office manager to drop the formality of surnames, but she persisted in using them, even though she preferred being addressed by her first name. Caitlin had figured out it was a waste of breath to argue with the woman’s eccentricities.
“I’ll be back to collect the signed correspondence—from both of you—shortly,” Irene added as she let herself out of Caitlin’s office.
Nathan released a gusty breath as soon as the door closed behind Irene. “See what I mean? She’s impossible. You’ve got to fire her.”
Caitlin reached for the stack of correspondence and a pen. “I’m not going to fire her. She’s much too good. And she’s actually very nice—as you would find out for yourself if you would give her half a chance.”
“I’ve given her plenty of chances. I smile every time I speak to her.”
“Ah, yes, the patented Nathan McCloud grin,” she murmured without looking up from her signatures, not surprised that Irene hadn’t fallen for such a practiced tactic.
Ignoring her, Nathan continued, “I’ve tried complimenting her appearance.”
“Plan B—fulsome flattery. That didn’t work, either, I’m sure.”
“I even brought her flowers on her first day of work. She thanked me, then put them in my office because she said they made her sneeze.”
“So none of your usual tricks worked. Have you tried just talking to her? One professional to another?”
“You think that would work?” Nathan asked doubtfully.
“It’s certainly worth a shot.”
“I still think you should fire her.”
Caitlin folded her hands on top of the now-signed correspondence and shook her head. “I hired her—on my own—because you didn’t want to be involved. If you aren’t happy with her performance, it’s up to you to fire her.”
She would have sworn his face paled at the very suggestion. “Me? No way.”
“That’s what I thought. So I suppose you’d better find a way to get along with her,” Caitlin advised sweetly.
He glared at her in return.
The speaker on Caitlin’s desk suddenly buzzed. “Mr. McCloud?”
Nathan jumped out of his chair as if the woman could see through walls. “I’m on my way to sign those letters right now.”
“Actually, you have a call on line two. It’s Mr. Alan Curtis from San Diego, California.”
Nathan looked surprised. “The attorney who handled my father’s estate,” he murmured. He motioned toward Caitlin’s phone. “Mind if I take the call in here?”
“Of course not.” She gathered her letters. “I’ll take these out to Irene.”
“Kiss-up,” Nathan murmured, reaching for the receiver.
She only smiled at him as she left him to his call.
Nathan watched Caitlin leave her office, wondering if he’d ever mentioned to her that he liked the way she walked. Smooth strides, soft sway of hips, head up and shoulders squared—very appealing. Of course, if he did tell her, she would get all gruff and flustered the way she always did when he complimented her, which was actually something else he found intriguing about her.
Did she react that way when any man flirted with her or just with him? And what would she do if he cranked it up a notch and suggested they actually go out sometime? It was a suggestion he’d been contemplating for several weeks, waiting until the time seemed right to approach her about it.
Only mildly curious about the call from his late father’s attorney, he lifted the telephone receiver to his ear. “Nathan McCloud.”
“Mr. McCloud, it’s Alan Curtis. I’m glad you were available to take my call.”
Nathan’s eyebrows rose. “You make it sound important. Is something wrong?”
Nathan’s father, along with his much younger wife, had died six months earlier in a tourist helicopter accident in Mexico, leaving a three-year-old daughter behind. The estate had been settled weeks ago, and Nathan couldn’t imagine any problems that might have arisen since. The child had been left in the custody of her maternal great-aunt in California and had inherited all her parent’s assets, since Nathan and his two adult siblings had refused any claim.
For reasons Nathan still didn’t fully understand, his father’s will had named him executor of the child’s inheritance. He’d retained Mr. Curtis’s services for the monitoring of those details. He had expected to be contacted only in cases of emergency. What sort of crisis could have arisen already?
“I’m afraid something is wrong, Mr. McCloud. Barbara Houston has been diagnosed with colon cancer.”
Barbara Houston was the woman who had taken in Nathan’s orphaned half sister. He’d met her only once, at the joint funeral service for Stuart and Kimberly McCloud in California six months ago, but she’d made a very good impression on him. He’d felt comfortable that little Isabelle would be raised in a loving, supportive home. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is it bad?”
“Very bad, I’m afraid. Her chances of survival are slim.”
Nathan sank into Caitlin’s desk chair. “Damn.”
“Exactly. You see why it was imperative that I contact you immediately.”
His head was starting to hurt. He raised his free hand to massage his temples. “What’s going to happen to Isabelle?”
“Mrs. Houston and I spoke at length this morning. She sees only two options. Her preference would be for you to come get the child and have yourself named guardian.”
Nathan spoke without hesitation. “That isn’t possible.”
“There’s really no one else to take her, Mr. McCloud. Your stepmother’s parents are both dead and her only sibling is an unmarried brother who is on active military duty, stationed overseas. Mrs. Houston is widowed and has only one daughter, who is divorced and raising four young children of her own. There simply is no one else. Unless one of your other siblings…?”
“Mr. Curtis, I’m not sure how much you know about my father’s history here.”
When Nathan paused, the other man spoke with audible caution. “I’m aware that your father was a prominent business leader there in Mississippi and had considered a run for the governor’s office.”
“He was a gubernatorial candidate,” Nathan clarified. “The campaign was in full swing, he was backed by some very influential people in his party, and he had a solid standing in the polls. He could very well have won the office. He was quite a hero here in his hometown, the first native son to run for such a high position in our state. And then, six months before the election, he announced that he was dropping out to marry one of his campaign volunteers—Barbara Houston’s niece, Kimberly Leighton.”
“Um—”
Nathan continued in a deliberately nonemotional tone. “It was a bit messy at the time because Kimberly was thirty years his junior, and pregnant. Oh, and my father was still married then—to my mother.”
Nathan could almost hear the other man wince. “Mr. McCloud, I—”
“I’m trying to explain why it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to bring my father’s child here. My father tore his family apart four years ago. He humiliated my mother and broke my younger sister’s heart. My brother hasn’t been quite the same since Dad bailed out on us. We’re still trying to rebuild our relationships with each other. Even if I were prepared to raise a toddler, which, believe me, I’m not, my family would never be able to accept her.”
“I’m sorry. I—well, I wasn’t aware that you were so