FOUR SETS OF CARVED wooden double doors were open and ready to receive. Security guards stood attentively, insuring that only the invited entered. The accumulation of bodies packed the auditorium on the first floor of Madison & Madison Enterprises. Well-dressed bodies, to be sure. Busy bodies, too. Those who knew each other called out greetings or merely waved or discreetly nodded, depending on personality and worth. As people wiggled about impatiently in their seats, no small amount of whispering and covert staring raised the stakes as company officers and the board of directors came down off the dais to work the crowd, glad-handing, smiling, and dodging direct questions from the assembled stockholders.
The mood barometer wobbled somewhere between irritated crowd and budding mob. Why? Because the meeting was supposed to start in about twenty minutes and everyone had already heard the news about the Will, as it was being called in the business press, and how the company’s leadership had changed hands, even if only temporarily. Confidence in the company was shaken. Huge sums of money were involved. And people were jittery.
They weren’t the only ones. Elsewhere, behind closed doors in a private anteroom, Hank watched his chairwoman of the board hurry through the exit and head for the ladies’ room for about the tenth time. What had he been thinking, to rattle Maddie as he had just before the meeting? “I could sleep here tonight”? Where the hell had that come from? But he knew. It came from being close to her. Wanting her had blindsided him. Just come out of the blue. As it did every time he was around her. He couldn’t blame her for quickly exiting his bedroom upstairs or for preferring the company of strangers here downstairs.
Retreating to the white-clothed tables at the back of the room where coffee and water and tea were offered, Hank opened a bottle of water and wondered if he was a lost cause where Maddie Copeland was concerned. As if his water were a beer, Hank took a swig of it and gave vent to his thoughts. Okay, so Maddie turned him on. He didn’t know why. She just did. Who could explain one person’s attraction for a specific other? He certainly couldn’t. Nor could he remember in his life ever before giving the concept this much thought.
So the hell of it was, he had no idea why Maddie seemed unique to him and held a singular attraction for him. Certainly there was a lot there to like. She was a blue-eyed, fair-skinned blonde of delicate features and slender grace. That always attracted him initially. But any woman, for him, soon paled if it turned out there was no intelligence and no wit to go along with the looks. In Maddie’s case, there certainly was. And besides all that, she was a nice woman. Clean-cut all-American girl. The girl next door. Prom queen. The whole package.
Okay, so she wasn’t hard to like. And she wasn’t hard on the eyes. Yada-yada. Still, he couldn’t account for why she, apparently above all other women, did it for him. Hank had known a thousand women who had going for them the things Maddie had going for her. But none of them had ever turned his head so fast that he got a crick in his neck. What was that all about? Hank cleared his mind, hoping for a glimmer of something. He stared at the framed painting hanging on the wall in front of him, only vaguely aware that it was a still life. Suddenly, in the act of raising the water to his lips, the answer hit him like a thump in the forehead. He was attracted to Maddie because she knew who he was and was totally unimpressed. Not that he was impressed with himself. But the tabloids certainly were. The entertainment shows were. The business world was. The general public was. But she wasn’t.
Hank chuckled. Good for her. Hell, good for me. His next realization was the picture he had to make standing there in a corner of the room, with his back to it, drinking water, and laughing. If anybody came in, they’d think him demented. Or distracted. And they’d be right on both counts, Hank suspected. Maddie did this to him. It was the most amazing thing. Here finally was a woman who apparently wanted nothing to do with his world of wealth. She could simply walk away from it. She couldn’t care less about his or anybody else’s net worth. She knew who she was and was content to allow everyone else to be who they were, too. Live and let live.
Maybe that was why James Senior had come to like and respect her so quickly. She had simply liked him for who he was. That was rare in Hank’s circle. And he felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted what his grandfather had possessed—a true friend. He wanted Maddie, among other things, to like him. How odd that was. And how simple, yet hard. Because he wasn’t really certain that she did like him. He meant as a friend. Someone she could hang out with and just enjoy being around. Someone with whom she could share her thoughts and her hopes and her fears and her dreams.
Frowning, Hank rubbed at his clean-shaven jaw. For crying out loud, I want Maddie to like me. Even to his ears it sounded so elementary-schoolyard desperate. Please like me. Be my friend. But there it was. He’d never cared before if anyone liked him or not. He knew his place and his role in the public world. You were either “in” or “out” based on the state of your fortune and whether or not you were in favor with the power brokers. Or had the right lover. Or even the wrong one. It was an artificial world. He knew that. And he’d never really liked it, but he had moved easily in it. Not anymore. Right now what he wanted was “real.” Whatever that meant. All he knew was Maddie represented that—the real world. She lived in it and maybe could show him how.
“Damn,” Hank muttered. “Pull your head out, Hank. Think. You’re giving Maddie way too much power here, buddy.”
Now he was talking out loud to himself—and his life was in turmoil, his company was threatened, his fortune was shaky, his grandfather had lost his mind, and Maddie was at the center of it. Okay, this was better. This was thinking he understood. Maddie. He no longer thought her a gold digger, of course, but he reminded himself that he also didn’t quite know the full extent of her involvement with James Senior in this debacle of a will. Dammit, Grandpa. Hank felt his heart throb fondly and with hurt. Do you have any idea how much I love you and miss you and would like to kick your ass?
“Hank, honey—”
“Jesus!” Hank jerked around to see his mother standing behind him.
“Not even close, sweetheart.” Lillian Elaine Smythe Madison of Beverly Hills, California, inhaled deeply of her Sobranie cocktail cigarette. Her middle-aged, very pretty Irish face was puckered with worry. “What are you doing standing back here and talking to yourself? You’re starting to worry me.”
She eyed him critically, the tiger-mother in her quickly assessing his state of being. She turned her head slightly to exhale the smoke … and waited.
Hank studiously ignored a flush of embarrassment that heated up his cheeks. “You’d do better to worry about our chairwoman of the board.”
Lillian Madison made a dramatic gesture. “Oh, that one. I do not believe any of this, Hank. You’re an employee? You’re her employee? Is that right? You work here for her?”
“Only temporarily. And you’re not supposed to smoke in here, Mother. There are signs posted.”
“The signs don’t mean me. And we’re alone, so I’m not bothering anyone. Now talk to me. You’re an employee in your own company?”
Hank ignored her question, one she’d asked and he’d already answered about five times—in front of Maddie. Which explained why Maddie had gotten sick and left the room this last time. Instead, he frowned at the gold filter tip of his mother’s European cigarette and the paper that wrapped the strong tobacco. Its blue color matched her outfit. “That’s just what you need, Mother. A cigarette brand that color-coordinates with your wardrobe. Those damned things are going to kill you.”
Hank watched his mother exhale a cloud of smoke over her shoulder and then eye the cigarette she held between two perfectly manicured long, slender fingers. “You’ve been saying that since you were a little boy.”
“And I’ll be right one day.”
“No you won’t. Smoking won’t kill me before your grandfather’s will does. Wouldn’t you know that James Senior would go and do something this cockamamie and leave such a mess? What about your stock?”
She changed subjects as she did outfits. “I still have my stocks. And I’ll have everything else back in six weeks.”
“Good. Everyone is talking about it, you know. It’s in all the papers now, that insane and embarrassing will.”
“I know.” Hank drank from his bottle of water. “I can’t step outside without being followed and photographed.”
Lillian shook her head, her expression sympathetic and exasperated. “You poor thing. And your grandfather was a crazy old coot. I loved him, but I always knew that about him. Honey, he was just impossible to be around. I couldn’t take it anymore. Which is why I took you to the West Coast when you were a little boy.”
Hank smiled sympathetically. He knew this story and how she felt guilty for not being here for James Senior at the end. None of them had been. Except for Maddie. “Grandfather could be difficult. But you did your best, Mother.”
She nodded her agreement. “Well, I think as long as I’m here I’ll go to this Hanscomb Harbor myself and just see what the big attraction is there.”
Sheer gut-wrenching dread had Hank thinking a particularly pithy expletive. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mother. I don’t see any need for you to go to Hanscomb Harbor. You’d hate it.” She meant Maddie and what was going on with her. And what James Senior’s big attraction to her had been. “Maddie’s not a gold digger, Mother. And you don’t need to go there.”
Hank heard himself defending Maddie. And realized he felt protective of her. In truth, his hair all but stood on end to think of Lady Lillian, as he called her, laying siege to Hanscomb Harbor and to Maddie. He wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy. And Maddie certainly wasn’t their enemy.
Careful to keep her cigarette away from Hank, his mother put a hand on his arm. “We don’t know she isn’t a gold digger, sweetie. And I’m not going to spy on the girl, for heaven’s sake. I’m going because I simply want to. But about that girl? From watching you with her, I don’t think you’re thinking clearly where she’s concerned.”
That stung. “What does that mean, I’m not thinking clearly?”
“Exactly what I said. You’re not. Not where she’s concerned. And I can see why. I’m not blind. But even that’s not why I’m going to that little fishing village. Everyone is saying it will be the next place to go. Everyone is talking about it, honey. Like it’s Newport, Rhode Island, or something.” She shrugged. “I just want to see for myself.”
No she didn’t. Hank knew her that well. But Hanscomb Harbor overrun with the jet set? He could see it now. An unmitigated disaster. Nothing he could do about that, so he turned his mind to something more to the point today. Gossip. “What’s all the other talk, Mother? The financial circles. What are they saying? Do they think Madison and Madison is down and out?”
Lillian Madison shook her head. “No. And that’s because they have faith in you, honey.” Her expression puckered. “But they don’t in me. My God, you ought to hear the talk about me, what my so-called friends are saying.”
Relieved over the vote of confidence in him and his company, Hank relaxed and grinned at his mother. She was such a contradiction. At once deep and shallow. Caring and casual. Concerned and blasé. “If they’re talking about you, Mother, it’s because you insist on giving them a lot of ammo. But if you ask me, you need new friends. Or your old friends should get jobs.”
Lillian hooted at that. “Honey, they have jobs—keeping their husbands happy and producing their children to tie their men more closely to them. And staying slim and attractive. Those are full-time jobs. And this will thing. God. They’ve jumped on that like starlets on casting couches.”
Now that they had moved on to country club gossip, Hank listened with one ear to his mother as he kept an eye on the room’s closed door. Maddie wasn’t back yet, and the clock kept ticking toward time to start the meeting. “So, tell me, Mother, how did Grandpa’s will affect you? He didn’t change anything in your regard.”
Lillian rolled her eyes as if she were dealing with a particularly dim-witted child. “I know that, honey, God love the old loon. But it did involve you. And I’m your mother.”
“How well I know that. But I don’t know why you think you have to explain anything to them.”
“You really don’t?” She was quite indignant. “I just cannot let these bizarre stories going around about how we don’t have any money rest unchallenged. They’re saying James Senior left everything to a young blonde. Which he did. Now whether she’s innocent or not, honey, this is the stuff of tabloid headlines. And I cannot have these false stories going around about me. The true ones are bad enough.”
Hank bit back his grin. “Of course. I forgot.”
Lady Lillian continued in her injured tone. “I swear those women are so shallow. And have such short memories. I mean, did I say anything when that old fart Clovis Martin got caught with his pants down in the coatroom and the woman on her knees worshipping him was not his wife? No, I did not. And Jackie Muncie—how about her? The woman has a drug habit. Why, she’s on the preferred-customer list of all the pharmacies in Los Angeles. But have I ratted her out? No, I have not. And do I say anything when someone’s newly wed daughter delivers a four-months-premature baby that weighs in at eight pounds? No, sir. But when it comes to my personal misfortune, does anyone cut me any slack? I can tell you they do not.”
With sudden bemusement, Hank stared at his slender five-foot-four-inch mother as she took a drag on her color-coordinated Sobranie. Her red hair was perfectly coiffed. Her favorite day spa had her puffed and cremed and massaged to within an inch of her life. And her blue two-piece suit was without fault in taste, color, and fit. “Your personal misfortune? Again, nothing’s changed for you.”
“Then why is everyone up and down Rodeo Drive and all over Beverly Hills whispering around me and sending me flowers and offering condolences?”
“Because your beloved father-in-law died. Remember?”
“Oh. Of course. Poor James. Now tell me again why I can’t go pay my respects at the cemetery in Hanscomb Harbor?”
“Because he wasn’t buried, Mother. He was cremated.”
She grimaced at that and waved away the smoke she exhaled. “There was something about a crab. What was that?”
“A lobster. His ashes are in a big ceramic lobster clock.” Hank started laughing. It was suddenly funny—and wonderful.
“It’s not funny, Hank.” Lillian casually tapped her cigarette’s precariously long ash into a water glass and carried on. “And they thought Howard Hughes was eccentric. Or Elvis. Ha. Those men were icons of rationality compared to James Senior. Your father certainly wasn’t like that. Thank God. He was the practical one, God rest his soul. You take after him.”
Hank’s secret thought, as he gazed affectionately at his mother’s face, was his own Thank God.
“But I swear,” she was saying, “I don’t even pretend to understand your grandfather. A ceramic lobster clock? Where is it? I’d like to see that.”
“I don’t know where it is,” he lied. He had to convince her to go home. The last thing he needed during his six weeks in Hanscomb Harbor was his mother being there at the same time. Or even ever. The woman was a diva. Tremendously high maintenance … like a spoiled poodle. He loved her with all his heart, but she drove him and everyone around her crazy. She didn’t know that about herself. She certainly wasn’t vicious. Just rich and pampered—and every bit as loony as the rest of the Madisons. Except for Hank. He wasn’t loony … he didn’t think.
Hank turned to put the empty water bottle down and checked his watch. Ten minutes to go.
“Hank, are you listening to me?”
He gave his mother his attention. “Yes. But I need to go see about Maddie.”
Lillian’s light-brown eyes flashed with some emotion. “Maddie. That’s a pretty name. And she’s a pretty girl, isn’t she?”
“Woman. She’s a pretty woman. And yes she is.”
“Woman? How old is she? Twelve?”
“I don’t know. But I’m sure she’s not twelve.”
Lillian took another ladylike puff of her cigarette and stared past Hank. “This is just great. A twelve-pound, twenty-year-old blonde in charge of our lives and our fortune. All our hard-earned money. Just gone.”
Hank stared at his mother. She was all about shopping, tennis, doing lunch at the country club, playing cards, gossiping, parties. She had no idea what the real world was like. But then he realized that she did. She was a Vietnam war widow. And she’d been a single mother and had never remarried. Hank’s heart went out to her. Could he love her more? He shook his head, thinking he may as well get mad at a puppy. “It’s not as bad as all that, Mother. And what hard-earned money? James Senior earned it. Not us. And he’s supported me and you all our lives since—”
“Since your father was killed in Vietnam when you were a baby. I know, honey. I was there.” She gave Hank an affectionate pat on his cheek. “Don’t think for a moment that I didn’t love James senior. I did. But I love you more. And I want you to be happy.” She grimaced and tugged at her skirt. “My pantyhose are killing me.” She then focused on her son. “Well? Go get that girl and let’s get this damned meeting over with. I need to see how much money I’ll have left. I just hope I don’t have to marry one of those horny old rich men who’re always chasing after me. They just won’t leave me alone.”
With that, she stubbed her cigarette out on a buffet plate and crossed her arms, clearly waiting for her orders to be carried out. She arched her eyebrows expectantly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Hank said, laughing, his hands raised in surrender. “I’ll go get Maddie.”
But he hadn’t moved a step before suddenly his chin and jaw were in his mother’s clutches and she was turning him to face her. “Look at me.” She scanned his features and dramatically dropped her hand to her side. “James Henry Madison the Third, you are under her spell. I can see it in your face. You haven’t taken your eyes off that door since she stepped through it.”
“I most certainly am not under her spell,” Hank protested. “And the reason I’m watching that door is it’s time to start the meeting. So go out there and entertain the troops as only you can.” Hank gave his mother an encouraging and gentle push in the direction of the door that opened onto the auditorium.
Lillian teetered atop her high heels and finally got herself stopped. She turned to face him. “Where are you going?”
Hank sobered, readied for battle. “I have a sudden and uncontrollable urge to go to the ladies’ room, Mother.”
* * *
The door to the ladies’ room swung open. And Hank Madison swooped in. Standing at the marble-topped vanity that featured four sinks, and clutching her damp white hand towel to her chest, Maddie gasped. So did the black-headed, tall, angular woman dressed in black—right down to her eyeglasses—standing next to her and closer to the male interloper.
“Mr. Madison!”
“Hank!”
The tall, twice-startled woman pivoted to face Maddie, who stared just as surprised back at her. Wordlessly, they both turned toward the amply identified Mr. Hank Madison. “What are you doing in here?”
Maddie and the other woman had spoken in unison, as if they’d rehearsed it that way. Again they exchanged glances with each other.
“Forgive me, Miz Smith,” Hank said, heavy on the “Miz-z-z,” and drawing their attention back to him. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
Maddie made a scoffing sound. “Oh, thanks. You knew I was in here.”
Hank eyed her, said nothing to her, and spoke instead to Maddie’s sink mate, who could have passed for little Wednesday Addams, now going by Miz Smith. “Would you excuse us a moment, please, Miz Smith? I need to speak privately to our new chairwoman of the board.”
The woman hissed. In anyone else, Maddie knew, she would have recognized the sound as a sudden intake of breath. But in this woman, it was a hiss. Miz Smith zipped around once again to face Maddie, who had all she could do not to cringe. The woman’s flat-black snakelike gaze whipped over Maddie and took her apart. Maddie swallowed and couldn’t seem to blink as she stared up at the frightening lady.
“You’re Miz-z Copeland?” You’re the Anti-Christ? was what the woman’s tone of voice made it sound like.
“Yes. Pleased to meet you,” Maddie croaked out. She thought to offer her hand, but didn’t, fearing the woman would bite it off at the wrist.
Miz Smith ignored Maddie’s greeting and turned again to Hank, all calm and businesslike now, as if they were in his office and not the ladies’ room. “I have everything set up, Mr. Madison. We’re ready when you are.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right along.”
Ready when you are. I’ll be right along. That little exchange wasn’t lost on Maddie. It was as if she weren’t even in the room. Okay, so no one wanted her here. Not Hank, his mother, Miz Smith, the other employees, or the stockholders. Where was the surprise in that? Make it unanimous, Maddie told herself, because she didn’t want to be here, either. In fact, she was ready to flee right now. But to do so meant she would have to place herself in Miz Smith’s reach. That wasn’t going to happen. She would rather have ridden naked atop Beamer through the streets of Hanscomb Harbor.
Miz Smith quickly dried her hands and tossed the towel into the white wicker basket provided. She grabbed up her black leather notebook and papers from the shelf mounted above the sinks, and made for the door. She nodded conspiratorially as she passed by Hank and then exited. The door closed noiselessly behind her. Maddie tried to remember if the woman’s reflection had shown up in the mirror in front of them.
Then, into the silence left by Miz Smith’s exit, Maddie said, “Wow. It’s nice to see Rosemary’s baby all grown up and doing so well, huh?”
Hank chuckled. “She’s not so bad.” He looked around at this female territory he’d invaded. “Nice.” Then he focused on her, his gaze roving over her face. “We need to go. We need to begin the meeting. How’re you feeling?”
The meeting. Maddie’s heart thumped. She put a hand to her rebellious stomach. “Like I could toss my toenails.”
Hank winced. “Try not to.”
“I think I already did.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “So your mother is my new best friend, right?”
With a look of apologetic disbelief, Hank shook his head. “My mother is…” He looked around as if for inspiration, then sought Maddie’s gaze. “Well, she’s outrageous. You either love her or you hate her. She’s my Celeste.”
“Ah. I see. Thanks. That puts her in perspective.”
“Good.” His gaze traveled her length. “You okay? Can we go now?” He indicated the exit door behind them. “They’re waiting.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m in here. I told you I suffer from stage fright. And dogs. I’m afraid of them, too.”
Hank tucked his hands into his pants pockets, looking conversational, as if they were standing around the water cooler in the office hallway. “Yet you overcame that fear and have Beamer.”
“I was forced to have Beamer.”
“And yet you did it.”
“I get your point: I’m forced to chair this meeting today and I can do it. Look, I know how important it is to you, Hank. I do. And I want to do a good job. But would you just look at you?” She gestured toward him.
He frowned down at himself and then at her. “What about me?”
“You,” Maddie said again as if her meaning were obvious. It was to her. His black and wavy hair. His high, wide forehead. The perfect eyebrows. His dark eyes. Aquiline nose. Those firm sensuous lips. The square jaw. “You’re a Madison down to the bone. Rich, respected, in charge, capable. Those people out there will be expecting someone like you. And not like me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Maddie.” He smiled encouragingly. “Nothing at all. And looks can be deceiving. I’m not the least bit calm and collected, as you seem to think. In fact, I never am around you.” He stepped farther into the washroom and leaned a hip against the lavish counter and crossed his arms over his chest … and stared at her.
Maddie didn’t know what to do or say, so she smiled. “What?”
“Maddie, Maddie, Maddie,” Hank said slowly, sensually. “I can’t make you go out there. And right now I don’t care if you do or if you don’t. I’m happy just to be in here with you.”
Maddie’s heart leapt, her knees felt weak. She couldn’t look away from Hank, but suddenly she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She planted them at her waist, then crossed her arms under her breasts, then nervously smoothed her hair. This was insane. But could the washroom really be shrinking? It seemed so. It seemed as if Hank were getting closer and closer. She knew she hadn’t moved. Then she realized that Hank had.
He approached her with a slow rolling gait that had Maddie involuntarily tensing and standing up straighter. She wasn’t afraid of him. She just didn’t know what to expect. When Hank stood directly in front of her, he looked down into her eyes. “I told myself I was coming in here to get you to go out there and chair that meeting. But that’s not entirely the truth.”
His voice, low and husky, enveloped Maddie. “Oh, God,” she whispered. His nearness exploded the nerve endings throughout her. He stood so close to her that she could smell his aftershave. She could see the tiny laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, could see how long his eyelashes were.
A muscle in Hank’s jaw worked. His black eyes narrowed sensually. He reached out, gripping her by her arms. “Maddie, I want to—”
“Me, too,” she breathed, grabbing his tie and pulling him to her. She raised her face for his kiss. And Hank obliged, lowering his head until his mouth met hers.
The instant his lips touched hers, electricity popped through Maddie, weakening her knees, bringing her body alive. Her gasp was muffled by his lips being melded to hers. Hank’s grip on her arms tightened. Maddie gave herself over to the moment and rested her hands against his chest. Hank responded by enclosing her in his embrace and deepening the kiss. Startling her was just how hungry she’d been for his kiss. She put everything she had into it. Passion. Need. Yearning. She was on her tiptoes, leaning into him, clinging to him. And he was holding her so tight she was certain a rib would crack. Their tongues darted about, dancing an intimate tango.
And then … it was over. Hank was pulling back, looking down at her, holding her once again by her arms, this time to steady her. With a hand over her heart, Maddie gasped for air and saw that Hank’s breathing was just as labored, his eyes as glassy as she knew hers had to be. In a moment, he kissed her lightly on the forehead and stepped back. “Ready when you are.”
“Okay,” Maddie said, still shaky but tugging at her fitted suit jacket and smoothing her hair back. Hank waited wordlessly while she reapplied her lipstick. Then, with him at her side, she walked resolutely toward the exit. “I’m going to do this for you, Hank. But then you’re coming right back to Hanscomb Harbor and putting in your six weeks.”
“If you keep kissing me like that, it could be a lot longer,” he said, grinning, his hand at the small of her back.