Adversaries and Lovers (2 page)

"I don't think I've gotten through to you."

"No? It seems simple enough, even for someone who's—" he gave her an ironic smile "—relatively short on smarts. As I understand it, you're a friend of the Stassen family. However, learning exactly who Kate O’Connor really is, I suspect there's more to it. The way I figure, you weren't through cutting me down to size at the reception so you've come here to finish the job."

She sucked in a deep breath and said, "I did not come to see you. In fact, there's no one I’d rather not see. Nor do I intend to take this up with anyone but the man who intends to construct that—" she jabbed a stiff finger in the direction of a rendering of the corporate office "—architectural monstrosity!"

"Then you've got about five minutes." Ben sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms, and waited for realization to dawn.

Kate eyed him, dubiously. After a long stretch of silence, she said, "Are you somehow... related to Benjamin Stassen?"

"I'm his son, Ben. I'm also the man who plans to construct that—" his mouth quirked with a wry smile "—architectural monstrosity." He watched Kate O’Connor's face flush hot pink, her cheeks deepening to a rich shade of red. For a few moments she said nothing, seeming to be digesting the information. "Speechless again, Miss O’Connor? Does this mean you won't be subjecting me to another of your verbal attacks?"

Kate lifted her chin. "I did not attack you, verbally or otherwise."

"You attacked my ad ideas which is an attack on my pride, and therefore on me. However, I'm willing to overlook it because I can't remember when I enjoyed myself more. In fact, your uninvited presence at the reception added spark to an otherwise dull evening."

"I'm glad you found it entertaining," Kate said, "because I didn't. Nor do I find your callow parody in the least amusing."

"Callow parody?" Ben repressed the urge to burst out laughing.

"Posing as your father to make me look like an idiot," Kate said, then flattened her lips and glared at him.

Catching the sparks of ire dancing in her eyes, Ben said, "I could hardly pose as my father. You're the one who jumped to that conclusion."

"You didn't admit to being his son either, and I certainly didn't expect to find Mr. Benjamin Stassen dressed for—" Kate's eyes roamed the length of him "—tennis. I assume that's why you're wearing shorts and a tee-shirt and have a tennis racket on your desk."

"You're very astute."

Kate's nostrils flared. "Don't you ever work?"

Ben shrugged. "I'll be working on my way to the tennis courts this afternoon, testing a new motorcycle helmet and a new line of safety goggles."

"With such a heavy work load you must be exhausted by the end of the day," Kate said, her words drenched with irony.

Ben gave her a wry grin, and replied, "Some days are more trying than others. Now, shall we cut the crap and get on with the real reason you're here? I doubt it has anything to do with old photos and keepsakes, given your inclination for subterfuge."

Kate shifted the box so it rested on her hip. "That's where you're wrong. I do have some photos and a keepsake," she said, hoping the irritating man didn't detect the shakiness in her voice. But she still hadn't adjusted to the fact that Benjamin Stassen, of Stassen Sports Gear, was none other than the leather-and-silk-clad renegade from the reception. Nor could she ignore his athletic build—muscular biceps and corded arms, strapping torso and flat belly, long powerful legs with their dusting of dark hair. She raised her eyes and caught his devil-may-care look. He really was a cocky SOB. He also made her decidedly edgy. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, and said, "May I set this on your desk?"

Ben shrugged. "Sure, why not? My curiosity's got the best of me."

Kate set the box on his desk and reached into her shoulder bag. "I found these in my grandmother's trunk and thought your grandfather might like to see them," she said, offering the photos, disturbed to find her fingers shaking and hoping he hadn't noticed.

Ben took the photos, smiled at her and said, "Nervous?"

Kate withdrew her hand. "I suppose a man like you would jump to that conclusion."

"And what kind of a man do you think I am?"

Kate found his slow smile unsettling. And dangerous. There was no question the man set her on edge. He also made her pulse quicken and her cheeks hot. When she said nothing, he added, "Go ahead, lay it on. I can take it."

Holding his dusky gaze, Kate replied, "Okay then, since you asked for the truth, I'll give it to you straight. I find you cocky and conceited and incredibly—" she stopped short of saying, good-looking, and added instead, "annoying."

"Then there's hope." He moved to her side, his warm breath wafting against her temple as he made a fan of the photos in his large hand and waited for her commentary. "And now you intend to tell me about these." It was a statement.

"Well, yes." Kate drew in a long breath to dispel the tightening in her chest, and said, while pointing, "This one's of your grandfather and mine. And here they are in front of the fraternity house where they were living..." her voice trailed off as she focused on the hand holding the photos. Large, well-shaped fingers culminated in short, clean fingernails, not nails imbedded with grease and dirt as she might have expected of a motorcycle buff. She wondered how many naive women might have surrendered to the touch of that incredibly masculine hand...

Aware that her thoughts had wandered into dangerous territory, she pointed to the last photo and said, "And in this one your grandfather's wearing this raccoon coat—" she slipped the lid off the box and pulled out the coat. It dangled from her hand like a great fur trophy, the pungent aroma of mothballs wafting from it. When she got no reaction, she said, "I thought your grandfather might want to see it for old-time’s sake."

Ben stared at the coat, saying nothing. Then his chest expanded, he nodded with a grim smile, and his nostrils flared. "Ahhh... Ahhh... Chewww!"

 "Bless you."

"Ahhh... Ahhh... Chewww!"

"Bless you again. I don't know why my grandmother had your grandfather's coat," Kate said, "but she's kept it in mothballs for years. You can see it's very well preserved."

Ben eyed the coat, with annoyance. "I imagine my grandfather gave it to your grandfather for the same reason I intend to give it back. Ahhh... Ahhh—" he pressed a finger beneath his nostrils to quell a sneeze "—
get the damn thing out of here
!"

Kate's forced a smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't know moth balls bothered you." Deciding she'd better get on with her appeal, she stuffed the coat back in the box and replaced the lid. Obviously he hadn't bought into the photo raccoon coat bit. He also looked as immovable as a mountain, and just about as indifferent. Convincing him to give up the idea of building his corporate office in Sellwood would be more of a challenge than she'd anticipated.

"Look, about my grandmother..." she paused while searching for the approach that would best tug at the man's heart strings.

"You came here to talk about your grandmother?"

"I came to talk about a whole neighborhood of kind, gentle grandmothers and grandfathers, helpless old people who’ll have no place to live if you build—" she shot a finger toward the rendering "—that
thing
, in Sellwood!" She sucked in a sharp breath to check her temper against another outburst. But the thought that this man could be solely responsible for destroying the lives of so many sweet old people made her mad as a hornet.

Ben set his jaw. "That
thing
was designed by the most prestigious architectural firm in the northwest, and I don't intend to build it in the middle of an old folks’ home."

"No, but you do intend to level an entire block of wonderful old buildings and build it in Sellwood, if you can get your zoning change. Which means everyone there would have to sell their homes because your architectural wonder would drive taxes up so high, no one could afford to stay there—" her voice shot up "—
including my grandmother
!"

"If my architectural wonder goes up in Sellwood, your grandmother and everyone else in the area will benefit because their properties will be worth ten times their current value," Ben said. "So don't try to lay that guilt trip on me because it won't work."

"You can't put a price on homes most of these people built with their own hands, and with spouses, many of whom are now dead," Kate countered. "And you can't put a price on a lifetime of memories that would soon begin to fade if they're forced out of their homes!" She snatched the photos from his hand, prepared to leave. "Furthermore, the advertising layouts for your new helmets are trite, hackneyed, and unprofessional!"

"And of course you're an expert in the field," Ben said, as she headed for the door.

Kate stopped and glanced back. "As a matter of fact, I happen to work as a layout artist for Boswell Advertising."

"Fine. Then you come up with something better," Ben challenged.

Kate turned and faced him squarely. "Why should I? I'd rather see you fall flat on your face with your ad campaign. That way, maybe your company would go belly up, which would resolve the issue of your office building going up in Sellwood."

"If my building doesn't go up there, it's only a matter of time before other commercial buildings will." One corner of Ben's mouth tipped up with that irritating half-smile Kate was coming to know, and he added, “However, we haven't yet made a final decision as to where the building site will be. We're considering several locations."

"You mean... you still could build somewhere else?" Kate asked.

Ben nodded. "It's a possibility. We can discuss it over lunch on Saturday."

The amused glimmer in his eyes made Kate uneasy. But if there was the slightest chance of convincing the man to build on another site, she couldn't afford to turn him down. "I suppose that would be alright," she said, tentatively.

"Fine," Ben said. "Bring some ideas for the AirFlo helmet ad campaign. We haven't decided on an advertising firm yet. Maybe Boswell would be interested."

Kate mulled over his suggestion. If she landed the Stassen account it would be a huge feather in her cap, especially with the position of art director looming on the horizon. More important, she'd have time to expand her appeal on behalf of her elderly friends in Sellwood... tell Ben Stassen about Thelma's garden with the ancient rose bushes she'd brought from England when she moved there as a bride, and the English garden her husband made for her behind the house, and about the brick patio Frank built for Dora for their first anniversary, and about the cabinets Grandpa made for Grandma from a black walnut tree cut on the family homestead.

Ben eyed her steadily. "We're willing to pay well for the right ad approach."

Kate held his dark gaze. "I'll see what I can work up by Saturday."

"Good. I'll pick you up around eleven," Ben said. "And dress casual. We'll be heading upriver to my place in the woods where we won’t be disturbed."

Kate caught the predatory gleam in his eye. "I'd rather not go to your place," she said. The thought of being alone with him on his own turf made her heart quicken. He was too macho, too unpredictable, and far too sure of himself.

Ben shrugged. "Suit yourself. But I doubt if I'll get another chance to listen to your campaign without the constant interruptions we have around here."

Kate glared at him. "You mean you couldn't work it in between tennis sets, or motorcycle chases, or whatever else you do during your working hours?"

His lips curved in a diabolic smile. "I have very little time between tennis sets and motorcycle chases, and what time I do have is usually filled with wine, women and song. So what's it going to be?"

He was toying with her and he was enjoying it. He was also boxing her into a corner. But if she wanted to plead her case, she had little choice. "Very well," she said, "but I warn you, I know karate." Which she didn't. But it seemed appropriate to tell him.

Ben laughed heartily. "So, the lady can defend herself. I look forward to that."

Kate had no idea how to interpret that but she definitely did not like the sound of it.

***

"What are you up to, girl?"

Kate’s hand jerked, dislodging the photo she'd been attempting to covertly replace in the album. She looked around to find her grandmother standing behind her. Offering her a contrite smile, she said, "Just replacing some old photos that had… uh… fallen out." She knew Grandma would not approve of her recent visit to Ben Stassen's office, or of her upcoming meeting with him on Saturday.

Before she could retrieve the other photos, a narrow shoe pinned them to the floor. Grandma slipped the photos out from under her foot and looked at them. "You're up to something," she said. "What's this all about?"

Kate looked up. "Nothing. I was just replacing the old photos."

"Well, don't go getting tangled up with this bunch—" Grandma waved the photos of Henry Stassen "—over the zoning change, because you won't get anywhere. The lot of them are a bunch of unscrupulous, unprincipled, nincompoops."

Kate eyed her grandmother, knowing there was more to the story than she was letting on. "You've always said that but you've never said why. What happened between Grandpa and Henry Stassen?"

"Nothing that concerns you." Grandma snatched up the photo album, shoved the photos inside and snapped the book shut. "You'd think a person could have a little privacy around here." She replaced the album and closed the trunk.

"Privacy. All you have in there is a raccoon coat, some old clothes, a photo album, and a bundle old love letters, not addressed in Grandpa's handwriting," Kate teased. "At least I assume they're love letters, judging from the pink ribbon tied around them. Come on, Grandma, fess up. Was there a young buck in your life before you met Grandpa?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Grandma huffed.

Kate studied her grandmother. The wiry little woman was truly disturbed. "I'm not being ridiculous. I know you loved Grandpa, so what difference would it make?"

"It doesn't make any difference," Grandma snapped. "Now go wash for supper."