sat back down, surprised to find himself so oddly invigorated. Megan was disturbing.
Arguing with her, how to describe it? The thought that it had been better than some of the sex he’d ever had, and man had he had some sex, came into his mind. She was feisty, mind-blowing, difficult, temperamental, and yet she faced him down and went where most men would even fear to tread. Hmm.
She was an intriguing woman. No wonder men found her a siren. Maybe he should be her mentor just to spar with her again. It had been the most fun he’d had in several weeks.
He laughed at the foolishness of that idea as Peggy sent the call through.
Chapter Two
“Megan? Is that you?”
“It’s me.” Megan’s purse landed with a thump on the side table. She took a moment to calm herself down. The meeting with Harry still had her totally keyed up.
The look on his face! Never in her life had she wanted to slap someone as much as she had wanted to smack Harry Sanders. Heck, she’d have kissed him if it would have given her back the control she’d lost in that meeting.
Of course, kissing him…Control. Harry always made her so furious, mostly at herself for being so unprofessional and out of control.
She strode into the living room of the shotgun flat she shared with her mother down in the area of Saint Louis known as the Hill. Her mother, propped up by pillows, was watching the evening news. Megan leaned and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you feeling today?”
Barbara MacGregor smiled weakly. “Okay. Today is much better than yesterday,” she said. “I’m not as numb in my legs as I was.”
“Then that’s good news,” Megan said. She pushed the wheelchair aside and took a seat next to her mother. “Maybe the medicine is working.”
“I hope so,” Barbara said, her face clouding for a moment. Megan felt the familiar pang shoot through her. Her mother, the bravest woman she knew, did not deserve to have a primary-progressive case of multiple sclerosis. It had left Barbara needing a wheelchair most of the time. While her mother could still walk, her muscles were so weak that she used the wheelchair mostly to conserve precious energy.
“You just missed Bill. He brought me dinner before he went in to work.” Barbara mentioned her fiancé of the past year. “He’s tending bar tonight.”
Ironically, her mother’s fiancé, a wonderful retired gentleman with lots of spare time on his hands, worked for mad money at Henrietta’s, Jacobsen’s five-star, five-diamond restaurant.
Located only a few blocks away on Southwest Avenue, Bill often brought Barbara gourmet carryout dinners since she rarely left the house herself except for a doctor’s appointment. It was just too much effort to go anywhere besides the general area of her home.
“So how was work?”
If one forgot about Harry Sanders, it was, “Great,” Megan answered. “Mr. Jacobsen came by to tell me about a new program he’s launching in two weeks called Jacobsen Stars. He wants me to participate.”
“Honey! That’s fantastic! Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Megan replied as she told her mother about it, except of course, about Harry.
“I’m so proud of you,” her mother said. She moved her hand slowly and finally covered Megan’s. “You’re the best daughter I could have asked for.”
“Mom,” Megan said. Tears brimmed in Megan’s eyes and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying.
Barbara’s voice suddenly sounded weary. “You shouldn’t be having to take care of me, Megan. I’m only fifty. I should be fine.”
A lump lodged in Megan’s throat. She tried to lighten the moment. “Well, set a date with Bill and I’ll pass you off on him.”
Her mother’s features clouded. “You know I can’t do that. He’s been too terrific and I can’t take advantage of him. I’m thinking of calling off the engagement. He needs a woman who can get around, not one that is bedridden.”
“Mom! He loves you!”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.” A tear went down Barbara’s cheek. Megan reached for a tissue and wiped it away.
Her mother was referring to Megan’s father, who had dumped Barbara when she’d first been diagnosed with MS fifteen years ago. Barbara smiled brightly, as if the matter was concluded.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” her mother said. “There’s some dinner for you too. Bill even brought you some of that five-layer chocolate suicide cake you love so much.”
“He’s going to make me fat. I’ll split it with you,” Megan said. She rose to her feet. “In fact, I think I’ll go get it and eat it first.”
“You’re not fat,” Barbara called after her. “Girls who are five-foot-eight like you need a few pounds on them or they look too scrawny. But you are perfect. Any man would be thrilled to have you.”
Maybe, until they learned that her mother came with the package. Not many men wanted to date her after discovering her invalid mother lived with her.
Personally, though, after seeing how Bill loved her mother, Megan wanted no part of any shallow, superficial man either. So, in essence, she’d given up dating. Right now, working at Jacobsen Enterprises and supporting her mother were much more important priorities.
Megan went into the tiny kitchen and took the carryout container from the refrigerator. She lifted the lid, her mouth watering at the sight of five layers of chocolate cake with milk chocolate frosting sandwiched between each layer. A dark chocolate frosting, sprinkled with grated chocolate, covered the entire cake. Nestled in the corner of the white container was a small cup containing the special chocolate sauce.
As always, Henrietta’s chef had been more than generous with the portion. Megan took out a fork. Nothing like chocolate to make a girl feel better. She took a bite and walked back into the living room. Delicious.
“No offense, Mom, but you need to keep Bill just so we can keep getting this cake.”
“I guess he does have his uses.” Megan heard the love in her mom’s voice, meaning that Barbara’s early melancholy had lifted. She was one of the most up people Megan knew, but even her mother did get depressed occasionally. How she remained as chipper, after needing to sell her home and move in with her daughter, was beyond Megan. Her mother was her hero.
“So any idea who is to be your mentor?” her mother asked after Megan fed her a piece of cake.
Megan wished she could lie, but she’d never been able to, especially to her mother. “Harry Sanders.”
Barbara looked impressed. “The grandson?”
“One and the same.”
“You don’t sound so thrilled about it.”
“I’m
