Page 34 of You'll Find Out
“And you disagree?”
Mara shook her head and pursed her lips pensively as her dark, honey-colored brows drew inward over her eyes. Thoughtfully, she clasped her hands together and tapped her chin. “No, I’m willing to go along with just about anything Solar Productions wants, but unfortunately the competition seems to have cornered the market on soft plastic; at least they can produce the action figures much more cheaply than we can.”
“And just who is the competition?”
“It’s all confidential, of course, and Solar Productions won’t tell us, but my guess is it’s San Franciscan Toys, a rather new company from California. They seem to have a budget that NASA would envy, and the right marketing skills to sell even the cheapest, most shoddily made toys, such as . . . that Lolly doll that Angie is so fond of.”
Shane’s face relaxed at the mention of his child. “And how is she this morning?”
“Just fine and still enthralled with the kittens.”
There was a pause in the conversation, and the smile left Shane’s eyes. “Did you see June this morning?” he asked, almost under his breath.
“Yes.”
“And were you able to tell her that I’m Angie’s real father?”
“I thought about it,” Mara admitted, “but I just couldn’t. She looked so . . . tired this morning, I didn’t want to risk it.”
“If the woman is so damned unwell, why do you let her stay with Angie? There could be an accident of some kind. Aren’t you afraid for her?”
Mara rubbed her temples furiously. “Of course I’m concerned,” she snapped back.
“Well?”
“Have you considered the alternatives? With my irregular hours, a preschool is out of the question. And as for a private sitter, I’ve never been able to find one that would give Angie the same care and love that June gives her. There are no alternatives. June is the best choice. Besides which, being with Angie is good for her.”
As Shane rolled his dark eyes expressively toward the ceiling, the door to the office swung open and Dena slid into the room. She began talking before noticing Shane behind the desk. “I waited for ten minutes, and then I realized that you had probably forgotten our . . .” she stopped in midsentence, her green eyes taking in the tall man sitting behind Mara’s desk and the crackle of tension in the air. It didn’t take a genius to guess that she had walked smack-dab into the middle of an argument. . . and from the looks of it, a personal one. Dena stopped short of the desk and adjusted the bulging folder under her left arm.
“Oh, Dena,” Mara cried, slapping her palm against her forehead. “I forgot all about our meeting . . .” And then, shaking her head at her own stupidity, she added, “Excuse me . . . I don’t believe you’ve met Shane Kennedy,” Mara apologized as Shane rose from his chair and offered his hand to Dena.
“Pleased to meet you,” Dena drawled in her sweetest southern accent, placing her small palm in Shane’s.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Shane countered, his dark eyes twinkling to add reinforcement to his words.
Mara watched the exchange between Shane and Dena with curiosity. What kind of game were they playing with each other? Dena smiled demurely, and let her hand slide out of Shane’s grasp.
“Would you like to postpone our meeting again?” Dena asked Mara. The smile never left her voice, nor her glittering green eyes. Her burnished hair was coiffed attractively to fall in curly tangles to her shoulders and her sleek Halston original knit suit hugged her body possessively. Dena looked every bit the professional advertising executive.
“What meeting?” Shane asked. “I hope I didn’t interrupt any of your plans . . .” The phrase sounded innocent and natural enough, but Mara found it hard to ignore the intensity of his words or his gaze.
“Mara and I were supposed to go over the advertising budget,” Dena quipped, sitting down on the couch opposite the large, glass window and crossing her slim legs with practiced elegance.
“Perhaps we should talk about the budget later . . .” Mara proposed anxiously. Why did she feel it much better to keep Dena and Shane apart? The two of them together, for some unfathomable reason, seemed entirely too threatening.
Dena ignored Mara. “Shane Kennedy,” she mused aloud, pursing her petulant wet lips. “You’re the man interested in purchasing the toy company?”
“I was.”
“No longer?” Dena pouted, tossing Mara a barely concealed look of disappointment.
Shane slid down in his chair and settled on his lower spine. “Mrs. Wilcox refuses to sell.”
Dena’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, and for a moment, her well-placed smile faltered. But gathering all of her professional aplomb, she begrudgingly said nothing about Mara’s decision.
Shane answered the questions in Dena’s eyes. “Mara has persuaded me to take an alternative position with the company . . . that is, if the board of directors approves.”
“Alternative position?” Dena repeated innocently. Only Mara noticed the hardening of her sister-in-law’s determined chin.
