The Deveraux Legacy

“So you’ll wait a bit,” Mitch said, loosening the knot of his slate-gray tie and the first two buttons on his starched dove-gray shirt, “and sell it for a profit then.” Damn, it was warm in here! And rather musty-smelling, too.

Lauren strode across into the adjacent drawing room and went to one of the floor-length sash windows that fronted the house. She unlocked it and tried without much luck to push it up. “I’m successful at what I do, but I can’t afford the upkeep, taxes and insurance on two multimillion-dollar properties.”

Mitch joined her at the sill and easily raised the pane she had been unable to budge. “Surely you’ve got some money coming from a trust fund,” he argued, as fresh spring air, redolent with the heady fragrance of flowers, poured into the room.

Lauren went to the next window and unlatched it. “It’s all tied up in Heyward Shipping Company stock,” she said as Mitch helped her lift that one, too. “I own forty-nine percent of the company, but I’m forbidden from selling a penny of it until I’m fifty. Or become an acting partner in the company, along with my father.”

“That seems harsh,” Mitch commiserated, as another draft of fresh air poured into the room. He and his siblings all had trusts from which they could draw forth on a yearly basis, regardless of what career they chose for themselves. And though they all preferred to support themselves with their own efforts, the money was still there for whatever they chose to use it for, even if it was nothing more than a financial safety net.

“It is harsh,” Lauren concluded with a beleaguered sigh. “But then that’s my father. He wants what he wants and he doesn’t care what kind of machinations he has to go through to get it.”

“And what he wants is you to be an active participant in the family company.” Mitch understood that. His father had wanted the same thing from his children. Only Mitch had been interested in working alongside Tom, however. His younger brother, Gabe, had gone into medicine. His older brother, Chase, had started a magazine for men. And his baby sister, Amy, had started her own redecorating business.

“Right,” Lauren said as she inspected the elaborate, composition-decorated brass and marble mantel. “But I have no interest in the shipping business.”

That could be disastrous for the company she was inheriting. Especially given the rapid changes that were now happening in the centuries-old business. But figuring Lauren wouldn’t be interested in the impact the Internet was having on the industry, any more than his father currently seemed to be, Mitch let the subject go. “How’d you get involved in real estate anyway?” Mitch asked as Lauren continued to inspect the intricate frieze carvings around the doors and windows.

“I like houses.” Lauren ran her fingertips across the painted white paneling on the walls, disturbing a surprisingly thick layer of dust. “Love seeing what’s inside them. And helping find the perfect owner for each house.”

Mitch grinned as Lauren blew the dust off her hand. “Instead of the perfect house for each owner.”

Lauren pivoted toward him, her eyes alight with a mixture of curiosity and pique. “And your distinction is…?” she prodded.

Mitch shrugged, and seeing no reason not to be forthright, said, “I get the feeling you care more about the homes than the people who buy them.” There was a very real tenderness about her as she looked over the house and determined what it would need in the way of time and attention. It was as if she felt the people could fend for themselves—these lovely old houses couldn’t—their very existence rested on continued loving care. Which, sad to say, some home owners and investors obviously were not motivated to give.

Lauren released a short, amused breath. “That’s a very shrewd observation,” she volleyed right back, holding his eyes. “And I’d probably be offended if it weren’t so true.”

Knowing she wasn’t alone in her feelings of reverence for the historic district, but a little surprised she would be so candid about her emotions, nevertheless, Mitch asked, “Why do you feel that way?”

Lauren led the way back out into the hall, back past the library and the spacious and once-elegant formal dining room, to the kitchen. “Think about it,” she said as she walked into a room with uneven floors, no appliances whatsoever and only the most rudimentary of metal sinks. She peered into the pantry, which housed several outdated cans of sardines, a bag of rotting onions and two empty mousetraps.

Holding her nose, Lauren plucked up the mesh bag and carried the seeping mess to the metal garbage can sitting just outside the back door. She dumped it inside, then went back to the sink to wash her hands. “Charleston was founded in 1670 and it’s the oldest city between Virginia and Florida. The homes in the historic district have been here for several hundred years. They’ve weathered hurricanes and wars and all sorts of other calamities, and yet they are still standing, strong and proud. Homes like this are worth preserving.”

“I agree with you there.” Mitch opened a window, letting much-needed fresh air into the stuffy room, while Lauren knelt down to inspect the massive brick fireplace. “The historic section of Charleston is one of the most beautiful and memorable residential areas I’ve ever seen. And I’ve been in some of the finest homes up and down the East Coast. You didn’t grow up here, though.” Seeing she was about done, Mitch offered Lauren a hand up.

“No.” Lauren smoothed her trim coral skirt over her hips. “My father wanted to live in the country. So we lived out at the family estate in Summerville, where he still resides on weekends.”

Mitch knew the place—some forty-five minutes away. Payton Heyward’s estate was a magnificent property, renowned for its beauty and historical significance. “But you have a double here in the city.”

Lauren led the way down the hall to a series of small rooms that had once functioned as servants’ quarters. “You’ve been doing your homework.” She studied him with a mixture of suspicion and respect.

Mitch shrugged, turned and stepped back against the wall to let her pass in the very narrow hall. “You received a Carolopolis Award for the revitalization of that home when you were done with it. Everyone knew about it.” The historic town home, which was exactly two rooms across, upstairs and down, had been photographed and featured in the Charleston newspaper.

“What’s so special about this house,” Mitch continued, as Lauren smiled and led the way up the back staircase, “except for its size?”

Lauren slanted him a glance over her shoulder, her soft golden-brown hair brushing lightly against her pretty face. “It bothers me, the way it’s been neglected. The family could have cared less about it,” she continued as Mitch reached the second floor and began following her through a series of bedrooms, baths and sitting rooms, all seeming in equally bad condition. “They opened it to the public sporadically to raise enough money to keep on paying the taxes, but they didn’t bother to take care of it in the process.” Lauren paused to consider the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in the massive upstairs library. “There’s water damage all over the place, from leaks in both the plumbing and the roof. The floors, as you can see, need to be repaired and refinished. The kitchen is completely inadequate. And the whole house probably needs to be rewired from top to bottom.”

“And yet,” Mitch said as they headed on down the hall to the music slash ballroom, “you’re willing to take it on.”

Lauren turned to him with a smile as she walked through the spacious party room. “I could make several million selling it when I am finished.”

Mitch had the feeling if she ever finished fixing it up and restoring it to its former glory, she would have so much invested in it, she wouldn’t want to sell it. “Or you could turn it into a museum,” he said.

“Or a bed-and-breakfast.” Lauren opened the lid and fingered the chipped ivory keys on a badly neglected baby grand piano.

“Are you thinking about that?” Mitch grinned as her noodling picked up speed and the familiar melody line of “Heart and Soul” filled the room.

He took over the bass and joined her in an impromptu duet of his childhood favorite. “I can’t really see myself as an innkeeper,” she admitted, making a face, as they continued to play on the hideously out-of-tune instrument. “I don’t particularly like cleaning up after people. Tidying up after strangers is even worse. But you’re right, I could make it a museum.”

Mitch studied her as the song wound down to an end and they stepped away from the piano. “But you don’t want to do that, either.”

Lauren shrugged as she went to the window covered with moth-eaten velvet drapes. “A home this lovely deserves to be lived in. It’s been roped off for far too long as it is.”

She had a point there, Mitch knew. Still… “It’s too large a place to live in alone,” he said.

She gave him a look that let him know she had no intention of living the rest of her life alone. “I’ll get married someday,” she promised softly. She paused, a defiant gleam coming into her lovely dark brown eyes. “But I won’t do it because my father has auctioned me off in exchange for some business merger.”

Mitch leaned against the wall, facing her. “You’ll marry for love.”

Lauren lifted her slender shoulders in an indifferent shrug. “That’s the only reason to marry.” She paused, looking deep into his eyes. “But I can see you don’t agree with me on that.”

Mitch thought about what “love” had put him through. Feeling abruptly restless, he moved away from the wall, walked across the room. Hands braced on the frame on either side of him, he looked out into the spacious hallway, appreciating all over again how big and majestic this mansion really was, before turning back to face Lauren. “I think maybe your father is right,” he said with all due seriousness. “Maybe we’d all be better off if we approached marriage and relationships with the clear-headed approach we use on business deals.”

Lauren rolled her eyes as she breezed past him and continued down the hall, to the sweeping semicircular mahogany staircase that dominated the center of the house. “You really want to date me, don’t you?” she mused.

Mitch caught up with her on the stairs. He wrapped his hand lightly on the railing as they made their descent. “I really want the merger that will make Deveraux-Heyward shipping the most powerful firm on the entire eastern seaboard. And,” he concluded as he reached the main level once again and turned to face her, “if spending time with you for one week is what guarantees that, so be it.”

Silence fell between them as Lauren plucked her blazer off the railing and tugged it back on.

“We can do this, Lauren,” Mitch insisted as he sat down on the fourth stair-step up. He clasped his hands between his spread knees. “It’s really not that much to ask.”

“Says you,” Lauren retorted back as she paced to the front door and back. She leveled an accusing fingertip at Mitch. “You haven’t had my father trying to control your life in every way possible for the past twenty-eight years.”

Mitch shrugged, and still feeling overly warm, folded the cuffs back on his shirtsleeves, nearly to his elbows. “From what I could tell, your father seems to love you very much.”

Still pacing, Lauren threw her hands up in exasperation. “He does, which of course makes all his behind-the-scenes string-pulling on my behalf all that much worse.” She paused, propped the back of one hand on her hip and looked straight at Mitch. “It’s like he doesn’t believe in me to be able to make the right decisions on my own.”

“I’ll be the first to admit that’s unfair,” Mitch commiserated quietly. “But you shouldn’t let your pique with him about that keep you from owning this place and lavishing on it the tender loving care you know that it deserves and needs.”

Abruptly, Lauren broke into a sweet-as-sugar, and just as impudent, grin. “Oh, you’re good, Deveraux,” she said. “Real good.”

Mitch couldn’t help it—he grinned back as he straightened. He drew nearer, finding himself still a good six inches taller than she was, despite the two-inch heels on her shoes. He looked down at Lauren, a little taken aback by the undercurrents of chemistry between them. “Does that mean I’m persuading you?”

“It means,” Lauren delineated bluntly, with a take-no-prisoners look, “that I want to own 10 Gathering Street as much as you want the Deveraux-Heyward merger. So okay,” she conceded on a reluctant sigh. “I’ll date you every evening for one week. But I’ll do so only on my terms.”

“And those are?” Mitch braced himself for the demands to follow.

“It’s strictly platonic.” Lauren firmly ticked off her demands. “No kissing. No hand-holding. No fringe benefits of any kind.”

Given the way she was looking at him—as though she just dared him to try anything the least bit romantic—it was all Mitch could do not to take her into his arms and kiss her senseless, then and there. “How about opening the door for you?” Finding his own pulse racing in what could only be anticipation, Mitch stalked her in deliberately predatory fashion.

Lauren stepped back, a slight look of alarm on her face. “No.” She folded her arms in front of her tightly.

“You don’t want me to pull up your chair,” Mitch noted, pretending he couldn’t imagine why not.

Lauren regarded him skeptically. “No.”

“What about coats?” he asked lazily. “Should I help you on with your coat?”

Lauren flushed, the same soft hue as her blazer. “It’s too warm for coats,” she stated, digging in where she stood even more. “Besides, should I want to take one off, I can manage it on my own. And one more thing. I know my father and what he’s banking on here, but you should know outright that no matter what else he offers me, our dating will not lead to marriage.”

Even as he struggled over his own guilt over the secret dowry her father had already offered him, Mitch felt compelled to take on the role of devil’s advocate. “Why are you so opposed to the idea of that?”

“I don’t know.” Lauren shrugged. “Maybe because it would be arranged?”

“Not if we decided on our own to wed,” Mitch said.

Lauren stared at Mitch in mortification. “And why would we do that?”

“Because it makes sense,” Mitch explained. “At least in a strictly business way.” Able to see Lauren wasn’t the least bit convinced, he explained, “The first tenet of business is to keep an open mind when trying to achieve your goals. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a short-term need or a long-term one. When a good idea is presented to you, you should make the most of it. Especially if it helps you meet your objective.”

Lauren looked down her nose at him as she said dryly, “Let me guess. You think an arranged marriage is a good idea?”

Mitch paused, uncertain how much to reveal. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Lauren, and he had a feeling that if she found out about the secret dowry he had been offered, she would be very hurt. “To tell you the truth,” Mitch said eventually, “I’ve never really considered an arranged marriage before—” But now that he was thinking about it—with Lauren Heyward as his potential bride—an arrangement like that could work. Given the right circumstances and attitudes, of course.

“I haven’t thought about it either,” Lauren interrupted unhappily, “and with good reason—it’s an outdated concept.”

“But now that your father has brought it up I can see he’s got a strong case for such a liaison,” Mitch persisted. One that seemed a little more intriguing with every second he spent with Lauren Heyward. Seeing she was going to need a little more persuasion, he leaned closer and said softly, “Think about it. We have similar backgrounds. We both understand the shipping business because we grew up with it.”

“But only one of us is actually interested in the shipping business.”

“Even better,” Mitch said emphatically. “Should we decide to marry one day, we won’t be fighting over who gets to run it—I’ll automatically have the honor. Plus a marriage-driven merger would allow us to expand and strengthen both our businesses, while still keeping both firms private and ‘all-in-the-family’ so to speak. Financially, it would be good for both of them.”

Lauren went very still. “What about passion?”

Mitch had only been with Lauren a few minutes, and he was already fantasizing about what it would be like to make love with her. But sensing she wouldn’t want to hear that, he merely smiled. “I think every marriage should have some.”

“Exactly,” Lauren replied with a mixture of satisfaction and relief. She looked at him in a way that seemed to imply on that score they weren’t compatible at all.

He sized her up and then decided a level of truth was called for after all. “I am attracted to you, Lauren.” He’d also never been able to resist a challenge—and the thought of taking her to bed and discovering all the ways to give her pleasure was very intriguing, indeed.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Lauren retorted with a haughty toss of her mane of golden-brown hair. “Because I am not in the least bit attracted to you!”

Fibber, Mitch thought. “Want to bet?” Mitch asked, and then did what he had been wanting to do since she had first stormed into—and out of—her father’s office earlier in the afternoon. He took her in his arms, lowered his lips to hers and put her declaration of immunity to the test. She gasped as their mouths fused and he kissed her long and hard and deep. Until he felt the need pouring out of her, as surely as the desire and temper. Until she moaned softly and melted in his arms. His mouth tingling, his whole body aching with the yearning to make her his, Mitch reluctantly lifted his head.

“Okay,” Lauren said breathlessly as he continued to hold her close, “maybe you are attractive.” She braced her arms between the two of them, doing her best to keep them from touching above the waist. “But that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to you, Mitch Deveraux.”

Mitch smiled at the stubbornness of her complaint, and bent her backward from the waist, determined to make her face the truth, no matter what it took. “Kiss me again and then say that,” Mitch challenged playfully, kissing the nape of her neck, the curve of her ear, before taking the softness of her lips and molding them to his. He kissed her again and again, persuading, tempting, until her body trembled even as it strained to be closer to his and her arms moved up to wreath his neck. And once he felt the soft surrender of her body, tasted the sweetness of her mouth, there was no stopping with just one kiss. Never mind one intended merely to prove a point.

Mitch’s heart pounded in his chest. The rest of his body went rigid with desire. Knowing the only way to be close enough to her would be to take her to bed and make her his, he tugged her nearer yet. He hadn’t wanted a woman as much as he wanted Lauren, since…well, maybe never. He couldn’t even say why, exactly. He just knew there was something special about her. Something special about this. And she knew it, too, Mitch thought. He could tell by the way she was kissing him back. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the way he wanted her—on an ill-thought-out whim. Reluctantly, he drew back. Waited for her reaction. Which turned out to be every bit as predictable—self-protecting—as he thought it would be.

“I’m still not attracted to you,” she repeated.

Oh, but it was going to be fun tearing down her barriers and making her face the truth about the chemistry between them. Mitch grinned. Feeling happier, more optimistic and content—than he had in a long time, Mitch looked deep into her eyes and ran his hands from her shoulders to her wrists.

Linking his fingertips intimately with hers, he asked softly, “Then why are you trembling?” Why were their entire bodies still reverberating with excitement and desire?

Lauren tore her eyes away from his and stared at the open collar of his shirt. “Because this whole idea of the two of us being together…because of a proposition put forward by my father—upsets me, that’s why.”

Mitch knew the idea of dating—maybe even marrying—a woman he barely knew should have been disturbing to him, too. But now that he’d spent a little time with Lauren, it wasn’t. Not at all. “How come?” he asked.

“Because we’re talking about the possibility of us one day getting married as calmly and logically as if it was a business deal, and it’s not!” Lauren said emotionally, pushing him away.

“Maybe it should be,” Mitch murmured back, and found he was beginning to agree with Payton Heyward more and more. The only mystery was why he’d never noticed Lauren Heyward before and sought her out on his own.

Lauren took a deep, bolstering breath. She let her hands fall to her sides as she looked into his eyes and squared off with him. “I want children, Mitch.”

“I want them, too,” Mitch said sincerely. So there was no problem there. If the kisses they had just shared were any indication, there wouldn’t be a problem in the bedroom. The problem would be staying out of the bedroom.

Lauren pressed her right hand to her chest. “I want a marriage from the heart.”

So had Mitch—once. But he had learned the hard way not to look for a passionate love affair to give him happiness. He clamped his lips together. “Infatuation fades.”

Lauren narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what happened with you and Jeannette Wycliffe?”

Mitch sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Suffice it to say, we were two people who definitely never should have married.”

“But you did get married.”

Mitch nodded, reflecting soberly on what a gargantuan mistake that had been. “Because we let our hormones dictate our actions. When I marry again, it will be because I’ve thought it out thoroughly and rationally, and know it’s a sound alliance that will infinitely benefit us both.” That we’ll be good together both in and out of bed.

Lauren rolled her eyes and looked at him askance. “It doesn’t get any more romantic than that.”

“I’m not looking for the romantic—I’m looking for the practical. And you should be, too,” Mitch advised stoically. The way he saw it, a temporary liaison between them would be very advantageous. Should they prove compatible, in the bedroom and out, an eventual marriage would be even more beneficial to them both. But even if they didn’t get along all that well or share the same goals and ideals, there wasn’t much risk or cost to either of them in dating each other exclusively for a period of one week. He’d had business deals he’d worked months to achieve that had paid him far less in actual dividends than this merger would. And he wanted—needed—this merger. Both the Heyward and Deveraux shipping companies did.

“In fact,” Mitch continued sincerely, “I think you should be grateful to your father for setting this up.” He knew he was.

At that, Lauren just shook her head at Mitch and muttered something about him being about as romantic as a tree.

“What time are we supposed to do this again?” she asked with thinly veiled impatience.

“From 6:00 p.m. until midnight, every night, starting tonight,” Mitch replied over the staccato tapping of her foot against the wood floor.

“Fine.” Lauren sighed, doing nothing to mask her lack of enthusiasm for the evening ahead. She planted her hands on her hips. “Where do you want to meet?”

“I’ll pick you up at your place.” Mitch plucked his suit coat off the banister and headed for the door. “And you probably want to dress nicely,” he added.

“Why?” Lauren regarded him warily.

“We’re having dinner with my parents.”

AND LAUREN HAD THOUGHT her day, already as eventful as all get-out, couldn’t possibly get any worse. She held up a hand to stop Mitch’s flight and stepped into the open portal in front of him. “Whoa! Why bring them into this?”

Mitch stood, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “Because I already had plans to see them. I can’t cancel. My mom has been having a rough time.”

Lauren’s heart filled with empathy for Grace Deveraux. “I saw she had been fired from her job on Rise and Shine, America! How could they do that anyway? She was the best host they’ve ever had on that morning news show.”