dollar estate. Her features hardened. Her eyes went wide, conveying fury and shock. “Are you out of your—”
“No, Mrs. Stuben,” he interrupted. “I don’t intend to—loot—your body, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Elaine’s cheeks burned with humiliation at his accurate guess about the indecent conclusion she’d jumped to. He pursed his lips as though to hide a smirk. She could almost hear him thinking, Why, Elaine Stuben, what a dirty mind you have behind that dirty face!
“Please explain exactly what you mean, Mr. Rath,” Claire said, fluttering like a protective, though ineffectual, mother hen before the Big Bad Wolf.
Elaine heard her aunt’s question, but couldn’t take her eyes off Mitchell Rath, looming there, blocking her escape. Dark eyes glinted. His chiseled features held sensuous sway over her, and she couldn’t seem to move.
How could she despise this man, yet be incapable of pulling her gaze from his? Rakish good looks were no excuse for surrendering one’s principles! She grappled with her self-control and her good sense. “Yes,” she finally managed, her voice raspy. “What exactly do you mean? What offer?”
He lounged against the door frame, one hand clasping the jamb near her. He looked so cool and unflappable, yet somewhere beneath that surface she sensed a restive energy. Though his expression, his body language, were the epitome of cold, calculating reserve, under the surface he was generating enough erotic heat to melt the polar ice caps. Against her will and better judgment this strange incompatibility and inconsistency in his character drew her, intrigued her.
Looking into those eyes she was once again struck by his deliberate isolation, his don’t-get-too-close vibe. It was almost as though Mitchell Rath resented her. He resented her? She wanted to laugh out loud at that crazy notion. Obviously his nearness was affecting her like an electrical power station, causing interference, making her thinking processes go staticky.
“It’s simply this, Mrs. Stuben,” he said, breaking into her unsettled thoughts. “I want some face time with the great Paul Stuben. As his daughter-in-law, you have access and influence. Get me a meeting with the man and I might allow you to keep this house.”
“My—my heavens,” whispered Claire. “That’s quite a thing to say.”
Elaine agreed with her aunt’s astonished comment and stared at Mitchell Rath. This twist threw her for a loop. “A—a meeting?” she repeated, still attempting to assimilate his words.
He lifted his hand away from the door and crossed his arms before him. “It won’t be as simple as it sounds. I’ve tried to get a face-to-face with him for a month. The great leader of Stuben Department Stores refuses to take my calls.”
His offer was sinking in now and she shook her head. “Well, if it’s a meeting with Paul Stuben you’re after you don’t want my help. He hates me.” The recollection of her distraught father-in-law’s harsh accusations came rushing back. She slumped against the wall, dropping eye contact. “He blames me for Guy’s death.”
No sound came from Mitchell Rath. Elaine kept her gaze lowered, watching her hands clasp, unclasp and reclasp. Another stab of depression cut deep. She knew she was being ridiculous to take his charges to heart. She would never have wished Guy to die. But the very day she’d planned to tell him it was over…that very day he died. She couldn’t shake the sickening sense of responsibility.
“It’s true, Mr. Rath,” Claire softly filled the gap. “Guy died in a plane crash. He built the contraption from a kit, an experimental aircraft. Elaine only suggested he get a hobby. She had no idea he would pick anything so dangerous as—”
“He doesn’t need our life history, Aunt Claire.” Elaine reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet Mitch’s. To save her husband’s ancestral home would be something she’d do in a minute if she could, no matter how hard she had to work. But her father-in-law’s hatred, his crushing grief over Guy’s death, well, the division was too insurmountable, literally etched in stone—a gravestone. “I can’t be of help to you. Paul Stuben hasn’t spoken to me since Guy’s funeral.”
Mitchell Rath’s features hardened in a blatant declaration of his displeasure. “I see.” As he ingested this bitter pill his cheek muscles bunched, giving his square jawline dramatic impact.
Among the conflicting emotions Elaine experienced as she watched the display was a surge of satisfaction. Before her eyes the villain in the last, sad chapter in the death of her company was suffering a defeat. She imagined witnessing such a moment in Mitchell Rath’s life would be the privilege of only a handful of individuals, and should be cherished appropriately.
Her euphoria didn’t last more than a few heartbeats before Mr. Rath’s expression changed.
With the suddenness of a slap, Elaine found herself confronted by a smile, so sexy, dazzling—and scheming—she shivered with downright dread.
CHAPTER THREE
“YOU may not be one of his favorite people, Mrs. Stuben,” he said. “But you have access. For instance his country club? Isn’t that right?”
“I suppose, as a member of the fam—”
“And you get invitations to the same parties and charity events?”
“Well, yes, from time to—”
“And, you do want to keep this fine old home, so you don’t have to move?”
She could never stay here now. After all, had Guy lived, she would have been long gone. She could never think of this mansion as hers. But she would love to see the place stay in the Stuben family. If she could save the estate to help make amends to Paul Stuben—well, she’d give anything to do that.
But Mr. Rath didn’t need to know the details. He would just interrupt with another argument before she could explain, anyway, so she nodded, remaining mute.
“Then you can be of help to both of us.”
“Lainey,” Claire interjected. “It can’t hurt to try, can it?”
Elaine flicked her gaze to Claire then back to Mitchell Rath. She felt like he’d dropped her from a great height, leaving her dizzy and bruised. How could he continue to dangle the manor before her like a carrot in front of a hungry rabbit, demanding the impossible as though it were simple? Didn’t he get it? She shook her head as much to search for words this money grubbing tyrant would understand as to make her feelings plain. “Listen to me! Both of you! Paul Stuben hates me. He would no more listen to anything I had to say or trouble himself to meet anybody I was with than he would—kiss a rattlesnake!”
“Don’t be too sure,” Mitch said. “Word has it that he’s been doing some bizarre things lately.”
“What are you saying?”
“He’s making bad business decisions, acting eccentrically. Throwing fits at board meetings. Haven’t you heard the rumblings that he’s teetering on mental collapse, intent on bringing down his empire?”
Elaine could only stare in disbelief. “No…”
“Lainey hasn’t seen her father-in-law in months,” Claire said. “She has nothing
