Last Man Standing. Julie Miller
forcing her to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact.
“Keep in mind, Victoria…” He nodded to a line in the paneling that ran parallel to the edge of the redbrick fireplace. She’d already spotted the hinges on the bookshelf marking a hidden door. “This old Victorian monstrosity is filled with secret rooms and passageways a stranger could get lost in. We had a new maid here once who went down to the cellar for a bottle of wine and ended up missing in the catacombs for two days. Needless to say, by the time we found her, she wasn’t inclined to return to work, so we let her go. For your own safety—as well as protection of Jericho’s artifacts—until our chief clears you, you’ll be restricted to certain areas of the house.”
“But I’ll need access to every room, even the hidden ones, in order to do my job completely.”
“True, my uncle’s taste in fine things goes through the entire house. Nonetheless, there are restricted areas throughout the estate. I doubt the chief would look too favorably upon finding you where you shouldn’t be.” He flashed a smile as white as his shorts, then stood and circled behind her chair. He traced his fingertips along the sleeve of her jacket, marking a trail from wrist to shoulder. “Of course, I, too, have an appreciation for fine things. Perhaps I could personally show you some of the more valuable items we keep behind locked doors.”
Tori stared deep into the grain of the desk, resisting the urge to clench her fists at the unwelcome touch. She had a feeling breaking and entering, and risking the wrath of Jericho Meade would be preferable to spending time in close quarters with this lothario.
“The chief?” she asked, keeping her voice even. “You mean Mr. Meade?”
Irked by her lack of interest in his offer, the charm bled from Chad’s voice. “Our chief of security. Cole Taylor.” Chad stalked to the drink cart and splashed some brown liquor into his water. He drank half the glass before speaking again. “He used to be a cop. Lost his badge on a corruption charge.” The rest of his drink disappeared in another long swallow and he refilled the glass, ignoring the water this time. “Taylor saved the old man’s life one night, and now he’s the golden boy. He guards Jericho and all that’s his with the devotion of a damn puppy. He’s the one you really need to worry about.”
So she’d heard.
Chad’s smile was firmly back in place when he faced her again. But she’d glimpsed the chink in his plastic exterior. Was it jealousy over Taylor’s quick rise in the family hierarchy? Contempt over golden boy’s qualifications for the job? Mistrust because Jericho had let an ex-cop into the fold?
Tori didn’t push. Curiosity aside, she wasn’t here to investigate crime family disharmony—unless she needed to use it as leverage to achieve her own agenda.
“So when can I meet Mr. Taylor?” Though she’d have a hard time feigning respect for a man she knew to be a crooked cop, she had to play the protocol game, or risk her cover. “The sooner I get started, the sooner I can have the estimates for your uncle.”
“Why are you so anxious to get to work, Victoria?” Chad bolted his drink and strolled back to the desk.
“Because it’s the job Mr. Meade hired me to do?”
He, apparently, didn’t appreciate flippancy. He sank into the chair behind the desk. Neither of them was smiling now. “I’m Mr. Meade,” he stated, emphasizing his claim to authority while sounding for all the world like a petulant child. “I’d think you’d want to be making a better impression on me. My uncle is in his late seventies. His mind and health are failing and he’s tired all the time. I’m the one who arranged to have you hired. We’re trying to avoid a legal nightmare with insurance claims and make sure his wishes are carried out after his death.”
The library door opened with a quiet swish across the carpet. “Don’t write me off just yet, Chad.”
A wizened old man with a shock of snow-white hair and clear blue eyes entered the room. The gnarled fingers of his left hand clutched an unlit cigar and rested on the arm of a plump man with slick, thinning hair. Though the men were similar in age, there was an unexpected frailty about the white-haired man.
Despite the added lines and yellowish pallor, Tori recognized Jericho Meade even before Chad rose from his seat to acknowledge him.
“Uncle.”
“Mr. Meade.” Tori stood and extended her hand. “Victoria Westin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Releasing his grip on the sturdy anchor of his aide, he moved forward to shake hands politely. “So, you’re Frank’s granddaughter. I haven’t seen that old coot in years.” A single, sliding glance sent Chad scrambling from behind the desk. “Aren’t you late for your game with Lana? It’s not wise to keep your fiancée waiting.” Jericho’s smile turned back to include Tori. “Especially to flirt with another beautiful woman.”
Ah, so schmaltz ran in the family. Tori forced herself to smile at the indirect compliment. “Thank you.”
Reluctant to be dismissed, Chad paused beside the portly man she’d identified as Paul Meredith. “Just one thing before I go. I’m curious, Victoria. The university recommended you as an experienced consultant with whom they’ve worked several times. I’ve attended several university and museum fund-raisers. How come we’ve never met before?”
The dare in his eyes and voice made her wonder whether he was trying to score smart points with his uncle or show her up as a fraud because she’d rebuffed his advances. She’d dealt with power-hungry men like Chad all her life, and had learned to walk a fine line between asserting herself and placating their egos. “I’m dedicated to my work.” That wasn’t a lie, but she wasn’t about to elaborate on her real profession. “My mother’s the fund-raiser in the family. My talents lie more behind the scenes. With graduate school, research and travel, I’ve really had little time for socializing.”
“There. You see, Chad?” Jericho held on to the desk and guided himself to his chair. “She doesn’t waste her family’s money or her time partying—”
“I work damn hard. If you’re insinuating—”
“I believe your uncle dismissed you.” Paul Meredith turned and blocked Chad’s path back to the desk. “Lana will be upset if your tennis match gets rained out because you kept her waiting.”
Chad cocked his head and glared at the bigger man. “You think he’s going to leave any of this to you, you old buzzard?”
“Chad.” Frail though he might be in appearance, there was no mistaking the authority in Jericho’s voice. Or the warning. “Because I loved my brother dearly, I’ve raised you like a son. But my patience is wearing thin.” His tone said the discussion was over. “I expect to see you and Lana both at dinner. Enjoy your game.”
Tori snuck a peek over the top of her glasses. A stiff, tawny lock of hair had actually fallen out of place across Chad’s forehead. He smoothed it and his temper back into place as he faced his uncle.
“I don’t presume to take Daniel’s place in your heart, Uncle. But he’s gone. I could run this business if you’d give me a chance.”
Jericho’s eyes glazed over at the mention of Daniel. He did nothing to acknowledge that Chad had even spoken. Finally, accepting his uncle’s dismissal, Chad dipped his chin in a curt nod to her.
“Victoria. Until dinner.”
Tori and Paul watched him leave. She made a mental note to steer clear of family politics unless she could find a way to take advantage of it. She could ill afford to side with the wrong person too early in the game. The whole idea of undercover work was not to draw too much attention to herself. And she didn’t want to alienate anyone in the household who might have the answers she needed.
“Jer?” Paul Meredith’s gentle prodding brought Jericho back from whatever distant place he’d drifted off to.
The patriarch blinked, then grinned. “Take off your