Gorgeous Grooms: Her Stand-In Groom / Her Wish-List Bridegroom / Ordinary Girl, Society Groom. Jackie Braun
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arrived with Stephen’s coffee and took their lunch orders, giving Catherine time to mentally prepare the rest of her pitch.
“Recently we received a grant that will cover most of the repair costs for the boiler, so now the roof is our number one priority. It began leaking in the spring, and we had some patching done, but the contractor told us the entire thing should be replaced.”
“Roofs can be very expensive.”
Catherine cleared her throat and took a sip of her ice water. “Yes, very. Especially on an old building whose structural integrity could be compromised if repairs aren’t made soon.”
“Which brings us to the point of our lunch meeting, I presume?” He smiled, but his eyes remained unreadable.
“We’re hoping Danbury’s can help us with a monetary donation that will cover part or all of the roof repairs. I’ll personally make sure press releases are sent to the Tribune and Sun-Times, as well as local televisions stations. I’ve received three estimates from reputable contractors.” She pulled papers from her slim leather case and handed them to him.
“You’ve done your homework.”
“I try to be prepared.”
He glanced up, his gaze steady. “I enjoy a woman who’s prepared.”
Nothing in his inscrutable expression revealed whether the double entendre was intentional, but Catherine felt her face grow warm.
“May I keep these?”
When she nodded, he folded the papers and tucked them into his breast pocket without another word.
“You don’t need to make a decision right now,” she said.
“I didn’t plan to.” He shifted forward in his seat, leaning over the small table. “Can I ask you something personal, Catherine?”
Her pulse hitched. “Yes.”
She realized that she had leaned forward as well when she felt his warm breath on her face as he said, “Why didn’t you ever ask Derek about this? He was your fiancé, after all. Talk about a trump card.”
She leaned back. “I did. Twice.”
Stephen’s dark eyebrows shot up. “He never mentioned it to me.”
“He kept saying he’d get back to me.” She gazed at the linen napkin that lay in twisted heap in her lap. “I don’t think he took my work seriously.”
“Tonto,” he muttered.
“If I’m remembering correctly from my high school Spanish class, you just called Derek a fool.”
His use of the word surprised Catherine. Not many people resorted to a foreign language to issue an insult. Nonetheless, she enjoyed her first relaxed smile in more than an hour. Stephen, however, didn’t smile. There was nothing teasing or relaxed about his dark gaze when it connected with hers.
“You’re a woman to be taken seriously.”
They were simple words, issued as a simple statement, and they left her simply staggered.
Late on Friday afternoon, Stephen studied the estimates Catherine had given him as he waited for his cousin to arrive. It was ten to five, and he planned to spend the weekend on his sailboat, so he hoped Derek wouldn’t be late.
It surprised him that Derek had formally requested a meeting, and at this time of day besides. His cousin’s weekend generally started on Thursday and lasted till Tuesday. And if he wanted to see Stephen he usually just barged into his office unannounced, flattering his way around his secretary if Stephen had asked not to be disturbed. But this time he’d sent word a day in advance, neatly typed on company stationary, no less, that he would like to meet in Stephen’s office at five o’clock Friday. He had ensured Stephen’s attendance by dangling this intriguing little carrot: he wanted to discuss the future of the company.
Stephen hadn’t thought his cousin cared about the department store chain their grandfather’s father had founded as much as he cared about the trust fund that kept him in designer suits and Swiss Alps ski vacations. When their grandfather had died two years earlier, he’d left Stephen at the helm of the faltering chain, with Derek second in command. Derek’s title was officially vice president, but he generally left the day-to-day operations and all of the crucial decisionmaking to Stephen and the rest of the management team. He was no intellectual lightweight, but he’d made it clear he wanted the Danbury lifestyle far more than the burden of the legacy.
Stephen closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off the headache that was already threatening. The truth was that the struggling department store chain might not be able to ensure Derek’s lavish spending much longer without a major turnaround. Marguerite had been making noise about selling in recent months. So far Stephen had been able to block the move. Admittedly, it went beyond pure business for him. He was not about to give up the birthright he was still striving to prove to his dead grandfather he was entitled to.
He figured this meeting would probably be an attempt by Derek to wheedle him around to a sale, so he wasn’t surprised when his cousin walked through the door followed by Marguerite. What did surprise him, though, was that they had brought with them the Danburys’ longtime family attorney, Lyle Moore.
Stephen sent his aunt a polite smile and motioned toward the small conference table tucked into the corner of his office. Turning to Lyle, he said, “This is unexpected. I didn’t know you were coming by today.”
The man who had handled everything from Derek’s prenuptial agreement to the cousins’ trust funds barely spared him a glance. He seemed uncomfortable, nervous, even, and when he finally offered a hand its palm was damp and clammy.
“Can I get anyone a drink?” Stephen asked.
The attorney shook his balding head, and Marguerite declined as well, but Derek flashed a cocky grin. “I’ll take one. To celebrate.”
Warning bells were going off in Stephen’s head, though he couldn’t figure out why. But the malicious amusement in Derek’s light eyes made him wary.
“You know where it is.”
Derek poured himself a brandy at the bar discreetly tucked behind a door in the paneled wall. When he was lounging in his seat, swirling amber liquid in a snifter, Lyle unsnapped the flaps of the overstuffed leather case balanced on his knees and pulled out a document.
He cleared his throat and began, “You’ve seen this before, of course.”
“Grandfather’s will.” Stephen’s stomach knotted.
“Then you know what Sunday is.”
“Sunday?”
“It’s your birthday,” Derek supplied, his grin reminiscent of a shark’s. “I never forget it because it comes just one day before mine.”
The attorney cleared his throat a second time, and flipped through the papers he’d laid on the table before him.
“Um, as you know, since you are the oldest, your grandfather left you the controlling interest in Danbury’s when he died two years ago, with Derek and his mother’s portion totaling forty-nine percent of the assets.”
“I believe we covered this at the time, Lyle.”
“Yes, but the terms of the…um…codicil have not been met.”
“Codicil? There was no codicil.”
The lawyer ignored him and went on. “Your grandfather felt since you boys were born only one day apart—and you had come a few weeks premature, Stephen—he should make things a little more fair for Derek.”
Stephen almost laughed aloud. Fair? His grandfather had always shown a preference for Derek, who looked so much like a Danbury should look, with his golden hair and sky-colored eyes. Stephen favored his mother, a sticking point with the