by Day Leclaire
Chase buried all thought and emotion behind an impregnable mask. Every last one of her points held more validity than she could possibly imagine. Even if he didn’t flat-out lie, he knew Rafe’s ultimate plans for the business—to strip it down to its bare bones and leave the carcass to rot. Eventually, so would the entire town. Once they did, any hope he had for a relationship with Emma would go straight into the crapper.
Possessing the true facts of the situation also left Chase without a solid defense to offer. He could invent any number of plausible scenarios, but he refused to do that regardless of what Rafe would want, because they weren’t true. Right now the expression “between a rock and a hard place” took on a whole new, gut-wrenching meaning.
“What would it take to convince you that Rafe’s on the up-and-up?” Ronald asked, the question edged with a touch of desperation.
“Written guarantees would be nice.”
Chase nearly groaned. He needed to stop the direction of the conversation right here and now. “Written guarantees are impractical,” he insisted. “You can’t force Rafe to protect the entire workforce, not if he plans to modernize. Changes will have to be made and once it’s his company, it’s well within his rights to make them.”
“He’s right,” Ronald said with a hint of apology.
Emma glared at the two men, her pansy-blue eyes filled with determination. “Then I suggest you gentlemen come up with an idea that will reassure the townspeople. Because otherwise you’re going to find all of Vista del Mar up in arms over the sale.”
“Thanks to you,” Chase couldn’t help but point out.
She smiled sweetly in response. “My pleasure.”
Chase glanced at Worth. Damn it, he could see the other man wavering, actually listening to his daughter’s appeal. “Ronald, would you excuse us, so Emma and I can speak in private?”
Worth hesitated, a father’s protective instincts stamped all over his face. With a reluctant jerk of his head, he opened the door. Tia stood there, a tray in hand. “Coffee?” she offered.
“Set it down on the table by the couch,” Emma requested. “Dad, did you want a cup before you leave?”
Ronald snorted. “The way things are going today, I’d just spill it again. You two enjoy. I’ll go sit in the kitchen and let Nilda chew off my ear for ruining two of her good tablecloths. Not to mention breaking the Wedgwood.”
The instant the door closed behind Worth and Tia, Emma crossed to the tray and poured Chase a cup. She handed it to him. He promptly returned it to the tray. “A cup of coffee isn’t going to hold me at a safe distance.”
“Gee, and here I thought I was being polite.”
His BlackBerry rang and he fished it out of his pocket. Rafe again. He sent it to voice mail and returned the phone to his pocket. When he looked at Emma, he was surprised to see laughter glittered in her eyes. “What?”
“You changed your ringtone, didn’t you?”
“So? We kept getting the phones mixed up.”
“I changed my ringtone, too.”
He could guess where this was going and started to chuckle. “Don’t tell me. Same one?”
She nodded. “Same one.”
Chase held out his hand. “Come here.”
To his intense satisfaction, she flung herself into his arms. Her slight form impacted in the most delicious way. She belonged here, held close to his heart. Even better, she felt right, her curves molded against the hard angled planes of his body. He’d finally found a woman who appealed to him in every possible way and he couldn’t turn around without tripping over a stumbling block. He just couldn’t catch a break.
“How bad was it?” he asked gently.
“Not great.” Her muffled confession came from the vicinity of his shoulder. “But not as bad as it could have been. You arrived in the nick of time.”
“I should have been with you when you broke the news to your father.” Chase tucked a silky lock of pale hair behind her ear and cupped her face, lifting it to his. “I know you said you’d handle it, but I should have been here, anyway.”
“As it turns out, you were.”
Unable to resist, he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and surrendered to the embrace. More, she encouraged it, deepening the kiss with a hungry little moan. He swept inward, shuddering at the sweetness. What would it be like to wake with her by his side every morning? To go to bed with her in his arms every night? To be there when his son or daughter came into the world and blossom from infancy to adulthood?
He’d missed out on huge chunks of that in his own life. He wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to his child. No matter what it took, he’d find a way to convince Emma that they belonged together. Reluctantly, she pulled back and glanced upward. The slumberous quality in her eyes tempted him to carry her to the couch and see what other expressions he could elicit. Only the thought of Worth walking in on them held Chase in place.
“So, what are you going to do about reassuring Worth’s employees?” she asked.
He blew out a sigh. The woman had the tenacity of a bulldog and he knew just who to blame for that. “I’ll bring it up with Rafe.”
She rewarded him with a brilliant smile. “You do that. In the meantime, I’ll work on Dad. We’re all intelligent people. I’m sure we can come up with some ideas—contractual ideas—for how to protect the town.”
Great. Just what he needed. How the hell was he going to get out of this one? Coming here and confronting Emma had not gone the way he’d planned. Not even a little. So much for fixing things. If anything, he’d made them worse. A hell of a lot worse.
“Focus on our upcoming nuptials, instead of Worth Industries,” Chase advised as they exited the study. “Maybe if you put as much effort into that as you do the sale we might get something accomplished.”
“I’m afraid our nuptials will require a few more rounds of negotiations,” she replied lightly.
“I believe you were the one who said we couldn’t negotiate a baby. Nor do I intend to.” Ronald appeared at the far end of the foyer. Ignoring him, Chase pulled Emma into his arms and kissed her with every ounce of pent-up passion he possessed. He could practically smell the fire and brimstone pouring off her father, not that he gave a hot damn.
She reluctantly pulled back. “I won’t be pressured, Chase.”
“And I won’t remain patient forever,” he warned. “Plan on a wedding in your near future.” Without another word, he exited the mansion.
His next stop was the condo Rafe recently purchased. Like the condo he rented, it also commanded a breathtaking ocean view. Unlike the rental’s casual beach style, Rafe opted for something far more lavish. Rumors swirling around town put the price tag at a cool three million. Chase knew for a fact it had cost Rafe three and a half. In his opinion, the place was worth every dime.
“Well?” Rafe demanded the instant Chase arrived. “Did you take care of it? Of her?”
“No.” Chase brushed past his brother and headed for the kitchen, and more importantly, the refrigerator. He’d missed breakfast thanks to this latest fiasco and he was starving.
“What the hell do you mean, ‘no’? Max has been on my ass about it all morning,” Rafe said, referring to Max Preston, his high-octane corporate PR expert. “He warned this is turning into a PR nightmare and we have to fix it. Fast.”
Chase opened the stainless steel door of the refrigerator and poked around, settling on a carton of leftover General Tso’s chicken. He took a few minutes to stand at one of the white granite counters and eat before replying. All the while, Rafe paced the breakfast room connected to the kitchen, shooting periodic irritated looks toward his brother.
As soon as Chase had taken the edge off his appetite, he said, “I mean, Emma’s not backing down. She wants some sort of guarantee that the workforce will be protected. If you were in her position, you’d be doing the same thing.”
“I’m not in her position,” Rafe snapped. He folded his arms across his impressive
chest, a massive, immovable object to Emma’s delicate, but irresistible force. “And you know damn well I’m not about to give them any guarantees. You also know why.”
Chase shrugged. “Unless you want the rest of Vista del Mar to figure out your ultimate game plan, I suggest you come up with some way to reassure them. Either that or change the plan.”
Rafe shook his head. “I’m not changing my plan.” He stewed over the issue while Chase polished off the leftover Chinese food. “How can we keep everyone reassured long enough for me to make this buyout happen?” he asked abruptly.
“And people call me a bastard.”
Rafe flashed a hard smile. “Unlike you, being called a bastard doesn’t bother me.”
“That’s because you’re not illegitimate.” Chase tossed the empty carton into the trash beneath the sink and checked to make certain the area appeared as pristine as when he walked in. “You might feel differently about it if you were.”
“You’re probably right,” Rafe conceded. “Hell, you’re definitely right. At least my father married my mother when they discovered she was pregnant with me. If Dad had been any other sort of man, you and I would have even more in common than we do now.”
Chase joined his brother in the breakfast area and opened the door leading onto the wraparound balcony. “Come on. I need some fresh air.”
The salt-laden breeze smelled great, helping to clear his head. Rafe followed him out and the two men skirted the rattan table and chairs in favor of leaning against the railing and staring out across the magnificent view. As usual, Rafe chose only the best, and though Chase found it a bit extravagant for his tastes, the sheer beauty of the condo impressed the hell out of him and made him long for a place with substance and roots. A place overflowing with the warmth of a woman and the echoes of a child. Not just any woman or any child. Emma. Their baby. A real family. A real home.
The wish spawned the inkling of an idea that might help Rafe. Chase took a moment to weigh the possibilities before speaking. “Do you remember when my mom and your dad told us they were going to get married?”
“What I remember most is the anger and hurt. The resentment at the idea that Dad planned to replace my mother with another woman, just three short years after her death.” He spared Chase a speaking look. “I also recall your beating that opinion out of me.”
“Only because I knew damn well that no one could replace Hannah. I also knew that Mom wouldn’t try.” Chase lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Why would she? She’s a special woman in her own right.”
“It took me a while to figure that out, but I got there,” Rafe conceded grudgingly. “She’s perfect for my dad.”
A slow smile built across Chase’s face. “Not as perfect as your mom, Hannah, of course.”
An answering smile gentled the hard lines of his brother’s expression. “Definitely not.” His sun-bleached brows drew together. “So, where are you going with this?”
“I remember Bob sitting you down—”
“Forcibly, knowing my dad.”
“No doubt.” Chase struggled to remember his stepfather’s exact words. “Bob told you he hoped that someday you’d find a way to honor your mother so that her memory lived on. So people would always remember how special she was.”
“If this is your way of trying to talk me out of my plans for Worth Industries—”
“Shut up, Rafe, and listen to me a minute. That’s not what I’m getting at. You’ve always resented the people around here because they didn’t help Hannah when she became sick. What if you started up a charity in her name, something that would keep her memory alive here in town—force people to acknowledge both her and her existence—and at the same time reassure everyone that you plan to stick around for the long haul?”
Rafe stilled, the idea clearly striking a nerve. “What sort of charity?”
“I don’t know. Emma’s a huge supporter of the local women’s shelter, It’s Time. You could throw your weight behind that.”
Rafe shook his head. “No. I want something that’s unique to my mother.”
“Fair enough. What were her interests? Which causes was she passionate about?”
“There was one…” Rafe stared out across the ocean, a modern-day Viking at the helm of his ship. Today the waves were calm and gentle, almost like a benediction. Sunlight poured down, bouncing and glittering off the water. “She often worked with some of the Hispanic factory workers to help them improve their English skills and to teach those who couldn’t, how to read. She even volunteered at the local elementary schools to work with the children who spoke English as a second language. But what mattered to her the most was adult literacy. She claimed that the only way for them to get ahead in life was through improved education and literacy. That it gave hope to the next generation. Hope for a better life than the ones their parents knew.”
“Hannah’s Hope?” Chase suggested softly. “Has a ring, don’t you think?”
Rafe bowed his head. “Yeah, it does,” he admitted gruffly.
“Get up with Max and see what he thinks about the PR possibilities.”
“I’ll do that.”
“I have to run.” Chase clapped a hand to his brother’s shoulder. “You okay?”
Instantly, all hint of vulnerability vanished, disappearing behind a glacier-thick reserve. “I’m fine. But there’s still the matter of Emma Worth.”
“I’ll worry about Emma,” Chase said.
“Correction. Your job from this point forward isn’t to worry about her, but to distract her. I don’t care what it takes. Borrow my plane if you need to and take her someplace romantic.” Rafe threw a final warning over his shoulder. “I hope you’re listening, bro. Get her out of my way or I’ll move her out myself.”
“Ty? Ronald Worth here.”
“Worth! Good to hear from you. I’ve been meaning to give you a call.”
It was a lie. Still, Ronald would have said the same in Tiberius Barron’s place. “Your son is out here working with Rafe Cameron on the purchase of my factory.”
“Excellent, excellent. Glad to hear it. You couldn’t have a better money man than Chase on the job.”
“Right,” Ronald said dryly. “Too bad he’s working for the other side.”
Ty chuckled. “Good point. So what’s up? I assume if you’re calling, there’s a problem?”
“You’d be right about that. There’s something I need you to straighten out.”
A long pause followed. Then, “Is this regarding Chase?”
“That’s right. You remember my daughter, Emma?”
“I’ve never had the pleasure, though you’ve shown me pictures. Beautiful girl, Ronald. A true credit to the Worth name.”
“A true credit until your son got his hands on her.”
“Son of a—” Ronald could hear a muffled crash and suspected Ty had kicked his chair aside. “What’s he done now?”
“It’s more a matter of what he hasn’t done. Yet.”
“Which is?”
“He’s neglected to marry my daughter…after getting her pregnant. And I expect you to ensure he corrects that oversight as soon as possible.”
Seven
Emma sat in the room set aside for practicing job interviews at It’s Time, the abuse shelter where she volunteered. Three endless days had passed since she’d told her father about her pregnancy. He and Chase had spent the intervening time working on the Worth Industries sale.
Just as soon as she finished up at the shelter, she intended to join Chase for the afternoon, and she flat-out could not wait. Couldn’t wait to have him hold her in his arms again or kiss her with the focused intensity that was such an innate part of his personality. Be honest, she ordered herself. She also couldn’t wait for him to take her to bed again.
Emma forced her attention back to the job on hand. “That’s it, Lacey.” She nodded, pleased. “Your posture is fabulous. You look like a queen. No, don’t look down. Keep making eye contact. Now this is the tough
part. You’ll have to shake hands. I’ll try and make sure the HR person who interviews you is a woman, but I can’t guarantee it. Try not to let it throw you if it’s a man.”
“I won’t, Emma.” Lacey lifted her chin and took a step forward, speaking in the calm, firm voice they’d practiced. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Excellent.” Emma couldn’t have been prouder. “You’ve done it. All these months of hard work have paid off. Your interview is at two on Monday and I don’t doubt for a minute you’ll get the job.”
“Thanks to you.”
Emma shook her head. “It’s all thanks to you. You’re the one who made the changes, not me. I just gave you the opportunity. And look at you now.”
The two women hugged and Lacey turned to leave the room. To Emma’s delight, she glowed. There was no comparison between this woman and the one who’d appeared on the shelter’s doorstep, battered and bruised, her self-esteem in the toilet, unable to look people in the eye or whisper more than a few stuttered words.
Emma glanced toward the women gathered in the back of the room. She’d been warned that a delegation from Los Angeles would arrive for a visit today and, with Lacey’s permission, they’d stood quietly observing while she prepared for the upcoming interview.
Emma approached the group with a welcoming smile. One of the contingent, a petite, dark-haired woman in her late fifties, stepped forward. While the others filed from the room, the woman offered her hand. “Thank you so much for allowing us to watch you.”
“My pleasure. Has it helped you at all?”
“Absolutely. I particularly love the way you linked the name of the shelter, It’s Time, with the name of the thrift shop, Time Again.”