HowMuchYouWantToBet (9 page)

“Yeah. I’m not sure I can kowtow. There is a reason why I haven’t come to work for him.”

“I know what I said in there, but I want you to think about accepting.”

Shocked at her statement, it took Gib a moment to reply. “Why?”

“I’m going to sound like your father—it’s your birthright. Take a minute to realize how much your father has put into this business before you step away from it. Consider the fact that you don’t have to be the one in complete control. You don’t have to make every decision. You can hire someone to do it.”

“You, of all people, know what it’s like to get pressured to do something you don’t want to do.”

His mother’s face softened into a smile. “My father wanted me to have an education before I got married, and he wanted me to stay in Orlando.”

“You did none of those things, so why are you asking me to do what’s expected of me?”

“Because it may be what you need. We’ve spoiled you.” Victoria said it with a that’s-it face.

“It is time for you do to something, but let it be something you love. It’ll be the best job you ever have. Go talk to your father. I’ll greet Neil when she gets here and help her get settled.”

He mumbled his thanks with a quick hug and was instantly enveloped by the smell of gardenias, the smell of comfort. Gib let her go reluctantly and entered the study. Surprisingly, there were no bookshelves in this room. A huge desk took up most of the space, along with a few reading chairs.

Centering the room was a large bay window, hung with heavy velvet curtains that could stave off the cold winter air. In front of the fireplace, where the infamous Monet hung, his father stood with his back to the door.

From the way he stood like a lord of the manor, he should have been wearing a velvet smoking jacket. Instead, he was steeped solely in this era, in a dark business suit. Gib couldn’t remember a time when his father had worn casual clothing. He always seemed to be in the business mode, almost as if he was afraid to be caught doing something unbusinesslike.

“Hello, Father.”

Winn turned, faced him. Though he was Gib’s father, they looked nothing alike. Winn’s hair was black and straight, always cut short and brushed back. His black eyes looked him over. “Ran into your mother in the hallway?”

Gib nodded and moved to the chair beside his father, not wanting this meeting to be too formal. “She warned me, as usual, what this meeting would be about, even though whenever you summon me it’s about the same thing.”

“You don’t come home voluntarily. You know your mother and I like you underfoot. It’s different—and better—having a grown child rather than one who likes to ride on your shoulders.”

Gib was grateful that he was already sitting down, because he would have felt the need to. This was a first, for his father to admit having genuine feelings that didn’t pertain to how his business was doing. “Are you dying from something?”

Winn sat in the chair across from Gib’s, chuckled. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I think the old workaholic in me is dying. I missed a lot while you were growing up. I didn’t pressure you as a teen, but I’m sure the pressure was there.” Winn unbuttoned his suit jacket.

Gib thought this was the most comfortable he’d ever seen his father. He stood and walked over to the hidden bar behind the Monet, got himself a neat brandy, then sat down again. “What brought all this introspection on?”

“Your mother’s been making noises about traveling. It’s hard to make any plans outside of work when there are ten meetings set up in an hour’s schedule. And that’s not including actually tending to the run-of-the-mill business and the emergencies. A vacation isn’t possible, knowing I have to keep my phone on.”

Gib thought of what his mother had said. “Why don’t you hire someone who can handle all the small stuff? Free up some of your time.”

“I have a son who is the smartest business man I know. Why would I need to hire outside the family?” Winn sighed. “I guess that’s the problem. I’ve never bothered to ask you to take over completely or work at Winnfred Automotive full time. I didn’t want to pressure you, but now it’s time I do. Are you still working at
The Linton Herald?
”

“Not at the moment. I’ve been busy trying to get my house built.”

“Isn’t the young lady you brought home the worksite manager?”

His mother never was the type to keep confidences. “Yes.”

His father rubbed at his beard, not speaking for a moment. “Before I offer you the job, I’m going to ask if there is anything else you want to do? Have you, as they say, ‘found yourself’?”

Winn’s tone made him laugh. “I’m not a hippie. You could say I have, but it won’t interfere with me taking over. If I decide to take over, I’ll find a way to juggle it.”

Winn’s black eyebrows rose with the quick acceptance. “I was sure I was going to have to bribe you into taking my job.” Frowning, he continued. “Why ‘yes’?”

“It’s not a yes, it’s a maybe.”

“Same damn thing, if you ask me.”

Gib took a sip from his glass and let the warmth of the alcohol go through him as he acknowledged within himself that it was indeed time he started to think about it. It wasn’t a secret he avoided coming home for this particular reason.

But what other option did he have? Go back to school and become an architect, until it bored him like everything else he tried to do? Maybe it had something to do with the way Neil laughed at his résumé.

No, for Gib, it went deeper than that. He’d noticed the dark circles under his father’s eyes, his openness about how he felt about his work now.

Though part of him was still hesitant, Gib knew what he had to do. Winn would blow his top, but, then again, Gib would be the boss. “I’ll do the job only under one condition.”

“You think that’s wise, to pressure me?”

Ah, there’s the businessman who raised me.

Gib fought the urge to smile. “What are you going to do, disown me? Disinherit me? I have my own money, despite what everyone thinks about me. I’m well off without your money. The question is, is this a battle you want to fight?”

Winn leaned back in his chair. Gib held his breath, then let it out slowly. His father was the best in his business. No matter what he planned for the future, Gib would respect what his father built.

“I can’t say I’m too happy about having a condition to handing over my business to you.”

“You haven’t even heard my condition,” Gib said, knowing that, when Winn did hear it, it might be amusing to watch his eyes bug out of his head.

“Let me hear it.”

“When I take over, I make all the decisions. There won’t be any ‘I change my mind’ going on and you taking over again. I want it all in writing. You’ll finally take Mom to the Bahamas like she’s been hinting at since I was twelve.”

He heard his mother, out in the hall, saying, “Yes!” At least he wasn’t the only one in the family to eavesdrop.

“What you need to understand is that I’m not a workaholic. Things are going to have to change when I take over the company.” His father sat mute. A first. “I’ll give you a few days to think about it. My guest is probably somewhere cursing my existence.”

Winn stood from his throne, looking none too happy about the discussion. Gib didn’t feel guilty for being pleased at having a hand in giving him that expression. It was about damn time he made some of the rules.

Winn clapped him on the back, then asked, “Is this young lady the reason why you’re here parading your tail feathers?”

“No, and maybe,” Gib answered honestly.

“When am I going to meet her?”

Gib smiled, knowing exactly what Neil was doing at the moment. “After she’s done wiping off half the makeup Tiff slapped on her.”

CHAPTER 9

Gib was going to die a very slow death, Neil thought, as she stepped out of the limousine onto the front steps. Gib had known exactly what he was doing when he sent her into what hell would be like if it was a fashion design school. Tiff flourished in her role as fashion consultant.

All Neil had really wanted were some clothes that didn’t have paint splatters. But, no, that wasn’t good enough. She had to have Dior dresses, and Chanel shoes to match—don’t forget the scarves, earrings, necklaces and, if sometime around the thirtieth outfit she didn’t have murder in her eyes, matching underwear.

It wasn’t the outfits she disagreed with, necessarily. She liked the soft cashmere sweaters, the linen pants that actually gave her a rear, but the sheer amount of stuff, packed in the limousine trunk and in the seats beside her on the ride back, was overwhelming. She’d look inconsiderate if she complained. What bothered her was the bill Tiff had scrupulously hidden from her curious eyes. It made her want to choke.

Once again she was beholden to Gib, bound to him in a way that made it too hard to just walk away if she had to. She had walked out of his mother’s clothing store with thousands of dollars’ worth of merchandise. Neil ran a hand through her hair, which Tiff had somehow gotten to remain untangled, soft not brittle, and shiny.

Beholden.

Dammit.

Pulling at the emerald sweater, she waited for James to escort her and the bags into the house. She wasn’t stepping foot in there alone.

“This is going to take me at least two trips,” James said. “But I’ll show you where to go now. Gib should be anxious to eat, after the meeting with his father.”

Surprised at the man’s boldness in telling the family’s business, she decided to oblige him to divulge the history. “Why is their relationship tense?”

James set the heavy bags down and leaned against the large white wooden door. “There are a number of reasons, the main one being that they are a lot alike. Gib tries not to be an uptight business man and Winn…”

“That’s his father’s name?” Neil asked, smiling. Maybe there was some truth to Freudian psychobabble.

“Actually, it’s his nickname. He tries not to be a wild child with no direction.” James, with his sturdy frame, lifted all the bags again. “The funny thing is, both of them are both. Gib is a ruthless business man, but he’s also considerate of others. I see him as a legitimate Robin Hood. Winn was bored the day he tweaked his suspension system, but he was smart enough to know that he had something. One day they’ll get along.”

When he shifted again, Neil stepped forward and took half the bags. His brown eyes widened in distress, but she shook her head. “I work in construction. A few pairs of shoes aren’t going to kill me if I carry them up a flight of stairs.”

He looked about to speak again, she walked past him and leaned against the door handle to open the door.

“I thought I heard voices out here on the patio,” a woman’s smooth voice said. To Neil’s embarrassment, she yelped in surprise, nearly fell into the foyer as the door opened, and bumped into James as she peddled back. The woman had hair the color of roasted chestnuts, just like Gib’s. Her feet were bare below the tailored slacks she wore with a flimsy red blouse.

James steadied Neil, then reached for the bags in Neil’s hand, not pausing even as she protested, breaking her eye contact with Gib’s mother.

“Let the man take them. It’s his job and you’re a guest. I see you enjoyed my little shop.”

“You’re Victoria?” Disbelief rang in her voice. She looked so carefree and young. “Gib’s mother?”

“I’m going to take that comment and run away with it.” She slung an arm through Neil’s and started down the hall toward the living room. “You think I’m too young to have a child Gib’s age. It’s all in the bone structure, sweetheart. Yours isn’t too bad, either.”

Not feeling violated by the woman’s outright appraisal of her face, Neil tried to take in the number of photographs and bookshelves in the room. One would have thought the room was overdone, but it worked. Light could filter in easily from the slanted sunroof and through the windows during the day. In the night hours the garden just outside would be well lit, showcasing the miles of wisteria. Startled by her hostess’s raised voice, Neil focused again on Victoria.

“I think you dazed off into La-La land for a moment. I’m going to tell you something I’m sure is going to scare you, but it needs to be said because, for one, I’m a woman, and, most importantly, I’m Gib’s mother. You are the first woman Gib has introduced to us since he grew a full beard. I know my son, and that must mean something.”

Neil didn’t know how to reply to the statement. Instead she said something she never thought she would ever in all her life say. “These heels are killing me. Do you mind if I sit down?” She indicated the wingback chair in front of the coffee table.

Victoria’s gaze was no longer critical. A smile softened her sun-darkened features. “Tiff made you try on the whole entire store?”

“Close enough. It surprises me I was only there an hour for her to torture me.”

“Do you like it?”

Neil frowned and looked down at what she had on. The jeans she wore settled on her frame somewhat like silk. The sweater was soft and warm and gave Neil the feeling she wasn’t wearing anything at all. It was thick enough for only her to know she wasn’t wearing matching bra and panties. Of course, she wasn’t going to tell Gib’s mother all that.

“It makes me feel like I’m not putting too much thought into what I’m wearing and still I look nice. Instead of looking like I didn’t put any thought into what I’m wearing.”

Victoria’s brown eyes glinted when she commented, “I see you found some jeans.”

Neil nodded, getting the feeling she had missed some joke. Before she could ask, Neil heard Gib’s voice in the hallway. Even with the forewarning nerves sent a trembled through her fingers. How would he react? Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long to find out. As soon as Gib entered the room, his steps faltered. His expression was worth all the torture.

“Tiff wanted you to know that she still expects you to come by before we leave.”

Noticing all eyes were on him, his mother’s being amused, he crossed the room to Neil. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Enough so that I’m not too mad at you for leaving me there alone and unprotected from Tiff.”

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You could have taken her.”