The Reluctant Heir. HelenKay Dimon
complicated story.”
“It always is.” Because there was nothing easy about the Jameson family.
“Does this mean you’re coming back with me?”
He looked far too satisfied with himself. That didn’t sit right with her at all. She had the sense that once Carter thought he’d won, he would become impossible.
“I didn’t say that.”
He smiled. “You kind of did.”
That look. His face. It was so handsome it bordered on annoying. “You leave and I’ll think about the offer.”
“Not exactly a people person, are you?”
Not the first time she’d heard that. She’d been tagged as the quiet sister. Not as pretty or outgoing or charismatic but steady. She got a little tired of playing the role of forgotten sister.
She’d grown up and grown apart from Gena. Hanna moved away and worked as an administrative assistant. Had a good job. Friends. A life. When Gena’s world came crashing down after Carter, she’d begged for help and Hanna came rushing in. She pushed aside the mix of jealousy and hurt that swamped her at the idea of Gena and Carter together when Gena had known all about the old crush. But she’d arrived too late to save her sister. Even now as she tried to rebuild her life and find a job to replace the one she’d lost, the guilt over not doing enough or the right thing still beat down on her every day.
He rocked back on his heels. “You do know I’m not getting anything out of this, right?”
No way did she believe that. “You poor thing.”
His gaze slipped back to the espresso machine. “I’d settle for something with caffeine in it.”
“You could open a bag and suck on a bean.”
He laughed and the rich, genuine sound washed over her. He moved and it mesmerized her. He spoke and her brain replayed every word.
“I would have been disappointed if you’d offered to make me coffee,” he said.
“I’m happy we understand each other.” She glanced at the clock and dread pummeled her. Employees would start showing up in about fifteen minutes and she still had to deal with that puddle on the floor. “I need to get back to work.”
“Here.” Without another word, Carter went over the counter and grabbed the mop. “I can take care of the spill.”
She would have been less surprised if he’d made a cup of coffee magically appear in his hand. “You’re going to clean something? You...?”
“I have skills.”
She could feel her mouth drop open and her eyes bulge. “With a mop?”
“I’m not my father, Hanna.”
The words shook her out of her stupor because she was starting to believe him. “That’s the only reason you’re still standing here.”
That and his eyes. And those impressive shoulders. That cool voice. Okay, she might have let him inside the shop to look at him for a while. She hadn’t expected him to offer a way for her to settle the past.
No, Carter Jameson was not what she expected at all. Problem was she didn’t have a defense against this Carter and that made him potentially more dangerous to her than Eldrick.
Carter walked into Jackson’s Jameson Industries office two days later without knocking. Since he carried sandwiches and everything else they needed for lunch, Carter doubted Jackson would mind the unscheduled intrusion.
He’d volunteered to pick up the food because he needed a distraction from his phone and its lack of messages.
There was exactly one reason for his frustration: Hanna. She still hadn’t gotten in touch with him. No call. No message. No text. He’d made a point of giving her his contact information after making his big come-to-Virginia offer, convinced she wouldn’t refuse...and yet, nothing.
The hours ticked by and he tried to forget her and their odd meeting, write off her apparent mix of disdain and disinterest. Not dwell on the secrets she hid and her relationship, whatever it was, to his father. Not think about how she’d grown up, about her legs or the gentle sway of her hips as she’d tried to rush him out her door. That face. Those curves.
Yeah, he definitely needed to find something else to think about.
Carter glanced up as he shut the office door behind him. Jackson sat at his desk, studying the contents of the file with such extreme concentration that it looked as if he expected to be tested on the details. Carter got three steps across the room before Jackson started talking. He didn’t lift his head but his voice rang out loud and clear.
“Are you ever going to tell me why you needed the information?” Jackson asked while flipping pages.
Carter froze in midstep. “Did we start a conversation before I entered the room? Because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
With a long, exaggerated sigh, Jackson finally lifted his head. After a quick look up and down, he frowned. It was the kind of once-over Jackson did before he launched into a Jamesons-are-impossible speech. The same kind of look that made Carter self-conscious, and he was rarely that.
After the prolonged visual inspection, Jackson rested his elbows on the desk in front of him. “The Wilde sisters.”
“Oh, right.” Knowing this topic could lead to trouble, Carter tried to deflect. A shrug usually worked, so he went with that. “That was nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” Jackson closed the file almost in slow-motion before lounging back in his big leather seat. “I’ve worked for this family for years. I’ve investigated many people and businesses. It’s never nothing and it usually causes trouble that rolls downhill to my desk to fix.”
Carter started to shrug a second time, then stopped because Jackson would notice multiple shrugs and take it as a sign of...something. “I just wondered what happened to them.”
“Right. So, your dad sends you on this errand. You go and while you’re there you just happen to need emergency intel on the daughters of the man who used to be the caretaker of your family’s Virginia property. A man who died on the job, though you know that part.”
Carter dropped the bag filled with food on the edge of the desk and sat down across from Jackson. “See? Perfectly reasonable.”
“That’s not a word I would ever use to describe your family.”
The bag rustled, making a crinkling sound, as Carter unloaded the sandwiches and what looked to him like two child-sized bags of chips. “Do people really only eat seven chips at a meal?”
He threw one of the bags in Jackson’s general direction. Instead of catching it, Jackson stayed still. The chips crunched as they landed on his keyboard. The only reaction he gave was the slight lift of an eyebrow. Carter took that to mean Jackson was not ready for a new topic.
“So, when you asked me about Hanna and Gena—and yes, I remember their names because I remember everything—that was just a coincidence?” Jackson asked.
“I sense you’re not going to let this go.”
“Want me to give you a list of all of the other people who worked at the Virginia property?” Jackson ripped open the bag of chips and shoved two in his mouth.
The room filled with the sounds of munching, shuffling and sandwich unwrapping. But Carter knew it was only a brief reprieve. Jackson had an annoying habit of holding on to a question and unloading it later, just when Carter relaxed his guard. “It’s kind of freaky how much you know about our family.”
“I like to be ready.”