paperwork.”
Grant snorted. “You have to be joking? First you have the gall to come wasting my time when I’ve already told you I want nothing to do with your client’s estate, then you expect me to cross the pond because of this nonsense? Look, Ms. Hunter, I haven’t got time for any meetings except those of my choosing. And for the record, I don’t consider this amusing. Quite the opposite,” he bit back icily. “She can stuff her money where the sergeant stuffed the pudding.”
“Excuse me?”
“An old British expression, which I believe speaks for itself.”
Meredith remained silent, looking at him as she might a recalcitrant teenager who sat sulking and scowling into the flames.
“Well, Rowena had a great sense of humor,” she remarked finally, “and she probably would have found that funny. As for me—” she sat up straighter “—I just keep wondering how a savvy businessman like you could be so foolish.” Gallagher sent her a sharp look, but she plowed on. “Surely you didn’t get where you are today by making final decisions without deliberating. That’s a recipe for disaster, as you well know. I can inform you of all the facts, then leave you to make up your mind.”
Letting out a huff, Grant turned and looked at her with a new, arrested expression. His chin went up and his eyes pierced hers, as though seeing her for the first time. “You really aren’t going to leave me alone until you’ve hashed this damn thing out, are you?” he challenged.
“No, I’m not,” she agreed, a smile twitching her lips.
He rolled his eyes. “Well, get on with it, give me the scoop. Then you can legitimately go home and tell your boss that you did all you could to get me to accept the inheritance and that I refused. There, satisfied?” He quirked a cynical brow at her, his eyes never leaving her face.
“As I’m the boss, that won’t be necessary,” she retorted, eyeing the documents before her. “Now, as things stand at present, you have been declared undisputed heir to the Carstairs holdings. One of the provisos of the bequest is that you attend a meeting at Rowena’s house in Miami.”
“Which, since I’m refusing the lot, won’t be necessary,” he responded smoothly, leaning farther back in the armchair.
“Would you mind not interrupting until I’ve finished?” she shot back.
“Excuse me,” he said with exaggerated politeness.
“As I was saying, there are documents that must be signed and lodged in court. Then there’s the question of your sibling.”
“Sibling?” His hooded eyes shot up and he straightened. “What sibling?”
“You have a half sister.”
“Where in hell’s name did she come from?”
“Her name is Dallas Thornton. She’s nineteen years old and is the issue of your mother’s marriage to a man named Doug Thornton.”
“I see. Why didn’t the money go to her?”
“That, I’m afraid, is a mystery that has been bothering me ever since Rowena’s death. There seems to be no specific reason why Dallas should have been cut out of her will, but she was,” Meredith said, lifting the file. “Here, it might be easier if you took a look for yourself.”
Grant stayed quiet for a moment, then he leaned forward and reached for the file, taking it from her outstretched hand. His eyes skimmed rapidly over the contents.
“How can you be certain that I’m the rightful heir?” he asked finally. “There must be a number of Grant Gallaghers running about the world.”
“Because I’ve had it thoroughly checked out. About ten years ago, Rowena hired a private detective agency that traced all your adoption records. It’s all in there. There is no doubt. Of course, another DNA test would determine undisputable proof.”
“Another DNA test?” His eyes narrowed and Meredith felt her cheeks warming, cursing herself for the blunder. She’d found the detective’s idea of taking a hair off the shoulder of his jacket invasive, and had said so at the time.
“Do you mean to tell me that, unbeknownst to me, someone has tampered with my private effects and taken material with which to do a DNA test?” he asked in a menacing tone.
“Well, not exactly.”
“What do you mean, not exactly?” He rose and paced the room, body tense and taut. “Ms. Hunter, how dare anybody invade my privacy and mess with my stuff? Or didn’t you think I knew how a DNA test works?” He stopped next to the couch and loomed over her. “Next you’ll be saying you know what my damn blood type is. Or when I lost my virginity.”
“According to your birth records, it’s AB negative—just like your mother’s. Quite rare,” she observed mildly.
“My moth—God, that beats the lot. I suppose I’m meant to be grateful that I have that in common with her,” he added bitterly before glaring down at her. “You know you’ve got some nerve coming here, disrupting my life. As for Rowena, I don’t want her damn money and neither do I wish to acquire a herd of bloody relations.”
“But Dallas is your sister.”
“Good for her. I’ll bet she has as much desire to meet me as I do her. That is, if you’ve told her about me?” he asked shrewdly.
“I have. Dallas is expected to be present at the Miami meeting.”
“I thought I’d already made it clear that I’ve no intention of attending any meeting,” he said harshly. “Who does that woman think she is—was, rather, manipulating people like pawns on a chessboard? She must have been raving mad to want to leave her money to me. She had no idea who I was or what I’d turned into. And she obviously cared even less.”
“She clearly had some notion of who you were, since she compiled a file with ten years of data about you,” Meredith reminded him bluntly, thinking privately that had Rowena actually met this boor, she might very well have made other provisions.
Scowling, he handed her back the file. “This is like a bad B movie.” He sat down again. Then, mercurial as ever, his expression changed and he proceeded in a conversational manner, “By the way, just out of interest, why was I put up for adoption? Did my mother get knocked up by some worthless boyfriend?” The tone was blasé but Meredith caught the edge in his voice. Although he put on a good show, it was just possible that beneath his harsh front, Grant Gallagher was coping with deeper emotions he was determined to conceal.
“I don’t know, I’m afraid.”
“Well, neither do I, and, frankly, I don’t care. I had parents—for what they were worth. And now I’m my own man. So let’s forget the whole thing. You pack your papers up, go back to Savannah, and I’ll get on with my life. If you need a release, send me the documents and I’ll return them to you duly signed and sealed.”
“It’s not quite as simple as that,” she demurred, standing her ground.
“Why not? I don’t want her money. Give it to somebody who does, for Christ’s sake. I’ll bet there are dozens of relatives lining up for that
