Challenge Accepted - A Contemporary Romance (14 page)

BOOK: Challenge Accepted - A Contemporary Romance
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Retaining possession of her hand, Cole shook his head with mock mournfulness. "How cruel of your father to deprive us Bayville boys of your charming presence all those years ago."

"I'm sure you wouldn't have found me charming, Mr. Whittier. I was a very ordinary child," Elinor retorted.

"Now, that," he said with raised eyebrows, "I cannot believe."

Elinor did bite her lip then. Something about this man made her want to laugh even when she knew she shouldn't. His smile invited her to laugh with him, which was pretty ridiculous when she could see that he was laughing at her.

The mayor stood watching their interchange, his astute gaze flying back and forth between them. "I must agree with Cole," he joined in, bantering. "Such a remarkable woman as Elly must have been a lovely child. Did you know, Cole, that our Elly runs an accounting business?"

Cole shook his head, still smiling at her as she tugged her hand free.

"Yes, yes. She keeps half the town's books straight," the mayor joshed.

"That must be quite a job," Cole said.

"Not really," Elinor denied, longing for a bolt hole to avoid the intensity of his scrutiny.

"Well, why don't we all sit down," the mayor suggested to her relief. "Cole, you sit here at this end. The rest of you find your places."

The other council members hurried to their seats, their faces excited and hopeful. Elinor slid into her seat, puzzled. What reason did Cole Whittier have to sit in on the council meeting? She'd assumed the mayor had merely invited him by to show off. Millionaires weren't common in northeast Louisiana, and Mayor Stephens's political aspirations were well known. Bagging a local millionaire as a supporter would be quite a coup.

"Okay, everyone," the mayor began. "Let's deal with our regular agenda so we can get to some very exciting news." He beamed, his smile growing wider as it stopped on Cole.

In the next half hour, the mayor, acting with unusual efficiency, raced the council members through the items on their agenda. When the last item had been addressed, he cleared his throat impressively.

"Because Cole here is a loyal Bayville son, and because our little town has a lot going for it..." The mayor paused before continuing. "... we have the possibility of a new Whittier Incorporated factory being built in Bayville."

An excited babble erupted around the long table. Elinor frowned. She vaguely remembered hearing of Whittier Incorporated, but she couldn't remember what the company produced.

The mayor launched in. "Cole's looking at a piece of land, the old Lanier property, down by the river. And if he decides on that land, he
'd like the town council to consider some zoning changes. But before we do that, we'll need to see what kind of tax incentives we can offer Whit- tier, Inc. I think with the kind of revenue a project of this size would bring to Bayville that a sizable property tax reduction is reasonable—"

"Mayor?" Elinor broke in as the older man took a breath. "Before we get down to tax reductions, don't you think Mr. Whittier should give us some more information? Like how large a factory? How many workers he'll be employing? Exactly what the factory will produce?"

Several other council members around the table nodded their agreement as she spoke.

"Of course, of course, E
lly," Mayor Stephens agreed testily. "We'll get to all of that. But I think we could make some tentative offers in good faith. After all, Cole grew up here. He's not likely to do a dirty deal on his own hometown."

Elinor straightened the papers in front of her. "I wasn't suggesting that Mr. Whit
tier was attempting anything underhanded. I'm simply interested in looking at the impact on the town before we commit ourselves to anything. Bayville isn't exactly impoverished. We have a very rich agricultural base here. And with that in mind, it's important to look at any possible environmental concerns."

"You're perfectly right, Elly," the older man replied, his tone of voice much less affectionate than earlier.

"If I may intervene?" Cole spoke up. "My company is compiling a complete prospectus for the council members. I believe we will be able to answer all your questions and more."

He paused, smiling easily at Elinor. "In the meantime, I can tell you that we're talking about a sizable plastics factory which would employ from two hundred to four hundred workers from this area."

Once again, the council members' voices raised in enthusiastic murmurs.

Elinor met Cole's smile with dismayed eyes. Plastics factory? The image
conjured up environmental nightmares. Only two years ago, an accident in a plastics manufacturing plant in Mississippi had left a terrifying toxic nightmare.

"Now, come to order, folks," the mayor intervened. "I know we're all excited but we've gotta give Cole some time to work out the details." He pushed back his chair. "We'll adjourn today and plan on nailing everything down at the meeting next month."

Elinor remained seated as the others rose and prepared to leave. When she'd heard that Cole Whittier was back in town, it never occurred to her that he'd have this kind of impact on the town. Bayville had a certain sleepy charm, a middle-America feel that was precious to her.

"You have reservations,
Elinor." Cole's low voice startled her as he slid into the empty seat beside her.

"Reservations?" she stalled, deliberately not meeting his eyes.

"About the project," he clarified. "About me."

She straightened the papers in front of her again. "Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Whittier. I don't know enough about either one to make a judgment."

"That can easily be rectified," he suggested, the soft tone of his voice finally seducing her into looking at him.

Heaven only knew, looking at Cole Whittier would never be a hardship. Turned to face her, he was so close that his knees brushed against her chair. A clean, male scent drifted up to Elinor as he leaned closer.

"Well, Cole," Mayor Stephens's voice broke in, "I think that went pretty well, don't you?"

"Not too badly," Cole responded, his eyes still locked on Elinor's face.

"I think we're halfway to a satisfactory understanding," the mayor proclaimed, apparently unaware that he was intruding on his wealthy patron's amorous pursuits.

Elinor wasn't unaware, and she could have kissed Bob Stephens's round face fo
r inadvertently providing a distraction. She needed a lot of things in her life. A new set of tires on the Toyota, a helpful informant in the IRS, even a way to reach her crotchety, deteriorating grandfather. But she didn't need Cole Whittier.

"We're not quite that close to an understanding, Mayor," Cole said pulling back slightly as if knowing his nearness shut down her respiratory functions. "I think some of the council members have concerns."

"Concerns?" blustered the mayor. "Why, I can't imagine who'd have serious concerns about this project."

"I have, Mayor," Elino
r admitted eyeing Cole with dislike. She felt maneuvered into declaring herself. There wasn't a trace of smugness in his face, but she knew without a doubt that he was pleased with the turn of the conversation.

"Now, Elly. This factory is goin' to be great for Bayville. You can't mean to stand in the way of progress—"

"I'm sure," Cole interrupted smoothly, "that Ms. Prescott has legitimate and heartfelt questions—"

"Thank you," Elinor said with equal smoothness.

"—And who better than I," Cole smiled "to answer those questions? Are you free for dinner this evening, Ms. Prescott?"

Elinor gaped, caught off guard by the sudden twist in the discussion.

"Why, that'd be great!" the mayor beamed, comprehension finally dawning on his face. "A nice quiet dinner for talking business." He winked at Cole. "I'm sure the two of you can reach a mutually satisfactory agreement."

"But we need to discuss this with the entire council," Elinor protested, floundering for an escape.

"Nonsense, honey," Mayor Stephens chuckled. "Why would Cole want to have dinner with that bunch of prunes?"

 

 

Who'd have thought old man Prescott's granddaughter would be so attractive? Cole couldn't suppress the curl of his mouth as he opened the oversize menu.

She sat across the table, her peach dinner dress clinging to her delectable curves. The just above the knee length was perfectly respectable; nevertheless, Cole had caught a groin-tightening flash of white thigh as he handed her into the limo earlier this evening. There was no way she could know how good she looked or she wouldn't have let him come anywhere near her.

Elinor Prescott watched him like a mouse watches a cat. Somehow she'd decided his interest was predatory, and she wasn't making any sudden moves. Cole hoped he could reassure her. It would make their eventual coming together much more satisfying.

That they would come together was a foregone conclusion. A ripple of heat had seared Cole's gut the moment he'd laid eyes on Ms. Prescott. And although she'd shuttered her expression quickly, Cole had seen an answering flare of desire in her face.

Cole focused on the Le Monde's menu. He had brought her here deliberately, but she had done no more than glance at the elegant dec
or of the most exclusive restaurant in the parish, leaving Cole to wonder if she dined here frequently. Le Monde was a rare haven of gleaming cutlery and heavy linen table covers, perfectly suited for the heiress of Oakleigh.

He frowned briefly. It seemed odd that he'd never heard of Elinor's existence until today. Never, in all the years his father had labored futilely to maintain the huge house, had old man Prescott men
tioned the existence of a granddaughter. Or any grandchildren, for that matter.

Cole knew he couldn't question her too closely about this curious circumstance. Elinor Prescott didn't know of his connection to Oakleigh, and he preferred to keep it that way.

He'd gone through a broker to make his offer on the house just a month before, and taken great pains that his identity not leak out.

It was a challenge of sorts, to buy the plantation house out from under Daniel Prescott. Sure, Cole could have waited a few more years. Prescott was already old when Cole had been a grubby lit
tle kid roaming Oakleigh's overgrown grounds. He couldn't live much longer.

But the memories rankled. How many times had Cole watched as Daniel Prescott belittled his father, deriding John Whittier's decision not to seek work on the off-shore drilling rigs?

Elinor glanced up over her menu and met his eyes. Cole smiled reassuringly. Regardless of what had happened between her grandfather and him, Cole wanted this woman. That she was the granddaughter of a man he despised added only the slightest spice to it. She wasn't what he would have expected from the Prescotts. Worshipping the trappings of wealth clearly wasn't her style. Her scornful glance at his limo had made that plain.

Cole knew he was facing a tough sale, tougher perhaps than anyone in Bayville. The woman wasn't wooed by the money he could bring
to the town. And whenever he approached her, she prickled like a hedgehog. But the fact didn't faze him. She reacted to him, and that was a start.

A waiter materialized at Cole's side and took their orders.

"So tell me about your work," Cole invited, when the man had gone.

"I work out of my home, do accounting for a number of small businesses," Elinor responded, her face serene as her fingers fiddled with her napkin. "Routine stuff, usually."

"It's the routine stuff that sinks most small businesses," Cole observed. "I bet your clients don't even realize how important you are to them."

She flushed ever so faintly, struggling, he knew, with the urge to demur that trembled on her tongue. He'd have to step lightly in his campaign to win her over. Modest women took a certain amount of finesse.

If he came right out and said that he found her powerfully, gloriously seductive, she'd be so aghast, she'd turn tail and run.

"I'm not so sure about that," Elinor said finally, after a large swallow of wate
r from her glass. "But I've managed to keep most of them from death-by-audit."

Cole laughed then. "Good grief, woman, you can do that? I've needed someone like you for years. The IRS seems to gobble up my tax attorneys and spit them out."

"You are in a slightly different bracket from my clientele," she observed, her voice cool. "I'm sure I wouldn't be of any help to you."

"Don't sell yourself short," Cole suggested softly. "Haven't you heard that good help is hard to find?"

"I have heard something of the sort," she agreed dryly, "but I don't have much personal experience with that particular problem since I haven't tried hiring servants recently."

"I'm not too interested in servants," Cole said with a touch of compassion, knowing it must be difficult for her to accept the financial ruin of the great Prescotts of Oakleigh. "But I am determined to get the very best personnel for the Whittier plant in
Bayville. And I think you're excellent executive material."

Dangling the carrot, Elinor thought. "No, I don't think so, thank you. I'm happy with my own business." She despised the ways of politics and big business, the subtle exchange of favors.

BOOK: Challenge Accepted - A Contemporary Romance
11.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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