Because of Audrey. Mary Sullivan

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      His chest hurt and his throat ached, locked as he was suddenly and inexplicably in that grief again. It happened too often, brought on by nothing and everything.

      A movement to his right caught his eye, breaking the spell of pleasure/pain the dog brought out in him. Audrey turned from the flowers she was arranging and watched him silently. Beneath wariness, he could almost detect compassion in her eyes, but why? What was she thinking? What did she see in him?

      He looked away from that knowing gaze and down at the long-haired brown-and-white beauty. “What’s his name?”

      “Jerry.”

      Gray thought about the dog’s name and did a double take. “Isn’t he a springer spaniel?”

      “Yep.” She waited, watched, wondering whether he would get the joke. He got it all right. Jerry Springer Spaniel.

      If he weren’t so pissed off at the woman, he’d laugh. Her sense of humor was every bit as quirky as her style.

      “Yeah?” he asked, feeling the rare hint of a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. “Who are his parents?”

      “We don’t know the father. We’ve done DNA tests, though. The results promise to be shocking. We think his mother slept around. It could get ugly.”

      Audrey leaned her elbow on the counter and rested her chin on her fist. Her other hand sat on her cocked hip. She had good hips—ample and shapely. A smile tipped the corners of her lush red lips, pride in her own joke.

      That tiny smile did a number on his equanimity, threatened to turn him soft, to treat her with tenderness when he couldn’t afford to. If he had any hope in hell of pulling his family out of the mess they were in, he had to hang tough.

      He straightened and removed his hand from the dog’s head, denying both himself and the dog pleasure. These days, Gray was more at home with pain.

      “Sell me the land.”

      He’d shocked her. She stepped behind the counter, putting distance between them. “No.”

      “I can move your plants to other greenhouses. At my cost.”

      “Moving them at this stage would kill them. Besides, the nearest greenhouses are miles away. I don’t even know if there are any available.”

      Damn. “I can research it.”

      “No, I won’t risk killing my plants by disturbing them. I don’t have to. I own that land legally.”

      “How much do you want for it?”

      “Nothing. I’m keeping it.”

      “I can give you far more than the plants you’re growing are worth.”

      “No.”

      His jaw, where all his tension centered, cramped. “What’s your problem? They’re only flowers.”

      “What’s your problem?” she countered. “Is money all you think about?”

      “These days? Yes.”

      “Money is not all that matters in life,” she asserted.

      It is if it saves my mother, my family, our business and all its employees. He would never say this to her or to anyone else in town. He would never show vulnerability to an opponent or give her ammunition to use against him.

      As far as the business went, only Gray and his accountant knew how close to the edge they were. As far as Gray knew, he was the only one who’d received the letter. That could change, though, if the woman didn’t get what she wanted. I’ll go to the newspapers.

      The thought of the tawdry truth splashed across newspaper headlines, the thought of his mother finding out about Dad in that way, in any way, left Gray chilled. Desperate.

      He thought of how Mom had looked this morning, fragile yet perky, about as classy a woman as he’d ever known.

      How could he let this destroy her?

      How could he get Audrey to sell? Now? Today?

      “Name your price,” he demanded, an incredibly stupid move for a smart businessman, but he needed that land.

      “I don’t have one.”

      “Everyone does. What’s yours?”

      “Gray, leave my shop.”

      “No. Not until you promise to sell to me.”

      A frown formed between her dark arched eyebrows, and she edged her hand toward the telephone. “Seriously, Gray, go now or I’ll call the police.”

      “No.” He couldn’t, not until she agreed.

      She reached under the counter for...what?...a gun? For mace?

      He was frightening her. He might be mad to get the land, and she might be the strangest woman he’d ever met, but scaring her was unconscionable. Intimidation to get her to sell? Yes. Outright frightening her? Dead wrong.

      He backed away.

      “Think about it,” he said, the slightest thread of recklessness seeping into his voice. As a businessman, he was making mistakes left, right and center.

      She shook her head, and there was such implacability, such conviction in the movement he knew she would never sell, no matter how high his price.

      When he turned and left, desperation wrapped around his throat like a noose. He was going to have to do the unthinkable and have Dad declared unfit.

      No. Before he did that, he would drive into Denver and see this woman for himself.

      He couldn’t wait—for DNA results, for the woman’s next move, for another damn day. On the heels of that thought, he swore. He couldn’t leave today. He had an appointment with Dad’s accountant that couldn’t be put off.

      Tomorrow then. He’d go to Denver first thing tomorrow.

      Time for a showdown.

      CHAPTER THREE

      GRAY SAT IN his car for ten minutes getting his emotions under control, and then started the drive down Main toward Turner Lumber on the end of town opposite to where his parents lived. He couldn’t go home to face them.

      Not yet. Not while he considered, let alone actually started, the process toward turning against his father.

      He noticed a woman he’d gone to school with walking down the sidewalk. She was one of the descendants of the original founding father, Ian Accord. She carried herself with an elegance and grace, with an air of confidence Gray had often witnessed among the rich. Wealth was a language he himself spoke, and being tongue-tied by his current money problems disheartened him.

      Down СКАЧАТЬ