by A. C. Arthur
“I met Darren Howerton’s daughter the other night,” Ballard said in an effort to cut through the tension that threatened to choke everyone in this room.
“Of Howerton Technologies?” his father inquired.
“His son’s running the company now. Howerton’s running for the House of Representatives seat that Edgar Mann is vacating,” Ballard replied.
Daniel nodded. “Yes, I remember reading that a few months back. He was speaking at a fund-raiser when I was in Dallas. We had planned to meet up but never did.”
“Howerton,” Hudson was saying. “He’s from around here, isn’t he?”
“Wintersage,” Ballard offered. “The family has been there since the town was founded.”
Daniel finished chewing and taking a drink from his wineglass. He was wiping his hands on a napkin when he offered, “They have big ties in technology, Dad, so you probably wouldn’t know much about them.”
Hudson frowned. “When I started my company, I made it my business to know about locally influential African-Americans. I remember the Howerton name because of that town they’re in. Shipping’s always been big there.”
Ballard nodded. “That’s the same thing Janelle said.”
“Janelle?” Leandra inquired, her eyebrows arching with interest. “Who is Janelle, dear?”
Despite all his travels, which had put him in the company of princesses from distant islands, movie stars and supermodels, his grandmother was still the most beautiful woman Ballard had ever seen. Even with her headful of silver-gray hair, her light brown eyes still held a twinkle of life he’d yet to glimpse in any other female. He loved her beyond words. And he knew her mind was perking right up at his mentioning a woman’s name at the dinner table.
Normally, Ballard made it a point to keep his family and his personal dalliances separate. It was cleaner that way, more efficient and admittedly less stressful. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of that before mentioning Janelle.
“She’s Darren Howerton’s daughter. I met her at Harford’s fund-raiser over the weekend. We went to dinner Saturday night.”
There, that should be enough to keep his grandmother smiling for days to come.
“I thought you sent me a text that you were meeting with Chan on Saturday evening,” Daniel stated.
“I rescheduled,” he replied.
“We need that deal to go through, Ballard. Handling all the freight from China to the States would be a phenomenal coup for us,” his father continued.
“Tell me more about this Janelle Howerton. What does she do?” Hudson interjected.
While Ballard did not want to encourage anything where his grandparents were concerned, he also did not want to go back and forth with his father. Daniel was of the belief that Ballard still needed his father to tell him how to do his job. He didn’t. He’d been handling Dubois business for more than ten years now, had taken the company further into the digital age than his father had ever dreamed. Chan and his business would still be there the middle of this week, when he’d rescheduled the meeting. And Ballard would clinch that deal, there was no doubt. So there was nothing left to discuss with his father.
“She’s an event planner running her own company in Wintersage. Very intelligent woman,” he added but wasn’t quite sure why.
His father made some sound that indicated he was not at all thrilled with the line of questioning. Of course he would prefer to deal with why Ballard had missed the meeting with Chan and exactly when he planned to seal that deal. Ballard couldn’t have planned the ringing of his father’s cell phone any better.
“No cell phones at the dinner table.” Hudson frowned at his son when the phone rang again.
Daniel had pulled the phone from his hip by then, looking down at it, then frowning up at his father, his gaze softening only when he looked to his mother. “Excuse me. I have to take this call.”
When Ballard’s father was out of the dining room, Hudson sighed. “That boy still doesn’t get it.”
“He’s had a rough time, Hudson. Daniel’s always been one to hold in his true feelings,” Leandra said, putting her napkin neatly onto the table.
“That’s why his marriage failed,” Hudson snapped. “No patience. No commitment to the things that matter most in life.”
Ballard had heard all this before, from both his grandfather and his mother. To an extent he agreed: his father was an extremely rigid and most times closed-off man. He loved his business as though he actually expected it to one day love him back. Some might say the same about Ballard, but he didn’t agree. He was different because he wasn’t foolish enough to make the commitment of marriage or family, knowing that he had the propensity to choose business first. It was one of the smartest and most logical decisions he’d ever made for himself. Obviously, there were some who disagreed.
“I don’t want you to make that same mistake, son.”
He looked up when he heard his grandfather speaking to him.
“What mistake is that?” he asked when he probably should have simply remained silent.
“Don’t make your entire life about this business. There’s more out there.” Hudson reached his hand across the table, finding his wife’s and entwining with it without even looking down. “Find yourself a good wife and build a loving family. That’s what all this is about. That’s why I worked so hard, so that my family could have something good, something to be proud of. Not so they could use it as an excuse to not live a full life.”
“Dad just loves the company, Pops,” he replied, always uncomfortable at having to defend his father to his grandfather. “He works so hard because he is proud of what you built.”
“He works so hard because he’s hiding,” Hudson insisted. “Hiding from his failures and defeats. He lost sight of what was important and he’s too damned stubborn and proud to admit it.”
This time Ballard did remain silent. Debating with Hudson just simply wasn’t worth it. The man had his opinion and he would stand by it until the day he died. So Ballard simply picked up his glass and took a slow sip of his wine.
“You’re dedicated to the business, as well,” Hudson continued.
Ballard nodded. “I am. I think we have a lot of forward movement yet to make. Technology as well as new relationships are going to be a key part to our continued growth in this digital age.” Finally, they were on a better subject, a topic Ballard was more comfortable speaking about.
“New relationships,” Hudson said with a nod to his wife. “That’s just what I’m thinking.”
“Don’t meddle, Hudson,” Leandra warned.
The older man shushed his wife. “Nonsense. It’s not meddling where my company is concerned, or my family, for that matter.”
Ballard had begun to put his napkin on the table, more than ready to announce his exit, when Hudson’s next words stopped him cold.
“The Howertons are from a good, stable stock. Hell, they’ve got some roots in shipping, which is all right by me,” he continued with a light chuckle. “You put some real effort into courting that woman, find yourself some happiness there, maybe even marry her and I’ll put you in charge of the company.”
Ballard couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Excuse me?”
Hudson nodded, sitting back in his chair, his ever-rounding belly poking out to signify he’d just had a good, satisfying meal. He’d released his wife’s hand to clasp his fingers together over the girth as he looked down the table to Ballard.
“I’m about ready to give up the day-to-day working myself.”
“You cut your hours years ago,” Ballard added. “I thought you were enjoying your semiretirement.”
The older man shrugged. “Might be time to make it a permanent retirement. Leandra and I still have lots we want to do, places I’ve promised to take her. If I know the company’s in
good hands, I can do that in peace.”
“My dad’s doing a great job as CEO.” And Ballard had never dreamed of ousting his father from that position. Sure, he figured it would come to him someday, after it had gone through the proper procession—Hudson, Daniel, him—not before.
Hudson didn’t agree. “Daniel needs to take a step back, to reevaluate and find himself before he loses everything that’s important.”
“Pops, that’s Dad’s battle. We should let him fight it on his own terms,” Ballard insisted.
He agreed that his father had grown even more distant since the divorce and, as far as Ballard knew, had not been seriously involved with another woman since then. But just as Ballard felt his personal life was his business, he wanted to offer his father that same respect.
Ballard hadn’t expected Hudson to sit forward, slamming his palm on the table so that all the glassware and silverware trembled. “This is my company! I’ll run it on my terms!”
“Calm down, Hudson. No need getting your pressure up over things you can’t change,” Leandra said, going to stand beside her husband with a hand on his shoulder. “Ballard’s right—Daniel needs to find his own way.”
“Fine. He can do that on his own time,” was Hudson’s retort. “As for you,” he said, pointing at Ballard this time, “I expect better. I want more. Marry that girl and get the corporation you love so much. Can you do that?”
Ballard swallowed, at a loss for words. As good a businessman as he knew he was, Ballard had no idea what type of reply was even called for in a situation like this. He’d just met Janelle Howerton, barely knew her beyond the fact that the kiss they’d shared had haunted him ever since. But that was just physical. There were no feelings involved, no emotional attachments—those weren’t his forte. The fact that his grandfather was actually giving him an ultimatum that concerned this woman flabbergasted him.
And then his own cell phone rang, Miles Davis’s “Blue in Green” his ringtone. Ballard quickly cleared his throat and reached for his phone. Glancing down at the screen, he saw a number he’d only just programmed in this morning as he’d looked at her website online.
“I have to take this call,” he announced to his grandfather’s frowning face. “It’s Janelle,” he added, and watched as that frown quickly receded.
“Well, you’d better answer it, then,” Hudson told him, lifting his hand up to meet his wife’s on his shoulder.
Ballard stood from the table and headed out of the dining room to answer the call, wondering what the hell had just happened with his grandparents and, at the same time, what had made the slightly uptight Janelle Howerton decide to call him.
Chapter 5
Janelle was a Howerton, which meant she was used to certain things—big parties, private schools, lavish houses, the works. Still, when she answered the front door of her family home after the doorbell rang, she was shocked to see the stretch limousine parked in the driveway.
“Janelle Howerton?” the driver, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, gray tie and even a chauffeur’s hat, asked.
She had to catch herself as she was still staring at the car, then did an actual double take at the chauffeur.
“Ah, yes. I am. I’ll be right with you,” she told him as she moved back inside the house to get a jacket and her purse.
It wasn’t that she’d never seen or ridden in a limo before. She had, more times than she could remember. This was supposed to be a simple dinner date. Unlike her first dinner with Ballard, which she had been adamant was not a date. This made her think back to the last time she’d gone out to dinner with Jack, meeting him at a restaurant and returning to their hotel room alone. That had been the last night she’d seen Jack Trellier, and it hadn’t ended well. Besides all that, when she’d called Ballard earlier in the week, she’d suggested dinner over the weekend because she figured it would be easier on both of them since he lived in Boston. His reply had been, “I’ll take care of everything and will send you the details in an email on Thursday night.”
She’d thought that was a little cryptic. Vicki had said it sounded mysterious and romantic. Sandra had only shrugged and advised her to go with it. That was precisely what Janelle was trying to do as she looked through the tinted windows of the limousine to see that they were slowing down somewhere on a waterfront.
It was a little after eight, so the sky was darkening, lights from nearby buildings casting eerie reflections on the near-black water. When the car stopped completely, Janelle frowned because there was no restaurant in sight. In fact, all the buildings were on the other side of the water.
When the limo door opened, she scooped her jacket and purse from the seat and stepped out into the cool night air. It wasn’t officially fall yet, but the evenings had already grown chillier, hence the suit jacket she’d brought to put on over the short-sleeved knee-length royal-blue dress she wore. After closing the door behind her, Janelle noted that the chauffeur, who was überprofessional but just slightly rude because he hadn’t said a word other than her name in the past hour they’d been together, had already begun walking ahead of her. She hadn’t expected cordial conversation, but she would like some answers.
“I’m supposed to meet Mr. Dubois for dinner. Do you know where he is or why we’re here?”
He walked slowly, about two steps ahead of her, his bowed legs reminding Janelle of her father’s younger brother who lived in South Carolina. And he did not respond.
She frowned at his back, being careful not to get the heel of her shoe caught in the wood planks of the dock. Had she known she would be walking on a dock, she might have given her wardrobe a little more thought. As it was, she was irritated that she’d taken over an hour to decide what to wear and that now she’d obviously chosen the wrong outfit.
Deep in her own thoughts, Janelle had ceased paying attention to the driver, who wouldn’t speak to her anyway. So when he stopped, she wasn’t aware, and hence bumped into his back. He didn’t move and still did not say a word.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, and stepped back.
He turned to the side, then extended an arm, directing her to walk along the plank to his left. The plank that was lined with a black plush material that looked out of place on a shipping dock. She was just about to ask another question when she heard another voice and looked up to see Ballard Dubois standing at the other end of the plank.
“Good evening, Janelle,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, reaching the five-to six-foot distance between them to wrap around her as warmly as the jacket in her hand ever could.
A light breeze shifted the edges of his dark suit jacket. His left hand was in his pant pocket and she glimpsed his muscular chest even through the dress shirt and tie. Her mouth watered but she ignored it. “Good evening,” she said, taking the steps to close the distance between them.
Once she was near, Ballard reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips for a featherlight kiss. “I am so pleased you could make it tonight.”
He smelled like heaven and hell all rolled into one gorgeous package. The scent was intoxicating, strong and powerful, masculine and alluring. In a dream world she could lie against his broad chest inhaling his scent, becoming aroused and enjoying the lovemaking she was certain he would be skilled at. That would certainly be heaven, which then led to hell, because Janelle had given up on dreams a long time ago. Still, she opened her mouth to speak and had to close it again because the first words to come to her mind were definitely not what she should say to him.
He was holding both her hands by the time Janelle got a grip on her senses and spoke like a woman with a modicum of sense.
“A simple restaurant would have sufficed,” she told him. Especially since this second meeting wasn’t about anything more than finishing up the political aspect of their relationship. She’d had days to rethink Vicki and Sandra’s push that she get
to know Ballard better on a personal level. It wasn’t a smart move—she knew that.
“Never settle for less,” he replied. “Not when you can have the very best.”
With those words, Ballard kept one of her hands clasped comfortably in his as he led her onto the deck of his yacht. Looking around, she noted benches with striped cushions, tables with gleaming silver legs and marble tops, a wet bar and a hot tub. In the direction of the stern were more wraparound benches covered in the same striped cushions. That was the direction Ballard walked and she followed.
He led her to the U shape of seats, a small oak table in front of them.
“Have a seat. We’ll have a drink while we wait for dinner to be plated,” he said.
Everything Ballard said sounded like an instruction, as if he was used to telling people what to do all the time. For a second Janelle thought about being offended. Then she remembered the start of their first dinner together and decided to take his comments and actions a little more lightly this time around. She was certain there were aspects of her demeanor he wasn’t thrilled with, as well. And if he knew anything about the real Janelle Howerton, well, they wouldn’t be going through this dinner dance at all.
“She’s beautiful,” she said, taking her seat and putting her things down beside her.
He looked a little surprised, then acknowledged, “Thank you. I’ve had her for a little more than a year now. I guess you could call her one of my hobbies.”
Janelle nodded, trying not to watch the way he confidently moved, picking up the wine bottle, pouring their glasses, handing her one, like a man used to being served but knowing how to serve, as well.
She took a small sip, then said, “My brother, DJ, has similar toys. He’s always loved the water, whether swimming or sailing.”
“Ah, yes, Darren Howerton Jr., young CEO of Howerton Technologies. He’s doing a fantastic job. Your stock is skyrocketing.”
He sat on the bench not two feet away from her, his glass in his left hand. His hair was close to his scalp in thick waves, the pecan tone of his skin a perfect accent to the coral-colored tie he wore. His jacket rested excellently over broad shoulders that her fingers itched to touch.