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Marrying the Boss
Megan Kelly


All his life Mark Collins has been fighting for a place to belong.Now just when he thinks the hard-earned family business is within reach, his adoptive grandfather's will has named a challenger. Leanne Fairbanks belongs in Collins Company as much as Mark does–and she's just as determined to become its next CEO. Until her handsome rival starts arousing feelings that have nothing to do with business.With a lot more than who's going to be boss at issue, Leanne has to decide whether winning the battle will lose her the war–especially when it's her heart at stake….







“If you’d just let me know where you’ll be, I could try to avoid you.”

“I thought you’d been doing that already.”

Leanne stopped and faced Mark. Had his voice held a tinge of disappointment? “No, I haven’t. I’ve just been trying to learn everything fast.”

She mentally slapped herself. Don’t admit your vulnerabilities. It gave him an edge, and being so far behind, she couldn’t afford to give him any further advantage.

“I’d be happy to help you.”

She spun to face him, astounded.

After a moment Mark chuckled. “Well, maybe not happy.”

“And maybe not really helpful.” She glanced at him. “You don’t consider me much of a threat, do you?”


Dear Reader,

Families are funny, you know? What passed for normal in my family of five kids seemed strange to my friend who had only one sibling—and a brother at that. Not to mention what my friend who’s an only child thought of our troop! As the youngest, I’ve always been intrigued by family dynamics, which is why I’m so pleased to have my first book published by Harlequin American Romance, the specialists in stories of home and family. I’ve dreamed of writing for Harlequin for many years, so this novel is very special to me. My hero and heroine didn’t make it easy, however!

The main characters of Marrying the Boss, Mark and Leanne, have very interesting family backgrounds. I couldn’t wait until they showed me how they’d work through their issues and still fall in love. It was a fun ride that I hope you’ll enjoy.

I’d love to hear what you think. Please contact me through my Web site, MeganKellyBooks.com.

Sincerely,

Megan Kelly




Marrying the Boss

Megan Kelly










ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Fate led Megan Kelly to write romances—fate and her grandmother, that is. While riding a crosstown bus, teenage Megan and her grandma happened on a Harlequin Romance book. The older woman scanned the first page to determine the book’s contents and declared it to be about lions, then she gave it to Megan to pass the time on the next day’s journey home, five hours away. (The first page did mention lions, but they were statues at the gates of the hero’s family estate.) Megan became an avid reader and discovered her dream job—writing those exciting and moving stories she loved. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and two children and is well-known at her local bookstore and library.


For Tom, my real-life Hero—

Thanks for your support on this journey;

and, of course,

For Mom, who taught me by example

about strong women.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue




Chapter One


Of course the son of a bitch had to be buried in the rain. Leanne Fairbanks glowered at the mausoleum, then yanked her heel out of the mud and advanced toward it.

“Are they all gone, do you think?”

At her mother’s question, Leanne surveyed Fields Grove Cemetery—the premiere spot for the dead elite of Chicago. Lionel Collins lay in the family crypt, a large domed building of gray granite, sporting Greek columns and two stone lions for guards. Leanne grimaced at the lions. The egomaniac.

No birds sang. Wet black trees supported branches thinly covered with April buds. Sprinkles of rain made hardly a patter. Dead silence, she thought, then quelled her ill-timed humor. The emptiness of the surroundings unnerved her. “I don’t see anyone.”

They hadn’t attended the private ceremony held in the funeral chapel. Her mom had decided against seeing Gloria, Lionel’s daughter-in-law, and her son, Mark, much to Leanne’s relief. She’d have gone for support if her mom had felt the need, but personally, Leanne had no use for either of the Collinses. Much as they had no use for her.

They arrived at the mausoleum door, which Leanne was thankful hadn’t been locked yet. Two workers turned at their entrance, then ducked out into the drizzle. Their portable floor lamps lit most of the fifteen by fifteen-foot-interior like high noon, illuminating the gaping hole in the wall. Shadows lingered in the corners. Leanne snugged her raincoat tighter.

Her mom closed the umbrella and smoothed her dark-blond hair back into its chignon. At fifty-four, she had only a few lines, although her green eyes had lost their sparkle during the past week.

Giving her mom a moment of privacy, Leanne inspected the crypt. Lionel would be interred above Helen, his wife of forty-seven years. Warren, their son—my half-brother—lay at rest across from them. She probed the thought like a sore tooth but experienced no pain. He’d been a stranger, no more than a name to her. Below him was a marker with Gloria’s name and birth year chiseled on it.

Leanne frowned. There wasn’t a place for Mark.

She started to mention this to her mom, but stopped at the sight of the grief on her face. Her mother’s fingertips hovered just above the mahogany casket, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Leanne placed her arm around her mother’s shoulders, offering support but no words. She had nothing to say about this man. Other than generous monthly checks, he’d ignored her existence. Conscience money, she thought, then corrected herself. It couldn’t have been. Lionel Collins hadn’t had a conscience.

Her mother sniffed and dabbed at her tears with a tissue. Leanne hugged her tighter.

“He was a good man. He was,” her mom emphasized, as though Leanne had argued the point. She wouldn’t, not today. If she hadn’t changed her mother’s mind in the past, debating “the Lion’s” questionable merits wouldn’t help anything now.

“Yes, he was,” a male voice said behind them.

They spun. A tall man filled the doorway, his silky dark hair absorbing the illumination from the workmen’s lights. As he stepped forward, she noticed his deep brown eyes and had to repress a shiver. Chilly air, she told herself, wanting to believe it. She recognized him from the financial section of the newspaper.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought everyone had headed to the hotel already. My mother lost an earring and is afraid it dropped—” he eyed the casket “—somewhere in here.” He leaned forward, hand extended. “I’m Mark Collins.”

Leanne gaped when her mother reached to take his hand between both of hers and held on.

“Jenny Fairbanks,” she said in her quiet, dignified way. “This is my daughter, Leanne. We’re so sorry for your loss.”

He placed his other hand over her mother’s. He hadn’t reacted at all to the introduction. Smooth, Leanne thought.

Mark gestured to the man behind him. “This is Todd Benton. He’s come to help me—” again he glanced at the casket “—in my search.”

“Leanne Fairbanks?” Todd asked. He stepped forward, his thin eyebrows creeping up on his forehead toward where his hairline should have been. “As well as being a family friend, I’m also the late Mr. Collins’s lawyer. I have information of interest to you.”

Leanne frowned. “What might that be, Mr. Benton?”

“Your inheritance, of course. I’d like to speak to you in private. Perhaps we could set up a time for you to come to my office.”

“What inheritance?” Leanne and Mark said at the same time.

She looked at him, and he glared back. She tried to digest the news while he pierced her with his gaze. His dark eyes narrowed before he turned to the lawyer.

“I seem to be a step behind, Benton. Why is Miss Fairbanks named in my grandfather’s will?”

Leanne’s mouth dropped open. The nerve of the man. She hadn’t expected to inherit anything—nor did she want anything from a man who’d abandoned her mother when she became pregnant. But for Mark to question Lionel’s mentioning her was appalling.

“Because she’s Lionel’s daughter, of course.”

“She’s what?”

He hadn’t known? Leanne would have accused him of deception if he hadn’t gone pale beneath his tan. Emotions crossed his face, but on such short acquaintance, she couldn’t interpret them. He frowned in what could have been confusion. His eyes widened, possibly with disbelief, and was that pain in the tightness around his mouth?

What had the Collins family been told? All these years she thought they’d known about her. If they hadn’t, she could forgive their silence. She’d have only Lionel to blame. Perhaps they’d want to embrace her as a member of the family now that they knew.

“His daughter,” Benton repeated. “You didn’t…? Come on, Mark, you must have known.”

Mark shook his head. Had he lost his power of speech? Leanne felt that way herself.

“Gloria and Warren never told you?” Benton asked.

“Mother knows?” Mark whispered, never breaking eye contact with Leanne.

“Of course she knows. Your entire family knew of Lionel’s scandal.”

A chill washed over Leanne. So much for being embraced.

Benton drew himself upright. “This is obviously not the place for this discussion. Miss Fairbanks, if I may have your current address, I’ll contact you with the details of your inheritance.”

Leanne broke away from the hold Mark’s gaze had on her. She hesitated to leave her mother with Mark, especially after his receiving such news.

After a few hesitant steps, she withdrew a notepad and pen from her purse and jotted down the information. She tore off the paper and handed it to the lawyer. “I wrote my home and work numbers, as well.”

“Thank you, Miss Fairbanks. I know this is a hard time for you—”

“Yes,” Leanne cut in, then returned to her mother’s side. The man had no idea.

“Ms. Fairbanks,” Mark said to her, “my mother is waiting at the hotel where we’re having the luncheon.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then shook his head. “I’m rambling, sorry. I’m still processing this. I want you to come back with me so we can straighten all this out.”

Leanne raised an eyebrow. “There’s nothing to straighten out. Talking to your mother won’t change my paternity. Lionel Collins is—was—my father.”

“No one is arguing that point,” said Benton. He glanced at Mark. “It would benefit everyone to understand what’s at stake here. We could stop at my office.”

He turned to her mother and hesitated.

“I don’t believe I’ll come,” her mother said with a slight smile. “I understand Gloria’s feelings, and I’m not up to the stares and gossip myself.”

“What do you mean ‘what’s at stake?’” Mark asked.

Benton peered toward the door. The workers stood smoking under the meager shelter of a tree a few feet away.

“I don’t give a damn about someone overhearing—”

Benton sighed. “Mark, you don’t want it in the news that the Collins heirs were heard fighting at the interment.”

“‘Heirs?’” Mark voiced Leanne’s thought. He looked at her, then her mother.

Leanne put an arm around her mom.

Her mother studied the lawyer. “You said you need to speak with my daughter, Mr. Benton?”

He nodded.

After a moment, she inclined her head, and Benton’s shoulders relaxed. What private communication did they just have? Leanne wondered.

Her mother turned to her. “Why don’t you go with them, honey? I’ve got my car. I’m sure they can bring you home after you finish.”

“Of course,” Mark said. “I’ll see to it myself.”

Leanne heard his formal tone and took it as reticence. “That won’t be necessary. I can afford a cab.”

Benton studied his shoes while Mark frowned.

“He’s only being polite,” her mother said.

Leanne ignored the reprimand. “If we’re discussing the will, shouldn’t my mother come?”

Mark and Leanne regarded the lawyer, who remained silent. After a moment, Mark looked toward the doorway where rain continued to mist the air.

“Honey.” Her mother laid a hand on Leanne’s arm. “I don’t think I’m mentioned in the will.”

Leanne stilled. It wasn’t possible. Even Lionel Collins couldn’t be that cruel. She awaited the lawyer’s denial, but Mr. Benton shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

She gazed at her mom’s tranquil expression, knowing the hurt it must conceal. Glancing around for someone to contradict this idiocy, she saw Mark looking at her with compassion. No, his concern wasn’t aimed at her.

“My grandfather was a hard man,” he said to her mother, “as you may know. I’m sorry he’s done this to you.”

Her mother’s lips quavered. “You’re a kind man, Mr. Collins.”

“No, ma’am, I’m afraid I’m too much like my grandfather.”

She cocked her head. “I don’t think so. Not in the ways that matter.”

Leanne stared at them, disbelieving. What kind of mutual-admiration crap was this? Granted, it wasn’t Mark’s fault her mother had been slighted, but she’d always thought of the Collinses as the enemy. Now here were her mom and the grandson making eyes at each other.

A kind man, she fumed. As though her mother knew anything about him. And him offering compassion as though he could possibly understand their lives. He’d grown up with his parents and grandparents, attending private schools, with privilege and wealth. Her mother had struggled as a hairdresser, living in a small house in a fading middle-class suburb.

“I’m going home,” her mother said. “Call me when you can.”

“Mom—”

“Now, dear, you go on. Mr. Benton probably has a lot to explain to you.”

Her mother disappeared after shaking hands with the men, while Leanne stood in disbelief. She’s left me to the wolves.

Mark shook his head. He couldn’t imagine even the Lion doing something this heartless. His grandfather’s nickname came as much from his way of doing business—territorially, with a snarl and show of fangs for anyone who got too close—as from his given name of Lionel or his mane of blond hair.

Leanne had inherited his hair, along with whatever else he’d left her. Her face had gone white when she’d realized Jenny had been slighted, and her lips had tightened. He had the overwhelming urge to caress her cheek, not only to comfort her, but to enjoy its softness against his fingers.

He cleared his throat, drawing Leanne’s attention. Her green eyes appeared darker, with the black center more pronounced than before. Could she be in shock?

She turned to Todd. Her stiff posture and angry expression—not shock, after all—proclaimed her eagerness to get away from them. “Mr. Benton, if you would please send me notice of whatever Lionel felt guilty enough to leave me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Well, you see, that may be a problem.”

“Why?” she asked.

“The terms of Lionel’s will are complicated. It involves two—” He shot a look at Mark. “—uh, inheritances. One is a cash amount. The other is…”

“Spit it out, man.” Mark nearly shook the lawyer. He didn’t trust that furtive glance Todd had given him. Something was up.

“We should really discuss this in my office,” Benton said. “Perhaps we could just ride over there—”

“I need to get back to the luncheon,” Mark said.

“And I have no intention of going anywhere with you two.”

This startled Mark, as well as Benton, judging by the open mouth of the other man.

“I don’t intend to be rude,” Leanne said a little more quietly, “but I also need to go comfort my mother.” She glared at Mark.

He hadn’t meant to be insensitive. He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to ruffle her feathers, but she was incensed. Her first statement about not going anywhere with them rang truer than this half excuse of comforting her mother—even though the poor woman did need consoling, Mark thought.

“Just give her the highlights,” Mark said.

Benton sighed, then nodded. “I suppose as you’re the principles involved, I could do that here. I want you to know I did try to dissuade him, Mark.” He cleared his throat. “Lionel has set you up in competition against each other.”

Mark looked at Leanne. Her furrowed brow told him she shared his confusion. “What competition?”

“There are three tasks you must complete. Whichever of you completes two tasks first, to the satisfaction of the board of directors, wins.”

Mark drew a breath. He had a long association with the Lion’s manipulation tactics. This wouldn’t be good. “Just what do we win?”

Benton straightened. “The winner gets all of Lionel’s stock in the Collins Company and thereby his position as CEO.”

Mark clenched his jaw. “That bastard.”

“Do you mind?” Leanne said. “I really dislike that term.”

He blinked, reminded of her presence. When he caught her meaning, he said, “Sorry. I meant, that son of a bitch.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t look away from her. His competition. For CEO. Dear God, he couldn’t believe it. He’d been training for that position since his father had died ten years before, training with the Lion himself. Now it could all be snatched away from him at the whim of a controlling old bas—son of a bitch.

For years, he’d tried to prove himself worthy of the Collins name. He’d thought his position as successor secure, as he was the only Collins left, other than his mother.

Until Leanne Fairbanks appeared, Lionel’s blood relative. Blood had mattered to Lionel, which was why Mark had tried so hard to make the old man forget his adoption. He’d modeled himself after his father and Lionel. Working all hours, he’d not only burned the midnight oil, but often the 3:00 a.m. oil as well. No matter what successes he achieved, he knew the Lion regarded him as not-quite-a-Collins. He swallowed back his sense of betrayal.

“I don’t suppose there’s been some mistake,” Mark said without much hope.

“No,” Benton said. “Lionel stated very clearly his intentions—”

Leanne opened her mouth, but before a sound could emerge, Mark cut in. “There must be a loophole.”

“The will is airtight, I assure you,” Benton replied.

Leanne made a sound, but Mark turned his back on her. Think. There had to be a solution. This was nuts.

He snapped his fingers and turned back to Benton.

“I’ll contest it,” he said. “I’ll declare the old Lion non compos mentis. It’s insane, giving the business to an outsider. The place will be run into the ground inside a week. No judge in the world would consider this the design of a rational man.”

“Your grandfather was in no way impaired when he devised the will,” Benton said. “I tried to talk him out of it, Mark, but it was his money, his company and his prerogative on how to dispose of it.”

“Dispose of it is right. He might as well have sold the place for scrap as to hand it over to…” His voice trailed off, and he turned to face Leanne.

“Yes?” She smiled. “You were saying?”

He ducked his head for a moment, then met her gaze. “I apologize, Ms. Fairbanks. I was on the verge of being impolite, but I’m sure you agree how crazy the idea is.”

“Do I?”

Mark stared at her. She blinked down at her hands, which she’d gripped together. When she raised her head again, he couldn’t read her expression.

He found his voice. “I shouldn’t have to buy the company I’ve worked for my whole life. It should be mine.”

“Why?” Leanne asked.

“Because—Did you ask why? You, who I didn’t even know existed until twenty minutes ago?”

She raised her chin. “Yes.”

“Well, then, I’ll tell you, Ms. Fairbanks. I’ve lived with the company since I was a baby. I learned the inner workings of every aspect of each department. I sat at the dinner table with the Lion, celebrated holidays with him, worked at his side. I’m the heir apparent.”

Leanne smirked. “Apparently not.”

Mark’s jaw tightened. He’d walked right into that one, but couldn’t retract his words. The heir apparent, for God’s sakes. He didn’t talk like that. No one talked like that.

He swallowed down his embarrassment and reined in his anger. It wasn’t her fault the Lion had betrayed him.

Dammit. The company should be his, without any question. Without any qualification or restriction. Without any idiotic contest.

“Oh, my God,” he groaned. “It’s that TV show.”

Benton nodded. “Your grandfather always admired the Donald. He drew up this will after the show first aired. I advised against it.”

Mark ran a hand over his face. He couldn’t believe he’d have to earn his place all over again.

Leanne cleared her throat.

Mark narrowed his eyes at her. A pink tinge from the cool April air nearly covered the pale freckles on her cheeks. He couldn’t be distracted by her. She embodied his new competition. No, don’t think about her body. Still, he gave her slender form a once-over, noting the snug waist below nicely rounded breasts.

“If I’m following you,” Leanne said, cutting short his inspection, “Lionel’s will is based on a reality TV show?”

Benton nodded. “The Apprentice. Young business people compete to win a job with Donald Trump.”

“Then,” Mark interrupted, “we can definitely declare the Lion out of his mind.”

“He was mentally competent,” Benton stated again.

“Nevertheless, I plan to contest the will. The Collins Company will not go to a stranger.” He paused, feeling a moment’s regret for Leanne’s feelings, but determined all the same. “I won’t lose control of the company to anyone, family or not.”



“IT WAS dreadful,” Leanne told her mom later in her mother’s living room, having taken a cab rather than accept a ride from Mark Collins. She swirled her lemonade. She’d angled herself on the couch facing her mother, who was wedged against the opposite corner. They’d sat like this for years, whether to gossip or have a heartfelt conversation. “He was so angry, so hurt. He wouldn’t let me say anything. I meant to say I didn’t want the damned company, that I didn’t want anything from Lionel.” Nothing for myself, she thought. Recognition of her mother’s loyalty and some money so her mother could retire would have been nice.

Leanne sighed. She didn’t want the company, but she wouldn’t be dismissed as worthless. She’d been overlooked and neglected by the Collins family her entire life. To have her ability to run the company compared to scrapping the place had irritated her.

“Oh, dear,” her mom said when she didn’t continue. “What did you do?”

Leanne shook her head, feeling idiotic. “Exactly what you’re afraid of, I’m sure. I let my feelings run away with me. My mouth ran with them, charging ahead without my permission.”

Her mom laughed. “You’re too blond to have such a temper. If you’d let me dye your hair red, people would at least have a warning.” She patted Leanne’s hand. “So, are you going to compete for the company with the boy?”

“‘The boy’ is four years older than I am, as you well know.” Lionel had admitted to her mother he had a family, Leanne would give him that. He’d been honest, in his way.

“Will you do it?” her mom asked.

Leanne didn’t know. Her pride had taken a hit with Mark’s vehement rejection. By naming her in the will, Lionel had acknowledged her as his daughter. To inherit some money mollified her pride. To be given a chance to take over CoCo, as she and her mother referred to the Collins Company, confused her.

She’d wanted Lionel to honor her mother with an inheritance as well, no matter how small the amount.

“I’m not sure,” she said when she realized her mother still awaited her answer.

“Could you?”

“What? Take it from him?” At her mother’s nod, she shrugged. “I could give him a run for his money, I think. But what would I do if I won?”

“Control CoCo.”

“I’m pretty happy teaching at the university, Mom. What would I want with their company?”

Her mother’s gaze dropped to her own glass. “Revenge?”

Leanne stilled. Avenge her mother? She swallowed. “But…I thought you loved Lionel and didn’t regret your time together?”

Her mother nodded but didn’t raise her head.

“Mom.” She laid her hand over her mother’s.

Her mother looked at her, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “I gave him up and never saw him again. I was the other woman, Lee. I knew I wouldn’t get to keep him. I never intended to take him away from his family. I just wanted him, for however long he could stay.”

Leanne didn’t understand that kind of thinking. If she loved someone, she’d want him all to herself.

Her mother sniffed and sipped from her lemonade glass. “Did you like the boy?”

“Please stop calling him that. His name is Mark.”

Her mother winced, and Leanne cursed her clumsy tongue. Mark had been Lionel’s middle name.

“Although from the way he acted,” Leanne teased, “you’d think it was Barnabus Collins.”

Her mother laughed, as Leanne had hoped, picking up her reference to an old TV show about vampires. “I’m sure that was just the eerie setting. I didn’t notice any pointy teeth, but he definitely had hypnotic eyes.”

“Full of deep-brown sin,” Leanne agreed.

“Better and better,” her mother said, wiggling her eyebrows. “He’s certainly handsome enough to be supernatural.”

“Yeah.” Leanne sighed. “More’s the pity.”

“Why?”

“Mother, he’s not only the enemy, he’s my nephew.”




Chapter Two


Mark poured himself a drink, downed it, then poured another. It had been that kind of day. The alcohol burned his throat, and he tried not to wince at the bitterness. He never could stand the taste. Another reason Father and the Lion thought he was too soft.

“I’ll take one of those,” his mother said, entering the sitting room.

“Don’t you want to ask what I’m having?”

“It doesn’t matter. After your news, I’ll drink anything.”

He poured his mother a Scotch on the rocks and took it to where she lay on the couch. Except for her sharp dark-blue eyes, she looked weary, her face wilted. She’d swung her feet onto the couch, black spiked heels and all, and reclined as though the effort to sit upright was beyond her. Not a hair escaped her expensively maintained blond twist.

Taking a seat in the Queen Anne chair across from her, he reviewed what he wanted to ask. He’d have to proceed carefully. If his mother didn’t like his tone, he’d never find out anything.

“What can you tell me about Leanne Fairbanks?”

Gloria opened an eye for a moment, then put the cold glass back against her forehead. “She’s the Lion’s daughter.”

“She’s about my age.”

“Hmm? Oh, she’s thirty.”

“I was four. So, Grandmother was alive.” He hated to state the obvious, but he needed to gently lead his mother into disclosing pertinent details. If he didn’t finesse his way around her, she’d close up. “Did she know?”

His mother snorted. “Your grandmother knew everything, from the moment he first saw the tramp. Helen knew every time they got together, God help her.”

“I don’t understand. Grandmother would never have put up with the Lion having an affair.”

“You think not? This wasn’t his first, although it was his last. I’m sure this girl is the only illegitimate child we’ll have to deal with. The Lion was careful. The tramp must have tricked him.”

Mark clenched his teeth. He couldn’t refer to Jenny as “the tramp,” but he didn’t want to dissuade his mother from talking, no matter what terms she used. He could only be thankful she’d called Leanne illegitimate, not something worse.

“So,” he said, “this woman had an affair with the Lion and got pregnant. Then what?”

She shrugged. “Then nothing. Helen insisted he ‘come home and stop this silliness,’ I believe were her words.”

“And he did.” It wasn’t a question. Mark knew the Lion. If Grandmother said come home, then home he’d come. “Are you sure he had multiple affairs?”

Gloria drained her glass. “You are naive.”

“He seemed very much in love with Grandmother.”

She laughed, the sound grating on Mark’s nerves. He put up with it because she was his mother and she’d had a trying day, but he didn’t have to like it. As soon as he got his facts, he’d head for his own condo in the city.

“Mark, you’re either going to kill me or keep me young. I just don’t know where you get that sentimental streak. Yes, yes.” She rose and went to the drinks cart. “He loved Helen. He adored her, but he cheated on her. I believe it was about power and an illusion of youth. I’ve never understood how she could turn the other cheek, which she did until the tramp got pregnant. That she couldn’t abide.” His mother glowered into her glass. “We thought she’d gotten rid of the kid. Obviously, we were wrong.”

Mark snapped his mouth closed. Who was this person speaking so casually of “getting rid of the kid,” as though the baby weren’t important, as though it weren’t family? Not the mother who’d adopted him to fill a yearning for a child she couldn’t conceive. Not the mother he’d known all these years.

Of course, he thought he’d known the Lion. He’d never have believed the Lion would cheat on his wife. Nor that Grandmother would accept it, as long as no children came from such a union. So maybe he didn’t know his mother. Or his father, either.

“Did Father ever…step out?”

Gloria chuckled. “Darling,” she said, dropping ice cubes as punctuation, “I am not—click—the type to turn the other cheek. Click Your father never strayed. Click, click.

Mark let go the breath he’d been holding. His world had changed that afternoon, but some truths still held. “Did the Lion know Leanne hadn’t been…? Of course, he must have known she existed to have named her in the will.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” His mother fell back on the couch, not spilling a drop.

Practice? Mark reproached himself for the thought. The revelations of the day had his head spinning.

“I think,” she continued, “the Lion must have kept in touch. Not while Helen lived. He’d never dishonor her wishes that way.”

But he’d sleep around on her? Mark began to feel as though he’d grown up in a madhouse.

“Perhaps he got in contact after Helen died,” Gloria said.

“What matters is that Leanne’s here.”

“We’ll talk to the company’s lawyer. If we can’t have the will overturned due to its unusual nature—which reflects on the Lion’s mental stability at the time of writing it—”

“Benton will testify Lionel had full possession of his faculties.”

Gloria waved a hand in dismissal. “Of course he will. He’ll be protecting his hide. Our lawyer will make sure the judge understands that.”

Mark could only marvel at his mother’s keen mind. Devious and a little scary, but since she acted from love for him, he couldn’t complain. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“We’ll buy her off.”

“No, Mother, we won’t.”

“I’ll get millions from the Lion.”

“Whatever money you get should be yours.”

Gloria leaned forward and grasped his hand, her scarlet nails biting. “What better thing to spend it on? You deserve control of the company, Mark. The Lion had to have been crazy even to think of handing it over to anyone else.”

“She’s not just anyone. She’s his daughter. His blood.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” She leaned back. “The Lion loved you, Mark, as much as he loved his own son.”

He nodded, telling himself it might be true.

“In the meantime,” his mother said, “I’ll get our lawyer to recommend a private detective for the case. See what we can find out about little Miss Fairbanks. And her mother.”

Mark opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away. It didn’t sit right, but he knew it to be a wise course of action. Know thy enemy.

Especially if the enemy possessed killer legs.



LEANNE READ her letter to her mother. “‘You are to convene at the Collins Company boardroom next Tuesday or forfeit your chance to be named Chief Executive Officer.’”

She’d scanned it herself, then brought the notice to her mother’s house to discuss. “I don’t want to go.”

“What do you mean?” her mom demanded. “Gloria and the boy stood in front of a judge and tried to have your father declared insane. If you don’t show up, it’s like saying you agree.”

Three weeks had passed since the revelations in the mausoleum. Her letter had arrived by registered mail, relating the details in “lawyer language” and citing the amount of her cash inheritance. A very nice nest egg. Her mother could retire, and Leanne could quit teaching if she wanted.

Mr. Benton had told Leanne the Collins Company lawyer had argued with Gloria against bringing the case to court on the grounds it would hurt the company’s image. Gloria pursued it nevertheless. A judge, who, according to Gloria, “didn’t have the sense God gave tree sap,” had pronounced the will valid. She had turned the air blue when they lost.

Leanne paced the living room. “Why would I want to run CoCo? I’m not even sure I could, but I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from that family. They’ve had no use for me for the past thirty years. I have no use for them now.”

Her mother stepped in front of her, bringing Leanne to a halt. “Sit. You’re making me dizzy.” She dragged her onto the sofa beside her. “Now, listen. Your father pro—”

“Please don’t call him that. He doesn’t deserve—”

“Your father,” she insisted, “provided for you. I received a check every month after he left, before you were even born. I got a check in my eighth month to cover all my doctor and hospital fees.”

“As if he’s some hero for doling out money. Mom, he was rich—filthy, disgustingly rich. It was a payoff so you wouldn’t make trouble.”

“Lionel knew I wouldn’t make trouble. He gave me money to provide for us. For your safe delivery and care. Every month,” she stressed, “a nice check came in the mail.”

“I know, Mom. I get it. Conscience money.”

“He loved me, Lee.”

Leanne bit her lip and dropped her gaze to their clasped hands. If her mother needed to believe that, she wouldn’t argue.

“And he cared about you. That’s what the money meant. That’s why he mentioned you in the will.”

“But not you.”

The silence hung between them. Leanne wanted to cry out, If he loved you so much, where’s your inheritance? But she wouldn’t hurt her mother with bitter words.

“Let it go, honey,” her mom said quietly. “I’ve had thirty years with you. That’s gift enough.”

Leanne laid her head on her mother’s lap, fighting back tears. “You’re unbelievable.”

She stroked a hand through Leanne’s hair. “I loved him. When you love someone, that’s all that matters. I didn’t care that he was rich. Or married.”

Leanne sat up. “That’s so unlike you.”

“I hope you find a love like that, Leanne.”

She grinned. “You want me to have an affair with a rich married man?”

Her mom chucked her playfully on the chin. “Smarty-pants. I want you to experience a love that will take your breath away. That makes you reexamine everything you thought you knew about yourself. That makes you a new person.”

“I don’t want to have to change to keep some guy. That’s not who I am.”

Her mom frowned. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know. You never imagined you’d ever be with a married man. Then Lionel Collins came along and you changed.”

“He swept me away. I can’t explain it any better. I saw things in him no one else saw, not even his wife. He was gentle and fun and amazing in bed.”

“Eeew! Don’t tell me stuff like that. You’re my mother.”

Her mom leaned toward her and whispered, “I’ve had sex.”

“Stop it.” Leanne laughed and made her index fingers into a cross to ward her off. “Besides, this is about me taking over CoCo.”

“Well, for one thing, we’ll have to stop calling it CoCo. Keep in mind, whoever runs Collins inherits Lionel’s stock and gets control of the company.”

“Yeah, Mr. Benton explained that.” Leanne picked at the seam of a pillow. “Mark looked so hurt by it all.”

“By what?”

“Lionel’s putting him up against me for CoCo.”

“That’s business.”

“He took it personally. I feel bad. It’s wrong, somehow, to fight him for this.”

Her mom’s hand rested on hers. “If you don’t want to do it, just tell them.”

“It’s just more trouble. I’m not part of the family.”

“So, you don’t want your inheritance, either?”

Leanne heard the hurt in her mother’s voice. By not taking these gifts—if the challenge for CoCo could be called a gift—she rejected Lionel, as well. “Oh, no, I’m accepting the money. There’s enough for you to buy a nice home in New Mexico or Arizona. You can retire from cutting hair and being on your feet all day.”

“No, the money is for you. Buy something you’ll enjoy.”

Leanne smiled. “You think I won’t enjoy visiting you someplace nice and warm in the middle of winter? Or sitting by your pool in the summer?”

“Oh, I’m getting a pool now, huh? Well, okay.” She sighed, a smile dancing in her eyes. “If it’ll make you happy.”



MARK PACED the conference room, glancing at the clock. “Mother, it’s time. I’m going in there alone.” He held up his palm to halt her interruption. “I’ll give you all the details on what transpires.”

“I should go with you. I’ll buy the girl out. Teachers don’t get paid that much. She’ll know she can’t compete against you. It’s a smart move.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. Their personal lawyer had obtained information on Leanne. She held a Master’s degree in Business Management and taught at the University of Illinois at Chicago. “She might not have any appreciable business experience, Mother, but she’s not stupid.”

He picked up the investigator’s report from their lawyer. “She’s not just a teacher, she’s a professor. Well-respected.”

“But not tenured.”

“She’s young for that.”

“Mark, the girl is no competition.”

“I agree. I just don’t want to see her embarrassed. She is family.” And that, he told himself, was the only reason he cared.

“Oh, please.”

“Even with the agreements, it’ll be difficult to keep this fiasco out of the papers. Too many people know already. The court case didn’t help. If I have to wipe the floor with my young auntie, I will. I’d just rather not endure a public farce while doing it.”

“She’s hardly worth your concern.”

“I’m concerned with keeping the business. I’m going to run it, as we’ve always planned.”

“Maybe you should charm the girl, keep her off balance. Just don’t let this little Miss-Nothing-from-Nowhere bring down the business with a scandal. No one needs to hear about her harlot mother becoming the Lion’s mistress or raising his illicit offspring all on her own.”

Mark swung around to berate his mother, but stopped. Leanne stood in the doorway, ashen and wide-eyed. He took a step toward her.

Leanne backed away. Her gaze held his, and it seemed she checked her tears by sheer force of will.

“So you’re here,” Gloria said. “I suppose it’s time for you two to get your first assignment.”

Leanne nodded slowly, then straightened her shoulders. “Yes, I do believe it’s time to begin.”

Mark followed her out the door to the next room, unsure what to say. He could strangle his mother for her hateful words. He wished he’d had the chance to defend Leanne. He felt awful. The poor woman had stepped into a vicious world of cutthroat dealings. She’d be out of her element. No one was exempt from cruelty here. No matter how stunning her green eyes, how shapely her legs.

He pulled his thoughts back into line. This woman, for all her claim to be related to his adopted father, was a stranger. A stranger who would try to take his birthright from him.

Well, no, he checked himself. Actually, it was her birthright. His by right of adoption and years of damned hard work. He was the non-blood Collins, the outsider. They were related only on paper.

Does that mean we could…?

With an irritated grunt, he stepped into the room behind her. Introductions had taken place while he’d been standing in the hall like an idiot.

“Mr. Mulvany.” Mark reached across and shook the man’s hand. He greeted each of the six board members and Todd Benton. He watched Leanne slide into a chair, then took the one next to her. They sat facing the board across the table. He shook his head. Just like on the TV show.

Harrison Mulvany III reached inside his coat pocket and slid a white envelope across the table to Leanne. “I’ve been entrusted with this, my dear. I don’t know the contents myself. I’m just passing along a favor.”

He reached into his pocket, then slid a cream envelope toward Mark. Mark watched out of the corner of his eye as Leanne slit hers open. Her mouth tightened; her eyes narrowed.

He slit open his own envelope. The Lion had left him a brief note: “I’m counting on you to prove I haven’t wasted all these years. Prove you’re a Collins.”

Mark very carefully folded the note, then fitted it back into the envelope. He put it in his inside breast pocket, against his heart.

When would he fit in? What the hell did he have to do to finally belong to this family?

The Lion had just answered those questions. He’d fit in when he won. Only then would he prove he was a Collins.

“No,” Leanne said.

He looked at her, forgetting she’d just received a note from the dead, also.

“I’m not interested.”

Mulvany nodded, then slid her a cream-colored envelope. “From your father.”

Mark started. This one came from the Lion? “May I ask who the first note was from?”

She turned her head and looked right through him. “I’m sure you know.” Then she turned her attention to the sheet of stationery. After a moment, she put it in her purse.

Benton cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

Mulvany nodded.

“You’ve met the board members,” Benton said. “They wanted an opportunity to look you over. Now all but Mr. Mulvany, Mr. Garland and Mrs. Metcalf will leave.”

The other four filed out. The door closed, and silence descended. Mark’s throat tightened. He knew he would win. Leanne had no experience while he’d had twenty years working right here at Collins Company. Still, the tension of being measured against the Lion’s expectations bored into his head.

Benton opened a folder in front of him. “This is how we proceed. I have given the first challenge to Mr. Mulvany, who will oversee the competition. The three board members present will reconvene after each challenge’s time limit to review your effort. They will determine who wins each phase. The last challenge carries the most weight in their determination of the winner for the position of CEO and control of the Lion’s stock shares. Questions?”

Leanne shook her head.

Mark asked, “Is there any recourse other than this competition?”

“I’m sorry, but no,” Benton said. “Should either of you choose not to compete, you will be disqualified. The CEO position and stocks will be awarded to the other person.”

Mark looked at the board members. “As acting head—” It grated on him to phrase it that way. He should be in charge. “—of Collins, I want a written promise from each of you to ensure total confidentiality. This would hurt the company should it turn up in the papers.”

He withdrew affidavits for each member and slid them across the table. “The Collins lawyers drew these up. You may have your lawyers look at them, but know that I will not continue with any discussion of this farce until these are signed.”

Taking the last paper out of the folder, he set it in front of Leanne.

She looked at it, then him. With raised eyebrows, she asked, “Where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“I want a guarantee of your silence, as well.”

“Trust me, I don’t want this to get out.”

“Nor do I. However, in the interest of fair play—” Her cold glare indicated that she considered him incapable of being fair. His neck warmed, but he held her gaze when it clashed with his.

“I want to make sure,” she continued, “that when the challenges are awarded in my favor, and should I be granted succession of the line—”

Her cat-like smirk reminded him of his “heir apparent” remark in the mausoleum. Heat crept from his neck to his cheeks, and he only hoped it didn’t show on his face. He allowed a smile to flirt with his lips, acknowledging her jab, but not bowing before it.

Her smile flashed, then disappeared. “I want to be assured you won’t run to the papers to cry foul or try to destroy CoCo once you no longer head it.”

“CoCo?”

Her cheeks appeared a shade pinker. “Our pet name for the Collins Company.”

“‘Our pet name?’ Yours and your mother’s?”

At the mention of her mother, Leanne’s face hardened. A sore spot. Good to know, although he doubted he’d use it against her in business. However, the knowledge might come in handy for their private jousts.

Leanne turned back to the table. “Mr. Benton, do you see anything in this document that would make you advise a client against signing?”

“No, it looks standard. However, I would advise you to seek your own counsel—”

“Very well,” Leanne cut in. “Thank you. Now, if we could make a copy of this please? I wouldn’t want Mr. Collins to be without his own copy to sign.”

She sat back and crossed her arms.

Mark nodded to Benton, who rose and called in the Lion’s secretary, Mrs. Pickett. While Benton handed her the paper and gave her instructions in a low voice, Leanne sat up and spoke to the board.

“I notice you obey the directives of Mr. Collins. He has merely to nod, and his wishes are fulfilled. I would hope that as we are competing for the same prize and I might be appointed the head of this company, you will award me the same honor.”

The board members shifted in their seats.

“What are you saying, Ms. Fairbanks?” Mark asked.

“If this is to be a fair game, so to speak, I will need the aid of the staff as well. I know you’ve worked for the loyalty you command. I don’t expect any. I’m sure I’m considered an interloper. Little Miss Nobody from Nowhere.”

Her arrow hit its target. Mark couldn’t let that pass without comment. “I’m sorry you overheard that, Leanne,” he said quietly. “My mother is very upset.”

She threw him a look that expressed her disinterest in his mother’s feelings.

“Please understand that her opinions are not necessarily mine,” he said.

“But then, to you, I’m just the ‘auntie’ you’re going to wipe the floor with.”

He turned away. He wouldn’t apologize for his determination to win control of the Collins Company or to prove himself worthy.

“Ms. Fairbanks,” Mr. Mulvany said, “I will oversee this farce, as Mark calls it. Rest assured you’ll be given every cooperation. I’ve been informed you’re the Lion’s natural child. Lionel Collins held my respect as a businessman and a friend. May I say welcome to you, and good luck.”

She tipped her head in acknowledgment. With queenly presence, Mark thought.

“Thank you,” she said. “Under those conditions and with your conscientious administration of the contest, I will agree to compete.”

Mulvany beamed.

Mark swore under his breath. With one show of vulnerability, Leanne had made Mulvany her champion. From the smiles on the faces of the other two board members, Mark knew favor had shifted to her. Now he was the big baddie, trying to trick this sweet young innocent out of her inheritance.

He set his shoulders. Fine. She’d won this round by getting them on her side. Mulvany would look out for her welfare. It wouldn’t be easy for him to overcome her personal victory, but he would. Just because they liked her didn’t make her a good businesswoman.

Mrs. Pickett returned with the papers, which he and Leanne both signed. Benton took possession of all the documents. “I’ll have copies made for your attorney.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I have no qualms about proceeding.”

“Then, here it is,” Mr. Mulvany said. “The first challenge is for each of you to make a proposal of something Collins Company—CoCo, if I may?” He smiled at Leanne, who nodded.

Mark simmered.

“Something CoCo needs,” he continued. “Whether this be a new product, a new client to sign, a company to take over, or something else will be up to you. I’m sorry to say this, Ms. Fairbanks, as it seems unfair to rush you, but the time limit is two weeks. We are to reconvene in this room to hear your proposals.”

Mark gritted his teeth. The man favored her, but did he have to fawn like that?

“At that time,” Mulvany continued, “we three will decide which of you developed the better proposal. We will then move on to phase two of the challenge.”

“I’m eager to begin,” Leanne said, her gaze fixed on Mark.

He admired her boldness and her courage. The challenge in her eyes had blood rushing to his groin. “I can hardly wait.”




Chapter Three


Leanne swallowed a sigh as she inspected the Collins financial reports. CoCo basically owned every kind of small firm imaginable. Everything one needed, CoCo had taken over a company that made it. They specialized in buying small-to medium-sized companies, revamping them with either an administrative clean sweep or a production overhaul, then selling the company again for a profit.

She would lose this challenge to Mark, and her lack of knowledge irked her. She didn’t know of any business in trouble. She couldn’t find any product CoCo needed to make at the companies it currently owned. Leanne tossed the report on her desk to rub her temples. Mark had found her a middle-management-sized office. She’d had no inclination, nor time, to decorate it, so it sat bare and uninspiring with its beige walls and carpet. It felt unused, unmoved-into, just a transitory space.

Leanne sighed. Pretty soon, she wouldn’t even have a temporary spot at Collins. She’d be back at school in her real office. Fortunately, she’d been scheduled to teach one night class on Monday and two day classes which met Tuesdays and Thursdays. She’d shown up at CoCo Monday, Wednesday and Friday of the last two weeks, sometimes in a catatonic state, but trying nevertheless. For all the good it would do her.

Mark, however, didn’t share that problem. He knew which companies CoCo had been looking at for takeover. He’d come up with ideas for products to manufacture. Glancing at her desk made her groan; she owned several Collins desk accessories, although, since they sported the brand name, Mark of Excellence, she hadn’t known that. All the Mark of Excellence products had begun as Mark Collins’s ideas. His little improvements on everyday items had made CoCo a fortune.

An idea for a new product line stumped her. She’d looked into their client list and drawn a blank there, too. She hated to admit defeat, but the challenge ended tomorrow.

“Something I can help you with?”

Leanne stiffened at the sound of Mark’s voice at her doorway. She gave him a small, tight smile. “No, I’m fine.”

They’d run into each other as she’d inspected different departments in the company. He exuded confidence and control. Mark ran the operations as acting head until the competition decided their futures. Never had she seen him so much as ruffle his hair in frustration over the double stresses of keeping CoCo going and vying for the right to do so.

“Have you had lunch?”

She eyed him. Every time she saw him, he wore a dark business suit. This one, a navy blue, showed off his wide shoulders, narrow waist and long legs. Mark always appeared professionally turned out. His hair lay in tidy near-black neatness. His tie always coordinated.

She felt underdressed. Her brown pantsuit had worked at the university but didn’t fit here. No doubt she looked harassed and wrinkled compared to his cool assurance. She’d never be able to think of an answer to the challenge. She had so much to learn—

“Leanne?”

Pulled from her panic over the project, Leanne couldn’t remember his question. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Have you had lunch?”

His faint smile annoyed her. He knew all too well she hadn’t been eating at the lunchroom here. He knew she hadn’t come up with a product or a client or—

“Is that a no?”

She shook her head. “No.” No, I haven’t eaten, and no, I won’t eat with you.

“Well, if you have time, I’d like to take you to lunch.”

She opened her mouth to decline. He raised his palm to halt her.

“Before you say no, let me suggest a truce. No company talk. I thought maybe we should get to know one another.” His shoulders moved in an awkward shrug. “We are family, of a sort.”

His suggestion threw her off-balance. Although formal, it was still an overture. She didn’t expect him to be charming or personable, but here he was, reaching out to her. She could ignore the rush of attraction she felt, but she couldn’t deny its existence. Mark usually came across as aloof, except in Gloria’s presence. Then he seemed rigid and proper, with a fine edge of tension.

Gloria. Something niggled at the back of Leanne’s mind. Something to do with this lunch invitation and his mother, but she couldn’t recall it. Without a valid reason to excuse herself, Leanne said, “Lunch would be nice.”

Mark grinned, and she had to catch her breath. Genuine humor lit his eyes, created dimples and nearly made her swoon. If he weren’t off-limits to her, she might have had to reach for support. She’d never seen this side of him.

“That’s a very cautious acceptance,” he said, “but since you did agree, I’m holding you to it. Maybe after we’ve had lunch, you’ll find out I’m not so bad. Next time I ask, you might even say, ‘yes, thank you, I’d be delighted.’”

Leanne laughed, rising. “One can hope.”

He crooked his arm to escort her. She stared. Was he kidding? Besides being ridiculously old-fashioned, she would appear to be flirting with him. The Collins people would never take her seriously. “Shall I get my coat or are we eating in?”

“Let’s not eat here. We’d never have a quiet moment, and all eyes would be on us.”

She murmured her agreement as she reached his side. Whenever they’d been in the same room, all activity had stopped while the employees observed them. It unnerved her, which she tried to hide. She had enough pressure to deal with at CoCo; she didn’t need constant scrutiny. “If you’d just let me know where you’ll be, I could try to avoid you.”

“I thought you’d been doing that already.”

Leanne stopped. Had his voice held a tinge of disappointment? “No, I haven’t. I’ve just been running around the place, trying to learn everything fast.”

She mentally slapped herself. Don’t admit your vulnerabilities. It gave him an edge, and being so far behind in matters of the company, she couldn’t afford to give him any further advantage.

“I’d be happy to help you.”

She spun to face him, astounded.

His mouth hung open, his brown eyes wide. He looked so stunned, Leanne laughed. After a moment, Mark chuckled. “Well,” he said, “maybe not happy.”

“And maybe not really helpful.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “I’d like to assure you of my willingness and honorable intentions, but I’m just not that good a person.”

“You’re human.” She grabbed her jacket and purse. “In the same situation, I wouldn’t help you, either.”

He stared at her. She flashed a grin as she walked past him. His quiet laughter reached her. Maybe lunch with Mark wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

He hailed a taxi at the curb. “Moving my car just isn’t worth the hassle. I hope you don’t mind?”

She shook her head, well-acquainted with Chicago parking.

They got out at a Chinese restaurant near enough to CoCo that they could have walked. Maybe multimillionaires didn’t walk, she mused. Glancing around the room, Leanne didn’t recognize anyone. They chose a table against an inner wall for privacy. A fish tank sat in the middle of the dark paneling. “Not the CoCo—I mean, the Collins Company executives’ favorite lunch spot?”

Mark smiled. “Which is why I chose it.”

“Don’t want to be seen fraternizing with the enemy?”

“There’s that, and I thought it would be more private. I’d like to get to know you, since you’re the Lion’s daughter.”

Leanne narrowed her eyes, pretending to study the menu as the waitress set their tea before them. She doubted his motives and for good reason. “You’ve had thirty years to get to know me, Mark. I may be just a business professor, but don’t play me for a fool.”

“You think I have some other reason?”

She glanced at him. His raised eyebrow gave him a pompous, cynical air. His arrogance stiffened the hairs on her neck. “You don’t consider me much of a threat, do you?”

His gaze dropped to the menu.

Perhaps it was better he didn’t answer, she thought. Then she wouldn’t have to dump that tiny cup of weak, lukewarm tea in his lap and walk out. With a small smile, she pictured him blotting tea off his crisp slacks.

They ordered crab Rangoon and egg drop soup to start.

“Everything on the menu looks good,” Leanne said to break the silence. “I’m not picky if I don’t have to cook.” She calculated how much time she could afford to take for lunch. She needed to do some grading. She usually ate at her desk, reading, grading and adjusting her lesson plans. Although it would have been wise to chat up some of CoCo’s administration during lunch, she had two demanding “jobs” and couldn’t take the time. She had to preserve the job that paid. “Maybe the Hunan chicken.”

“Then I’ll get the Mongolian beef. We can share.”

The simple suggestion shouldn’t have bothered her, but the idea of sharing anything with Mark made her frown. The waitress appeared and took their orders.

“You want just plates?” the waitress asked. “Or I bring it family-style? You serve selves. Take what want.”

Mark frowned. “We’ll have it…We’ll serve ourselves.”

The little woman jerked her head up and down several times and left.

He couldn’t even say “family-style.” Leanne swallowed. What a disaster. She couldn’t be a casual friend with this man. He represented all the pain from her childhood, and he obviously had issues of his own regarding her.

“So,” Mark said, “how’s it going at Collins?”

She shrugged.

“I’m not trying to find out what you’re doing.” He glanced at the fish tank, drawing her eye to it also. Goldfish darted through the green plastic fronds, scattering the striped yellow and black fish. The blue-and-orange clown fish floated along, seeming not to notice the crazy flashes of gold. “Perhaps we should discuss something other than work.”

“What would that be? Our upbringings?” She bit her lip. “Mark, face it. We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“I disagree. I’m very interested in your upbringing, especially since I didn’t know anything about you until a month ago. When you say I’ve had thirty years to get to know you, you’re mistaken.”

“What do you know about me already?” She knew he’d had her investigated. She remembered the conversation she’d heard between him and Gloria the day she’d gone to CoCo to refuse the challenge. Their harsh words and indictment of her mother had changed her mind about competing.

A decision she’d made rashly and had regretted ever since.

“I know you’re a professor in business at the University of Illinois at Chicago. I know you’re single and have an apartment at the end of Rush Street.” He smiled. “An interesting location, but I don’t know what to make of it.”

“It came available five years ago. Being in the midst of all the bars and fun appealed to me then.”

The waitress set their soup in front of them. “Crab Rangoon out in minute.” She hastened away.

“And now?” Mark asked.

She tasted her soup. “It’s far enough away from UIC I feel like I’ve left work, but it’s convenient to the El, making transportation easy. I’m ten floors up, so the noise doesn’t keep me awake at night, and it’s a well-policed neighborhood.”

“I’ll bet.”

She grinned. “You didn’t party in college?”

“Sure, I did.”

She smiled to herself as she finished her soup, unable to picture him at a fraternity toga party. He struck her as so serious. “I’d like to move to a house one day. Right now, there’s no need. What about you? Where do you live?”

“I have a place at Jennings.”

“Jennings Towers? The new condos?” Leanne whistled. “I’ve heard they have a lot of square footage for a location in the city.” Pricey, too. But then, he could afford it. Another difference in their upbringings.

Mark finished his soup and set his bowl to the side with hers. As though this had been a prearranged signal, the waitress plunked down two small plates, a serving platter of crab Rangoon and a bowl of red sauce, then whisked their bowls away.

“I could use her at Collins,” Mark said, staring after the woman as she made a speedy crossing of the room. “She could help Mrs. Pickett.”

Leanne bit into the crisp fried appetizer and almost moaned. Filled with cream cheese and spices, it contained chunks of genuine crabmeat. Her lids dropped as she took another bite. “This is delicious.”

Mark’s eyes darkened to a deep rich brown. “I can tell.”

“How? You haven’t had any yet.”

He shifted in his seat. “That’s okay. I’ll just watch you eat yours.”

Leanne set the last tidbit on her plate. She cleared her throat, feeling heat wash over her face. “I enjoy good food.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” His white teeth gleamed in his smile. Her heart stuttered.

He’s your nephew. The cold, mean voice in her head had her looking away. Remind him of your relationship, she thought. Remind yourself. “What was it like growing up a Collins?”

His smile disappeared. He glanced over her shoulder, but the little waitress didn’t come running with their entrees. “Normal, I guess.”

“I don’t know anything about your father, even though he’s my half-brother. Are you like him or more like Gloria?”

“My father, I guess. I was raised to head up Collins, so I’m more business-minded than my mother.”

Leanne hunched her shoulders. Again she felt the pangs of how unfair this competition was to Mark.

“Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, “but it’s a fact.”

Her expression must have given away her thoughts. She’d have to watch that in the business world. If she had the chance to worry about it.

The waitress brought their food, and they portioned out their servings without talking. The red peppers in the Hunan chicken burned her throat and had her reaching for water.

“What will you do when I win?” she asked.

Mark drew back, blinked, and then laughed. “You mean after rushing my mother to the E.R.?”

Leanne smiled. “Gloria will have a fit.”

He shook his head. “Gloria will have a heart attack.” He raised his teacup. “Here’s to a fair fight.”

She raised her cup and extended it toward his.

“May the best man win,” he said.

Clink. The forward motion tapped her cup against his as his words registered.

“Hey!” She snatched back her hand.

Mark chuckled, and she couldn’t help joining him.

“You’re a sneak.”

“I’m a Collins.”

She absorbed that for a moment. The longer she didn’t respond, the worse the comment sounded. “Does that mean it won’t be a fair fight?”

“I meant it as a joke, Leanne. I won’t knowingly make the competition any more unfair than it already is.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? What have you done?”

“You mean besides running the company since the Lion’s death? Or working there all my life? Getting all that insider knowledge you don’t have?” He tossed down a bite of Mongolian beef. “Not a thing.”

She winced. “Sorry. I don’t know you, but I do know big business. It can be cutthroat.”

Mark blew out his breath. “I tend to get upset when someone questions my integrity.”

After a moment his lips twitched. Her breath caught in her throat. She could picture them being friends. She’d lose that friendship as soon as the contest ended, no matter the outcome. She didn’t want to get close to him when it would end badly. Nevertheless, excitement shivered over her skin.

“I’ll remember that,” she said. “No cracks about your integrity. Wouldn’t want to break your heart.”

“Hey, just because I’m a Collins doesn’t mean I don’t have a heart. Must have gotten it from my real parents.”

Leanne froze. “Your what?”




Chapter Four


“My real parents,” Mark said, looking at her quizzically. “My biological ones, I mean. Gloria and Warren are my real parents, of course.”

She swallowed, unable to form words. Words? She could barely breathe. “You’re adopted?”

“I thought you knew.”

She shook her head, overwhelmed.

Mark shrugged. “It’s not a secret. My mother—Gloria, I mean—couldn’t conceive. Adoption was the only answer for her and my father. Warren.”

This time she nodded to show she understood. But while she followed his explanation, she didn’t understand at all. How could she have not known? Did her mom know?

We’re not related by blood? Possibilities rose to her mind. To tear herself away from images of she and Mark getting more intimately involved, she asked, “Is that why you call Gloria by her first name?”

“Kids call their parents whatever they’re taught to call them.” He took a bite of chicken.

Leanne stared at her plate but couldn’t imagine trying to swallow right then. Her throat knotted against the idea.

“When I asked about why I was brought up to call them by their first names,” he went on, “they said it never occurred to them to have me call them anything else. I tried calling them ‘Mother’ and ‘Father,’ but they seemed more comfortable being ‘Gloria’ and ‘Warren.’” He shrugged, as if it were no big deal.

Leanne nodded and stirred her tea before realizing she hadn’t added anything to stir. She set the spoon aside, hoping Mark hadn’t noticed. It’s okay that I find him attractive, she thought with relief. She glanced at him again. Attractive didn’t begin to express her opinion of his appearance.

His face hardened. “Don’t be thrown by this. I’m a Collins. Not by blood, maybe, but I’ve earned my way into this family.”

Perplexed and still reeling with the implications of his adoption on their possible future relationship, she said, “You don’t earn your way into a family.”

“You do if you’re not born into one.”

“That’s not how it works, Mark.”

He crossed his arms on the table and glowered at her. “How would you know anything about it? You’re not adopted.”

She stared at him, a disbelieving laugh caught on that knot in her throat. “You think being born with Lionel’s blood in me made me a Collins?”

He flushed.

“Go talk to your mother,” she said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You know perfectly well. It’s no secret how she feels. How any of you feel about me. I’m thirty years old, Mark, and in that thirty years, not one member of the Collins family has ever contacted me.”

“I didn’t know about you.”

“But Gloria did. I’m betting your father—my half-brother—” she emphasized “—did. Lionel certainly knew about me. But other than sending checks, he couldn’t be bothered. I’m sure he had his secretary write them.”

“What checks?”

Leanne slumped back in her chair. She hadn’t meant to mention the money. “Lionel sent monthly checks. My mom sees them as a testament to his love for us.”

“Sees them? Are they still coming?”

She nodded. “Up till his death. I’ve banked them for my children. An inheritance. I thought about returning them, but why should I? Lionel was rich. My kids, at least, should benefit from that.”

She watched the fish swim futilely in their tank. Around they went, through the plastic grass, past the fake rock formations.

“How do you see them?”

Trapped.

“Leanne?”

She blinked and focused on Mark. “What?”

“How do you view the checks the Lion sent?”

“Oh.” Picking up her fork, she stirred through the Hunan chicken. “It’s conscience money, although alleging Lionel had scruples is a stretch for me. It’s payoff, but don’t tell my mother that.”

“Why not?” He speared a piece of beef.

Leanne tore her gaze from his lips as they closed around the fork. Not my nephew kept beating against her temples like tribal drums. Should she dance or circle the wagons? She ate something off her plate trying to appear in control. Unfortunately, she couldn’t fool herself. “Mom wouldn’t listen. She thinks he loved her.”

“Can I ask a question without you biting my head off?”




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