“I’ll see if I can get his computer password.”
“No, Darcy! Just keep me posted on what gossip you hear from the other employees. I hope we have enough evidence within a few days so we can leave the company.
After Darcy went into the outer office, Kate glanced around at her surroundings and blew out a deep breath at the magnitude of her accomplishment. She’d landed a managerial position at Farrington Construction.
Then apprehension gnawed at her confidence. Would the police even consider concrete evidence from her over the Farringtons’ denials? Especially when they found out she’d misrepresented herself to get the position.
When she’d issued her theory about faulty and under-code equipment to the police, they promised to investigate thoroughly. Then she’d overheard one detective say, ‘Kate Meyers’ stepfather is a career criminal. The acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree.’ They went on to say she was probably trying to bilk the Farringtons out of millions.
Kate winced at the memory. The police had refused to consider her accusations seriously and had lumped her in with the likes of her stepfather. However, all of her life she and her brother had been walked all over. She’d learned a person had to stand up for what they believed was right. Matt’s life was worth something. He deserved justice and she was determined to convict the culprit who was responsible.
* * *
Trent strode into the massive office his grandfather refused to relinquish and eyed the elderly man with concern.
His grandfather’s flushed face indicated his blood pressure hovered in the high range. “Where were you yesterday afternoon? This is the second accident in five months…and in your department. If you can’t handle your responsibilities now, how can I expect you to take care of the business?”
“If you’re referring to yesterday, I was called away for a problem in Homestead—”
“Spare me. I know very well what you have been up to, and I know all about your womanizing. Following further in your father’s footsteps?”
Trent’s jaw hardened. “I haven’t been “womanizing” as you call it, at least not lately.”
His grandfather ignored his comment. “Next, you’ll be as bad as your blasted cousin. It amazes me that both of you are still alive with the carousing and partying kind of lifestyles you lead. I won’t have it. Do you hear me? Womanizing killed your father. I won’t let it kill you, too. If he hadn’t been out cheating on his wife, he would never have gotten into that car accident.”
Trent tensed at the memory of that painful day and the following months of grief. He straightened his shoulders and wiped that away. “What’s the problem? I’ve been working hard. Why all these accusations?”
His grandfather opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of red lace panties. He waved them in the air. “I found this bit of lace when I went into your office looking for you yesterday.”
“Well, they’re certainly not mine,” Trent said dryly.
His grandfather’s face colored almost as red as the sexy thing dangling from his fingertips.
Fearing the elderly man could have a stroke at any moment, Trent held out his hands. “Calm down. Someone placed it there as a practical joke. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Sure,” his grandfather said, sarcastically. He rocked back in the leather chair, his hands clasped tightly before him. “I can’t help but be upset with Mac burning his hands. Thank God he’ll be okay but OSHA will be at the site again.”
“I expect that. They’ll search for anything they can, but we have gone by the letter of the law. You don’t need to worry.”
“Damn it, we don’t need any more delays for the Karger project. I’m beginning to doubt my judgment, trusting you with such a large project. We’ve taken considerable loans out to build the damned thing. It’s given us nothing but problems. And that young man getting killed…” His grandfather ran his hand down his weathered face.
“Don’t blame yourself. If anyone is to blame, it’s me,” Trent said because a day didn’t go by in which he didn’t think about Matt Jackson, and relive the guilt.
His grandfather’s steely gaze leveled on Trent. “I’ve been expecting you to uphold your end, damn it. You were to be in charge of that site.”
“I was called away—”
“Save it. I’ve already spoken with the men involved in the accident. One man claims he placed a Lockout-tagout on the switch. The other claims there wasn’t one when he turned on the power. Now which one is telling the truth?”
“I have everything under control. I visited the site this morning.”
James Farrington wagged his gray eyebrows. “No, Trent, until I retire, I’m the one in control here. I suppose it’s my fault for not instilling in you your duty. I spoiled you when you lost your father. As for your mother, that’s a different story, but this company’s not under your control until I say so. And damn Roland… Yesterday, he showed up after lunch, three sheets to the wind.” His grandfather banged his fist on the desk again. “I’m no fool. Roland is a lost cause.”
At thirty-seven, Trent’s only cousin, Roland, spent most of his time at the casinos or the track. The last time Trent had seen the man, two attractive women had been clinging to his arms even though his cousin had grown paunchy and at the time was beyond drunk. Women tended to overlook those things with an heir to a fortune.
“Trent, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss your father. Thank God, I have my grandsons… But I need them to be able to carry on our legacy.”
“I know it looks bad that both accidents on the site were under my watch. There won’t be any more, even if I have to stand guard over the job site myself. But all that aside, you need to think of retiring.”
His grandfather raised a gray eyebrow. “You want to control the company?”
Trent blew out a deep breath. “I don’t want the business to kill you.”
His grandfather coughed and put a hand over his heart. “My doctor says I need to take it easy, that stress could take a toll. My heart isn’t what it used to be—”
“Then you need to retire. You’ll still have your hands in Farrington Enterprises, but turn over the construction company to me.”
“I’d consider retiring and letting you step in as president, but the deal…your marriage.”
“You’re going too far by forcing that on me.”
The older man pierced Trent with his blue eyes and closely examined him as if he were a bug under a microscope. “You seem determined not to marry, but I need to know the family line will continue. Just because your parents had an unhappy marriage doesn’t mean you will,” he said perceptively.
Trent’s shoulder muscles bunched as he strode to the window. He braced his hands on the sill and stared over the city without seeing it. “Yes, they were not particularly happy.”
His parents had fought a lot and often the fights were about him.
Then his father had died when Trent was nine. After that, his mother either grew bored with motherhood, or she found it too painful to be around him. Maybe he reminded her too much of his father.
Never affectionate, his mother’s parties and social life had always trumped any needs he had as a child. His mother had grown up pampered, with plenty of money from her own wealthy parents. After his father died, as a rich widow, she decided to travel the world. She dumped Trent at a boarding school in England. Before she left, she had pinched his cheek and asked him to forgive her. She said she had to go away to heal, but even at the time he didn’t believe she’d really come back for him.
When his grandfather had heard she’d exiled him so far away from home, he’d immediately brought Trent home to live in his house permanently and he’d personally overseen Trent’s upbringing and education. Trent was much happier with his grandfather and grandmother than living in boarding schools.
“A good marriage will give your life stability,” his grandfather said.
Trent returned to the chair across from his grandfather’s
desk. “Is there really such a thing as a good marriage?” He didn’t know if he was cut out for marriage because perhaps there was a wild streak running in his genes, just like his father’s.
His grandfather picked up the gold-framed picture of his wife that he always kept on his desk. His coloring had returned to a more normal hue. “Your grandmother was the love of my life. Sometimes love comes by only once… Twice if you’re lucky.” There weren’t too many soft sides to his grandfather, but talking about Trent’s grandmother always brought out one of them.
“I miss her, too, but life’s not that simple anymore,” Trent reminded him.
“Marriage made me happy. It will make you happy, too.”
“One day, I might find the right woman,” Trent agreed, but hell, he didn’t really believe such a thing would happen. But he’d humor the old man if it encouraged him to retire because that could save his life.
“I’ll tell you what your problem is, Trent. You’re not going to find ‘the right one’ with the type of women you see.” His grandfather had a point as Trent definitely avoided marriage-minded women.
However, he wasn’t going to have his life decided for him. “Sorry, but marriage I won’t do. Not until I’m ready. Besides, I haven’t met anyone I’d want to marry.”
“You’re the last to carry the Farrington name. You want to inherit control of this company, don’t you? Those days of your carrying on with women, even in your office, and under my nose,” he said, slapping the flat of his hand on his desk, “are over.”
“I haven’t done that in years.”
His grandfather snorted in disbelief and dangled the red lace panties. “Crotch-less,” he said before dropping them in the waste can.
Trent had no idea how the panties had gotten into his office, but he could guess who had planted them—Cecilia. “You’ve got one month to give me an answer about my deal, or I’ll consider selling the company. This company is important to me and I won’t let my undeserving grandsons cause the family’s work to come tumbling down.”
Trent’s jaw tightened, but he held his simmering anger in check. He didn’t think for one moment that the old man would sell. However, he didn’t want to push his grandfather into his grave either. For as hard as the man could be over any problems concerning the business, Trent loved him dearly. He owed his grandfather everything, for the home he’d given Trent and for being the family Trent needed when he lost both a father and a mother.
His grandfather laid his hand over his chest and gasped twice as if out of breath.
“Are you going to be okay?”
His grandfather waved Trent away with his hand and nodded. “The doctor said no stress… I’ll be okay if I get some rest.”
“Then I’d better leave, but I’ll consider what you’ve said.” Trent stalked toward the door.
“I have something else to say.”
Trent turned and folded his arms over his chest. “Yes, what is it?”
“I’ve hired someone I want you to meet,” his grandfather said in a voice considerably calmer. “Dr. Kate Meyers will be our new Human Resources Manager.” He extended his hand. “Her resume.”
Trent strode back to the desk and scanned the resume. “She’s a psychologist?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yes. And I want you to consider discussing some of the problems you have with women, with her.”
“I don’t have any problems with women,” Trent ground out.
His grandfather snorted. “I might even send Roland to her. Maybe she can figure out what the hell is wrong with my grandsons.”
It would be a cold day in hell before Trent talked to a psychologist about his life. They’d tried to pull that stunt on him after his father died. He had refused to say one word about his family and they’d finally given up. There was nothing wrong with his mind, and he was perfectly content with his life. He didn’t need a shrink to figure him out, and he didn’t want a faithless wife.
The intercom buzzed. “Dr. Meyers is here, Mr. Farrington.”
A moment later, the cool tempered woman Trent had met earlier in the lobby walked into the office, wearing her frumpy suit and her golden hair in that tight bun––like something his older secretary, Mrs. Nash, would wear.
So they were to be introduced.
Was the haughty plain Jane to be their new Human Resources Manager and also hired to help him work out what his grandfather thought were his personal problems? The only real problem he had, other than the business, was an old man trying to run his life.
His grandfather rose from his desk. “Dr. Meyers, this is my grandson, Trent Farrington.”
Looking down his nose, Trent studied her, then he rechecked her application. He frowned. Thirty-four years old? She certainly held her age well––she didn’t look a day over twenty-four. What he could see of her skin looked as fresh as a newly bloomed rose. His gaze focused on her perfect little shell of an ear with the pearl earring. He narrowed his eyes. Something didn’t ring true about her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Farrington,” she said in a cool voice.
Trent gave her a lazy nod and watched closely. His name hadn’t produced the effect he’d come to expect. Instead of dollar signs lighting up in her eyes, she gave him a disdainful look.
It was hard to be certain with those thick glasses. However, she had gray eyes—like the morning mist—and clearly, contempt for him now flashed in those eyes. Why?
At his intent perusal, her full lips compressed into a grim line.
He’d been right for she couldn’t be any less intrigued by him. He almost laughed out loud. His grandfather’s latest ploy to throw another potential bride at him had backfired. You hired the wrong one this time, Grandpa.
Forcing a smile, Trent extended his hand. She seemed reluctant to place hers in his for the usual business handshake, but she did anyway. How dainty and fine-boned her hand seemed against his large, tanned one.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Dr. Meyers,” Trent said in a mocking voice, making it evident he thought otherwise. He released her hand.
She didn’t appear rattled by his cold greeting. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to working here,” she returned in a voice as cool as his.
However, when her lips curved in a warm, dazzling smile that she bestowed on his grandfather, Trent’s breath caught in his throat. Mesmerized by her mouth, he had to mentally shake himself and consider the fact: She was perfectly congenial to his grandfather, but not to him.
“Take a few moments to get acquainted,” his grandfather said, excusing himself. “I’ll be back.”
Trent’s shoulders stiffened. “Take a seat, Dr. Meyers.” He swept his hand toward the leather couch and two chairs. She chose a chair, but instead of relaxing, her delicate figure sat ramrod straight in front of him.
His grandfather’s scheming to get them alone did not amuse Trent either. In fact, he was already sick to death of the women hired to work at the company—rather, to be his potential wife. It was time to let Dr. Meyers know that he wouldn’t be led around by a ring in his nose, not by anyone.
Trent strode to her and put one hand on the arm of the chair and the other on the back of it. However, when he breathed in her fresh scent, he almost forgot what he’d intended—to be somewhat intimidating.
He thrust his face close to hers and said in his most biting tone, “So, my grandfather tells me that you’re a shrink.”
CHAPTER THREE
When Trent Farrington leaned over her, Kate inhaled the scent of his cologne that mingled with the smell of the new leather chair in his grandfather’s office. Her heartbeat quickened. Was he deliberately trying to intimidate her? Kate swallowed her nerves and lifted her chin. Surely he couldn’t suspect her of anything—at least not yet.
He studied her, his dark eyes glittering. Clearly, the man didn’t like therapists. She longed for a glass of cold water for her parched throat.
Kate returned his direct stare and ignored his rude stateme
nt. “Yes, I am a psychologist.” She hated to lie, but she’d gotten herself into this situation and needed him to buy into her story.
Abruptly, Farrington straightened and stepped back from her. He glanced over her resume again and then his gaze met hers. “Dr. Meyers, you look barely old enough to have finished college.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” she pointed out. Wasn’t that the situation with him, she thought dryly—handsome on the outside, ugly on the inside?
He moved away and dropped down on the sofa, then his dark gaze locked on her. A muscle in his jaw twitched. When he turned his attention back to her resume, Kate sighed and relaxed her shoulders. The seconds ticked by. Only the hum of the computer and the ringing of a distant telephone broke the silence.
He stabbed her with his gaze. “If part of your job description is to psychoanalyze me, you can be assured it won’t happen.”
“But your grandfather didn’t mention psychoanalyzing you,” she blurted out. Then she bit her lip. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m here to hire personnel and nothing more.” The man was arrogant and offensive. With her hatred for him, would she be able to pull off being so close to him and keep her anger to herself? “Being a psychologist wasn’t a requirement, but your grandfather thought my background would provide helpful insights into anyone hired to work at the company.”
“I see.” Trent Farrington’s arched eyebrow indicated he didn’t believe her. Once again, he lowered his gaze to her resume. Farrington continued to read, his dark head bent over the papers.
He shifted and leaned back on the leather sofa. He was extremely masculine, and held an air of casual elegance. Although impeccably dressed in a suit, with his athletic build he seemed the kind she’d expect to run into on the construction site, not working in the offices. He exuded a dangerous sensual quality that no doubt appealed to women.
Disguised with the Millionaire (Dangerous Millionaires Series Book 2) Page 4