by Diana Palmer
"You don't know exactly how much," she murmured.
"I think I might even tell Mrs. Dade why you don't need the job anymore," he said with dry humor. "You must have laughed your head off about it."
"I enjoyed it," she said. "After what I do in a day's time, waiting tables was a vacation."
He only nodded. His eyes fell to her mouth, lingering there. "I thought I was playing a pat hand, but you had all the aces, didn't you, honey?"
"I had to have the mineral leases," she said simply. "My expansion plans depend on them."
"There are mineral leases available all over the western states, including Arizona, if you're after moly. You are, aren't you?" he added with keen perception, watching her face give the show away. "Why didn't you just go to Arizona in the first place?"
"Because you weren't there," she said flatly, her eyes flashing.
"That's right," he replied. "You weren't after leases, you wanted my neck in a noose. You think you've managed to maneuver it there. But you don't know how strong a hold I have on my board of directors, or how hard I'm willing to fight to keep control of them." He smiled slowly. "I like a good fight. Come on, honey. You want my company, come and get it. But I play hardball."
"So do I," she returned with a calm smile. "Henry taught me how."
The mention of her late husband hardened his face. "He had the killer instinct," he said softly. "So do I. But I don't think you do, little Meredith. It takes more than your married name to spook me."
"I've got the proxies," she reminded him.
"And they've already changed hands once," he replied cheerfully. She didn't know it, but her own brother-in-law was his best ally. That made him just a little arrogant. His eyes twinkled. He was actually enjoying himself. From the bitter revelations of the night, and the worry, was emerging something else. "You never competed with me in the old days. You gave. You never took."
"Times change," she said, lifting her coffee cup.
"Count on it." He slid his hat over his dark hair, slanting it toward one eyebrow. "I won't give up and I won't give in. You've got the upper hand right now. Let's see how long you can keep it."
"I'll send you a postcard from Chicago," she drawled.
"Are you leaving right away?" he asked, letting his eyes run over her. He moved closer, looming over her deliberately, with one lean hand resting on the chair beside her shoulder. His breath stirred the hair at her forehead as he spoke. "Stick around," he whispered, tilting his head so that his mouth was poised just above hers. "I'll take you to the penthouse and we'll make love on the carpet."
"I don't want tooh!"
Her protest died as his hand found her soft breast and his thumb traced the suddenly hard nipple.
"Oh, what?" he whispered, and his mouth closed on hers while his hand claimed her with blatant possession.
She pushed backward, only to find that she was overbalanced. He held her in that vulnerable position, so that she had to cling to his neck to keep from falling. And while she clung, he kissed her, hotly, intimately, his tongue thrusting so deep into her mouth that shards of pure electricity ran into her loins and all but convulsed her.
He tore his mouth away and righted her chair, standing over her with no visible sign of emotion except for a faint, mocking smile on the lips that had bitten hers into submission.
"You're mine," he said quietly. "You always have been. You always will be. Run while you can, but you're not getting away. Not this time. I won't let go."
He turned and went out the back door, closing it firmly behind him. He meant it. Even the child wouldn't deter him. He had Meredith in his grasp, and he was going to keep her, no matter what it took. The past six years had been the purest kind of hell. He wasn't going through that again, not if it meant pulling Meredith out of her office and tying her in his house. Don would help him get her off the Tennison board and out of her office permanently. Then she was going to be his forever. In what capacity, he'd worry about later.
Blake's laughter finally got through to her as he and Mr. Smith came bouncing down the stairs and back into the kitchen. Smith lifted an eyebrow at her swollen mouth and scarlet flush.
"Ran him off, did you?" he murmured, smiling wickedly.
"He left voluntarily," she said. She got up. "His mother is asking for me. I've got to go to the hospital and see her. I promised."
"What does his mother want, do you think?" he asked.
She looked, and felt, worried. "I don't know," she said. "I'm almost certain it's something to do with you-know-who," she added so that Blake wouldn't get too curious. "I don't think she'll tell him, but I can't be sure."
"What if she does?"
Her eyes mirrored her concern. "You said yourself, we'd both better find a hole."
"I'd bet on it."
She grimaced. "Well, maybe it needn't come to that. First I've got to see what's on her mind." She looked at her watch. "Hamilton is supposed to phone me this morning. Can you call Don for me and ask him to intercede?"
"Sure thing."
"Thanks."
She kissed Blake and left Mr. Smith to feed him while she disappeared into her bedroom. She had one dress here she hadn't worna soft paisley print in silk. She put that on, fixed her hair neatly, and stepped into her hose and high heels. To beard the lioness, she might as well dress to the teeth, she told herself. It might give her more confidence than she really had.
She wouldn't allow herself to think about Cy and what he'd said, or what he'd done. Her mouth still bore the imprint of his, and she could taste him on her lips. He wanted her. That hadn't changed. But she couldn't give in to him again. She had to get Blake out of Billings, along with herself, before Cy found out the truth.
Myrna Harden was sitting up in bed, looking wan and dull-eyed. She straightened when Meredith came in the door, her whole demeanor nervous and preoccupied.
"Thank you for coming," Myrna said when Meredith stopped by the bedside. "Please, sit down."
The younger woman dropped elegantly onto the one padded chair by the bed, her chin lifted, her eyes calm and level. "What do you want?"
"Are you going to tell Cy?" Myrna asked solemnly.
"I told him to tell you that you had nothing to worry about," Meredith said stiffly. "I meant it. No, I'm not going to tell him. You're perfectly safe."
Myrna flushed. Her eyes fell to her cold, trembling hands on the sheet. "What will you do?"
"Nothing. I'll go home to Chicago, and you can get on with your life."
"And the takeover?"
Meredith's expression didn't waver. "I need those leases. I'll have them, no matter what I have to do."
Myrna studied the other woman intently. "You're very strong, aren't you?"
"Yes, thanks to you," came the terse reply. "I grew up fast when I left Billings. Being on the streets and pregnant at the age of eighteen would make most people strong, if it didn't kill them."
Myrna's eyes closed. "I've lived with it all these years," she said in a faint monotone. "I've watched my son go wild, when he wasn't brooding or working himself half to death. I've thought about you, and wondered and worried about the unborn child. Finally, I managed to forget, at times. I wasI was learning to live with it. And then you came back."
"Our sins catch up with us, isn't that the maxim?" Meredith asked quietly.
Myrna sighed, her dark eyes seeking Meredith's gray ones. "Oh, yes. And mine have. But you're making Cy pay for them. It's me you should be punishing, not him."
"Isn't that what I've done?" Meredith asked softly.
Myrna flushed, averting her gaze. "I see."
"The sins of the father, visited on the child. Or in this case, the mother," Meredith said. "I hated you. I lived for the day I could pay you back for what you'd done to me, for what you'd cost me. I thought of nothing else. When Henry died, vendetta became the very breath in my lungs, the most important thing in my life. You owe me!"
The older woman clenched her hands together and winced.
Meredith had to restrain herself forcibly. She swallowed, twisting her purse in nerveless hands as she struggled for composure. "I lost my home, my security. I lost the only man I ever loved. I lost my honor, my reputation everything! If it hadn't been for Henry Tennison, I might have lost my life."
Myrna's face looked pinched with nerves. "He adopted the child?"
"Yes," Meredith said. She looked at the purse. "Blake was the light of his life. He made it legal. On the birth certificate, he is listed as Blake's father." Remembering that eased her fear. It occurred to her that the birth certificate was her ace in the hole. No matter what claims the Hardens might make, that document would stand in any court of law. She looked up, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "To all intents, and purposes, Blake is a Tennison. So you don't have to worry that Cy might find out the truth. I won't tell him. And you won't have to."
"I thought that was what I wanted," the other woman said quietly. "Not to have my sins laid out for his inspection. But have you thought what it means? What you're denying Blake?"
Meredith nodded. "That can't be helped. It's too late."
"Cywould love him," she whispered.
Meredith caught her lower lip in her teeth. Her eyes closed. "Yes."
"Oh, Meredith," Myrna said, tears in her voice, in her eyes. "I thought Cy would get over you. I was sure he'd find someone else, get married, have children. I didn't realize howhow involved he was with you, emotionally."
"It wasn't emotional on his part," Meredith said coldly. "It was just physical attraction. Physical obsession."
"No." Myrna shifted against her pillows, looking old and frail and somehow vulnerable. "No, it's lasted far too long for that. It's in his eyes when he looks at you, even when he talks about you."
"You don't understand," she returned, leaning forward. "He came to see me, before the board meeting. He told me about your husband so that he could make me understand why he doesn't want commitment. He said that he never wanted marriage, or children. He doesn't believe that fidelity exists."
Myrna was taken aback. "He never said any such thing to me.
"You're his mother," Meredith replied. "He's very protective of you. He always was. But he was telling the truth. I was just a novelty. He knew I couldn't fit into his lifestyle, he never planned to marry me at all. You were right about that. The engagement was just a sham, to keep me with him."
"He feels something for you," Myrna said doggedly.
"Certainly. But I don't want him," she replied. "I won't spend the rest of my life being used like a company car. I have my own responsibilities and a son to raise. I'm not cut out to be Cy Harden's mistress!"
Myrna flushed, but she didn't look away. "Would you marry him, if he asked you?"
"No." She got to her feet. "He's thrown me out of his life twice now. I have no intention of inviting a third rejection."
"But he doesn't know," Myrna said fervently. "Meredith, he doesn't know about the child, about what I've done"
"And he won't." She was tired, and she felt it. Looked it. "Mrs. Harden, revenge is a stupid thing. Someone tried to tell me that, but I wouldn't listen. I wanted to get even with all of you, but now I just want to go back to my own life and get on with it as best I can. I'm sorry that I've made things hard for you, and for Cy."
"I can't believe that you're asking me for forgiveness," Myrna said quietly, "after what I've done to you."
"I have a son," Meredith said. "I'd do anything for him, anything to protect him, to spare him pain." She hesitated. "I understand."
The older woman sighed. "Yes. A mother will make any sacrifice for a much loved child. Cy was all I had. He still is. I loved him and protected him perhaps too much. My good intentions seem very selfish now, considering what I've cost him. He has to know about the child, Meredith," she said firmly. "Even if he hates me when he knows what I did. He has every right to know about his son."
"I won't tell him," Meredith said. "I told you, it's too late. It would serve no purpose except to upset Blake's life."
"I can take you to court," Myrna said recklessly. "There are chromosome tests that can prove paternity."
"Yes, but for that you'd have to have my permission, and I won't give it," Meredith told her. "I won't let Cy have my child. The two of you wanted nothing to do with me six years ago. Fine. Now I want nothing to do with either of you."
"Is it fair, to punish the child for mistakes I made?" Myrna demanded.
"Look who's talking about fairness," Meredith said in a dangerously quiet voice.
The old woman actually flinched. She lay back against her pillows, her dark eyes accusing, her strength drained. "Very well. Do what you will. But I'm going to tell Cy."
Meredith felt the fear all the way to her feet. She couldn't admit how frightened she was or show her reluctance. There was still a slim chance that Myrna was bluffing, that she might change her mind.
"Do what you want to," she said proudly.
Myrna let out a long sigh. "You can't imagine that I really want to tell my only son what a mess I've made out of his life, or what I've cost him out of misguided love?" she asked. "I'm the villain of the piece, and I'll get what's coming to me. But I won't let Cy go through life not knowing he has a son."
Meredith glared at her. "And what about Blake? What about the mess you'll be making of his life? He thinks of Henry Tennison as his father."
"Blake has the right to know his real father, doesn't he?" Myrna asked. "He might come to hate you one day, when he found out the truth."
That was a fact Meredith had already faced, but it didn't make things any easier. She clutched her purse tightly. "I won't give up my child."
"Nobody is asking that," Myrna said, her voice almost gentle. "Can't you accept that this is every bit as difficult for me as it is for you? Cy is going to hate me."
"You're his mother. He won't hate you. He'll hate me." She gave a bitter laugh. "It will give him one more reason, as if he needs it."
"He doesn't hate you, either," Myrna replied surprisingly. She smiled. "He said that he was looking forward to taking his company away from you. It was the first spark of life I've seen in him for years, as if he finally had a reason to smile."
Meredith averted her eyes. "He won't get custody."
"You sound as if you think he'll go to court the minute he finds out about Blake." Myrna sat up slowly. "Meredith, he'll know what you went through. He's not going to blame you. I think he has some idea already of how badly he hurt you. Don't paint him completely black. Even if he is my son, he isn't totally without feelings."
Meredith stared at her purse, feeling insecure, young. "Blake is all I have," she whispered.
Myrna's eyes stung with tears. The evidence of her hard-heartedness was painted on that young, tragic face, and the sight of it reduced her to sick humility.
"Meredith"
"I have to go. I" She turned and almost ran out of the room, giving Myrna the victory for this battle. She had no heart for any more fighting.
Myrna watched her go with anguish. She hadn't meant to upset the other woman so badly. Now she might bolt and take Blake, run away as she had once before. She didn't know what to do. Cy had to know, but telling him was only going to cause Meredith more pain. She was genuinely sorry for that. Her attitude toward the younger woman had changed completely over the past few weeks. She didn't like the idea of hurting Meredith any more. But the choice was well and truly out of her hands now. She had to grit her teeth and tell the truth. If Cy hated her for itwell, it would be no more than she deserved. At last she'd have it off her conscience, and one step toward putting things right would have been taken.
She picked up the telephone and dialed Cy's office number.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
» ^ «
It had been a long time since Cy Harden had worried about his mother's health. But the strained face in the hospital bed made him uneasy. Myrna looked weaker than ever, despite the fact that her doctor had just presented them with the test
results and pronounced her in the peak of health and quite ready to go home.
"This wasn't why I asked you to come," Myrna murmured as he loaded her into the car, along with her overnight case. It was almost dark by the time he'd been free to pick her up.
"It was good timing, all the same," he replied. He smiled at her as he started the car. "I'm glad it was nothing serious. You had me scared."
She averted her gaze to the window. "It was a night for surprises," she said. Her nervous fingers picked at the skirt of her silk dress. "Imagine little Meredith Ashe turning out to be the notorious Mrs. Henry Tennison."
"And I gave her a job working as a waitress for minimum wage," Cy mused, lighting a cigarette as he drove. "I don't imagine she's stopped laughing yet. Did she go to see you?"
"Yes. Thatthat's why I phoned your office."
His dark eyes narrowed. "Well?"
"It's a long story. Can it wait until we get home?"
He shrugged. "Suit yourself."
They drove the rest of the way to the elegant house in silence, while Myrna brooded and tried to work up enough courage to tell him what she'd done. Her hands were trembling as he helped her out of the car, but she knew there was no help for her now.
She had Mrs. Dougherty, the housekeeper, bring a tray of coffee to the living room. Then she sat down and waited for it to be served before she spoke to Cy about anything except routine matters.
"If it's about those proxies, you needn't worry," Cy told her when they were sipping hot black coffee from Myrna's elegant old china cups. "Meredith doesn't know it, but her own brother-in-law is undermining her. He wants her out of the corporation. He's offered me his cooperation in getting control of the outstanding stock and proxies before the board makes a final decision on the takeover bid."
Myrna frowned. "But that's not fair," she said involuntarily. "It's underhanded."
His eyebrows arched. "I thought you were Meredith's worst enemy?"
She looked down into her cup. "In many ways I have been," she said. She drew a steadying breath and glanced at her tall son, her eyes full of sadness and regret. "Cy, I've done something terribly bad."