Something inside Stone changed. It was a subtle shifting, much like sand flowing through a sieve. It was just a nudge of doubt and regret, coupled with admiration for her spunk and strength, but it pushed through enough to scare him to death. He couldn’t go soft. Not now. Not after he’d been working this deal for months.
But he did go soft. Goodness, he wasn’t such an ogre that he’d cause a woman’s children to go hungry. Was he?
“Look, Tara, we don’t have to do this today.”
It was her turn to pounce. Tara lunged across the table at him, her blue eyes bright with tears she wouldn’t shed, her expression full of loathing and rage. “Oh, yes, we do have to do this today. Because I will not allow you to continue to humiliate or goad me. You’ve won, Mr. Dempsey—”
“I’m Stone. Call me Stone, please.”
She gave the suggestion some thought. “Okay, then, Stone. You’ve won. You can have the land, as long as I never have to see you again. I’ll deal with your middleman, and anybody else who wants to do your dirty work, but don’t you ever show your face around me again. That has to be part of the deal.”
Now Stone actually felt sick. Sick at himself for being so rude and ruthless. He felt deflated, defeated, done in.
By a blue-eyed blond widow who had turned out to be very hard to deal with. A blue-eyed blond widow who’d just told him she never wanted to see him again. Only, he had to see her again. Now he had to convince her of that, too.
“You’re not serious,” he said, giving her a half smile full of puzzlement.
“I’m dead serious,” she replied, giving him a tight-lipped ultimatum. “I want it in the contract.”
Stone got up, pushed at his hair. “You want me to put in the contract that you won’t have to ever see me again?”
“That’s what I said—but I want it worded—that I don’t want to ever see you again.”
“That won’t hold up. You’ll have to see me, Tara, to finish up the paperwork, at least.”
“Then the deal’s off. You did say you like to remain in the background, let other people handle the details. What was it—you prefer to stay anonymous?”
“But that’s crazy. Once the papers are signed, that clause won’t mean anything. And it won’t matter.”
“You’re right,” she said, smiling at last. “It won’t matter then, because you won’t matter. At all.” She rubbed her hands together, then tossed them in the air, as if she’d just washed away a bad stain. “I’ll be done with you by then.”
Stone felt sweat trickling down the center of his back. This deal had all of a sudden turned very, very sour.
Surprisingly, he wanted it to matter. He wanted to matter to her. And he certainly didn’t want her to be done with him just yet. Because he wasn’t done with her, not by a long shot. In fact, as the famous saying went, he’d only just begun to fight.
Stone watched her, saw the agitation on her pretty face, but decided he was willing to suffer her wrath just to keep her near. “We’re not finished here, Tara. Because I’ve just decided I’m not ready to sign that contract.”
Her rage went into double overdrive. Giving him an incredulous look, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I want to reconsider this deal. We’ve waited this long, why not take it slow and think it through?”
“I told you, I want to get this over with.”
“Yes, I heard that loud and clear. And I’m asking you to wait. Just one week.”
She stomped and shifted, her taupe heels clicking softly against the carpet. “I’m agreeing to your offer on the land. You can’t intimidate me or play games with me anymore. What more can you possibly hope to gain by waiting, Stone?”
He came around the table, and unable to stop himself, he pushed at the fringe of bangs falling against her cheekbone. “Your respect,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”
Then he turned and left the room.
Chapter Three
I t had been nearly a week.
Tara stood at the window of her bedroom, looking out over the swimming pool and trees in her lush backyard. It was beautiful, and Chad had been very proud of it, but Tara didn’t see the shimmering water of the pool or the tropical foliage that she’d paid a landscaper to plant in her yard.
She only saw red. Because of Stone Dempsey.
He’d said he’d be in touch, but in the four days since she’d met with him, she hadn’t heard a word from the man. Even his trusted associate, Griffin Smith, wouldn’t return her calls. And she’d called several times. If Stone really wanted to win her respect, he could at least return her phone calls.
But then, maybe he had decided she didn’t merit any respect after all. “I guess I blew it,” she said aloud, her hands going to her aching head.
“Blew what?” Laurel came sauntering into the room, the sullen look on her face indicating that her mother had messed up on several things.
Surprised by this unexpected visit, Tara smiled. “Nothing for you to worry about, honey.”
Laurel plopped down on a gold brocade chaise longue set before the sliding door leading out to the pool.
“What’s up with you?” Tara asked, cautious to not sound too eager.
“I want to go to a concert in Savannah tomorrow night. All my friends are going. Will you take me?”
“What kind of concert?” Tara asked, the price of the ticket already adding up in her brain. The ticket, a new outfit, food. The sum kept silently increasing.
Laurel twisted the strands of a tiny braid she’d worn on one side of her temple all summer, while the rest of her long hair hung down her back. “It’s a new alternative rock band. They’re awesome. Can I go, please?”
Tara ignored the pain pounding in her head. “What’s the name of this awesome new band?”
“The Grass Snakes,” Laurel said, hopping up, her hands in the air. “Their latest single—‘Out to Get You, Girl’—it’s number one this week. I’ll just die if I can’t go, Mom.”
Already, Tara didn’t like the tone of this conversation. “And what is the rating on their latest CD?”
Laurel rolled her eyes, her heavily ringed fingers still threading through her braid. “What’s that matter? I like them. C’mon, Mom, don’t be such a drag.”
“I’m not being a drag,” Tara replied, familiar with this conversation. “I’m being a responsible mother. And until I find out what kind of music this awesome new Snake band is playing and if it’s suitable for you, I can’t agree to let you go to this concert.”
Laurel’s oval face flushed with anger. “You are so lame! Since when did you start being responsible, anyway?”
Hurt by the rage spewing out of her daughter, Tara could only stare. When she finally found her voice, she asked, “What does that mean, Laurel? I’m your mother. I’m trying to do what I think is best.”
“Yeah, right,” Laurel shouted, her hands on her hip-hugger jeans. “Now, Mom. Now you’re trying to do the right thing. Now that Dad is gone and you’ve finally realized you have a family—”
At Tara’s shocked gasp, Laurel stopped, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, never mind. It’s a dumb band, anyway.