Family Secrets. Ruth Dale Jean
off that easy.”
If he put his hands on her again she’d... God only knew what she’d do, but she wasn’t eager to find out. “Devin—”
“You can make amends for that dirty trick by thinking about what I said earlier—about your grandmother, I mean.” He gave up on the shirt and quit trying to hold it away from his back. “Think about this sensibly and maybe you can find it in your heart to... Sharlee, I know you love your grandparents. Don’t let—I don’t know what it is, stubborn pride, maybe? Some grudge I know nothing about? Whatever’s made you so bitter, don’t let it stand between you and doing the right thing.”
With every word he spoke, her mouth tightened until it felt like a grim hard line. “Dammit, Dev, that’s not fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” he said. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”
She had to get him out of here. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”
He let out a sigh. “Thanks. That’s all I ask. Call me in the morning? Here’s the number of my hotel.” He picked up his jacket and drew a business card from his pocket, dropping it on the card table.
She didn’t look at it. “All right.”
“Promise?”
“Yes! Now will you go?”
He went.
And as promised she thought... mostly about that kiss.
SHE CALLED HIM the next morning before leaving for work. He answered the phone sounding alert, even eager.
“Mornin’, chère. Nice of you to call.”
She wasn’t interested in idle chitchat. “About what you asked me to think about last night—”
“Tell me at breakfast,” he cut in quickly. “I saw a great-looking place between here and your apartment. I thought maybe we could—”
“We can’t!” She steadied herself. “Devin, my answer is no. N-o, no. Tell Grandmère I’m sorry, but it’s just impossible.”
“Now wait a minute—”
“No, you wait a minute. There’s no need for you to stay in Colorado any longer because I’m not going to change my mind. Thanks for dinner and goodbye.”
She hung up the phone without letting him respond, then stood there trembling. She’d done the right thing, the only thing she could do. She never wanted to see him again and now she probably wouldn’t.
When she closed the door to her apartment, the telephone was ringing, but she simply didn’t care.
Or maybe she was afraid to care.
CHAPTER THREE
DEV CALLED ROOM SERVICE and ordered breakfast, figuring he should fortify himself before passing on the bad news to Sharlee’s grandmother. She was probably expecting just such a call. Anyone who knew how damned stubborn Sharlee was would be.
But as he showered and shaved, he found himself wondering why he was so annoyed when she’d done exactly what he’d expected her to do all along. Whatever had alienated her from her family—and he didn’t believe for a minute that it was simply a pileup of minor irritations—had truly wounded her.
As he had. He’d known she wouldn’t be happy when he sent her that note almost ten years ago, but what else had he been supposed to do? His back was to the wall as surely as hers was. He’d spent the next year trying to smooth things over, but she’d refused even to talk to him. Until yesterday, he’d never been close enough to try.
Apparently she no longer gave a damn. The memory of that icy cold drink down his back sent a shudder through him. He’d thought she was responding to the kiss the same way he was. For her to be able to do what she’d done...
He couldn’t resist a wry smile, though. She’d gotten the upper hand, all right. To a man who enjoyed a challenge, that wasn’t entirely bad.
His tray arrived and he poured himself a cup of coffee. While the bacon and eggs cooled, he carried the cup to the window and looked down on the Denver Tech Center.
Hell, he might as well get the call over with so he could pack and head for the airport. Somehow he felt he was leaving a lot of things unsettled between himself and Ms. Hollander, but it apparently couldn’t be helped.
He dialed Lyoncrest and wasn’t surprised when Margaret herself answered the phone.
“Devin!” she exclaimed, her tone filled with hope he was going to have to dash. “You’ve seen Charlotte? Say she’s coming home.”
“I’ve seen her, Tante Margaret,” he said, “but I’m afraid she has no interest whatsoever in coming home. I’m sorry.”
There was a long silence and then she sighed. “I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose, but I was so hoping...”
“At least she didn’t have me thrown out of Colorado,” he said, trying to cheer her. “We actually managed to get through dinner last night without too many tense moments.”
“You had dinner together?”
He heard her hope spark again and was sorry he’d fanned it. “Yes, but that’s all we had. She’s happy here and just doesn’t want to leave. I thought I might just as well call the airport and see what flight—”
“No, don’t do that.”
He frowned. “Beg pardon?”
“Please try again. Devin, you cannot take no for an answer.”
“I can’t very well kidnap her and throw her on the plane,” he reasoned. “She’s got a job, she’s got an apartment, she’s got a life here.”
“She’ll have a better life here,” Margaret said. “As for her job—it’s at some dinky little newspaper, I understand.”
“That’s right, the Calhoun Courier. She seems to love it.”
“Naturally she wants you to think so.” The steel returned to Margaret’s tone. “But she must come home. If she won’t quit her job, I’ll do whatever is necessary to change her mind, up to and including buying that newspaper myself and firing her.”
Dev sat down hard on a handy chair. “You’re kidding.”
“I don’t kid about family, dear.” She sounded completely confident again.
“You’d really do that—buy the newspaper and fire her?”
“For Paul, I would do that and more. Please go back and try again. Say anything, promise anything, and then tell me everything.”
Dev hung up, wondering where this was going to end—and when.
SHARLEE WAS IN NO GREAT MOOD when she got into the office, so it took her a while to catch on to the fact that something was up.
Everyone was treating her too nicely, including Eric, who came in late and rushed over to present her with two chocolate doughnuts and a big smile.
“So how’s it going?” he inquired, lingering.
“Fine,” she said. She nodded at the doughnuts on a paper towel. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion.” He licked his lips. “By the way, that really surprised us yesterday.”
“What did?”
“Oh—” he gazed at the ceiling “—nothing, if that’s how you want to play it...Ms. Lyon.”
So that was it; they’d figured it out. Everyone now knew that Sharlee Hollander was really a member of the famous Lyon family of New Orleans.