The Man Behind the Pinstripes

by Melissa McClone

His words—dare Becca say excuse?—didn’t surprise her. The guy kept glancing at his watch. She’d bet five bucks he had his life scheduled down to the minute with alarms on his smartphone set to ring, buzz or whistle reminders.

  “You wouldn’t leave us on our own to figure things out.” Gertie fluttered her eyelashes as if she were some helpless female—about as helpless as a charging rhino. “You’ll have to make the time.”

  His chin jutted forward. Walking across burning coals on his hands looked more appealing than helping them. “Sorry, Grams. I can’t.”

  Good. Becca didn’t want his help any more than he wanted to give it. “We’ll find someone else to advise us.”

  Gertie grinned, the kind of grin that scientists got when they made a discovery and were about to shout “Eureka!” “Or...”

  “Or what?” Becca said at the same time as Caleb.

  “We can see if another company is interested in partnering with us.” Gertie listed what Becca assumed to be Fair Face’s main competitors.

  Caleb’s lips tightened. His face reddened. His nostrils flared.

  Well played, Gertie.

  Becca bit back a smile. Not a scientific breakthrough, but a way to break Caleb. Gertie was not only intelligent, but also knew how to get her way. That was how Becca had ended up living at the estate. She wondered if Caleb knew he didn’t stand a chance against his grandmother.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said.

  “They are my formulas. Developed with my money in my lab here at my house,” Gertie said. “I can do whatever I want with them.”

  True. But Gertie owned the privately held Fair Face.

  Becca didn’t need an MBA from a hallowed ivy-covered institute to know Gertie’s actions might have repercussions.

  Caleb rested his hands on the back of the chair. One by one, his fingers tightened around the wood until his knuckles turned white.

  Say no.

  Becca didn’t want him to advise them. She and Gertie needed help starting a new business. But Becca would rather not see Caleb again. She couldn’t deny a physical attraction to him. Strange. She preferred going out with a rough-around-the-edges and not-so-full-of-themselves type of guy. Working-class guys like her.

  Being attracted to a man who had money and power was stupid and dangerous. Men like that could ruin her plans. Her life. One had.

  Of course, Caleb hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her. He wouldn’t. He would never lower his standards. Except maybe for one night.

  No, thanks.

  Becca wanted nothing to do with Caleb Fairchild.

  * * *

  Caleb was trapped, by the patio furniture and by his grandmother. This was not the way he’d expected the meeting to go. He was outnumbered and had no reinforcements. Time to rein in his grams before all hell broke loose.

  He gave her a look, the look that said he knew exactly what she was doing. Too bad she was more interested in the tail-wagging, paw-prancing dogs at her feet. No matter, he knew how to handle Grams. Her so-called consultant was another matter.

  Becca seemed pleased by his predicament. She sat with her shoulders squared and her lips pursed, as if she were looking for a fight. Not exactly the type of behavior he would have expected from a consultant, even a dog one.

  He would bet Becca was the one who talked Grams into making the dog products. Nothing else would explain why his grandmother had strayed from developing products that had made her and Fair Face a fortune.

  It had to be Becca behind all this nonsense.

  The woman was likely a con artist looking to turn this consulting gig into a big pay off. She could be stealing when Grams wasn’t paying attention. Maybe a heist of artwork and jewelry and silver was in the works. His wealthy family had always been a target of people wanting to take advantage of them. People like Cassandra. Grams could be in real danger.

  Sure, Becca looked more like a college student than a scammer. Especially wearing a “No outfit is complete without dog hair” T-shirt and jean shorts that showed off long, smooth, thoroughbred legs.

  She had great legs. He’d give her that.

  But looks could be deceiving. He’d fallen for Cassandra and her glamorous façade.

  Not that Becca was glamorous.

  With her short, pixie-cut brown hair and no makeup she was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. If he’d ever had a next-door neighbor whose house wasn’t separated by acres of land, high fences and security cameras.

  But Becca wasn’t all rainbows and apple pie.

  Her blue eyes, tired and hardened and wary, contradicted her youthful appearance. She wasn’t innocent or naïve. Definitely not one of the princess types he’d known at school or the social climbers he knew around town. There was an edge to her he couldn’t quite define, and that...intrigued him.

  Worried him, too.

  He didn’t want anyone taking advantage of Grams.

  Speaking of which, he faced his grandmother. “It’s not going to work.”

  Grams glanced up from the dogs. The five animals worshipped at her feet as if she were a demigod or a large slice of bacon dressed in pink. “What’s not going to work, dear?”

  A smile tugged on the corners of Becca’s mouth, as if she were amused by the situation.

  Caleb pressed his lips together. He didn’t like her.

  Any consultant with an ounce of integrity would have taken his side on this. But what did he expect from a woman who wore sports sandals with neon-orange-and-green toenail polish to work? He bet she was covered with tattoos and piercings beneath her clothing.

  Sexy images of her filled his mind.

  Focus.

  He rocked back on his heels. “If you partner with one of Fair Face’s competitors, the media will turn this into a firestorm. Imagine how the employees will react. You’re the creative influence behind our products. How will you reconcile what you do for one company with the other?”

  “Animal products for them. Human products for Fair Face.” A sheepish grin formed on Grams’s lips. “It was only a thought.”

  A dog tried to get his attention, first rubbing against Caleb’s leg then staring up at him. Seemed as if everyone was giving him the soulful-puppy-look today. “A ploy.”

  Grams tsked. “I can’t believe you think I’d resort to such a tactic.”

  Yeah, right. Caleb remembered looking at what colleges to attend and Grams’s reaction. Naval Academy, too dangerous. Harvard, too far. Cal Berkeley, too hippy. She’d steered him right where she’d wanted him—Stanford, her alma mater. “I’m sure you’d resort to worse to get your way.”

  That earned him a grin from Becca.

  Glad someone found this entertaining. Though she had a nice smile, one that made him think of springtime and fresh flowers. An odd thought given he had little time to enjoy the outdoors these days. Maybe it was because they were outside.

  “I shouldn’t have to resort to anything,” Grams said. “You promised your grandfather you’d take care of us.”

  Something Caleb would never forget.

  That promise was directing the course of his life. For better or worse given his grandmother, his sister, Fair Face and the employees were now his responsibility. He grimaced. “I’m taking care of you the best way I know how.”

  Grams rubbed a gray dog named Blue, but she didn’t say a word.

  He knew this trick, using silence to make him give in, the way his grandfather had capitulated in the past. But Caleb couldn’t surrender. “Grams—”

  “Gertie, didn’t you mention the other day how busy Fair Face keeps your grandson?” Becca interrupted. “It might be better to find someone else to help us, since Caleb is so busy.”

  Whoa. Becca wanted to be his ally?

  That sent Caleb’s hinky-meter shooting into
the red zone. No one was that nice to a total stranger. She must want him out of the way so she could run her scam in peace.

  “Good idea,” he said, playing along. Maybe he could catch Becca in a lie or trip her up somehow. “I’m not sure I’d have a few minutes to spare until the baby product line launches, if then. You know how it is.”

  “Yes, I do.” Grams tapped her fingers against her chin. “But I like keeping things in the family.”

  So much for taking her formulas to a competitor. “You wouldn’t want me to ignore the company, would you?”

  His grandmother’s gaze narrowed as if zooming in on a target—him. “Who’s trying to guilt who now?”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”

  “Maybe Caleb knows someone who can help us,” Becca said.

  He would rather his grandmother drop this whole thing, but once Grams saw what starting her own business entailed, she would decide retirement was a better alternative. He would get someone he trusted to advise them, someone to keep an eye on Becca, someone to steer his grandmother properly. Caleb would still be in control, by proxy. “I’m happy to give you a few names. I know one person who would be a good fit.”

  “I suppose it’s worth a try,” Gertie said.

  “Definitely worth a try.” Enthusiasm filled Becca’s voice. “We can do this.”

  We? Us? Caleb straightened. Becca acted more like a partner. He needed to talk to his grandmother about what sort of contract she had with her “consultant.” Something about Becca bothered him. She had to be up to no good. “I’ll text you the names and numbers, Grams.”

  “Send Becca the list. As you said, I’m a chemist not a businesswoman.”

  “Will do.” Caleb glanced at his watch, bent and kissed his grandmother’s cheek. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I need to get back to the office.”

  Grams grabbed hold of his hand. Her thin fingers dug into his skin. “You can’t leave. You haven’t had any cake.”

  The carrot cake. Caleb had forgotten, but he couldn’t forget the pile of work waiting for him on his desk. He checked his watch again.

  “Gertie baked the carrot cake herself. You need to try a piece.” Becca’s voice sounded lighthearted, but her pointed look contained a clear warning. Caleb had better stay if he knew what was good for him.

  Interesting. The consultant was being protective of his grandmother. Usually that was his job. Becca’s concern could be genuine or a ruse—most likely the latter—but she was correct about one thing. Eating a slice of cake wouldn’t take that long. No reason to keep disappointing Grams. He could also use the opportunity to ask his grandmother for more information about her dog consultant.

  Caleb placed his arm around his grandmother. “I’d love a piece of your cake and a glass of iced tea.”

  * * *

  Dogs raced around Becca, jumping and barking and chasing balls. She stood in the center of the lawn while Gertie went into the house to have Mrs. Harrison prepare the refreshments.

  Playing with the dogs was more fun than sitting with Caleb on the patio. Becca saw no reason to make idle chitchat with a man eager to eat his cake and get out of there. At least, she couldn’t think of one.

  She much preferred four-footed, fur-covered company to dismissive CEOs. Dogs were her best friends, even when they were a little naughty.

  “You’re a mess, Blue.” Becca picked strands of grass and twigs from the Kerry blue terrier’s gray hair. “Let’s clean you up before Gertie returns.”

  Dogs—no matter a purebred like Blue or a mutt like Dozer—loved to get dirty. Gertie didn’t mind, but Becca tried to keep the dogs looking half decent even when playing.

  Blue licked her hand.

  Bending over, she kissed his head. “Such a good boy.”

  “You like dogs.”

  Becca jumped. She didn’t have to turn around to know Caleb was right behind her, but she glanced over her shoulder anyway. “I love dogs. They’re my life.”

  His cool gaze examined her as if she were a stock he was deciding to buy or sell, making her feel exposed. Naked.

  Her nose itched. Her lungs didn’t want to fill with air.

  He stepped forward to stand next to her. “Your life as a dog consultant?”

  “Gertie came up with that title,” Becca said. “But I am a dog handler, groomer and certified vet tech.”

  “A jill of all trades.”

  That was one way to look at it. Desperate to make a living working with animals and to become a full-time professional dog handler was another. “When it comes to animals, particularly dogs.”

  Snowy and Maurice chased each other, barking. Dozer played tug-of-war with Hunter, a thirteen-inch beagle, growling. Blue sat at Becca’s feet, waiting. “I need to put the dogs in the kennel.”

  Confusion clouded Caleb’s gaze. He might as well have spoken the question on his mind aloud.

  “Yes, Gertie has a kennel.”

  “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “Your face.” Becca almost laughed. “I’m guessing you don’t play a lot of poker. Unless you prefer losing money.”

  Caleb looked amused, not angry. That surprised her.

  “Hey,” he said. “I used to be quite good.”

  “If the other players were blind.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Well, you don’t have much of a poker face.”

  At least not with his grandmother. Or with Becca.

  He puffed out his chest. “We’re not playing cards. But you’re looking at a real card shark.”

  She liked his willingness to poke fun at himself. “I believe you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Heat rushed up her neck. “Okay, I don’t.”

  “Honest.”

  “I try to be.” He wasn’t talking about poker any longer. She picked up one of the balls. “It’s important to play fair.”

  Caleb’s eyebrow twitched. “Do you have a good poker face?”

  “You realized I didn’t believe you, so probably not.”

  “No aces up your sleeve?”

  “Not my style.”

  “What is your style?”

  “Strategy over deceit.” Becca couldn’t tell if he believed her, but she hoped he did. Because he was Gertie’s grandson, she rationalized. “That’s why I’d never sit at a poker table with you. You’re too easy to read. It would be like stealing a bone from a puppy.”

  “A puppy, huh?”

  “A manly pup. Not girly.”

  He grinned wryly. “Wouldn’t want to be girly dog.”

  His gaze held hers. Becca stared mesmerized.

  Something passed between them. A look. A connection.

  Her pulse quickened.

  He looked away.

  What was going on? She didn’t date guys like him. Even if she did, he was too much of a Boy Scout. And it was clear he didn’t like her. “I have to go.”

  “I want to see the kennel.”

  “Uh, sure.” But she felt uncertain, unsettled being near him. She pointed to the left. “It’s down by the guest cottage.”

  Caleb fell into step next to Becca, shortening his stride to match hers. “How did you meet my grandmother?”

  She called the five dogs. They followed. “At The Rose City Classic.”

  He gave her a blank stare.

  Funny he didn’t know what that was, given Gertie’s interest in dog showing. “It’s in Portland. One of the biggest dog shows on the West Coast. Your grandmother hired me to take Snowy into the breed ring. Ended up with a Group third. A very good day.”

  Blue darted off, as if he were looking for something—a toy, a ball, maybe a squirrel.

  Becca whistled for him.


  He trotted back with a sad expression in his brown eyes.

  Caleb rubbed his chin. “I have no idea what you just said.”

  “Dog show speak,” Becca said. “Snowy won third place in the Group ring. In his case, the Non-Sporting group.”

  “Third place is good?”

  “Gertie was pleased with the result. She offered me a job taking care of her dogs, including the fosters and rescues, here at the estate.”

  “And the dog skin care line?”

  “She sprang that on me after I arrived.”

  A look of surprise filled his eyes, but disappeared quickly. “Sounds like you’re a big help to her.”

  “I try to be,” Becca said. “Your grandmother’s wonderful.”

  “She is.” He looked at her. “I’d hate to see anyone take advantage of her kindness.”

  Not anyone. Becca.

  The accusation in his voice made her feel like a death row inmate. Each muscle tightened in preparation for a fight. The balls of her sandals pressed harder against the grass. She fought the urge to mount a defense. If this were a test, she didn’t want to fail. “I’d hate that to happen, too.”

  The silence stretched between them.

  His assessing gaze never wavered from hers.

  Disconcerted, she fiddled with a thread from the hem of her shorts.

  Caleb put his hand out to Dozer, who walked next to them. Funny, considering he’d ignored the dogs before.

  Dozer sniffed Caleb’s fingers then nudged his hand.

  With a tender smile, he patted the dog’s head.

  Becca’s heart bumped. Nothing was more attractive than a man being sweet to animals. A good thing Caleb’s physical appearance was pretty easy to overlook given his personality and suspicions.

  “You helped me with my grandmother,” he said. “Trying to get me out of the way?”

  At least he was direct. She wet her lips, not liking the way he raised her hackles and temperature at the same time. “It’s obvious you don’t want to work with us.”

  “I don’t have time,” he clarified.

  “There’s never enough time.”

  Dozer ran off, chasing a butterfly.

  “It’s a valuable commodity,” Caleb said.