you know what this woman has done now?” Rosemary demanded of her son. She pointed an accusatory finger at Hope.
Looking dismayed, Chase shut the door behind them.
Rosemary continued vehemently, “She turned down the chance of a lifetime for silly personal reasons!”
Hope put her briefcase down and moved behind her desk. Although it was barely nine, she could feel the beginnings of a monstrous tension headache. It made her just want to go home and crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head. “What are you talking about?” she asked Rosemary wearily, wishing Edmond’s ex had just stayed in Monte Carlo, where she belonged.
“Russell Morris.” Rosemary uttered the name in vindictive triumph, then turned to Chase. Hope’s heart stopped and the blood drained from her face. “He had a wonderful proposition for Barrister’s,” Rosemary continued spitefully, “and Hope wouldn’t even hear him out.”
No emotion readily apparent on his face, Chase looked at Hope for confirmation.
She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t very well tell Chase that she hated Russell without revealing why. She couldn’t do that without hurting herself even more. Her stomach lurching, she struggled for an excuse. “He didn’t have an appointment.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Russell Morris owns one of the largest textile companies in the entire South! He doesn’t need an appointment,” Rosemary said.
Hope worked hard to keep her panic hidden. He couldn’t hurt her anymore, she schooled herself firmly. Keeping an iron grip on her soaring emotions, she informed Rosemary coolly, “If Mr. Morris wants to meet with me, he does.”
Rosemary smiled triumphantly then twisted the knife. “Russell’s not having an appointment isn’t the issue and you know it,” she sneered. “You just didn’t want to meet with him because of your thwarted romantic past with the man.”
Feeling her legs begin to buckle, Hope put a steadying hand on her desk. Rosemary was wearing an abundance of perfume, and the cloying, heavy smell was making her feel even sicker. “What romantic past?” Hope asked in the most even voice she could manage. If Russell had so much as hinted to Rosemary what had happened, it would be disastrous. Cutting off her deeply troubled thoughts, she demanded, “What did he tell you?”
Rosemary smiled. “That your family used to tenant-farm cotton on Morris land when you were a teenager, and that you had a crush on him he didn’t return.” She lifted her narrow shoulders in an eloquent shrug. “Obviously you’re still holding his good sense against him!”
“Mother!” Chase began, his tone warning her to back off. He looked as if he had heard quite enough, and more importantly still, didn’t appreciate Rosemary’s attempts to assassinate Hope’s character. “What happened then,” Chase continued firmly, “has absolutely no bearing on our company problems now.”
“I think it does,” Rosemary countered smugly, whisking an imaginary piece of lint from the emerald-and-onyx broach she had pinned to the lapel of her Coco Chanel suit. “Hope’s refusal to even listen to Russell proves once and for all she is just not capable of running a complex operation like Barrister’s.”
Chase turned to Hope. He was wearing a stone-colored Armani jacket and pants over a long-sleeved raglan polo, in smoky gray. Loose and unstructured, the softly draped suit flattered the sinewy contours of his tall physique and gave him a breathtakingly understated look. His eyes weren’t calm but when he looked at her, they rarely were, and the complex welter of emotions in them was impossible to decipher. She knew he was acutely interested in her and all that was going on. Maybe he was even slightly protective of her with Rosemary on the scene, but that was all she knew. It was all she could allow herself to know, Hope told herself as her stomach muscles tightened.
“Were you unfair to him?” Chase asked.
Considering what Russell Morris had done to her and the way he had ruined her life? “I don’t think so, no,” Hope answered stiffly.
Chase slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers. His posture was both controlled and lazy as he leaned insouciantly against the other side of her desk. She suppressed the urge to swallow nervously as his hazel eyes fastened on hers and held.
“What did he want?” His voice was casual. Too casual.
Hope really wasn’t sure. She wasn’t naive enough to think Russell Morris would have appeared in her life again without an ulterior motive. Russell Morris and his family did everything with an ulterior motive. She’d found that out the hard way. But not about to reveal that to Chase and risk further questioning, she moved her shoulders and said evasively, “I don’t know. We never got that far.”
Chase lifted his brow, making Hope feel all the more embarrassed and strangely inept. It was not as if by letting the store down, she had let Chase down, too. And that was silly because she knew he had never cared much about Barrister’s. If he had he would’ve taken the job as company president, as his father had wanted. Nevertheless, it was humiliating to stand there and let Rosemary put her down in front of Chase. More than anyone, she wanted him to respect her, as a person and a businesswoman. It was clear from the quizzical look on his face he was no longer sure he could do so.
“You see?” Rosemary cut in, taking advantage of her son’s shock to press her point. “She wouldn’t even listen to him. If Russell hadn’t had the moxie to come to me with his proposition, Barrister’s might have lost out entirely on what could prove to be a very lucrative arrangement for both our firms.”
“Which is?” Chase prodded dryly. Like Hope, he seemed to sense that there had to be a catch somewhere.
“He wants to manufacture an exclusive line of linens and draperies for the Barrister’s label. The profit margin would be very high, for both of us.” Rosemary’s eyes sparkled greedily. “All we’d have to do is put up the capital—”
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