skills and polish her younger sister lacked.
“We have a few things to discuss, Ian.”
He returned his attention to his father’s lawyer. “Get things started. If she hasn’t gotten back to you in a month, file the petition with the courts.”
“All right. Now, on to a different matter. Wesley paid child support to the mother. Am I to assume with both parties deceased, the arrangement is now terminated?”
Ian gave the question serious thought. He saw no purpose in antagonizing the woman until he knew precisely what she wanted. “No. Send the money to Shannon until she makes up her mind about the company.”
Jenkins cocked one eyebrow. “Shannon?”
“Miss Moore.”
“Be careful, Ian, or you might find yourself falling victim to the same weakness you despised in your father.”
Ian’s lips curved up in a sardonic smile. “There are two big differences. I’m not married and I stick to women born in the same decade as me.”
He closed the file and exhaled a groan. He would not allow the minor development of his attraction to Shannon steer him from his course of action. Westervelt Properties would be returned to his grandfather, no matter what he had to do to fulfill that promise.
Shannon tossed the folder and her keys on the hall table. The one-hour train ride from New York City had given her time to regroup before trying to deal with an energetic child. After checking her mail, she walked across the small front lawn to the house next door. A row of red tulips in the window box signaled the true arrival of spring. The aroma of baking bread lingered as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Oh, Betty Crocker. Where are you?”
“Just a sec.” A moment later Wendy Sommers strolled into the room. A mop of brown curls bounced to the spring in her step. “How was the meeting?”
Shannon rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension at the base of her neck. “More interesting than I had expected.”
Her friend held up a cup. “Coffee?”
“Please.” She dropped into a chair and rested her arms on the glass tabletop. “Chelsea’s brother was there.”
“And?” Wendy prodded.
“When I met Wesley Bradford, I thought no one could be more overbearing. Apparently arrogance is a dominant gene. He passed it on to Ian.”
“Ian seems to have made quite an impression on you.”
Shannon grimaced at Wendy’s inquisitive tone. He’d made an impression, all right. One she didn’t want to admit to, even to herself. “How was Chelsea?”
“She was great. But she missed her auntie Shane.”
“Did she?” she asked a bit uncertainly.
When Shannon had found herself the guardian of a toddler, she panicked. What she knew about children would fit on the head of a pin. To give Chelsea some semblance of a normal life she had returned to the small suburban town where she had spent her teenage years, armed with a library of parenting books.
Finding a high school classmate as her neighbor had eased her return. Wendy’s outgoing nature and blind acceptance of others’ imperfections gave Shannon her first real friend.
“What’s my little princess up to?” Shannon asked.
“She’s watching ‘Sesame Street’ with Anna.” Wendy placed a tray on the table and took a seat. “So tell me more about Mr. Bradford. If he’s Chelsea’s brother, does that make you his aunt?”
“Very funny. Actually, I was a little disappointed. I thought... well, never mind what I thought.” Taking a deep breath, Shannon pushed the troubling concerns from her mind. “He’s made it clear he plans to uphold that Bradford family tradition of ignoring Chelsea’s existence.”
Wendy stared thoughtfully, then let out a small giggle. “Why, Shannon Moore, you’re nothing more than a closet optimist. You figured he would learn about his sister and he’d be bursting with sibling love and pride.”
Hearing her delusional fantasies described like that, Shannon realized how naive she was. She took a sip of coffee and leaned back in the chair with a wistful sigh. “Maybe I did. But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it. I have a reputation to maintain in this town as a high-powered, no-nonsense barracuda.”
“But a barracuda who shows us how to invest our money. And we love you for it. Not to mention that you keep a lot of us employed.”
“Because I can’t do anything pertaining to house maintenance by myself.” Shannon blessed the education and the business connections that allowed her to continue serving her clients and still be at home for Chelsea. Otherwise the upkeep on a house would have been beyond her means. “And this mothering thing is a whole lot tougher than Donna Reed and June Cleaver made it out to be.”
“Suzy Homemaker, you ain’t,” Wendy agreed. “Give up those ridiculous books on raising children and follow your instincts. As long as love is there, you’ll do fine.”
Shannon sighed. Where her friend’s house smelled of potpourri and fresh-baked pies, she usually had to air out the odor of burned cookies. As for following her instincts, she had none. Her own parents’ self-serving emotional tugs-of-war had left her unprepared for the role of a supportive parent.
“I’m glad I wasn’t looking for a sympathetic shoulder.” She could only hope her friend was right and her love for the little girl who had taken up residence in her heart would be enough.
“Do you want me to lie to you?” Wendy asked.
“Please. I’ve had about as much of the truth as I can stand today.”
“Lord, Shannon. I’ve never known you to let any man rattle you. Even when we were back in high school.”
“I’m not rattled. I’m in complete control.”
If that were true, why had Ian been able to provoke her into losing her temper, something no man had ever done before? How had his stone-cold glare generated an unfamiliar heat in her? She couldn’t be attracted to the man.
Then why couldn’t she banish his image from her mind?
Two
Ian glanced around the office. The old cherrywood furniture he’d dragged up from storage returned the room to the way he remembered it from his childhood visits. No matter how much of the past he tried to recreate, one fact could not be denied. His grandfather was not yet the sole owner of Westervelt Properties again.
In the past few weeks Ian had prepared himself for an inevitable showdown with Shannon Moore. Actually, he had been looking forward to another meeting. Why hadn’t she contacted him or Jenkins? He didn’t believe she would walk away from the inheritance without a fight. At the very least, he figured she would take the money. The only thing he hadn’t expected was her silence.
After
