“I run a shelter for young women, not a dating service for their fathers.”

“My father dates all the time. I’m talking about someone who’ll marry him. It shouldn’t be hard to find somebody. He’s good-looking and rich. Don’t you know some nice women who would like him well enough to go out with him?” Cynthia asked.

Kathryn didn’t want to tell Cynthia how easy it would be for a woman to like her father very much. Neither did Cynthia need to know Kathryn found her father so attractive she temporarily forgot that though they seemed to have a lot in common, they disagreed on most fundamental matters.

“Your father will remarry when he’s ready.”

“He needs somebody who’ll take care of him, somebody who’s not interested in his becoming the most famous businessman in the world. He needs someone like you.”

Dear Reader,

Love is in the air, but the days will certainly be sweeter if you snuggle up with this month’s Special Edition offerings—and a box of decadent chocolates. First up, award-winning author and this year’s President of Romance Writers of America®, Shirley Hailstock is a fresh new voice for Special Edition, but fans already know what a gifted storyteller she is. With numerous novels and novellas under her belt, Shirley debuts in Special Edition with A Father’s Fortune, which tells the story of a day-care-center owner and her foster child who teach a grumpy carpenter how to face his past and open his heart to love.

Lindsay McKenna packs a punch in Her Healing Touch, a fast-paced read from beginning to end. The next in her widely acclaimed MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: DESTINY’S WOMEN series, this romance details the trials of a beautiful paramedic who teaches a handsome Special Forces officer the ways of her legendary healing. USA TODAY bestselling author Susan Mallery completely wins us over in Completely Smitten, next up in her beloved series HOMETOWN HEARTBREAKERS. Here, an adventurous preacher’s daughter seeks out a new life, but never expects to find a new love with a sexy U.S. marshal.

The fourth installment in Crystal Green’s KANE’S CROSSING miniseries, There Goes the Bride oozes excitement when a runaway bride is spirited out of town by a reclusive pilot she once loved in high school. Patricia McLinn delights her readers with Wedding of the Century. Here, a heroine returns to her hometown seven years after running out of her wedding. When she faces her jilted groom, she realizes their feelings are stronger than ever! Finally, in Leigh Greenwood’s Family Merger, sparks fly when a workaholic businessman meets a good-hearted social worker, who teaches him the meaning of love.

Don’t miss this array of novels that deliver an emotional charge and satisfying finish you’re sure to savor, no matter what the season!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

Family Merger
Leigh Greenwood

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LEIGH GREENWOOD

has authored twenty historical romances and debuted in Silhouette Special Edition with Just What the Doctor Ordered. The proud parent of three grown children, Leigh lives in Charlotte, North Carolina. You can write to Leigh Greenwood at P.O. Box 470761, Charlotte, NC 28226. An SASE would be appreciated.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Kathryn Roper suddenly found herself face-to-face with one very handsome, very angry man. Tall, neatly groomed and impeccably dressed in a custom-made suit, he looked too young to be so conservatively dressed. The gray pinstripe was something her father would wear. This man ought to be wearing a cream-colored Polo shirt and tan slacks. He had the body of an athlete, though she didn’t know any athletes who had such good taste in clothes and such bad taste in visiting hours.

“Don’t stand there staring at me,” he snapped. “I’ve flown halfway around the world to get here. I want to see Miss Roper.”

If she’d had any doubts this man was Ron Egan, she didn’t have them any longer. He had the imperious attitude of a man who thought nothing was important but himself.

“I’m Kathryn Roper,” she said, “and I don’t allow visitors after nine-thirty. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

His angry gaze narrowed its focus, bore into her like a laser. “You’re too young and pretty to have turned into a battle-ax.”

Kathryn couldn’t stop a spurt of laughter. “Who says a battle-ax has to be old and ugly?”

He appeared to be weighing her up, calculating his approach. He was just like many upper echelon types she’d run across, ready to shout at people they thought unimportant but immediately taking a different tack when they encountered someone they considered on their level.

Yet she was having a very different reaction to him than what would have been usual for her—one of a purely physical nature, one that caught her off guard. She felt attracted to this man. She had never denied the possibility of instant chemistry between two people, but this was the first time it had happened to her.

What a tragedy his outside should be so beautiful when his inside was rotten. But that’s the way it seemed to go with her and men.

In a way, she was just as impressionable as the girls who came to her for help. All too often they had been seduced by a man’s appearance. Only she was older, more experienced and had her physical desires firmly under control. She might have a gut-clenching reaction to Ron Egan, but he’d never know it.

“I want to see my daughter. Where is she?”

“She’s in bed, as are all the girls in this house. You can see her in the morning.”

“I’ve come all the way from Geneva. I got on the next flight out after your phone call and spent the last eight hours on a plane. I’m six time zones away from where I started, and I’m tired. It won’t hurt her to miss thirty minutes of sleep.”

“It’s not the sleep I’m concerned about so much as that your visit will upset her. It’s extremely important that she remain calm. She’s going through a stressful experience.”

They still stood there in the entrance hall, facing each other like gladiators, each trying to decide how to manipulate this conversation to their own advantage. At least that’s how Ron read it.

“She’s a minor,” Ron said. “I can force you to give her up.”

“It’s not a matter of my giving her up. She came here of her own free will. She wants to stay. If you care for her, you’ll let her stay.”

Ron didn’t know quite how to respond. From the moment he’d received a call from a stranger telling him his daughter was pregnant and had run away from home, he hadn’t known what to think. He hadn’t expected to find his daughter housed in an elegant old mansion in the heart of the oldest and most fashionable neighborhood in Charlotte. Kathryn Roper wasn’t at all what he’d expected, either.

His first impulse was to shout at this woman for having the effrontery to imply he didn’t care for his daughter. Who was she to make such a judgment? She didn’t know anything about him. Cynthia had every right to be upset, but he was sure if he could talk to her, they could straighten things out.

Still, there was something about this woman that caused him to look at her again, to reevaluate. He was used to women being visibly affected by his appearance. She didn’t show any reaction whatsoever. She didn’t appear the least bit intimidated by him, by his size, his reputation or his gender. She looked quite young and slender, even fragile, but she acted as if she thought she was as tough as any man.

“I can have you arrested for kidnapping.”

“But you won’t.”

“Why? It’s not because I’m too honorable.”

“I imagine you know enough dirty tricks to fill a book, but you wouldn’t want any of this splashed over the front page of The Charlotte Observer.”

“I don’t give a damn about that paper.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What you believe isn’t important. Since it’s my daughter we’re talking about, it’s what I believe that’s important. And if you don’t know that, I’ll get a judge to explain it to you.”

“Who are you planning to ask—Frank Emery? He’s my godfather. Emily Anders is a friend of my mother. I think my brothers have worked with every other judge in Charlotte.”

“Are you telling me the judges can be bought?”

Much to his surprise, she flushed. “No, and it was quite wrong of me to imply they could be. Come into the living room. We’d better sit down.”

“I don’t want to talk, and I don’t want to sit down.”

“If you hope to convince me you flew halfway around the world because you care what happens to your daughter, you’ll sit down.”

“Why should I care what you think?”

“Because Cynthia does.”

He didn’t want to believe her, but there was no other reason he could think of for Cynthia’s presence in this house. He still had every intention of taking her home, but maybe it would be better to hear what this woman had to say. After his wife died, he’d had an increasingly difficult time communicating with his daughter. He didn’t understand how the lovable, biddable little girl who used to climb onto his lap to read had turned into the silent, sulking, angry teenager who sometimes refused to eat breakfast with him and often made excuses to miss dinner as well. Maybe he should have taken some time off before now, but he had to have this one last deal to put his company into a position where its success didn’t depend solely on him.

He intended to hire the best therapists he could find, but if Kathryn could help, he’d be foolish not to listen to her. Cynthia had chosen to come here, and she always had a reason for anything she did.

“I’d like something to drink,” he said.

“I don’t serve liquor to guests.”

“I don’t drink liquor. Ice water would be fine.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Ron watched her leave, the sight of her backside causing a surprising reaction in his groin. He hadn’t felt like that in years, certainly not with a woman who seemed ready to oppose him in every way she could. Yet Kathryn wasn’t like any of the women who faced him across a board table or the functionaries who kept his various offices running smoothly.

He had worked with single-minded determination from the time he was ten to get where he was today. He’d sacrificed leisure, friends, nearly everything most men would consider the rewards of success so Cynthia would have all the advantages.

It was clear Kathryn Roper looked down on him. That was all the more reason to be angry he was attracted to her. Hell, it was nearly impossible to be angry with a woman when you found yourself wondering what it would be like to get closer to her. How was he supposed to concentrate on her shortcomings when her body distracted him?

Just then Kathryn returned with a glass of ice water. Her front looked just as good as the back. It was a good thing she couldn’t read his thoughts. She’d probably throw the water in his face.

“Now let’s talk about your daughter,” she said after she’d handed him the water and allowed him time to take a few sips.

“Tell me what you do,” Ron said. “I still can’t figure out why Cynthia would come to you.”

She looked as if she took that as a personal insult, but surely she had to know a father couldn’t just take for granted she was qualified to be responsible for his daughter.

“I maintain this house as a shelter for unwed young girls who become pregnant.”

“How much money do you owe on it?”

“My aunt left it to me.”

“I don’t imagine your neighbors are thrilled with what you’re doing.” People don’t pay upwards to a million dollars for a big house to find themselves next door to a halfway house for pregnant teens.

“Not everybody likes what I’m doing, but I’m a good neighbor. The girls are quiet and well behaved. I don’t allow visits from boys unless I’m present and then only brothers or the fathers of their babies.”

“How many girls do you have here?”

“I have room for ten, but I only have four now.”

“Who looks after them when you go to work?”

“This is my work.”

“You mean you have a trust fund that allows you to do nothing.”

“I have an income that allows me to provide a service to the community.”

Just what he thought. A rich woman with nothing to do, who excused her meddling by thinking she was providing a social service these girls couldn’t find elsewhere.

“How do they know about you? Do you advertise?”

He’d angered her. She sat with her clenched hands in her lap, her back ramrod straight, her knees together.

“They learn of me through their friends or from girls who have been here. When they come to me, I urge them to go to their parents immediately. I tell them all the reasons that would be preferable to staying here. I’m proud to say most of them do go home. Two have come back afterward, but most found their parents were more supportive than they expected. Mostly the girls fear their parents will hate them for what they’ve done.”

“Don’t think you’re going to convince me Cynthia thinks I’ll hate her. We don’t always agree, but she—”

“Cynthia believes your work comes before her.”

“It keeps me away from home a lot, but nothing is more important to me than Cynthia. Why do you think I hired so many people to take care of her?”

“I imagine what she wanted and needed was you, your time and attention, your assurance that she was more important than your work.”

“She knows that.”

“She told me she came here because she doesn’t want her having a baby to get in your way.”

That was such a ridiculous statement he could hardly believe his daughter made it. He wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Cynthia couldn’t possibly get in my way. I’ve hired four people to take care of her. If she wants anything, she only has to ask for it.”

“She still doesn’t believe she’s as important to you as your next merger.”

“Of course she is. If she wants, she can go to Switzerland with me as soon as school is out.” He realized with a terrible sense of guilt he hadn’t even considered that until the words came out of his mouth. If she had wanted to go vacationing with one of her friends, he’d have been happy to let her.

“She wants to stay here. She doesn’t want to hurt you or the baby’s father.”

“That’s something else I want to know. Where can I find the boy who did this?”

“I have several rules. One is I never ask the name of the father. Another is even if I know it, I never reveal it.”

“You’re a regular paragon of virtue, aren’t you?”

She must have a difficult time with her shelter. He didn’t imagine many fathers would have been as calm as he had been so far, but he couldn’t work up the will to rant and rave at Kathryn. He intended to take Cynthia home, but he didn’t think Kathryn was an evil person. She was just a well-meaning busybody who couldn’t keep her nose out of other people’s business.

“My only purpose is to help these girls. I want to give them a safe place to stay where they can continue their education, have their babies, then decide what to do with the rest of their lives. I don’t provide a permanent solution, just a temporary refuge from all the pressure.”

“All that sounds fine and noble, but what are you getting out of this?”

“I beg your pardon!”

“People don’t do things like this without a reason. You’re rich. I imagine your friends are building careers, going to parties and having children. There’s got to be some reason you’d give all that up to baby-sit pregnant teenagers. And there’s no point glaring at me. I don’t intimidate.”

“Neither do I.”

“Good, then answer my question. Why are you doing this?”

“Because something like this happened to my sister,” she said after a pause. “I saw the damage it could do when it was handled badly.”

She meant it happened to her, he thought. People always put traumatic events off on a relative, a friend, even a neighbor. They only reacted like Kathryn Roper when it really happened to them. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman to let her emotions get the better of her. But then who better to learn to control her emotions than someone who had failed to do so and paid the price?

He looked at her, sitting so stiffly in the chair opposite him and felt some of his aggravation melt away. It couldn’t be easy. She must relive what happened to her every time a girl came to her for help. Most people would want to put it behind them, to forget, pretend it never happened, but she’d had the courage to turn her personal tragedy into a benefit to the community. He had to admire her for that. And it was a real community service.

He wondered what had happened to her baby.

What did Cynthia mean to do with her baby? For the first time it hit him that he was about to become a grandfather. He had just turned forty.

“I want to see Cynthia.”

“As I told you before, she’s in bed.”

“I heard you the first time, but you can’t really think I’ll just get up and walk out that door.”

“It would be better if you waited until the morning.”

“It would be better if this had never happened, but it has and I’ll deal with it. Now I want to see my daughter.”

Kathryn didn’t move.

“You can get her for me, or I’ll get her myself. It’s your choice, but I’m going to see her.”

“I won’t let you yell at her, and I won’t let you force her to leave.”

“I hope I won’t yell at her. I imagine she’s extremely upset already, but I can’t make any promises. How would you feel about leaving your only child in the hands of a stranger?”

“I wouldn’t do it, but you’ve been doing that all her life.”

This female didn’t fight fair. “My work makes it impossible for me to be at home all the time. My staff has been with Cynthia for more than ten years.”

Kathryn got to her feet. “I’ll ask Cynthia if she wants to come down.”

She left the room before he could make it plain that in this instance, at least, the decision wasn’t up to Cynthia.

He was extremely tired, but he was too full of nervous energy to sit still. He got up and walked about the room. It was impossible not to notice that even though the furniture looked extremely comfortable and well used—the window treatments subtle, the carpets not new—everything had the look of being quite expensive. It was the kind of furniture that said I’m so expensive and well made I don’t have to look expensive. Ron had studied such things. The trappings of success he made sure he acquired. He hadn’t had anything when he was a kid. He was determined everybody would know that wasn’t the case any longer. He finished his water and set the glass in what looked like a candy dish.

He wondered how things had gone with the meeting in Geneva. He was sure his colleagues Ted and Ben would do an excellent job of explaining why the two companies would do better under new management. It was just that he’d never before left the start of negotiations to anyone else. It was essential to know people’s starting positions, prejudices and all, if he was going to bring them together in the end. Part of his reputation had been built on personal attention to every detail. If Ron Egan came after your company, you knew you were going to be meeting with Ron Egan all the time. He wondered what his absence now would do to his reputation.

Oh well, he’d be back in Geneva tomorrow. Or the next day. He could sleep on the plane if worrying about Cynthia didn’t keep him awake again. This was one merger that wouldn’t be easy. It wasn’t merely a matter of money or paperwork. It was people and politics. You had to find a way to bring both together, and nobody could do that better than Ron Egan. It was how he’d raised himself from a kid whose parents didn’t have enough money to buy him decent shoes or a winter coat to a man whose income had reached nine figures this last year.

He turned abruptly away from a mirror that showed him a much too realistic view of himself. He had the look of a successful man—the clothes, the carriage, the confidence—but right now that left a bad taste in his mouth. His daughter had become pregnant. Worse, she had turned to a perfect stranger for support rather than to him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know something was wrong there. He was an expert when it came to analyzing people, figuring out what made them tick, knowing what to do to make them come down on his side.

How had he managed to fail so badly with his own daughter?

Why was she afraid of him? What would he have done if she had come to him?

The door opened, and Kathryn reentered the room. Cynthia followed. Ron felt almost as though he was looking at a stranger.

She had put on jeans and a T-shirt, allowed her dark-blond hair to fall over her shoulders. She displayed none of the sullen anger he’d seen the last time he was home. She faced him with a new calmness. Only her twitching toes—she was barefooted—betrayed any uneasiness.

Ron hadn’t realized how much her facial features had grown to resemble her mother’s. It was almost like seeing Erin the way she looked the first day they met. Cynthia was tall with slim bones, though right now she carried some extra weight. He remembered how much being overweight had affected his life. It had to be worse for a girl. They were under so much more pressure to be slim.

Like Kathryn.

He cursed silently and brought his mind back to his daughter.

In his mind she’d remained his little girl. He’d been too busy to realize she’d gone ahead and grown up on her own. And now she was in trouble, and he had to figure out some way to help her.

“Why did you come?” Cynthia asked. “I don’t want you here.”

“I’m your father.”

“I’m sixteen.”

Was there a single teenager in America who didn’t think turning sixteen made him or her an adult? “I’m still your father. If you hadn’t come home soon, Margaret would have called the police. I would have had the SBI and the FBI combing the state looking for you. You should have told me you were in trouble.”

“You can’t do anything about it.”

“I could have tried to help.”

“I don’t need your help. I can do this on my own.”

Despite the twitching toes, she didn’t appear frightened or overly angry. It was almost as though he were a momentary obstacle she had to deal with before she could move on.

“When were you going to tell me about the baby?”

She didn’t answer.

“How were you going to keep it a secret?”

“I’ll stay here until after it’s born. I don’t have to go to school when I really start showing. Miss Roper has people come teach us. I can get my GED.”

He spent ten thousand dollars a year to send her to the best private school in Charlotte, and she was talking about a GED! Didn’t she have any idea how important it was to graduate from the right school? No matter what he had to do, he was determined Cynthia would do that.

“We’ll worry about that later. Are you okay? You look pale.”

“It’s because I’m pregnant.” Cynthia stumbled over the word that described her condition. “Mrs. Collias fixes meals especially for pregnant girls. She says she can make sure I have enough for the baby without getting fat.”

Ron had almost forgotten Kathryn was still in the room. She had taken a seat near the door and was leafing through a magazine. She didn’t trust him alone with his daughter, but at least she had the decency to pretend she wasn’t listening to everything they said. He wondered if she was this protective of her other girls.

“All expectant mothers are supposed to gain weight.”

His wife had gained forty pounds then lost it within a few months.

“If I get fat, I’ll never get it off.”

Ron didn’t know how the conversation had drifted onto something as trivial as weight.

“What about the boy?” Ron asked. “The baby’s father.”

“He doesn’t know.”

“You have to tell him.”

“No, I don’t. It’s my baby. Besides, I don’t want to ruin his life, too.”

“This is not going to ruin your life. I won’t let it.”

“I’m a pregnant, unwed teenager,” Cynthia said, anger now rising to the surface. “There’s nothing your money can do to change that.”

He felt as if he were being punished for working so she would never have to endure privation. “You still have to tell the father. It’s his baby as much as yours. He has a right to know.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

For the first time since seeing her, he sensed fear. “I’m sure he’ll guess when you don’t return to school.”

“I told everybody we were moving to Connecticut.”

Ron knew it would be impossible to keep her baby a secret even if they did move to Connecticut, but he would deal with that later. Right now he needed to get Cynthia home and settled into her own room. And he needed to get out of Kathryn Roper’s house.

“Get your things,” Ron said. “I’m taking you home.”

Cynthia pulled back from him. Something about her expression changed, something subtle that made her look less like a child and more like a woman.

“I’m not going home. I’m staying here.”

Ron knew his relationship with his daughter wasn’t the best in the world, but she’d never refused point-blank to do anything reasonable. “Why not?”

“I just told you,” Cynthia said, sounding impatient. “I don’t want anybody to know.”

“They’ll know soon enough.”

“Not if I stay here and you go back to Switzerland. They’ll believe we moved to Connecticut, just like I said. I told them we were keeping the house with Margaret and everybody else in case we didn’t like it. I told them I didn’t want to go but some of your Yale buddies had talked you into it because it would put you closer to New York, that it would be good for your business.”

Ron didn’t bother pointing out that such a story was so full of holes it probably wouldn’t last a day. The school would call if she missed more than one day without an excuse. Her friends would call. Neighbors would ask questions. There was no way she could keep her disappearance a secret.

“Why don’t you let me take you home?” Ron asked. “We can both get a good night’s sleep and try to come up with a plan in the morning.”

“A plan for what?”

For the rest of your life Ron thought, exasperated. She didn’t appear to realize nothing would ever be the same after this. She would be a mother. That was a barrier that would separate her from her friends almost as effectively as moving to Connecticut.

“Everything is going to be different after this,” Ron said.

“I know that,” Cynthia said. “I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were, but even intelligent people can have trouble thinking through unfamiliar situations. There are so many things you can’t know at your age—”

“If you tell me even once I don’t understand because I’m too young, I’ll walk out of this room.”

“You don’t understand,” Ron said, “not only because you’re too young but because this is beyond your experience. Hell, your mother and I didn’t understand, and we’d been planning for you for three years.”

“Age and experience have nothing to do with it,” Cynthia said as she got to her feet. “You’ve been a father for sixteen years, and you still don’t understand a thing about children.”

“I don’t understand why you’re more upset about your friends knowing you’re pregnant than you are about having a baby. I half expected you’d be nearly hysterical begging me to help you get an abortion.”

“I’d never do that! I want this baby. I need this baby.”

“Cynthia, you’ve just turned sixteen. You’re in the tenth grade. How can you need a baby?”

Tears sprang to her eyes. He reached out to her, but she backed away.

“You never let me have a cat. I begged you over and over again, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“I’m allergic to cats. You know that.”

She started toward the door. “I would have kept it in my room. You never go there. I would have taken care of it myself.”

She ran out leaving Ron wondering what had just happened. He turned to Kathryn who’d remained silent during the whole conversation, quietly turning pages in her magazine. Now she was looking at him with an expression of pity mingled with something that seemed to say You poor, dumb clod. You don’t have a clue, do you?

“What? You’re looking at me like I’ve dribbled ketchup down my shirt.”

“You don’t understand her, do you?”

“Are you saying you do?”

“Of course.”

That irritated him. “There’s no of course about it. Has she told you something I don’t know?”

“Not in so many words.”

Erin used to say that. She said men weren’t supposed to understand women. “How about putting it into words a poor, dumb male can understand.”

She stood and came toward him. She really was a lovely woman with a beautiful body. It was hard to concentrate on his daughter when he was having such a visceral reaction to this woman. Why wasn’t she married? What was wrong with the single men in Charlotte that she was left alone to oversee other men’s daughters?

“Cynthia wanted something to love,” Kathryn said, “something of her own that would love her back.”

“I offered to buy her a puppy, but she said she didn’t want a dog.”

“Did you get her one anyway?”

“No.”

Kathryn sighed, and he felt even more out of it. “Now what?” he asked, becoming extremely frustrated.

“She would have taken the puppy.”

“She said she didn’t want it. She said she wouldn’t even give it a name.”

“She would have taken it and been happy. Didn’t any one of those women you employ tell you that?”

“I was in Chicago. My secretary talked to Margaret.”

“Did it ever occur to you that since you’ve hired a staff to take care of your daughter, it might be a good idea to ask their opinion, maybe even let them handle the situation?”

“Margaret has authority to buy anything Cynthia needs.”

“Cynthia’s wanting a cat was a cry for help. She wanted more attention than she was getting.”

“It was a cat, for God’s sake, not a security blanket.”

“It might as well have been.”

“Boys ask for dogs all the time. They’d never compare it to having a baby,” he insisted.

“You don’t understand women.”

“I know that.”

“And you don’t understand your daughter.”

They were standing there, facing each other like two antagonists squaring off over some kind of prize.

“I know that, too.”

“I expect you tried,” Kathryn said.

“You’re too generous.”

“You were probably too involved in your work to take the time to learn to really listen.”

“I listen to her all the time.”

“Maybe, but you’re not hearing her. You’re insensitive to women’s issues. You need to spend more time—”

“I don’t have more time,” Ron broke in. “Do you have any idea how tough it is in the international market? Half the men out there would cut my throat if they could gain anything by it. And if I survive them, there’s a new, young wizard popping out of the woodwork every day brimming over with ideas of how to do what I do cheaper and faster.”

“I’m familiar with the business world. My father has spent his whole life in it, and he’s just like you.”

“So you’re telling me it’s hopeless?”

“Not if you really want to try. If you don’t—”

“Would I come halfway around the world if I didn’t?”

She seemed to accept that. She turned away and walked toward a bookcase built into the wall. “I can recommend several excellent books.”

“I don’t have time to read one book, not to mention several.”

She turned back to face him, her expression impatient. “Then how do you expect to learn to be sensitive to your daughter’s feelings? You need training.”

“Then you train me.”

“I doubt I’d be able to do that.”

“How hard could it be? I’m bright, I’m willing and I’m ready to start now.”

Chapter Two

“Are you sure everything went okay?”

Ron had called Ted the minute he got back to the house. It was 7:21 a.m. in Geneva. Time to be preparing for the second day’s meeting. He was the one who was up past his bedtime. More than six hours past.

“Lord Hradschin is in favor of the merger,” Ted said. “There’s nothing that old pirate likes as much as money.”

There really wasn’t much that was difficult that had to be done during the first few days. It was mostly laying out the plans for the merger, explaining how they meant to restructure the company, answering questions, giving the costs and income projections. Ted was good at making difficult things sound simple and Ben could make you feel good about a root canal, but could they read the people, know who was going to be trouble, figure out the arguments necessary to bring them around, figure out how the politics played into the decision? That had always been his job.

“Don’t move to a second point until you’re certain everyone understands the first one,” Ron said. “It’ll only get worse as you go along if they don’t.”

He’d already rejected the idea of flying back to Geneva in the morning. Something had happened to him when Cynthia suddenly broke into tears and ran from the room. This wasn’t the same as having a tantrum, sulking or being obstinate. She was deeply hurt, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Kathryn said she could teach him to understand his daughter if he really wanted to. He couldn’t imagine why she would have any doubt. He had left his meeting just as it was getting started. What more proof could she want?

“Call me if you hit a snag. I’ll have my cell phone with me… No, I don’t know when I’ll be back. In the next couple of days, but I can’t say exactly when.”

He was certain Kathryn would say he’d need more than one session, but he didn’t have time for more. If she was as good as she thought, she could teach him everything he had to know in a couple of hours. After that it shouldn’t take him more than a day to sort things out with Cynthia and get her back home.

“I’ve got to go. If I don’t get some sleep, I’ll be a zombie. You’ve been wanting a chance to do this on your own, so make the most of it.”

He hung up the phone and fell back on the bed without bothering to take off his clothes. He would undress in a minute, just as soon as the muscles at the back of his neck and shoulders unknotted enough for him to move his arms. Then it struck him, the million-dollar question.

Had he screwed up so badly with Cynthia she wouldn’t give him another chance?

He hoped not. Their relationship wasn’t perfect, but they’d been going along with only an occasional bump until this pregnancy thing happened. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the boy who’d done this to his little girl. It was always the boy who was so anxious to have sex he didn’t stop to think of the consequences.

“Is Daddy really going to let you try to teach him to understand women?” Cynthia asked Kathryn over a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with brown sugar and pecans.

“That’s what he says,” Kathryn replied. “But he may be too angry at me to listen to anything I say.”

They were sitting in the breakfast alcove in Kathryn’s bright, cheerful kitchen. Sunlight streamed in through the windows despite the canopy of oaks that shaded the backyard.

“How can any man be angry at you?” Lisette asked. “You’re beautiful.” She had requested French toast, which she had promptly drowned in a sea of maple syrup. She had yet to swallow the vitamin and calcium pills that Mrs. Collias had placed by her plate.

“My dad never notices women, even when they’re as beautiful as Miss Roper,” Cynthia said. “I used to think it was because he could never love another woman after my mother died.”

Kathryn couldn’t imagine a man as handsome, energetic and vital as Ron Egan ignoring women. She was certain women didn’t ignore him. She hadn’t been able to.

“That’s so romantic,” Lisette cooed.

“Now I think it’s because he’ll never like any woman as much as he likes his work.”

“But he’s rich,” Lisette reminded her. “All rich men like beautiful women, and he isn’t even ancient with a potbelly and bald head. Please tell me he’s not fifty.”

Kathryn couldn’t help laughing. “Fifty is not ancient, Lisette. You wait until you get there.”

“I never want to be fifty,” the young girl said. “I want to die while I’m still young and beautiful, just like Princess Diana.”

“Well, speaking as one who has passed her thirtieth birthday, I can tell you I plan to live well past fifty. And I don’t intend to become an old hag in the process.”

“Of course not,” Lisette said, smiling as she popped a vitamin in her mouth and followed it with half a glass of orange juice. “You can have all the plastic surgery you want.”

“Will you do that?” Julia, the third of four girls at the table, asked.

“I hope to age gracefully.”

“Why would you do that when you could still look young and beautiful?” Lisette asked.

“Because I want my husband to think of me as a wife and companion, not as someone who’s concerned with nothing but her looks. I want to enjoy every phase of my life, to live each age honestly whatever its challenges.”

“Kerry doesn’t want me to look old,” Lisette declared. “He wants me to be as beautiful as possible. I want to go to parties, wear beautiful clothes and have men follow me with their eyes when I walk past.”

Kathryn decided somebody needed to explain to Mother Nature that some girls, regardless of their age, were just too young to have babies. Lisette should have been at the top of that list. This wasn’t about rich husbands or beautiful clothes. She was about to become a mother. It was about learning to act with the maturity and responsibility necessary to make her a good mother.

“I want lots of children,” Cynthia said. “I want a thousand pictures of when they learn to walk, start school, go on their first dates, of their proms and their graduations. I want books of pictures of their weddings, even more of their children. I want movies, too. After Mama got sick, she used to watch movies of me when I was a baby. She said I was her touchstone. She said as long as she had me she never felt lonely.”

“Kerry will never leave my bedside when I get sick,” Lisette said. “He’ll be holding my hand when I die.”

“Has your father dated?” Julia asked Cynthia.

“No.”

“He must have loved your mother very much,” Kathryn said.

“Both of them were only children whose parents died early,” Cynthia said. “I think they were friends more than lovers.”

“Would that bother you?” Kathryn asked.

“It would bother me,” Lisette said. “If Kerry doesn’t love me to distraction, I’ll divorce him.”

“Mama said she was happy because she had me to love,” Cynthia answered. “Maybe a woman doesn’t need more than that. What do you think?”

Kathryn realized what she thought was uncomfortably close to Lisette’s feelings. Her own mother had been content to spend most of her married life waiting for her husband to return from business trips. When the split came between her sister and their father, her mother had backed their father’s position without hesitation. Away at college at the time, Kathryn had been too furious to give any thought to her mother’s position, but now she wondered. Could a woman be happily married to a man who was away from home more often than not?

“I can’t speak for anyone but myself,” Kathryn said, “but—”

The sound of the doorbell caused her to break off. Lisette bounded up from her chair. “It’s Kerry. He can’t stand to be separated from me.”

“He must stay in the living room,” Kathryn called after her. “I’ll be in as soon as I fix my coffee.”

“Do you think their parents will let them get married?” Julia asked as the door banged shut behind Lisette. “They’re nuts about each other.”

“It will depend on what Kerry’s father says when he gets home.”

“Where is he?”

“On a business trip. No one seems to know when he’ll get back.”

“My dad was on a business trip, too, but he came home right away.”

Kathryn didn’t know quite how to interpret Cynthia’s expression. It seemed to be some combination of pride and anger. Kathryn concluded that Cynthia loved her father deeply but just didn’t happen to like him very much right then.

Lisette came back into the kitchen looking dejected. “It’s Cynthia’s father. He said he’s come for his sensitivity lessons.” She made a face. “Nothing personal, Cynthia, but that man’s not normal. It’s Saturday morning, and he’s in a suit and tie.”

Kathryn felt something in the region of her stomach flutter uncomfortably. “I didn’t expect him so early,” she said, getting up to put her coffee cup on the sideboard. “I’m not even sure I thought he’d come.”

“If my father says he’ll do something, he does it,” Cynthia said, as though that was not a trait she admired.

“Does he do everything in a suit and tie?” Julia asked.

“I’ve never seen him wear anything else outside the house,” Cynthia said.

Kathryn was about to say it was an attitude that was as outmoded as the twentieth century, but she was flattered Ron Egan had taken such care with his appearance. He could have come dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. That was not a wise thought. Just imagining Ron Egan in jeans and a T-shirt caused her belly to tighten.

“What’ll I do when Kerry comes?” Lisette asked.

“You can use the TV room as long as Mrs. Collias is in sight,” Kathryn said.

“She hates me,” Lisette wailed. “She never lets me—”

“Do anything foolish,” Kathryn finished for her. “That’s why I hired her.”

“I can watch her,” Cynthia offered.

“Your father might want to see you. Now I’ve got to go. Make sure you both finish your breakfast. Good nutrition is extremely important now.”

Ron turned from the window when Kathryn entered the room. It was 7:58 a.m. on a Saturday morning, and he looked like he’d just stepped out of Gentleman’s Quarterly. Foolish, though, to be feeling like a young girl meeting a date.

“You’re earlier than I expected,” Kathryn said.

“I want to get this over so I can get back to Geneva,” Ron said, coming toward her. “I left my assistants to handle some very difficult negotiations.”

The thaw that had begun in her feelings toward him stopped. She didn’t know why he’d bothered to come home. He could have saved himself a lot of trouble by shouting at her over the phone.

“I’m sure there are lots of people in Geneva far more qualified than I to help you with sensitivity training,” she said. “If you’ll tell me where you’re staying, I’ll see if I can line up someone. I don’t know about Saturday flights from Charlotte to Geneva, but I’m sure Atlanta or New York—”

Ron looked at her like she had lost her mind. “Who said anything about my flying back today?”

Kathryn took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I interpreted your remarks to mean you planned to return almost immediately.”

“Well you interpreted them wrong.” He seated himself on a sofa. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I want to talk to Cynthia, and I want to be sensitive enough to understand how the hell she could get herself in such a fix.”

Kathryn broke out laughing. She didn’t know why. There was nothing funny about the situation, but she couldn’t stop.

“What are you laughing about?” Ron demanded.

“I don’t have a magic potion I can pour over you like Achilles’s mother.”

“She didn’t have a potion,” Ron said. “She held him by his heel and dipped him in the River Styx.”

Kathryn was impressed despite herself. “Sorry. I’ll try to avoid sloppy classical allusions.”

“I like mythology,” Ron said.

She wouldn’t have expected that of him, but maybe he associated himself with the godlike humans of antiquity. He’d certainly accomplished enough to give him an exaggerated opinion of himself.

“I’m more attracted to early nineteenth century English literature,” she said.

“The romantic period.”

“Yes, I suppose you could call it that, though the term usually refers to poetry.”

“What else would you call the Brontës?” He seemed to realize he was off topic and give himself a mental shake. “But I didn’t come here to discuss mythology or literature.”

“You came here to learn how to become sensitive in one easy lesson.”

“I don’t expect it to be easy.”

“Good. You can begin by not glaring at me. You have to be receptive to the feelings of others, able to interpret the slightest hint of what they may be feeling inside. As long as you’re angry at me, you’re too busy projecting feelings to be able to receive any.”

“I’m not angry at you.”

“Look at your facial expression,” she said pointing to a mirror mounted in an ornate gold frame on the wall.

He was so slow to rise she thought he wasn’t going to move. But once he stood, he moved quickly.

“What’s wrong with my expression?” he asked.

“You look like you’re about to chew somebody out.”

“That’s how I always look.”

“Then it’s a good place to start. Smile.”

It was more of a grimace.

“Like you meant it. Imagine—”

“I don’t need any help knowing what to imagine.”

His smile was brilliant, warm, sexy. A mistake. It transformed him into a person she found even more attractive. “Okay, we know you can smile,” she said, turning away from the mirror. “Now let’s see how you sit.”

He sat on the edge of his chair, leaning forward from the waist as if he were ready to pounce at any moment.

“Relax. You look like you’re ready to attack the first person who disagrees with you, or so eager to speak you won’t be willing to listen.”

“I have to convince people they’re making the best decision they can when they accept my offer.”

“And if they don’t?”

“I keep after them.”

“Why?”

“I can’t stand it when people make stupid decisions.”

“You can’t be judgmental,” Kathryn said. “There’s no right or wrong with people’s feelings. All feelings are okay.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“What would you say if I told you your feelings for Cynthia and her situation were all wrong?”

“I’d say you were nuts.”

“As long as you feel like that, you’ll never be able to understand her or make her care how you feel.”

“But you don’t want me to tell her what I feel.”

“She already knows.”

“Then what’s this sensitivity mumbo jumbo all about?”

“She needs to feel you’re not angry at her, that you’re not condemning her. Most important of all, she needs to feel you still love her.”

“Of course I love her. But I’m not going to tell her I’m glad she’s pregnant at sixteen, or that I’m looking forward to meeting the horny kid who’s responsible for this.”

Kathryn supposed she couldn’t blame him for being upset. “Mr. Egan, you can’t say anything like that to Cynthia.”

“Why not?”

“Because it will prove to her you don’t understand her feelings.”

“I don’t.”

“Then it’s up to you to change enough so you can.”

He sat there a moment, apparently thinking of one response after another and rejecting them all.

“And how do you propose I do that?” he asked finally.

“You can begin by asking Cynthia how she feels about what’s happening, about the kind of future she wants for her and her baby. You don’t have to agree with what she says, but you have to make her feel you’re not condemning her in any way. And when you do make a decision, she has got to feel you’re putting her wishes ahead of your own.”

“She’s sixteen. She doesn’t know what’s best for her.”

“Then you have to be so sensitive to her thoughts, you can guide them without her knowing you’re doing it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Isn’t that what you do in your business, convince people your way is the right way?”

“I don’t waste time letting them think they’re right in the first place. I knock the props out from under them within ten minutes. I destroy their security so completely they can’t help but look for another way out.”

“Maybe you should have talked to your wife more.”

“Erin never asked me to stay home from a meeting or to leave the office early. My success was as important to her as it is to me.”

Kathryn couldn’t understand any woman feeling that way. “I don’t think it’s important to Cynthia.”

“Then what is?”

“You are.”

“She goes to the best school, we live in a new house in the best part of town and she has four people who are paid to see she has everything she needs. What else can I do for her?”

“You can stay home more. You can make her feel she’s more important than your work.”

Ron reacted as though she’d slapped him. “My work has never been as important as Cynthia!”

“Then why were you in Switzerland?”

“Because it’s my job.”

“Are you sure it’s not about making more money, about control rather than making a company more efficient?”

His lips had thinned to an angry line. “What do you know about business?”

“Not as much as you do, but my father is a businessman and he’s never home. Not one of his four children believes we or our mother are as important as his work.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Okay. Since you feel what I’m doing isn’t working, what do you propose I do?”

“You could begin by taking a leave of absence from your job. You’ve got enough money to retire right now.”

“And sit around all day understanding my daughter and some boy I have yet to meet?”

“That’s a good place to start. Cynthia obviously isn’t as materialistic as you. You need to try to see the world from her viewpoint.”

“Did you ever ask your father why he worked so hard?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“For his self-respect.”

“Did you understand that?”

“Not really.”

Ron suddenly seemed charged with energy. “Tell your housekeeper we’ll be gone for a few hours.”

“I can’t leave.”

“You’re teaching me to be sensitive. Remember? Well, you can’t do that if you don’t understand my feelings, and you never will unless I show you a few things you know nothing about.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere I’m sure you’ve never been before.”

Chapter Three

Kathryn had ridden in several Bentleys before but never in one she was certain cost more than three hundred thousand dollars. She was just as certain the car had never been down these particular roads. Neither had she.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Where I grew up,” Ron said.

They had left Charlotte and were somewhere in what she presumed was the far reaches of southern Mecklenberg County. It was an area where small farms were either still in production or had been allowed to grow into young forests. Some areas next to Lake Wylie had been developed into upscale resorts. Ron pulled off the road into the parking lot of a local fish camp, turned away from the restaurant, and drove into a strip of woods. When they emerged on the other side, she saw the trailer park.

Ron pulled the Bentley to a stop near a small trailer. The grass around it had been cut recently, but the steps had collapsed and the trailer had rusted badly. “That’s where I grew up.”

“Does anyone live here?”

“No. I still own it.”

“Why?”

“So I never forget where I came from.”

Kathryn looked at laundry hanging on lines, children playing in the spring sun wearing nothing but dirty underpants, two women looking tired and worn down, and a hound dog lazing in the sun. Kathryn felt as if she were gazing at the set for a black-and-white movie set in the fifties.

“I lived here until I was fourteen,” Ron said. “I was ten years old before I knew enough to hate it.”

“What happened?”

“We had court-ordered busing for desegregation. I got sent to a wealthy white neighborhood where I saw kids I thought existed only on TV. I came home and told my parents, but they didn’t care that I didn’t have a winter coat or shoes without holes in them as long as they had enough booze. The rich kids had so much stuff they didn’t bother keeping track of it. I got a coat from the lost and found. I even found a pair of shoes my size.”

He sounded as though he were talking about somebody else, but Kathryn knew he would never have held on to the rusting trailer if he didn’t still feel the hurt.

“When I heard one of the boys say Charlotte Country Day School was giving scholarships to smart kids, I made up my mind to get one. My parents didn’t want me mixing with the rich kids. They thought it would turn me into a snob. I didn’t know what was at that school, but I knew it was something I wanted.”

“I gather you got that scholarship,” Kathryn said.

He nodded. “But I didn’t get what I wanted. I was overweight, wore glasses, was smarter than anybody else in my class, and I was a trailer park kid. I had nothing to do but study hard so I could win a college scholarship.”

“To Yale.”

“And Harvard for my MBA.”

“Your parents must have been very proud of you.”

“My parents were supposed to come to my high school graduation. I was valedictorian. I wanted them to see what I’d accomplished. I wanted them to be proud of me.”

Ron’s voice had taken on a different tone, one she could only describe as trying to keep some fierce emotion in check.

“A friend talked them into going drinking instead. They were killed when he lost control of his car trying to outrun the police.”

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Don’t be. I don’t think they cared much.”

“Is that why you care so much?”

He turned to face her. “You can’t understand where I’m coming from because you’ve never been there. You can’t understand what drives me because you’ve always had everything—looks, money, acceptance.”

“Try me.”

Ron retrieved an envelope from the glove compartment. He opened it and pulled out a picture. “That’s me at sixteen, fat, glasses and all.” He pulled out a second picture. She was stunned to see it was of her debutante ball.

“Where did you get that picture?”

“Newspaper archives go back years.” He pulled out another picture. “This is what I looked like at eighteen when I worked at Taco Bell.” And another picture. “This is you.” The picture had been taken just before a group of students from her boarding school went to France on an exchange program.

“I won’t apologize for having advantages others don’t.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just saying you don’t know what it’s like to be poor, to not have proper food, warm clothes, toys at Christmas. Even worse, what it’s like being ignored, realizing nobody knows you exist, wouldn’t care if you didn’t. That really gets to you. You’ve been accepted your whole life just because of who you are. I’ve had to earn recognition, sometimes force people to give it to me. Well, nobody is going to ignore Cynthia. I’ll see to that.”

She was beginning to understand. It really wasn’t about the money. “But Cynthia does feel ignored…by you.”

“I’ve done everything I could for her.”

“You’ve paid someone else to do it. She’d rather it had been you.”

After an uncomfortable silence, she picked up the second picture. “You don’t look like that now. What happened?”

He grinned, and something inside her went all open and tender. She wished he wouldn’t do that. She didn’t like the effect on her.

“I had a late growth spurt, lost my baby fat, took up intramural sports and got contacts.”

“No hormones or steroids?”

“Just decent food and exercise.”

She smiled. “And shoes without holes.”

He smiled back. “And not from the lost and found.”

“Was it hard being a scholarship student?” She didn’t know why she asked that question. All the schools she’d attended had scholarship students. She knew they usually felt left out and unwanted.

“I hated it. I felt I ought to at least be given a chance to prove I could fit in. The other scholarship kids didn’t seem to care, but it ate away at me all the time. From that first day in the fourth grade, I swore one day I’d be so successful nobody could ignore me.”

He’d certainly done that. He’d made the cover of several business magazines during the past year. The Charlotte Observer had run a feature article on him. “I won’t pretend to understand,” Kathryn said, looking at the rusted hulk of the trailer, “but everybody knows who you are now.”

“But they don’t accept me. I went to their schools and played touch football with them. I have the money, but I don’t have the pedigree. I don’t have the family history.”

Kathryn remembered how her friends made comments about people with less money, looks and sophistication. There had always been an unspoken barrier that separated them, that constantly reminded them they weren’t good enough. She’d never really stopped to think how that must have made them feel. Rather than discriminate against them, she should have admired them for having the courage to tackle and overcome obstacles she didn’t have to face. “Not all our families have a history I’d want.”

“It doesn’t have to be good. It just has to be well-known. Well, Cynthia’s going to have a history, even if it’s short.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want the same things you want.”

“Maybe not, but she doesn’t want to be a nobody.”

She felt sorry for him. His parents had died without giving him the love and acceptance he needed. His wife had died before he was much more than another Harvard MBA struggling to make a place for himself in the business world. Cynthia was too young to appreciate her father’s accomplishments. He had turned to the public to give him the feeling of acceptance and approval he couldn’t get anywhere else.

Her life hadn’t been perfect, but at least she had a family that loved her. Still, as much as she sympathized with Ron, she couldn’t lose sight of the fact her first concern was Cynthia. Ron was tough. He’d proved he could take care of himself. Cynthia had proved she couldn’t.

“Let’s go,” Ron said. “We’re conspicuous.”

Like a three-hundred-thousand-dollar car in a squalid trailer park wouldn’t be! He pulled to a stop at a boardwalk behind the fish camp that overlooked the lake. They got out. The breeze coming off the lake was refreshingly cool. It smelled of crisp water and honeysuckle.

“I used to watch the boats,” Ron said. “I’d try to imagine what it would be like to roar across the lake in one of those big boats without caring that my wake might capsize some little boat.”

“I always hated people who did that. Did you ever buy a boat?”

“Lake Norman is the place to be now. It wasn’t the same.”

Her father had bought a house at Lake Norman. He said Lake Wylie was for the middle class. “Did you do the other things you dreamed you’d do when you were finally successful?”

“I bought a house in the best neighborhood and sent my daughter to the best school in town. She has the best of everything.”

“What if she considers you the best of everything?”

“Cynthia knows I have to work, or we won’t have the money for all those things.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want them.”

“She would if she didn’t have them.”

“Maybe not so much.”

“Look, I can’t go to a company and say I’ll only do seventy-six thousand dollars worth of work because I need only seventy-six thousand dollars this year. They’d think I was a fool and hire someone else. I have to charge top dollar, or they won’t think I’m good enough to hire.”

“Even if it’s a million dollars?”

“You’re talking companies worth thirty, fifty, a hundred billion dollars. A million is pocket change to them. More than the cost, what’s important is the quality of the service, the expert personal attention to every detail. I have an office of fifteen full-time staff. That can double or triple depending on the job. Then there are bonuses and percentages. I have to get paid well. A lot of people depend on me.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that nothing can replace you in your daughter’s life.”

“Who do you think I’m doing all this for?”

He wasn’t getting the point. “Maybe you’ve reached the point where your success has isolated you from Cynthia.”

“I know it’s kept us apart more than I want, but I have to go where the work takes me.”

Now he was making excuses for doing what he wanted to do. She wouldn’t let him get away with that. “Every decision is yours to make one way or the other. Everything is a choice. Some of the choices you’ve made have hurt Cynthia.”

“I can’t help that.”

“Of course you can. It doesn’t matter that some decisions don’t work out the way you wanted or planned, they’re still your decisions and you’re still responsible for the results, for seeing that something is going wrong and doing something about it.”

She wondered what was going on in his mind as he stared out over the lake. Was he remembering his parents and his childhood here, his progression from school to school, or was he thinking of his wife and daughter? She wondered if his career left him time to think of anything else.

She wondered why he hadn’t remarried.

He was relatively young—the Observer article said he was forty—handsome and rich, characteristics that would make him the target of beautiful women the world over. Add to that intelligence, a vibrant personality, excellent taste in clothes and cars, and you had a catch of the first order. She was certain he wasn’t immune to women. She’d seen the way he looked at her.

Yet for some reason, she didn’t think he’d spent the last ten years traipsing through available bedrooms on both sides of the Atlantic. She had no knowledge of his personal life, but the articles she read failed to mention a constant companion. Even business articles these days rarely overlooked such interesting facts.

“Erin encouraged me to put my career first,” he said without turning away from the lake. “She didn’t want a family to hold me back. She said she would take care of things I forgot or was too busy to do. She wanted me to be successful.”

Kathryn remembered reading that Erin Egan had died of ovarian cancer.

“After she died I worked even harder. I felt guilty because I hadn’t achieved the success she desperately wanted for Cynthia, for all the other children we planned to have. She said we had to sacrifice in the beginning to get where we wanted to be in the end.”

Kathryn wondered if he was still so much in love with his wife he was still living his life for her.

He turned his gaze from the lake to her. “I’m not going to pretend I did everything for Erin, but we were like partners, each willing to do our part.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Yes.”

His smile seemed bleak, in contrast to the glorious spring day filled with sunshine.

“We were friends bound together by a mutual goal. I think that brought us closer than passion could. When she died, I was left to carry on alone. I realize now I should have known I had to reassess, but I thought Cynthia was too young to need me. I planned to work hard then so I could take some time off when she grew up. I guess I got too busy to realize the situation had changed.”

“She always needed you,” Kathryn said. “She just couldn’t tell you how much.”

“What can a grown man do with a little girl?”

“Love her.”

“I did love her.”

“I’m sure you did, but in a child’s eyes, love means being there, holding her hand, playing with her, telling her stories and kissing her good-night. Your physical presence counts far more than what you say.”

He turned back to the water. “So you’re saying I’m a failure as a father.”

Was she? She certainly considered her own father a failure, but she hesitated to make the same decision about Ron. If he hadn’t loved his daughter, he wouldn’t have left his meeting in Geneva. She didn’t know much about big business, but she did know people at his level weren’t expected to let anything interfere with their work. There was always somebody willing to make whatever sacrifice was necessary to reach the top. She wondered what his coming home would cost him.

“No. I’m just saying you haven’t understood what your daughter needed from you.”

“Do you?”

“In general. My own father has a career that keeps him away from home most of the time, but everybody’s different. Cynthia may not need what I needed.”

“What did you need?”

She hadn’t expected the spotlight to be turned on her. “What I needed isn’t important. It’s what Cynthia needs.”

“You’ve just said we’re not communicating well. If I can understand what you needed, maybe I’ll have a better chance of understanding Cynthia.”

She wondered if he looked at his clients the way he was looking at her. He was so earnest, so sincere, she found it nearly impossible to resist him. “Mr. Egan, I make it a point to keep my relationship with the families of the girls impersonal.”

“You have to try to understand the parents, or you can’t help restore a relationship that’s broken down.”

“I don’t attempt to restore relationships. I leave that to the girls.”

“How can you possibly say you’re doing your best for these girls when you leave out the most important part of all, helping them restore a family relationship that has broken down so badly they’ve turned to you for help?”

“My purpose is to provide a place for them to stay, a way to continue their education, a way to have their baby safely. I’ve taken classes in psychology and counseling, but I don’t consider myself a professional psychologist or counselor.”

“Then you’re not qualified for your job.”

She pushed back the anger. She had attacked him, and he was attacking back. It wasn’t much fun, but she guessed she could understand it. “I don’t think you understand my role here. I’m the administrator. I hire qualified people to do the teaching, counseling, career planning, the training in how to take care of their babies.”

“Then your understanding of what they want and need from their families is all you have to offer. So tell me what you wanted from your father. You wanted it very badly, or you’d never have done what you’re doing now.”

No other parent had asked this of her, but she’d never been this interested in a parent of one of her girls. There was something about this man that forced her to respond to him. She warned herself to be careful. He’d made a fortune persuading people to do things against their wills. Naturally he would use the same skills on her. He already had in persuading her to come with him today, in making her like him even though she disapproved of almost everything about him.

But maybe his question wasn’t as unreasonable as it sounded at first. He had taken a great chance when he left his meeting to come home. This was a second day and he hadn’t said anything about returning to Geneva. He clearly wanted to help his daughter. She had asked him to jeopardize something he loved, and he had done it without hesitation. Would she have jeopardized the shelter under similar circumstances?

She returned his gaze, searching his face for even the tiniest evidence of insincerity, of game playing, of one-upmanship, of anything that would indicate he wasn’t being entirely truthful.

What she found was a tremendously attractive man focusing his attention on her. He was asking about his daughter, but she felt he really did want to know about her, that his interest was sincere, not a vehicle to another objective. And she found she cared more than she wanted about his success. Or was it simply that this man was so attractive, so charismatic, she couldn’t help herself?

She hoped the answer wasn’t the affirmative. She didn’t want to feel even the slightest twinge of interest in a man who had put his career before his family. She didn’t want to be attracted to a man who would be more interested in pleasing others than in pleasing her. She had very strict guidelines for any man she considered dating. Not that Ron had asked her for a date, but she refused to be interested, even on a casual basis, in a man who didn’t satisfy her list of requirements. Ron Egan would bottom out before she got halfway through.

“Every girl wants something different,” she stated.

“I’m asking you to speak for yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because you interest me. I want to know what makes you tick.”

“A well-balanced diet, sufficient rest and regular exercise.”

He laughed. She hadn’t expected that. It was a deep, thoroughly masculine sound that reached a receptive place inside the core of her. The tug of attraction grew even stronger, her will to resist weaker. Warning bells went off in her head. This man is dangerous.

“Do you always keep men at such a safe distance?” he asked.

“You’re not a man. I mean, you’re the father of one of my girls. I don’t look at you the same as I would other men.”

“Why can’t you think of me as a man as well as Cynthia’s father?”

“Because it’s my job to see you as Cynthia’s father.”

“Does that preclude any other relationship?”

“I don’t have relationships with the fathers of my girls. It would be highly unprofessional.”

“Why? Would it cloud your judgment?”

“No, but—”

“Why not?”

She didn’t understand how the ground had shifted so unexpectedly, how she was now on the defensive.

“Are you always professional at any price?” he asked. “Don’t your emotions ever overpower your intellect?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t require that you believe me.”

“But I want to.”

“Why?”

“I might be a father, but I like attractive women.”

“Mr. Egan, this is not an appropriate conversation.”

“Call me Ron. And what’s inappropriate about a man telling a woman he finds her attractive?”

“It’s the circumstances.”

“Tell me what circumstances you find proper, and I’ll set them up.”

Just like her father. He thought money and power could solve any problem. But her irritation at his assumption didn’t smother a desire to answer his question. Nor did it stop her from wondering what it would have been like to have met him under different circumstances.

“I’m sure you’ve met hundreds of attractive women in the course of your career,” Kathryn said, trying hard to sound businesslike, “yet you were able to set that aside and concentrate on your business.”

“Sure.”

“That’s what you have to do now.”

“Why?”

He was a very stubborn man, but she guessed he hadn’t made it to the top by taking no for an answer. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because I don’t see a conflict. I can find you attractive and still work with you to understand my daughter.”

“Yes, but finding me attractive isn’t the same as trying to establish a personal relationship between us.”

“I didn’t say anything about a personal relationship. Did you say that because you find me attractive?”

She was trapped. The only way out was to be completely candid. “You know you’re an attractive man. I’m sure you’ve studied your personal appearance in minute detail, put it together like a well-orchestrated game plan, and use it to every possible advantage.”

He grinned. She wished he wouldn’t.

“Of course I do. Everybody prefers to be around attractive people. If they didn’t, half the people in movies and TV would disappear tomorrow. But we’re not talking business. We’re talking personal.”

“I’m not.”

“I am.”

“Mr. Egan—”

“Ron.”

“Mr. Egan—”

“I won’t let you finish that sentence unless you call me Ron.”

He had moved closer to her. She wasn’t easily intimidated, but she had to consciously stop herself from pulling back. She refused to give ground to this man even if her pulse had started pounding in a very unnerving sort of way, even if her normally logical mind was having difficulty maintaining the thread of her argument. Ron Egan was an absentee father who needed to be made aware of the damage his preoccupation with his career had done to his daughter.

“It’s time we went back. I’ve found your background very helpful, but—”

“We can’t leave.”

“Why?”

“You haven’t called me Ron.”

“I don’t need to.”

“I want to hear it.”

He was leaning on the railing, his weight on his left arm, looking up at her with the ingenuousness of a teenager trying to wheedle his way out of trouble. Only he was trying to wheedle her into it.

“Ron. There, I said it.”

“Don’t make it sound like a dose of bad medicine. Make it sound like you might even like me a little.”

“Look, I don’t—”

“Are you always this resistant with men?”

She didn’t understand why she’d let their conversation become so personal. “I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“I do my most effective work that way. When we do get down to business, it’s usually just working out the details of something we’ve already decided.”

“I’m not a businessperson. I’m a people person, and I find it easier to keep the two separate.”

“That’s a very interesting concept. Why don’t we have lunch and discuss it?”

Chapter Four

“Okay,” Ron said, lobster juice dripping from his elbows onto the tablecloth-size napkin tucked into his collar, “we’ve decided I’m a true pirate of high finance. I give no quarter and expect none. I think everyone should take responsibility for their own actions and not expect outside help. You blame my career, my pursuit of money and power, even my failure to marry again, for my abysmal failure as a father. I think we’ve covered me. Now I want to hear about you. What did you want from your father that you didn’t get?”

She’d known from the moment she agreed to have lunch with him she had to answer his question. She’d ordered lobster salad. He ordered a lobster in the shell. He’d surprised her by taking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves. She understood why when he let the juice run down his arms to his elbows.

“Do you always eat lobster like that?” she asked.

“No. I can ease the little sucker out of his shell without getting a single drop on a linen tablecloth that costs more than some cars. But you’re not going to distract me any longer. You have me at your mercy. I want to become a better father. Tell me about yourself.”

She had tried, without success, to convince him that her experiences had nothing to do with his success or failure as a father, but it appeared the only way to convince him was to tell him what he wanted to know.

“My father was away from home much of the time. When he was home, he was always meeting someone or bringing them to the house. There never seemed to be any time when he belonged to just us, when nobody else could interrupt or call him away. The few times he did find himself alone with us—on a family vacation or for an evening at home—I think he was bored and restless. I don’t think he was interested in us.”

“I take it he never played with you as a kid, read you stories, or kissed you good-night.”

“Never.” She hoped she didn’t sound as if she were whining. It was a fact she’d accepted. She didn’t think too much about it until he kicked her sister Elizabeth out of the house. She had never forgiven him for that.

“How did you rebuild your relationship? Maybe I can do the same thing with Cynthia.”

“It’s not the same. I’m an adult. I don’t live at home.”

His gaze seemed to become more intense. “Are you trying not to tell me that you and your father don’t have a good relationship?”

She might as well get it over with. Ron Egan seemed to have a genius for finding the weak spots. “My father I and had a serious disagreement about ten years ago. We don’t see each other much.”

“How much is that?”

She stopped playing with the remains of her salad and looked him square in the face. “Usually once a month.”

“Since when?”

“Since he threw my sister out of the house.”

He took his napkin out of his collar, and carefully wiped his mouth and his hands. Then he sat back. “Tell me about it.”

She couldn’t believe she was getting ready to tell a man she’d known less than twenty-four hours about one of the most difficult episodes of her life, but for some reason she felt she could share it with him.

“My sister got pregnant when she was in high school. She was seventeen and wildly in love with the boy. My father wouldn’t let her marry him. And after she did anyway, he said they couldn’t live in his house.”

“Why?”

“He said the boy was a shiftless bloodsucker. He said my sister had been stealing stuff from his office. Elizabeth was a little wild, but she wouldn’t have done anything like that.”

“Did you do anything to help?”

“I wasn’t there. I was the good daughter who did everything Mom and Dad wanted. I was at boarding school. Elizabeth got herself kicked out of Country Day so she could go to public school. I dated boys from approved families. Elizabeth chose half her dates just because she knew they’d make my father furious.”

“So you dedicated yourself to pregnant teenage girls because you think your sister got a raw deal.”

“What would you have done?”

“Locked them in the same room until they came to some solution.”

“That may work in business, though I wouldn’t have thought so, but it doesn’t work with personal relationships. You each have to try to understand where the other is coming from.”

“Coddle them and make them think being stupid is an acceptable way to behave.”

She folded her napkin. It was time to leave. “That’s not what I said.”

He put a fifty-dollar bill on the table and rose. “You said your father and sister should be allowed to stay at odds with each other because you have to honor their feelings. Yet you said I ought to take a leave of absence to repair my relationship with my daughter. Your logic is inconsistent. Either you have a set of principles that work in all situations, or you don’t have a workable theory.”

She had preceded him out of the restaurant and she waited to answer him until they were in the car.

“I told you I don’t pretend to be a professional, so I don’t give advice.”

“You’re giving me advice.”

“Only because you insisted.”

Kathryn didn’t know how she’d let herself get drawn into helping Ron. All the other parents had been more than willing to meet with the specialists she recommended. Why couldn’t she keep her distance from the Egans?

Something had been different about them from the first. Cynthia wasn’t like the other girls. Or maybe she had reacted differently to her because Cynthia wasn’t panicked or hysterical or even silent and moody. Kathryn felt almost as though they were equals even though Cynthia was only half her age.

She didn’t kid herself when it came to Ron Egan. Everything was different because her physical response to him had been immediate and undeniable. It didn’t matter that she might disagree with him in every way. As a man, she found him powerfully attractive. She wanted to be around him even though she knew it was a foolish thing to do.

He seemed to be truly interested in learning to communicate with his daughter, but he had no idea how to begin. If she didn’t help him, he was liable to treat Cynthia as a hostile takeover. They could end up like her own family.

“From now on you and Cynthia will have to work things out on your own.”

“Good. That means you’ll be able to go on a date with me tonight, and you won’t have to tell me how I’m doing everything wrong.”

“Everyone will know what I did. How is that better?” Cynthia asked.

“It will be a lot better if you see your friends,” Kathryn said.

They had been talking for nearly half an hour. Rather, Kathryn and Cynthia had been talking. Ron had been mostly listening, putting in a word now and then, responding when addressed directly. He felt as if they were conversing in a foreign tongue. The words were ones he knew, but they seemed to have different meanings from what he expected. He wondered if it was just a woman thing, or if there was some special bonding between them. He couldn’t remember Cynthia ever being so open and relaxed with Margaret Norwood or the governess, and they’d known her most of her life.

They’d come back to find that Cynthia’s best friend, Leigh Stedman, had come by to see her. After refusing to see her, Cynthia had locked herself in her room, extremely upset anyone at school knew where she was or that she was pregnant. It had taken Kathryn several minutes to convince Cynthia to let her into her room. It had taken more than thirty minutes to convince her to talk with her father.

Pacing up and down the large living room, he’d had plenty of time to rehearse what he meant to say. He’d even edited it to make sure he wasn’t too severe. But when Cynthia walked through that door, she didn’t look like a confident young woman any longer. She looked like the little girl who used to like to curl up in his lap and go to sleep when he worked late. He’d instinctively held out his arms, and she’d come to him.

For a few minutes everything was the way it used to be. They held each other while she cried. But as soon as her tears dried up, she became stiff, their positions awkward. When he released her, she moved away, ultimately sitting in a chair rather than on the sofa next to him. She looked so small, sitting in that huge overstuffed chair with her feet tucked under her, he could almost think of her as his little girl again. But he would have been fooling himself. At first she’d talked exclusively to Kathryn. It was as though she was embarrassed she’d cried in front of him. He’d wanted to tell her it was all right, that she never had to be afraid to come to him when she was frightened or feeling alone.

“I wouldn’t look at it like that,” Kathryn said. “You have a friend who knows what happened, and she still wants to be your friend.”

“I don’t have any real friends,” Cynthia said.

“I’ll bet you do,” Kathryn said. “You’ve only been here two days, and already you’re everybody’s favorite. People can’t help but want to be your friend.”

Ron didn’t know if Cynthia believed that, but it seemed to improve her spirits.

Cynthia chewed on her lower lip. “They won’t want a friend with a baby,” she said.

“All real friendships expand to include other people—boyfriends, husbands, children, even other friends. You’ll see if you just give your friends a chance.”

“Leigh’s parents are just about the most important people in Charlotte,” Cynthia said. “They’ll never let her have anything to do with an unwed mother.”

“I think you ought to give Leigh and her family a chance to make that decision rather than you making it for them. I think you’ll find very few people are so narrow-minded, so unwilling to make allowances for mistakes.”

Ron knew it must have been difficult for Kathryn to say that when her own parents had turned their backs on their daughter for the same reason.

“Leigh told Lisette she’s coming back tomorrow,” Kathryn said. “You’ve got to make up your mind what you’re going to do.”

“Do you like this girl?” Ron asked.

“Of course I like her,” Cynthia said impatiently. “I said she was my best friend, didn’t I?”

“Would you still want to be her friend if she got pregnant?” he asked.

Cynthia shifted position in the chair before she answered. “Yes, I would.”

“Then I’m sure she feels the same way about you.”

“I expect it will hurt Leigh a great deal if you cut her off,” Kathryn said

“There’s somebody else you need to see,” Ron said.

“Who?” Cynthia asked.

“Margaret. She’s helped take care of you from the day your mother and I brought you home from the hospital. She’s devastated you would run away from her.”

“This has nothing to do with her,” Cynthia said.

“She loves you. That means everything you do affects her. The same is true for Rose, Rosco and Gretta even though they’ve known you only half as long. If you don’t feel you can go see them, at least talk to them on the telephone.”

“I didn’t think they’d care.”

“Margaret cares a lot. She treated your mother like her own daughter.”

Ron didn’t know whether making Cynthia think about how her behavior had affected others was the best thing to do, but he did know it would stop her from thinking she was isolated and unloved. Maybe if she could believe other people loved her, she could believe he loved her, too.

“Gretta said Margaret’s been so upset she hasn’t been able to sleep,” Ron said.

Cynthia got up. “I’d better call her now. She feels sick when she can’t sleep.”

“That went better than I expected,” Kathryn said after Cynthia left the room.

“Margaret Norwood has been like a mother to her. Cynthia’s been so worried about me, the baby’s father and her friends, she’s forgotten the woman who’s taken care of her since she was born.”

“Talking to them and seeing Leigh will help pull her out of her isolation. I think you’ve done very well for one day.”

“We’ve done well. You’re still coaching me, remember?”

“You don’t need coaching.”

“That’s because you think I’m so hopeless I’m hardly worth the trouble.”

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s only fair that you give me a chance to change your mind. Have dinner with me.”

“Are you asking me for a date?”

“Didn’t it sound like that? I haven’t done it in a long time, but surely things haven’t changed that much.”

“I told you earlier I don’t go out with clients.”

“I’m not your client. Cynthia is.”

“You’re close enough.”

“Then you pick what we do. A movie, dinner, the museum. I’m flying back to Geneva late tonight.”

“I wondered how long it would be before you went back.”

“I’m coming back right after the meeting. I won’t be gone more than a day at a time until we get this thing sorted out.”

“You need to stop including me.”

“You’re my advisor. Forget the professionals,” he said when she started to protest. “I’m not going to sue you for practicing without a license. Just consider me a friend who needs your advice.”

“Do you?”

“Especially tonight. I haven’t dated a beautiful woman since my wife died.”

“You’ll have to ask someone else.”

“When you decide what you want to do, let me know when to pick you up. Now I’ve got to call Geneva and find out how the meeting went today.”

Then he was gone, leaving Kathryn’s sputtering protests hanging in the air.

Kathryn decided she needed a new backbone. The one she had obviously wasn’t doing the job. She was annoyed with herself for agreeing to go on this date. She had talked herself out of it at least twice before she picked up the phone to call him. She hadn’t realized what a terrible snob she was until tonight. She’d given Ron three choices for the evening. The Charlotte Opera’s production of Puccini’s Tosca, the Mint Museum’s exhibit of Tutankhamen, or the latest Harry Potter movie. Rather than accuse her of being exactly the kind of snob he’d suffered from growing up, he discussed her choices as if they were all of equal importance.

He said he’d always want to see Tosca, but after hearing the recording of Maria Callas in the role, he didn’t think he could stand to hear anyone who wasn’t absolutely world-class. He’d already seen the Tutankhamen exhibit, so if she didn’t mind, they’d catch an early showing of the movie, have a late dinner, and she could drop him off at the airport.

Snobbery had caused her to pit the movie against Tosca and King Tut. Honesty forced her to admit she’d enjoyed it. And being with Ron.

“I realized early that being a success in the business world and being accepted in the social one were two different things,” Ron was saying over dinner at one of his private clubs. “I signed up for every art and music class I could fit into my schedule. I even went to a couple of ballets.” He made a face. “I can’t say I enjoy men in pants so tight it makes me uncomfortable just to watch them, but I like opera. I don’t even care if the soprano is twice as big and three times as old as the heroine is supposed to be. I just get angry when they go for a high note and can’t reach it. You’d think they wouldn’t give the part to someone who can’t sing the notes.”

He’d gone from Harry Potter to sports—the University of North Carolina, her alma mater, had just won the national soccer title—to opera. They’d discussed city planning when he said he wished she could get the city fathers to establish more parks. He said people in the inner city needed places for picnics and family gatherings, not just soccer fields, bike trails and ponds for ducks and geese. He was also in favor of preserving more trees, establishing deeper green belts around lakes and rivers, and improving public transportation.

Two things they didn’t discuss were his job and hers.

“I can’t believe you studied all those things just so you could talk to rich people at parties.”

He laughed as if she’d made a joke. She didn’t know more than a dozen men who could talk about anything remotely cultural. Most didn’t consider it something a man needed to know. Like religion and table manners, culture was left to their wives.

“There’s a lot more to business than just knowing how to do your job. Besides, I found I liked learning about all those things. It rounded me off, gave me that finish only a certain kind of education and lifestyle can give you. And as I said, I like the Impressionists, opera and Greek myths. I also like horse racing, but I can’t afford that.”

The more he talked, the more she realized she’d underestimated him, the more she started to feel he probably knew more about everything than she did.

“What do you do for fun?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Everybody has something they do when they want to let their hair down.”

“I don’t have time. In my business if you don’t work all the time, somebody passes you.”

“You’ll go crazy.”

“Not if you like your work. The pressure can be intense and the hours long, but I like challenges, pitting myself against the other guy.”

“That sounds primitive.”

“It is. Instead of doing it with rocks and spears, we do it with computers and leveraged buyouts. But there are some things I don’t like. I hate golf. It’s a boring game, but every executive in the world seems to play. I find eating endless meals at high-priced restaurants or tedious dinner parties a waste of time. And I have little appreciation for fine wines or aged whiskey.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “I’m surprised they haven’t thrown you out of the country club.” She nearly swallowed her words. Did he belong to any country clubs? Some discriminated for the most ridiculous reasons.

“Not yet, but I don’t go often enough to offend anyone. Belonging to the right club is part of business in Europe. You’ve got to be the right sort before they’ll touch your money.”

He said it all as if it didn’t matter, but she could feel the undertone of resentment. He wasn’t accepted by the people who mattered, even though he’d accomplished more than they had. He’d accepted it as a fact of life, but it was something he wouldn’t—couldn’t—accept for his daughter.

“Now tell me something about yourself,” Ron said. “I find it hard to understand why a pretty woman like you isn’t married with her own children.”

“Is that the only thing you think women are good for, being wives and mothers?” She hadn’t expected that of him, but wasn’t it what he’d done in his own life, left his wife home to take care of the baby while he roamed the world? That’s what her father thought, and just about every other man she knew.

“I’ve come up against too many tough women across the board table to think that,” Ron said. “You’re clearly not interested in a career unless you consider taking care of other people’s children a career.”

“I think of it as a vocation.”

“I think of it as an avocation, something so important you’ll continue to be involved in it but not your main goal in life.”

That’s something else all men seemed to have in common, a certainty they knew what a woman was thinking. She didn’t know which male gene made them feel infallible, but she hoped medical science would soon find a way to eradicate it. It was time men realized they were no more talented or gifted than women, only bigger and often stronger. And the need for bigger and stronger had vanished centuries ago.

“What is my main goal?” She was curious to know what he thought.

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked you. Do you have anything against marriage, or do you just dislike men in general?”

He was clever enough to know he’d taken a wrong step. “I have nothing against marriage or men. I probably would have been married ten years ago if I’d found the right man.”

“Then you should be going out every night, leaving those girls to Ruby. She looks more than capable of handling any trouble.”

“Ruby is absolutely wonderful, but she likes to go to bed early.”

“Then hire one of your experts.”

“I do. I not only date, but I enjoy all the ordinary social activities normal for someone my age.”

“Like what? You avoid your family.”

“Not all the time.”

“And you stopped running and playing tennis because you couldn’t afford to take the time away from the girls. You stopped going to the opera or the symphony because the men you dated didn’t know enough to be able to discuss what they’d heard, and you don’t like professional football, basketball, soccer or hockey because they’re loud and too violent. I won’t even ask about stock car racing. I can’t see you with that crowd.”

“You make me sound like an unbearable snob.”

“No, you make yourself look like a woman who’s cut herself off from the rest of the world. You’re young, beautiful, wealthy, intelligent, good company and you have a sense of humor when you let yourself relax. You’ve got more going for you than ninety-nine out of a hundred women, so why aren’t you out there having the time of your life?”

“You’ve known me for less than two days. What do you think gives you the right to ask such a question?”

“Nothing gives me the right unless it’s that I’m interested in you. I even like you. I sure as hell know you’re sexy. I’m surprised you don’t have to station Ruby at the door to drive off dates so overcome by your body they forget themselves on the front porch.”

She had dated a lot of men, but never one who could segue so smoothly from fine arts to flattery to sexual attraction.

“I’ve never been attacked on the front porch or anywhere else.”

“What kind of men do you go out with? They can’t have an ounce of red blood in their bodies. Or do you give them an injection that renders them harmless for the next four hours.”

She smiled. “No. I interview them first. That’s why I don’t end up with the wrong kind of man.”

He looked at her as if she were crazy. “You interview them?”

“Yes.”

“And they submit to this?”

She began to feel uncomfortable. Some of the men had reacted very unpleasantly. They had been even more rude about her choice of questions, but she refused to give an inch. She wasn’t going to end up like her mother. “Not all of them, but enough.”

“Holy hell! I can hardly wait to know what you ask them.”

Chapter Five

Kathryn had never been reluctant to ask her questions, yet she found herself searching for a reason to turn the conversation to a different subject. “They’re only for men looking for a serious relationship with me.”

“Assume I’d like to have a serious relationship with you.”

Kathryn had memorized her list long ago, but at that moment every item on it flew out of her head. He was the father of one of her girls. He was everything she’d argued against her entire life. There was no denying the sexual attraction between them—she could feel it even at this moment—but he had to know she wouldn’t consider him as a possible candidate for a serious relationship, certainly not one that could result in marriage.