Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (51 page)

As Betty walked away to accomplish the tasks Savannah had given her, a small measure of hope filled Savannah. Maybe she could do this, after all—turn the company around and lead it the way it needed to be led. It was only one task, but it was a big step in the right direction.

The door to the plant opened. Savannah turned and saw Mac lit from behind by the midday sun. It outlined his tall, lean figure, made the jeans and boots look even more dangerous. His dark hair was a little mussed from the ride, and she ached to run her fingers through the wavy locks.

Damn. Why did he have to look so good? And why did her heart still skip a beat at the sight of him? He was all wrong for her—even if her body disagreed.

Instead of heading toward him, she took the coward's way out, spinning on her heel and ducking into the staircase. With any luck, he hadn't seen her.

Before she reached the second floor, she heard a heavier tread coming up the staircase behind her. Mac. Damn. He
had
seen her.

He took the stairs two at a time and caught up to her a few seconds later. “Hey, you have a second?”

She turned and stopped on the staircase, one hand on the cold metal railing, her back against the concrete block wall. A part of her wanted to say no, she had no time for the man who had broken her heart the day before, but the other part, the masochistic part, wanted to see what he had to say. If he was going to say,
I'm sorry, I was an idiot, let's try this again.
“Sure.”

“I, uh, need to talk to you about the ordering process for the brackets. I think I found a supplier who is much cheaper, but requires more lead time for production. What's your drop-dead turnaround on something like that?”

Work. That was all he wanted to talk about. Why was she surprised? Everything she'd read or heard about Mac Barlow had said he worked nonstop and had almost zero personal life. Those brief snippets of time working at the beach house and then again in the bedroom must have been a blip, an anomaly. Her heart fractured a little more.

“You know, this really isn't a good time,” Savannah said. At least she'd said it without dissolving into a crying mess. “I'm just heading out for lunch.”

“Great. I'll go with you and we can—”

“No, Mac, we can't. You may be able to easily divide work and personal, but—big surprise—it turns out I can't. So, let's just work separately today. I need...time and space.” She turned and headed up the next flight, then pressed on the door to the fourth floor. She didn't need anything to eat or drink, she just wanted to get away from him and took the closest exit toward that.

Instead of reading her mind, Mac followed her into the break room. It was the middle of the workday, so the room was empty, dim, quiet. Leaving the two of them alone.

“Listen, Savannah, I know I didn't end things in the best way yesterday.”

She spun around. “Didn't end them in the best way? That's an understatement.”

“Business is separate from personal to me,” he said. “And, yes, maybe that wasn't the best time to bring up buying the company, so I apologize for that.”

“Your mind is
always
on work, Mac. I'm surprised you didn't try to apply lean manufacturing to our lovemaking. Maybe work on your laptop while we were together.” The sarcasm whipped off her tongue at a record pace. But she didn't care. She just wanted him to back away, leave her alone. Quit breaking her heart.

“You really think I'm that bad?”

She took two steps closer to him. “I think you're a whiz at business. That all your success is right within those spreadsheets and reports and plans you love so much. But I think when it comes to personal relationships, you've struck out, and so instead of actually forming a relationship, you retreat to work. Your safety zone.”

He shook his head. “That's not true.”

“Oh, yeah? Then tell me, how long did anything personal last between us? Twenty minutes? Thirty?”

“This is different, Savannah. We are working at saving this business together, and that is not personal. Not at all.”

She shook her head and cursed the tears that sprang to her eyes. “That man over there—” she pointed to the picture of her father, the one that seemed to stare back at her with hope and trust that she wouldn't screw this up “—believed that business was personal. He had hundreds of friends. Dozens of people who loved him. Who mourn his passing. And even if I sell Hillstrand Solar to you and you tear down the building and wipe away any trace that it ever existed, people will still mourn. Because they loved
him
, not a business.”

Mac took in her words, spent a second digesting them. “Then why are you trying so hard to save this place?”

“Because this business was a part of him and it's—” she sucked in a shaky breath “—it's the only way I have to hold on to him. To keep the promise I made to him before he died.”

“I understand promises,” Mac said quietly.

“Do you? Do you really? Because it seems to me all you understand is dollars and cents.”

“Before you start condemning me,” Mac said, taking a step closer, invading her space, “ask yourself this. Are you running this place because you want to, because it's the right thing to do, or because you're too afraid to let it go and strike out on your own?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Those houses. I drove by a couple of the ones you restored. They were absolutely beautiful. You did an incredible job, and it showed in every shingle, every windowpane. Because you were passionate about that—because that was personal to you.”

“What do you care?” Why was he driving by the houses? Giving her such a hard time? He wasn't part of her life or her future. He'd made that clear. “None of this is personal to you, Mac. None of it. And is that what you want to leave behind? A bunch of bottom lines and lean manufacturing reports? Or do you want to make a difference in people's lives, really get to know them? Make it personal?”

He shook his head. “That isn't part of business.”

“You're wrong,” she said. “It's part of everything. Or it is for me.”

Then she walked out of the room before the tears spilled over and onto her cheeks, and let him know how very personal all this had become in a few short days. How she had fallen for him in a big, big way. It was those silly baby birds and the moment on the roof and that kiss—all those moments that had stacked up in her mind and in her heart and told her she was dangerously close to the edge of falling in love with the man who ultimately wanted to take away her father's dream.

Instead of going back to her office, Savannah got in her car and headed for her mother's house. It was a sunny day, and as she turned the corner to the small house where she'd grown up, she expected to see the same sight she had seen for the past few months—the flowers on the walk wilting in the sun, the house buttoned up and shades drawn, her mother somewhere inside that darkness.

Instead, she saw Grace Lee on her hands and knees, her floppy straw gardening hat shading her face, while she dug in the earth of the front yard and planted annuals in the beds. Her mother turned at the sound of the car in the drive, then got to her feet to welcome her daughter. “Savannah! What a lovely surprise.”

She drew her mother into a tight hug. It had been a couple weeks since she'd been here, because she'd been so caught up in work. But now she noticed her mother's eyes were brighter, her skin flushed with color. “You look good, Mom. I'm glad you're outside today, working in the yard.”

“I thought it was about time,” Grace Lee said softly. “Don't you?”

Savannah hugged her mother again, and this time, let the tears in her eyes spill over. All those months her mother had withdrawn from life, mourning the husband who had been her best friend. For months, it had been as though Savannah lost two parents. No matter what Savannah said or did, Grace Lee had stayed in her darkened house. That had been a big reason why Savannah had started working on the beach house, thinking if that was fixed, maybe she could get her mother interested in going back there. But now her mother had pulled herself out of that pit. It warmed Savannah's heart. “Yes, yes, I do.”

Grace Lee drew back and swiped away the dampness on Savannah's cheeks. “Oh, honey. Don't cry. Come on inside. Let's have some cookies and milk.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “Mom, I'm not five anymore.”

“I know. But you look like you had a bad day, and nothing helps a bad day more than cookies and milk, no matter how old you are.”

Savannah laughed. “You are right about that.”

Grace Lee dropped her gardening hat on a bench by the front door as they went into the house and down the hall to the cozy kitchen. A plate of fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies sat on the table. The scent of chocolate filled the air, and Savannah grabbed the biggest cookie off the top of the pile. She sank her teeth into the soft, chewy dessert and her mouth watered. Delicious. Her mother had used her grandmother's secret recipe. “These are awesome, Mom.”

“Thanks. I've been busy the last few days.” She poured two glasses of milk, then sat across from her daughter.

“So...what happened?” Savannah asked.

Grace Lee shrugged. “I just woke up one day and realized that your father would never want me to lie in that dark bedroom, day after day, missing him. I started small. Just cleaning the house, then I moved on to baking, and then today, I went and bought the flowers to plant. It's not much, but—”

Savannah's hand covered her mother's. “It's a lot. I'm so glad for you.”

“Thank you.” Grace Lee's eyes were watery but her smile was strong. The two shared a long moment, hands clasped, a renewed sense of hope filling the kitchen. “Now, tell me all about you. How is it going at the company?”

“Good.”

Grace Lee cocked her head. “Your voice says the opposite.”

Savannah sighed. “It's been tough, Mom. I'm doing my best, and Mac Barlow is helping me. Sort of.”

Savannah had told her mother all about Mac back when he'd made his first offer, and kept her in the loop in the months since. They'd discussed Mac's offer on the business ad nauseam. Her mother had always said it was Savannah's choice, though Savannah could see that the thought of selling off Hillstrand Solar made her sad.

When Savannah told her mother that Mac had been working at Hillstrand for the past few days, Grace made a little face. “I thought he wanted to buy the company.”

“I talked him into helping me for a week to get Hillstrand Solar back on track. He's had some great ideas to reduce waste and increase productivity.” And already Savannah could see the changes helping. Not in huge ways, but she knew these little things were going to add up quickly to better cash flow and a smoother operation. And less stress for Savannah.

“So the company is doing well again?” her mother asked.

“It's getting there, but yes. I've got confidence in the future.”

“And how about you? How are you doing?”

“I'm fine, Mom.” Except for that little broken heart thing today. Okay, so maybe it wasn't so little, and maybe she was still sitting on the edge of a sob fest, but she'd get over that. Eventually.

“I meant how are you doing in the job?” Grace Lee's fingers intertwined with her daughter's. “I know your father asked you to take over, but really, honey, that was too much to put on you.”

“It's fine. I'm fine.”

“You say that enough times, I might even believe you.” A soft smile stole across her mother's face. It was the kind of smile only a mother could have. The kind that said she understood and saw past all the little lies Savannah was telling herself. “You don't have to do this. We can find someone else to run your father's company, and let you do what makes you happy.”

Savannah shook her head. “I promised Dad. It was the last thing he asked of me.”

“I know that. But it was wrong of him to do so.” Grace Lee put up a hand before Savannah could argue. “Your father was a wonderful man, and I loved him dearly. But he loved that company just as much, if not more. And he asked that of you, knowing it wasn't what you wanted. Because he knew you wouldn't say no.”

“Mom, we had this conversation—”

“And we're having it again, because you keep dismissing me. I think your father always hoped you'd love that company as much as he did. But you don't.”

Savannah let out a long sigh. “No. I don't.”

Finally saying the words, admitting the truth, filled her with a relief that went bone deep. She'd gone too long pretending to be something she wasn't, and at least here, with the cookies and milk and her mother's kind, understanding eyes, she could be honest.

“Then stop doing it.”

“It's not that simple, Mom. If I step down, who's going to run the company? And if no one runs it, then I have to sell to Mac Barlow. He's just going to split it up and sell it again. And all those people will lose their jobs.”

Grace Lee sighed. Then her face wrinkled in a bittersweet smile. “I wish your father was here. He'd know what to do.”

“Yes, he would.” That was the irony in the moment, that the one person who knew what to do had died and, in doing so, had created this conundrum. Her father would step in and take over, doing whatever it took to keep Hillstrand running and keep his “family” employed. But when she looked at herself, had she really committed like she should have? She'd let herself get distracted by the beach house, by her own wants and needs. Instead of what was important. Savannah got to her feet and gave her mother a hug. “Thanks, Mom.”

“For what?”

“For the cookies—” Savannah plucked three more off the plate “—and the advice. I know what to do now.”

Grace Lee put a hand on Savannah's arm. “Do what makes you happy. That's what your father would really want.”