Janice Maynard - On Temporary Terms

Abby Hartmann stared at him. “ Everyone has choices, Mr. Stewart. In some instances, I might think you were in it for the money, but your grandmother has told me more than I ever needed to know about you and your brother. I’m aware that you’re extremely comfortable financially with or without your share in Stewart Properties.”

Duncan winced. “I’m guessing she also told you our father isn’t getting a dime, and she made it sound like a big deal.”

Abby gave him a small smile and nodded. “She might have mentioned it in passing. I Googled him. Your dad has a dozen thriving art galleries all over Great Britain, right? I doubt he cares about his mother’s money.”

“He and Granny have a complicated relationship. It works best when they both live on different continents.”

The lawyer grimaced, her face shadowed for a moment. “I can certainly understand that.”

Though Duncan had not wanted to come here today, he found himself willing to prolong the conversation for no other reason than to enjoy the lawyer’s company. He’d been expecting a middle-aged woman in a gray suit and glasses with precise opinions and tightly controlled behaviors. What he’d found instead was a barely five-foot-three curvy bombshell.

Maybe he had formed too many opinions of female solicitors from television and movies, but Abby Hartmann broke the mold. According to the diplomas on the wall behind her head, she appeared to be in her late twenties. She was warm and appealing, and nothing about her was rigid. Her hair was chin length and wildly curly, neither red nor blond, but an appealing amalgam of both.

She wore a black knee-length pencil skirt that showcased a rounded ass and beautiful legs that were now hidden beneath her desk. The buttons on her red shirt struggled to contain her stellar breasts. In fact, Duncan had a difficult time keeping his eyes off that tantalizing sight.

He wasn’t a Neanderthal. He respected women. Still, holy hell. Abby Hartmann was stacked. Her attire was not provocative. She had left only the first two buttons of her top undone. A tiny gold cross dangled at the upper slopes of her breasts. But that cleavage...

Moving restlessly, he cleared his throat and wished he hadn’t declined the bottle of water she had offered him earlier. “I love my grandmother, Ms. Hartmann. She and my grandfather built Stewart Properties from the ground up. In her eyes, it keeps him alive.”

“Call me Abby, please. She told me your grandfather chose to change his surname to her maiden name in order to keep the Stewart clan name going. That’s pretty extraordinary, don’t you think? Particularly for a man of his generation?”

Duncan shrugged. “They had a grand love affair, one of those you read about in books. He adored her and vice versa. From his point of view, she gave up everything for him—her family, her homeland. I suppose it was his way of saying he wanted her to have something in return.”

“I think it’s lovely.”

“But?”

“I didn’t say but...”

Duncan grinned. “I’m pretty sure I heard a but coming.”

Abby flushed. “I don’t mean to discount your grandparents’ devotion, but I doubt things like that happen anymore. The passionate love affairs. The epic gestures. The decades-long marriages.”

“You’re awfully young for such pessimism, aren’t you?”

“And you don’t know me well enough to make that judgment,” she snapped.

He blinked. The lawyer had a temper. “My apologies. We should get on with the will. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

Abby groaned audibly. “Sorry. Hot-button issue. Perhaps we could back up a step or two. And yes, we’ll go over the will, but first, one more question. If your grandmother left Scotland to settle here with your grandfather, how did you wind up a Scotsman?”

“My grandparents had only one child, my father. Dad was always fascinated with his Scottish roots. As soon as he was an adult, he moved to the Highlands and never looked back. Scotland is the only home Brody and I have ever known, except for the occasional visits here to Candlewick.”

“I know about your brother’s boating business in Skye. What did you do there?”

“I was his CFO.” He stopped and sighed. “Still am, I guess. We don’t know how long this hiatus will be. I’ve urged him to replace me permanently. It’s not fair for the business to limp along indefinitely.”

“I’m sorry. This must be a very challenging time for you.”

The genuine kindness in her soft gray eyes warmed him. For the first time in days, he believed he might survive this sea change in his life. “Not as hard as losing Grandda. That shook all of us. He was an amazing man.”

“Yes, he was. I didn’t know him well, but his reputation in Candlewick is impressive. People around here would do most anything for your grandmother. She is beloved, you know.”

“I do know. That’s one reason none of us had the heart to insist she leave. That and the fact that we would have had to pick her up bodily and carry her onto a plane kicking and screaming.”

“Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t know the half of it. When a cantankerous old Scotswoman sets her mind to something, there’s no choice but to get out of her way.”

“I don’t envy you the task of keeping her in line.” Abby smiled, her eyes alight with humor.

Duncan tried not to notice the way her breasts moved when she shifted in her chair. “Would you have dinner with me one evening?” he asked impulsively.

The lawyer stilled. The air in the room hushed. Even Duncan was momentarily abashed. He was not at all an impulsive kind of man.

Abby gnawed her lip. “I’m not sure that would be ethical.”

Duncan seized on the weakness in her argument and the fact that she hadn’t given him an unequivocal no. “You’re not my lawyer,” he said.

“Perhaps I should have been more clear from the beginning,” she replied, looking rattled and mildly alarmed. “My colleague, Mr. Chester, has been your grandparents’ lawyer for a very long time. But he’s on medical leave at the moment following serious heart surgery. I’ve been charged with handling your grandmother’s affairs in the short term. We have a client who is very interested in purchasing Stewart Properties. It’s a cash offer.”

Duncan’s cynicism kicked in, laced with a big dose of disappointment. Lawyers were snakes, every single one of them. “Not interested.”

Abby’s gaze narrowed. “It’s a very fair offer.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about it. Granny doesn’t want to sell.”

“I thought you were looking out for her best interests,” the lawyer said, a bite in her voice.

“I definitely am. So it raises a big red flag for me when her lawyers try to force her to sell a company she loves.”

“Mr. Chester cares about your grandmother’s well-being. We all do.”

“How touching.”

“Are you being intentionally rude and cynical, or does it come naturally to you? I resent having my professional ethics called into question.”

“And I resent people who try to take advantage of an old woman.”

“How does making her extremely wealthy take advantage of her?”

“Granny doesn’t need more money. She has plenty.”

“No one ever has enough money, Mr. Stewart. Trust me.”

Duncan heard something in that remark...something wounded and weary. But he chose not to pursue it at the moment. Despite his entirely logical antipathy toward lawyers and the inescapable notion that he should stay far away from this woman, he circled back to his original proposal. “Have dinner with me,” he said.

“No.”

Duncan frowned. “Think of it as community service. I’m lonely. I don’t know a single person in town other than my ancient grandmother and you. Have pity on me, Abby Hartmann. And call me Duncan. I feel as if we know each other already.”