Crazy Ever After (10 page)

Travis hesitated. “Of course it’s safe. But losing a highly visible, charismatic CEO like your father does have potential impacts.”

“Like some of the partners might not want to continue to do business with us, without him there? Is that right?”

“Well...it’s possible. I don’t have any hints of that yet, but of course it’s too soon to tell.”

“What if I called them myself? Reassured them that—”

“I’m doing that, Samara,” he interrupted, his voice hard.

“But you...” She trailed off then tried again. “I’m family. That would carry some weight, wouldn’t it?”

He sighed. “Maybe. But, Samara, you don’t need to do this.”

Why didn’t he understand? She lifted her chin. “I want to, Travis.”

She dragged her gaze away from his look of frustration to study the office. It was just as she remembered, nothing particularly fancy. She wandered over to the big U-shaped desk unit in the corner and stood looking at the framed photographs of her and her mother sitting on one shelf, the computer sitting dark and silent, the various office supplies neatly arranged. Paulette must have tidied up in there because her father wasn’t known for being neat and organized. His desk was usually piled with papers, journals and magazines, even burlap bags of coffee beans.

She nibbled her bottom lip and turned back to face Travis.

“Why don’t you want me here?”

His eyes widened then narrowed. “What makes you think I don’t want you here?”

She laughed. “Come on, Travis. It’s as obvious as a hooker on 82nd Street.”

“Jesus.” He shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want you here,” he continued patiently. “It’s just that you have enough on your plate right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first ten times you said that.”

“Then why aren’t you listening to me?” The words came out from between his clenched teeth.

“Travis.” This time her voice went softer, and she met his eyes. “Seriously. I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass. I really want to help.” She turned back to the neat-as-a-pin desk, walked around behind it, and sat in her father’s chair. She pushed the button on the computer to start booting it up.

“What are you doing?”

“Just going to look in his computer files.”

She glanced at Travis, at the muscle flicking in his tight jaw, almost expecting to see smoke coming out his ears.

“Okay,” he finally said, surprising her. “I’ll finish up with Paulette and see you at home later.”

He picked up some papers from the table and left the office, closing the door with a loud smack.

Samara sighed and watched the computer boot up. She really wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but she had to start somewhere.

She logged onto her father’s computer but was halted by the need to enter a password. She nibbled her bottom lip, debating about trying a few options. Then she pushed back from the desk and went to find Paulette.

“Do you know Dad’s computer password?” she asked her.

Paulette gave her a long look, then said, “Yes. I have access to his computer.”

“Can I have the password?” Samara kept a smile in place.

“I should check with Travis...”

“No! You don’t have to check with him.” Samara’s hands curled into fists. “It’s fine, Paulette, you can give it to me.”

“Um. Okay.” She picked up a sticky note and jotted down a series of letters and numbers, then handed it to Samara. “That works for his email program too.”

“Thank you, Paulette.”

She spent the next hour clicking through various files and folders, reading documents, contracts, correspondence, soaking it all into her brain like a sponge. Sure, she didn’t have as much experience as Travis, but she wasn’t stupid. She understood the business, and it wasn’t hard for her to figure things out as she read through agreements and contracts with suppliers and other stakeholders.

When she went into her father’s emails though, she felt a little squirm of discomfort. Emails seemed more personal, more private. When she scrolled through his inbox, she was disturbed to see message after message from Travis, several different threads on various topics that they’d clearly been emailing back and forth about. In fact it looked like the majority of his email was from Travis.

So they had continued to have a relationship. Her brows tugged down into a frown. Had her father forgiven him for what he’d done? She stopped, hesitating to open the emails. Her father might be gone, but Travis was still very much here, and she felt guilty reading their correspondence. But how better to understand what they’d been working on together? She bit her bottom lip then straightened her shoulders and opened the most recent message.

Her eyes moved over the screen. They’d been communicating about the coffee organizations in Brazil and Guatemala. She read through the back and forth messages. Importing coffee was one of her father’s responsibilities while Travis oversaw the wholesale and retail operations from their L.A. office. And yet her dad had been discussing that recent deal in Brazil with Travis.

She clicked to another email. Same kind of thing, different topic. Some customs stuff, problems with grading. Another email was about Parker’s attempts to arrange a meeting with the CEO of Alpha Air about a partnership. She supposed Travis should be in the loop on things like that.

Then she found the email that told Travis Dad had succeeded in meeting with Duane Scanlon, the CEO of Alpha Air, and he’d fill him in on the meeting when he was back from Matagalpa.

Except he never came back. What had happened at that meeting? She would need to follow up on that.

Samara looked through more emails then shut down the computer. She grabbed the papers she’d used to scribble notes, folded them and stuffed them into her purse. Why hadn’t she thought to bring her laptop or a USB drive so she could save some stuff and look at it later? She shook her head. She wasn’t thinking completely clearly. Travis had been right about that, much as she hated to admit it.

She left the office, but paused to poke her head into Paulette’s. She was talking on the phone. Samara mouthed a goodbye and waved at her.

“Could you hold a moment, please?” Paulette beckoned Samara in. She pressed a button on the phone and lowered the receiver. “Are you leaving, Samara?”

“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Paulette nodded, her eyes sad.

Samara paused and sent Paulette a sympathetic smile. Damn. She wasn’t the only one hurting. She had to remember that. “I’m so sorry, Paulette,” she said softly. “It’ll all be okay.”

She just had to keep telling herself that too.

Chapter Eight

The funeral was a blur of people—family she hadn’t seen in years, old friends, business associates, as well as total strangers—hugging and kissing her with whispered condolences. When Travis got up to deliver the eulogy, she watched and listened, mesmerized by his quiet confidence and strong presence as he looked out at the overflowing cathedral and spoke about her father.

He talked about how Parker had lived his life and the way he’d believed it was important to give back not only to the community in which he lived and conducted business, but also to the global community. He’d accomplished this with his commitment to improving the lives of poor farmers in developing countries. When he talked about how Parker had loved his family, her throat started to tighten, but when Travis specifically mentioned how much Parker had loved her, her heart softened and emotion swelled up in her. She bent her head and let her hair fall forward, feeling the eyes of everyone in the cathedral on her. Travis seemed to have intimate knowledge of Parker’s feelings for her, making her wonder how much they’d talked about her and what exactly had been said. It was painfully moving to hear how proud her father was of her, and the way Travis spoke the words made her almost think that Travis shared those feelings.

Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked rapidly as she listened to him talk.

After the service, Samara, her mother, Travis, and some other family members traveled to the mausoleum. There were no remains of Parker’s body, and his memory was marked only by a small plaque on the elegant marble structure.

The party at the house followed that, and again in a haze of emotion, she greeted guests, accepted hugs of sympathy, and took the drink someone pressed into her hand. She chatted and made small talk with people she barely knew, trying to be a hostess as best she could in her fog of sadness and grief.

All the while she was hyperaware of Travis doing the same, mingling with guests easily, standing out in the crowd, his broad shoulders clad an expensive-looking dark suit.

“Your father would have loved this.” Samara turned to see Paulette, looking sad but approving. She gave her a hug.

“Thanks for coming,” Samara said for about the hundredth time.

“A celebration of his life is so appropriate,” Paulette murmured. “He wouldn’t have wanted a lot of wailing and crying.”

Samara smiled. “That’s true.” She paused. “Paulette, I want to know more about what Dad was working on in Matagalpa. Are there files somewhere?”

“Um...well, yes, there are. But don’t worry. Travis will take care of it.”

Samara wanted to scream. Travis, Travis, Travis! “I want to know about it, though,” she said, trying to sound pleasant even though she wanted to grind her teeth.

Paulette patted her hand. “Well, I’m sure Travis can tell you anything you want to know.”

Yeah, right. Travis seemed determined to keep her out of things. But she nodded, forced a smile, and moved on to another group of business associates.

The party went on into the evening, with her father’s closest friends among the last to leave. They’d taken advantage of the generous open bar and were reminiscing about her father, all sitting in the den shouting with laughter at the stories they shared. Travis was right in there with them, and Samara went over to the bar and set down her empty wine glass, watching them with poignant amusement.

She could just picture her dad in the thick of things too, telling stories, Lagavulin flowing freely, and having everyone laughing uproariously. One of his favorite things to do. With a shrug, she picked up a bottle of Pinot Gris and poured another glass, lifting it in a silent toast to her father.

Exhausted from the efforts of socializing through her grief, she wandered outside onto the patio. She closed the door but could still hear bursts of laughter as she sank down onto the low stone wall where Travis had sat just the other night. Remembering the embrace they’d shared that night and the overwhelming attraction he still had for her made her shiver.

“You should have a jacket or something on.”

Travis’s voice startled her. She hadn’t heard him come out.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s cool out here.”

Her bare arms did tighten up into tiny goose bumps, but it wasn’t from the cold. She set her glass down and rubbed her arms. Travis shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

She wanted to shrug right back out of it, but it was warm from his body and smelled like him. She closed her eyes, breathing in slowly through her nose, absorbing his scent, dark, smoky, earthy, like dark Arabica coffee mingled with warm ambergris and musk.

He undid the buttons of his cuffs and rolled back each sleeve twice, revealing his strong wrists and forearms sprinkled with golden hairs. Then he did the same at his throat, undoing the top button and tugging his tie loose. In seconds he’d gone from impeccable businessman to laid-back and sexy.

“Everything went fine today,” he commented, sitting on the wall, turning his body to face her. She picked up the wine glass that sat between them.

“Yes.” She sighed. “It was fine.”

“You look exhausted.”

She smiled wryly. “Thanks. I can always count on you to keep my ego in check.”

He ran a hand through his hair and was that much closer to the youthful surfer-dude he’d been back when she’d first met him. His gold hair stuck up in all directions, appealingly tousled. “I don’t mean you don’t look good. Jesus.” He shook his head. “You look gorgeous as always. I’m just saying.” He tipped his head as he looked at her.

Her stomach swooped at hearing him say she was gorgeous. “I am tired,” she admitted, peering down at her wine glass. She couldn’t look at him anymore or she might jump onto his lap. “It’s exhausting. Thanks for doing the eulogy. It was...” She paused, unable to find the right words. She didn’t want to admit how much his words had meant to her. “...good.”

He gave a short laugh. “And likewise, my ego is firmly put in place by you.”

She lifted her eyes, surprised. He was smiling, eyes glinting. She’d always liked how he didn’t take himself too seriously, and the flash of humor made her relax minutely. Godfrey, he was sexy. Her body wanted to lean in closer, and she tightened every muscle she could. An urgent yearning for him burned low inside her.

“Are you seriously going to stay here?” he asked.

She held his gaze. “Yes.” Then she said, “What about you? You’re not going back to Los Angeles?”

“No.”

He too held her gaze. She lifted her chin. He lifted his. Sparks damn near flashed between them

She stood to face him, but as she did so, one of her spiky Jimmy Choo heels slipped on the rough stone patio.

Travis reached out and caught her arm. “Whoa.” His hand was big and warm on her bare arm, and his jacket slid off her shoulders to the patio. Startled by the rush of pleasure she felt at his touch, she wrenched her arm away from him and almost lost her balance again. Wine sloshed in her glass.

Suddenly on his feet, Travis made a grab for the glass and for her at the same time, his big hard body crowding her. “Samara.”

He held her by her upper arm, his grip tight. His mouth pressed into a tight line, he took the wine glass and poured the contents into a plant. He set the goblet down on the table and took hold of her other arm.

“Let go of me,” she muttered, her face so close to his she could see the glints of gold whiskers in the faint light from the house.

“Are you okay?”