remembers receiving something about the payments being late. She meant to contact them and explain she needed an extension, but because of the time difference and the new club opening, she never got around to making the call.” Laura cringed inwardly as she heard herself repeating her mother’s excuse. It was typical Deirdre behavior, she thought. When confronted with a problem, more often than not, her mother would go into her Scarlett O’Hara mode and plan on dealing with the matter another day. Only she never did deal with the problem. It either took care of itself or it got worse. But this time her mother’s irresponsibility had proven disastrous.
Finally, he removed his glasses and looked up. “It looks legit. Unless your mother can come up with fifteen million dollars in the next thirty days to repay the loan, Hawke Industries can claim the stock she pledged as collateral and take over the hotel. I’m sorry, Laura.”
So was she. But she refused to give up and play dead. Already, a plan was forming in her mind. “In other words, if I can come up with the fifteen million dollars and pay off the loan before the thirty days are up, then Hawke can’t take the hotel. Right?”
“Right. But where are you going to get fifteen million dollars?”
“I don’t know,” she told him honestly. “But I’m not going to just hand over the Contessa to Jackson Hawke without at least trying to save her.”
* * *
He had given her enough time, Jack decided. It hadn’t been easy, but he had made himself wait three days—until after Thanksgiving had passed. Since his mother had walked out on him and his father all those years ago, holidays had been just like any other day as far as he’d been concerned. On those few occasions when his father had attempted to make Thanksgiving or Christmas some warm, fuzzy family event, it had invariably ended with Samuel Hawke pining for the woman who’d run out on them both, then drowning his heartache in a bottle of whiskey. Once his father had died, Jack had been able to stop pretending that holidays were some special family affair.
But something told him that that was just what they were for Laura Spencer—special, warm and fuzzy family affairs. He couldn’t help wondering how she had spent her Thanksgiving. He knew her mother was in France and that her father lived on the East Coast. He also knew she had a slew of step and half siblings scattered across the country. Evidently, she hadn’t traveled to see any of them since she was already at the hotel on the Friday morning following the big turkey day.
Or had she canceled her plans because of him? It was a strong possibility that she had, he conceded. Pushing aside a twinge of guilt that he might have caused her to spend Thanksgiving alone, Jack assured himself that Laura would make up for it at Christmas. She’d probably fly to France and spend it with her mother, he reasoned. Unless, of course, she was planning to spend Christmas with his stepbrother, Matt.
Jack considered that a moment, recalled one of the few times he had visited his mother, her new husband and stepson. The visit had been at Christmas and the entire scene had been something out of a Norman Rockwell painting—only it was a picture in which Jack hadn’t belonged. Laura would belong though. He frowned at the image of Laura with Matt and his family gathered around a Christmas tree, opening gifts, drinking eggnog. According to Fitzpatrick Investigations, she and his stepbrother had been seeing each other for more than a year and it was rumored they’d been seriously involved when she had moved back to New Orleans.
Jack frowned. He knew Matt Peterson. The man thought far too highly of himself to restrict himself to any one female. A leopard didn’t change its spots and neither would his stepbrother. Laura might think that she was the only woman in Peterson’s life, but Jack would bet his vintage Corvette that there were several someone elses. But if Peterson had devoted a year to Laura as the report indicated, his stepbrother had done so for a reason. More than likely that reason had something to do with the senatorial race Peterson was rumored to be considering. Jack considered that angle for a moment. Laura was pretty, smart, well educated and poised. While her parents might be maritally challenged, her family tree was a good one and Laura herself was scandal-free. She would definitely be an asset on a senatorial candidate’s arm and help him to get votes. Her return to New Orleans would have put a kink in Peterson’s plans, but Jack doubted the man had abandoned his goal. He might have shelved it for a while, but Peterson didn’t like losing any more than Jack did. It had been one of the few things they’d had in common. According to Fitzpatrick’s report, the pair had supposedly remained “close” friends despite her move. Just how close were they? he wondered. How many times had Matt tasted her mouth, touched that soft-looking skin, felt her body beneath his?
Envy sliced through him like a scalpel, swift and sharp. Annoyed by the stab of jealousy, Jack reminded himself that his stepbrother had nothing that he wanted. All Jack wanted was to get down to business. Determined to do just that, he entered the executive offices of the hotel. “Is she in?” he asked the receptionist, his voice sharper than he’d intended.
“Yes, but—”
Ignoring her attempts to waylay him, he marched into Laura’s office. “Good morning,” he said as he approached her desk.
“It was.”
Dismissing the barb, Jack met her gaze. Her eyes were the same clear green as the waters in St. Thomas, he decided, and damned but he couldn’t help wondering what it would take to make those eyes turn dark and smoky for him. Irritated with himself and her, Jack decided there was no point in dancing around his reason for being there. His voice was cold, brusque, as he said, “I assume you’ve had an opportunity to speak with your attorney by now.”
“I have.”
He put down his briefcase and withdrew the management contract he had prepared for Laura, along with the purchase agreement for her stock. He also pulled out the letter of resignation he’d had drawn up in the event it was needed. While the transition would be simpler for him if she stayed on at the hotel, he was prepared for her to quit and to buy out her stock. “Then you know that my purchase of your mother’s note is legal.”
“Legal, maybe. But certainly not ethical.”
Refusing to debate her, he continued, “Then you also know that by defaulting on the loan, she forfeited the stock that she pledged as collateral on the loan. Which means Hawke Industries now owns the controlling interest in the Contessa.”
He paused, waited for her to respond. But Laura remained silent. Her demeanor remained unchanged.
Keeping his voice level, he said, “My plan is to turn the Contessa into a five-star property again and recapture the market share it’s lost. As I’ve already told you, I would prefer that you stay on at the hotel as the general manager. But if you choose not to stay, then I’m prepared to accept your resignation and purchase your stock.” He slid both agreements and the resignation letter across the desk so that they rested in front of her. “It’s your call, Ms. Spencer. Are you going to stay? Or are you leaving?”
Laura didn’t even look at the documents he had placed before her. Instead, she met his gaze. There was something hard and determined in her eyes as she said, “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Hawke.”
The news surprised him. After their previous conversations, he had been sure she would turn him down flat. The fact that she hadn’t both pleased and concerned him. He was pleased because it would be good for business to have her stay on. It concerned him because he had the hots for her, he admitted. And she was more than likely sleeping with his stepbrother, he reminded himself. The thought of Laura with the golden boy his mother had chosen as her son over him chafed at Jack, made him feel raw. He couldn’t help wondering how Peterson would feel to come out on the losing end
