by Linda Turner
“The stock is still nose-diving,” her mother said flatly. “Evidently whatever your father is doing to pull us out of this rut isn’t going over very well with the stockholders. They’re still jumping ship like passengers on the Titanic, right into Monica’s waiting arms.”
Rocky winced at the mere mention of the legendary screen star Monica Malone. Famous for her beautiful skin, she’d endorsed Fortune Cosmetics for years, but now, for reasons known only to herself, she was bent on a vengeful takeover of the company. “Kate’s probably rolling over in her grave. If we could just get the formula finished, share prices would go through the roof and she wouldn’t be able to touch us. What about Mr. Devereax?” she asked.
Hired by the family after Kate’s death, Gabriel Devereax was a private investigator with impeccable credentials. “Has he found out anything more about the cause of Kate’s plane crash?”
“No,” Allie said regretfully, “but at least there haven’t been any more break-ins at the lab.”
“So the work on the formula is progressing?”
Rafe nodded. “Not as fast as everyone would like, but it’s coming along.”
Jake started to add that they had high hopes that some of the plants found at the site of the plane wreckage were the ones needed to complete the formula, but his cellular phone rang at that moment, and with a murmured excuse he moved to the end of the hall to answer it. “Hello?”
“I need to see you.”
The caller didn’t identify herself, but then again, she didn’t have to. Monica Malone, even now, when she was well past her prime, had a cool, sexy voice that was still recognizable the world over.
A lesser man might have dropped the phone or at the very least found himself tripping over his tongue. Jake didn’t even blink. Turning away so that his family wouldn’t overhear any of the conversation, he said coldly, “I don’t know how you got this number, but I can’t think of a single thing the two of us have to discuss. So if you’ll excuse me—”
“What about a little matter of a few hundred thousand shares of stock?” she asked, her voice soft, taunting. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about why I bought them? Or what I’m going to do with them?”
He was, of course, but he had no intention of telling her that. “They’re your shares, Monica. You can do whatever you like with them.”
“Then maybe I’ll dump them first thing in the morning, when the market opens. All of them,” she added sweetly. “Just to see how they tumble.”
His mouth grim, Jake just barely swallowed an oath. She’d do it, he thought furiously. Just for the hell of it, she’d start a panic that would send prices right down the toilet. “What do you want, Monica?”
“A meeting with you at my place in twenty minutes,” she said smugly. “Don’t be late.”
“I can’t, dammit! I’m at the hospital—my daughter’s having a baby.”
“That’s not my problem. See you, sweetie.”
Jake cursed her, but it was already too late. She’d hung up.
“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” Speaking to him directly for the first time in weeks, Erica looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You can’t be serious. Caroline hasn’t had the baby yet.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he said curtly. “But something’s come up—an unexpected business meeting. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“But surely you can put it off, Dad,” Allie said with a frown. “Just for another hour or so. The doctor said it wouldn’t be long now.”
“And Caroline will be so hurt if you’re not here when the baby’s born,” Rocky pointed out quietly. “Can’t you let someone else handle this for you?”
He would have given his right arm to let someone—anyone—take this for him, but he couldn’t take the chance. Not with Monica. She was up to something, and he didn’t trust anyone but himself to find out what it was. “Not this time,” he replied, kissing her cheek, then Allie’s and Natalie’s. “Tell your sister I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He turned then, without sparing Erica a glance, but that didn’t stop her from voicing her opinion. “Don’t bother,” she muttered bitterly. “Caroline won’t need you then.”
If Jake heard her, he gave no sign of it. Tall and distinguished, he strode down the hall as if he owned the place and stepped into the elevator. Long after the doors closed and he disappeared from view, Erica silently stared after him with sad, disillusioned eyes.
Giving Rocky a pointed look, Allie motioned her over to the coffeemaker set up in the corner. “They’ve been this way for weeks now,” she said in a low voice. “Snipping and snapping at each other like a couple of kids, with neither one willing to give an inch. We’ve got to do something.”
Rocky agreed. At first she’d tried to convince herself that a temporary separation wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. That it might give her parents the space they both needed to realize that their marriage was worth fighting for. But weeks had passed, and the situation obviously wasn’t getting any better. If anything, her mother seemed more bitter than ever.
“Why don’t you talk to Dad when he gets back, and Nat and I’ll see if we can get Mother to cut him some slack,” Allie suggested. “Between the three of us, maybe we can make them see reason.”
It sounded good, but Rocky only had to look at her mother’s set face to know that she and her sisters could talk until they were hoarse, but if her parents weren’t ready to resolve their differences one-on-one, they weren’t going to get anywhere.
“We can try,” she told her sister, “but I don’t really think it’s going to do much good. This is a husband-and-wife problem, one they have to solve between the two of them, and neither of them seems ready to do that.”
Somber, Allie had no choice but to agree.
Monica answered the door to her mansion in the exclusive Lakeview subdivision herself, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across her mouth at the sight of Jake standing impatiently on her front porch. “You came,” she purred. “Somehow I thought you would.” Stepping back, she motioned him inside, wicked amusement glinting in her famous violet eyes when he hesitated on the threshold. “Contrary to what you may have heard, Jake, I don’t bite. Come in…unless, of course, you’d rather have this discussion in full view of anyone who passes on the street. It makes little difference to me. I aim to please.”
Jake sincerely doubted that. From what he knew of the lady—and that was using the term loosely—she was demanding and selfish and never pleased anyone but herself. He didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her.
He looked her up and down. He’d never seen a woman more decked out for trouble. It was the middle of the afternoon, but she wore silk lounging pajamas and a string of diamonds fit for a queen. And she looked damn good in them. She had to be seventy if she was a day, but her figure was still lush, her hair a natural-looking blond, her face, though finely lined, ageless.
If she’d been anyone else but Monica Malone, Jake might have appreciated her beauty, but she’d caused his family nothing but trouble, and he wanted nothing to do with her. Stepping across the threshold, he waited until she shut the door, then said coldly, “All right, you got me here. What do you want?”
“How about a drink first?” she said easily, crossing the foyer with languid grace to lead him into the formal living room. “What would you like?”
He didn’t want a drink. Hell, he didn’t even want to be here, but he could see that Monica had her own agenda and wouldn’t be rushed. Struggling for patience, Jake sighed and shrugged out of his overcoat. Like it or not, he was going to be here awhile. “Scotch and water.”
“That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” she said with a sultry smile as she moved to the well-stocked drink cart parked at the end of the couch. “Please…have a seat. Relax. We don’t have to be enemies, Jake. All I want to do is talk to you.”
Even as he watched her warily, Jake had to give her credit. She was a damn good actress. If he hadn’t known she
was trying to steal the company right out from under him and his family, he might have believed she was as sweet as Polyanna. What the devil was she up to?
On guard, he avoided the couch and sank down onto one of the French provincial chairs that were invitingly grouped around it. Taking his drink with a curt “Thank you,” he said, “Okay, so talk. To what do I owe the honor of this command visit?”
Not the least bit offended, she laughed and sank down on the arm of his chair. “Now, Jake, don’t be that way. I didn’t actually command you to come over here.”
She was so close, her hip nudged his arm. Alarm bells clanging in his head, Jake stiffened. Her scent was spicy, exotic, and guaranteed to knock a man out of his shoes. And just that quickly, he knew what she’d called him over here for. Now all he had to do was find out why.
“Let’s just say you made it difficult for me to turn you down,” he replied, grabbing her hand when she reached out to trail a slender finger down his cheek. Over her ring-laden fingers, his hard eyes locked with hers. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me, Monica. You want to tell me why, or do I have to guess?”
A sexy smile played with the corners of her red lips. “If you have to ask, I must not be doing it right. Isn’t the reason obvious, darling? I’m attracted to you.”
“Bull.” He could have been more diplomatic, but just the thought of her coming on to him turned his stomach. Setting his drink down with a snap on the coffee table, he surged to his feet and put half the length of the room between them with three long strides. His aristocratic features dark with dislike, he turned to face her. “Cut the crap, lady. You have to want something awfully bad to pull this little seduction stunt, so why don’t you just cut to the chase and tell me what it is? I haven’t got time for this kind of garbage.”
Monica didn’t so much as flinch, but she could do nothing to stop the flush of hot, embarrassed color that surged into her cheeks. The glint in her violet eyes suddenly hard and ugly, she rose stiffly and faced him with a sinister smile. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take time, darling. One wrong word from me and you could be ruined by sunset.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” he retorted. “By going to Erica with this? Go ahead. She might not be talking to me right now, but she knows I would never do anything to jeopardize the family or the business. And you’re a threat to both.”
Reaching for his drink, she said, “You’re damn right I am. You just don’t know how much.”
Something in her confident tone made his gut clench. He didn’t know what she thought she had on him, but she damn sure didn’t sound like she was bluffing. “Then why don’t you tell me?” he suggested. “You’re obviously dying to.”
She hesitated, pretending to consider, but Jake wasn’t fooled. Whatever she thought she knew, she’d called him here to tell him, and there was no way in hell she was going to let him walk out on her without hitting him with it. Finally making up her mind, she sank back down onto the chair he’d just vacated and motioned toward the couch. “I suggest you sit down, Jake,” she said flatly. “You’re not going to like this.”
He only snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ll be the judge of that. Just spit it out, for God’s sake!”
Her eyes locking with his, she did. “Ben Fortune wasn’t your father.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” she taunted softly. “Think about it, Jake. Can you honestly stand there and tell me that you never thought about it? Never wondered why you looked nothing like Ben? Or why he always seemed to favor Nathaniel and your sisters over you? For heaven’s sake, your birthday’s six months after Kate and Ben married. Do you really think he would have waited that long to marry her if she’d been carrying his child?”
Her words hit him like the flicks of a whip, cutting right to the bone. Staring at her, he wanted to yell at her to stop, but deep inside, something cracked…memories, long-forgotten whispers that he’d locked away and refused to examine too closely. A sense that he never quite belonged. A father who loved him but always seemed to be holding a part of himself back.
Dear God, could it really be true? And if Ben wasn’t his father, who was?
“His name was Joe Stover,” Monica said, reading his mind. “He was a GI killed in the war, before you were born. Now look me in the eye and tell me I’m lying.”
He couldn’t, God help him, but he had no intention of letting her see just how shaken he was. “That’s an interesting theory, but I haven’t got time for fairy tales right now. If that’s all you called me over here for, I’ve got to get back to the hospital—”
“You walk out that door, and I’ll call the press before you reach the street,” she said icily. “I mean it, Jake. Tomorrow, headlines all over the country will tell the world that you’re not Ben Fortune’s son. And that means that you’re not his real heir. Nathaniel is, and once he hears about this, he’ll walk in and take over, and there won’t be a damn thing you can do about it.”
That stopped him in his tracks as nothing else could have. He had no great love for the business and could have walked away from it without a backward glance…but not if that meant turning it over to Nathaniel, who had never made any secret of the fact that he thought he could run the company better than Jake did. For as long as Jake could remember, the two of them had competed over everything from who was smarter and the better athlete to who was the more loved by their parents. Just because Kate and Ben—whether he was his real father or not—were now dead, that didn’t mean anything had changed.
Reaching for his overcoat so that he wouldn’t give in to the temptation to strangle Monica, he turned to face her, his jaw rigid with barely suppressed fury as his gaze met hers. “All right, you’ve got my attention. I don’t know if you’re right or wrong, and frankly, I don’t give a damn. But the family doesn’t need this right now. So what’s it going to take to shut you up, Monica? Money? My first born grandchild? Name your price, dammit!”
“Shares, sweetheart,” she purred. “I want you to sell me some of your shares in the company.”
“Oh, Sterling, look at her!” Kate whispered. “Isn’t she beautiful? And they named her after me. Lord, I wish I could hold her.”
“Don’t even think it,” Sterling Foster said in a low, fierce whisper. They were standing in front of the newborn nursery, both of them dressed in surgical greens, complete with caps and masks, and it was all he could do not to haul Kate into the nearest stairwell. He’d done everything but hog-tie her to keep her from coming here, but from the second he told her Caroline had gone into labor, there’d been no reasoning with her. But he couldn’t stop trying. As the family lawyer and her friend, it was his duty to watch out for her, even when she thought she could take care of herself.
“Dammit, Kate, we shouldn’t even be here. The place is swarming with family. Hell, here comes Rachel—”
Swearing under his breath, he quickly turned his back on Rocky before she could get a good look at him and moved to block Kate from view. But he might as well have saved himself the trouble. A distracted look on her face, Rocky walked right past them without sparing them a glance.
“See.” Kate laughed, her blue eyes dancing. “My own granddaughter didn’t even recognize me in this getup. Relax. We’ve got it made in the shade.”
He only snorted at that. “In case you’ve forgotten, someone tried to kill you in that plane crash, and we still don’t have a clue who it was. Until we do, you’re supposed to be lying low, not paying sneak visits to the newest little Fortune.”
Unrepentant, Kate grinned. “Don’t scold, Sterling. I just had to see her for myself. Isn’t she beautiful?”
Minneapolis was full of lawyers who would have testified that Sterling Foster didn’t have a soft bone in his body—whenever a foe foolishly showed a weakness, he went for the jugular with a skill that even his enemies couldn’t help but admire. But when his penetrating blue eyes landed on the newest baby in the clan that was his adop
ted family, there was a definite softness. “She’s the spitting image of her great-grandmother. Now can we get out of here?”
The week before Christmas dragged. No one seemed to have time to get sick, and the few patients who did straggle in were just suffering from colds and allergies. Luke treated them and sent them on their way and found himself staring out the window at the hangar where Rocky should have been. Just like a high school kid suffering from his first crush, he thought irritably, turning away. Ever since she’d left, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, and he was getting damn disgusted with himself. She was right where she belonged—back in Minnesota with her family, probably in some kind of compound like the one the Kennedys owned, and far above his reach. He didn’t care if she ever came back.
Or at least that was what he tried to tell himself over the course of the next few days and nights. But the days were slow, and he had more time than he liked to think. And he found himself thinking a lot about the hot, sweet hours he’d spent with Rocky in a tiny tent in the mountains, the softness of her skin, the way her long legs had wrapped around him….
Cursing, he decided to make some much-needed repairs around the house and clinic while his patient load was low. So he went in two hours early and stayed late at work for three days, painting, then recaulking every window in his house and at the office. And he opened the clinic on Christmas Day.
He tried to convince himself it was just another day, but it didn’t feel like one. The silence was deafening. He was restless, and he should have been with family, but his mother had died right after he graduated from high school and his father had never, by his own choice, been a factor in his life. Considering the mood he was in, he didn’t want to inflict himself on friends, so while everyone else was feasting on holiday foods, he had a bologna sandwich and chips. He saw a sum total of two patients all day—a pregnant woman suffering from false labor pains and a teenager who had fallen and broken her arm while trying out a new pair of ice skates—and spent the rest of the time trying to find something to do.