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“There’s another reason we should spend some time getting to know each other better, Deidre.”
She opened her eyes. He couldn’t see their hue in the dim light emanating from the dashboard, but he knew they were an unusual blue-gray color. He could clearly see the line of her jaw and the delicate shell shape of her ear.
Was she made so perfectly everywhere?
“I’m afraid to ask,” she murmured.
“Lincoln wrote me a letter before he died. He specifically asked me to get to know you better.”
“Why?” she demanded. She leaned toward him, her fatigue seemingly disappearing at the mention of the man she believed to be her father. Her curiosity bordered on hunger. It struck him as understandable, but sad, that she was so desperate for information about Linc. Again, he inhaled her clean, floral feminine scent. His muscles clenched tight in restraint.
“Linc knew I had my doubts about your claim to be his child. Maybe he thought us spending time together would put those doubts to rest. He likely also knew that no one else could teach you about your inheritance as well as I could.”
“Can I read the letter?”
“No.”
She started at his abruptness.
He shut his eyes briefly when he saw her hurt, incredulous expression. Lincoln’s letter had been heartbreakingly honest, almost childlike in its plea. Nick had been moved deeply by that letter, but at the same time, it’d made him question whether or not Lincoln was of sound mind when he’d changed his will. He couldn’t tell Deidre that, though. She’d just accuse him of causing his prejudice against her to influence his opinion about Lincoln’s motivations and state of mind.
“Not now you can’t, Deidre,” he said quietly. “I have my reasons for saying that. Don’t take offense. Please.”
But she had taken offense, he realized. Her backbone went ramrod straight.
“May I ask why it is that you believe you have the right to constantly call my morals and character into question, why you have the right to investigate me like a common criminal, when I don’t even have the right to ask a simple thing of you?”
“I didn’t mean you can’t ask me things,” he grated out.
“It sounded that way to me,” she said, picking up her evening bag from her lap and retrieving the centerpiece from the floorboard. She reached for the car door and then suddenly went still, her hand outstretched. She turned, her brow crinkled in consternation. Her mouth fell open as if something had just dawned on her.
“Wait a second...” she muttered.
“What?”
“The other half of Lincoln’s estate—he left it to you, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Nick admitted.
The weighty silence was shattered by Deidre’s desperate bark of laughter.
“Do you mean to tell me—”
“That’s right,” he said more calmly than he felt. “My hands are tied without you. There’s a major acquisition deal I’ve been brokering now
for months, for instance, and even though the time is ripe for DuBois Enterprises to buy, I’m powerless to act without your consent. The way things stand legally right now, I can’t make a major decision on behalf of DuBois Enterprises without your agreement. So for the time being, we’re partners. Whether we like it or not.”
Chapter Two
The next morning Deidre called Colleen, in much need of some sisterly commiseration and support. They met up at Jake’s Place, a popular Harbor Town hangout, for brunch. Colleen’s fork halted in midair when Deidre told her all the bizarre, gory details from her meeting with Nick the previous night.
“Lincoln left you half of his estate and fifty percent controlling interest in his company?” Colleen asked, clearly flabbergasted.
Deidre nodded and sipped her coffee.
“But he was one of the wealthiest men in the country. That means...you’re bloody rich, Deidre.”
Deidre chuckled at her sister’s bald statement. “Not if Nick Malone has his say in the matter. He told me he plans to contest the will if he decides I coerced Lincoln in any way.”
