Paradise (Second Opportunities 1)

"Then why are you worried about it?"

"Because," she said with a sigh, "we've expanded so quickly that our debt level is very high. We didn't have much choice—Bancroft's either had to go forward and get into the mainstream of competition or face becoming obsolete. The problem is, we don't have much money on hand to cover us now if something should happen to cause several of our stores to suddenly start losing money."

"Couldn't you borrow it if that happens?"

"Not too easily. We're borrowed up to the teeth right now for all our expansion costs. I'm worried about more than just that though." When he continued to regard her in waiting silence, she admitted, "There's a record number of shares of our stock being traded on the stock market every day. I'd noticed it in the newspapers for the past couple of months, but I assumed investors were reading about us and realizing we're a good long-term investment for their money, and we are. But," she said, drawing a steadying breath before she could make herself say the words, "Sam Green, our attorney, thinks all those shares may be going because someone is getting ready to try to take us over. Sam has contacts on Wall Street, and evidently there are whispers about a takeover attempt on us. Parker caught wind of a similar rumor in October, but we ignored it. It may be true after all. It'll be weeks before we know the names of those who've bought our stock lately. Even when we do, it may not tell us anything significant. If a company wants to keep their intention of taking us over a secret, they won't be buying our stock in their own names. They'll have other people buy it for them as well. They may even be illegally parking the stock in accounts with fake names." She caught herself and gave him a wry look. "You already know all about how it's done, don't you?"

He quirked an amused brow at her. "No comment."

"One company you started to take over a few months ago paid you fifty million just to go away and leave them alone. We couldn't do that, and we don't have the kind of money right now that it would take to try to fight a takeover. God," she finished miserably, "if Bancroft's were to become nothing but a division of some big corporate conglomerate, I couldn't bear it."

"There are steps you can take to protect yourself in advance."

"I know, and the board of directors has been discussing them for two years, but they haven't done anything really effective yet." Restlessly, she got up and poked at the fire.

Behind her, Matt said, "Is that the extent of your worries or is there more?"

"More?" she said on a choked laugh, straightening. "There's more, but what it all boils down to, I guess, is that things that never happened before are happening now, and it's giving me a generalized feeling of" doom. There's the fear of being a takeover target, and bomb scares, and now Parker can't lend us the money for Houston, so we'll have to deal with a new lender."

"Why can't he?"

"Because Reynolds Mercantile is looking for money right now, not lending big sums of it to overborrowed customers like us. I wouldn't be surprised if poor Parker isn't worried about Bancroft's being able to keep making payments on the loans we already have with him."

"He's a big boy," Matt said flatly, shoving papers back into his briefcase, "he can take the heat. If he lent you more money than he should have, it's his own fault, and he'll figure out a way to cut his losses." Every time she mentioned Reynolds, jealousy ate at him like acid, and this was no exception; his mood took a sudden turn for the worse. "You need to get a good night's sleep," he told her, and Meredith simultaneously realized that there was an edge to his voice and that he was getting ready to leave. Surprised by his rather abrupt departure, she walked him to the door, berating herself for dumping all her concerns on him.

He turned in the doorway. "What time are we assembling here for your birthday tomorrow?"

"Seven-thirty?" she suggested.

"Fine."

He stepped into the hall and Meredith moved to the open doorway. "About tomorrow night," she said, "since it's my birthday, I'd like to ask a favor of you."

"What's that?" he asked, putting down his briefcase and shrugging into his coat.

"That you and Parker talk to each other—no stony silences," she warned, "like the way you two acted before the press conference. Agreed?"

That was one mention too many of her precious Parker. Matt nodded, started to say something, hesitated, and then took a step forward and said it. "Speaking of Reynolds," he asked with deceptive calm, "are you still sleeping with him?"

Her mouth dropped open, and she demanded, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I assume you were sleeping with him, since you were engaged to him, and I'm asking you if you still are."

"Who the hell do you think you are!"

"Your husband."

For some reason the solemn finality of the statement made her heart slam into her ribs. Her hand tightened on the doorknob in a reflexive grab for support. He saw her reaction and added with a slight smile, "It has a nice sound, once you get used to it."

"No, it doesn't," she replied mutinously. But it did—a little.

His smile vanished. "Then let me introduce you to a word that has an even worse sound. If you are still sleeping with Reynolds, that word is adultery."

Meredith gave the door a shove that would have sent it crashing into its frame if he hadn't stopped it with his foot and simultaneously hauled her into the hall with his hands on her shoulders. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was both rough and tender, his arms drawing her tightly against him. And then he gentled the kiss, brushing his parted lips on hers in a light, exquisite touch that was even harder to resist than the other one. He trailed his lips to her ear and nipped the lobe, his whisper sending shivers down her spine. "I know you want to kiss me back, I can feel it. Why not indulge the impulse," he invited Her huskily. "I'm more than willing and completely available ..."

To her horror, his teasing statements doused her anger and gave her simultaneous impulses to giggle and to do exactly what he suggested.

"If I die in an accident on the way home tonight," he cajoled softly, his mouth sliding over her cheek toward her lips again, "think how guilty you'll feel if you don't."

Pushed another step toward laughter, Meredith opened her mouth to say something duly flippant or, better yet, sarcastic, and the instant she did, his mouth captured hers. His hand clamped the back of her head, holding her mouth to his while his other arm angled down across her back, holding her hips tightly to his. And Meredith was lost. Locked to him from toe to head, possessed by his hands and mouth and tongue, she went down to ignominious defeat. Against his chest, her fists flattened, her hands sliding up his shirt inside his coat, her fingers splaying wide of their own accord, spreading against the muscled warmth of his chest. His tongue stroked intimately against hers, his mouth inexorably forcing hers to open wider, and suddenly Meredith was welcoming the invasion of his tongue, helplessly kissing him back with all the desperation and confusion rioting inside her. As soon as she did, his arm tightened, his mouth starting to move with fierce, devouring hunger over hers, and Meredith felt his own desire beginning to pour through her veins.