his mouth flattened even more. “All these stores you inherited from that rich husband of yours aren’t doing very well.” He finished the last of the chocolates he’d pilfered, then dusted off his hands. The look he gave her was smug and insinuating. Remembering the past, it was all she could do to keep from flying at him and flailing him with both fists. She hated him that much.
“Is there a point to this?” she asked stiffly. She wanted nothing more than to get him out before there was a scene and before Chase discovered him there.
“If you’ll let me get to it.” Briefly Russell’s voice held the old autocratic edge she detested, then it dropped even lower, so it was slick and soft and totally insincere. “I can help you, Hope,” he said guilelessly, moving two steps nearer.
The smell of his cologne, even at a distance, made her ill, and it was all she could do to swallow the bile rising in her throat.
“I know you need it,” Russell continued. “That’s why I’ve come.”
Even if the past hadn’t stood between them, there was no way she would have ever let anyone as selfish and remorseless as he anywhere near her beloved Barrister’s.
“I don’t think so,” she corrected archly.
Her skin crawling because of his nearness, she turned and moved purposefully to the door. She had to get him out of her office before the loathing she felt inside got the better of her. What had happened in the past was horrible but it was over, she schooled herself firmly. She had to make sure it stayed that way, for all their sakes. She yanked open the door and waved him on his way.
He stayed where he was, as arrogant and presumptuous as ever. “That’s it? You’re going to dismiss me without even hearing me out?” he asked in disbelief, as if she were the one in the wrong. Straightening lazily, he moved toward her, one manicured hand held out beseechingly.
As the distance between them narrowed, her stomach lurched again. Working hard to hide the insistent trembling of her hands, she gave him a look that spoke volumes about the way she felt. And would always feel. “I see no reason to waste our time.”
“I run Morris Fabrics now—”
“I’m well aware of all you have inherited.” The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach increased. He’d inherited the power, the wealth, and the complete and utter lack of scruples.
“And?”
Her chin high, she said, “I have no desire to do business with your family firm, now or at any time in the future.” She wanted to make that very clear.
Russell’s expression turned ugly. “You’re making a mistake,” he warned, his eyes flashing in anger. “I could have cut you quite a deal.”
The only thing she wanted from him was to be left alone. Pasting an official smile on her face, she stalked out, and on her way, asked the nearest security guard to please escort Mr. Morris to his car and see that he got off all right. As always, Russell knew when to cut his losses and move on to greener pastures. He said nothing more, save a falsely cordial public farewell.
“So how was it?” an excited Leigh Olney asked when she saw Hope again an hour later. At Hope’s blank look, Leigh elaborated, “Your reunion with your old high-school buddy? Russell Morris said the two of you hadn’t seen one another in years.”
Hope wished fervently it had stayed that way.
Leigh continued with cheerful candor, “He figured you’d be really surprised, and I guess you were.”
Stunned and heartsick was more like it, Hope thought. Gathering her wits, Hope said, “To tell you the truth, Leigh, we weren’t that close back then. He’s just down on his luck right now. And I can’t help him. That being the case, I’d prefer not to see him again.”
Leigh looked crushed. “I’m sorry, Hope. The guy led me to believe—I mean he’s the heir to Morris Fabrics and all and you’re running this place—I just naturally thought—”
“I know you did, and it’s okay.” Hope knew how charming Russell could be when he put his mind to it. She sighed, “Mr. Morris has a way of implying closeness where none exists.”
Leigh nodded, understanding that much very well. It was clear from the look on her face that nothing more needed to be said. “Listen, about the meeting this morning. I want you to know I’m behind you all the way.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need every bit of help I can get,” Hope said. Especially since neither Chase nor Rosemary was in her corner, she thought.
Unfortunately Hope’s day didn’t get any better. One by one, buyers came in to express their concerns about the new direction she had charted for Barrister’s and the security of their jobs. She felt exhausted and depressed while she was driving home, but began to relax when she entered the house and caught a whiff of Carmelita’s delicious lemon chicken.
After a long, hot soak in the tub and a glass of wine, she’d be able to forget all about her horrendous day and Russell Morris. By the time Joey arrived home from Little League practice, all would be back to normal. Or as close as it could be, with Chase living in the guest house out back, she amended wryly.
Unfortunately, Hope hadn’t gotten any further than kicking off her heels and putting down her briefcase when the front door banged open and Joey came running in, his head ducked down in shame. Tears streamed down his face. “My God, what happened?” she cried, looking at the swelling bruise that seemed to cover most of his upper cheek and all of his left eye. Where were his glasses?
He tried to shrug it off and escape further maternal scrutiny. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing!” Hope cried. She stepped in front of him, latched on to his arm and gently but firmly prevented his escape to his bedroom.
Carmelita gasped as she joined them. In her mid-thirties, the slim housekeeper had lived with them since Joey was born. As emotional as she was kind, the devoted employee loved Joey almost as fiercely as Hope did. “Oh, no, Joey,” Carmelita said, wringing her hands.
“This looks wicked,” Hope said seriously. She started for the telephone. “I’m calling the doctor.”
“Mom, no—” Joey dashed after her and grabbed her sleeve. “Don’t—”
Looking more panic-stricken than ever, Carmelita said, “I’ll get Mr. Chase. He’s a doctor. He will know what to do.” Not waiting for Hope’s permission, Carmelita took off at a run.
Realizing what a big deal was going to be made out of this, Joey swore, using language a flabbergasted Hope had never heard coming from his mouth. That mouth, now that she looked at it, seemed a little swollen, too. And there was a tear in the sleeve of his T-shirt. Slowly she put down the phone. She still intended to call the doctor if necessary, but later, when she had a bit more information. Hands on her hips, she faced her young son. “What happened to you?”
His lower lip shot out in mutiny. “I got in a fight, okay?” he said rebelliously.
This was a first and completely unlike Joey. She faced him incredulously, bending her knees slightly until she and Joey were at eye level. “Why?” It didn’t take a genius to realize Joey didn’t want to say, which made her all the more anxious.
“What’s
