Copyright
Abby Hartmann liked her job most days. Being a small-town lawyer included more good weeks than bad. But on this particular Saturday morning—the dreaded once-a-month half day—things were definitely looking up. With her palms damp and her heartbeat fluttering, she smoothed her skirt and waved a hand toward the wingbacked chair opposite her large cherry desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Stewart.”
She straightened a few papers and folders, and took a deep breath. The man whose sheer presence shrank the square footage of her office was a commanding figure. Close-cropped dark brown hair. Deep chocolate eyes. A lean, athletic body. And a stillness about him. An intensity. As if at any moment he could leap across the small space separating them, grab her up and kiss her witless. He seemed almost dangerous, which made no sense at all. Maybe it was the quivering physical awareness making her restless.
Her reaction was disconcerting. Just because the guy had a sexy Scottish accent and a seriously hot body was no reason to lose her composure. Besides, no matter how attractive, the Scotsman embodied the rich, entitled male arrogance that set her teeth on edge. She’d met dozens like him, albeit not Scottish. Men who took what they wanted and didn’t mind who they left behind in the dust.
Duncan Stewart seemed uncomfortable as well, but perhaps for a different reason. “I’m not sure why I’m here,” he said. “My grandmother likes to be mysterious at times.”
Abby managed a smile, though she was entirely off her game. “Isobel Stewart is an original, that’s for sure. It’s no big secret. She’s updated her will and wanted me to go over it with you. Do you mind my asking why you’ve decided to relocate from Scotland to North Carolina?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’d have thought that was obvious. Granny is well past ninety. Grandda has been gone almost a year now. You know my brother, Brody, has a new wife and baby, and they’ve moved back to Skye.”
“I had heard that. Your sister-in-law owned the bookstore down the street, Dog-Eared Pages—right?”
“Aye. Since none of us have been successful in persuading Granny to sell out and leave Candlewick, somebody has to be here to look after her.”
“That’s astonishingly generous on your part, Mr. Stewart. Not many men I know, young or old, would put their lives on hold for their grandmothers.”
* * *
Duncan couldn’t decide if the odd note in the lawyer’s voice was admiration or sarcasm. “I didn’t really have a choice,” he said. His reluctance to play a part in this drama shamed him. Still, he was going to do the right thing. It didn’t mean he was comfortable with the lawyer’s praise. The woman sitting across the desk from him seemed harmless, but he would be in no rush to trust her. He didn’t have a very high opinion of solicitors in general, or of the entire legal profession for that matter. He’d seen too much nastiness during his parents’ divorce.
Abby Hartmann stared at him. “Everyone has choices, Mr. Stewart. In some instances, I might think you were in it for the money, but your grandmother has told me more than I ever needed to know about you and your brother. I’m aware that you’re extremely comfortable financially with or without your share in Stewart Properties.”
Duncan winced. “I’m guessing she also told you our father isn’t getting a dime, and she made it sound like a big deal.”
Abby gave him a small smile and nodded. “She might have mentioned it in passing. I Googled him. Your dad has a dozen thriving art galleries all over Great Britain, right? I doubt he cares about his mother’s money.”
“He and Granny have a complicated relationship. It works best when they both live on different continents.”
The lawyer grimaced, her face shadowed for a moment. “I can certainly understand that.”
Though Duncan had not wanted to come here today, he found himself willing to prolong the conversation for no other reason than to enjoy the lawyer’s company. He’d been expecting a middle-aged
