SAMPLE CHAPTERS

A Merger of Hearts 

A Novel of Suspense, Love and Loss

Deborah Sarty-Campeau

Copyright © 2024 Deborah Sarty All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Chapter One

 "I don’t care how you do it. Just do it.” Briefcase clutched under one arm and a cell phone held to his ear with the other, Grey Stone hurried out the door and onto the tarmac at Pearson International Airport. Worldwide’s private jet was on the tarmac, engines running. The old man was anxious to depart, but he couldn’t leave without Grey.

 Grey never broke stride as he disconnected the call and then speed-dialed his secretary. "Sherry. I left the Paldy documents on my desk. They need to be there by ten this morning. Thanks.” He listened with a corner of his mind as Sherry rattled off his daily schedule, but his thoughts were on the old man and the future.

 One day, if everything went according to plan, Worldwide Enterprises would be his. Grey knew everything about the company, and when it was his, there would be no stopping him.

 He’d earned it. Every penny of it. For years, he’d poured every ounce of sweat, every beat of his heart into making Worldwide the money-making machine it was today. It was his name on the masthead as CEO. It was his reputation, guts, and skill that his shareholders admired.

 "Cancel all my appointments," he broke in, impatiently. “I’m at Pearson. Yes. We’re on our way to Vancouver. Book a suite, okay? I’ll deal with everything from there."

 The attendant, Hawkins, scowled at him from the plane’s door. The man was fiercely loyal to his employer, Monk Meehan, but he didn’t like Grey. With good reason. Grey knew all about his unsavory background. Once Monk was gone, Hawkins would be out on his ear.

 Grey hurried up the steps and onto the plane, tucking the cell phone into his breast pocket. He slung himself and his briefcase into the empty seat across from Monk. Immediately, the door slammed shut, and the plane started to move. The captain’s voice over the intercom asked everyone to buckle up. Grey ignored the request.

 “Sorry I was late," Grey apologized. "A minor crisis - Simpson’s having last-minute jitters."

 The old man waved his apology aside with a sigh. "You handled the problem." There was a time when the old man would have been interested enough to ask for details, but those days were long past. "Did you bring it?"

 "Of course," Grey answered. He opened his briefcase and passed the portfolio across to the man who held his future in his hands.

 Upfront, Hawkins frowned at him for not having his case stowed under the seat, but Grey ignored him. He worked on several files while Monk, a frail 80-year-old man, read through the dossier. Until last year, Monk had been in robust health. Now, the cancer sweeping through his body barely acknowledged the poisonous drugs regularly pumped into his veins. The doctors kept trying, though, but more because that's what doctors did than because there was any real hope.

 Last year, Grey had become CEO, but it was a change of title only. He'd been running the business for so long, he couldn't remember a time when he'd last answered to anyone. Not even to Monk Meehan, majority shareholder and chairman of the board.

 The plane surged forward in the burst of speed that would lift them off the ground. Grey was impatient to get into the air so he could use the seat phone. Running a corporation the size of Worldwide meant that he had to use every available second.

 "This is very thorough," Monk's voice was hoarse from years of smoking. "You never cease to amaze me with the information you dig up."

 "Information is power." Grey said, his attention on the file before him. "Once you have the data, the money is easy to get."

 "Hmm. Never cared for listening at doors, myself." The old man turned back a few pages and reread a paragraph.

 "Listening at doors, as you say, saved my ass when I was a kid." Grey meant it literally, but neither Monk nor anyone else would ever know the sordid details. That was one piece of information he meant to keep to himself.

 Monk pulled a photo from the file and handed it to Grey. "What do you think, son?"

 "She's very pretty," he said, setting his file aside and accepting the photograph. He shrugged as if the subject didn't make the slightest difference to him, but Grey had long ago memorized every detail of the young woman's face. "You should be very proud. She's done quite well for herself this past year. She's single-handedly run Tiswell Agency ever since her boss became ill." The parallel between them was just one more thing about the woman that intrigued him.

 The old man chuckled. "I dare say you wouldn't throw her out of bed."

 The old man didn't harbor any fatherly feelings about his daughter, but still, the remark was tasteless even for Monk. But that was between Monk and his daughter; it was no concern of his.

 "I'm not sure anyone would get her into bed, Monk. I talked to everyone who knew her, and they all agreed that she hasn't shown any interest in men since her college days. The only man in her life right now is her friend and boss, this Jason Tiswell. Reports are that the Tiswells have become family to her."

 "Doesn't like men? Her mother's doing, no doubt. Amanda always was a difficult woman, wouldn't listen to reason. Purely obstinate. Every time I told her to do something, damn woman did the exact opposite. I hoped she would raise Cynthia to accede gracefully to a husband's wishes, but I doubt it."

 "Tia, sir. She goes by the name Tia Elliott now." Grey forced his finger not to trace the outline of Tia's delicate heart-shaped face. "And I doubt it, too. She sounds like an independent woman with a mind of her own. Highly intelligent, too, judging by the advertising campaigns she creates. She's made a mark in that industry in only four years." Reluctantly, he passed the photo back to Monk.

 "Hm. No doubt. I'd trade ten of her for one son like you, though. Damn unfair that she's my only offspring. I should have adopted you fifteen years ago when you walked into my office and told me how badly I needed you. I thought you were just brash enough that you might be right, and you were."

 "It's been mutual. As mentors go, I couldn't have asked for a better one." He didn't mention that Monk's worth as a mentor was that he stayed out of Grey's way.

 Monk waved the flattery away, embarrassed. "Bet you didn't know that Isis is wife number six, did you?" he asked, not bothering to wait for a reply. "You'd think out of six wives, I'd have sired more than just one daughter. Isis says it's all my fault. Hell, so did the other five. But I guess now, I have to admit the point." Monk sighed heavily. "I always thought I was more of a man than that."

 "Being a man has nothing to do with how many children you have, nor whether those children are male or female. You've accomplished a great many things in your life. Personally, I'm honored to have known you."

 "Yes, yes. I know all that. Still... I sure wanted me a son. I'm just glad that I have you."

 "Which one was Tia's mother?" Grey asked. He already knew the answer but wanted to change the subject. Sentimentality had no place in business.

 "Amanda was number three. The feistiest of the lot. Isis isn't feisty, but she's smart. Knows I'm dying, so she's decided to stick around for the pickings. But I've got a plan that will fix her little red wagon. She's in for one big surprise once I'm in the ground."

 Grey hoped so. He had plans for Worldwide that didn't include Monk's crazy wife.

 "You know, Grey," Monk continued, "when Amanda left with Tia, I didn't much care. I wanted a son and, back then, thought I still had lots of time. I never bothered keeping track of them, not that Amanda would have made it easy for me." The old man sighed. "Now that I'm old and dying and Tia is my only child, I wish I'd done things differently. I guess I overlooked the fact that a girl child was useful to form alliances."

 It hit Grey like a sucker punch to the gut, an image of a small child to spoil and bounce on his knee. But since it was so far out of the realm of possibility for him, he brushed the stray thought aside. It was nothing to him if Monk hadn't valued what he'd had. The world was full of parents who had abandoned their children, something he'd experienced firsthand. Monk wasn't the first such parent, and he wouldn't be the last.

 Grey picked up the file he'd been working on. "I'm surprised it took a month to find your daughter. It seems that your ex-wife covered her tracks rather well. She really didn't want you to find her." He signed some documents and put the file back in his briefcase.

 Monk chuckled. "Clever, she was. Too clever for a woman if you ask me. Don't you agree?"

 "Oh, I don't know. I like a woman to be intelligent. The female executives I've hired over the last few years are highly intelligent, well-educated and have contributed significantly to Worldwide's success."

 "I bet they are beautiful, too," Monk said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Have you bedded them all yet?"

 "Of course not,” Grey said irritably. He retrieved another file and scanned its contents. "That's offensive."

 Monk laughed. “I'm just saying what all red-blooded men think. Letting women into the workforce was the biggest mistake we ever made. They belong at home, caring for their men and raising their children."

 Grey shook his head. He'd argue the point further but knew he was wasting his time. Monk was a stubborn old man whose mind was still rooted in the fifties mentality of family-based TV Shows from that era. One of his foster parents had been addicted to shows like that. Grey had seen more of them than he cared to.

 "I’d better tell you what this is about," Monk said, oblivious to the awkward silence.

 "Sir?” Here it was, the moment he’d been waiting for. Monk would tell him the company was his and then he’d have everything he’d ever wanted. Grey set the file aside and closed his briefcase.

 “Hmm. Well, Grey, it’s no secret between us that I’m dying, though Lord help our share price if the rest of the world finds out. Before I go, I want to take care of the succession. You know I want you to take over for me..."

 Grey nodded. They’d discussed this too often over the last year to waste time now pretending surprise. The old man had promised to have the legal end of it wrapped up for this meeting.

 "...but if I will the stocks to you, Isis will tie you up in court. By the time the dust settles, the company will be devastated. I worked too long to let that happen.” Monk paused while a fit of coughing rocked his frail body. Grey signaled Hawkins for a glass of water.

 His throat soothed, the old man continued. ”Grey, I want you to marry Tia. She has the best claim of all, and through her, you’ll get control of the company. If she’s like her mother, I have no doubt she’ll be a bit headstrong and try to control you, but you’re man enough to keep her in her place."

 What the hell was this!?! Stunned, Grey stared open-mouthed. The old man was blindsiding him. Monk had promised him the company outright, no strings attached. Well, in Grey’s book, marriage carried some pretty heavy chains. He didn’t want to get married. The only role models he had to judge marriage by were the dubious examples of various foster parents. That was overlooking Monk’s six dismal tries. He didn’t want to end up like him.

 Anger stuck in his throat, nearly choking him. With difficulty, he swallowed accusations of betrayal. Monk had always been unpredictable, but Grey had always found a way to deal with him. He had to keep a clear head and find a way to reason with the old man.

 Obviously, Monk had been thinking of this for a while. Asking Grey to find his daughter was proof of that. It galled him that he’d been kept in the dark until now.

 "Don’t be ridiculous," Grey said at last. "There has to be another way. Let me talk to Isis. All she wants is money. The company has enough cash to buy her out. Hell, I have enough cash for that."

 "Ha! You don’t know Isis as well as you think you do, boy.” Monk retrieved a pile of papers from a second folder on the seat beside him. He waved them under Grey’s nose. “You think I didn’t think of that? You think I didn’t try to talk sense into that blasted woman? Even got the lawyers after her, but she isn’t budging."

 Grey rubbed his temple, thinking. "Why don’t you let me talk to her?” Now he understood why Monk had insisted that Grey accompany him to Vancouver. It’s where Tia Elliott lived. "She’ll listen to me where she won’t to you."

 Monk chuckled. "Isis is afraid of you. But that don’t mean she’ll back down. It’s too late anyway. On the advice of my lawyers, I’m not budging on this. Once you show me the marriage certificate, I’ll change my will. If you don’t marry her, then I dump the shares on the market. I want you to have the company, but I’d rather take it apart myself than let Isis get her grubby little paws on it."

 Grey gripped his seat with whitened knuckles. He needed a few moments to rein in his temper.

 “This is ludicrous, you know," he said, a carefully calm tone hiding the way his every muscle clenched in anger. "No one knows better than you how impermanent marriage can be. If I married your daughter and then she divorced me, she’d keep the shares. Then where would we be?"

 "Hell, Grey, you’ve always tried to do better than me at everything. Just be better than I was at marriage. I wouldn’t ask you to make this sacrifice if there was another way, but I’ll be roasted in hell before I let Isis have those shares.” Monk leaned across the aisle and slapped a bony hand on Grey’s armrest. "This is the only way. I pay my lawyers enough not to be wrong about this. You want the company, son, you have to marry my daughter." Monk sank back into his seat, exhausted.

 Grey ran his fingers through his below-collar hair. He sat further back in his seat and let his head fall against the headrest. An intense tension headache spread from his temples into his eyes. Inside, he vibrated with anger. As much as the woman intrigued him, he didn’t want to marry Tia Elliott or anyone else.

 What he wanted, what he’d been expecting, was control of Worldwide Enterprises. He wanted it so badly he could taste it, so badly he thought he’d do anything to get it. But when he’d examined the possibilities from every angle, he hadn’t seen this one coming.

 Here it was and he had to deal with it. So he willed his muscles to unclench, starting with his toes and working his way up. When his body was again relaxed and under control, he made his decision.

 "It won’t be easy," he said irritably. He retrieved his notebook from his pocket and flipped through the pages until he found the reference. "Here it is." He accepted a cup of coffee from Hawkins and set it on his tray.

 "According to Mrs. Tiswell, Tia hates your guts—though that’s not how the woman phrased it. If I try the direct approach, your daughter’s liable to toss me out on my ass."

 "Christ, son. How long have we been together? I’ve seen you in action, remember. If you want this company, you’ll find a way to make this happen. Don’t go soft on me now. Be the tough young pirate the press thinks you are. She’s only a girl—ought to be easy for a handsome fellow like you."

 "An interesting challenge," he admitted. The truth was that he thrived on challenges. If he thought about this as a game, one that he intended to win, it might actually be appealing. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time in his life that he’d been dealt a difficult hand. He’d become adept at playing to win, no matter what cards he held. This would be no exception.

 Monk passed him another file. “It’s the marriage contract, son. Get her to sign it, marry her and the shares are yours.”

 Grey stared at his hands a while longer. He could agree, begin the process of courtship while he searched for another solution. He believed the shareholders would rally to his side, which gave him an edge if he started a hostile takeover bid. Yet to do that, he’d have to wait for Monk to die and dump his controlling shares on the market. It would be a long process and might give Isis the time she’d need to start a legal challenge. It would be a complicated mess. He had no doubt that he’d emerge victorious, but at what price to the company he loved?

 And at what price to his honor? He’d always prided himself on being a man of his word, so to agree and then go behind Monk’s back was an unacceptable option.

 Viewed in that light, Monk’s proposal took on a new light. Besides, as Monk had crudely pointed out, if Grey based his opinion on her looks alone, he wouldn’t mind having Tia Elliott in his bed. The idea of marriage and family scared him more than it attracted him, but he’d never let fear stop him.

 Besides, this would be a marriage of convenience. The more he thought about it, Monk’s plan was the most efficient way to accomplish his goal. Practical. Businesslike.

 The fact was, Miss Elliott would benefit as much as he would. She’d become richer than she ever dreamed possible, and he’d yet to meet a woman who didn’t think money was the most important ingredient in a relationship. It was a win-win situation, if he viewed it in that light.

 Resigned, he reached across to retrieve the Elliott file from Monk’s fragile fingers. "I’ll do it."

Chapter Two

The next day, Vancouver:

 Tia arrived at the Rainbow Room five minutes early. She despised being late and didn’t tolerate tardiness in others. As she stepped into the cool, elegant interior, she sighed in satisfaction. The lush plant life woven among the tables created a secluded, calming effect. The pale peach tones of the tablecloths and walls complemented and added to the overall ambiance. Mr. Stone should find this restaurant up to his exacting standards.

 "Good evening, Francois." She spoke softly to the Maître D’. "Has my guest arrived?"

 "Not yet, Miss Elliott. I have your table ready. Will the usual arrangement suit you?"

 Tia did most of her business entertaining at the Rainbow Room. Francois was very cooperative in helping her avoid one of the more awkward moments of being a female in business. Many men were uncomfortable when a woman paid for the meal, but in this business, wining and dining clients at the agency’s expense was vital. While male clients might feel honor-bound to pick up the check at the time of the meeting, they wouldn’t take long to find another agency if they always had to buy.

 Francois had been most understanding. It had been his suggestion that she leave her credit card with him and he would make sure the bill never reached the table. No one needed to feel uncomfortable. At the same time, her clients would feel pampered

 She slipped her card to Francois, knowing he would return it to her discreetly on her way out.

 Her usual table was in a perfect location. Seated facing the entrance, she’d have a clear view of the client the moment he walked in the door. And that would give her precious moments to prepare herself.

 Tia nursed a lime soda while she waited for Mr. Stone. She was on edge. Her fingers played with the straw, swirling the ice cubes into a whirlpool. No matter how often she entertained prospective clients, she’d never been able to banish the jitters. She did it because it was part of the job and she was good at it, but she preferred working on the creative end of things. Her stomach had twice as many knots today. This meeting was the most important one of her career. If she won this account, it would make a big difference to the agency, both financially and in prestige. And if she designed a dynamite campaign for Worldwide, the door to the world of large corporate accounts would finally open.

 Despite that, her first instinct had been to refuse Worldwide as a client, until she told herself that she was being selfish. Then, having made the appointment with Worldwide’s CEO, she’d lost count of the number of times this morning that she’d reached for the phone to cancel.

 It had been years since she’d been this torn about anything. On the one hand, she didn’t want anything from her absentee father, and he owned Worldwide. On the other hand, she’d read about its CEO, Grey Stone, in Time magazine, and he’d intrigued her. That had been six months ago, and she hadn’t been able to get his photograph out of her mind. So she stayed her hand and decided to meet him.

 Besides, she should give herself some credit. In the last two years, she’d been making a big splash in the small pond of advertising. Maybe, just maybe, Mr. Stone was here because of her reputation and not because of the man who’d had a minuscule role in her conception.

 "You can do this," she whispered, but the pep talk didn’t help. Her hands still trembled, and her jaw still threatened to lock.

 Why couldn’t today’s meeting be with someone from Worldwide’s advertising department, someone familiar with that end of the business? Then she wouldn’t be suspicious of her father’s involvement.

 Why couldn’t the meeting today be with someone who wasn’t so disgustingly handsome? Well, she’d better not let her mind wander in that direction or she’d go crazy.

 She kept one eye on the clock and the other on the entrance. At exactly one o’clock, Grey Stone entered. He stopped to speak to the Maître D’ before looking in her direction.

 She’d never met him before, but the picture in Time Magazine had done him an injustice. She’d been smitten when she’d first seen it. Here, in person, he devastated her senses. This man had the same handsomely strong features as in the picture: honey brown hair, blue eyes, sensual mouth sitting over a rock-hard jaw. Yet, a thousand male models with those same features left her cold while his photograph had grabbed hold of her insides and hadn’t in all these months let go.

 The photo had captured only a small part of his raw magnetism. The power of this living, breathing man, from the moment he’d stepped inside the restaurant, had snared her. When he turned toward her and smiled, her hand jerked, sloshing soda over the tablecloth. Great, she thought, as she fought against the panic that threatened to swamp her, what am I supposed to do now? He had to be five foot ten at least. Tia thought he would tower over her five foot four inches. As he strode toward her, she saw that his hair was graying at the temples. Such a small indication that the man wasn’t perfect, but it helped to calm her nerves.

 The Time magazine article had featured him with his hair loose about his shoulders, no doubt to emphasize their slant on him as Canada’s business pirate. Today, it was tied at his nape. Thank heavens for small favors, she thought, hoping that the full force of his personality was as tied back as his hair.

 Then his eyes commanded her attention as he came toward her. They weren’t just blue; they were a vivid sky blue that sent sparks into her core even at this distance. And he hadn’t taken his eyes off her from the moment he turned. Heat flooded into her neck and face. She sighed. Mooning over a prospective client was unprofessional and so out of character.

 Perhaps she’d been too long without a man, though in her rational moments, she’d stomp all over that idea. It was just that if the effect his picture had on her was unreasonable, how could she hope to handle him in person? She’d never felt anything like this before, and it terrified her.

 With effort, she shook herself out of her panic. She could handle this without making a fool of herself. She'd say what needed to be said to win Worldwide as a client. She'd make Jason proud of her—if it killed her.

 Mr. Stone was just a man. But oh, what a man, her guilty thoughts amended. She rose to greet him.

 Grey hadn’t needed the Maître ‘D to show him where Tia was seated. He’d spotted her instantly, his eyes drawn like magnets to her body. She had tried but failed to hide the rampant sexuality under her business black three-piece suit. When she stood, the evidence was plain to see despite the camouflage: the swell of her breast, the smallish waist, the flaring hips. And something more, something undefinable. Only steely determination kept him from stumbling over feet that seemed to have a mind of their own.

 She was far lovelier than even her picture had shown. Her chestnut hair, pulled tautly into a bun at her nape, shimmered under the discreet lighting. He wondered if it would feel as soft as it looked when he ran his fingers through it. And would those lips taste as sweet as they looked?

 Would those clear brown eyes see through him?

 He wasn’t prepared for the impact of seeing her in person. An irresistible urge to peel her layers of clothing off one by one almost swamped him. His mind had no trouble conjuring a picture of her naked skin beneath. A groan nearly escaped, but he turned his wayward thoughts into a grin. Perhaps this marriage wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 "Mr. Stone?" She held out her hand in greeting as he reached the table. She wished he’d stop smiling. Her composure was fragile enough as it was.

 "Grey," he answered, turning her hand over and kissing it. Tia felt something hard and cold pressed into her palm. “And you must be Tia Elliot. Your picture doesn’t do you justice. You are truly lovely."

 She had no idea what he was talking about. Where had he seen her picture?

 Her puzzlement turned to annoyance when she turned her palm over. He’d pressed her credit card into her palm. She raised a quick glance in Francois’s direction and noted the helpless look on his face. Ever the professional, Tia hid her irritation as she turned back to Grey Stone and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

 "I invited you to this meeting," he answered. "So I should pay."

 She bristled, sitting with a heavy sigh. The client was always right, she reminded herself, even when he turned out to be heavy-handed. He wouldn't pull this stunt on another man. Oh no, he did it because she was a woman. She'd had such high expectations but, oh, he was such a disappointment. All that masculine beauty on the outside and an arrogant chauvinist within. Knowing his true personality didn’t stop her physical attraction to him, but it did rule out anything else besides business. An unexpected wave of relief washed over her.

 Still, she wished he wasn’t a vital client. Nothing would give her more pleasure than to tell him what to do with his high-handed chauvinism. Instead, she focused her mind on how pleased Jason would be if she won this account.

 "Please call me Tia. And I apologize if my ruse with Francois offended you. Forgive me." The words tasted like rusty nails, but she fixed a practiced smile on her face. "I’ve had to make my own way for so long, I sometimes forget that there are true gentlemen left in the world."

 Grey detected the stiffened spine, the tightened facial muscles, the false smile. What had he said or done to upset her? Return her credit card? He’d have to watch his step.

 From his research, he knew that she tended to be outspoken—yet at this moment, she was keeping a tight rein on her anger. Maybe she wasn’t as adept at the promotional end of the business as she was at creating memorable advertising copy. He’d heard rumors that she’d lost a few important accounts because she’d torn a strip off the clients. So why, when he sensed she wanted a piece of his hide, was she swallowing her anger?

 Interesting. Did she want the Worldwide account as badly as he wanted to inherit the company? Was this a bargaining chip he hadn’t counted on? Wisely, he kept his smile to himself as he took his seat.

 Their waiter brought a coffee for Grey and took their orders.

 "Let me tell you about Tiswell Advertising Agency, Mr. Stone." She hesitated for a moment and dipped her head in an almost imperceptible nod. "Grey. We’ve concentrated mostly on the west coast until the last two years..."

 "Until you took over."

 Her eyes registered surprise. "That’s right. How did you know?" Not waiting for him to answer, she continued. "It doesn’t matter. In any event, we’ve been expanding outside this area lately. I don’t suppose there is any point in being coy and trying to hide the fact that having Worldwide for an account would be a tremendous coup for us."

 It certainly would be. Overnight, it would catapult the firm from a small regional affair to a national force. It surprised him that she’d admit it, but then, her directness was one more thing about her that he admired.

 "I know that your concern will be with what Tiswell can do for your company. Rightly so. I’ve put together a portfolio..."

 When her demeanor turned all business, her nervousness disappeared. He enjoyed watching her in action. His eyes moved to her fingers as they reached into her portfolio. They were long and slender, and there wasn’t a ring in sight. He knew she didn’t have a man in her life, but seeing the evidence felt surprisingly good.

 "...we can bring creativity and sophistication to the Worldwide image, regardless of the message you want to convey."

 His gaze rose to her lush mouth. It was the most entrancing shade of rose, yet she didn’t seem to be wearing any lipstick. Then there was her intriguing scent—soft, slightly spicy but slightly sweet. It suited her perfectly. He’d have to find out what it was so that he could buy her gallons of it once they were married.

 "Grey...?"

 “Oh, I’m sorry, Tia. Please forgive me. I was wool gathering. Jet lag, no doubt," he lied. She’d slap his face if she knew what he’d really been thinking. "Let me save you the sales pitch. When I decided to consider your firm, I reviewed every ad this agency has produced in the last five years. Four years ago, when you were hired, there was a dramatic improvement in the quality of those ads. So, I already know the creative talent that lurks here, and that talent is you. This meeting is just to decide if you and I can work as a partnership."

 Tia sat back, clearly shaken. "You mean that if you and I are professionally compatible, the Worldwide account is ours?" A flicker of hope lit her eyes.

 “If you and I are compatible, then I expect a long and lasting partnership," he amended. It amused him that she was thinking of business while he was thinking of something far more personal. "So, why don’t you start by telling me about yourself? You’re the creative genius I want to hire. Convince me that you are also someone I won’t mind working with side by side in the oftentimes grueling hours that this business requires."

 Her lovely brown eyes wandered in confusion for a moment. Clearly, she was a behind-the-scenes person. Dealing directly with someone like him must be a new and frightening experience for her.

 "I’m not sure what you want to know," she said, her tone icy. "My work speaks for itself, I think. As you already acknowledged."

 Good. She had her spunk back. It gave an exciting edge to their interplay.

 "Your work is brilliant. You deserved every one of the awards you’ve won over the last several years. But I’m a hands-on manager, Miss Elliott. When I hire an ad agency, I become a part of that agency until the project is complete. If I hire your firm, which really means you, I’ll be sticking to you like glue until my goal is achieved. So to recap, your work sold me on your skill as an ad exec. Now I want you to sell me on your personality as a working partner."

 Tia leaned forward and rested one elbow on the table. It was a breach of etiquette that she barely noticed as she fought to keep suspicion at bay. "I’ve never worked that way with anyone, Mr. Stone. Coming up with the right advertising campaign is an intensely creative process. It requires deep concentration, long hours of thought, of tossing one idea after another into the silent air around me. Many of the ideas that are voiced in this process are silly, but they can lead to something truly brilliant."

 She hesitated. "Having someone stuck to me like glue would cramp that brainstorming process. Nothing will bring it grinding to a halt faster than having someone breathing down my neck, judging every idea and pushing for results."

 "You’ll have your alone time. I promise you that. But I still want to know about you as a person."

 Did the man think she was stupid? That she’d never dealt with clients before? He wasn’t even attempting to be subtle, and she found she was insulted. Still, accusing him outright would be a mistake. But she would shift the focus onto him.

 She leaned her forehead onto her hand and rubbed. "Is there a hidden agenda here, Mr. Stone? I find it hard to believe that the CEO of Worldwide has the time to babysit an advertising campaign."

 She straightened, made eye contact. "The article in Time magazine six months ago implied that you worked grueling hours jetting around the world to your company’s various holdings. During that time, your company ran numerous ad campaigns. Did the article lie, and you really spent all your time working on advertising? Or has something changed?"

 He sat back but kept his eyes on hers. He wasn’t focused though she could almost see thoughts bouncing around inside his skull as he decided what to tell her. She decided not to give him the chance to lie. "If this has anything to do with my father, Mr. Stone..."

 His eyes closed briefly, almost imperceptibly, but when they reopened, they shone with resignation and determination.

 "...you’re wasting your time. If he wants to know what my life is like, or if he wants some part of it, if he suddenly decided he wants to be close, he should have stayed in touch. I think you, with your background, would find my father’s abandonment of his family hard to take."

 Her voice rose a notch and the pace quickened. She was building a good head of steam, but she didn’t care. "Or because you were abandoned as a baby and spent all your time in foster care, you think that’s the way parents are supposed to act."

 "No." He leaned over the table. She felt like he was inches from her nose even though a few feet separated them. "That’s not what I think. And I’m not here to find out about your life, not really. The truth is that I already know all the important details—they’re right here in a dossier in my briefcase." He backed off and sighed. "But this meeting isn’t about your father. It’s about us."

 "I’m not an idiot, Mr. Stone. There is no us, and the only connection is my father. So,..."

 "I don’t suppose you’d start calling me Grey again. I like hearing it on your lips."

 "...I’m sure you understand my position," she continued, ignoring him. "You know, my mother took great pains to keep me from finding out about him, but I’m resourceful. Against her wishes, I tried to contact him years ago, and he wasn’t interested then. It’s too late now for him to amend years of neglect."

 "If you know your mother tried to keep you from him, you must know she tried to keep him from you."

 "Give me a break. He’s a rich and powerful man, and my mother, after leaving him, was neither. If he’d wanted to stay in touch with me, he would have. Besides, like you, he opened his big mouth to the media. I already know..." she said, leaning forward and jabbing the table with her finger, "...heck, the whole world knows his feelings about sons and daughters. He didn’t want me because I wasn’t male. Well, I don’t want him because he’s a jerk."

 He understood her anger. He’d often experienced the same. The difference was, he’d never found out who his real parents were or why they had abandoned him on the steps of a women’s shelter.

 "He’s dying."

 She went rigid. Then she laughed contemptuously. "My mother died four years ago when I’d only been working for six months. She needed a triple bypass, but the waiting list was too long. She couldn’t hold on long enough. She might still be alive if we’d had the money to send her to the States for the procedure. Monk should have taken care of that. He didn’t. So don’t expect me to feel sorry for him now that he’s dying."

 “Well, he didn’t know about your mother, Tia. You can’t blame him for what happened to her."

 "Yes, I can. If he had cared enough about me to stay in touch, he would have known. I would have made sure of it."

 "Why didn't you do that anyway?"

 She reached across the table and poked his chest with her manicured fingernail. "Don’t think I didn’t try. Once I found out where he was, I left numerous messages at his home. Not one of them was returned. I could have forgiven him a lot if he had just been there for us then. He wasn’t. End of story."

 Grey removed the napkin from his lap and placed it on the table. "He might not have known. Isis, his current wife, might have intercepted your calls."

 "Look, Mr. Stone, I’m sorry you wasted your time here." She signaled Francois back to their table. "You can make as many excuses for Monk as you like. It doesn’t matter to me."

 She handed Francois her credit card. One look told Grey it would be unwise to protest. "Bring Mr. Stone his order, but cancel mine." She smiled but waited till Francois departed, then returned her gaze to his, her expression once again carefully controlled. "Monk doesn’t matter to me. Nothing that happens to him, nothing he cares about or wants matters to me. If he has some misguided idea of reconciling with me before he dies, he can forget it." She gathered her purse and portfolio and rose from her chair.

 "That isn’t what he wants. He wants you to marry me."

 "What!?!" She had taken only one step, which brought her level with him.

 He looked into her shocked eyes. It was a dangerous approach to take, but what the hell—he’d been about to lose her anyway. "He wants you to marry me. That way, he can leave Worldwide to you, and I’ll have control—as your husband."

 She laughed loudly. Curious eyes from other tables turned their way.

 Grey glared at the surrounding diners until they all looked away, embarrassed. "I’m serious."

 She laughed harder till tears rolled down her cheeks. Lust took hold and turned his insides out. She was laughing at him, most likely torpedoing any chance he had of inheriting Worldwide, and all he thought about was laying her across this table and sinking into her warm, sweetly scented body. He groaned and shifted uncomfortably.

 "Thank you," she said once her laughter was under control. A stray giggle escaped. "I was feeling pretty intense, but that sure lightened things up. Whew!" She set her briefcase down and extended her hand. "You’re not such a bad guy after all, considering you’re the arrogant jerk who works for my father. I’m sorry we can’t do business together. Perhaps another time, when you want my firm because of the work we do—not because of who my father is."

 He took her small, warm hand in his and held on. It fit so well. The skin, as he caressed it, was smooth and delicate against the coarseness of his own. Touching her hand touched something inside that he’d never experienced before. But she didn’t make it easy. She kept trying to jerk her hand away.

 He ignored the storm gathering in her eyes and held on. "It wasn’t a joke. I was perfectly serious," he said as he bent to kiss her hand. "It wouldn’t be so bad being married to me, you know." While his lips grazed her skin, his eyes rose to meet hers, his gaze intense. "Something tells me we’d be great in bed together. Besides, you’d be richer than you dreamed possible."

 She snatched her hand out of his grasp and smacked it sharply across his face. "Sex is overrated, Mr. Stone. I’ve done nicely without it for a long time. And money—well, I had need of it a few years ago but not anymore. I earn my own living, and I like it that way. If you are serious, change your mind because you’re wasting your time. Better to spend it thinking of some other way to get your precious company because you won’t get it through me."

 Despite how furiously she denied it, he’d sensed her body respond to his touch. It was there in the way her pulse beat erratically in the hollow of her throat, in the way her eyelids had fluttered when his lips touched her skin. Overrated? Sex would be anything but that between them.

 He watched her walk away, past the gauntlet of too-curious diners. She obviously hadn’t been with the right man before, but he'd change her mind. It was too bad that marriage had to enter the picture. He’d like to bed her just for the sheer pleasure of it.

 He signaled the waiter to cancel his order. He had work to do. This meeting hadn’t gone as planned, but it wasn’t a total waste. He'd found out what he was up against. She’d be a challenge, that was clear. It wasn’t a problem, though. He’d expected it. He was up for it.

 Everybody wanted something. He just had to find out what she wanted. At the moment, what he wanted was walking calmly out the door.

*****

I hope you enjoyed these two chapters.  If you'd like to continue the journey with Grey and Tia, follow the links to Amazon on Books tab.