he were thinking it over. “I’m male, I’ve lived in this state for thirty-four years and I have a master’s degree in economics. I think that qualifies me to have an idea or two on how a Texan might spend his discretionary income. Don’t you reckon?”
Her heart raced. He was serious.
If she didn’t do something to end this farce, what was supposed to be a brief encounter would turn into a full-blown crisis. The owners of The Heritage, one of New York’s premier auction houses, were meeting in less than a week to discuss her future with the family-owned firm. Being a no-show would not bode well for the junior associate.
She turned to Wade Latimer. “Can we at least put this off for a few months? I have a job and an apartment in New York, and I’m expected back at work by the end of the week. I’m sure Mr. Kennesaw must have obligations, as well.”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” Sam drawled. “I’m between projects at the moment and the timing is perfect to start a new business venture.”
“In other words, you’re out of work and willing to jump on my grandmother’s generosity like a chicken on a june bug.” Tara surprised herself with how easily she slipped back into Southern colloquialism.
He smiled. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Her breath caught at the sight of his even white teeth. She recalled the boy whose bicuspids had been crowded and crooked. Clearly, he’d invested whatever money he’d earned in expensive orthodontia. It was worth it. His smile, even surrounded by the scruffy whiskers, was packed with appeal.
“Besides,” Sam continued, “your granny’s will says ‘effective immediately,’ and last time I checked that meant right this minute. I don’t have any intention of waitin’ a few months.”
“He’s correct, Tara.”
Incredulous, she swung around to the lawyer who continued to ruin her day.
“It was Miriam’s desire that you both remain in Beardsly to assume joint development of the Elliott Building. If Mr. Kennesaw is prepared to do so, I’m afraid you have no option other than full cooperation.”
Wade Latimer would not be her ally. If anything, he seemed to be goading her into accepting the challenge.
“Is there another office where I can have some privacy to use the phone?” Her mind churned over the growing list of details that would have to be handled right away. She seemed to have no choice but to submit to this bizarre arrangement in order to protect her grandmother’s beloved properties from destruction.
And how was Tara to interpret this twist of fate? Was it just her meddling grandmother or the hand of God on her life?
Latimer moved from behind his desk and gestured toward the door. “Of course, Miss Elliott. Come with me.” He nodded at Sam. “Excuse us, please.”
Sam watched the heavy door close after them with a solid thud. He pulled the envelope from beneath his arm and withdrew the document inside. A quick scan of the pages confirmed he was, for all intents and purposes, Tara Elliott’s new business partner.
Tara Elliott. She’d always be Rusty to him.
He’d admired the enchanting, bashful girl most of his life, but, at his mother’s insistence, always from afar. Stubborn as a child and strong-willed as a college student, Rusty had been the one to cross the line, with no concern for his precarious position.
A teaching assistant could hardly show romantic interest in a student and expect to remain on staff. But thanks to her spoiled-brat determination to have everything her way or no way at all, she’d destroyed his opportunity to finish his Ph.D. at Beardsly College. He had no proof, but he was certain the Elliott women were behind the turn of events that had suddenly eliminated his teaching position. And his livelihood.
It was a betrayal he’d never forgive.
Every day he thanked his lucky stars for his boyhood inclination to tear down and rebuild his bike when it broke down. In Houston he’d hit pay dirt with a marketable skill at motorcycle repair.
He glanced toward the papers clutched in his fist. As the shadow of an idea took shape, he grinned at his stained fingernails. Wouldn’t Tara cringe when he removed the Elliott Building’s back entrance to accommodate wide, overhead doors? And wouldn’t her flawless complexion bloom with red blotches when he knocked out the front wall to install showroom windows?
Persuading his business manager to oversee his organization in Houston while he moved back to Beardsly to pose as Miriam Elliott’s needy beneficiary was going to be a pain. But it would be worth it.
The day Tara Elliott had convinced her grandma to avenge a schoolgirl’s hurt feelings was the day his life had changed. Forever.
Dealing back a bitter taste of the rich girl’s medicine would be sweet revenge.
Chapter Two
The walnut armoire, one of Tara’s favorites, was an elegantly carved, Louis XIV cabinet with paneled doors and original nineteenth-century hardware. As a youngster she’d always suspected her grandmother’s furnishings were valuable. After earning a degree in art history and serving for several years as an appraiser’s apprentice, her suspicions were confirmed. Miriam Elliott had left behind a small fortune in antiques.
Tara’s hand slid across the cool, shining wood as she inhaled the pleasant, musky scent. Stacked on the shelves of the treasured piece were fragments of her childhood. Primitive artwork, English assignments, class photos and the remains of a shattered porcelain vase. Items that should have been thrown away years ago. She was grateful for the tender sentiments it revealed about her no-nonsense grandmother.
Their relationship had been turbulent since Tara’s show of independence had taken her to New York City following Sam’s departure from Beardsly. She deeply regretted confiding in her grandmother and couldn’t bear to stay in the town where Miriam Elliott’s influence had cost an innocent man his career.
At first, her grandmother had refused to support Tara’s desire to live so far from home. Once she proved able to make it on her own, financial help was offered to smooth the way. But she rejected any encroachment on her freedom.
Waiting tables seven days a week forced Tara out of her introverted shell. The work paid for a tiny sublet apartment and covered tuition for the remaining classes she needed at NYU. She embraced city life, shunning even brief visits to Beardsly. The two women talked often on the phone, but saw one another only during her grandmother’s trips to New York.
Tara stood before the open armoire, acknowledging that even in death, the wily old woman had left many messages before going to her grave. She had always had the last word. She’d hinted that a reunion for the young people was inevitable, but Tara hadn’t dreamed that Miriam would do something so outrageous.
After several hours of reading and rereading the papers, and finding no confusing legalese to dispute, Tara prayed for wisdom on how to meet the challenge. The choices were limited: dive into the project or lose the last of her family ties.
She considered giving it all to Sam. Her grandmother’s determination to ensure nothing developed between them had upended his conservatively mapped-out life. Maybe he deserved the remainder of Miriam’s property as compensation. Then Tara recalled his cavalier
