LITMIR.BIZ

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held up a newspaper. “I brought you a copy of the Journal, too. Your father always liked to read the paper first thing in the morning with his coffee.” She paused tentatively. “I seem to recall you take yours black.”

      “You have a good memory.”

      She turned back to the door. “I’ll get you a cup right away.”

      “No, don’t bother,” he said, distracted. “I can get my own coffee.”

      Her eyebrows rose. “It’s no trouble.”

      “That’s all right. I don’t expect you to wait on me.”

      “Whatever you say, Mr. Spencer.” She fussed with the mail for a moment, then folded the paper just so on his desk. “Oh, dear.” Her bifocals hung on a chain around her neck, and she perched them on the end of her nose as she scanned the headlines. “That poor little girl is still missing.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      She looked up over her glasses. “You haven’t heard about it? A five-year-old girl was kidnapped almost three weeks ago from a school playground in Jefferson County. They still haven’t found her.”

      “That’s too bad.” Jared walked over to his desk and glanced down at the paper. The little girl’s picture stared up at him. Dark hair, dark eyes.

      “What a beautiful child,” he murmured, struck by the girl’s arresting features.

      “I know. I saw the mother on television the day after it happened. She looked just devastated, poor thing. I have a grandson the same age as the little girl. I kept wondering how I would feel if it was my daughter standing in front of those cameras, begging some madman to bring her child home.”

      “I hope they find her soon.” For a moment, Jared couldn’t tear his gaze from the little girl’s picture. He hated to think of an innocent child being taken from her mother, suffering unspeakable horrors at the hands of some psycho.

      “I hope so, too, but after all this time…” Barbara trailed off, shaking her head. “The world is a sad place. But I guess you know that as well as anyone.” Her gray eyes swept the spacious office. “It just doesn’t seem the same without him, does it?”

      “No, it doesn’t.”

      “Is there anything else I can get you, Mr. Spencer?”

      “Not at the moment.” He looked up from the newspaper and smiled. “I’m still just trying to get my bearings.”

      “You’ll do fine,” she said in a motherly tone. She paused at the door on her way out and glanced back into the office. “It will be strange, though, without him.”

      That was an understatement, Jared thought, sorting through his messages. He still hadn’t gotten over the shock of his father’s sudden death. He kept expecting to look up and see Davis Spencer stroll through the double office doors, demanding to know what the hell Jared was doing sitting behind his desk.

      Jared’s father had died four weeks ago from a massive coronary that had taken everyone who knew him by surprise. Jared had always thought his father would live forever. He was too stubborn, too powerful, too manipulative to do otherwise, but in the end, he’d been just an ordinary mortal, succumbing to an all-too-human frailty.

      And so Jared had been summoned back to the corporate office in Jackson after a six-year stint in New Orleans, where he’d overseen extensive renovations to the grand old Spencer Hotel on Royal Street. The Jackson Spencer, opened at the turn of the century, was the flagship of an elegant fleet of four hotels scattered throughout the South, but the New Orleans Spencer, established some thirty years later, was the most famous, a crown jewel shimmering with old-world ambience and charm in the heart of the Vieux Carré.

      The assignment to restore the hotel to its former grandeur had been both challenging and grueling, but it had also been a good place for Jared to make his mark. He’d earned a lot of respect and accolades from his peers over the years, even if at times his drive and determination had made him one of the most hated men in the company. But that, too, had toughened him. At the age of thirty, he’d already become a man to be reckoned with.

      Which was a good thing. His younger brother, Royce, had had six years to make inroads in the upper echelons of the Spencer Hotels Corporation while Jared had been out toiling in the trenches. For as long as Jared could remember, he and his brother had been fierce rivals, a situation encouraged by their father to prepare them for the “real” world.

      Whether it was on the football field, in the classroom or climbing the corporate ladder, Jared and his brother had been taught at an early age that it was a winner-takes-all world. The loser, it was always understood, got nothing.

      But where Jared had thrived on the competition, Royce had grown bitter over the years. He deeply resented Jared’s ascension to the presidency of the company, even though the position didn’t offer complete autonomy. Jared answered to a powerful board of directors, and his promotion could prove all too temporary if he didn’t live up to expectations. His age and experience troubled the old-timers on the board, and they would be watching him closely for any slipups, any lapses in judgment that would give them ample cause to remove him.

      Jared didn’t know what his brother had to complain about. As executor of a trust set up by their father, Royce had acquired no small amount of power himself.

      Frowning, Jared thumbed through the mail. The trust had come as a complete surprise. Unbeknownst to anyone except Davis Spencer and his attorneys, he’d devised the ultimate contest between his sons. The first to produce a Spencer grandchild was given, upon Davis’s death, complete control of a fifty-million-dollar trust.

      But Royce didn’t seem to appreciate the fact that the real prize wasn’t the trust, but his family. He had two great kids, a son and a daughter, but unfortunately, he seemed all too preoccupied with the money and the power it brought him. And even that wasn’t enough.

      “The board should have named me president,” he’d ranted after the funeral, when he’d learned of Jared’s appointment. “Their decision had nothing to do with who’s the better man for the job. You got that appointment solely because you’re the eldest. Don’t kid yourself into thinking you deserve it. You’ve been away for six years. Six years, damn it, while I stayed here and worked my butt off. While I catered to the old man’s every whim.”

      “What do you think I’ve been doing down in New Orleans?” Jared retorted. “I paid my dues, too, Royce. I spent fourteen and fifteen hours a day, seven days a week, on that project. You want to talk about working your butt off? You want to talk about sacrifice?”

      “Oh, please.” Royce gave him a killing look. “You were in New Orleans, for God’s sake. Do you know what I would have given to be in your place instead of stuck here with the old man?”

      “You could have been there. That project was up for grabs six years ago. But you weren’t willing to start out at the bottom, like I was.”

      “Oh, yeah, it was up for grabs, all right. And you grabbed it so fast, it made my head spin. You just couldn’t wait to get down there and prove yourself, could you? You couldn’t get out of Mississippi fast enough.”

      That part was true, Jared thought, but not for the reasons Royce had mentioned. Jared’s leaving had nothing to do with their father and very little to do with ambition. He’d left Mississippi because of Tess.

      Tess.

      Funny how he hadn’t thought of her in years, but the moment he’d returned to Mississippi, the instant he’d smelled the roses at the lake house, her image had popped into his head. He’d been transported back in time, to the very moment when he’d first realized that Tess Granger, the daughter of his mother’s housekeeper, had grown into a beautiful, desirable woman.

      He was just back from his graduate work at Harvard that summer, home for the first time in nearly two years. The family—including Royce and his new wife—had all driven up to the lake

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