True Colors. Diana Palmer
and as the tiny infant was placed in his arms, tears fell from his eyes.
It was only later that she discovered Henry was sterile, that he could never have a child of his own. It was why he was single at the age of thirty-eight—why he’d never asked anyone to marry him until Meredith came along. But fatherhood seemed to come naturally to him, and he treated Blake as if the infant were his own blood child.
In all the months they’d waited for Blake, he’d never touched Meredith. She wouldn’t have refused him. He was kinder to her than anyone had ever been. He worshiped her, and slowly she began to return his warm affection, to look forward to their time together.
Then, almost inevitably, he came to her one night. It was as if there had never been a woman, he told her softly while he loved her. And while it wasn’t the intense passion she’d shared with Cy, it wasn’t at all unpleasant. Because Henry loved her, she was able to indulge him. He was a tender, expert lover, and she felt no revulsion at being touched by him. And if he ever suspected that, with her eyes closed, she sometimes thought of Cy as she gave herself to him, he never said so. They were compatible. They got along well together, with mutual respect and affection, and Blake was their world.
It had all fallen apart the day Henry left on a business trip and his plane crashed into the Atlantic. Meredith had felt something with him the night before that she hadn’t experienced in their marriage. A merging, a oneness, that left her sobbing in his arms afterward. For the first time, she’d curled into his body and refused to let go. She was glad about that, when the news came. She’d finally told him that she loved him. If he’d lived…
She sat at the funeral with anguish in her eyes, and even her brother-in-law, Don, who’d been so distant with her, softened as he realized how genuine her grief was.
Henry was gone. But he’d been a good tutor, and Meredith had been an excellent student. She didn’t stop learning after he died and left her with control of the domestic operation. Possessed already of a keen, intuitive mind, she found the give and take of negotiating right up her alley. In her first month, she astounded the corporate directors with her ability to size up a potential acquisition and land it with a minimum of fuss. Despite their initial desire to kick her out, the directors became her greatest fans—to the chagrin of Henry’s brother, who was secretly nurturing a jealous resentment of Meredith’s power that grew by the day.
Unaware of that resentment, Meredith barreled through business like a velvet bulldozer. She was enjoying power for the first time in her life and loving her job as mother to Blake. All the while, as Meredith grew in strength, she never stopped thinking about Cy Harden and his venomous mother. Don had been right about one thing. Her interest in Harden Properties went far beyond mineral rights acquisitions. She wanted to back Cy into a corner and cut him to ribbons, while his arrogant mother stood by helplessly and watched. She wanted Myrna Harden to suffer along with her son. Meredith was so far gone with regard to the Hardens that revenge was the only thing that registered. Whether Don liked it or not—and of course, he didn’t—she wasn’t leaving Billings until she had the Hardens on their knees, no matter what it took to get them there.
She got up and dressed, taking time to pour herself a cup of coffee before she left the house. Mrs. Dade didn’t like her employees having breakfast on her time. She was a good boss, and a fair one, for all that.
The phone rang and Meredith yawned lazily as she answered it.
“Good, you’re home,” Mr. Smith said. “Don had me fly out with those Jordan papers for your signature. He said express mail was too slow. I’ll be with you in five minutes.”
“All right.” She hung up, surprised. It wasn’t like Don to send the corporate jet just for some routine papers. Perhaps the merger was more complicated than she’d realized.
She met Mr. Smith at the door with a cup of strong black coffee. He grinned as he took it.
“Here.” He handed her the papers, then produced in short order her computer and printer, the fax machine, and boxes of paper. Meredith had him put them in the library, which she then locked.
“Now, I’ve no excuse not to work.” She laughed, having only just realized how free she’d been until that dreaded equipment arrived. “How’s Blake?” she asked.
“Fine. I left him with Perlie just for the morning. I’ll be back before he misses me. I brought you this, too.” He handed her a case of fresh orange juice. “You’ll need plenty of vitamin C to help you build back up.”
She laughed. “Well, I guess this qualifies as necessary equipment.”
“Essential, if you’re going to live in Billings for a while.” He sipped coffee while she signed documents. “Heard from Harden?”
“Not today. He and his mother had dinner at the restaurant last night.”
“How’s it going?” he asked.
She glanced at him ruefully. “It’s painful. But I expect the end result will be worth it.”
His green eyes narrowed as they scanned her face. “Don’t get caught again. Mr. Tennison wouldn’t like having you hurt twice.”
She smiled at him, remembering how Henry had cosseted her. Mr. Smith did, too. It was almost like having Henry back again when Mr. Smith was around. “You’re good to me, Mr. Smith,” she said.
He looked uncomfortable and averted his eyes. “No trouble to be good to someone like you. Sign those papers, please, so I can get out of here. Your brother-in-law was impatient to get the merger finished.”
“So I see.” She took her time reading the documents, suspicious at Don’s eagerness. But the papers were just routine, no surprises. She didn’t understand why it was so urgent. Then it occurred to her that Don was literally taking the merger out of her hands, and it all made sense. He was showing her up.
“You look worried,” Mr. Smith remarked.
She shrugged as she handed the papers back. “I never credited Don with one-upmanship.”
“Competition runs in the Tennison clan.”
“Yes. Funny that I didn’t realize it before, isn’t it?”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” he replied noncommittally. “Don’t sweat it. Maybe the boss is just trying to give you a hand. God knows you could use one sometimes. You push yourself too hard.”
“Do I?” she mused.
“Too many long hours, too much time on the run. You’re several pounds light.”
She grinned. “Send me down to the gym and build me up, then.”
“Wish I could. Can’t keep you still long enough.” He went to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “Watch your back. It gets dangerous up in the high altitudes.”
“I have noticed that,” she agreed.
Mr. Smith opened the door and walked out onto the porch, idly noting a car that hesitated as it passed the house. Nosy neighbors, he thought mockingly, motioning to the cabdriver.
“I’ll phone you tonight,” she said. “Tell Blake I love him.”
“He knows that.”
“It never hurts to tell him, all the same.”
He grinned and got into the cab. “Okay.”
Meredith watched the cab drive away. Mr. Smith was like family. When he was gone, she was alone again. Just like old times, she thought as she turned back into the house.
The knock on the door ten minutes later startled her. Perhaps Mr. Smith had forgotten something, she thought as she went to answer it.
Meredith opened the door to an unexpected visitor. Myrna Harden stood rigidly on her doorstep, dressed in black, her thin, pinched face hard with contempt and repugnance.
“I’ve been expecting you,”