by Diana Palmer
"Doing very well. And you?" It was the old formal way of greeting that she remembered from long ago, until Myrna smiled gently and softened the icy hauteur she'd assumed automatically. "You look so tired. Come in, and I'll have Mrs. Dougherty make us a pot of coffee. Have you eaten?"
"I had a sandwich before I left Chicago," she said. "I really am bushed."
"Too much work and too little rest." The older woman nodded. "Cy does the same thing."
"How is he?" she asked, because her conversations with Cy on the phone had grown briefer each time she spoke to him, as if distance were affecting his attitude toward her. Their conversations had been, she had to admit, abrupt and less than satisfying. He'd changed the subject every time she'd asked about his condition or tried to discuss the takeover bid.
"Why, he's back at work full-time," Myrna said, surprised.
Meredith wobbled. "Full-time! But his back"
"It's healing fine. He can't do a lot of lifting, of course, but most of his work is done mentally or sitting at a desk. He's just had to give up working with his horses for a while, that's all." She frowned. "Surely he told you?"
It didn't bode well for the future, Meredith thought. Secrets again. She grimaced, ignoring the question. "Is he home?"
Myrna shook her head. "He was, but he had a late meeting."
"He's driving, too?" Meredith asked miserably. Time had blurred since she'd been away.
"Yes." Myrna set about getting them some coffee while Meredith and Mr. Smith took a reluctant Blake up to bed, where his puppy was sleeping peacefully in a custom-made indoor dog house in the corner. No allergy problems, Myrna had promised, because air filters and central heating took care of that problem. Blake understood that when the puppy was just a little older, he was going to have his own enclosure outside. This was temporary, because the pet was new.
After tucking Blake in for the night, Meredith returned to the living room.
"How did it go?" Myrna asked with some concern.
"I gave my brother-in-law a very hard kick in the head," Meredith replied with faint satisfaction. "He'll think twice before he tries to double-deal with me a second time."
"And your job?"
Meredith hesitated. "Ihaven't decided about that just yet," she lied. She didn't want Cy to know that she'd resigned from her high-pressured position. Now that she'd done it, she wondered with cold apprehension if she'd made a terrible mistake. Cy had been badly hurt, and everything he'd said and done could have sprung from his vulnerability. Now that he was back on his feet again, he might very well find that his feelings weren't as involved as he'd thought. And did he know that she already held controlling interest in his company?
"I've had so much on my mind lately," Myrna was saying, "trying to keep Cy from overdoing it. He threw himself back into the job with a vengeance when he found out that Don Tennison was trying to grab up those remaining proxies." She smiled gently. "He knew that Don was moving on you, you know. Don offered him the proxies if Cy would side with him to help him oust you from the corporation."
Meredith felt cold all over. "And Cy agreed?"
"I don't know," Myrna replied. "He was furious when he left here tonight. I don't know why. The company means a great deal to him, but I don't know if it means so much that he'd go behind your back to help your brother-in-law plot against you. I hope not, Meredith," she added quietly.
But Meredith wasn't so certain. Cy had changed since she'd been away, and she knew how much he resented her work. She grimaced as she sipped her coffee. It was worse than she'd expected, it seemed.
They hadn't been in the living room long before the front door opened and closed with a rough slam. Heavy footsteps thudded toward the living room, and Cy stood there, dressed in a dark navy blue suit, his cream Stetson curled in one hand, his dark eyes cold and accusing.
"You've got my damned proxies, haven't you?" he demanded.
Meredith didn't flinch. So he knew. He probably had spies right in her own office, and that would explain his vicious anger. But he had to know that she'd resigned, too, so she wasn't worried. She lifted her head and looked at him levelly. "That's right," she said.
"Including my great-uncle's."
"You shouldn't have trusted Don so much," she mused. "He and one of your directors have been stabbing you in the back for weeks."
"Which director?" he shot at her.
"Your friend Bill. Didn't you know?" she baited him, furious with the way he'd confronted her. He hadn't even bothered to say hello. Well, she'd expected trouble. Here it was.
"No, I didn't know," he said coldly. "And you couldn't tell me, could you? No aiding and abetting the enemy, is that how it goes?" He tossed his hat onto a chair and sat down on the sofa beside his mother. He looked worn, but he was sitting straight and apparently without too much discomfort.
"You might at least welcome Meredith home," Myrna told her son.
"Why bother?" he asked, his eyes stabbing at her. "She won't be here much longer. Isn't that right, Meredith? Now that you've got what you want, you're going back to Chicago to run your husband's company. But it may not be that simple. I'm not going to lie down and let you run my damned company!"
Incredibly, he didn't know about her resignation. All at once she remembered the guilty-looking Tennison director on the telephone and put two and two together. That director wouldn't have known about her resignation until after he'd telephoned Cy, and Cy obviously hadn't talked to him since.
"Yes, I have control of Harden Properties," she began, ready to explain why.
But he didn't give her a chance.
"See how long you can keep it," he said, feeling as if he'd been kicked. Ms. Businesswoman, he thought coldly. He'd thought she was ready to step down from her pressured job and give him children. "Do you really think I'm going to stand by and watch you dismember my company?"
"I know better," she replied. "But I have controlling interest."
He laughed without humor. "Not for long, honey. While you're in Chicago, I'll be right back regaining control." He stared at her. "When are you leaving?"
Her heart felt like lead in her chest. Was that what he wanted? He didn't look as if he really cared one way or the other. His eyes were arctic, like his deep, cutting voice.
"Or have you decided to stay here and try to run Harden Properties?" he added, even the set of his dark head challenging. He smiled mockingly. "If that's the case, you'd better move back into your great-aunt's house, because I don't tolerate subversives under my own roof."
"Cy"
"My son stays here, of course," he added flatly. "You aren't taking him away with you."
Her eyes popped. She got slowly to her feet, furious. She was tired and worn and shocked. Now she was angry, also. He was making altogether too many assumptions for a damned arrogant man who couldn't be bothered even to listen to her. "Like bloody hell, I'm not," she raged. "He's my child! Until a few weeks ago, you didn't even know he existed!"
"I do now," he said, crossing one long leg over the other with a faint grimace. "Having him in Chicago isn't convenient. I want him here, so that I have access to him. I won't have a long-distance relationship with my only child."
That was a laugh, because Blake wasn't going to be his only child for long. But she wouldn't tell him that. Not now.
"You aren't giving me orders," Meredith said shortly. "And if you aren't careful, I'll throw you right out the front door of Harden Properties!"
"Try it," he invited, his eyes flashing.
"No," Myrna said finally, standing to get between them. "No, I won't have this. You stop it right now," she told her son. "Meredith's just home after weeks in Chicago, and before she can even rest from the flight, you're jumping down her throat about business."
"She deserves it," he said. "My God, don't you realize what she's done? It's your livelihood, too."
"Is your company really more important to you than Meredith and Blake?" Myrna asked.
"You're damned right it is," h
e said out of uncontrolled fury. She'd betrayed him, and he hated her at that moment. All he knew was that she'd gained control of his company while pretending to care about him, while he was helpless. He couldn't forgive it, not even if she'd done it out of revenge for the past. "You can't equate a life's work with a few hours of pleasure in bed," he added with pure venom.
Meredith went white in the face. She lowered her eyes to her lap and didn't say another word. She was tired and nauseated, without even the will to fight back. She'd had to fight so much, to get where she was, to stay where she was. Now she was pregnant and helpless and he was putting a knife into her heart, the cold brute. The irony of it was that she'd done it for him, to save his company from Don's control. Don would have fired Harden Properties' entire board of directors and replaced them with yes-men who'd have ousted Cy without a second thought. She knew that, even if he didn't. She hadn't wanted to take over the company for herself. She'd been thinking of Blake, who would someday inherit it. But Cy didn't know that. As usual, he always thought the worst, no matter what she did.
"Cy, how could you?" Myrna said miserably.
He uncrossed his legs and got to his feet, his face as hard as ever while he glared down at Meredith, hating the look of defeat about her. He'd loved her, and she'd sold him out. She'd beaten him at his own game. He couldn't bear what she'd done to him.
"I won't throw you out tonight," he said quietly. "But tomorrow, I want you and your lizard-loving bodyguard out of here."
"My lizard-loving bodyguard and I will be delighted to vacate the premises, with my son," Meredith replied in a voice like warmed-ever death.
He stood there vibrating with anger, but she wouldn't look at him. Seconds later he left the room, still bristling.
Apparently he'd moved back upstairs, because Meredith heard his heavy footsteps going up the carpeted staircase. A door slammed far away.
"I'm taking Blake with me," she told Myrna as she got unsteadily to her feet. "If Cy doesn't like that, he can lump it."
Myrna grimaced with compassion. "I don't know what's gotten into him," she said apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Meredith."
"It's not your fault," Meredith replied. "It's just the old pattern, you see. If anything's wrong, I did it." She shrugged. "Why do I always expect it to be different?" She let out a long breath. "But you'd better tell him to keep an eye on his friend Bill. He and Don were hand in glove on the takeover. I prevented Don from assuming control, but Cy's only safe as long as I have those proxies. When I give them up, he's on his own. Don won't back down, and he's perfectly capable of replacing Cy's entire board of directors just to have a free hand on those mineral leases. With the increase in strategic metals right now, Don won't hesitate, believe me. And I'm no longer in a position to fight him."
"You're giving up the proxies? But why?" Myrna exclaimed.
"I have no choice," Meredith said without explaining that once her resignation was voted on next month by the board of directors and she was officially released from corporate obligations for Tennison, she would no longer have control over the proxies. In point of fact, she would have little left except her wealth and her pride and Blake. She'd gambled and lost. Now she wondered why she'd even bothered. She should have gone elsewhere for those mineral rights. Why hadn't she?
"Go and lie down," Myrna pleaded. "You look really bad, Meredith. Perhaps you should see a doctor."
"I will, later in the week. Right now I just want to sleep," she said, her voice slurring from weariness. "Good night."
"Yes. Sleep well."
That was probable, even if her heart was broken. She could barely keep her eyes open long enough to get to the guest room and change into her long lemon cotton gown. Just one minute after her head touched the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep.
Meredith got up and dressed quickly the next morning. She packed, too. If Cy wanted her out, she wasn't about to argue with him. She had pride, too.
Blake was dressed already, but when she told him they were leaving, he started to cry.
"Damn you, Cy," Meredith muttered. If only he were still here instead of already at his office, she'd probably crack a chair over his arrogant head!
She calmed Blake as best she could and had Mr. Smith get everything together while she dealt with him. Myrna was also sad, but Meredith promised her son she would make sure he had plenty of time with his grandmotherand his father, too.
She hated having to send Blake to school in this state of mind. She went in with him and explained to his teacher that his home life was upset, without mentioning why. The woman was very understanding and promised that she'd call Meredith if he didn't settle down.
Then she and Mr. Smith drove back to Great-Aunt Mary's house and settled in.
A week went by, during which Cy didn't call and didn't make any attempt to contact her. Meredith heard through Myrna that he was ignoring the situation, although he did seem to find plenty of excuses not to be at home. Myrna thought it was because he missed her and Blake. Meredith wasn't sure about that. She was too depressed and miserable to think very much about it. The nausea seemed to get worse every day, although she didn't mention that to Myrna. Like Cy, she preferred to ignore the whole situation. The only contact she had with him now was through his mother, who phoned and came to visit Blake. The little boy, too, was missing Cy. Even his friend Mr. Smith didn't seem to be an adequate substitute for his beloved daddy.
The first flakes of snow were falling that next Saturday. Mr. Smith was in the kitchen making sandwiches for lunch. Blake was out in the fenced backyard, bundled up while he threw sticks for Harry. Meredith had no appetite at all anymore. Well, except for Cy's heart on a platter, she thought icily. She could probably force herself to eat that!
While she rested, she made telephone calls, reassuring herself that Don wasn't helping himself to her proxies before she could throw them back in Cy's face. She planned to make them a going-away present, because she'd convinced herself that he wasn't going to budge. She might as well go home; there was nothing left for her here. It had better be soon, too, she thought miserably, because they could get snowed in if they weren't careful.
"Everything okay?" Mr. Smith asked hesitantly. She was stretched out on the couch in a royal purple track suit, which was loose and warm, her long hair disheveled, her face almost as pale as the snow outside.
"I'm just tired," she replied defensively.
"You need a doctor," he said firmly. "You look awful."
"No, I don't," she snapped.
"I'll make an appointment for you," he said, and went off to do it. None of her angry protests made a bit of difference. He did it anyway, setting up an appointment for her at Dr. Bryner's for the next morning. "And you'll go," he told her. "If I have to carry you over my shoulder."
She bristled, sitting up to glare at him. "If you dare, I'll lay a coffee table over your head! I'm sick to death of men. I hate you all! I wouldn't be in this condition except for Cy."
"You're the one who wanted to keep Don from ousting you"
"That isn't the condition I meant," she raged. " This is the condition Cy's responsible for!" she added furiously, laying a deliberate hand on her stomach.
Mr. Smith's eyebrows arched, and he began to grin from ear to ear. "Another baby?" he asked, his voice indescribably tender. "Maybe a little girl this time, Kip?" he added softly.
She burst into tears. That tenderness was so familiar. She remembered it vividly from when she was carrying Blake. Henry and Mr. Smith had always been tender with her. She cried even more, remembering how tender Cy had been with her the night before she had to go back to Chicago. That tenderness was what she'd wanted when she'd returned last week. She'd planned to tell him everything, especially about the baby, and she'd dreamed of having him hold her and be the way Mr. Smith was being about her pregnancy. But it had all gone wrong.
"Oh, damn him," she sobbed.
Smith picked her up off the sofa and smiled, sitting down with a watery Meredith in his la
p, rocking her gently in his arms. "Now, now," he crooned. "It's all right."
"I hate him!" she raged, hitting Mr. Smith's broad chest with her fist.
"Yes, I know."
There was a knock on the back door, but Mr. Smith didn't answer it. The door was unlocked, and he had a good idea who it was.
"Somebody's at the door," she sniffed.
"I guess so."
As he spoke, a door opened and closed. Cy came into the living room, looking as worn and unhappy as Meredith did, but when he saw her in Mr. Smith's lap, his dark eyes exploded.
"Put her down," he told the older man in a tone that sizzled.
"Don't you do it," Meredith said, her arms linking around Mr. Smith's neck as she glared at Cy from a red-nosed, red-eyed face. "You go to hell, Cyrus Harden!"
He stiffened a little, but he didn't back down. With that snow-speckled cream Stetson slanted arrogantly over one dark eye, he looked as threatening as an old-time gunfighter. "What are you crying about?" he demanded. "Guilty conscience again?"
"I don't have anything to be guilty about," she shot back.
"Stealing my damned company out from under me doesn't bother you?" he asked with a mocking smile.
"If you don't like it, go steal it back," she challenged.
"Thanks. That's just what I had in mind." He lifted his chin, glaring at Smith. "You're the new love interest, I gather?"
Mr. Smith grinned. "Lucky me."
Cy actually vibrated. "Put her down and step outside," he said, his voice ominously low.
"Glad to oblige, but not until the snow stops," Mr. Smith said pleasantly. "We wouldn't want you to slip and fall on your back."
Cy started toward him with barely leashed rage.
"Don't you touch him," Meredith dared, clinging closely. "He cares about me. He doesn't yell at me or doubt everything I tell him or flaunt his women in front of me. He doesn't use me to get to my child, either!"
He stopped dead. "I never did that," he said.
"Didn't you?" Her red eyes filled with helpless tears. "You seduced me, so that you could keep me at the house, so you'd have access to Blake." The tears began to roll down her pale cheeks. "But when you found out I had control of Harden Properties, you stopped caring about either one of us. You said so last week. Maybe you never cared at all, anyway. Because the only thing you want is your damned company." She buried her face in Mr. Smith's shirt, sobbing brokenly. "Well, go run it! I don't want it! I never did!"