Janice Maynard - On Temporary Terms

“Don’t lay it on too thick, Duncan . I’ll think about it. But don’t push me. Besides, why would you want to have dinner with a snake-in-the-grass lawyer? I’m getting very mixed signals from you.”

Duncan held up his hands. “I’ll no’ mention it again. At least not for a few days. And you have a fair point. Now how about that will?”

Abby seemed relieved at the change of subject. Duncan entertained himself by watching her shift back into lawyer mode. She clicked a button on her computer, consulted a notepad, and opened a legal-size folder, muttering to herself charmingly as she did so.

He’d always been attracted to smart women. Something about their unwillingness to put up with crap from men challenged his masculinity and brought out his fighting instincts. Abby was no pushover. Though he was well aware that his arousal was not one-sided, he was not foolish enough to assume that meant an easy conquest.

If he wanted the lushly rounded lawyer in his bed, she would make him work for it. He liked that. A lot...

At last, she slid a second folder across the desk to him and opened it. “Here you go. You’ve seen an earlier version of this. One significant addition is an escape clause, if you will. After twenty-four months, if you’re unhappy and still want to go home, your grandmother has agreed to sell Stewart Properties and accompany you back to Scotland. I’ve flagged the changes and the spots where you’ll add your name. Your brother and grandmother have already signed.”

Duncan frowned. “They have?”

“Yes. Brody needed to do it before he left. Your grandmother came with him.”

“Why did no one tell me?” Duncan had a bad feeling in his gut.

“I’m telling you now.”

Duncan scanned the paragraphs of legal-speak, searching for the alterations that necessitated this visit. His heart pounded. The tiny pink “flags” denoting spots requiring his signature mocked him. Surely he wasn’t reading the document correctly. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly. “Granny told us she was leaving her company to Brody and me fifty-fifty.”

“In light of recent developments—Brody’s marriage, your relocation to America—your grandmother and your brother thought it would be only fair to change the split to eighty-twenty. You’ve given up your career and your life in Scotland. They want to make sure you don’t suffer for that decision.”

“I made the choice willingly,” he insisted. “I didn’t ask for anything in return. This is preposterous. I won’t sign it.”

“Have you met your grandmother?” Abby asked jokingly, her expression sympathetic. “I can assure you she won’t be moved on this point. Besides, you’re not getting a free ride by any means. You’ll earn your money. The company is enormous and complex. I’m told that one of the two managers is moving to the West Coast any day now to be closer to family. Your grandmother wants to be involved, but she is no longer physically capable of an intensive workday. The future success or failure of Stewart Properties will rest on your shoulders.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

“We have a saying in this country, Duncan. The buck stops here . Your decision to move to Candlewick and look after your grandmother is not going to be easy. Dealing with elderly people never is. But you’ll have the added stress of running a multimillion-dollar company, give or take a few zeroes.”

“Again, you suck at this.”

She grinned. “My job is to clarify the gray areas.”

“Consider them clarified.” Duncan felt mildly ill. “I have a strong urge to leave it all to Brody.”

“I don’t think he would take it.”

“Great. Just great.”

“Think of it as an adventure.”

He signed the requisite spots and shoved the folder away. “There. It’s done. I hope I can count on you in the weeks and months to come.”

Abby’s soft pink lips, lightly coated in gloss, opened and shut. “For legal advice?”

Duncan sat back in his chair and smiled at her, letting her see, for the very first time, the extent of his male interest. “For everything.”

* * *

Abby went through the rest of her workday in a daze. She fluctuated between excitement that Duncan Stewart had asked her out on a date and the absolute certainty that he had been joking.

Fortunately, she had dinner plans with her best friend, Lara Finch. The two of them met at Abby’s house and rode together the twenty miles to Claremont. There were places to eat in Candlewick, charming mom-and-pop establishments, plus the usual pizza joints, but for privacy and a change of scenery, it was nice to make the extra effort.

Over chicken crepes, Lara quizzed her. “Something’s up, Abby girl. Your face is all red, and you’ve barely said a word since we got here.”

“I talked in the car.”

“Correction,” Lara said. “ I talked in the car. You did a lot of listening.”

“You’re the designated driver. I’ve had a glass of wine. That’s why my neck is hot, and I’m flushed.”

“Abby!” Lara gave her a look that said she wasn’t going to be put off.

“Oh, fine. If you must know, I met a guy today.”

Lara put down her fork, leaned back in her chair and stared. Speechless.

Abby winced. “It’s not that unusual, is it?”

“The last time you mentioned a man to me was sometime around the turn of the century.”

“We didn’t even know each other at the turn of the century,” Abby pointed out dryly.

Lara picked up her fork again and waved it in the air. “I was using poetic license to make a point. This mystery man must be something special. Please tell me he has a brother. I’m currently in a bit of a dry spell myself.”

“He does,” Abby said. “But unfortunately for you, he’s already married.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.” Abby debated how much to say. If she admitted the full extent of how meeting Duncan Stewart had affected her, Lara would never let it go. “Do you know Isobel Stewart?”

“Of course. Everyone knows Miss Izzy. She has several accounts at the bank.”

Lara was a loan officer at the local financial institution, a position with a great deal of responsibility and authority in a small town. She, like Abby, found Candlewick’s pool of eligible men to be lamentably small. Not only that, but a lot of guys were put off by Lara’s cool demeanor and elegant looks. Abby’s friend had the proverbial heart of gold, but she had been known to freeze a man in his tracks if he stepped over an invisible line.

“Well, this was Miss Izzy’s grandson.”

“Brody?”

“No. He’s the one who just got married.”

“To the bookstore lady...”

“Right.”

“So there’s a brother number two?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“It’s the accent, isn’t it? I’ll bet even if he had two heads and warts, women would fall all over him.”

“Are you saying I’m shallow?”

“Don’t be defensive. Tell me why he’s so adorable and irresistible that my dearest friend is in a dither.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“A dither. A state of flustered excitement or fear.”

Well, poop. That was Abby’s exact state. “There was something about him, Lara. An intensity. Or maybe an air of danger. I’m not sure I can explain it. He was very masculine .”

Lara’s eyes rounded. She fanned herself with her napkin and took a sip of water. “So what are we going to do to make sure this very dangerously masculine man notices you?”

Abby tried not to smirk. “Not really an issue. He’s already asked me out.”

Her friend with the runway-model body and the ash-blond hair and the sapphire eyes goggled. “Seriously? It was the boobs, wasn’t it? Lord, what I wouldn’t give to have those boobs for twenty-four hours. They’re guy magnets.”