Authors: Kate St. James
Now that lawyer mode consumed her again, though, Saturday’s events almost felt as if they’d never occurred. Did she really have the guts to take her flirtation with Jack to the next level? She’d never indulged in phone sex before—with a near-stranger, to boot. The possibility of Jack calling her for a repeat performance before their dinner date this weekend excited
and
intimidated her.
“Miss Sheridan, are you going to tell Mr. Renfrew what I said?”
“Sorry, Sammi. I was thinking about the meeting.” Tess fidgeted with the long sleeves of her summer-weight suit jacket.
Sammi glanced at her watch. “You’re doing fine.”
Tess inhaled deeply. She had to do more than fine. She needed to bedazzle the pants off Graham Halliday and his two sons. Lawrence Greenburg expected every lawyer at the firm to dispense professional and thorough legal advice, no matter their level of importance or involvement with a case. Tess’s rapidly growing fantasy life had no place at the office.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Phil,” she assured Sammi. “Office politics are tricky, but there’s a line you shouldn’t cross. That said, if Phil is making unreasonable demands on your time, I want to know about it. Maybe I could talk to him for you.”
“Thank you, but it hasn’t come to that yet. Mr. Renfrew is more of a…I don’t know if I should say this—”
“A pain?”
Sammi nodded.
Tess knew what the secretary meant. Lately, Phil was acting ultra-smug. Having joined the firm before Tess, he remained her primary competition for a partnership. After his success with a couple of big cases, he considered himself a shoe-in. His bombastic manner didn’t sit well with the secretaries, and eventually his limitations would become apparent to the upper brass.
When that happened, she’d be ready, her reputation for diligence and enthusiasm preceding her. She’d snatch a partnership out from under Phil Renfrew’s stubby little nose.
She smiled at Sammi. “If you ever do have a problem with Phil or another associate, please come to me. As long as it’s a valid grievance, we’ll work through it.”
“I will, Miss Sheridan. Thank you.”
Sammi preceded her out of the office, and Tess headed for the conference room. The Halliday acquisition was her ticket to the big league. She couldn’t screw up.
She rapped on the door before entering. Lawrence Greenburg, a burly man in his mid-fifties, adjusted the lapels of his navy blue suit and rose to greet her. “Teresa. Ever so prompt. I appreciate it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Greenburg.” They shook hands.
“Please, call me Lawrence. Given the circumstances, we can drop the Greenburg.”
“Okay…Lawrence.” Pleasure filled her. At her level, progressing to a first-name basis with the firm’s founder was cause for celebration.
Lawrence glanced behind her. “Is Philip with you?”
“No, but he’ll be along shortly.”
Her boss nodded. “Zachary is running late, as well. I’ll introduce you to the others while we wait.”
With a touch to her elbow, Lawrence directed her toward the oak conference table. Virginia Winslow—a senior partner in her mid-forties with impeccable style and a pleasant manner—sat across from two men wearing similar gray suits. The oldest man had to be Graham Halliday. Tess recognized his intelligent blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair from the photograph adorning the latest Halliday Enterprises annual report.
Lawrence introduced the younger man as Ethan, Graham’s eldest son. With his light brown hair, lean features and several extra inches of height, Ethan Halliday didn’t look much like his father. Both men rose to shake her hand.
“Ethan, it’s a pleasure meeting you,” Tess said.
“Likewise.” Angling her a puzzled look, he sat down.
Her neck prickled. Had she smeared her lipstick? Left croissant crumbs on her suit? But she couldn’t have. Sammi would have warned her.
Nerves swarming, Tess pulled her files out of her briefcase and busied herself organizing papers while Lawrence, Graham and Virginia discussed a rezoning bylaw currently before city council. Then Phil arrived, and introductions began anew. Meanwhile, Ethan kept glancing surreptitiously at her. However, not like a man might check out a woman he found attractive. Instead, he subtly examined her, as if he were trying to place her.
As if they’d met somewhere before.
They hadn’t, though. While the annual report featured his name but not his picture, in person Ethan Halliday was too handsome to forget. In a way, he resembled Jack Halloran, except Jack had broader shoulders and darker brown eyes. Ethan’s mouth held a serious tilt, whereas Jack’s friendly grin lit his entire face. Graham uttered a remark, and Tess glanced over.
Interesting, Graham’s wide smile reminded her of Jack’s.
She gave her head a firm shake. Now she was comparing a sixty-year-old man to Jack Halloran? What was wrong with her? Her weekend adventures in the tub had imprinted the studmuffin on her brain.
Stomach cramping, she reached for the crystal pitcher and poured herself a glass of ice water. Her first sip did nothing to curb her sudden anxiety.
Should she excuse herself, pretend she’d left a vital piece of information in her office and needed to retrieve it? She’d use the time to pull herself together, to forget Jack Halloran existed, at least for now. Within the walls of Greenburg & Associates, she
was
Teresa Sheridan. Tess S.—her Jack-obsessed alter ego—had to take a hike.
Formulating her excuse, she stood. The conference room door swished open behind her.
“Sorry I’m late,” a deep male voice boomed. “What did I miss?”
Heart racing, she turned. The hunk of burnin’ love she’d met in Danver’s smiled at her.
Now she was hallucinating?
She blinked.
He was still there.
“J-Jack?”
Tess S. Miss Strawberry Surprise. Teresa Sheridan.
Three handles, all the same woman. Would wonders never cease?
Relaxing in his chair, Zach fought a smile. Tess—make that Teresa—sat across the table, her prim nose buried in the Crockett’s documents to which L.G. had referred. Her hair swept back from her temples to form a narrow, elegant ponytail that hung over her loose, red-blonde waves. Whenever she leaned forward, several strands drifted onto the front of her light purple business suit, and she’d push them back.
“I think it looks pretty good, Lawrence,” she answered L.G. in the composed manner she’d adopted since Zach had breezed in on a high from scouting locations for the rock-climbing center he wanted to open.
His own business. Damn, he loved the way that sounded.
“Once we factor in Ethan’s suggestions for a management-style overhaul, the projections appear quite favorable.” Teresa glanced up and passed her poised gaze from Lawrence to Zach’s father to Ethan.
To everyone but him.
Zach had to hand it to her—she’d quickly recovered from her surprise when he’d entered the conference room. Initially, she’d fumbled by calling him Jack, but L.G. had been talking to his father and hadn’t noticed.
“Of course, there remains the due diligence to consider,” she said. “One never knows what might turn up.”
“What skeletons we might encounter, eh, Teresa?” L.G.’s hearty tone conveyed pride in his protégée.
Zach’s mouth quirked. He’d known L.G. for years. He still remembered the overflowing bowl of gumballs displayed in the big guy’s office when Zach and Ethan were kids. When their mother died, L.G. and his wife provided much-needed solace to their grief-stricken father. And to them. “The Halliday Boys”—their father’s catchphrase for the family once their mother was gone—had shared many Sunday dinners with the Greenburgs over the years.
What would L.G. think of cool, collected Teresa Sheridan in her seductive guise as Tess S.? Not that Zach intended to betray her secrets to her boss. After all, he didn’t qualify for sainthood himself, and he remained foggy on the extent of those secrets. However, this latest turn of events fueled his determination to unearth every mysterious detail about her.
Gaze riveted to her face, he crossed his arms over his golf shirt. Patches of color flared on her cheeks, and her fingers twitched on the papers.
Zach’s grin emerged in full force.
Ah, fate.
He’d hoped to encounter Teresa Sheridan today. Teresa Sheridan, the hungry, young
lawyer
. On a friend’s advice, he’d planned to seek her advice about incorporating his business. However, never in his wildest dreams had he anticipated the workaholic his good buddy Rob had recommended was the same husky-voiced temptress who’d come undone with him over the phone.
Or that she’d attend
this
meeting.
“The marketing strategy needs to change substantially,” she continued. “The customer base is healthy, but Crockett’s is no longer reaching them.” She looked at his father. “There’s a lot of work to do here, Graham, but the benefits of the deal far outweigh the drawbacks.”
Zach’s father nodded then glanced at him. “What do you think, son? Would targeting different demographics help?”
“Huh?” Shit, he’d lost the thread of the conversation. No biggie. He’d rather watch Tess’s lips move than stress over what she was saying.
Tess. Yeah.
No way could he keep thinking of her as Teresa.
His father sighed. “You could try paying attention, Zach. I asked you to join us today because I value your input. Hefner Crockett likes you. Perhaps, during one of your conversations, he’s revealed an item or two which might help us determine how best to proceed.”
“You mean, did ol’ Hef disclose one of those skeletons L.G. mentioned while we were playing golf?”
Disapproving lines formed on Tess’s forehead. The spit-and-polished Phil Renfrew, sitting to her left, appeared even less impressed. The guy reminded Zach of a chipmunk, smug at times, furtive at others. The furtive moments occurred when Tess was showing him up.
Zach straightened in his chair. “Actually, Hef touched on a few things. No skeletons, though. Sorry to disappoint you.” For no particular reason, he directed this last to Renfrew. Call him tactless, but he liked watching the guy bristle. “From what I can tell, Hef has a difficult time with change. He runs his business the same way he plays golf. He balks at learning anything new, even if it could help him. Take the name of the chain, for instance. Crockett’s Fine Foods sounds like something from the 1950s. But has Hef dropped the ‘Fine Foods’ and tried to market as just ‘Crockett’s’? Nope.”
Virginia Winslow nodded. “I used to shop at the Burnaby store, but the location has become inconvenient.”
“Exactly. Big boxes move in, neighborhoods change, malls lose their anchors. Unless it’s Crockett’s. Hef is loyal to a fault. He’ll stay at a location even while it’s choking his business to death.” Zach looked at Tess, then Renfrew. “Keep that in mind when you examine the leases. How easily could Halliday break them? A grocery store chain should appeal to everyone. Families, professionals, senior citizens. This is food, people, not a buffet spread at some country club. Hef limits the company’s growth by catering to the silk-and-pearls set when he should focus on soccer moms.”
His father nodded. “You’re in agreement with Ethan, then.”
Zach glanced at his brother, who shrugged and smiled.
“I guess,” Zach replied.
“Then the supermarket chain interests you?” his father asked.
“As much as any other facet of the corporation does.” Which was to say, not at all. Dad knew that, too. Or he should. They’d played variations on this game for years: What Will It Take To Reel Zach In?
The answer: nada. He wasn’t reelable.
Zach loved his father, but the man could be controlling.
Fortunately, once Zach opened Climbing The Walls, he’d have concrete proof of his ability to succeed on his own, and his days of going through the motions for Halliday Enterprises would be over.
His father would have no choice but to accept what Zach had tried to get him to understand for years.
Again, his father nodded. “We’ll proceed,” he said to L.G.
“Excellent. We’ll draft the letter of intent while your accountants finish the financials.”
The conversation faded to small talk, and the meeting disbanded. As Tess pushed back her chair, her lips pursed like a librarian scolding a disruptive child.
She zapped Zach a critical glance, and he grinned.
Bring it on, babe.
Rather than turning him off, the sight of her disapproving mouth and censorious gaze inspired fantasies of hauling her to a deserted office and licking the prissy decorum from every inch of her body. She might have hoodwinked L.G. with her stuffy, dedicated-lawyer shtick, but she couldn’t fool Zach. The woman who’d hit on him in Danver’s and participated in risqué phone calls lurked somewhere deep within uptight Teresa Sheridan.
And he intended to find her.
“Tess!”
Heart pounding, Tess ignored the man swiftly advancing behind her and continued her escape down the hall leading away from the conference room.
Leave me alone
, she willed him, humiliation driving her annoyance—at herself, at him, however illogical the latter reaction might be.
She knew she and only she was responsible for her behavior, both in Danver’s and on the phone. However, had he needed to push home the point during the meeting, reminding her of her recklessness and further embarrassing her with every amused glance sent her way, every knowing smile, and…and that air of cocky confidence?
“Tess!”
Chin high, she increased her pace, skirt swishing her legs. She trained her gaze on the secretarial pool up ahead, which opened to the right of the junior associate offices.
Her
office. Her sanctuary.
Not much farther.
She could make it.
“Damn it, Tess, slow down. I want to talk to you.”
Too bad. Because she wasn’t stopping.
His footsteps sounded on the thick carpet. He practically breathed down her neck. “Teresa.”
Nice try. Didn’t the imbecile realize when he was getting the brush-off?
Zach Halliday’s hand grazed her arm, the contact searing her skin through her suit jacket. Tension curled within her, mingled with an irritating warmth and an even more aggravating leap of sexual excitement.