Authors: Joan Kilby
“Wonderful,” she murmured, her gaze riveted to her phone.
“If you like that, you’ll love what I’m planning for when we get home,” he teased, knowing she hadn’t been referring to him.
“Mind out of the gutter, Thornton.” She pushed his hand away, then rapidly thumb-typed another text message. “I’m working.”
He replaced his hand on the steering wheel. “Who have you been communicating with for the past half hour? Is it Tod? Has Lorraine sent some good news?”
“Forget Lorraine, at least for now. Remember I told you about another potential angel investor?” She flicked him a glance. “I’ve set up a meeting. We can go straight there if you want.”
“Now? A business meeting on Sunday afternoon?”
“He’s flying to Beijing in the morning. He’ll see us at his home.” She tapped away at the tiny keyboard on her phone. “There, I’ve just e-mailed him the tech and marketing reports I gave Lorraine.”
Scott frowned. “Are you sure you should have done that before we meet him? How do you know he’s not working for PacTech?”
“He’s not. I trust him.”
“Well, who is this person? What’s his name?”
“Oh, you don’t know him,” Cassy said quickly, then pointed at a road sign. “Isn’t that our exit?”
“Yep.” He checked his mirrors, then shot over to the far right lane just in time to make the turnoff. “Surely you can tell me something about him.”
“He’s a wealthy Seattle businessman with national and international interests in IT and office equipment. He’s looking for an investment, has scads of money to spend, and he’s interested in your product.”
“Sounds perfect.” Scott was tired, needed a change of clothing, and would rather take Cassy home to bed than attend a business meeting, but knowing they had another option gave him a boost of energy. He stepped on the accelerator. If pushing himself would end the weekend with a definite win, then that’s what he would do.
But did this guy sound too perfect? After an inconclusive result with Lorraine, he was wary. As he slowed for a red traffic light ahead, he turned to Cassy. “What’s the catch?”
She snapped her phone shut and lifted her wide amber gaze to his. With a shrug she replied lightly, “No catch.”
…
Forty minutes later, Cassy directed Scott to a mansion in a prestigious area of Seattle’s waterfront. She made another brief phone call as they approached the security gates and the massive wrought iron barriers swung inward. She had her fingers crossed that Scott’s long avoidance of anything to do with his father meant that he wouldn’t know this was Ian’s residence.
“Whoever this guy is, he must be loaded.” Scott parked in the circular drive beneath an imposing portico supported by marble columns.
“Oh, he is.” Once inside, she hoped some vestige of family feeling would convince Scott to have a meaningful discussion with Ian. Even if they only talked business, that would be a good start and extremely important in its own right. Yes, she should have told him who he was meeting, but he would never have agreed. Eventually, he would see that this was for his own good and thank her. She hoped.
She touched her palms against her skirt and pressed the doorbell. With luck, a maid would let them in. If Scott was confronted unexpectedly by his father, he was liable to turn around and get straight back in the vehicle.
The door opened. An expensively groomed blond woman in her late forties wearing a short black sheath and a lot of tasteful silver jewelry flickered her gaze from Scott to Cassy and back to rest on Scott with a curious smile. “Hi, I’m Serena. You must be Scott and Cassy. Come this way please.”
Serena, no doubt Ian’s wife or girlfriend, led them across the marble foyer and ushered them into a spacious study filled with teak and leather. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined two walls. A large window looked onto a garden with a glimpse of a tennis court in the background.
“Please take a seat,” Serena said, indicating the leather club chairs grouped around a coffee table. “I’ll tell Ian you’re here.” She went out and shut the door.
“Nice place.” Cassy glanced around, biting her lip, waiting for Scott to figure things out.
“
Ian?
” Scott said. “Please tell me this is a coincidence and that you didn’t drop me into a meeting with my father without my knowledge.” He loomed over her, his expression black. “Or permission.”
She stood tall and squared her shoulders, fixing Scott with a determined gaze. “He’s got decades of business experience, national and international connections, plus he has money to spend and he’s interested in your project. As you said yourself, he’s perfect.”
“He’s not perfect, he’s my father!” Hurt mingled with fury in Scott’s stormy green eyes. “How could you do this? You know I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“Not even if it means getting the Dreamcatcher on the market?” Cassy argued. “We can’t sit around and wait for Lorraine to make up her mind. Hello, PacTech? The situation is urgent, as you keep reminding everyone.”
A man cleared his throat. Ian Thornton entered the study, dressed casually in pressed jeans and a navy pullover. “Cassy. Good to see you again.” His eyes drank in Scott hungrily as he held out his hand. “Hello, son. I’m glad you came.”
Scott ignored the proffered hand. “I didn’t know who we were meeting or I would never have agreed. We won’t take up any of your valuable time. Come on, Cassy.”
“Not so fast.” She grabbed him by the shirtsleeve. “Your father is considering investing in your company. The least you can do is show him the courtesy of sitting down and talking about it.”
“I don’t need—or want—my father’s money,” Scott shot back. “I’ve come all this way on my own, no thanks to him. He’s not going to cash in on my invention now.”
“I’m not trying to ‘cash in’ on anything,” Ian said calmly. “I’m trying to help you. I know I wasn’t the best father when you were growing up. I wasn’t around much but I did care.”
“Spare me the movie-of-the-week painful confession bullshit,” Scott sneered. “If you’d cared you’d have raised me yourself instead of palming me off on my aunt and uncle.” Shaking off Cassy’s hand, he strode out of the study without a backward glance.
“Scott!” Cassy called. She turned to Ian. “Hang on, I’ll get him.”
“Let him go,” Ian said tightly. “He’s not interested in anything I can offer him.”
“He is. I promise you. Please, just give me five minutes to talk to him.” Without waiting for Ian’s answer she ran out and down the hall.
Scott’s hiking boots thudded dully on the marble floor of the entry hall. Cassy beat him to the double door and flung herself spread-eagle in front of it, barring his exit. “You can’t leave.”
“Get out of my way, Cassy.” His face looked harder than she had ever seen it. “I don’t want anything to do with you at the moment, either. You lied to me. You’ve never done that before in your life.”
“I had to,” she said desperately. “You never would have gone to him on your own even though he’s the logical choice as an angel investor. I did it for your own good.”
“I’ll judge what’s good for me.”
“You’re thirty years old, Scott. I know you felt abandoned. I know you are hurt and angry. But he can’t be all bad. By refusing to let him into your life, you’re continuing to let him affect you. Don’t you think it’s time you exorcized those demons?” She pointed down the hall. “Just talk to him. Give him, and yourself, a chance to heal the rift.”
“It’s not your job to fix my life,” Scott said coldly. “What I want from you is support. You’re supposed to be my friend. If you think this fake engagement means you can tell me how to live my life, then you’re overstepping the line.”
Oh, that was rich. The fake engagement was for his benefit, not hers. “Your problem is you’ve got too many people kowtowing and telling you you’re a genius,” Cassy fumed. “I
am
a friend, a true friend. My job is to tell you when you’re being a dickhead. And you’re being one right now.”
“I don’t know what Ian said to you to make you think he gives a shit about me, but it’s all a pack of lies. He doesn’t care about me. And I don’t give a flying fuck about him.”
“Yes, he does. And yes, you do, or else you wouldn’t be so angry.”
“I’m not angry. I’m cold and calm and…”
“You’re furious. I can tell. You get that thing where your skin goes white around the corners of your mouth when you’re really mad.”
“All right, I’m angry. I can’t believe you set me up. I can’t believe you’re on his side.”
“How stupid are you? I didn’t do this for his sake, I did it for yours.”
“Well, you made a mistake. I’m leaving.” When she still didn’t move aside, Scott’s nostrils flared. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way!”
“Okay, fine.” She threw up her hands. “I’ll get right out of your way. I’ll pack my bags and go home to Bellingham and you can find your own angel investor. Come Christmas, I’ll be lining up with fifty thousand other people to buy PacTech’s version of the Dreamcatcher.”
His face went pale. “You can’t leave me now. That’s blackmail.”
“But Scott, you don’t want me running your life,” she said sweetly. Then she rolled her eyes. “Have you already forgotten how you begged me to come to Seattle and do just that? I don’t want to give you an ultimatum but I swear, if you don’t go back in there and hear your father out, then I
will
leave. You don’t have to talk father and son stuff. Just give him a chance to prove himself as an investor.”
Scott hesitated. She could almost see his brain ticking over, trying to find a way around her threat. Part of her was simply glad he didn’t want to let her go—especially after that crack about her taking too much upon herself with the fake engagement. He had a hell of a nerve. Everything she’d done this past month had been for him. Her whole life put on hold. For him.
She didn’t regret that for a second, and it was really no sacrifice because this was Scott and she would do anything for him. She wanted so badly for him not to hurt inside. Anyone could give him financial advice and, yes, Dreamcatcher and the business were important, but family—now that’s what was really important. She complained about her mother and she took her father for granted, but she loved them and knew they loved her and would always be there for her. Whatever Ian’s faults, or his past mistakes, seeing him just now, so vulnerable when he looked at Scott, there was no doubt in her mind he wanted a relationship with his son. Why couldn’t Scott see that?
“Okay.” Scott threw his hands up. “I’ll give him ten minutes. Let’s get this over with.”
Cassy flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”
Scott didn’t kiss her back. Gently, but firmly, he removed her arms. “I’m still mad at you.”
“Mad
about
me,” she corrected. He frowned harder, which just meant he was trying not to smile. She decided to take that as an encouraging sign. Linking her arm with his, she turned him toward the study. “You’ll see, this will work out. I have a really good feeling about this.”
…
Scott was glad
she
had a good feeling because he had a bad one. He stole a sideways glance at Cassy, marching him down the hall with so much fierce determination, thinking she had to heal him. He loved that she cared so much. But for God’s sake, he wasn’t broken. He was simply justifiably angry. It would serve her right if he called her bluff and let her go home. Except that scenario created a cold, sick hollow in the pit of his stomach that threatened to swallow him whole. Anyone else could find him financing, but she’d become essential to him in more ways than he could count since she’d moved into his penthouse. And he didn’t just mean positions in bed. Bottom line was, he wanted her at his side more than he wanted to punish his father.
But his steps slowed as they approached the study. He hadn’t spoken to Ian in years, unless he counted the brief stilted exchanges during Christmas at Aunt Lynn and Uncle Rob’s house, when his father popped in for an hour in the afternoon. Ian was never there for the gift opening or the roast turkey dinner. He made an appearance, had one drink, then left as quickly as he could. After a couple of years of getting excited, then disappointed, Scott stopped talking to him or acknowledging his presence. He had feigned indifference and eventually he had felt indifferent. He was fine with that now. Why stir up old, painful emotions?
The study was empty.
“Typical,” Scott snorted. “When the going gets tough emotionally, he takes off.”
“Who does that remind me of?” Cassy murmured at his side.
“Hey, I’m not the one on trial here.”
“Ah, you’re back. Good.” Ian entered the room. “I’ve asked Serena to bring us coffee. You haven’t met my wife before today. We’ve been married nearly five years now.”
“What is she, the third or fourth Mrs Thornton?” Scott asked. “I’m surprised you didn’t go for a trophy bride. Men of your age and wealth usually do.” Being deliberately obnoxious wasn’t making him feel any better or more superior.
“Serena’s my third wife. I do consider her quite a prize,” Ian said evenly. “Please, sit down.”
Cassy sat and patted the couch. Scott lowered himself reluctantly next to her. He didn’t relax back the way she did but perched stiffly on the edge of the seat.