Читать книгу Tangled Web - Cathy Gillen Thacker - Страница 9

Knowing she had a battle in front of her, Hope walked into the conference room with her head held high. She took her place at the head of the table and motioned for everyone else in the room to sit. Among the buyers was Chase Barrister. In a dark blue suit and tie, he looked very somber and businesslike. He’d also had a haircut, and the dark ash-blond layers were arranged in a neat, preppy style. Used to seeing him more casually dressed, his blond hair rumpled, his posture defiantly casual and laid-back, Hope was disconcerted by his formal attire and exacting attitude. For the first time, he looked a lot like Edmond—powerful, observant, demanding. And though Chase had always possessed Edmond’s wit, intelligence and consummate people-sense, he had never shown the slightest inclination to indulge her the way Edmond had. Realizing that, Hope felt her nerves jangle. And she wasn’t the only one on edge.

She could see that the seasoned staff was wondering at Chase’s presence, too. Although he had worked at the store, summers, while in college, he had not expressed any interest since. He never attended board meetings, never mind Hope’s weekly conferences with the staff. Deciding the only way to get through this was to plunge right in, she said, “You’re all aware of the lack of recent profits. To survive, Barrister’s is going to have to change. We can no longer cater strictly to the socialites. We’re going to have to try to capture some of the yuppie market, too.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Steve Supack asked, his look both astonished and grim. Informal spokesperson for group, Steve was in his mid-forties. He had been with the the company for over twenty years, working his way up steadily from clerk to head buyer for menswear. Although he did not have a college degree, his sense of style and ability to please even the rudest, most discriminating customer had proved invaluable. Edmond had trusted him implicitly.

“I never kid about anything this important,” Hope said, meeting Steve’s level gaze. She knew they were all thinking that if the prices and quality of the merchandise went down, so would the size of their sales commissions. She had also known for some time that this had to be done and that it was going to be an uphill battle. Change was never easy, even when it was necessary. She would face criticism from every source—clients, rival businesspeople, and her own employees. But it was the only way she knew to save what had been her late husband’s life work, and preserve her young son’s inheritance. So persevere she must, no matter how formidable the odds or how disbelieving her employees.

“The changes will be effective immediately. We are going to cater to a broader range of clients, carry fewer high-ticket items, do away with all in-store displays of whimsical gifts, and become a more mainstream department store.”

She glanced at the sea of apprehensive faces, purposefully avoiding Chase’s steady, intent gaze. This was hard enough without worrying about what he thought of her ability to run the business, too. She would deal with him later, only when she absolutely had to. Right now, she was concerned about her employees.

She understood and shared the fear of the thirty buyers in front of her. If her plan didn’t work, they would doubtless join the stream of other elitist family-owned department stores that had filed for bankruptcy in recent years. But she also understood what they didn’t, and what she hoped Chase would soon, that this was the only chance they had to survive. “We’ll begin with the Houston Galleria store. If the changes test successfully here, we will change all the other Barrister’s around the country in the fall.”

“What do the Board of Directors have to say about this?” a feminine voice from the back challenged openly.

Hope looked up and her heart sank as she focused on the thin blond socialite. It was Rosemary Barrister, Edmond’s first wife! When had she walked in?

Chase turned at the sound of his mother’s voice. Hope noted, with something akin to satisfaction and surprise, that he didn’t look any happier to see his jet-setting mother than she felt. Holding her voice steady, despite the hatred and resentment she felt emanating from the other woman, Hope answered firmly, “The Board has already approved my plan.”

Rosemary shook her head. “You’re going to ruin the reputation of this store.”

Everyone whispered, apparently agreeing with Rosemary.

Hope struggled to control the meeting. “There won’t be a Barrister’s if we don’t make the changes necessary to survive in today’s more competitive marketplace.”

Apparently she succeeded in getting across just how desperate their situation was, for the staff fell silent. Feeling drained, and fearing another rude outburst from the volatile Rosemary, Hope dismissed the group of buyers, adding, “I’ll expect to see your revised stock orders on my desk one week from today.”

The mood somber, everyone filed out. Some, like Steve Supack, who had known the family for years, paused to say hello to Rosemary. Chase got up and walked to the window overlooking West-heimer.

Wishing to avoid a run-in with Rosemary, Hope began stuffing papers into her briefcase. To no avail. The minute the conference room had cleared out, a belligerent Rosemary shut the heavy oak doors and faced Hope and Chase. “I’ll see you in hell before I let you destroy Barrister’s!” she warned.

“Mother,” Chase said curtly, looking as aggrieved as Hope felt.

“I told you I’d handle this.”

“Look at her!” Rosemary said. “Barrister’s is being ruined. And she still looks like she has the world by the tail!”

Chase looked at Hope. His mother was right about that. Hope did look fantastic, even under fire. But then she always had. That had been part of the problem. Even at a very young, naive nineteen she had possessed a strikingly sensual beauty that had doubtless haunted every man who’d ever come in contact with her. She had wide, vulnerable blue eyes, a generous mouth, bee-stung lips, and pearly white teeth. Those features along with the silky thickness of her dark hair and fair skin never failed to command a second, and third look from men and women alike. And though Chase had tried to remain unaffected, he had noticed. He had always noticed, even to his considerable guilt, when his father was alive.

It didn’t help matters to notice that in the years since Joey’s birth, her slim figure had filled out. Now, her curves were more lush and womanly beneath her white wool dress and red blazer.

If they’d met under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered to hide how he felt, but would have pursued her with everything he had, not stopping until she was his. But that hadn’t happened. He’d met her as his father’s wife and he still had to try to think of her that way, out of respect. To do otherwise would be wrong.

Oblivious to his traitorous thoughts, Hope turned to his mother and said in a soothing tone, “I’m sorry you’re upset, Rosemary. Believe me, this pains me as much as it does you.”

“I doubt that,” Rosemary said, making no effort to hide the malevolence in her voice.

Chase saw a flash of hurt, then anger, in Hope’s eyes. Knowing his mother’s formidable temper, and fearing this would turn into an out and out brawl if left unchecked, Chase touched his mother’s arm in a calming gesture. He may not have wanted her here, but now that she was, he would have to deal with her, too. “Mother, I’d like to speak to Hope alone.”

Rosemary hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “Shall I wait for you outside?”

“Please.”

He waited until his mother had departed, then aware they hadn’t much time, turned to Hope and got straight to the point. “I agree with Steve Supack and my mother. Changing the image of the store may do more harm than good, at this point.”

Striding back to her briefcase, Hope clicked it open, pulled out a sheaf of papers and handed it to him. “Those are the demographics on our latest sales figures and the market projections for the rest of the year, as well as the next decade. I think, Chase, if you study them you’ll see I am well-advised to make the changes I’ve outlined.”

Surprised by her professionalism and her calm in the light of so much tension, Chase hooked a booted foot beneath the lower rung of a wheeled conference chair and pulled it out. He sank into it. He was aware of her standing behind him, so closely he could hear her soft, steady breaths and inhale the sophisticated sexy scent of her perfume. He tried to glance through the papers.

Unfortunately, with Hope so close, it was all but impossible for him to concentrate. Briefly he considered asking her to wait outside while he read, then promptly discarded that idea. If he did so, Rosemary would wonder why, and he didn’t need his mother’s prurient curiosity. Finally, with a great deal of effort, he managed to scan the reports, he saw she’d done a thorough, accurate job. Market projections were just that, however, projections. His mind on business once again, he frowned. “It’s still a risk.” And more to the point, he wasn’t sure hers was a course his father would ever have condoned.

“A risk I’m willing to take,” she pointed out calmly.

“Suppose I’m not?”

“It isn’t up to you,” she pointed out levelly. As much as he searched he could find no bitterness or resentment in her eyes, just a quiet practicality that was almost as unnerving as her beauty.

Realizing he was thinking of her as a desirable woman again, one he had no right to yearn for or to know more intimately, Chase pushed the thoughts away. He had to think about business, nothing more. If he didn’t, his feelings of guilt and disloyalty would eat him alive.

Chase turned his gaze back to the papers with a grimace of concentration. He knew that Hope held the upper hand in terms of stock; for the moment anyway. She had the controlling interest. If the Board of Directors was behind her, she had the power to do anything she wanted.

Besides, maybe Hope was right. She had been here, working diligently for the past ten years. Her commitment to Barrister’s granted her this chance to try to save it her way. “All right,” he conceded finally, feeling in his gut he was doing the only decent thing. “I’ll make no move to stop you from executing your plans.”

Hope didn’t so much as blink. She faced him quietly. “What about Rosemary?”

Hope was clearly worried about his mother, and she had every right to be. “I’ll see she gives you a clear path, too. For a short time,” he specified firmly.

Hope frowned and her blue eyes grew troubled. “How short a time?”

Chase did some rapid calculations. “Three months ought to be enough to turn it around.” If your plan is going to work, he added mentally.

She heaved a sigh of unmasked exasperation. “I’ll need at least six months, Chase, with no interference from either of you.”

He shook his head. “Three is all I’m offering, Hope. Take it or leave it.”

Silence fell between them. “I’ll take it,” she retorted glumly. He started to return the papers, but she shook her head and waved her hand, indicating she didn’t want them. “Your mother might want to see those. Perhaps they’ll reassure her.”

Chase doubted that. Rosemary’s resentment of Hope was deep and unrelenting; he suspected it always would be. But he said nothing as Hope snapped the locks on either side of her briefcase handle.

“Now that this is settled, I presume you’ll be leaving for Costa Rica?”

He only wished it were that easy. “Not exactly. I’m short of funds. The lack of profits caught us unaware. I loaned money to my mother to pay the rent on her villa in Monte Carlo. So, until I can scrounge up more money for my research, I’ll be staying in Houston, keeping tabs on what’s going on here personally.”

Staying on, she thought. If he did that, they’d be seeing each other almost twenty-four hours a day, both at work and at home. They’d take meals together. Where she may have wanted to be closer to Chase for Edmond’s sake and for the reunification of the Barrister family, she had never wanted this. Especially not when she knew how attracted she was to him, that she had only to look at him or be near to him to feel a resurgence of desire. And yet, because he was Edmond’s son and had once lived there, too, she could hardly tell him to go.

Feeling like she’d sustained a strong blow to the chest, Hope struggled to catch her breath and keep her voice noncommittal and even. “How long?”

Looking totally unaffected by her reluctance to have him underfoot, Chase shrugged. “Until I get enough to underwrite another expedition.”

That could take weeks, even months, Hope knew. Weeks of unbearable tension, of dealing with him, and of seeing him at all hours of the day and night, maybe even in his pajamas! If he wore pajamas. Something told her he didn’t. What was she going to do? Simultaneously desperate to get him out from underfoot, and feeling she owed him whatever financial help she could spare, because of Edmond, she offered to help speed him on his way. “Look, I don’t have a lot of ready cash available to me either right now, but if your returning to Costa Rica is a matter of a simple plane fare and a few months provisions, a guide, I could—”

“Why would you want to do that for me?” he cut in abruptly, regarding her suspiciously. He knew, she felt, that she very much wanted to get rid of him A.S.A.P.

“Because you’re Edmond’s son.” Because I find you distracting and attractive and it’s killing me inside because even though I’m single now it makes me feel disloyal to Edmond. Because I know you think the worst of me, that I married Edmond for his money when in reality money never had anything to do with my feelings for your father. But knowing she’d never convince anyone of that, never mind Chase, she decided to concentrate on the aspects of their relationship they could discuss.

“So?” he challenged mildly. “I’m Edmond’s son? I’m not yours.”

How well she knew that. Struggling for equilibrium, Hope said, “You’re family, Chase.” Neither of us might have chosen it, but there it is. I have to do what Edmond would have wanted. And beyond that, for reasons she couldn’t really define, she wanted to help Chase achieve his goals and be happy. After all, their family difficulties aside, he was a kind, selfless person, in ways that she truly admired. It felt right somehow that she help him. “You’re family,” she repeated.

He shook his head in mute disagreement, denying it with all he was worth. “That bond ended when my father died.”

What bond? Hope wanted to say. He had never so much as given her the time of day. And that had hurt, knowing that he wouldn’t give her a chance.

He wished she didn’t look so hurt, dejected and crushed. Brushing her off wasn’t something he wanted to do; it was a familial decency that was required of him.

To his chagrin, Hope’s expression remained desolate, as if she were taking his rejection personally. He sighed regretfully. He felt a lot of things for Hope; he didn’t want to add guilt for hurting her feelings to the list. And he didn’t think his Dad would’ve wanted it, either. “But you’re right,” Chase said, picking up the thread of the conversation uncomfortably. “I am anxious to be out of here.” Away from the temptation of you. “But as much as I want to get back to work I can’t take your money, Hope.” Not knowing that despite all their best efforts, the store might fold anyway. She would still have Joey to raise, and thus would need every cent she had.

Hope was silent, remembering, he expected, that he had never taken money from his father for his expeditions, either. Chase noticed with relief that her hurt expression was beginning to fade.

“I understand,” she empathized softly.

Good. “Which leaves me only one choice,” Chase continued.

“For you to stay on at the house with me,” Hope guessed in a voice quavering with unspoken emotion.

Silence fell between them. For a moment, neither spoke. Neither needed to. They both knew how difficult it would be for the two of them to share space for even a short period of time, never mind the weeks or months he was proposing.

“I won’t get in your way,” Chase promised gruffly. “Or Joey’s—”

“I know.”

“And tell Carmelita not to worry about me, either. I don’t want her trooping over to make my bed.”

Hope felt her cheeks warm. “All right,” she murmured in agreement. She didn’t want to know what was going on or not going on in Chase’s bedroom, either.

He shoved his suit coat back and put his hands on his hips. He assessed her bluntly. “It’ll still be awkward for you, won’t it?”

“A little,” she agreed, working to keep the heat out of her cheeks. Lamely, she added, “Joey and I aren’t used to having anyone else around except Carmelita. But I’m sure we can cope,” she said hastily after a moment, embarrassed again.

He nodded his understanding, looking both grateful for the hospitality and wary of the probable complications to come and suddenly Hope knew. He’s attracted to me, too, she thought, seeing it in the abrupt tenseness of his frame and the way he suddenly wouldn’t look into her eyes. But because of Edmond he wouldn’t do anything about it, either, she noted with equally strong feelings of relief and disappointment.

“Hope?” Leigh Olney, the new buyer for Children’s Wear, interrupted them. Although she had only been hired recently, Leigh had quickly made herself indispensable. She was already the most flexible of the staff. “Sorry to interrupt but there’s—” Leigh looked at Chase and faltered. “A surprise in your office that—uh—needs your attention right away.”

It was clear to Hope from the excited look on Leigh’s face that the twenty-four-year old thought she was doing her a giant favor. And also that the surprise couldn’t wait another moment. Glad for the reason to excuse herself from Chase, and from the unexpected realization that he was as uncomfortably aware of her as a woman as she was of him as a man, she said, “I’m sorry, Chase, I’ve got to go.”

Still puzzling over Leigh’s excited expression, she walked to her office, wondering all the while what the surprise could be. It wasn’t her birthday or her anniversary with the store, or even the date she had taken over as president of Barrister’s. Yet the usually unflappable Leigh had acted as if she had an entire surprise party awaiting her. Shrugging it off, she stepped inside her office and closed the door behind her.

And it was then that she saw him, standing next to the polished oak sideboard Edmond had installed in the far corner. Although expertly cut, the jazzy teal blazer, white slacks and shirt, did little to disguise the fact he was now a good twenty pounds overweight. Above the knot of his silk tie, his deeply tanned face had the pinched look of recent plastic surgery. Years had passed and he had aged badly, but as long as she lived she would never forget Russell Morris’s aristocratic face or his soulless deep blue eyes.

Her stomach churning with long suppressed memories, she drew on every ounce of gentility she had worked to possess and asked crisply, “How may I be of help to you?” She knew, from reading the Wall Street Journal, that his family-owned firm was in big trouble, too. It had been since the day he’d inherited it five years prior. Currently, if she guessed right, Russell Morris was probably close to losing everything, too.

Russell turned, a handful of the Godiva chocolates she kept just for Joey in his palm. “Is this any way to greet an old friend?” he asked. He voluptuously downed one of the expensive treats.

First off, we were never friends, she thought. A friend would never have done to me what you did. Her back stiffened in a way that let him know she wasn’t about to be taken advantage of by him again. No longer an innocent young girl, she was stronger now, smarter. She gave him a warning look and said briskly, “I’m very busy—”

“I imagine you are, Hope,” he interrupted smoothly. The cruel lines of his mouth flattened even more. “All these stores you inherited from that rich husband of yours aren’t doing very well.” He finished the last of the chocolates he’d pilfered, then dusted off his hands. The look he gave her was smug and insinuating. Remembering the past, it was all she could do to keep from flying at him and flailing him with both fists. She hated him that much.

“Is there a point to this?” she asked stiffly. She wanted nothing more than to get him out before there was a scene and before Chase discovered him there.

“If you’ll let me get to it.” Briefly Russell’s voice held the old autocratic edge she detested, then it dropped even lower, so it was slick and soft and totally insincere. “I can help you, Hope,” he said guilelessly, moving two steps nearer.

The smell of his cologne, even at a distance, made her ill, and it was all she could do to swallow the bile rising in her throat.

“I know you need it,” Russell continued. “That’s why I’ve come.”

Even if the past hadn’t stood between them, there was no way she would have ever let anyone as selfish and remorseless as he anywhere near her beloved Barrister’s.

“I don’t think so,” she corrected archly.

Her skin crawling because of his nearness, she turned and moved purposefully to the door. She had to get him out of her office before the loathing she felt inside got the better of her. What had happened in the past was horrible but it was over, she schooled herself firmly. She had to make sure it stayed that way, for all their sakes. She yanked open the door and waved him on his way.

He stayed where he was, as arrogant and presumptuous as ever. “That’s it? You’re going to dismiss me without even hearing me out?” he asked in disbelief, as if she were the one in the wrong. Straightening lazily, he moved toward her, one manicured hand held out beseechingly.

As the distance between them narrowed, her stomach lurched again. Working hard to hide the insistent trembling of her hands, she gave him a look that spoke volumes about the way she felt. And would always feel. “I see no reason to waste our time.”

“I run Morris Fabrics now—”

“I’m well aware of all you have inherited.” The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach increased. He’d inherited the power, the wealth, and the complete and utter lack of scruples.

“And?”

Her chin high, she said, “I have no desire to do business with your family firm, now or at any time in the future.” She wanted to make that very clear.

Russell’s expression turned ugly. “You’re making a mistake,” he warned, his eyes flashing in anger. “I could have cut you quite a deal.”

The only thing she wanted from him was to be left alone. Pasting an official smile on her face, she stalked out, and on her way, asked the nearest security guard to please escort Mr. Morris to his car and see that he got off all right. As always, Russell knew when to cut his losses and move on to greener pastures. He said nothing more, save a falsely cordial public farewell.

“So how was it?” an excited Leigh Olney asked when she saw Hope again an hour later. At Hope’s blank look, Leigh elaborated, “Your reunion with your old high-school buddy? Russell Morris said the two of you hadn’t seen one another in years.”

Hope wished fervently it had stayed that way.

Leigh continued with cheerful candor, “He figured you’d be really surprised, and I guess you were.”

Stunned and heartsick was more like it, Hope thought. Gathering her wits, Hope said, “To tell you the truth, Leigh, we weren’t that close back then. He’s just down on his luck right now. And I can’t help him. That being the case, I’d prefer not to see him again.”

Leigh looked crushed. “I’m sorry, Hope. The guy led me to believe—I mean he’s the heir to Morris Fabrics and all and you’re running this place—I just naturally thought—”

“I know you did, and it’s okay.” Hope knew how charming Russell could be when he put his mind to it. She sighed, “Mr. Morris has a way of implying closeness where none exists.”

Leigh nodded, understanding that much very well. It was clear from the look on her face that nothing more needed to be said. “Listen, about the meeting this morning. I want you to know I’m behind you all the way.”

“Thanks. I’m going to need every bit of help I can get,” Hope said. Especially since neither Chase nor Rosemary was in her corner, she thought.

Unfortunately Hope’s day didn’t get any better. One by one, buyers came in to express their concerns about the new direction she had charted for Barrister’s and the security of their jobs. She felt exhausted and depressed while she was driving home, but began to relax when she entered the house and caught a whiff of Carmelita’s delicious lemon chicken.

After a long, hot soak in the tub and a glass of wine, she’d be able to forget all about her horrendous day and Russell Morris. By the time Joey arrived home from Little League practice, all would be back to normal. Or as close as it could be, with Chase living in the guest house out back, she amended wryly.

Unfortunately, Hope hadn’t gotten any further than kicking off her heels and putting down her briefcase when the front door banged open and Joey came running in, his head ducked down in shame. Tears streamed down his face. “My God, what happened?” she cried, looking at the swelling bruise that seemed to cover most of his upper cheek and all of his left eye. Where were his glasses?

He tried to shrug it off and escape further maternal scrutiny. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing!” Hope cried. She stepped in front of him, latched on to his arm and gently but firmly prevented his escape to his bedroom.

Carmelita gasped as she joined them. In her mid-thirties, the slim housekeeper had lived with them since Joey was born. As emotional as she was kind, the devoted employee loved Joey almost as fiercely as Hope did. “Oh, no, Joey,” Carmelita said, wringing her hands.

“This looks wicked,” Hope said seriously. She started for the telephone. “I’m calling the doctor.”

“Mom, no—” Joey dashed after her and grabbed her sleeve. “Don’t—”

Looking more panic-stricken than ever, Carmelita said, “I’ll get Mr. Chase. He’s a doctor. He will know what to do.” Not waiting for Hope’s permission, Carmelita took off at a run.

Realizing what a big deal was going to be made out of this, Joey swore, using language a flabbergasted Hope had never heard coming from his mouth. That mouth, now that she looked at it, seemed a little swollen, too. And there was a tear in the sleeve of his T-shirt. Slowly she put down the phone. She still intended to call the doctor if necessary, but later, when she had a bit more information. Hands on her hips, she faced her young son. “What happened to you?”

His lower lip shot out in mutiny. “I got in a fight, okay?” he said rebelliously.

This was a first and completely unlike Joey. She faced him incredulously, bending her knees slightly until she and Joey were at eye level. “Why?” It didn’t take a genius to realize Joey didn’t want to say, which made her all the more anxious.

“What’s going on?” Chase asked breathlessly. He joined them, Carmelita fast on his heels. He’d obviously been dressing when Carmelita summoned him. Rather than finish, he’d merely grabbed his shirt and boots. Even now, the top two buttons on his jeans had been left undone. Hope, concerned only for her son, was not about to point out that omission to Chase as he pulled on a soft rumpled navy work shirt and began to button it over the broad expanse of his suntanned chest.

Hope turned her gaze up to Chase’s face, wishing he weren’t here to witness this. “Joey got in a fight,” she reported in a highly emotional voice.

Joey rolled his eyes. Too late Hope realized, as evidently did Chase, that smothering concern was not what her son needed or wanted at this moment. Looking as unperturbed as she was upset, Chase grinned at Joey, then shook his head in silent remonstration. Bracing a shoulder against the wall, he asked laconically, with the overt nonchalance only another man could feel at a time like this, “Well, did you lose or win?”

Surprised and pleased by Chase’s more understanding reaction to his troubles, Joey had to think about that. “It was a tie, I guess, since one of the twins ended up with a split lip.”

Hope whirled on Chase, exasperated. She fixed him with a quelling look he just as deliberately ignored. She realized she had signed up for the misadventure of her life by permitting him to stay. She would have to really work to see he didn’t get the upper hand with her or negatively influence her son into adapting his renegade ways. “Chase!” Hope scolded. That he would encourage this kind of macho behavior with her son incensed her. She had wanted him to do the exact opposite. Otherwise, she never would have let Carmelita run to get him.

Chase paused only to give her a look that indicated she was supposed to let him handle this, his way. Whether that was because he was a physician or Joey’s brother, she didn’t know. Chase gave Hope another I-know-what-I’m-doing look, put a hand on Joey’s shoulder and propelled him in the direction of the guest bath that was tucked under the stairs. “Let’s get you in here and washed up a bit. Carmelita,” he instructed kindly, knowing how anxious Hope’s live-in housekeeper was to be helpful, “we could do with an ice pack if you’ve got one.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Chase.” Carmelita scurried off to do his bidding.

Chase ignored Hope and their close proximity to each other in the tiny room. He settled his young patient on the closed seat of the commode, then raided the medicine cabinet for supplies, taking out bandages, antiseptic wipes and antibiotic cream.

Hope wanted to be in the room but she didn’t want to be in the way, so she moved back as far as she could go. She found herself braced against the far wall, with her hip wedged against the sink. Chase’s shoulder was within a hair’s breadth of hers. Maybe I should have stayed in the doorway, she thought, but it was too late. Chase’s body was already blocking the only way out. She had no choice but to stay where she was and suffer through their enforced closeness silently.

Watching Chase gently examine Joey’s scrapes and bruises was adequate distraction, however. She observed with uncharacteristic helplessness; prior to this she had always been the one who bandaged Joey after a mishap. She was struck by not only Chase’s gentleness and physician’s expertise, but also by his innate talent for dealing with kids, period. Chase was a very good doctor, she admitted grudgingly, but his ability to handle young patients didn’t exactly jibe with his irresponsible, nomadic life-style. Did he miss having kids himself? she wondered absently as Chase took a closer look at a long, rather nasty-looking scrape under Joey’s chin. He seemed to find it nothing to worry about and only cleaned it without comment. Would Chase have kids now if his engagement to Lucy had worked out? Chase was so closemouthed about his private life; no one knew why his engagement to Lucy had ended. Certainly she’d been beautiful and intelligent, if a bit aloof and almost superficial at times.

But that was none of her business, Hope reminded herself sternly, turning her attention back to the unfolding drama. From what she could judge as Chase swabbed antiseptic on the scratch beneath Joey’s chin, then daubed it with cream and fastened a bandage over it, Joey was in fair shape, all things considered.

That being the case, the conversation shifted back to how Joey had gotten into his predicament. At Chase’s gentle, pragmatic urging, the story came tumbling out.

“Well, see, it was like this. The Bateman twins said I was a sissy and shouldn’t be allowed to play at all ’cause sometimes I lose my breath and have to stop and use my inhaler. I got mad and called them a name back. A—uh—real bad one, Chase.” When Joey admitted this to his half brother, Hope sighed and rolled her eyes.

“And then one of them punched me and I punched one of them. The next thing I knew somebody’d knocked my glasses off and I was on the ground, fighting both of them.”

Both Batemans against little Joey! Hope felt color drain from her face. Those twins outweighed him by twenty pounds apiece, and were sturdy and muscular to boot. They could have really hurt him. Or brought on a full-blown asthma attack. But they hadn’t, she reminded herself firmly. Hanging on to her composure by a thread, nevertheless, she asked as calmly as possible, “Where are your glasses now?”

“Dunno.” Joey shrugged. Apparently that was the least of his worries.

“Well, you defended yourself courageously and held your own and that’s something,” Chase remarked. He gently cleansed the bruised skin around Joey’s left eye. “You’re going to have a shiner here, all right.” Chase straightened and held up three fingers.

Hope had to flatten herself against the sink to avoid rubbing up against Chase from shoulder to thigh. “How many?” Chase asked, his eyes riveted on her son.

“Three.”

Chase nodded in satisfaction then gave Joey his laconic smile. “Well, I guess you’ll live.”

He might, Hope thought wryly. But she was going to die from lack of oxygen if she didn’t get out of there soon. Standing this close to Chase for such a prolonged period of time made it a little difficult to breathe. Fortunately Carmelita was back, ice pack in hand.

Still steadfastly ignoring Hope, Chase put the ice pack in Joey’s hand and pressed it to his eye. “You need to keep that on for twenty minutes, then off for twenty, then on again the rest of the night. Got that?” he instructed his young patient kindly. “It’ll keep the swelling down.”

“Okay.” Joey started to get up.

“Just a minute, young man,” Hope said. There was a lot more she wanted to know. “Where was your coach when all this brawling was going on?”

“Over by the fence. Why?”

“And he let you boys fight?”

Joey shrugged his thin shoulders. “Well yeah, until the end, then he broke it up.”

“I don’t believe this!” Hope said, turning on her heel. She slipped past Chase, narrowly avoiding a collision, and slipped out into the hall. As far as she was concerned, the fight should have been stopped at the name-calling stage. One punch thrown was too many.

Joey dashed after her, catching up when she reached the telephone table in the hall. “Mom, you’re not going to call the coach, are you?” he asked anxiously.

“I most certainly am. This is not acceptable behavior. And if he doesn’t understand that, then I’m pulling you off the team.”

“You’d make me quit?” Joey cried. He sounded both incensed and fearful.

“Rather than have you hurt, yes, I would,” Hope said firmly, reaching for the phone.

“Wait a minute here, Hope.” Chase put his hand over hers, using just enough pressure to prevent her from picking up the receiver. His hand acted like a bolt of lightning on her already highly charged emotions. She froze, paralyzed both by the cool, adult determination in his hazel eyes and by the extraordinarily sensual heat that radiated from her fingers, through her arm, to her chest. She didn’t want to let him, or anyone else for that matter, tell her what to do about her son. Still, Chase’s insistent male presence was as hard to fight as his low, persuasive voice. “Yes, the boys got in a brawl, but there was no real harm done. The other kids were all right, too, weren’t they?” Still touching Hope’s hand, Chase looked at Joey for confirmation.

Joey nodded. And where Chase’s hand met hers, Hope’s skin began to burn and tingle.

“Everyone lost their tempers,” Chase continued reassuringly. He looked at Hope, his intent gaze searing hers. “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“You’re darn right about that,” Hope muttered. Her anger about the indignity her son had suffered returned full force. She still planned to call the coach and tell him exactly what she thought of him but Chase kept his hand squarely on hers. Hope wanted nothing more than to jerk her hand free of his light but implacably confining grip. Not about to tussle with him in front of Joey for ownership of the receiver, however, and knowing Chase wouldn’t give it to her willingly, Hope remained where she was, glaring up at Chase all the while.

Joey swallowed. “Mom, you’re not going to try to get the twins kicked off the team, are you?” he asked in abject misery, as if the possibility would be unbearably humiliating

Hope considered the call something that had to be done. Those twins had been trouble for a long time. Just because their father owned an oil company, they thought they could do anything and get away with it. Unfortunately, usually they did. Not afraid to take a stand, she said, “Under the circumstances, those Bateman twins shouldn’t go unpunished. You could have really been hurt. The next time you, or whoever else they decide to pick on, might not be so lucky.”

“Mom, there isn’t going to be a next time. Please. Don’t do anything!” Joey wailed. Hope said nothing in reply. She wasn’t about to commit to any line of action before she’d had time to think it through. Joey glared at her in mute exasperation. To her increasing aggravation, Chase looked equally pained.

“About your glasses—is there any chance they’re still at the field?” Chase asked.

“Maybe.” Joey shrugged, distracted. “If they’re not, am I gonna have to pay for new ones?”

Hope ran her free hand through her hair. She hadn’t felt so harried or distressed in a very long time. This wasn’t the worst day she had ever had, but it was certainly a close second. Chase seemed to intuit that; he kept his hand squarely over hers, more in empathy now than remonstration. “I don’t know, Joey,” Hope answered her son tiredly, aware he was still waiting for an answer. “I’ll have to think about it.” She wanted him to be responsible for his belongings, and not take them or the money it cost to buy them for granted. But was this his fault?

Abruptly Joey looked as emotionally wiped out as she felt. “Can I go up to my room now, Mom? I want to lie down.”

Hope shot a concerned glance at her son. It wasn’t like him to want to take a nap, even after practice. “You’re sure you’re okay?” she pressed.

Joey rolled his eyes. “Yes!” He shot a worshipful look at his half brother. “Thanks, Chase. For fixing me up and talking to my mom. You know, calming her down and stuff,” Joey said shyly.

Chase held Joey’s eyes and touched his shoulder with fraternal affection. “Take care of that eye now, you hear?”

“I will,” Joey promised as he moved up the stairs.

Watching him go, Hope was struck by how young he looked. Only when he’d disappeared did Chase let go of her hand. And though she’d resented the way he had physically taken control of her and the situation, Hope found her hand now felt oddly naked and vulnerable without the warm cover of his.

Telling herself she couldn’t let Chase affect her this way, especially now that he was staying there, Hope turned her mind back to Joey’s troubles. “I’m still calling that coach,” she muttered.

“Do so,” Chase warned with a daunting raise of his brow, “and that son of yours will never forgive you.”

She looked at him in surprise, shocked not only by the quiet vehemence in his voice, but by his unaccustomed willingness to inject himself so fully into her and Joey’s lives. The Chase she had known in the past had always watched family dramas from a distance, never risking personal involvement. Was it possible he had changed or matured? Or was this shift due to Edmond’s death and to Chase’s own decision to assume more responsibility for the Barrister family and business, as a whole? She had no chance to ask; Chase was already heading for the front door.

“I assume Little League still practices at the park down the street?” he asked a trifle impatiently.

Hope stared after him, her feelings in turmoil. “Yes, they do.” Her voice sounded as dry and parched as her throat felt.

“I’ll run over and see if I can find Joey’s glasses. Or what’s left of them. And Hope,” he reiterated, turning to give her a meaningful look, “I meant what I said. Don’t do anything until you’ve had a chance to calm down.” His face looked tanned and healthy in the dwindling sunlight; he fastened his hazel eyes on hers and she knew in that one fleeting instant of visual contact that she had more than met her match. He turned and left.

Hope stared after him, bewildered and confused by his actions and yet oddly and perhaps inappropriately drawn to him all the same. When had he started caring what happened to her or her son? she wondered. And why was just the notion of that as disconcerting as the warm, insistent touch of his hand?