On Temporary Terms. Janice Maynard

passionate love affairs. The epic gestures. The decades-long marriages.”

      “You’re awfully young for such pessimism, aren’t you?”

      “And you don’t know me well enough to make that judgment,” she snapped.

      He blinked. The lawyer had a temper. “My apologies. We should get on with the will. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

      Abby groaned audibly. “Sorry. Hot-button issue. Perhaps we could back up a step or two. And yes, we’ll go over the will, but first, one more question. If your grandmother left Scotland to settle here with your grandfather, how did you wind up a Scotsman?”

      “My grandparents had only one child, my father. Dad was always fascinated with his Scottish roots. As soon as he was an adult, he moved to the Highlands and never looked back. Scotland is the only home Brody and I have ever known, except for the occasional visits here to Candlewick.”

      “I know about your brother’s boating business in Skye. What did you do there?”

      “I was his CFO.” He stopped and sighed. “Still am, I guess. We don’t know how long this hiatus will be. I’ve urged him to replace me permanently. It’s not fair for the business to limp along indefinitely.”

      “I’m sorry. This must be a very challenging time for you.”

      The genuine kindness in her soft gray eyes warmed him. For the first time in days, he believed he might survive this sea change in his life. “Not as hard as losing Grandda. That shook all of us. He was an amazing man.”

      “Yes, he was. I didn’t know him well, but his reputation in Candlewick is impressive. People around here would do most anything for your grandmother. She is beloved, you know.”

      “I do know. That’s one reason none of us had the heart to insist she leave. That and the fact that we would have had to pick her up bodily and carry her onto a plane kicking and screaming.”

      “Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”

      “You don’t know the half of it. When a cantankerous old Scotswoman sets her mind to something, there’s no choice but to get out of her way.”

      “I don’t envy you the task of keeping her in line.” Abby smiled, her eyes alight with humor.

      Duncan tried not to notice the way her breasts moved when she shifted in her chair. “Would you have dinner with me one evening?” he asked impulsively.

      The lawyer stilled. The air in the room hushed. Even Duncan was momentarily abashed. He was not at all an impulsive kind of man.

      Abby gnawed her lip. “I’m not sure that would be ethical.”

      Duncan seized on the weakness in her argument and the fact that she hadn’t given him an unequivocal no. “You’re not my lawyer,” he said.

      “Perhaps I should have been more clear from the beginning,” she replied, looking rattled and mildly alarmed. “My colleague, Mr. Chester, has been your grandparents’ lawyer for a very long time. But he’s on medical leave at the moment following serious heart surgery. I’ve been charged with handling your grandmother’s affairs in the short term. We have a client who is very interested in purchasing Stewart Properties. It’s a cash offer.”

      Duncan’s cynicism kicked in, laced with a big dose of disappointment. Lawyers were snakes, every single one of them. “Not interested.”

      Abby’s gaze narrowed. “It’s a very fair offer.”

      “I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about it. Granny doesn’t want to sell.”

      “I thought you were looking out for her best interests,” the lawyer said, a bite in her voice.

      “I definitely am. So it raises a big red flag for me when her lawyers try to force her to sell a company she loves.”

      “Mr. Chester cares about your grandmother’s well-being. We all do.”

      “How touching.”

      “Are you being intentionally rude and cynical, or does it come naturally to you? I resent having my professional ethics called into question.”

      “And I resent people who try to take advantage of an old woman.”

      “How does making her extremely wealthy take advantage of her?”

      “Granny doesn’t need more money. She has plenty.”

      “No one ever has enough money, Mr. Stewart. Trust me.”

      Duncan heard something in that remark...something wounded and weary. But he chose not to pursue it at the moment. Despite his entirely logical antipathy toward lawyers and the inescapable notion that he should stay far away from this woman, he circled back to his original proposal. “Have dinner with me,” he said.

      “No.”

      Duncan frowned. “Think of it as community service. I’m lonely. I don’t know a single person in town other than my ancient grandmother and you. Have pity on me, Abby Hartmann. And call me Duncan. I feel as if we know each other already.”

      “Don’t lay it on too thick, Duncan. I’ll think about it. But don’t push me. Besides, why would you want to have dinner with a snake-in-the-grass lawyer? I’m getting very mixed signals from you.”

      Duncan held up his hands. “I’ll no’ mention it again. At least not for a few days. And you have a fair point. Now how about that will?”

      Abby seemed relieved at the change of subject. Duncan entertained himself by watching her shift back into lawyer mode. She clicked a button on her computer, consulted a notepad, and opened a legal-size folder, muttering to herself charmingly as she did so.

      He’d always been attracted to smart women. Something about their unwillingness to put up with crap from men challenged his masculinity and brought out his fighting instincts. Abby was no pushover. Though he was well aware that his arousal was not one-sided, he was not foolish enough to assume that meant an easy conquest.

      If he wanted the lushly rounded lawyer in his bed, she would make him work for it. He liked that. A lot...

      At last, she slid a second folder across the desk to him and opened it. “Here you go. You’ve seen an earlier version of this. One significant addition is an escape clause, if you will. After twenty-four months, if you’re unhappy and still want to go home, your grandmother has agreed to sell Stewart Properties and accompany you back to Scotland. I’ve flagged the changes and the spots where you’ll add your name. Your brother and grandmother have already signed.”

      Duncan frowned. “They have?”

      “Yes. Brody needed to do it before he left. Your grandmother came with him.”

      “Why did no one tell me?” Duncan had a bad feeling in his gut.

      “I’m telling you now.”

      Duncan scanned the paragraphs of legal-speak, searching for the alterations that necessitated this visit. His heart pounded. The tiny pink “flags” denoting spots requiring his signature mocked him. Surely he wasn’t reading the document correctly. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly. “Granny told us she was leaving her company to Brody and me fifty-fifty.”

      “In light of recent developments—Brody’s marriage, your relocation to America—your grandmother and your brother thought it would be only fair to change the split to eighty-twenty. You’ve given up your career and your life in Scotland. They want to make sure you don’t suffer for that decision.”

      “I made the choice willingly,” he insisted. “I didn’t ask for anything in return. This is preposterous. I won’t sign it.”

      “Have you met your grandmother?” Abby asked jokingly, her expression sympathetic. “I can assure you she won’t be moved on this point.