Last Man Standing. Julie Miller

      “Yes, I see the resemblance in the eyes. Sometimes it’s easier to remember what happened years ago than what happened yesterday.” Jericho’s voice wavered with a hint of his age and illness now. “But I know those eyes. That deep, true green must be a strong Westin family trait. Though I must say they look prettier on you than they ever did on Frank.”

      “I see some men are never too old to flirt.” She smiled on cue as he’d meant for her to, though it had been a long time since she’d considered having more in common with her grandfather than a name. And she wasn’t interested in exploring any family history. It was enough to know the two men had once done business with each other. Her smile never wavered. “You know what would really impress me?”

      “What?”

      “Show me some of your etchings?” The line might be trite, but it had the intended effect.

      The old man laughed. “You flatter me, girl.”

      Whatever was happening to his deteriorating mind and body wasn’t affecting him now. He leaned on the desk and pushed himself to his feet. Paul Meredith was right there to support him, but Jericho waved him aside. “If you’d let an old man hold on to you, dear, I’d love to show you some of my favorite pieces.”

      Tori’s pulse thrummed in anticipation as she tossed her bag over her shoulder and stood. Lax security. The distraction of a power struggle within the family. Approval from the boss.

      The Divine Horseman was as good as hers.