by Dara Girard
Winifred smiled. “That’s a lovely idea.” She left.
Stephanie signaled the maid and pointed to her mother’s plate. “Take it to her in the sitting room.” When the maid left, she glared at Brooke. “I wish you would treat her with more respect.”
“Why? She wouldn’t know the difference.”
“Mom has always been rather absentminded, but she’s not a complete idiot.”
“The stress being on complete,” Brooke said under her breath. She didn’t wish to argue.
“Now what’s this about Nathan seeing you?”
“I was having a little fun.”
“Can’t you control your hormones for one minute?”
“Relax, honey, it doesn’t change anything.”
“It’s called conflict of interest.”
“There’s no conflict. We aren’t buying IE anyway. We all know we are selling Radson.”
Stephanie set down her fork. “That’s for the board to decide.”
Brooke smiled gently. “We are the board. Don’t forget, Uncle Lamar could always use the money, Mom does whatever we tell her, and Aunt Rita and Cousin Trent can easily be swayed. And then there’s us.”
“You’re forgetting Nathan and Kenneth.”
Her smile widened. “No, I’m not.”
“Like it or not, right now they’re in charge. They have a big share in the company.”
“But not big enough to fight all of us.”
Stephanie lowered her eyes and turned her plate. “They have done a lot for this company.”
“Our company. Think how much money we’ll make.”
“I don’t think Dad would have wanted us to sell.”
“Well, Dad’s dead.”
Her gaze flew up. “I’m aware of that.”
“Let’s not argue. Did you place the ad about the bracelet?” she asked softly, hoping to use guilt as a weapon of distraction.
It worked. Stephanie looked contrite. “Yes. It will run next week.”
“I’m sure someone will return it soon.”
She hesitated, then said, “You shouldn’t have let Nathan see you.”
Brooke took a sip of her drink, studying her sister. “I hope you’re still not carrying a torch for that man.”
Stephanie picked up her fork and took a bite.
“I thought I showed you years ago the type of man Nathan is. You deserve better.”
“My statement was made as a professional observation.”
Brooke relaxed, glad that Stephanie’s feelings for Nathan had passed. “Ah, but emotional is the best way to play. You’ll need to get to Kenneth before Nathan does. I’ll tell you what to say and how to approach him. Remember to appear sincere and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
“What about Nathan?”
“Don’t worry about him.” Soon he won’t be a problem at all.
* * *
Kenneth tossed down the report and swore. He glanced up at Stephanie and Nathan. “Thank you,” he said, signaling their dismissal.
Stephanie left. Nathan stayed behind.
“This is proof,” he said.
Kenneth drummed his fingers on the desk. “Proof of what?”
“That they’re dangerous. Brooke is literally in bed with the head of IE. If we’d bought them, they would have milked us dry.”
“She’s still learning. Besides, you heard Stephanie—”
“What I heard was a woman talking about her sister. Do you think she wouldn’t lie?”
“Nate, the issue is over. Brooke fell for the head after she discovered they would be a bad prospect. This is their father’s company. They wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.”
“Maybe not. But they would jeopardize you.”
“I’m doing what’s best for the company. They can’t fault me for that. They may not like me personally, but professionally we’re all working towards the same goal: maintaining the dream of Frank Radson.”
Nathan paced, jingling the change in his pocket. “If only everyone were as loyal as you.” He stopped and rested against the desk. “I know you’re letting Stephanie work on the programmer’s delay, but I’d like to let Rodney have a crack at it as well. He’s a clever kid, and everyone’s been pleased with him.”
Kenneth tapped his finger on the desk. “If it will give you peace of mind, go ahead.”
He smiled, grateful for the small victory. “Thanks. You won’t regret it.”
* * *
The raw, earthy scent of cologne first alerted Stephanie to the occupant of her office. The prickles of attraction she’d tried for months to ignore shot through her with a renewed fury when she saw Nathan sitting in the corner. It was the mixture of masculine vitality and intellectual cunning that she found so seductive. Too bad he hated her guts.
She walked to her desk. “May I help you?” she asked, using the cool voice she had perfected for all colleagues.
He stood. “Your performance was Oscar-worthy, Ms. Radson.”
“Everything was explained—”
He nodded. “Yes, the script was faultless. I congratulate you.”
He had every reason to distrust her. He was a womanizer and a cad, but she found his loyalty to the company and its CEO admirable. She had to protect her sister, but she didn’t want him to hate her. She gripped a pen, gathering her courage. “If you have any concerns, perhaps we could schedule a time to go to lunch and discuss them.”
He sent her a look of such disgust that her stomach tightened. “I’m sorry, Ms. Radson, but when I fall off a bicycle, I just get a new brand.” He spun on his heel and left.
Stephanie released her hold on the pen and let her gaze fall.
* * *
Syrah liked Denise, but thought her mother was weird. Mrs. Shelton was always cooing and awing over old junk. She took them to flea markets, rummage sales, and antique shops, acting like a food addict searching for the next buffet. Syrah strolled around Donovan’s Antique Shop while Denise tried to persuade her mother not to buy an ugly table lamp. She made sure to keep her hands in her pockets, promising herself that nothing would “accidentally” disappear. She turned down an aisle stacked with old dishes.
“So do it,” a woman said in a harsh whisper. “I’m sure you know how to cover yourself. You computer guys are so smart. Pretend to do the job for them and continue to do the job for me.”
Syrah peeked around the corner and saw Brooke talking to a skinny black guy with tiny glasses sliding down his nose. She supposed he was tall for his age, but his shoulders were so bent that she wasn’t sure.
“I’m willing to do what you want,” he said, his voice deep with anxiety. “I just want to know when—”
Her voice turned sweet. “How many times do I have to tell you not to worry?” She trailed a finger along his jaw, making him smile. “When the time is right, you’ll get what you want.” She kissed him.
Syrah jerked her head back in disgust. At least she knew Brooke would leave Uncle Kenneth alone, since she had that dork. Relieved, she turned and went outside to wait for Mrs. Shelton to drop her off at Aunt Teresa’s.
* * *
Jessie stared at the business plan in front of her: her unofficial Plan B. She had created it during her first night class. Perhaps she could run away somewhere and implement it, start fresh, create a new identity. She hastily closed the binder when she heard a key in the front door.
“I got a letter!” Syrah said, running up to her. “My very own letter!”
Teresa followed. “Michelle had me deliver it today.”
“I wasn’t sure she’d write back,” Syrah said, jumping from one foot to the other. “Can I open it now?”
“You don’t have to ask permission to open your own letter.”
“I don’t want to rip it. It looks so pretty.” She ran her hand over the envelope’s geometric designs.
Jessie went over to Kenneth’s desk and opened a drawer. “Let’s see if your uncle has a letter opener we can use.” She found one and
handed it to her.
Syrah carefully ripped it open, then raced up to her room.
Teresa walked around the room. “Wow, this place is nice.” She admired a plaque on the wall. “I’m impressed.”
“Since he’s never here, I’m thinking of turning it into a museum. How much do you think people will pay to see this?”
“He’s a busy man,” she said gently.
“He should have at least called and told Syrah that he wasn’t coming home. She was very disappointed.”
Teresa tilted her head, trying not to grin. “And what about you?”
Jessie shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “What about me? I don’t care.”
Teresa’s grin appeared, despite her efforts. “Yes, and I bet you dream about his kiss every night.”
“You’d lose.” She pictured him naked and doing a lot more than kissing.
She shrugged and headed for the door. “Hey, anything I can do to help, just tell me.”
“I will.” Jessie waited for the door to close, then returned to what she had been working on. She was mulling over her mission statement when she heard the front door open. She glanced up and saw Kenneth enter the room. She was so happy to see him that she leaped to her feet. She immediately sat back down, realizing how silly that was.
“You’re home early,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. She knew it was a silly statement. He hadn’t come home for three days. She picked up her binder.
He laid his briefcase down and shrugged out of his jacket. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
She ran nervous fingers over the binder cover. “No, of course not. But since you didn’t come home last night…” She trailed off. It was none of her business.
He gave her a sideward glance. “Miss me?”
“Like a headache.”
He undid his tie. “Hmm, someone’s in a fighting mood today.”
If only she could fight the useless emotions she felt for him. They were just friends, and she would act like it. She noticed his eyes were tired, and his good humor was not as genuine as in days before. She pointed to the pile on his desk. “I finished your letters.”
“Thank you.” He sat down at his desk. “If you must know why I’m home, it’s to get some work done.”
“Isn’t that what your office is for?”
He sent her a quick grin. “Funny, I thought so too. But that opinion seems to be in the minority.” He didn’t feel like explaining the many interruptions that cluttered up his day. He had too much to get done. For one thing, he needed to figure out why so many of his programmers were having a hard time running programs. Nathan thought he trusted Stephanie and he wanted to put his faith in Rodney, but Kenneth trusted no one. He would figure this out himself.
He put his briefcase on the desk. “Where’s Syrah?”
“She’s up in her room, writing a letter.”
“Good. Have you two been getting on?”
“Except for the puddle of blood in the kitchen, we get on well.” She tucked her feet under her and watched him open his briefcase. “So you spent all night at work?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because he didn’t want to come home. He didn’t want to see Syrah and witness Eddie’s neglect on her face. And he didn’t want to see Jasmine and remember how close to chaos he had come.
“I’m not judging you,” she said quickly when he remained silent. “But it would be nice if you would let us know when you’re not coming home. Syrah was disappointed.”
He sounded surprised. “Was she?”
“Yes.”
He scratched his cheek. “And what about you?”
Jessie ignored the question. She leaned towards him, her voice eager. “You know, you should try to make an effort to bond with her a little bit more. You never interact with her.”
“Why should I?”
“Because she’s—”
His stormy gaze stopped her words. “I’m not her father, nor do I plan to be.”
“I know that.” She scowled. “What’s wrong with Eddie, anyway?”
He turned away with impatience. “What does it matter? You’re here to look after Syrah. That’s all you need to worry about.”
“I am looking after her. I’m looking after a little girl who desperately loves an uncle who barely looks at her. Why are you covering for Eddie, anyway? Since you don’t want her here, she might be better off with him. You’re only raising her hopes.”
He took out some papers and slammed the briefcase shut. “She belongs here with me right now.”
“You just admitted you’re not her father.”
He spun around. “Sometimes I damn near wish—” He stopped and took a deep breath. “The problem with this argument is that you don’t have all the facts, but you’re right. I’m not good for her. I admit that.”
“I never said—”
“There are few things you need to say, Jas.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t worry, she’ll go back to her father soon enough.”
She uncurled her legs and chewed her nails. “What is wrong with Eddie?”
He set his briefcase on the floor.
“Syrah says he’s sick,” she continued.
Kenneth picked up a pen and began scribbling down some notes.
“Pushing her away isn’t going to solve anything.”
He threw his pen with such force that it bounced against the wall and flew in the opposite direction. He pinned Jessie with a glare so venomous that her blood chilled. “This conversation is over.”
She wanted to nod, but couldn’t move her head.
His low voice cut through the silence of the room. “I know she’s not safe here. I know that she belongs with her father, and she will. Do you have anything else to say?”
“No,” she said in a choked voice.
“Good.” He returned to his work.
Jessie stared at him, wondering if any action might set his anger loose. She had once wanted to provoke his rage; now she wasn’t so sure. She narrowed her eyes. Then again, a Clifton never backed away from an argument. And yet there was something inherently dangerous about his calm that would make his anger twice as frightening.
He abruptly dropped his pen and pressed his palms against his eyes. “Jasmine, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
He let his hands fall and turned to her. “Like I’m the big, bad wolf and you’re Snow White.”
The corner of her mouth quirked. “You’re mixing your fairy tales.”
“You know what I mean.”
Her gaze fell. “Yes.”
Silence descended.
He muttered something under his breath, then sat down next to her. She moved away, because she didn’t want him to sense how she felt.
He said, “I didn’t mean to—”
Not again! Her eyes flew up to meet his. “Stop apologizing for being human! How can we have a nice, healthy argument if you apologize all the time, especially when you’re right? I know I’m overstepping my boundaries and I know you’re doing the best you can, so you have every right to be vexed with me.”
“I’m not vexed.”
“No,” she said slowly. “The word is angry.”
Some dark emotion flickered in his eyes. “No, I could never be angry with you. Ever.”
“Yes, you could.”
He held her gaze. “No.”
She only smiled.
He lifted a brow. “You enjoy provoking me, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
He nodded and turned, his mouth twisting into a smile or a grimace; she wasn’t sure which. She did know that his mask was in place, fastened by his iron will. She could almost feel the energy it took to guard his emotions, to make sure he didn’t reveal too much. But what could be too much? He had his personal demons that he kept hidden, but for all his controlled anger, she sensed no cruelty in him, felt no survival instinct to flee when anger slipped through the fissures of his mas
k. No, she would never fear his anger. It made him all the more human.
She watched him as he rested his elbows on his knees, his thoughts elsewhere. “Kenneth?”
“What?”
“I did miss you.”
He said nothing, then suddenly turned and rested his head in her lap. “I didn’t miss you at all.”
She stared at him, stunned, then hit him on the arm. “Well, thanks a lot.”
He lifted her blouse. “Are you wearing my favorite bra?”
She slapped his hand away. “No.”
“I still can’t look at Glenda without grinning. I’m afraid she might think I’m flirting with her.”
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” she said dryly.
“No, she looks like a B cup.”
“Kenneth!”
He looked pensive. “However, I do like variety.” He cupped the air. “It’s more the shape than size that’s alluring.”
“She’s married.”
“Which makes them all the more attractive—a married woman’s breast has that special forbidden quality.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
He glanced up at her. “Remind me to give you the building entrance code so that you can visit me anytime you want. We can be ridiculous together any time we want to.”
“Kenneth!”
He yawned. “I love that office. You know, when I was first appointed CEO, I slept there. The job was my life, and I couldn’t afford to fail. I couldn’t let Mr. Radson down.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Hmm, that’s nice,” he said as she gently stroked his hair. “No, don’t stop. Yes, that’s better. Thank you.” He rubbed his cheek against her thigh. “I remember the first time I met him. I’d seen him carrying boxes from his car, and I offered to mow his lawn. Unfortunately, I scared the poor man. I shouldn’t have sneaked up behind him like that.
“He spun around and dropped all his boxes. I picked them up for him and introduced myself, while he stared at me as if I were a mugger. He asked me all these questions about myself. I must have answered them correctly, because from then on, he was my mentor.” His voice began to drift off. “I know some of the board members don’t trust me, but I’ll eventually show them that Mr. Radson was as much family to me as he was to them…” He fell asleep.
She considered waking him, but decided against it.