The Takeover Bid. Leigh Michaels

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      Wyatt could smell danger. She looked as if she was having a good time. This was not going quite as he’d planned.

      “No, I don’t,” she said. “In fact, I think that price is pretty steep—for his half.”

      Half? The bonehead had never bothered to mention that he only owned half of the business. And that surprises you, Reynolds?

      Or was it Mel Stafford who was pulling a con, trying to convince Wyatt to give up and go away?

      He must have looked suspicious, but she drew herself up squarely. “I have all the paperwork to prove that Jackson’s a half owner.”

      Now he was really leery. “Right. It’s here somewhere. And I’m sure you’ll be happy to dig it out and show it to me someday—when you have enough time. Probably around the turn of the next century. Come on, Ms. Stafford, stop trying to run a bluff on me.”

      “I assure you, it’s no bluff. Jackson’s father was a small-town mechanic. How he ended up owning half a junkyard, I’m not quite sure—”

      Wyatt didn’t think his expression had changed an iota, but she paused and looked at him thoughtfully.

      “Oh, yes,” she admitted, “your assessment was quite right. It does resemble a junkyard, because it used to be one. It’s only in the last couple of years that it’s taken on a new role.”

      “And become some kind of gold mine.”

      She frowned. “More like opals, I’d say. We shovel tons and tons of debris to find one small jewel.”

      The woman sounded absolutely serious. But she couldn’t be for real. Could she?

      “At any rate,” she went on, “Jackson’s father ran the junkyard for years, stripping and selling parts now and then, but mostly just piling up more and more odd bits of vehicles. Where he got them all, I have no idea. When he died a couple of years ago and Jackson inherited, he wasn’t too wild about the idea of being a junk man, so he immediately started talking about selling out.”

      “For half a million dollars.”

      “That was the price he named, yes. Of course, nobody’s been crazy enough to actually pay him that much.” Her eyes were very wide, very innocent, very green. “Until now.”

      And for your information, lady, nobody’s been that crazy yet. But if she hoped a fishing expedition was going to get her the information she wanted, she’d have to improve the caliber of the bait, because Wyatt wasn’t biting. “So if Jackson’s dear old dad only owned half, who had the rest?”

      “My father,” she said. “Who left his share to me.”

      Wyatt knew he should have seen it coming. He should have known from the very beginning that getting involved with Jackson was like playing chicken with a diesel locomotive—somebody was bound to get hurt. He just hadn’t thought far enough ahead to realize it could be him who ended up pasted to the rails.

      She looked up dreamily at the ceiling. “So now that you know the whole story, I’m sure you’ll want to hunt up Jackson and bail out of your agreement. Remember? I did tell you that you’d regret letting him leave this morning.”

      “I’m not going to hunt him down.” His voice felt as flat as it sounded.

      “But—” He saw consternation flare in her eyes. “But since he didn’t exactly tell you the whole story—”

      “No, he didn’t,” Wyatt said grimly.

      “Then that’s fraud.”

      “Probably so.”

      “And that means the deal’s off. If you didn’t understand what you were buying, then he can’t hold you to the agreement.”

      “Unfortunately,” Wyatt said, “it wasn’t that sort of agreement. So the bottom line, Ms. Stafford, is that you’ve got yourself a new partner.”

      For the first time since he’d walked into the office, he felt the stir of satisfaction—because Mel Stafford’s face looked even greener than Jackson’s had.

      CHAPTER TWO

      PARTNER?

      For a few seconds, Melanie was afraid she’d forgotten how to breathe—because when she tried it was like inhaling icicles. Take it slowly, she told herself. A little bit of air at a time.

      The entire situation was perfectly clear—at least to her—and the appropriate response was obvious. But apparently the man sitting across the desk from her didn’t see it the same way, or he wouldn’t have blithely announced that he was going to be her new partner.

      How on earth, she wondered, could anyone have actually agreed to buy a business without realizing that he was purchasing only half of it? Without checking things like a balance sheet or a profit-and-loss statement?

      And even if for some incredible reason the deal had gotten that far, then why hadn’t he gone storming out of the office to find Jackson and get his money back the instant he’d found out that he’d been taken for a ride?

      Melanie had been absolutely certain of her ground. As soon as the Baritsa man had announced that he was the new boss, she’d known exactly what had happened. What must have happened.

      So all she had to do, she’d thought, was to straighten out this flaw in his thinking. Once she had corrected his mistaken impression that he’d bought the entire business, the rest would take care of itself.

      Or, rather, he would take care of it. Exactly how he chose to clear up the mess was none of her business. If he chose to settle matters with Jackson by beating him to a pulp, that would be too bad for Jackson, of course. But if Jackson was idiot enough to mislead a prospective buyer, he deserved whatever he got. It wasn’t up to Melanie to interfere.

      But now it seemed that the prospective buyer wasn’t even going to try to straighten out the mess.

      It wasn’t that sort of agreement, he’d said. You’ve got a new partner.

      Which made no sense at all. Why would he sit still for being taken like that?

      Of course, it was becoming increasingly clear to Melanie that Jackson hadn’t been the only fool involved in the deal. Agreeing to buy a business without even knowing for sure what kind of merchandise it carried, without looking over the stock, without checking out the bottom line to be certain the seller was telling the truth—

      “That’s the sort of thing my father would have done,” she muttered.

      “Pardon me?”

      “Nothing.” But at last a little light had dawned in Melanie’s head.

      Nobody would make a deal like that, blindly and without investigation, if he thought there was a chance he was being cheated. But the only kind of person who wouldn’t have a healthy dose of skepticism over an offer of that sort was one who thought he was getting a sure thing. Or СКАЧАТЬ