Lake Magic - By Kimberly Fisk Page 0,5

for a long time.

There was a short pause, and then her mother filled in the silence. “Well, Mr. Worth, may I offer you something? A cappuccino? Espresso? Latte?”

He looked at her mother as if she were speaking Greek. “No.” And then as an afterthought, tacked on, “Thank you.”

Belatedly, Jenny’s business manners kicked in. “Please, Mr. Worth. Won’t you have a seat?” She motioned to one of the empty chairs at their table.

He continued to stand.

Seated, she tried not to feel at a disadvantage. Tried and failed. He was just too tall, too muscular, too good-looking. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the office when you arrived. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience for you.”

“No trouble at all.”

“Were you able to find the restaurant all right?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Phillips mentioned that you needed to speak to me right away.”

He glanced at her mother and then back to her. “I didn’t realize you were busy. I can come back later.”

She was never too busy for a client. “No, no. Now is just fine.”

For a moment she forgot her discomfort as she imagined her company’s bottom line floating away from the red zone and up toward the black. And her mother was here to witness it all.

He looked around the room. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

And have her mother miss this? No way.

“My mother is aware of my business dealings, Mr. Worth. Feel free to discuss whatever you need to in front of her.”

“I think it would be best if we had our chat in private.”

“Truly, Mr. Worth. There’s no problem.”

He let out a barely perceptible sigh, and it seemed to Jenny as if some of his bone-melting, megawatt-smiling, good-ol’-boy charm left him. “You’re Jennifer Beckinsale, correct?”

“Yes. I believe we’ve already established that.”

“The Jennifer Beckinsale who was engaged to Steven Harmon?”

Jenny wasn’t sure if it was her or her mother who drew in the sharp, quick breath at the mention of Steven’s name. It had been months since anyone had said his name out loud to her, and just the sound of it hurt. “Y-yes.”

“The Jennifer Beckinsale who was partnered with Steven Harmon in a seaplane charter business known as Blue Sky Air?”

She tried to ignore the pain at hearing Steven’s name again—tried to ignore her growing sense of unease—but she failed on both accounts. “I’m sorry, Mr. Worth, but I’m not sure what this has to do with anything. I thought you were here about a charter. About Blue Sky Air.”

“I am.”

“Oh.” His answer should have brought a sense of relief. “Why don’t you tell me your travel plans, and I’ll have my associate, Mr. Phillips, get in touch with you. With summer just around the corner, I’m sure you can understand that our schedule is not as open as in the winter months.” Lies. Lies. Lies.“But we will do everything we can to accommodate your travel needs. Blue Sky offers a wide range of travel options, from local trips in the Puget Sound area to frequent charters to the San Juans and British Columbia.”

“I don’t seem to be making myself clear. I’m not here to schedule a charter.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m here to discuss Blue Sky Air.”

“You want to discuss my charter business?”

“No, Miss Beckinsale, I want to discuss our business.”

“Excuse me?”

He let out another sigh; this one louder and more noticeable than the last. “I’m your partner.”

She laughed, but somehow her laughter fell flat. “I don’t have any partners. I am the sole owner of Blue Sky Air, and I don’t think this little joke of yours is very funny. Now, if you’re not here to book a charter, I think you should leave—”

“Christ.” He rubbed his hand across his face, then zeroed in on her again. “You really don’t have a clue what I am talking about.”

“You have no clue what you’re talking about, Mr. Worth. And it really is past time you were leaving.” He was sick. Demented. He needed help. Any other day of the week she might have offered to drive him to a doctor’s office . . . a hospital . . . a padded room with no door. But not today. Not with her mother sitting less than five feet away.

“I’m afraid it’s you who doesn’t have a clue,” he said. “Look at the contract; you’ll see that what I’m saying is the truth.”

“I don’t need to look at any contract. I am the sole owner of Blue Sky Air.”

He muttered something under his breath, and Jenny had the sinking feeling she should

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