Prodigal Son (3 page)

“This is Charlie,” Jack said. “Do you like dogs?”

Samantha held out her fingers for Charlie to sniff, then petted him. “I love them.” She crouched down in front of Charlie and rubbed his shoulders. “Who’s a handsome guy?” she asked, then laughed as he tried to lick her face.

“He likes you,” Jack said. “Smart dog.”

She laughed. “Okay, now I
really
want to have dinner with you. Come on in.”

She led the way to the kitchen, where Jack opened the wine and she collected plates for their dinner. As she opened the bags and began pulling out cartons of food, she noticed a bright red plastic bowl and a box with a big
C
on it.

“This is interesting,” she said, holding up both.

Jack grinned sheepishly. “They’re for Charlie. He loves Chinese, so the place I go mixes up a special rice dish for him. It’s beef and chicken, rice, vegetables, light on the salt and spices. He loves it and the vet approves. It’s kind of a special treat.”

Samantha did her best to reconcile the straitlaced lawyer she knew Jack to be with a guy who would special order food for his dog.

“Now I know who’s really in charge,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Jack said easily. “He’s the boss.”

He helped her carry the cartons to the table. Charlie was served, but he waited until they sat down before digging in to his dinner.

Jack held out his glass of wine. “Welcome to the neighborhood. I hope you like it.”

“Thank you.” They touched glasses, then she took a sip of the red wine. “Very nice. All of this.”

“No problem. I thought you might still be feeling out of place.”

“Some. I like the apartment, but it’s weird because nothing in here is mine. Like these plates.” She held up the plain cream plate. “I would never have bought these.”

“Too normal?”

“Too boring. Color is our friend.”

“Agreed. But you’ll get settled, then you can find a place of your own.”

“I know. But for now, this is great. They make it very convenient.”

Jack passed her the honey-glazed shrimp. “That’s why I’m here. Dry cleaning right downstairs. The corner grocery store delivers. The dog walker lives across the street. There are over twenty restaurants in a five-block square around here and a great park close by where Charlie and I hang out on weekends.”

She glanced at the dog, who had finished his dinner and was now sniffing the floor for rice grains he might have missed. “He’s beautiful. But doesn’t he need exercise and attention? You’re a guy who works long hours.”

“He’s fine,” Jack said. “Is it quiet enough here for you? That’s the first thing I noticed when I moved in. How quiet it was. Good construction.”

She started to agree, then realized he had not-so-subtly changed the subject. “It’s great,” she said. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“About Charlie. You changed the subject.”

“From what?”

“How he gets through the day without tearing up your place.”

“He keeps busy.”

Jack looked uncomfortable. She glanced from him to the dog. “What? He watches soaps and does a crossword puzzle?”

Jack sighed. “He goes to day care, okay? I know, I know. It’s silly, but he has a lot of energy and border collies are herding dogs. I didn’t want him alone and bored all the time so three days a week he goes to doggy day care. There he plays with the other dogs and herds them around. He comes home so tired that on Tuesdays and Thursdays he pretty much just sleeps. I have a dog walker who comes by twice a day to take him out.”

The muscles in his jaw tensed slightly as he spoke. She could tell he hadn’t wanted to share that part of his life with her.

She did her best not to smile or laugh—he would take that wrong—not realizing that women would find a big, tough, successful guy who cared that much about his dog pretty appealing.

“You’re a responsible pet owner,” she said. “Some people aren’t.”

He narrowed his gaze, as if waiting for a slam. She smiled innocently, then changed the subject.

After dinner they moved to the living room. Charlie made a bid for the wing chair in the corner. Jack ordered him out of it. The dog gave a sigh of long suffering, then stretched out on the carpet by Samantha.

Jack glanced around at the furniture, then studied the painting over the fireplace. “So not you,” he said.

Samantha looked at the subtle blues and greens. “It’s very restful.”

“You hate it.”

“I wouldn’t have gone for something so…”

“Normal?” he asked.

She grinned. “Exactly. Too expected. Where’s the interesting furniture, the splash of color?”

“I’m sure you’ll do that with your next place.”

“Absolutely. I miss fringe.”

He winced. “I remember you had that horrible shawl over that table in your apartment when we were in grad school. It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen.”

“It was beautiful,” she told him. “And it had an amazing color palate.”

“It looked like something from a Dali nightmare.”

“You have no taste,” she said.

“I know when to be afraid.”

He smiled as he spoke, making her own mouth curve up in return. It had always been like this, she thought. They rarely agreed and yet they got along just fine. She liked that almost as much as she liked looking at him.

He’d changed out of his workday suit into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The denim had seen better days. Dozens of washings had softened and faded the material, molding to his long legs and narrow hips.

A controlled sex appeal, she thought. Reined-in power that always made her wonder what would happen when he lost control. How big would the explosion be? She had an idea from their lone night together. He had claimed her with a need that had left her shaking and desperately wanting more.

Step
away
from the memory, she told herself. Talk about dangerous territory.

“Don’t you have some furniture and decorations from your New York apartment?” he asked.

“I have a few things in storage,” she said. A very few things. In an ongoing attempt to control her, Vance had fought her over every picture and dish. It had been easier and oddly freeing simply to walk away.

An emotion flickered in his dark eyes. “I know you’re coming off of a divorce. How are you holding up?”

The news wasn’t a secret, so she wasn’t surprised that he knew. “Okay. It was tough at first. I went through the whole ‘I’ve failed’ bit, but I’ve moved on from that. Right now I’m feeling a lot of relief.”

“It’s a tough time,” he said.

She nodded. “I had really planned to stay married to the same man for the rest of my life. I thought I’d picked the perfect guy.” She paused. “Not perfect. Perfect for me. But I was wrong.”

An understatement, she thought grimly. “We wanted different things in nearly everything. I could have lived with that, but he changed his mind about wanting children.” She kept her voice light because if she gave in to her real feelings, the bitterness would well up inside of her. She didn’t want to deal with that right now. Talk about a waste of energy.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I remember you used to talk about having kids all the time.”

“I still plan to have them. I think I have a few good years left.”

“More than a few.”

She smiled as she spoke. Jack liked the way she curled up on the sofa, yet kept one leg lowered so she could rub Charlie with her bare foot.

She still painted her toenails, he thought, looking at the tiny flowers painted on each big toe. She even had a toe ring on each foot. None of the women he got involved with were the toe-ring type. Of course none of them wore jeans with flowers sewn onto the side seams or sweaters that looked more like a riot of colors than clothing.

“Enough about me,” she said. “What have you been up to, romantically?”

“Nothing that interesting,” he told her. “No wives, current or ex. I was engaged for a while.”

“Oh. It didn’t work out?”

“She died.”

Samantha’s eyes widened. “Jack, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. It was a few years ago, just before Christmas. Shelby’s car spun out on an icy bridge and went into the water. She didn’t make it.”

“How horrible.”

Samantha was the sympathetic type. She would want to say the right thing, only to realize there wasn’t one. He’d heard all the platitudes possible and none of them had made a damn bit of difference. Not after he’d found Shelby’s note. The one she’d written before she’d died.

“Was it very close to the wedding?” she asked.

“Just a little over a week. We were planning to get married New Year’s Eve.”

She bit her lower lip. “You must hate the holidays now.”

“Not as much as I would have thought. I get angry, thinking about what was lost.”

Not for him and Shelby—he’d done his best to let that go—but for her family. They were good people and he knew they’d yet to move on.

“Relationships are never easy,” she said.

Charlie chose that moment to roll onto his back and offer his stomach for rubbing. Samantha obliged him and he started to groan.

“That dog knows a good thing when he has one,” Jack said.

She looked at him and grinned. “Oh, right. Because
you
don’t spoil him.”

“Me? Never.” He sipped on his wine. “Are you overwhelmed by work yet?”

“Almost. Ask me again in two days and I’m sure the answer will be yes. There’s so much to do, and that’s what makes it all exciting. This is a great opportunity.”

He was glad she thought so. He wanted energetic people solving company problems as quickly as possible. “Have you heard about the big advertiser party? It’s in a few weeks. It’s an annual function and very upscale. Formal attire required.”

“Really? You mean I have an excuse to buy a new dress and look fabulous?”

The thought of her in something long and slinky suddenly made him look forward to the party in ways he hadn’t before. “It’s not just an excuse,” he said. “It’s an order.”

“And you’ll be in a tux?”

He grimaced. “Oh, yeah.”

“I’m sure you’ll look great. All the women will be fawning over you.”

“Fawning gets old,” he said, doing his best not to read anything into her comment. While he wanted to believe she was flirting, he’d been shot down enough in the past to know that wishful thinking got him exactly nowhere.

“Do you have a lot of it?” she asked, her green eyes sparkling with humor.

“Enough.”

“And just how much is that?”

He sensed they were in dangerous territory, but he wasn’t sure how to avoid getting in trouble.

“I date,” he said cautiously.

“I would guess that you have women lining up to be with you,” she said easily. “You’re good-looking, successful, well-off and single. That’s fairly irresistible.”

Except for Samantha, that had always been his take on it, too. So why did he get the feeling that she didn’t see the list as a good thing?

“Some women manage to resist,” he said. “What about you? Ready to start dating?”

“I don’t think so. Not for a while. Divorce has a way of sucking the confidence out of a person. Or at least it did me.”

He couldn’t believe that. She had always been confident. Smart, funny, gorgeous. “It doesn’t show.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I’m getting by on sheer determination.”

“It’s working.”

He wanted to tell her she had nothing to worry about—that she was as desirable as ever and he was willing to prove it.

Not a good idea, he reminded himself. So instead of speaking, or acting, he stood. “It’s late. Charlie and I need our beauty sleep.” He whistled softly. “Come on, boy.”

Charlie rose and stretched. He licked Samantha’s hand, then joined Jack.

She got up and followed them to the front door. “Thanks for stopping by. Dinner was great. I appreciated the company, as well.” She crouched down and rubbed Charlie’s ears. “You’re a very handsome boy. We’ll have to get together again soon.”

Charlie barked his agreement.

Figures, Jack thought with a grin. After all these years, she falls for the dog.

Chapter Three

N
early a week later, Jack sat behind what had been his father’s desk, cursing his agreement to take over the company, even temporarily. Every day brought a new crisis and, with it, bad news. At this point all he was asking for was twenty-four hours without something major going wrong.

He’d already had to deal with the IT people informing him that their webpages were nearly at capacity and, to support the expansion, they were going to have to negotiate with their server. The previous quarter’s report showed magazine subscriptions falling for their three best publications. A train derailment had destroyed nearly a hundred thousand magazines heading to the West Coast markets and he’d just seen the layout for the launch of their new home-decorating magazine and even he could tell it sucked the big one.

There was too much to deal with, he thought. How the hell had his father done all this
and
run several departments?

Jack leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He already had the answer to that one—George Hanson hadn’t done it well. Things had slipped and there’d been no time to fix them before the next crisis had appeared. Despite hiring department heads, Jack was still overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work.

As far as he could tell, there was only one way for Hanson Media Group to survive—he had to get more help.

He buzzed for his assistant. When Mrs. Wycliff entered his office, he motioned for her to take a seat.

“I need to get in touch with my brothers,” he said. “Do you know where Evan and Andrew are these days?”

If the older woman was surprised that Jack didn’t know where to find his brothers himself, she didn’t show it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” she said. “Would you like me to try to find them?”

“Please. I suggest you follow the credit-card charges. That’s generally the easiest way.” Evan favored Europe and Andrew tended to follow the seasons—summering in exclusive beach resorts and wintering in places like Whistler and Gstaad.

Jack knew all the psychobabble about siblings. In every family each tried to get his parents’ attention in a different way. For Jack, it had been about being the best at whatever he did. He’d learned early that he was expected to take over the family business and for a long time he’d worked toward that. But in the end, he’d walked away from Hanson Media Group, just like his brothers.

None of them had made the old man proud.

Did Evan and Andrew ever feel guilty? Jack had tried to make peace with his father more than once, but the old man had never seemed interested. All he’d talked about was how Jack should be at Hanson Media Group instead of practicing law.

Jack regretted losing touch with his brothers a lot more than he regretted disappointing his father.

“I’ll get right on that,” Mrs. Wycliff told him. “Have you spoken with your uncle?”

“Not about this,” Jack told her. “But that’s a great idea. Thank you.”

She rose. “I’ll let you know as soon as I locate them,” she said, then left.

Jack buzzed David’s office. “Hi. Are you available?”

“Absolutely.”

The public relations department was the next floor down, on the main level of Hanson Media Group. Here the bright overhead lights contrasted with the rich blues and purples in the carpet and on the sofas and chairs.

Jack took the stairs and made his way to David’s office. His uncle couldn’t have been more different from Jack’s father. Where George had lived and breathed business, David always had time for his nephews.

David’s assistant waved him in. Jack pushed open the door and walked into David’s large office.

The space had been designed to impress and put people at ease. It did both. David walked around his desk and shook hands with Jack, then pulled him close for a quick hug.

“How’s it going?” David asked as he led the way to the sofas in the corner. “Still finding things wrong?”

“Every day. I’m hoping for some good news soon. I figure we’re all due.”

“Toward the end, George wasn’t himself,” David said. “I think the work became too much for him. I’m guessing. He didn’t confide in me.”

“Did he confide in anyone?” Jack asked.

“Probably not. You hanging in there?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Jack looked at his uncle. Like all the Hanson men, he was tall, with brown hair. His eyes were lighter and he was nearly twenty years younger than his brother. Maybe that was why David had always been closer to his nephews. Maybe that was why David had been able to be there for them, Jack thought. George had been more like a father than a brother to David.

“You always have a choice,” David told him. “You could walk.”

“I gave my word to the board. I’m here for three months to clear things up and then I’m gone. I’m trying to get ahold of Evan and Andrew.”

David frowned. “Good luck with that.”

“Mrs. Wycliff is going to follow the money. That always works.” Jack shook his head. “They should be here. We should do this together.”

“You’ve never been close. Why expect it now?”

“Good point.” Jack didn’t have an answer. “Who am I kidding? If I had the chance to bolt, I’d take it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” David said. “You could have told the board no and you didn’t. You have a strong sense of responsibility.”

“Great. Look where it got me—here.”

“Is that so bad?”

“It’s keeping me from my real job.” Jack leaned forward. “Why don’t you take over? You know more about Hanson Media Group than any of us. You could run the company.”

“Not my thing,” David said. “Even if it was, I would respect my brother’s wishes. He wanted one of his sons to be in charge.”

“We don’t know that,” Jack said. “And we won’t until the will is read.” He swore. “What was my father thinking? Why on earth would he want us to wait three months to read the will? It’s crazy. Nothing can be settled until then. For all we know, he’s giving his majority shares to the cat.”

David grinned. “He didn’t have a cat.”

Someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” David called.

His assistant walked in with a tray and set it on the coffee table. “Anything else?”

David smiled at her. “Thanks, Nina. You didn’t have to do this.”

“No problem. Oh, you had a call from the printers.”

David groaned. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Not really,” Nina said cheerfully. “Don’t worry. I’ve already fixed the problem.”

With that she left.

Jack reached for one of the cups of coffee. “Tell me Andrew and Evan will at least come back for the reading of the will.”

David looked at him. “Are you hoping to cut and run the second their plane touches down?”

“It crossed my mind. I have a law practice to get back to.”

“Maybe you’ll appreciate your career more if you have to suffer a little here,” his uncle told him.

Jack narrowed his gaze. “If you start talking about Zen centering, I’m going to have to punch you.”

David laughed. “You know what I mean. You shouldn’t take things for granted.”

“I don’t. I’m not here to learn a life lesson. My father convinced the board that I was the only possible heir and now they’re pressuring me to take over. It’s all about self-interest. His, theirs, mine. My father didn’t give a damn about what I wanted. He’s doing his best to control me from the grave.”

“George loved you,” David said. “In his own way.”

“That’s like saying the black widow spider doesn’t mean it personally when she kills her mate.” He took another drink of coffee. “You’ve always defended him, even as you stepped in to take his place as our father.”

David shrugged. “I wanted to help.”

“You should have had a family of your own.”

“So should you. Speaking of which, I put out a press release about the new people you’ve hired. One of the names was familiar.”

“Samantha was the best person for the job,” Jack said, refusing to get defensive.

“I don’t doubt that. I’m simply saying it was interesting to see her name again. I remember her from your time in grad school. The one who got away.”

“She was never that,” Jack told him.

“You talked about her as if she were.”

“That was a long time ago. Things are different now.”

“Is she married?”

“No.”

“Then maybe fate is giving you a second chance.”

Jack looked at his uncle. “If you start drinking herbal tea next, we’re going to have to have a talk.”

David chuckled. “I’m just saying maybe you’re getting a second chance.”

“I don’t believe in them.”

David’s humor faded and he gave Jack a serious look. “Not every woman is Shelby.”

“I know that.” He put down his coffee and stood. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. As for Samantha, she’s a co-worker, nothing more.”

David grinned. “You’re lying. But we’ll play your game and pretend you’re not.”

“Gee, thanks. And if you hear anything on the whereabouts of my brothers, let me know.”

“You’ll be the first.”

* * *

“Oh, my,” Helen said as she looked around the condo. “It’s very…”

“Plain? Beige? Boring?” Samantha asked with a grin.

“I was going to say very ‘not you.’ But those will work as well.” She stepped forward and hugged Samantha again. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too. Getting out of New York was number one on my to-do list. You made that happen.”

Helen sank onto the sofa and dismissed Samantha with a flick of her wrist. “Oh, please. I got you an interview. I certainly didn’t get you hired. It’s not as if Jack would ever think to ask my opinion of anything. You got the job on your own.”

Samantha settled next to her friend and touched her arm. “You look tired. How do you feel?”

“Exhausted. Shell-shocked. It’s been two months. I guess I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.” Tears filled her eyes, but Helen blinked them away. “Damn. I promised myself I was done with crying.”

“There’s no time limit on grief.”

“I know.” Helen squeezed her fingers. “You’re sweet to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay. I’m pretending to be fine and that should count for something. Most of the time I do okay. I can now go for an hour or two without falling apart. In the beginning I was only able to survive minutes. So that’s an improvement. It’s just I miss him so much and I feel so alone.”

Samantha didn’t know what to say. Helen really
was
alone in all this. She didn’t have any family of her own and George’s sons hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms.

“Have you tried talking to Jack?” she asked. “He’s not unreasonable.”

“I know,” Helen said as she dug in her purse. She pulled out a tissue and wiped under her eyes. “He’s very polite and concerned, but we’re not close. I tried. I tried so hard, but no matter what I did, those boys resisted.” She sniffed. “I suppose I shouldn’t call them boys. They’re all grown men. They were grown when I met them. It’s just that’s how George thought of them. As his boys.”

Samantha angled toward her friend. “I don’t get it, either. They should have adored you.”

“Oh, I agree. I did everything I could think of. On my good days, I tell myself it wasn’t me. George was a wonderful man, but he was never very close with his sons. I don’t know why. Whatever problems they had existed long before he met me. Oh, but I loved him so much.”

“I know you did.”

Helen smiled. “All right. This is stupid. I didn’t come here to cry. I want to talk about you. Tell me everything. Are you loving your job?”

Samantha accepted the change in subject. She didn’t know how to help her friend, so maybe distracting her would allow her a few minutes away from the pain.

“Every second,” she said. “There’s so much work, which is great. I like keeping busy. I have so many ideas for the new website that I’ve started keeping a pad of paper and a pen on the nightstand. I wake up two or three times a night with more details or directions or things we could do.”

Helen wrinkled her nose. “I can see we’re going to have to have the ‘balance’ conversation in a few weeks.”

“Maybe,” Samantha said with a laugh. “But for now, I’m really happy. I like the people I work with, I feel I’m contributing. It’s great.”

“Do you miss Vance?”

Samantha sighed. “No. And I really mean it. I thought I’d hurt more, but I think all the betrayal burned away the love. For the longest time I thought I’d never forgive him. Lately, I’ve come to see that I don’t care enough to worry about forgiveness. He was horrible in so many ways. I have to think about myself and getting better. Not about him.”

“Good for you. You’ve made a fresh start. You can get back on your feet. Look around. Maybe fall in love again.”

Samantha held up her fingers in the sign of a cross. “Get back. There will be no talk of love or relationships in the context of my life, thank you very much.” She lowered her hands to her lap. “I’m done with men.”

“Forever?”

“For a while. I don’t need the pain and suffering.”

“It’s not all like that,” Helen said. “Vance wasn’t the one for you. You figured that out and moved on. It was the right thing to do. But you don’t want to turn your back on love. You don’t want to miss the chance to have a great love. I believe there’s one great love for everyone.”

Samantha nodded. “And George was yours.”

“He was everything,” Helen said. “I was so lucky to find him. We shared so much. That’s what I want to remember forever. How much we shared. How much we mattered to each other. I’ll never find that again.”

Samantha wondered if that was true. Helen was still a relatively young woman. And a beautiful one. Samantha had a feeling there was at least one other great love in her friend’s life. As for herself, she wasn’t interested in trying. Not when she’d been burned so badly.

“Speaking of men,” Helen said. “What’s it like working with Jack?”

“Good. He’s very efficient and gives me all the room I need.”

Helen raised her eyebrows. “And?”

Samantha shrugged. “And what?”

“Are there sparks? I remember there were sparks when you were in grad school with him. I remember long discussions about whether or not you should risk getting involved with him. I also remember saying you should, but you ignored me.”