“You’re just refusing to see the possibilities.”
“Griff, was there a point to this visit?” she asked pointedly, glancing at her watch. Griff liked to torture her—good-naturedly, of course, or so he claimed, as did the rest of her family members who were part of Llewellyn Enterprises—Daniel, Theo and Eileen. Jillian knew that she tended to be her grandfather’s fair-haired child, despite the fact that she hadn’t risen to the head of the family class on purpose, nor was she calling the shots at the company now. But she had grown up with her grandfather, she knew him best—and loved him best. Jewelry design was her favorite part of the work, while Theo was a crack marketer, and Eileen’s expertise was public relations.
Daniel was the one with his hands on the reins, though—right behind her grandfather’s. He knew the business, every aspect of it, and with the scope of their various concerns, she was glad. Perhaps her grandfather could control everything, but he was the only man who could. People tended to think of the company as one giant prize. It wasn’t. It was a giant jumble of various enterprises, and it took a variety of talents to keep it in its current excellent shape.
Griff always told her that his expertise was looking good and pretending to be busy, whether he was or wasn’t. And, of course, being charming. He had a point. She couldn’t help but like Griff herself.
Eileen was her first cousin, an only child like herself. The boys were the grandsons of her grandfather’s brother, who had perished in the ever precious “Old Country.” Douglas had outlived not only his brother, but also his two sons and his nephew, the boys’ father, Steven. Jillian often thought of how it must have pained him to lose so many people he had loved so much. But he never faltered; he went on, giving his devotion to the remaining Llewellyns. No one had been forced into the business; they had come because of the same fierce sense of family pride and loyalty.
“You know,” Griff said, wagging a finger at her, “you could do a lot worse. I am handsome, witty, urbane and charming.”
“Of course I could do worse. But you’re my cousin. So, Griff—”
“Don’t you remember playing naked together on those fur rugs when we were babies?”
“Griff, we never played naked together on any fur rugs.”
“I guess not. If we had, you would have remembered.”
She groaned and laid her head on the desk. “Griff, what’s your problem? You’re cute, you’re—”
“Cute? I want to be sexy and devastating.”
“Okay, you’re sexy and devastating.”
“That’s better.”
“And I’m really trying to finish up and get out of here today.”
“I’m really here on an errand of mercy.”
“Oh?” she queried carefully.
“It’s Halloween. I didn’t want you going home alone. You know, poor little rich girl, all alone in the family mansion. That big old place where none of the rest of us are invited to live.”
She leaned back, grinning. “You are such a pathetic liar.”
“Well, in a way, but not really. I don’t want to live in the family mansion. I like my privacy. And believe it or not, the family fortune isn’t my bag, though I do like to live with a certain style.”
“Griff, I have no fear of you ever changing.”
He grinned. “I’m worthless, totally. And happy. And smart enough to be grateful.”
“You pretend to be worthless, but you know you’re not. Anyway, I need to get out of here.”
“So you can sit by the fire like a little old lady and hand out candy to the kiddies? No. Ever since Milo died, you don’t do anything or go anywhere. It’s time for you to start doing things again. You’re not a mole. Not to mention, you’re far too young and…yes, good-looking. Why, Jillian, some people might even call you beautiful. Thanks to good family genes, of course. And right now all that beauty is just being wasted. You need to get out again.”
She felt a rush of air escape her. It was odd how life went on, but that, at strange moments, grief would come sailing back and, like a blanket, wrap itself around her. She had known what she was doing when she got married. She had always known she would lose Milo.
And she knew that Griff really was here to help her.
So she smiled. “For your information, I am going out.”
“A date?” he queried.
“Maybe.”
“With Robert Marston?” he asked carefully.
“Robert Marston?” she repeated impatiently.
Robert Marston had just started working for the company. He wore Armani just as well as Griff did, but he came with sharp, very dark eyes and, in Jillian’s opinion, a sharper—possibly darker—mind. He was handsome, intelligent, deep-voiced and very articulate. He had gone to school with Theo, and spent the past five years with one of the fastest-growing computer companies in the world. He was the type of man who walked into a room and drew attention. By his physical nature he seemed to exude authority.
She had felt wary of him from the moment she had first seen him—and that had actually been from quite a distance. She didn’t even know the color of those dark eyes of his. There had been far too many rumors flying about for her to willingly meet the man her grandfather had brought into the business.
Was he stepping on her cousins’ toes? Or were her cousins in agreement with the situation, content for Marston to be the one with the power? Somehow, she doubted it.
“Why on earth would you assume I’m going out with him?” she asked too sharply. She had wanted to convey courteous impatience. She was afraid that her tone had given away concern.
His grin told her that he had, indeed, heard far more than impatience in her voice. “Well, are you going out with him?”
“No, I haven’t even met him yet. I saw him across a room. And I don’t believe in going out with business associates.”
“So?”
“I’m going out with Connie.”
“With Connie?” he repeated. Was that relief she heard in his voice? Connie had been one of her best friends forever, way back to grade school. Connie was also her administrative assistant. And since it was such a family enterprise, Connie’s husband, Joe, also worked for the company. He was on Daniel’s staff.
“Yes, Connie and I are going out. As we do every Halloween,” she reminded him.
He dropped his teasing manner for a moment and looked at her seriously. “You’re really going to go—”
“Christmas shopping, yes.”
“As everyone does on Halloween,” he responded with a fine line of sarcasm.
“It’s a personal tradition,” she said with feigned indignation. It was a strange tradition, she knew, and it had started when they were little kids who went trick-or-treating together. Now Connie had two daughters, a dog, a cat, a bird and in-laws coming out the kazoo, so she traditionally started her Christmas shopping on October thirty-first, convinced that the best Christmas sales came on Halloween, when everyone was doing last-minute scrambling for a costume. They had a great time shopping, then going trick-or-treating with the girls, and then, usually, just spending the evening together checking out the acquired candy.
“All right,” Griff said. “Just so long as you’re really going out.”
“I really am.”
“Not to baby-sit or hand out candy.”