Acquiring Mr. Right. Laurie Paige

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      Lance glanced at Krista after he parked at the Rosevale Grand Inn. When he’d told her he’d arranged lunch for them at the inn so they wouldn’t be interrupted while they talked, she’d agreed readily enough. However, like the elderly secretary who guarded the CEO’s door, she hadn’t exactly been thrilled at his plans.

      “This way,” he said, placing a hand in the small of her back to guide her to the garden pathway that led to the terrace, now used as an extension of the restaurant. It was his favorite place to dine and think things through.

      The waitress, a friendly redhead who’d joked with him during the many weekends he’d spent there of late, smiled as he went to his usual table, glanced at Krista, then gave him a mock scowl as if reprimanding him for arriving with another woman.

      Krista, he saw, noted the byplay but kept any reaction to herself.

      “I’ve been staying here almost every weekend while deciding whether to add Heymyer to our holdings, also during the negotiations.” He explained the familiarity, then wondered why he had.

      He rarely justified his actions and choices to anyone anymore, figuring that was his private business.

      His grandfather’s tyrannical voice suddenly echoed in his head. “Just what is the reason for this B on your report card?”

      “What is the meaning of this speeding ticket?”

      “You’re taking who to the dance? She’s nobody—”

      “So was my mother,” Lance had dared to say at seventeen, as he headed for the door. “But your son still married her.”

      “He was a fool,” Claude Carrington had shouted after him. “I warned him…”

      But Lance hadn’t heard the rest. He’d left the hated library where his grandfather called him on the carpet at regular intervals, and he’d never looked back.

      Glancing at the lovely woman across the table, he realized if he’d kowtowed to his grandfather’s wishes to join his investment firm, he would never have started his own company, might never have met this woman.

      Now that would have been a shame, as she was easily one of the most intriguing people he’d met in a long time, whether male or female.

      “I looked you up on the Internet last night,” she said. “There wasn’t a lot of information in the financial magazines. You’ve only given one in-depth interview that I could find.”

      “That damned article,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “I should never have allowed it.”

      “So why did you?” she asked, openly curious.

      “It was for a friend. He needed to prove he had access to people the editor couldn’t otherwise get. We were roommates at college so I agreed.”

      “An Ivy League college. Honors. Top ten percent of your class,” she reiterated as if reading his accomplishments on a tickertape.

      A slight shifting in that cold place that existed deep within his psyche ruffled his enjoyment of sparring with this woman who watched him as closely as he did her.

      He shrugged. “My grandfather’s alma mater. I had no choice.”

      Into his mind’s eye sprang an image—that of a young woman, one who’d once been beautiful beyond compare but now looked weary and worn out.

      His mother.

      Sober for the first time in months, his parents had stood silently in the corridor outside the courtroom where his grandfather had just won custody of him.

      His mother had stooped and looked directly into his eyes while his dad had stared stonily at his grandfather. “We’ll get you back,” she’d said. “Your father and I…we’ll change. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

      “Okay,” he’d said, believing her.

      “Be a good boy,” she’d whispered, squeezing his shoulders. “I love you.”

      “I love you, too. You and Dad.”

      She’d hugged him and kissed him, her tears spilling all over his face, until his grandfather had pulled him away and marched him out of the courthouse.

      He would never forget that day. His tenth birthday. The last time he’d seen either of his parents alive.

      Lance pushed the image into the place that, as a child, he’d imagined as a cold storage locker, a place where old memories could be safely hidden.

      “CEO of your own company at twenty-two,” she continued. “Fortune has smiled on СКАЧАТЬ