Millionaires' Destinies

by Sherryl Woods

  Chapter Nine

  Richard tried to concentrate on the fax from his European division chairman explaining why profits were down and an intended acquisition had fallen through. Nothing in the report made a bit of sense, but maybe that was because Melanie’s image kept swimming in front of him, making the words hard to read. The woman was driving him crazy, and she hadn’t even been on his payroll for twenty-four hours yet.

  Not that the fault was entirely hers. He was the one who’d been manipulated into making her a part of his everyday world. He’d been expecting her to turn up at the crack of dawn, but so far there had been no sign of her. Maybe—if the gods who protected fools were feeling very kindly—she’d decided against accepting the job coordinating his campaign PR. Maybe she possessed more sense than he did.

  “You look a little wiped out, my friend,” Mack said, making a rare appearance in Richard’s office at what was for Mack the ungodly hour of seven in the morning.

  Richard stared at his brother. “What brings you by? I thought you preferred not to set foot in here out of fear that I might lock you into an office and put you to work for the family company.”

  “I think we established what a bad idea that would be a long time ago. I know football. I don’t give a rat’s behind about making widgets, or running restaurants or whatever else all those mysterious divisions do. I was lousy at Monopoly, if you remember. I kept selling my hotels and the land they sat on dirt cheap.”

  Richard gave his brother a wry look. “Frankly, I don’t remember you ever sitting still long enough to play board games.”

  “There were a few rainy days when Destiny wouldn’t let me outside to play football,” Mack said. “You always whipped my butt, which did not bode well for my future at Carlton Industries. I may not be the business whiz you are, but even I could read the handwriting on that wall.”

  Richard regarded him with surprise. “You steered clear of the company because I beat you at Monopoly?”

  “No, I steered clear because you love it and I don’t, the same way Destiny left it behind for our father. This business ought to be run by someone who lives and breathes it. You do. Ben and I don’t. Simple as that.”

  “Okay, if you’re not here to stake a belated claim on a corner office, why are you here?”

  “To do a postmortem on last night, of course,” Mack said with a broad grin. “How are things going for you and your new campaign advisor? I’ll bet that was a twist you never expected when you set up that dinner at Destiny’s last night.”

  “I am not up for that conversation at this hour of the morning,” Richard said, unwilling to admit how deftly he’d been maneuvered into making that decision. “I’ll see Melanie later, establish some ground rules and we’ll be okay.”

  “Will that be before or after you ask her out on another fake date?” Mack wondered aloud. “Or has the grand charade been scrapped?”

  Richard’s gaze narrowed. “Did Destiny put you up to coming in here this morning just to harangue me?”

  “Nope. I’m here on my own,” Mack insisted. “I haven’t had this much entertainment in weeks, not since some of the guys and I stopped watching The Young and the Restless during lunch in my office. Your plot’s better, by the way. I can hardly wait to see how it turns out.”

  Richard groaned. “Keep it up, Mack. You’re walking on thin ice.”

  Mack grinned, evidently undaunted by Richard’s increasingly sour mood. “I liked her,” he said. “In case you’re interested.”

  “What’s not to like?” Richard conceded. “Melanie’s attractive, bright. And she has a good sense of humor. She must if she’s willing to put up with all this craziness.”

  “Plus she’s kind to old ladies,” Mack said with a straight face.

  Richard chuckled in spite of himself. “I’d like to be around when you suggest to Destiny that she’s old.”

  Mack winced. “A slip of the tongue, I assure you. Destiny is ageless.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Richard said with some regret. “Otherwise I could pretend that this is all about senility and ignore her.”

  “I think we can agree that our aunt is crazy like a fox.” Mack’s expression sobered. “Maybe you should pay attention to her, Richard. Seems to me you could do a whole lot worse than having Melanie in your life in whatever capacity turns out to fit best.”

  “Have you forgotten? She is in my life,” Richard said, barely containing a sigh. “I’m having them clear out a little office right down the hall so she’ll have a base right here in the building. With any luck, she’ll never use it.”

  “Not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “Give it up, Mack. I have enough to contend with having Destiny sneaking around behind my back meddling. Don’t you get any ideas.”

  “Hey, bro, I’m right out in the open.” Mack’s expression turned serious. “Listen to me. I think you’re making a mistake if you don’t give the woman a chance instead of playing games just to pacify Destiny. Go out on a real date with Melanie. Get to know her. Let your defenses down for once in your stodgy life.”

  “Now I’m stodgy?”

  “You’ve always been stodgy. It’s the natural byproduct of deciding you had to be mature and responsible at the age of twelve, after Dad and Mom died. Thank God, Ben and I had you. Otherwise, we might have matured before our times as well.”

  “Whatever,” Richard said, tired of the discussion. It was hitting uncomfortably close to the truth. Even with Destiny on the scene back then, he’d felt like he had to take charge, manage things to keep them from spinning any further out of control. One minute he’d been a normal kid, the next he’d been twelve-going-on-thirty.

  “Of course,” Mack said a little too casually, “if you’re really not interested in anything personal with Melanie, I might be.”

  That damn vein in Richard’s head started throbbing again. He wondered if it was a precursor to the stroke he was likely to have before all of this insanity ended. “Stay away from her,” he said tightly. “No matter what I do or don’t do, you stay the hell away from her.”

  Mack stood up, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. “Thought so,” he gloated.

  Richard glowered at him. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re the one with the agile mind,” Mack said. “Think about it.”

  He sauntered out of the office whistling, leaving Richard to wrestle with the riddle his brother had left behind. Not that the answer was all that difficult to unravel. He just didn’t want to see it.

  Melanie passed Mack in the hallway as she was heading for Richard’s office. He greeted her with a knowing grin she couldn’t quite interpret.

  “Good morning,” she said cautiously. “Have you seen Richard?”

  “In his office,” Mack said. “You might want to give him a couple of minutes before you go in there.”

  “Is he in a meeting?”

  “Nope, just wrestling with his inner demons,” Mack said, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

  “What just happened in there, or dare I ask?” she asked, wondering if Mack took as much pleasure in stirring up Richard as he did in rattling Destiny.

  “You won’t hear it from me,” Mack said. “Brotherly loyalty and all that.” His expression sobered. “But, Melanie, try to remember something—Richard is one of the good guys.”

  “I know that.”

  “Don’t lose sight of it, no matter what happens, no matter how crazy things get around here, no matter what shenanigans Destiny is up to,” he said urgently. “Richard presents this secure facade to the world, but he needs someone in his life who can see past his rock-solid wall of defenses.”

  “I’m helping him with his campaign,” Melanie pointed out. “I’m not here for any other reason, despite what he may have told you.”

  Mack grinned. “The charade thing. Yeah, I know about that. Funny thing about charades. If you really throw yourself into one, the line between truth and fantasy starts to blur.”
/>   “Not for me,” Melanie said confidently.

  “Lucky you.” He regarded her seriously. “Or maybe not.”

  Before she could ask what he meant by that, he was gone, whistling that chipper tune again. Apparently Mack was going to prove to be as annoyingly enigmatic as the rest of the Carltons.

  Sighing, she continued on to Richard’s office, rapped on the door, then stuck her head inside. “Okay to come in? Your secretary’s not in yet.”

  Richard gave her a sour look. “She’s not in because I’m not usually bombarded by visitors at this hour.”

  Melanie refused to be daunted by his mood. “I ran into Mack in the hall. Did you two have words?”

  “Mack and I never have words,” Richard said. “He never sticks around long enough to have words. He breezes in, stirs things up and takes off.”

  So that was it. She’d suspected as much. “He seemed to be in a very good mood.”

  “Of course he was. This was one of his better hit-and-run missions.”

  “What did he want?”

  Richard’s gaze narrowed. “Did you come over here at this hour to discuss my brother?”

  “No, I came to get started on your marketing plans. All the rest is what’s known in the civilized world as conversation, idle chitchat, small talk, whatever.”

  “I don’t have time for chitchat.” He gestured at the papers on his desk. “I’ve got a major division that’s underperforming. I need to figure out why.”

  He could be telling the truth or it could be an excuse. Melanie couldn’t tell from his bland expression. “Then I’ll get out of your hair,” she said easily. “When can we talk? I want to establish a plan, a budget, that kind of thing. If you have a campaign manager, I need to meet with him. He—or she—can take a lot of this strategy stuff off your shoulders.”

  Richard closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

  “Headache?” Melanie asked sympathetically. “Little wonder, given everything you have on your plate. How about some tea? If you have a kitchen around here somewhere, I can make it before I head back to my office.”

  “You’re not here to make me tea, dammit!”

  She stared at him until he sighed.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

  “True enough,” she said, determined not to make more out of his lousy mood than necessary to make her point that she wouldn’t accept it. “Is that a yes or a no on the tea?”

  He gestured to a door across the room. “There’s a kitchen setup in the conference room. There should be some tea in there. If you don’t mind making it, I’d love some.”

  “Lemon, sugar, anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  She went into the conference room, which was paneled and elegantly furnished. A lavish arrangement of fresh flowers sat in the center of the rosewood conference table. Anyone walking into the room would know that this was a top-flight company, run by people with taste and refinement. She wondered if that was Destiny’s doing or Richard’s.

  The kitchenette had a two-burner stainless-steel stove, a matching stainless-steel refrigerator, a cupboard filled with fine china and crystal and a drawer filled with sterling silver place settings, everything necessary for entertaining well-heeled board members.

  Melanie filled a teakettle with water and put it on to boil, then searched for the tea. She found a wooden tea chest with a dozen different blends, chose a packet of Earl Grey and then put it and a porcelain cup onto a small tray. When the water was ready she filled a matching porcelain teapot, added it to the tray and returned to Richard’s office.

  Without saying a word, she poured water over the tea bag, then backed away. “I’ll wait to hear from your secretary about scheduling that meeting.”

  As she started past Richard, he snagged her hand. “I really am sorry. My head’s throbbing, I’m in a lousy mood, but that’s no excuse for biting your head off.”

  She smiled at him. “As long as you see that, there might be hope for you yet.”

  “Even I’m not too old to learn a thing or two,” he said. “As long as you’re here, why don’t you stay and we can talk over some of your ideas? I don’t have a meeting scheduled until eight-thirty.”

  “What about that pile of paperwork?”

  “It can wait. I’m not thinking clearly enough to deal with it anyway.”

  Melanie nodded and sat down. “Okay, then, here are the things we need to nail down. How much time do you want me to spend on your marketing plan? Do you want an initial strategy that can be turned over to staff, or do you want me to stay on to coordinate it? Originally we talked about some consulting on Carlton Industries marketing, as well. Is that priority or is the campaign? I don’t need answers right this second, but you do need to think about all this. I don’t want to run up a bill, unless we’ve agreed on every aspect.”

  “I appreciate that,” Richard said, regarding her with a vaguely surprised expression.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t expect you to be so…” He faltered.

  “Organized?” she suggested mildly. “Could be that first impression I made. I really am good at what I do. Destiny wasn’t wrong about that.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.” He reached for a stack of folders on the corner of his desk and passed them to her. “These are résumés for prospective campaign managers. Look ‘em over and give me some input.” He scanned his day planner. “We’ll meet again at three. I’ll be able to give you fifteen minutes, so be on time and keep it short. I’ve set up an office for you down the hall. You can use it when you’re here. If you need anything that isn’t there, tell Winifred, my secretary. She’ll see that you have it. We’ll deal with all the other issues once the campaign manager has been hired. He should be in on that meeting.”

  “Agreed,” she said at once. “I’ll see you at three, then.”

  She was almost out the door, when he called her back. “Yes?” she said.

  “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

  “Richard—”

  He cut her off before she could voice the protest. “This is business. I have to attend a fund-raiser at eight. Destiny’s co-chair. There will be a lot of people there you should get to know.” He grinned. “And it will make Destiny happy to see you with me.”

  “Then the charade’s still on?” she asked, not entirely sure how she felt about that. The dancing of her pulse suggested she was happier than she should be.

  “Of course,” he said. “We agreed to keep it up until she backs off.”

  Melanie was struck by a worrisome thought. “Have you considered what might happen if she discovers this was all a game being played out for her benefit?”

  “Believe me, letting her find out is not an option,” Richard said grimly. “That’s why we can’t let down our guard for a second. She’ll be expecting me to bring you tonight.”

  At this rate, Melanie concluded that she was going to go broke buying an appropriate wardrobe for black-tie events. “What time?” she asked, resigned.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

  Melanie nodded. “If there are more formal events like this where I’m going to be expected to show up on your arm, I’ll need more notice. I don’t have a fairy godmother who can magically make me look presentable.”

  His lips twitched. “Fair enough,” he said. “But don’t say that around Destiny. I have a hunch she’d be thrilled to be cast in the fairy-godmother role. Dressing three boys did not allow her to utilize her creative flair for fashion. No matter how ingenious the designer, a tux is still basically a tux.”

  Melanie laughed. “Yes, I imagine that could prove frustrating to a woman like Destiny.” She tapped the folders in her arms. “I’d better get busy with these.”

  Richard nodded. “See you at three, then.”

  “Right.”

  Melanie backed out of his office and closed the door behind her, then leaned against it. There had been at least three occasions in there when she’d wa
nted to dive across that massive desk of his and kiss him till his expression brightened. That would have been about as smart as nose-diving off the top of the Washington Monument.

  Now she was expected to spend yet another evening with Richard, pretending to be something more than a freelance marketing consultant, and at the end of the evening she was expected to go home—alone—and keep the man out of her dreams. If this kept up, she was going to have to talk to him about hazardous-duty pay. She could not see one single way that this was going to have anything other than a very unhappy ending.

  Melanie sifted through the pile of résumés, making notes on those she felt to be the strongest candidates for running Richard’s campaign. She also jotted on sticky notes and put them on each folder for those she considered wrong for the job. She wasn’t sure how much Richard intended to rely on her opinion or whether this was some sort of test he’d devised to see if they were on the same wavelength, but she intended to give him a thoughtful, intelligent response on each applicant.

  One or two were so inexperienced they were laughable, but most fell into the middle range, with adequate experience, bright ideas and ambition. There were three whose applications stood out. She put those folders on top, then rubbed her knotted shoulders. She’d been sitting too long. She’d skipped lunch, because she was so determined to do this assignment thoroughly and intelligently. She wanted badly to prove to Richard that he hadn’t made a mistake in hiring her as a consultant, even if his motives for doing so had nothing at all to do with her qualifications for the job.

  Becky poked her head into Melanie’s office. “Safe to come in?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  Becky came in and sat down. “Tell me again why you’re going through all those résumés.”

  “Richard asked for my input.”

  “So you immediately dropped everything to handle that?”

  “I didn’t drop everything,” Melanie said defensively. “I rescheduled a couple of appointments. No big deal. It happens all the time.”