The Man Behind the Pinstripes. Melissa Mcclone
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woman was likely a con artist looking to turn this consulting gig into a big pay off. She could be stealing when Grams wasn’t paying attention. Maybe a heist of artwork and jewelry and silver was in the works. His wealthy family had always been a target of people wanting to take advantage of them. People like Cassandra. Grams could be in real danger.
Sure, Becca looked more like a college student than a scammer. Especially wearing a “No outfit is complete without dog hair” T-shirt and jean shorts that showed off long, smooth, thoroughbred legs.
She had great legs. He’d give her that.
But looks could be deceiving. He’d fallen for Cassandra and her glamorous façade.
Not that Becca was glamorous.
With her short, pixie-cut brown hair and no makeup she was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. If he’d ever had a next-door neighbor whose house wasn’t separated by acres of land, high fences and security cameras.
But Becca wasn’t all rainbows and apple pie.
Her blue eyes, tired and hardened and wary, contradicted her youthful appearance. She wasn’t innocent or naïve. Definitely not one of the princess types he’d known at school or the social climbers he knew around town. There was an edge to her he couldn’t quite define, and that … intrigued him.
Worried him, too.
He didn’t want anyone taking advantage of Grams.
Speaking of which, he faced his grandmother. “It’s not going to work.”
Grams glanced up from the dogs. The five animals worshipped at her feet as if she were a demigod or a large slice of bacon dressed in pink. “What’s not going to work, dear?”
A smile tugged on the corners of Becca’s mouth, as if she were amused by the situation.
Caleb pressed his lips together. He didn’t like her.
Any consultant with an ounce of integrity would have taken his side on this. But what did he expect from a woman who wore sports sandals with neon-orange-and-green toenail polish to work? He bet she was covered with tattoos and piercings beneath her clothing.
Sexy images of her filled his mind.
Focus.
He rocked back on his heels. “If you partner with one of Fair Face’s competitors, the media will turn this into a firestorm. Imagine how the employees will react. You’re the creative influence behind our products. How will you reconcile what you do for one company with the other?”
“Animal products for them. Human products for Fair Face.” A sheepish grin formed on Grams’s lips. “It was only a thought.”
A dog tried to get his attention, first rubbing against Caleb’s leg then staring up at him. Seemed as if everyone was giving him the soulful-puppy-look today. “A ploy.”
Grams tsked. “I can’t believe you think I’d resort to such a tactic.”
Yeah, right. Caleb remembered looking at what colleges to attend and Grams’s reaction. Naval Academy, too dangerous. Harvard, too far. Cal Berkeley, too hippy. She’d steered him right where she’d wanted him—Stanford, her alma mater. “I’m sure you’d resort to worse to get your way.”
That earned him a grin from Becca.
Glad someone found this entertaining. Though she had a nice smile, one that made him think of springtime and fresh flowers. An odd thought given he had little time to enjoy the outdoors these days. Maybe it was because they were outside.
“I shouldn’t have to resort to anything,” Grams said. “You promised your grandfather you’d take care of us.”
Something Caleb would never forget.
That promise was directing the course of his life. For better or worse given his grandmother, his sister, Fair Face and the employees were now his responsibility. He grimaced. “I’m taking care of you the best way I know how.”
Grams rubbed a gray dog named Blue, but she didn’t say a word.
He knew this trick, using silence to make him give in, the way his grandfather had capitulated in the past. But Caleb couldn’t surrender. “Grams—”
“Gertie, didn’t you mention the other day how busy Fair Face keeps your grandson?” Becca interrupted. “It might be better to find someone else to help us, since Caleb is so busy.”
Whoa. Becca wanted to be his ally?
That sent Caleb’s hinky-meter shooting into the red zone. No one was that nice to a total stranger. She must want him out of the way so she could run her scam in peace.
“Good idea,” he said, playing along. Maybe he could catch Becca in a lie or trip her up somehow. “I’m not sure I’d have a few minutes to spare until the baby product line launches, if then. You know how it is.”
“Yes, I do.” Grams tapped her fingers against her chin. “But I like keeping things in the family.”
So much for taking her formulas to a competitor. “You wouldn’t want me to ignore the company, would you?”
His grandmother’s gaze narrowed as if zooming in on a target—him. “Who’s trying to guilt who now?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”
“Maybe Caleb knows someone who can help us,” Becca said.
He would rather his grandmother drop this whole thing, but once Grams saw what starting her own business entailed, she would decide retirement was a better alternative. He would get someone he trusted to advise them, someone to keep an eye on Becca, someone to steer his grandmother properly. Caleb would still be in control, by proxy. “I’m happy to give you a few names. I know one person who would be a good fit.”
“I suppose it’s worth a try,” Gertie said.
“Definitely worth a try.” Enthusiasm filled Becca’s voice. “We can do this.”
We? Us? Caleb straightened. Becca acted more like a partner. He needed to talk to his grandmother about what sort of contract she had with her “consultant.” Something about Becca bothered him. She had to be up to no good. “I’ll text you the names and numbers, Grams.”
“Send Becca the list. As you said, I’m a chemist not a businesswoman.”
“Will do.” Caleb glanced at his watch, bent and kissed his grandmother’s cheek. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I need to get back to the office.”
Grams grabbed hold of his hand. Her thin fingers dug into his skin. “You can’t leave. You haven’t had any cake.”
The carrot cake. Caleb had forgotten, but he couldn’t forget the pile of work waiting for him on his desk. He checked his watch again.
“Gertie baked the carrot cake herself. You need to try a piece.” Becca’s voice sounded lighthearted, but her pointed look contained a clear warning. Caleb had better stay if he knew what was good for him.
Interesting. The consultant was being protective of his grandmother. Usually that was his job. Becca’s concern could be genuine or a ruse—most likely the latter—but she was correct about one thing. Eating a slice of cake wouldn’t take that long. No reason to keep disappointing Grams. He could also use the opportunity to ask his grandmother for more information about her dog consultant.
Caleb placed his arm around his grandmother. “I’d love a piece of your cake and a glass of iced tea.”
Dogs raced around Becca, jumping and barking and chasing balls. She stood in the center of the lawn while Gertie went into the house to have Mrs. Harrison prepare the refreshments.
Playing with the dogs was more fun than sitting with Caleb on the patio. Becca saw no reason to make idle chitchat with a man eager to eat his cake and