Evening Hours. Mary Baxter Lynn

do so would make him vulnerable, make him susceptible to emotions he didn’t want to feel. His motto was screw before getting screwed. He’d lived and prospered by that code for too long now to change.

      “What’s on tap for today?” Glen asked, breaking the silence.

      “I’ve sent Edgar after the files on the Magnolia Creosote Plant.”

      “Ah, so you are going after them?”

      “You don’t think that’s a smart move?” Drew didn’t really care what Glen thought; he’d already made up his mind. Yet it was advantageous to know what someone else was thinking. Different opinions often came in handy.

      Glen pulled on his mustache. “I didn’t say that, boss. You told me yourself they’re pretty solvent.”

      “Not so solvent they can withstand a smear campaign.”

      Especially not from him. Gobbling up small, floundering companies was how he’d made his millions. The fact that he’d ruined their good names beforehand didn’t enter into the equation. He chalked that up to sound business practices.

      Glen’s face crinkled in a grin. “That company would definitely be a feather in your cap, if you can get it, that is.”

      “Do you doubt my ability?” Drew’s tone was hard.

      “Absolutely not.”

      “When Edgar gets back with the information, I want you two to get together and give me the bottom line particulars. We’ll proceed as usual. I’ll devise the plan, then give you the green light to go forward.”

      “I have some info on the paper mill deal.”

      “I was hoping you’d say that. I like those who try to make me happy.”

      “The family is going at it tooth and nail.”

      “Ah, now that is good news,” Drew said, his juices starting to flow as vigorously as they had this morning when he’d humped Jill. “I take it my offer has them divided.”

      “Yep. They’re squabbling like hounds over a bone.”

      “If they don’t take my dirt-cheap offer,” Drew said, “then I’m going for the jugular by putting the EPA on them for dumping waste. When I plan my exact strategy, I’ll keep their backbiting in mind,” he added, his anticipation growing with each second.

      “Meanwhile, I’ll keep working on our present takeovers.”

      “No problems so far with this latest group, right?”

      “Right.”

      “That’s what I like to hear.”

      “I’ll be in touch.”

      Drew turned his attention to the buzz from his secretary.

      “Sir, Miss Benton’s on line one.”

      He reached for the phone. “Kaylee, my dear, good morning.”

      “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” she said, coming directly to the point, an asset he admired.

      He chuckled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “Oh, please.”

      “No, really, I’m serious.”

      Silence reigned for a moment, during which he could sense her concentration. “I wish I could believe you. But since I don’t, I thank you.” She paused. “One more time.”

      “Okay, thank me,” he said with another chuckle. “But again, I can’t take the credit.”

      “You didn’t send me this huge bouquet of flowers?”

      He heard the surprise in her voice, and for a moment rage filled Drew, not because she’d received the flowers, but because he hadn’t sent them. He rarely ever made a mistake like that. Following her honor, he should have sent her a congratulatory bouquet.

      If he had a soft spot in that hard core of his, it was for Kaylee. He’d never had the nesting urge. A home and family were responsibilities he hadn’t wanted. He was much too self-absorbed for that. But if he had wanted a daughter, he would want her to be just like Kaylee.

      He had known her since she was a youngster, had met her right after Edgar started working for him. She had captivated him then and still did. He would do anything for her.

      As long as she adhered to and played by his rules, that is.

      To date she had, and he didn’t see that ever changing. She was indebted to him in more ways than one and he aimed to make sure that didn’t change.

      “No, honey, I didn’t.”

      “But…” Her voice faded.

      “Sounds to me like you’ve got an admirer?”

      “Perhaps Daddy…” Again her voice faded.

      Drew knew better than that, and apparently so did she. Sending flowers to his daughter on any occasion would never have occurred to Edgar. His mind simply didn’t work that way, even though he adored the ground Kaylee walked on.

      

      “Well, anyway,” she said, filling the silence, “they’re absolutely breathtaking.”

      “And well deserved, my dear.”

      “Thanks, Drew. But I was so sure they came from you.”

      “You holding out on me, sweetheart?”

      She laughed. “I have no idea who sent them, but it’s no secret admirer, for sure.”

      “I guess that remains to be seen.”

      “Look, when are we going to have lunch together?” she asked, blatantly changing the subject.

      “I’ll call you in a day or so, and we’ll set it up. Meanwhile, enjoy your flowers. And enjoy the fact that I’m proud of you.”

      “Thanks, Uncle Drew. I wouldn’t be where I am without you.”

      He certainly didn’t want her ever to forget that. “Be sweet.” With that he hung up and stared into space. He didn’t know if he was happy with the thought of Kaylee having a secret admirer or not.

      Somehow, he didn’t think so.

      Seven

      “Have you called 911, Dad?”

      Trevor McFarland walked quickly toward Cutler, a pained expression on his face. “No, but I did call the doctor.”

      Cutler was definitely his mother’s son, having none of his dad’s physical characteristics. Trevor was shorter than both him and Mary by several inches. He wore his light hair in a flattop. His skin was weathered from having spent years in the sun as a building contractor, even though he was now semiretired.

      Father and son weren’t alike in personalities either. Trevor was far more sober, except when he laughed. Then his pleasure came from deep in his belly, and in that, he and Cutler were alike. Trevor adored Mary and Cutler had always thought they had a good, solid marriage.

      Having them as an example, he often wondered why he couldn’t make a similar commitment.

      “What did he say?” Cutler asked with impatience when Trevor didn’t convey anything more.

      “Only that he’s on his way.”

      

      Cutler quickly went to his mother’s bedside and stared down at her. Fear wrapped its tentacles around his heart. Was she breathing? For a second he couldn’t move. When he saw her chest rise and fall relief assailed him.

      “She’s asleep, son.”

      Cutler faced Trevor.