Family Feud. Barbara Boswell
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and tossed it over the back of a chair, then began loosening the knot of his tie. His shoulders were broad and muscular beneath the crisp white material of his shirt, and he rolled the sleeves to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, covered with dark wiry hair.
Shelby’s eyes widened. The man was shedding his clothes right in front of them! She wouldn’t be surprised if he unfastened his belt buckle next. Thankfully, he didn’t, but he continued to tug at his shirt, obviously uncomfortable with the stiff, starched material.
She watched him, unable to tear her eyes away. He emitted an intensity that struck her as demented and dangerous. Everything about him—his looks, his body language and mocking words—called forth an inner instinct urging her to turn and run from the office. It was the first time she’d ever had such a weird, primal reaction to anyone and she was completely shaken. It was as if she had some secret knowledge evoked from an unconscious level that was unavailable and inexplicable to her rational mind.
That irritated her. Anything that was unavailable and inexplicable to her rational mind was useless and unacceptable to her. Shelby prided herself on her analytical skills and keen grasp of logic, not to mention her firm grip on reality. Never once had she even mildly flirted with the New Age theories that had abounded during her ten-year stay in Southern California. The powers of crystals and channelers were not for her, nor were ridiculous primal instincts. Particularly when they involved this man, who was watching her with an arrogant, amused air that both insulted and infuriated her.
Shelby bristled. She would not serve as a source of amusement to anyone! “Who are you?” she demanded coldly.
Garrett did not enlighten her. “You have to be daughter Shelby,” he proclaimed instead.
He walked toward her, laughing, aware of the effort she was exerting to remain still. He guessed how desperately she wanted to back away from him but she stood rigidly in place, not moving a muscle or even blinking as he came to stand directly in front of her.
“You’re not at all what I expected.”
His eyes gleamed as they slowly slid over her, taking in every inch of her from the top of her head to the athletically correct running shoes on her feet. It was absolutely true, Shelby Halford was not the image of the militant battle-ax he’d conjured up from her father’s descriptions.
Instead of the hatchet face he’d expected, hers was heart shaped, with high cheekbones and full lips. And her lively, alert hazel eyes had nothing in common with the beady-eyed stare of a jackal. She had thick, straight, nut brown hair pulled into a ponytail and a layer of bangs that accentuated her big, wide-set eyes.
She was about five foot five, but seemed taller, probably because of her impossibly long legs that seemed to reach all the way to her armpits. Not that he had a single complaint about that, Garrett admitted, studying the enticing curves of her thighs, conveniently exposed for his scrutiny by her bright red running shorts. And not even those clunky sneakers of hers could disguise the fact that her calves were slim and well shaped. He wondered if she ever wore four-inch-high stiletto heels, but decided that this was not the time to ask.
The rest of her body, slender and compact, was as pleasing as her legs. Softly flaring hips, narrow waist and firm, rounded breasts now heaving with indignation against the white cotton of her shirt. Garrett smiled, both intrigued and satisfied. It seemed a whole new dimension had been added to his impromptu agreement to Halford’s plea.
Shelby flushed at the intensity of his stare. She was not accustomed to blatant male once-overs. She took pride that her strict, no-nonsense air had always halted such sexist behavior.
He was so close she could feel the body heat emanating from him. At an inch or two over six feet, he seemed to tower over her, his frame solid and strong. She was not accustomed to such physicality—she needed her personal space. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep herself locked in place, breathing in the scent of him.
He expected her to skittle away from him. In fact, she was certain he was counting on it. Well, she wasn’t going to. If this was a battle of wills, Shelby intended to be the victor. “Stop leering at me!” she ordered, and was pleased she’d made it sound like an executive command.
“I’m not leering at you, I’m slavering over you,” Garrett corrected. “This is leering.” He leaned even closer, screwing his face into an insanely ridiculous grimace.
Shelby felt a wild, quick impulse to laugh and immediately stifled it. “I don’t know whether you are trying to be funny or not, but I assure you that sexual harassment is not a laughing matter.”
Arthur Halford groaned.
“Sexual harassment!” Garrett echoed with delight. “It’s the issue of the ‘90s and this is my very first accusation. I’m in the loop at last! The family will be so proud.”
Shelby swung away from him, her head held high. It didn’t matter that she was the first one to move, she assured herself. It was time to end this stupid game of one-upmanship he’d begun and she was the one to do it. She was in charge here, not him.
“Dad, who is this...this person?” she demanded crossly. There were so many other nouns she would have rather used.
Garrett seemed to know it. He didn’t bother to stifle his impulse to laugh.
Shelby knew he was laughing at her. She fumed.
Arthur Halford reddened, and he cast a worried, apologetic glance at Garrett.
“Please, introduce me to your charming daughter, Art,” Garrett invited.
Two
Halford took a deep breath. “Mr. McGrath, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Shelby.” He seemed to gulp for air. “Shelby, this is Garrett McGrath, the owner and CEO of the, uh, Family Fun Inns.”
Shelby stared at him. “Garrett McGrath?” Now it was her turn to gasp. Everyone in the high-end of the hotel industry knew that name—some considered it interchangeable with Mephistopheles.
Garrett nodded his head. “Your father said he told you something about our arrangement, about why and how I’ve come here to Halford House to learn all about the upscale hotel business from my betters.”
He glanced at Art. Poor Halford had cringed when he’d confessed the ruse he had cooked up to keep his daughter clueless regarding the sale. Garrett’s first reaction had been incredulity, then his sense of humor had kicked in. He’d been more curious than ever to meet the demonic daughter who’d driven her father to such lengths. And now he’d met her.
Garrett’s gaze slid over Shelby’s lithe figure, then back to her sultry mouth and flashing hazel eyes. “This should be an interesting experience, to say the least.”
“Interesting is hardly the word I’d choose,” Shelby replied coldly. “The entire arrangement is ridiculous.”
She was frustrated, exasperated. Didn’t her father understand? Garrett McGrath was mocking them. That gleam in his impossibly blue eyes was derision, not friendly mirth. “And I told my father so. Having you stay here to observe the way we run Halford House is a complete waste of your time, Mr. McGrath.” And ours, she added silently but implicitly.
Garrett arched his black brows higher. “Sounds like you’re implying that nothing I learn here will be of any use to me in running Family Fun Inns.”
“You know it won’t,” Shelby said tightly.
“I assume rich people have families and want to have fun, just like the patrons of the Family Fun Inns. So isn’t it possible that—”
“You’re deliberately goading me, Mr. McGrath,” Shelby cut in. “And I—”
“I’m just trying to learn from you, Your Highness.” It was Garrett’s turn to interrupt and he did so, grinning broadly. “So far, I haven’t learned much about running a swank joint like Halford House but