Taming The Tycoon. Kathryn Taylor
Читать онлайн книгу.
Her niece probably wouldn’t have to worry about her college education. Unless the inheritance was what Ian Bradford wanted to discuss.
“I assume you plan to contest the will,” she said dryly.
“I can’t, as Mr. Jenkins will undoubtedly confirm when he returns. However, I’d be interested in purchasing the shares belonging to your ward.”
“My niece,” she countered angrily. “Who also happens to be your sister.”
“I don’t have a sister. My father, unfortunately, had a daughter,” he muttered through clenched teeth.
Shannon thought of the solemn child who had come to live with her six months ago. Poor Chelsea didn’t have much of a family to look up to. Her mother had used her as a meal ticket. She would never know her father. Even Shannon, who did her best to provide a loving environment, had to admit she lacked maternal instincts. Add to that menagerie a brother who refused to acknowledge her and Chelsea didn’t have the makings of a happy life ahead.
Ian watched her, the rigid set of his jaw and his narrowed eyes barely concealing his irritation. He twisted his hands together in a gesture of impatience. “Well?”
“You want me to give you an answer right now?”
“You won’t get a better offer.”
“I’m not even sure what the company entails. You expect me to make a decision on Chelsea’s behalf, with absolutely no information and only your altruistic and unbiased promise that I’m being offered a fair deal? Do I appear to be stupid, Mr. Bradford?”
“Not at all, Ms. Moore. I’m sure you’re very smart.” His compliment sounded more like an accusation.
“Then don’t play me for a fool.”
“I was merely presenting you with the opportunity to hold the child’s inheritance in cash. After all, a lot of things can happen before she turns eighteen. Profitable companies have been known to fold for no apparent reason.”
Was he threatening her or only trying to frighten her into making an immediate decision? “How old are you, Mr. Bradford?”
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Thirtythree. What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re a little old to be playing If-I-can’t-haveit-all-no-one-can.” She collected the papers from the desk. “If you’ll excuse me, I have nothing more to say to you.”
Ian came to his feet at the same time as Shannon. “Well, I do.”
“Speak through your lawyer in the future. Your communication skills are lacking.”
“Meaning?”
“First of all, if you think you can scare me with your intimidation tactics, you’ve miscalculated.”
“And?” His insolent half grin sent a heated jolt of resentment surging through her. She fought a losing battle to maintain self-control.
“When you want something from someone, it’s advantageous to try being nice instead of insulting your victim.”
“Is that something you learned while growing up in the slums?”
Shannon drew in a deep breath. Obviously, he’d had her background investigated. Did he think that because her family had spent a couple of years financially strapped while her mother went back to school, she would jump at any offer of money? The inheritance didn’t even belong to her.
“This is getting us nowhere. Let me know when you’ve got something worthwhile to say.” She tucked the manila folder under her arm and left the office.
Ian watched her retreat with more interest than was healthy in his present situation. Her long, shapely legs and slim hips moved in a graceful stride despite her evident ire. Once she disappeared from sight, he lowered himself into the chair again. Reining in his disappointment was easier than bringing his hormone level back to normal.
Shannon Moore was one interesting contradiction. A controlled business facade hid the street fighter beneath. Her auburn, collar-length hair framed an oval face and a fringe of bangs drew attention to a pair of huge brown eyes that turned golden with anger.
“What did you say to her, Ian?” Jenkins asked as he came into the conference room. “She stormed out of here at gale force.”
“I made her an offer She wanted some time to think it over.” No doubt she was on the way to her attorney’s office right this moment. He shrugged. She was only a guardian of the trust. Once she learned that she had no say in the running of the company, his offer would start to look good to her.
“She’s nothing like her sister, I can say that for her.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Jenkins grinned. “Sure you would. Tiffany Moore. She was the one who showed up at your second cousin’s wedding in the leopard bodysuit. Remember?”
Ian recalled the flashy, brassy blonde with the piercing laughter who had made several passes at him. To say his father’s date elicited more stares than the pregnant bride in the white wedding dress was an understatement. “You have to be joking. She was Shannon’s sister?”
While his father’s investigation into his mistress’s background had turned up Shannon’s childhood, as well, Ian had no idea how Shannon supported herself now. By her cool, articulate manner, he would guess she had risen above her humble beginnings. She had acquired the social skills and polish her younger sister lacked.
“We have a few things to discuss, Ian.”
He returned his attention to his father’s lawyer. “Get things started. If she hasn’t gotten back to you in a month, file the petition with the courts.”
“All right. Now, on to a different matter. Wesley paid child support to the mother. Am I to assume with both parties deceased, the arrangement is now terminated?”
Ian gave the question serious thought. He saw no purpose in antagonizing the woman until he knew precisely what she wanted. “No. Send the money to Shannon until she makes up her mind about the company.”
Jenkins cocked one eyebrow. “Shannon?”
“Miss Moore.”
“Be careful, Ian, or you might find yourself falling victim to the same weakness you despised in your father.”
Ian’s lips curved up in a sardonic smile. “There are two big differences. I’m not married and I stick to women born in the same decade as me.”
He closed the file and exhaled a groan. He would not allow the minor development of his attraction to Shannon steer him from his course of action. Westervelt Properties would be returned to his grandfather, no matter what he had to do to fulfill that promise.
Shannon tossed the folder and her keys on the hall table. The one-hour train ride from New York City had given her time to regroup before trying to deal with an energetic child. After checking her mail, she walked across the small front lawn to the house next door. A row of red tulips in the window box signaled the true arrival of spring. The aroma of baking bread lingered as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Oh, Betty Crocker. Where are you?”
“Just a sec.” A moment later Wendy Sommers strolled into the room. A mop of brown curls bounced to the spring in her step. “How was the meeting?”
Shannon rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension at the base of her neck. “More interesting than I had expected.”
Her friend held up a cup. “Coffee?”
“Please.” She dropped into a chair and rested her arms on the glass tabletop. “Chelsea’s brother was there.”
“And?” Wendy prodded.
“When I met Wesley Bradford,