Tangled Web (2 page)

“Mom, who is that?” Joey repeated, nudging her slightly.

Hope glanced back at her young son. He was still wearing his private-school uniform of gray slacks, navy blazer, white shirt. Puny in stature and bespectacled, he looked the antithesis of the healthy, robust, very laid-back and casual Chase. Chase had attended private school, too, albeit reluctantly. And maybe those years of forced formality were why he always refused to dress up now, unless it was absolutely unavoidable.

Putting her leather briefcase in one hand, her bag in the other, Hope said, “It's your half brother, Chase, honey. You remember him, don't you?”

“Oh,” Joey said in a voice that indicated he clearly did not remember Chase. “Yeah, sure.”

Of course, Hope thought, sighing inwardly, there was no reason why Joey should have remembered Chase. The funeral had been overflowing with people, she and Chase had made an art out of tactfully avoiding each other for years, and when he was in town, he'd managed to see his father only briefly before swiftly moving on.

So why was he here now? she wondered. What could he pos
sibly want? And he did want something from her; she could tell by the look on his ruggedly handsome, sun-weathered face.

“Hope.” He nodded at her formally, making no effort to extend his hand.

Feeling ill at ease but determined not to show it, Hope nodded back stiffly. “Chase.” The moment drew out awkwardly, stretching her nerves unbearably thin as she realized close up, he was still as breathtakingly attractive as ever, still as able to wreak havoc on her senses. “I wasn't aware you were in town.” Or that he still wore the deliciously rich, woodsy after-shave he had always favored.

He shoved a hand into his back pocket, the motion drawing his jeans tighter against the flatness of his abdomen, and fastened his hazel eyes on her face. “Just got in this afternoon,” he said laconically. His voice was a gravelly drawl and his eyes probed hers for a reaction.

He'd headed right over to see her, Hope realized with amazement, trying hard not to notice how soft and worn and snug those jeans were or how nicely they clung to the muscled contours of his trim waist, lean hips and long legs. Aware he was looking her over with the same in-depth appraisal, boldly examining every inch of her, it was all Hope could do to hold her ground.

Having apparently picked up her unaccustomed nervousness, Joey cast her a curious glance. “Is he gonna be staying with us, Mom?”

Chase can't want to, Hope thought nervously, unable to tell from his defiantly impassive expression whether he found her changed or not. Because of Edmond, she had to offer her reluctant hospitality, “This is your home, too, Chase, and you're welcome here anytime.”
No matter how uncomfortably lonely you make me feel.
Judging from the state of his clothes and his Jeep, he was as perennially short of cash as ever. He spent the yearly income from his lifetime trust almost as soon as it came. Usually, of course, he had quarterly profits from Barrister's to tide him over as well, but Hope knew there had been no profits this quarter—or last. Which meant he was probably down to his last nickel.

“Thanks for the offer,” Chase said with a politeness as forced as her own, “but I wouldn't want to impose.”

“You wouldn't be imposing,” Hope countered cordially, again for her husband's sake. She never wanted it said she hadn't at least
tried to make Chase welcome. While her husband had been alive, Chase had sometimes quartered in the guest house, however briefly. He'd maintained minimal contact with his father, none whatsoever with her and Joey. As far as she was concerned, he could continue to do the same. The guest house had a private entrance and driveway. As for her attraction to him, well, it was just something she would have to fight. She had conquered it before. She could conquer it again.

“Well,” Chase said awkwardly, confirming by his actions that he was indeed as short of cash as she suspected, “if you're sure it's no trouble and the guest house is available—”

“It is,” Joey cut in gregariously before Hope could verify the same.

“Well, fine, then. I'll only be here a day or so, anyway,” Chase continued.

Hope tried very hard not to show her relief at that bit of news. One day of having him around she could handle, but not any more than that.

Aware her thoughts were straying into forbidden territory, she forced her mind back to the reason for his quick departure. “Still doing research in Brazil?” she asked, hoping fervently he hadn't been able to read her thoughts.

“Costa Rica now. I'm not sure where I'll be next.”

Joey touched Hope's sleeve, subtly commanding her attention.

“Mom, is it okay if I go in now? I'm hungry.”

“Sure, honey. Just have Carmelita give you a snack. But don't eat too much. Dinner's going to be soon.” She looked at Chase, forcing herself to offer, even as she hoped he would refuse, “Will you be dining with us or do you have other plans?”

“No plans,” Chase said candidly, watching as Joey disappeared into the house. He turned back to Hope, his gaze intent and all encompassing, his purpose for being there as much a mystery as ever. He frowned and released a long, uneven breath, then seemed to have forced himself to speak. “Actually, Hope, a family dinner would be just the thing.”

For what? Hope wondered in complete unmitigated shock.

 

I'
M HANDLING THIS
all wrong, Chase thought, as he stood under the shower in the guest house, the hot clean water streaming over
his skin. “Pretending that I feel like family when I don't. Pretending I'm here for no reason in particular.” Yet try as he might, he had been unable to cut to the heart of the matter and ask her just what the hell was going on with the store. Especially with Joey standing there.

For one thing, he knew the economy in Texas was bad. The oil bust in the late eighties had affected everything and everyone. Businesses had gone under by the handful. People who had been millionaires all their lives had lost everything. Entire shopping centers had closed, and real-estate foreclosures occurred by the hundreds. But Barrister's had not only survived, it had continued to do well, at least while his father was alive. Now, a year later, it was a different story. Now Hope was at the helm. Worse, she was as beautiful as ever and that wouldn't make things easy.

He couldn't stand by and let the business his father had built go down the drain, but he couldn't just walk in and take the business away from Hope either. Not when he knew his father had wanted her to have it. Chase had no real interest in it, save keeping it afloat, but it was Hope's life.

He had to find a way to turn things around, to ensure the livelihood for all of them continued. And he had to do it in a way that would've been okay with his father, which meant not getting rid of Hope. Realizing that, he swore roundly and grabbed for a towel. If this wasn't an impossible task, he didn't know what was.

 

“S
O YOU GET TO SPEND
weeks and weeks in the jungles, looking for cures for stuff like cancer and arthritis? And you don't have to take a bath except when you want to and you get to sleep in a tent and cook on a camp fire every single night?” Joey asked Chase incredulously.

Chase chuckled. “That about sums it up, yeah, but it's not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.”

The dry note in her stepson's voice completely escaped her son, who was thrilled by Chase's adventures. “Wow,” Joey continued, shaking his head admiringly. “I wish my mom would let me do stuff like that, but right now she won't even let me go camping in New Mexico.”

Chase slanted Hope a measuring look. “You don't approve of the great outdoors?”

It wasn't that, although Chase was right to assume she wouldn't want her son to ever have the kind of nomadic, no-ties life Chase reveled in. As far as she knew, Chase had never lacked in female companions, but he had never been serious about any woman except Lucy, and their brief engagement had ended almost as quickly and mysteriously as it had begun, years before. “Joey has asthma. He's allergic to many of the tree and plant pollens. That's why he can't go camping.” A doctor himself, Chase should understand the risks.

Joey scowled. “If Dad were still here, he'd let me go.”

Unfortunately, Hope knew that was true. Edmond had been optimistic to a fault, in that regard. And because of that they'd had to continually deal with the consequences. “Joey—”

His pleasure in the meal with his half brother diminished, Joey said abruptly, “May I be excused, please?”

Realizing this was no time to get into a prolonged argument, Hope nodded her permission. “Be sure you finish your homework before you watch any television.”

“I will.” Joey put his napkin down next to his plate, then shoulders hunched in silent misery, marched off.

Embarrassed, Hope turned back to Chase. Suddenly the air between them was charged with electricity and none of it had to do with the emotional departure of her son. “Would you care for more coffee or dessert?” She was aware her voice and manners were stiff and mannequinlike, but was unable to do anything about it. She feared if she relaxed, even a tad, Chase would see through her flimsy defenses and realize how uneasy and self-conscious she felt, being there alone with him, especially now that she was single again.

He had eaten everything Carmelita put before him, as if he'd been starved for months. And she supposed where he had been, there had been a lack of elegant cuisine.

“I'll pass on the seconds. Thanks. I do need to speak to you—privately.”

She had been expecting this. “Very well,” she said. She led the way to the heavy paneled library. Once inside, she shut the double oak doors firmly behind them and Chase got straight to the point.

“I'm concerned about Barrister's.”

Hope felt her spine stiffen. As disinterested as Chase had always
been in the store, she hadn't expected this. Unable to keep the defensive note out of her voice, she retorted, “So am I.”

Chase smoothed his blond hair, then let his palm rest idly on the back of his neck.

Just shampooed, the sun-streaked strands gleamed like gold in the soft inside light, appearing very touchable and distracting in their sexy disarray. And he smelled just as fresh and male.

“Look, Hope,” he began rather gruffly, as he passed her in a wake of rich, woodsy after-shave, “I doubt I can say this without offending you—”

From the reluctant look on his face, she doubted it too. “Just get on with it,” she advised tensely, expecting the worst.

He dropped his hand and leaned against the marble fireplace. “All right.” More comfortable now, he met her gaze and continued flatly, “Popular opinion is you're mismanaging Barrister's.”

Hope hung on to her escalating temper with all her might. “Then popular opinion is wrong,” she corrected, just as bluntly.

His fair brow lifted slightly at her tone. “I wish I could believe that,” he said tersely. Then in a softer, more resigned tone, he added, “Try to understand. This isn't personal, but I can't let my father's work end in Chapter Eleven.”

As the threat of what he was saying became real, Hope's shock abated. “I'm well aware of what happened to Frost Brothers,” she said icily. She got up and moved around the room restlessly. Then she whirled to face Chase, the awkward silence doing nothing to diffuse her anger. “You can rest assured I won't let Barrister's end in bankruptcy.” The business meant too much to her. Apart from Joey, it was her whole life.

He crossed his arms at his waist and looked at her frankly. He wasn't about to give in to every whim. Unlike Edmond, he didn't care if she was displeased or not. “Neither will I,” he said flatly.

Aware her hands were shaking, she shoved them into the pockets of her skirt. Although she knew him to be a formidable opponent, she had never expected this from Chase, and it threw her. “What do you mean?” With effort, she kept her voice harsh, exacting.

His hazel eyes darkened in a similar show of emotion. “I inherited thirty percent of the stock, Hope. My mother owns ten percent of it.”

Her pulse thudded faster. “Are you asking me to buy your
shares?” She faced him in disbelief, disappointment stabbing at her like a knife.

“No.” He shook his head grimly. “I'm asking you to step down as president, effective immediately, and let the board of directors appoint someone else to run it.”

Hope stared at him, feeling both shocked and annoyed at his matter-of-fact tone. Once the conversation had turned to the store, she had braced herself for complaints from Chase about the lack of profits in the past two quarters, but she had never expected this. Knowing Chase and Rosemary Barrister, perhaps she should have expected it. Neither had ever liked her. Neither had been happy when Edmond left forty-eight percent of the stock to her and recommended she replace him as president. But until now, neither had fought her, either. Knowing how rich people liked to hold onto what they had, as well as what they didn't, she supposed she should have seen this coming.

“Your father wanted me to run the store, Chase,” she pointed out reasonably. “He spent ten years grooming me to do just that.”

Again, Chase managed to look torn. “I know how hard you've worked,” he soothed. “I'm sorry it hasn't worked out.”

Silence fell between them once more and she studied him relentlessly. As hard as it was for her to admit, Hope saw this wasn't revenge on his part. He wasn't trying to hurt her, just to salvage what was left of the business. What he didn't know was that she was already one step ahead of him, and had been for several months.

“I don't agree that it hasn't worked out,” she countered practically. “But I do share your concern. That's why I've called a meeting with the buyers tomorrow morning at nine sharp, to outline some immediate changes that will turn business around. You're welcome to sit in if you like.”