Seduction Of The Reluctant Bride. Barbara McCauley
and asked where Sam was. She’d had a predatory look in her eyes, too. No wonder the man had a swelled head.
Forcing her mind back to the issue, Faith moved to the desk in the corner. Under a white tablecloth sat what appeared to be a computer—the only incongruous article in the modest room. She pulled the dusty cloth off the large monitor and turned to grin at Sam. “My, my. What have we here?”
The computer, and a monitor, were top-of-the-line, stateof-the-art equipment. A laser printer—color, no less—and also first-class, sat beside the computer. Sam’s eyebrows lifted and the surprise in his eyes gave Faith a certain sense of satisfaction. “There’s a fax, too,” she said somewhat smugly. “Now what do you think an old silver miner would want with all this equipment?”
“Games?” Sam rose and moved closer, peering down at the computer as if it were an alien spaceship.
“War games, maybe.” She pulled a pair of glasses out of her purse, slipped them on, then flipped on the computer and monitor. “This baby could launch a missile.”
The computer hummed and the monitor flashed a soft amber light. She entered her password, then pulled up the file labeled EJCORP. Sam stood behind her, watching as she pulled up file after file, accounts with suppliers, stats on the eastern chain of restaurants, profit-and-loss statements on the division that handled the frozen food division.
“This is the main office,” she explained, pulling up the Boston file. “Mr. Montgomery—Digger—had the entire company at his fingertips here.” She laughed softly. “I’d always imagined a large, elegant office somewhere, surrounded by rich woods, lush carpeting and silver paperweights.”
Frowning, Sam picked up a baseball-sized chunk of granite sitting on top of several thick manila file folders and stared at it. “Looks like he had a lot of people imagining wrong.”
She glanced up at him over her shoulder. She’d been so immersed in pulling up the files that she hadn’t realized how close he’d moved in behind her, that one hand rested on the back of her chair, brushing her shoulder. She forced herself to ignore the jolt of heat that shot through her body. “So you finally believe me?”
He shrugged, setting the rock back on the desk. “I’m not sure what I believe. I’ve known Digger Jones my entire life. As far back as I can remember he’s been mining silver, frying burgers and grilling steaks. Nobody could cook like that man. He makes—made—an apple cobbler that made you want to cry, it was so good. The only other cobbler I ever had that even came close was at—”
He stopped and Faith twisted around to face him, her lips slowly turning up at the corners. They said it at the same time. “Elijah Jane.”
Could it be? Digger Jones, hardened, crusty old miner and café owner, owner of a multimillion-dollar business?
Sam sat on the edge of the desk and dragged his hands through his hair. This was too incredible. Impossible. Sam looked up at Faith, who was watching him with a touch of amusement in her eyes. He thought her glasses made her look adorable.
“His apple cobbler was how it got started, actually. Almost thirty years ago.” She pressed one slender fingertip on a button and only the amber light remained on the screen. “Rumor had it Digger had a cousin in Boston, Leo Jenuski, who wanted to open a sandwich shop in the business district. Leo talked Digger into loaning him the money, then skipped out three months after he opened his doors. It was either forget the money, or come in and make it successful himself. Within six months, the shop was packed from opening to closing, with customers arguing over Digger’s apple cobbler.”
“Well, that much hasn’t changed.” He wondered if she had any idea how her eyes softened and voice deepened when she talked about Elijah Jane. Or how damn appealing he found it. “There’ve been fistfights at the Hungry Bear over that cobbler. I think I even started one or two.”
“Our competition would kill for that recipe. They’ve tried to infiltrate several times.” Intent, she leaned forward and whispered, “I’m one of only three people who know the entire recipe.”
He had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat at her closeness. Several strands of pale blond hair curled around her delicate face, and her soft blue eyes shone with mystery. He leaned in, nearly brushed his lips against her. “God, women in power really turn me on.”
“Jerk.” She pushed on his chest and shoved him back. When she started to stand, he laughed and took hold of her arms.
“Lighten up, Faith. I’m teasing. Now finish telling me what happened in Boston with Digger.”
With a sigh, she settled back, her demeanor subdued. “He left one day, supposedly on a trip to Texas. But he never came back. He gave all his recipes to Parnell Grayson, his manager, and told him to run the shop. Parnell was a brilliant businessman. Before long there were several sandwich shops, all successful. Then one year later, the first Elijah Jane Restaurant. Digger held onto ownership, managed the financial end from Texas, worked out new recipes and items for the menus, but he also gave Parnell exclusive control. The rest, as they say, is history.”
It was possible. He’d only been a kid at the time, but Sam remembered some talk about Digger living in Boston for a few months. “What happens now, with Digger gone?”
Faith shook her head. “No one really knows. Parnell is retiring as president, the board is in an upheaval and all new projects are being shelved for the time being. Until Digger’s death is official and his will is read, everything is on hold.”
“So the wolves are all waiting to see how Digger’s millions get split up,” he said tightly. “How much do you expect to get, Miss Courtland?”
“There’s a lot more at stake here than money, Mr. McCants.” Fire sparked in her cool blue eyes. “I’ve worked at Elijah Jane since I was sixteen. Weekends, nights, summer vacations. After I graduated, sixty-hour weeks were short hours for me. I’m the one who started the frozen food line, who brought advertising to TV, who personally opened ten restaurants in three states.”
Sam raised a brow. “You’re an ambitious woman, Faith. Or should I say Madam President?”
Her cheeks turned pink and that cute little chin of hers lifted. “I’ve worked for it, I was next in line. But only Digger had the power to appoint a new president. If the board votes, my chances are somewhere between slim and none.”
“If you’ve worked as hard as you say, earned the position, why wouldn’t they vote you in?”
The look she gave him was indulgent, and more than a little patronizing. “In case you haven’t noticed, and I do believe you have, I’m a woman, and I’m young. Even on a ranch, I’m sure that would be a disadvantage.”
Not for what he had in mind, Sam thought, but was smart enough to keep that thought to himself.
She was holding something back, playing some kind of game here. He was certain of it. He accepted that she thought him a country bumpkin, a cowboy who thought the term stock meant cattle and marketing meant buying groceries. He didn’t much give a damn what Faith Courtland thought about his business acumen, but he sure as hell didn’t like being made to look like a fool.
“None of this really answers why you’re here,” he said evenly. “Wills are legal documents. It would have made more sense if one of Elijah Jane’s lawyers had met with me. So tell me what made you, a busy woman with a lot of responsibility, decide to come all the way out here?”
She stared at the computer for a long moment, then sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Without a body, Digger can’t be declared legally dead until the State approves the petition. The company will be in chaos, the board will battle for control, stock prices will plummet. I intend to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Evening had veiled the room in near darkness now. The light from the computer screen cast a golden glow on Faith’s soft features. Sam could see the exhaustion in her eyes, but there was an underlying determination. “And just how do you intend to do that, Miss Courtland?”