by Karen Booth
“Actually, no. But he put some items from Norway on his expense report and he was out of the office when the folks in accounting asked me about it. Norway wasn’t on his company itinerary, so they were checking to see if it was right.”
“Did you confront him?”
“I did, and you can imagine how that went. There was no confronting Johnathon. He never wanted to own up to anything that made him look bad. He never wanted to appear human. He wanted everyone to love him unconditionally.”
“And it worked for the most part.”
“It did. He just made everyone else deal with his mistakes.”
Tara knew that, too. When Johnathon had asked her to set aside her aspirations with Sterling, he’d told several people that it had been her choice to do so. That couldn’t have been further from the truth, but Tara believed in a unified front when it came to marriage, and so she’d smiled and nodded and said that being a real estate agent had always been her dream. When it wasn’t true.
“I don’t really know what to do about this,” she said, turning back to Grant. As she shifted, the sun steamed in through the window over her shoulder, first blinding her, then as her eyes adjusted, lighting him in a soft glow. It harkened back to their morning together and waking up next to him. It had been so lovely. He made her feel desired. Wanted. She hadn’t felt that way in forever. Good God, she really wanted to kiss him again, to have his lips on the sensitive skin of her neck and feel his commanding hands all over her body. She really wanted to find out if their night together had been a fluke.
“You realize you’re asking the wrong person, right?” he asked. “I have every reason imaginable to stir up trouble between Astrid and Miranda. To divide your interests and hopefully convince one of you to sell.”
“So why not create problems? You could have told either one of them about it and really driven the wedge between them. The opportunity was there from the moment Max told you he’d split Miranda’s shares of the company between us.” She didn’t want to give him any ideas, but surely this had occurred to him.
“I could never do that. You should know that about me.”
Tara drew in a deep breath. How did he manage to stay on the right side of everything? “I know, Grant. I know you’re a good guy.”
He shook his head and rose up out of his chair. “If it makes me a good guy because I want to win fair and square, then so be it. I guess I’m a good guy. Just please stop saying it like it’s a bad thing. I realize that’s not what you’re attracted to. I guess you’d rather be with the sort of man who cheats on his new wife with his former one.”
Ouch. “That’s not what I’m attracted to.”
“Then prove it to me.”
Tara struggled to find a response. What was he saying? “With you?” The idea was all wrong. So why did it have to send such a tide of electricity through her body?
He shrugged and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know, Tara. You tell me.”
* * *
Grant had nearly told her yes—prove it with him. Hell, he’d nearly come clean with a confession, but he wasn’t ready. Something inside him was telling him to stay back. It was already hard enough to admit to himself that he’d been carrying a torch for Tara this whole time, even when she was married to his best friend. It would make him look weak and he didn’t want Tara to see him that way. Yes, he’d been standing in Johnathon’s shadow for years, but he’d been the backbone of the company and in many ways, he’d been that for Johnathon, too. It was just that nobody wanted to see it. The specter of Johnathon Sterling was too much for people to see past.
“No. I’m really not a good guy. At least not the way you’re trying to put it.” He stepped closer to her, scanning her face while memories of their night together gathered in his mind like storm clouds threatening torrential rain. He’d thought perhaps that last week might quench his desire for her, but it hadn’t. Quite the opposite. She’d awoken something in him, a primal part of his psyche that wasn’t willing to lose. Not anymore. He wanted what he wanted and he wasn’t about to apologize for it.
“I really think this is a problem you need to rectify on your own, Grant.”
She wasn’t wrong. But he hoped she’d help him work it out. “I want you too much, Tara, and it’s impacting my job. You’re too beautiful. Too sexy. Too desirable. That’s my real problem.”
A crease formed between her eyes as doubt spread across her face. “Oh, please. I’m supposed to believe that you’re so taken with me that you aren’t still laser focused on the prize? You’ve always wanted to be at the helm of Sterling, and you’re threatened by my presence. I don’t think you can blame our battle of wills on attraction. No matter what you might have said to Johnathon over the years about being okay with playing second fiddle to him, I think you’ve always wanted Sterling first and foremost.”
“You’re not wrong. I have always wanted to be in charge. I was content in my role, but now that I’ve had a taste of the control it gives me, I’m not willing to pass up this opportunity.” What he really wanted to say was that now that he’d had a taste of Tara, he wasn’t willing to let her go. But she could turn on him so quickly, and there was more at stake than hurt feelings.
“Then we’re at an impasse,” she said. “I have a chance to fulfill my own dreams and I’m not willing to just shrug that off or walk away from it. No way. Not now. Not when I’ve got Astrid and Miranda and her baby counting on me to make the most of this.”
“What happens if there’s a rift between Astrid and Miranda? The truth has a way of coming out. Then where will you be, Tara? I know you’re worried about them trusting you, but do you really, truly trust them?” It might sound like he was trying to sow discontent between the wives, but he wanted her to face the reality. Astrid and Miranda could turn on her at any point. And depending on which way they chose to go, whether they sold their shares to someone else or each other, it could all mean that control of Sterling would go into the wrong hands. It was a very real possibility. The sort of reality that kept Grant up at night.
“I have to trust that they’ll keep up their end of the bargain. I have three months to prove that I can make this work, and we’re barely two weeks in. Part of that is the Seaport project. If I can make that a success, I think I’ll prove to them what I’m capable of.”
Grant sighed as the weight of the situation he was in came crashing down around him once again. Any time he tried to shrug it off, it came roaring back. He wanted control, but so did Tara. He wanted Sterling to be successful, and Tara was on the same page, but in a markedly different way. And then there was this crazy side of himself that was rooting for Tara to realize her dreams, as well. Johnathon had held her back when he could, and it hadn’t been fair. Grant cared about her too much for his own good.
“Where does this leave us?” Grant asked.
“The same place we were before I walked into your office. For now, we’re on opposite sides of the same table. I want to run Sterling someday. I have to prove my worth to the wives and I need to prove myself to the staff. That means staying out of your bed.”
“Technically, we were in your bed that night.”
“You know what I mean.”
“And is that what you really want, Tara? If you were being truly honest with yourself, and there were no repercussions, would you be saying that to me? To stay out of your bed?” He held his breath as he waited for the answer. If she was about to say yes, it would crush his most fragile dream, the one he had no business holding on to. But he wanted a dose of reality. It might help him see a way through this.
“I don’t even know what you’re asking, Grant. I don’t do well with hypotheticals.”
“That’s not true. The woman who stood down at the waterfront and painted a picture for me with nothing more than her words and her passion is one-hundred-percent capable of seeing the possibilities.”
“Ar
e you asking me a question about business? Or us?”
Grant swallowed hard. He hadn’t expected to meet this challenge today, to have to double down on what he wanted in his heart. But he had to say it, be done with it and let the dust settle. “I’m asking about us. The other night was spectacular and you know it. We have always had a connection. Don’t tell me that years of flirting were for nothing. That there was nothing behind it. I don’t believe that.”
Tara waved him off and turned back to the window. “Well, of course I’m attracted to you, Grant. But do you really think that I will just throw away a professional opportunity so we can have a fling? I’m not playing a short game here—I’m playing a long one.”
“What makes you think it would only be short-term?”
“Two reasons. First off, you have never been able to make a relationship last for more than a month. Second, Sterling isn’t going anywhere and we both want the same thing, which there is only one of.”
If only Tara knew that the real reason he’d never been able to make a relationship work was because he compared all women to her. It was a stupid, foolish thing to do, and he’d fought it many times, but it always came down to that. Tara had a way of worming her way back into his head. “What if we shared the leadership of Sterling?” He could hardly believe what he was suggesting. Johnathon would never have thought such a thing was a good idea, and Grant wasn’t sure he thought it was smart, either. Still, he was looking for some fissure in the wall Tara had put up between them. There had to be a way in, a chink in her impenetrable armor.
She shook her head with such conviction that he braced for her answer. “No way. I want to win or lose, and really I just want to win. I should have had a role in this company all along. Johnathon should’ve kept me here. You know it, and I believe he knew it, too. There’s no other reason for him to have written me into the will. I don’t believe for a minute that he did it simply because he loved me like he loved Astrid and Miranda. I was a pit stop for him, and I paid a price for it. I got pushed off into a career I didn’t want, and I got sidelined from the direction I wanted to take, which was to follow in my dad’s footsteps. I have the chops, Grant. I know I do.”
“I know. I know.” He felt himself backing down, and he was tired of pushing himself into a corner. He had to accept that Tara’s primary focus right now was on business. He was going to have to let her move forward with her plan. As long as she had the other wives on her side, they could call all the shots they wanted to. Hell, they could ouster him as CEO if they so chose. He couldn’t play fast and loose with his role in the company. He had to learn his lesson. “So I guess I have my answer.”
“I’d like to hear you say it just so I know we’re on the same page,” Tara said.
“We’re fighting for control of Sterling Enterprises by seeing who can make the best leader. And that means that in the meantime, I’m staying out of your bed.”
Eleven
Tara had offered to host dinner for Miranda and Astrid at her house, but Miranda had insisted they do it at her place. Balancing the pregnancy and her job had left her exhausted, and it was easier if she didn’t have to go anywhere. Neither Tara nor Astrid had any reason to dispute her.
Tara pulled up to what had once been Miranda and Johnathon’s home, now solely belonging to his widow. Situated in La Jolla, overlooking the water, this was close to Grant’s home, which was a mile or two south. Grant and Johnathon had always been thick as thieves, and they’d liked being in close proximity. When Johnathon lived with Tara in Coronado, the two had always complained it was too far.
The house was truly magnificent, an absolute showcase of Spanish architecture, with white stucco, black-leaded windows and a red clay roof topping the six different levels of the home. The tropical seaside landscape was lit up dramatically, as was the house, adorned with wrought iron carriage lamps. Tara had seen the property once, but that was before Johnathon and Miranda had bought it. She’d shown it to a couple five years ago, when the asking price was six million. Tara estimated that it had to be worth at least twelve by now. That was quite a nest egg for Miranda, on top of the millions Johnathon had left to her.
Financially, Miranda would do just fine. Emotionally, Tara didn’t know, but she was sure she was about to find out how Miranda was faring.
Tara waited in her car in the driveway until Astrid arrived. She wanted the chance to speak to her for a moment before they went inside. Luckily, it was only a five-minute wait until Astrid zipped up in her little silver Porsche—a rental to keep her mobile while she was living in the city.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Tara said, offering a hug.
“Thank you. You, too,” Astrid replied. Tara felt as though it was more of an obligatory reply than anything.
“Before we go inside, I just wanted to say that I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring up what you told me the other day at work.”
Astrid regarded Tara with utter horror. “What do you take me for, Tara? A complete idiot? I would never do that.”
Tara was taken aback. Astrid had been asserting herself in ways she hadn’t expected. “I didn’t mean any offense. I just wanted to be sure we could keep the peace. And I mean, what’s done is done. Johnathon is gone. There’s no one to answer for that particular misstep.”
“I’m well aware that I can’t yell and scream at him for that and neither can Miranda. I will have to carry that secret to my grave.” She started off for the front door.
Tara followed, utterly relieved. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.”
Astrid checked her face in a compact mirror, then jabbed at the doorbell. “Vodka helps.”
Tara smiled to herself, wondering why she’d bothered to worry about strife between the wives. They could find a way to make their peculiar partnership work. She felt certain of it. Well, reasonably sure. Money and business had a way of making everything more complicated.
Miranda answered and it was immediately apparent that she was not well. There was no glow of pregnancy. She had dark circles under her eyes and appeared pale and gaunt. Her normally gorgeous black hair was up in a messy bun, and she was wearing what appeared to be workout attire—gray yoga pants and a stretchy blue top. Tara was about to ask if they’d come at the wrong time, but Miranda put a quick end to that.
“Come on in.” Miranda waved them both in to the two-story foyer, which had a sweeping staircase with an ornate scrolled railing and a spectacular wrought iron chandelier overhead. “I’m sorry I look like hell. Morning sickness is a misnomer. I’m having it all day long.”
Astrid was quick to be at her side. “Do you need to sit down? Can I bring you anything?”
Tara found Astrid’s attentiveness both sweet and odd. Perhaps Astrid was overcompensating. “Yes. Please. Let us know if we can do something. And we definitely don’t have to eat. I can only imagine that the thought of being around food right now isn’t particularly fun.”
Miranda led them down a short hall and they emerged in the soaring great room, this space with a three-story-high ceiling and ringed with two levels of balconies. On the far side was a wall of windows overlooking the pool and beautifully landscaped yard, and up a half level was a gourmet kitchen, complete with eight-burner stove and Sub-Zero fridge. The house was even more of a showplace now than it had been the time Tara had seen it. Miranda had put her expert interior design touches on it, and she’d chosen very well, with sophisticated white sofas and splashes of color from throw pillows and modern art on the wall. Tara could only imagine what a nightmare it was going to be to babyproof this house, but that was a discussion for another day.
“My personal chef prepared dinner. I’m going to attempt to eat, but no promises.” Miranda walked over to the bar. “Can I get either of you a drink?”
Tara was quick to assume bartender duties. “I can do this. It hardly seems fair that the woman who can’t drink would hav
e to make them. Astrid, what can I get you?”
“Vodka and soda, please,” Astrid replied. Of course, she of zero body fat would choose the least caloric drink imaginable.
“Coming right up. And for you, Miranda?”
“Ginger ale, please. They should be in the fridge down below.”
Tara quickly assembled the necessary supplies and delivered everyone’s drinks. Astrid and Miranda had situated themselves at opposite ends of one sofa, leaving Tara to occupy the chair nearest Miranda. “So, I guess we should get the business part of our dinner meeting out of the way.”
“Yes. I want to know what’s going on. How’s everyone in the office doing? I only get reports from Clay and he’s not really up on office gossip,” Miranda said.
“Generally, I think things are going really well. Everyone seems to be handling Johnathon’s death as well as can be expected.” Tara realized that the real reason morale at Sterling was good was all due to Grant’s influence. She was the new person who’d interjected herself into this equation. Maybe her timing hadn’t been the best, but she wasn’t going to apologize for pursuing what had once been her dream and was now her dream again.
“I started this week,” Astrid added. “I’m working with your brother, actually.”
“Oh, interesting,” Miranda said. “He didn’t mention it.”
There was a distinct stiffening of Astrid’s posture as she took a healthy slug of her drink. Tara knew that Astrid wanted desperately to be taken seriously. All Tara could do to help with that was to put her in a position to prove herself. After that, it was all up to her.
“Yes. They’re working on the Seaport Promenade project with the city. I think it will be a real boon if we can land it.”
Miranda smiled quietly, seeming wistful as she took a sip of her ginger ale. “Johnathon really wanted to do that project. Grant fought him on it. Hard.”
“I heard about that, but I think it’s all worked out. We’re moving forward with your brother as lead architect.” Tara didn’t want to mention that Grant’s reasoning for staying out of it was because Johnathon had ruffled a lot of feathers with the city over the years. Miranda likely already knew about it, and if she didn’t, Tara didn’t want to disparage Johnathon. Miranda was carrying his baby, after all.