LITMIR.BIZ

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she couldn’t help herself. “You’d be surprised what I might do these days, Edward Wocheck. Times have changed.”

      “Why don’t you call me Eddie?” he asked, catching her off guard, as he hoped to do. “Everyone else from the old days does.”

      Her smile faded away. She caught her lower lip between her teeth in the same nervous gesture he’d seen Liza use once or twice. “Because you aren’t Eddie Wocheck anymore.”

      He didn’t want to talk about their past. They had been children then. They were adults now. “C’mon,” he said, taking her elbow in a grip she couldn’t break without drawing attention to the act. “I need a drink.” He steered her toward a small table tucked away in a shadowy corner beneath the massive staircase leading up to the second floor. “And we need to talk.”

      “Business. Nothing else,” she said stubbornly, but with an undercurrent of real distress in her voice that he knew she didn’t want him to hear. Confronting him in this place was difficult enough for her, he suspected, without dealing with “what might have been” as well.

      “Strictly business.” His voice was gruff. He couldn’t do anything about it. “Sit down,” he said, before she could take advantage of his letting go of her arm to run away. “What do you want to drink?”

      “Tea,” she said automatically.

      He caught himself almost smiling again. “Nothing stronger?”

      She gave him back look for look. “Not if I’m going to have to match wits with you. You’ve got enough of an advantage already.”

      He leaned both hands on the table, towering over her, dominating the small space around them. He inhaled deeply, her scent, the fragrance of her hair, the smell of cold, clean air that still lingered about her. “You underestimate yourself, Alyssa. You always did. I’ll give you one free piece of advice—don’t fall into that trap now. Your company is at stake.”

      She had to tilt back her head to meet his eyes, and nodded very slightly. “I intend to do just that. But I still want just a cup of tea.” She folded her hands primly in front of her, the pale coral polish on her nails contrasting erotically with the creamy white linen of the tablecloth. Edward jerked upright, burying the wayward thought. He signaled to the barman. “My usual, Todd. And tea with sugar for the lady.” He sat down.

      “Could I suggest the mulled cider instead, Mrs. Baron?” the barman asked, coming over to them. The bar was almost empty in the afternoon lull between lunch and the cocktail hour. “It’s excellent. The cider’s fresh-pressed, from the Hansen farm. And the spices are my special secret.”

      “That does sound nice,” Alyssa said graciously. “I’ll have the cider.”

      “I’ll still have Scotch,” Edward said. “See that we’re not disturbed, will you, Todd?”

      “Sure thing, Mr. Wocheck.” The young man smiled at Alyssa and hurried away to do their bidding.

      “You made his day.”

      “Your staff is very well trained.”

      “I know. How is your father?” he asked, catching her off guard once more with the personal query.

      “He’s…not doing well. The trial was very hard on him. The verdict…wasn’t what he wished for.”

      “Amanda did a hell of a job getting him off. Ethan Trask’s case was just about as foolproof as you could get when all you’ve got to go on is circumstantial evidence.”

      “I’m aware of that,” Alyssa said. He saw a slight shudder pass through her, and he realized once more how important it was to all of them that they find out exactly what had transpired in this building the night of Margaret Ingalls’s murder.

      “I couldn’t be prouder of Amanda,” Alyssa went on. Her face lightened for a moment, regained the luminous quality of her youth, and Edward felt his heart rate accelerate yet again. She looked up at the bartender, still smiling as he set a mug of steaming cider in front of her. “Thank you, Todd.” She remained silent for several moments after he left, and Edward watched as she lifted the cinnamon stick out of her drink and laid it on the coaster. She had lovely hands, made to hold a flower, soothe a child, make love to a man.

      “I didn’t expect to see you here again so soon.” He took another swallow of Scotch, waiting for Alyssa to bring up the reason she’d sought him out.

      She squared her shoulders. Her hands tightened around the glass mug and she lifted her blue eyes to his. Her lips firmed into a straight line. “I’m here to ask you, as an old friend—” she stumbled slightly on the last phrase “—to ask you to withdraw DEVCHECK’s offer to buy Ingalls F and M.”

      “I can’t do that, Lyssa.”

      “What do you mean, you can’t do that?” She was angry all over again. “You own the company. You can do anything you want.”

      He shook his head, wishing he had another swallow of Scotch in his glass. Not for the alcohol content, but for the few moments’ delay it would give him in answering. What he said next would determine the course of the negotiations for the plant. Alyssa was a far more formidable opponent than her inexperience in the business world might lead a man to believe. Edward couldn’t help wondering what it would be like crossing swords with her in an all-out takeover battle. But he didn’t dare risk finding out. The last thing he wanted was an acrimonious business relationship with the woman he’d once loved more than anyone else in the world.

      “It doesn’t work that way, Lyssa,” he said cautiously, feeling his way. She refused to look away, although her lower lip trembled slightly and her voice was husky with suppressed emotion.

      “I’m not very good at this. You’ll have to explain it to me.”

      Edward’s mind was suddenly blank. The only thing he could concentrate on was the curve of Alyssa’s mouth. He could remember nothing but the velvety softness of her lips, the taste of her skin, the scent of her hair when he’d kissed her under the mistletoe last Christmas. He wanted to kiss her again. Here and now. And that was the last thing he could afford to do.

      It was Edward’s turn to be angry. Anger was an emotion he could control, that could be turned to his advantage. And it helped keep his mind off wanting Alyssa Ingalls Baron’s body far more than he wanted her father’s company.

      “It’s cold, hard reality, Lyssa,” he said, standing up, asserting his dominance, both physically and mentally. “Ingalls F and M needs an infusion of capital. It needs a lot of money and it needs it now.”

      “I’m well aware of that,” she said, refusing to give ground. “I made the mistake of asking you for a loan just a few days ago.”

      “It was a mistake,” he agreed bluntly. “It would only postpone the inevitable and increase your liabilities. Waste my money and leave you so far in debt you’d never get out. What Ingalls needs to survive is clout. There’s no way you can get that on your own.”

      “We’re doing business the way my father has for more than fifty years.”

      “It isn’t the way to do business now,” he said, not pulling his punches. “The days of small, independent concerns like Ingalls F and M are gone, Lyssa, even if your father refuses to recognize the fact. I want to see the plant stay in Tyler. If Nitaka buys you out, they’ll move it south lock, stock and barrel. If DEVCHECK buys you out, the work and the jobs will stay here. I want to see a strong economic base in Tyler as much as you do. I want a labor pool of well-educated, stable residents to draw on for Timberlake.”

      “But what’s in it for you?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “What does DEVCHECK want with the F and M?”

      “The same thing Nitaka does—a chance to get into the agriculture market, quickly and quietly. Ingalls isn’t the only small agri-manufacturer we’re looking

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