but for her family. They were good people and he knew they’d yet to move on.

“Relationships are never easy,” she said.

Charlie chose that moment to roll onto his back and offer his stomach for rubbing. Samantha obliged him and he started to groan.

“That dog knows a good thing when he has one,” Jack said.

She looked at him and grinned. “Oh, right. Because you don’t spoil him.”

“Me? Never.” He sipped on his wine. “Are you overwhelmed by work yet?”

“Almost. Ask me again in two days and I’m sure the answer will be yes. There’s so much to do, and that’s what makes it all exciting. This is a great opportunity.”

He was glad she thought so. He wanted energetic people solving company problems as quickly as possible. “Have you heard about the big advertiser party? It’s in a few weeks. It’s an annual function and very upscale. Formal attire required.”

“Really? You mean I have an excuse to buy a new dress and look fabulous?”

The thought of her in something long and slinky suddenly made him look forward to the party in ways he hadn’t before. “It’s not just an excuse,” he said. “It’s an order.”

“And you’ll be in a tux?”

He grimaced. “Oh, yeah.”

“I’m sure you’ll look great. All the women will be fawning over you.”

“Fawning gets old,” he said, doing his best not to read anything into her comment. While he wanted to believe she was flirting, he’d been shot down enough in the past to know that wishful thinking got him exactly nowhere.

“Do you have a lot of it?” she asked, her green eyes sparkling with humor.

“Enough.”

“And just how much is that?”

He sensed they were in dangerous territory, but he wasn’t sure how to avoid getting in trouble.

“I date,” he said cautiously.

“I would guess that you have women lining up to be with you,” she said easily. “You’re good-looking, successful, well-off and single. That’s fairly irresistible.”

Except for Samantha, that had always been his take on it, too. So why did he get the feeling that she didn’t see the list as a good thing?

“Some women manage to resist,” he said. “What about you? Ready to start dating?”

“I don’t think so. Not for a while. Divorce has a way of sucking the confidence out of a person. Or at least it did me.”

He couldn’t believe that. She had always been confident. Smart, funny, gorgeous. “It doesn’t show.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I’m getting by on sheer determination.”

“It’s working.”

He wanted to tell her she had nothing to worry about—that she was as desirable as ever and he was willing to prove it.

Not a good idea, he reminded himself. So instead of speaking, or acting, he stood. “It’s late. Charlie and I need our beauty sleep.” He whistled softly. “Come on, boy.”

Charlie rose and stretched. He licked Samantha’s hand, then joined Jack.

She got up and followed them to the front door. “Thanks for stopping by. Dinner was great. I appreciated the company, as well.” She crouched down and rubbed Charlie’s ears. “You’re a very handsome boy. We’ll have to get together again soon.”

Charlie barked his agreement.

Figures, Jack thought with a grin. After all these years, she falls for the dog.

Chapter Three

Nearly a week later, Jack sat behind what had been his father’s desk, cursing his agreement to take over the company, even temporarily. Every day brought a new crisis and, with it, bad news. At this point all he was asking for was twenty-four hours without something major going wrong.

He’d already had to deal with the IT people informing him that their Web pages were nearly at capacity and, to support the Web expansion, they were going to have to negotiate with their server. The previous quarter’s report showed magazine subscriptions falling for their three best publications. A train derailment had destroyed nearly a hundred thousand magazines heading to the West Coast markets and he’d just seen the layout for the launch of their new home-decorating magazine and even he could tell it sucked the big one.

There was too much to deal with, he thought. How the hell had his father done all this and run several departments?

Jack leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He already had the answer to that one—George Hanson hadn’t done it well. Things had slipped and there’d been no time to fix them before the next crisis had appeared. Despite hiring department heads, Jack was still overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work.

As far as he could tell, there was only one way for Hanson Media Group to survive—he had to get more help.

He buzzed for his assistant. When Mrs. Wycliff entered his office, he motioned for her to take a seat.

“I need to get in touch with my brothers,” he said. “Do you know where Evan and Andrew are these days?”

If the older woman was surprised that Jack didn’t know where to find his brothers himself, she didn’t show it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” she said. “Would you like me to try to find them?”

“Please. I suggest you follow the credit-card charges. That’s generally the easiest way.” Evan favored Europe and Andrew tended to follow the seasons—summering in exclusive beach resorts and wintering in places like Whistler and Gstaad.

Jack knew all the psychobabble about siblings. In every family each tried to get his parents’ attention in a different way. For Jack, it had been about being the best at whatever he did. He’d learned early that he was expected to take over the family business and for a long time he’d worked toward that. But in the end, he’d walked away from Hanson Media Group, just like his brothers.

None of them had made the old man proud.

Did Evan and Andrew ever feel guilty? Jack had tried to make peace with his father more than once, but the old man had never seemed interested. All he’d talked about was how Jack should be at Hanson Media Group instead of practicing law.

Jack regretted losing touch with his brothers a lot more than he regretted disappointing his father.

“I’ll get right on that,” Mrs. Wycliff told him. “Have you spoken with your uncle?”

“Not about this,” Jack told her. “But that’s a great idea. Thank you.”

She rose. “I’ll let you know as soon as I locate them,” she said, then left.

Jack buzzed David’s office. “Hi. Are you available?”

“Absolutely.”

The public relations department was the next floor down, on the main level of Hanson Media Group. Here the bright overhead lights contrasted with the rich blues and purples in the carpet and on the sofas and chairs.

Jack took the stairs and made his way to David’s office. His uncle couldn’t have been more different from Jack’s father. Where George had lived and breathed business, David always had time for his nephews.

David’s secretary waved him in. Jack pushed open the door and walked into David’s large office.

The space had been designed to impress and put people at ease. It did both. David walked around his desk and shook hands with Jack, then pulled him close for a quick hug.

“How’s it going?” David asked as he led the way to the sofas in the corner. “Still finding things wrong?”

“Every day. I’m hoping for some good news soon. I figure we’re all due.”

“Toward the end, George wasn’t himself,” David said. “I think the work became too much for him. I’m guessing. He didn’t confide in me.”

“Did he confide in anyone?” Jack asked.

“Probably not. You hanging in there?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Jack looked at his uncle. Like all the Hanson men, he was tall, with brown hair. His eyes were lighter and he was nearly twenty years younger than his brother. Maybe that was why David had always been closer to his nephews. Maybe that was why David had been able to be there for them, Jack thought. George had been more like a father than a brother to David.

“You always have a choice,” David told him. “You could walk.”

“I gave my word to the board. I’m here for three months to clear things up and then I’m gone. I’m trying to get ahold of Evan and Andrew.”

David frowned. “Good luck with that.”

“Mrs. Wycliff is going to follow the money. That always works.” Jack shook his head. “They should be here. We should do this together.”

“You’ve never been close. Why expect it now?”

“Good point.” Jack didn’t have an answer. “Who am I kidding? If I had the chance to bolt, I’d take it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” David said. “You could have told the board no and you didn’t. You have a strong sense of responsibility.”

“Great. Look where it got me—here.”

“Is that so bad?”

“It’s keeping me from my real job.” Jack leaned forward. “Why don’t you take over? You know more about Hanson Media Group than any of us. You could run the company.”

“Not my thing,” David said. “Even if it was, I would respect my brother’s wishes. He wanted one of his sons to be in charge.”

“We don’t know that,” Jack said. “And we won’t until the will is read.” He swore. “What was my father thinking? Why on earth would he want us to wait three months to read the will? It’s crazy. Nothing can be settled until then. For all we know, he’s giving his majority shares to the cat.”

David grinned. “He didn’t have a cat.”

Someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” David called.

His secretary walked in with a tray and set it on the coffee table. “Anything else?”

David smiled at her. “Thanks, Nina. You didn’t have to do this.”

“No problem. Oh, you had a call from the printers.”

David groaned. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Not really,” Nina said cheerfully. “Don’t worry. I’ve already fixed the problem.”

With that she left.

Jack reached for one of the cups of coffee. “Tell me Andrew and Evan will at least come back for the reading of the will.”

David looked at him. “Are you hoping to cut and run the second their plane touches down?”

“It crossed my mind. I have a law practice to get back to.”

“Maybe you’ll appreciate your career more if you have to suffer a little here,” his uncle told him.

Jack narrowed his gaze. “If you start talking about Zen centering, I’m going to have to punch you.”

David laughed. “You know what I mean. You shouldn’t take things for granted.”

“I don’t. I’m not here to learn a life lesson. My father convinced the board that I was the only possible heir and now they’re pressuring me to take over. It’s all about self-interest. His, theirs, mine. My father didn’t give a damn about what I wanted. He’s doing his best to control me from the grave.”

“George loved you,” David said. “In his own way.”

“That’s like saying the black widow spider doesn’t mean it personally when she kills her mate.” He took another drink of coffee. “You’ve always defended him, even as you stepped in to take his place as our father.”

David shrugged. “I wanted to help.”

“You should have had a family of your own.”

“So should you. Speaking of which, I put out a press release about the new people you’ve hired. One of the names was familiar.”

“Samantha was the best person for the job,” Jack said, refusing to get defensive.

“I don’t doubt that. I’m simply saying it was interesting to see her name again. I remember her from your time in grad school. The one who got away.”

“She was never that,” Jack told him.

“You talked about her as if she were.”

“That was a long time ago. Things are different now.”

“Is she married?”

“No.”

“Then maybe fate is giving you a second chance.”

Jack looked at his uncle. “If you start drinking herbal tea next, we’re going to have to have a talk.”

David chuckled. “I’m just saying maybe you’re getting a second chance.”

“I don’t believe in them.”

David’s humor faded and he gave Jack a serious look. “Not every woman is Shelby.”

“I know that.” He put down his coffee and stood. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. As for Samantha, she’s a co-worker, nothing more.”

David grinned. “You’re lying. But we’ll play your game and pretend you’re not.”

“Gee, thanks. And if you hear anything on the whereabouts of my brothers, let me know.”

“You’ll be the first.”

“Oh, my,” Helen said as she looked around the condo. “It’s very …”

“Plain? Beige? Boring?” Samantha asked with a grin.

“I was going to say very ‘not you.’ But those will work as well.” She stepped forward and hugged Samantha again. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too. Getting out of New York was number one on my to-do list. You made that happen.”

Helen sank onto the sofa and dismissed Samantha with a flick of her wrist. “Oh, please. I got you an interview. I certainly didn’t get you hired. It’s not as if Jack would ever think to ask my opinion of anything. You got the job on your own.”

Samantha settled next to her friend and touched her arm. “You look tired. How do you feel?”

“Exhausted. Shell-shocked. It’s been two months. I guess I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.” Tears filled her eyes, but Helen blinked them away. “Damn. I promised myself I was done with crying.”

“There’s no time limit on grief.”

“I know.” Helen squeezed her fingers. “You’re sweet to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay. I’m pretending to be fine and that should count for something. Most of the time I do okay. I can now go for an hour or two without falling apart. In the beginning I was only able to survive minutes. So that’s an improvement. It’s just I miss him so much and I feel so alone.”

Samantha didn’t know what to say. Helen really was alone in all this. She didn’t have any family of her own and George’s sons hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms.

“Have you tried talking to Jack?” she asked. “He’s not unreasonable.”

“I know,” Helen said as she dug in her purse. She pulled out a tissue and wiped under her eyes. “He’s very polite and concerned, but we’re not close. I tried. I tried so hard, but no matter what I did, those boys resisted.” She sniffed. “I suppose I shouldn’t call them boys. They’re all grown men. They were grown when I met them. It’s just that’s how George thought of them. As his boys.”

Samantha angled toward her friend. “I don’t get it, either. They should have adored you.”

“Oh, I agree. I did everything I could think of. On my good days, I tell myself it wasn’t me. George was a wonderful man, but he was never very close with his sons. I don’t know why. Whatever problems they had existed long before he met me. Oh, but I loved him so much.”

“I know you did.”

Helen smiled. “All right. This is stupid. I didn’t come here to cry. I want to talk about you. Tell me everything. Are you loving your job?”

Samantha accepted the change in subject. She didn’t know how to help her friend, so maybe distracting her would allow her a few minutes away from the pain.

“Every second,” she said. “There’s so much work, which is great. I like keeping busy. I have so many ideas for the new Web site that I’ve started keeping a pad of paper and a pen on the nightstand. I wake up two or three times a night with more details or directions or things we could do.”

Helen wrinkled her nose. “I can see we’re going to have to have the ‘balance’ conversation in a few weeks.”

“Maybe,” Samantha said with a laugh. “But for now, I’m really happy. I like the people I work with, I feel I’m contributing. It’s great.”

“Do you miss Vance?”

Samantha sighed. “No. And I really mean it. I thought I’d hurt more, but I think all the betrayal burned away the love. For the longest time I thought I’d never forgive him. Lately, I’ve come to see that I don’t care enough to worry about forgiveness. He was horrible in so many ways. I have to think about myself and getting better. Not about him.”

“Good for you. You’ve made a fresh start. You can get back on your feet. Look around. Maybe fall in love again.”

Samantha held up her fingers in the sign of a cross. “Get back. There will be no talk of love or relationships in the context of my life, thank you very much.” She lowered her hands to her lap. “I’m done with men.”

“Forever?”

“For a while. I don’t need the pain and suffering.”

“It’s not all like that,” Helen said. “Vance wasn’t the one for you. You figured that out and moved on. It was the right thing to do. But you don’t want to turn your back on love. You don’t want to miss the chance to have a great love. I believe there’s one great love for everyone.”

Samantha nodded. “And George was yours.”

“He was everything,” Helen said. “I was so lucky to find him. We shared so much. That’s what I want to remember forever. How much we shared. How much we mattered to each other. I’ll never find that again.”

Samantha wondered if that was true. Helen was still a relatively young woman. And a beautiful one. Samantha had a feeling there was at least one other great love in her friend’s life. As for herself, she wasn’t interested in trying. Not when she’d been burned so badly.

“Speaking of men,” Helen said. “What’s it like working with Jack?”

“Good. He’s very efficient and gives me all the room I need.”

Helen raised her eyebrows. “And?”

Samantha shrugged. “And what?”

“Are there sparks? I remember there were sparks when you were in grad school with him. I remember long discussions about whether or not you should risk getting involved with him. I also remember saying you should, but you ignored me.”

“He’s not my type,” she said, sidestepping the sparks question. Mostly because she didn’t want to admit they were still there and starting fires every time she and Jack were in the same room.

“Type doesn’t always enter into it,” Helen said. “Some men simply turn us on.”

“If you say so.”

Her friend stared at her. “Jack isn’t like Vance. He’s honest and he’s been hurt.”

Samantha drew back. She was beginning to think all men were like Vance. “Are you matchmaking? If so, stop right now. It’s so not allowed.”

“I’m not. I’m making a point. Jack’s a great guy.”

“For someone else.”

“If you say so.”

Jack’s last meeting finished at four. He returned to his office and found several empty boxes by the wall.

Mrs. Wycliff, efficient as ever, had delivered them while he’d been out. He planned to pack up a lot of his father’s things and have them put in storage until his brothers showed up. Then the three of them could sit down with Helen and figure out who wanted what and what to do with anything left over.

He headed for the bookcase first. There were several out-of-date directories and registries. He dropped those into boxes without a second glance, then slowed when he came to the pictures of his father with various clients, city leaders and employees.

“No pictures of family,” Jack murmured. No graduation shots, no informal photos taken on vacation or over holidays. Probably because they’d never much traveled as a family and, after his mother’s death, holidays had been grim, dutiful affairs at best.

It should have been different, he thought. He knew guys with brothers and they were all tight. Why hadn’t he, Evan and Andrew connected? Why weren’t they close? They were all dealing with the death of their father. Wouldn’t they do it better together?

“Did it matter? I don’t even know where they are.”

What did that say about the relationship? That he had no idea where to find either of his brothers? Nothing good.

He finished with the bookcase and started on the credenza. He needed room to store reports, quarterly statements and the like. The credenza was perfect. He pulled out old files and glanced through them. Some of them were over a decade old. Was that what had gone wrong with the company? Had his father been unable to stay focused on the present?

Jack had a feeling he would never get those questions answered. He and his father had never been close and any opportunity for that had been lost years ago. What made the situation even worse was Jack could barely feel regret about the circumstances.

He filled more boxes with papers, files and bound reports. When the credenza was empty, he reached for the quarterly reports and started to slide them in place. But the shelf wasn’t high enough.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he said as he looked at the credenza. “They should fit.”

He reached inside and poked around, only to realize the base of the shelf was too thick by a couple of inches. What the hell?

After a little more prodding, he felt a narrow piece of metal, almost like a lever. When he pushed on it, the shelf popped up revealing a long, shallow recessed space and a set of leather books.

Jack’s first thought was that his father had kept a diary. He was surprised to find himself anxious to read the older man’s thoughts. But when he picked up the first book and flipped through it, there weren’t any personal notes. Instead he stared at rows and rows of numbers.

His world was the law and it took him a second to realize he was looking at a detailed income statement. He glanced at the date and felt his stomach clench. This was for the previous year. He’d just spent the better part of the morning looking at the income statement for the past year. He was familiar with those numbers and they weren’t anything like these.

Even though he already knew, he still found the first statement and compared it to the one his father had kept hidden. All the entry titles were the same but the amounts were different, and not for the better.

Anger filled him. Anger and a growing sense of betrayal. George Hanson had kept the truth from everyone. Jack didn’t know how he’d done it, but the proof was here in the second set of books he’d hidden away.

Not only was the company close to bankruptcy, but his father’s concealment had been criminal and premeditated. The company was totally screwed—and so was Jack.

Chapter Four

Jack carefully went through the books, hoping to find something to show that he’d been wrong—that his father hadn’t defrauded employees, stockholders and his family. But with every column, every total, the truth became more impossible to avoid.

He stood and crossed to the window where the night sky of Chicago stretched out before him. He could feel the walls closing in and fought against the sense of being trapped. With news like this, the board would pressure him to stay longer. They would insist that a three-month commitment to get things straightened out simply wasn’t enough. In their position, he would do the same.

He heard someone knock on his office door, then push it open. He turned toward the sound.

“You’re working late,” Samantha said as she walked toward him. “I had a feeling you would still be here. You executive types—always going the extra mile. Doesn’t being so conscientious get—” She stopped in mid-stride and stared at him. “What’s wrong?”

So much for a poker face, he thought grimly. There was no point in keeping the truth from her. He would be calling an emergency board meeting first thing in the morning. Time was critical. The financial information would have to be disclosed, first to the board, and then to the investors and the financial world. His father had insisted on taking the company public, which meant playing by the rules of the SEC.

“I found a second set of books,” he said, nodding toward his desk. “My father kept them by hand. I’ve checked them against the computer financial statements and they don’t add up. He was concealing massive expenditures and losses.”

Samantha’s eyes widened. “Fraud?”

“That’s one word for it. I can think of fifty others. We’re going to have to do a complete audit and find out the true financial situation. I doubt it’s going to be good news. We’re talking about a possible SEC investigation, plenty of bad press and downturn in the stock price.” He returned his attention to the view. “At least the family owns a majority of the shares. We don’t have to worry about a total sell-off. There will be a hit in our price, but it shouldn’t be too bad. Not with a new management team in place and complete disclosure.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

“You and me, both. Not exactly what you want to hear about your new employer. Ready to cut and run?”

“What? Of course not.” She moved next to him. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not happy, if that’s what you mean. Just once, I’d like to be surprised by good news.”

“Jack, you’re talking about your father. That he concealed material financial information. That’s a big deal.”

“Good thing he’s dead, then. Otherwise, he’d be going to jail.”

He sounded so calm, Samantha thought. As if all this were happening to someone else. From what she knew, Jack and his father had never been tight, but this had to be hard for him. No one wanted to find out a parent had committed a crime.

“He wasn’t a bad man,” she said, not knowing if there was any way to make this easier for Jack. “Maybe he just got in over his head.”

He looked at her. “You’re trying to justify what he did?”

“Of course not. But from everything I’ve heard, he wasn’t evil.”

“He doesn’t have to be evil to have broken the law. People do it all the time.” He shook his head. “I’m almost not surprised. He ran several departments himself. He couldn’t give up the control. Maybe this was just another way of holding on tight. The numbers weren’t what he wanted them to be, so he modified them. No wonder he wasn’t big on change—technology would have made it tough for him to hide the truth.”

“But he did,” she said.

“In spades. I wonder if David knows about this?”

“Are you going to ask him?”

“I’m going to ask everyone,” Jack said. “The only way to ward off a crisis is to have a plan in place to solve the problem and to find anyone who may have helped him.”

“You don’t think he acted alone?”

“Unlikely. But I know it was his idea.”

“You might want to talk to Helen,” Samantha said before she could stop herself. “She may know something.”

Jack glanced at her. “You think she was involved?”

“What? No! Helen wouldn’t do anything like this. But she might be able to tell you if George was acting stressed or if he suddenly seemed to change. She might have some suggestions.”

His mouth twisted. “I don’t need shopping advice.”

Samantha stiffened at the insult to her friend. “Is that what you think of her? That she’s a useless bimbo who only cares about clothes and jewelry?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know the woman.”

“And why is that? She’s been a part of this family for a while now. Why weren’t you interested in even trying to get to know her?”

“I’m familiar with the type.”

“Helen isn’t a type. She’s a person and she’s not the person you imagine her to be. How interesting. You think your father got himself and the company in this position because he held on too tight to outdated ideas. It seems to me that you’re a lot like that, too.”

Samantha took notes as one of her team members wrapped up his presentation. “Great job, Phil,” she said. “I really like how you’re using colors to coordinate your section. It will make navigating the site really fun.”

“Younger kids respond to colors. They’re easier for them than instructions,” he said with a grin. “I was thinking we could use the same format for the sections for older kids, but with the colors getting darker. Light blue flowing into dark blue into navy. So clicking on anything blue will automatically pop up math-related questions.”

“Good idea,” she told him, then looked at Arnie. “So, does that make your job harder or easier?”

Arnie rubbed his hand on his khakis. “Once we get it programmed, it’s not a problem.”

“Good.” She found it helpful always to include the IT guys in on the planning stages of any Internet project. Better to get their cooperation and input while the work was still easily modified.

“You could, ah, use drop-down menus, too,” Arnie said. “After they click on the color. So it’s not just one question. It could be a series. And then based on how they answer, they can go to another place on the site. Like if they get the answer right, they get a mini game. You know, for motivation.”

Samantha glanced at her team, who all seemed pleased with the idea.

“Good thinking,” she said. “You have a big thumbs-up on that one, Arnie. Thanks.”

He shrugged and blushed. His gaze never left her face.

Samantha recognized the signs of a crush and wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. Not only wasn’t she looking for love right now, Arnie wasn’t her type. He was a nice enough guy, but nothing about him caused her to tingle.

Just then the conference-room door opened and Jack stepped inside. He didn’t say anything and quietly took a seat in the back.

Instantly her body went on alert, just in case her brain hadn’t noticed his arrival. She hated that even though she was still angry with him, she reacted physically. She found herself wanting to sit up straighter and push out her chest. Of course the complete lack of significant breast-type curves made that gesture futile, but still, the urge to flaunt was there.

Go figure, she thought. Arnie was available and pleasant and smart and probably completely uncomplicated. Nothing about him pushed any of her emotional buttons. Jack might be available and sexy, but he was also her worst-case scenario, man-wise, and totally unreasonable. He made her crazy with his assumptions about Helen.

Which they would deal with another time, she thought as she turned her attention back to the meeting in progress.

“The reward games should be related to the topic,” Sandy said. “At least on some level. Like a blaster game based on times tables for the math color or something scientific for the science section.”

“The difficulty of the games could increase with each grade level,” Phil added.

“We’re going to be spending a lot of time on content,” Samantha said. “But it will be worth it. We’ll need to take these ideas to research and get them going on questions and answers. We can do timed and non-timed quizzes. Maybe coordinate some of the questions with what’s being studied in the textbooks. Are they standardized by region? Let’s find that out. If we can emphasize what they’re already studying, we’ll reinforce the teachers’ lessons.”

“I’m working on the time line,” Jeff said. “So a kid can type in a date and find out what’s happening all over the world at that time. We’re thinking anything date related will reference back to the time line. So if someone is working on a paper on Thomas Jefferson and they go online for information, the Web site will offer a time-line link. That way the student can see not only what was happening in this country, but everywhere. We can also cross-reference, so with the Jefferson paper, they could talk about what was happening in China and how it was the same but different.”

“Wish I’d had that when I was in school,” Samantha said.

“Me, too,” Jeff said. “I would have done better in history.”

The meeting continued. Ideas were offered and discussed. They had a limited amount of time to get the Web site up and running, so there would be a final of only the best. Still, she wanted as much to choose from as possible.

As people spoke and offered suggestions, Samantha was careful not to look at Jack. On the professional side, she knew it was important to put their argument behind them. As someone who cared about her friend, she was still really mad.

“That should take care of it for now,” she said. “Good work, people. I’m impressed. We’ll meet again on Friday.”

Her staff stood and headed for the door. Arnie glanced at Jack, who remained seated at the table. The smaller man hesitated, looked at her, then left. Samantha had no choice but to acknowledge her boss.

“We’re getting there,” she said as she collected her notes.

“Yes, you are,” he told her. “Your team works well together. I like where things are going.”

“Good.”

“You have an easy working style. You’re firmly in charge, but you don’t force your will on anyone.”

“What’s the point of that?” she asked. “I already know what I think. I’m looking for their ideas.”

“Not everyone thinks that way.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“You’re still mad at me,” he said, making it a statement not a question, so she had no reason to deny it.

“I don’t understand why you’re determined to think the worst of Helen. From what I can tell, you barely know the woman. If you’d spent time with her and she’d been horrible, I would understand your less-than-flattering opinion. But you’re basing it all on a few casual meetings and the mythology that stepmothers are inherently evil.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “It’s not about her being my stepmother.”

“Then what is it?”

He hesitated. “She’s much younger than my father,” he began. “My father was not a kind man.”

Samantha stood. “Oh, I see. You’re saying she married him for his money? Is that it?” Anger filled her. “I’ve known Helen for years. In fact, she used to be my babysitter. We’ve stayed close. She’s like family to me. She loved your father. Maybe you and he didn’t get along so you’re having trouble with that concept, but it’s true. She considers him the love of her life. I can’t help defending her. It’s like you’re attacking my sister.”