He was one of those rare individuals who commanded attention whether they were in a boardroom or on a boardwalk. Or in a tiny bistro on the edge of a lake.
Her mother leaned close, whispered, “Sit up straight, Jennifer, and smooth your hair.”
She barely heard what her mother was saying, because at that moment his gaze connected with hers. “Ms. Beckinsale,” he said when he reached her table. His voice was deep and low.
“Y-yes.” She cleared her throat. He was so close she could see the faint lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes; something told her those creases hadn’t been caused by laughter. More than likely, judging by his tan, they’d been caused by a life spent outdoors.
“Hello.” He flashed her a killer grin, showing off his perfect white teeth. Spellbound, all she could do was stare. Dimly, she became aware of a movement to her left and belatedly remembered her mother. “This is my mother, Catherine Beckinsale.”
He turned and gave her mother that same bone-melting smile. “Ma’am.”
Jenny was surprised to see that her mother seemed rattled.
Catherine cleared her throat. “How do you do, Mr. . . . ?”
The visitor looked at Jenny when he responded. “Worth. Jared Worth.”
He waited, as if his name would have some effect on her, but all she could think about were his eyes. They weren’t brown, as she’d originally thought, but a deep, deep midnight blue framed by full, spiky lashes. And they seemed to reach inside to a part of her she’d kept buried for a long time.
There was a short pause, and then her mother filled in the silence. “Well, Mr. Worth, may I offer you something? A cappuccino? Espresso? Latte?”
He looked at her mother as if she were speaking Greek. “No.” And then as an afterthought, tacked on, “Thank you.”
Belatedly, Jenny’s business manners kicked in. “Please, Mr. Worth. Won’t you have a seat?” She motioned to one of the empty chairs at their table.
He continued to stand.
Seated, she tried not to feel at a disadvantage. Tried and failed. He was just too tall, too muscular, too good-looking. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the office when you arrived. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience for you.”
“No trouble at all.”
“Were you able to find the restaurant all right?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Phillips mentioned that you needed to speak to me right away.”
He glanced at her mother and then back to her. “I didn’t realize you were busy. I can come back later.”
She was never too busy for a client. “No, no. Now is just fine.”
For a moment she forgot her discomfort as she imagined her company’s bottom line floating away from the red zone and up toward the black. And her mother was here to witness it all.
He looked around the room. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
And have her mother miss this? No way.
“My mother is aware of my business dealings, Mr. Worth. Feel free to discuss whatever you need to in front of her.”
“I think it would be best if we had our chat in private.”
“Truly, Mr. Worth. There’s no problem.”
He let out a barely perceptible sigh, and it seemed to Jenny as if some of his bone-melting, megawatt-smiling, good-ol’-boy charm left him. “You’re Jennifer Beckinsale, correct?”
“Yes. I believe we’ve already established that.”
“The Jennifer Beckinsale who was engaged to Steven Harmon?”
Jenny wasn’t sure if it was her or her mother who drew in the sharp, quick breath at the mention of Steven’s name. It had been months since anyone had said his name out loud to her, and just the sound of it hurt. “Y-yes.”
“The Jennifer Beckinsale who was partnered with Steven Harmon in a seaplane charter business known as Blue Sky Air?”
She tried to ignore the pain at hearing Steven’s name again—tried to ignore her growing sense of unease—but she failed on both accounts. “I’m sorry, Mr. Worth, but I’m not sure what this has to do with anything. I thought you were here about a charter. About Blue Sky Air.”
“I am.”
“Oh.” His answer should have brought a sense of relief. “Why don’t you tell me your travel plans, and I’ll have my associate, Mr. Phillips, get in touch with you. With summer just around the corner, I’m sure you can understand that our schedule is not as open as in the winter months.”
Lies. Lies. Lies.
“But we will do everything we can to accommodate your travel needs. Blue Sky offers a wide range of travel options, from local trips in the Puget Sound area to frequent charters to the San Juans and British Columbia.”
“I don’t seem to be making myself clear. I’m not here to schedule a charter.”
“You’re not?”
“No. I’m here to discuss Blue Sky Air.”
“You want to discuss my charter business?”
“No, Miss Beckinsale, I want to discuss
our
business.”
“Excuse me?”
He let out another sigh; this one louder and more noticeable than the last. “I’m your partner.”
She laughed, but somehow her laughter fell flat. “I don’t have any partners. I am the sole owner of Blue Sky Air, and I don’t think this little joke of yours is very funny. Now, if you’re not here to book a charter, I think you should leave—”
“Christ.” He rubbed his hand across his face, then zeroed in on her again. “You really don’t have a clue what I am talking about.”
“You have no clue what you’re talking about, Mr. Worth. And it really is past time you were leaving.” He was sick. Demented. He needed help. Any other day of the week she might have offered to drive him to a doctor’s office . . . a hospital . . . a padded room with no door. But not today. Not with her mother sitting less than five feet away.
“I’m afraid it’s you who doesn’t have a clue,” he said. “Look at the contract; you’ll see that what I’m saying is the truth.”
“I don’t need to look at any contract. I am the sole owner of Blue Sky Air.”
He muttered something under his breath, and Jenny had the sinking feeling she should be glad she hadn’t been able to understand what he’d said. “You’re exactly like Steven described.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just like Steven said. All package, no product.”
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
He was lying. Steven would never have said anything like that about her. He’d loved her as much as she loved him. Anger jumped in front of her pain. “You need to leave. Now.” She tried to keep her voice steady. Strong. But her emotions were too raw, and she felt the start of tears burn the back of her eyes.
She stood up, knocking her chair over in her haste. Without bothering to right the chair, she headed straight for the door; she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
But before she could reach it, he was right behind her.
“This isn’t over.” His voice was low and sent a shiver down her spine. “Instead of doing your nails tonight, read the contract. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
Without looking at him, she wrenched the door open and ran.
TWO
Jenny stared at her brother across his large desk, feeling numb. “There has to be some mistake.”
“I’m sorry, Jenny, but there isn’t.”
It was the same thing her brother had been saying ever since she’d burst into his law office unannounced, undone, and, undoubtedly unwanted (although he hadn’t said as much). For all of Paul’s faults, turning away a family member in need wasn’t one of them. Of course, she was the only member of the family who was ever in need.
Within ten minutes of leaving her mother’s restaurant, she’d known she had no choice but to go to Paul. Not if she wanted to get rid of Mr. Jared Worth.
Organization, especially filing, had never been one of her strengths. She knew trying to locate the original business documents—or any documents, for that matter—in her office would be an exercise in futility. But Paul would have them. Organization
was
one of his strengths. One of his
many
strengths. After Steven’s death, and at Paul’s unwavering insistence, she’d made copies of all her important financial documents, stuffed them into an old apple box, and given them to her brother for safekeeping.
“There has to be some mistake,” she said again.
“Jennifer.” The paternally patient tone of her brother’s voice was beginning to wear on her. “There is no mistake. Jared Worth is your partner.”
“But how?”
Seated behind his imposing mahogany desk, in a high-backed leather chair, Paul looked every inch the confident, successful lawyer in his handmade suit, blue silk shirt, and matching tie. The bookcases that flanked two of the walls and the tastefully framed diplomas only sealed the deal.
“Jennifer,” he began in that same annoying tone once more, “have you heard anything I’ve said?”
“Yes.”
No
. She’d pretty much tuned out after the first time he’d said
partner
.
“Did you, by any chance, read this contract before you signed it?”
“Of course I did.”
Not.
He sighed heavily. Sometimes it just didn’t pay to consult an attorney who’d known you your whole life.
“Jennifer—”
“Please. No more
Jennifer
s.”
“I blame myself for this.”
That perked her up. It wasn’t often her brother admitted any wrongdoing, and if he wanted to take the blame for this, she was only too happy to let him.
“I should have insisted on being the attorney to draft the documents.”
“You did, but Steven wanted to use a friend from college.”
“I should have been more insistent.”
“His friend was an attorney.”
“I am aware of that, Jennifer. At the very least, I should have been adamant on reviewing everything before you were allowed to sign.”
She was just about ready to remind her brother that he had asked to see the documents before she signed them, but the moment he got to
allowed
, she clammed up. Her whole family thought she was a screwup. And quite honestly, she was tired of their assessment. She wasn’t . . . not really . . . well, at least not always.
“Furthermore,” Paul continued, “when I insisted on storing duplicates of your company’s documents after Steven’s death, I should have made sure to review them then.”
Jenny wrapped her arms around her waist, wishing she would have spent those few extra minutes this morning searching for her sweater. She was bone-cold. She hugged herself tighter and tried to concentrate on something—anything—that could distance herself from what her brother was saying. From the moment she’d left her mother’s, her emotions had propelled her forward, but hearing Steven’s name spoken out loud so many times today was taking its toll. She wanted nothing better than to go back home, crawl into bed, and pull her comforter over her head. But that wouldn’t stop tomorrow from arriving . . . or Mr. Jared Worth. No, she was going to have to figure this out today, heartache or no heartache.
“But I still don’t understand how I could have a partner I’ve never heard of.”
Paul leaned back in his chair, looking very much like their dad. Except her dad still smiled at her and teased her. Somewhere between Little League and law school, her brother had lost his sense of humor.
Several seconds ticked by before he said, “You’re absolutely certain you don’t recall ever hearing the name Jared Worth before?”
“No. . . .” But there was something slightly . . . familiar about his name. On further thought, she’d probably heard it on the news when they were discussing a recent escapee from the mental hospital.
Paul shifted forward, propped his elbows on the top his desk, and pressed the tips of his fingers together. His gold cuff links sparkled in his desk’s high polish. “Let me try to explain this once more. Your initial start-up costs were provided by a loan.”
“Yes.” She wasn’t that dense. “From the bank.”
Instead of saying
Jennifer
, he just gave her the look. And that look was just as effective and just as annoying as hearing the word out loud.
“As I recall, you didn’t obtain a bank loan until some ten months into the start of your business.”
“It was a year,” she said, certain of at least that one fact. She remembered it perfectly. Steven had come back from his meeting at the bank all smiles and laughter. He’d scooped her into his arms, twirled her about.
One year, babe. One year to the day we’ve been in business. And with this new loan, I’ve guaranteed us a sound start to the second.
Her laughter had been as free and joyous as his. They’d celebrated by having dinner on the beach, and later, after the sun had disappeared and the only remnants of the fire they’d built had been a small pile of orange coals, they’d made love. It had been one of a hundred perfect nights she’d spent in his arms, and its memory was both unbearably painful and unthinkable to forget.
“All right, a year. So for the twelve months preceding, where did you think the capital was coming from to run Blue Sky?”
She hadn’t thought. Steven always took care of the financial side of the business while Jenny concentrated on the bookings and office work. “I . . .”
Her brother pinched the bridge of his nose and let out another sigh.
She didn’t know which were worse: the sighs or the
Jennifer
s.
“I don’t know what else I can tell you, Jennifer.”
The
Jennifer
s had it. By one.
He unsteepled his fingers and sorted through the small stack of papers on the edge of his desk. Locating the document he’d been looking for, he slid it across his desk toward her. “When Blue Sky Air was formed, you and Steven signed a loan agreement with one Jared Worth.” He gestured to the document in front of her.
Could he stop saying that odious man’s name?
“The loan was in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars.”