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A man in a well-cut suit came out of a doorway a few yards down. “Having any problems, Phil?”
“No—I’ll be there in just a moment,” Phil called out. He rolled his shoulders as if relieving tension, then lowered his voice. “Look, the safety of our taxpayers is paramount. If your projects aren’t up to code—”
“You gave verbal approval for the Sloan project and for the Fosters’ house. You did your inspection and said you found nothing wrong.”
A muscle jerked along Phil’s jaw. “I don’t remember saying that at all.”
“Then maybe we need to take this to someone higher up.”
“Like the county attorney? Be my guest.” His bland smile gave proof that there would be little help from that quarter.
“Just tell me what I need to do,” Matt said through clenched teeth.
“Rewrite your plans, resubmit with the proper fees. I’ll get to it as soon as I can.”
Which might be next month or the month after that, resulting in angered customers and loss of confidence in the quality of work done by the company.
Fighting the delays and subtle interpretations of the building codes would be difficult and time-consuming.
“Is this Robert Maxwell’s doing?”
A flicker of uneasiness flashed in Phil’s eyes, confirming Matt’s suspicions. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’ve stepped over the line if you’re following Maxwell’s orders,” Matt snarled. “I’m not going to let this rest.”
A lead weight settled in his stomach as he watched Phil turn and head into the office down the hall.
Matt had gradually managed to forget the gulf between Jolie and himself—the money, the status, the vast difference in their education and careers.
Slowly falling in love with her had made anything in the world seem possible, but now her father was proving just how wrong Matt had been.
With a heavy sigh, Matt started for the front entrance of the building. Footsteps hurried down the hallway behind him. He turned and recognized the guy who’d tried to hit on Jolie at the restaurant.
“The secretary upstairs called to tell me that you were here, so I came right over. Can I talk with you a moment—outside?”
“I think here would be just fine with me,” Matt growled. “Who are you?”
“One of the attorneys representing the Maxwells.”
“So?”
“I’m sure you can appreciate that the Maxwells must protect their interests,” he murmured, too low for any passersby to hear. “Jolie Maxwell has a bright professional future, but also stands to inherit a handsome amount upon her father’s death.”
Matt fought to keep his anger in check. “That’s not my business.”
“You need to understand that if you were to ever marry her, neither of you would ever receive a nickel. A far smaller amount would be simply put in trust for your children.”
“This is crazy. Where are we—twelfth-century Scotland?”
“When a man sees such financial opportunity, he can work hard to make it happen. Marriages have been built on far less, but they are rarely happy.” He raked Matt with a dismissive glance. “Mr. Maxwell simply wants to make sure his daughter doesn’t make a mistake. Andyoumight want to consider whether or not a woman with Jolie’s professional and family background would ever be content with acarpenter.”
He turned sharply on his heel and walked away.
Matt stared after him, stunned. Then walked slowly out into the sunshine, slid behind the wheel of his pickup and leaned his head against the headrest. He closed his eyes.
Maxwell’s money meant nothing to him—he didn’t want it. But how could he let Jolie throw away her inheritance? Even if she dismissed the concern now, how would she feel in the future? Would she come to resent him for the loss of that security?
Beyond that, Phil’s subtle interference with permits and inspection delays threatened people Matt couldn’t place in financial risk—his children, his brother, his brother’s family.
