Full Disclosure (Homefront: The Sheridans Book 2) (3 page)

My hands press against the revolving door
and my heels tap a rhythm on the marbled floors. I try to tame my hair, frizzy
from the morning’s pea soup humidity, looping it into a short, tight ponytail. Keeping
myself from glancing at the portrait of my boss in the lobby—it usually
has a dizzying effect on me—I press the “up” button. But I feel the
piercing eyes of his portrait searing into my core as I stand there, and I
can’t resist giving him a glimpse.

Logan once told me his brother Ryan is
thirty-one. A little young, some might say, to be running a multi-billion
dollar company. But he took over when his father was diagnosed with vascular
dementia, and despite the change in command, the company has thrived. The senior
Sheridan still has his hand in a few projects locally, but it’s definitely his
son’s game now.

When the elevator doors open, I’m forced
to pull my eyes from the painting.

Who would have known the guy was sporting
pecs like
that
underneath his Italian-made suit?

I give a slight frown as I step into the
elevator, knowing I’ll have to trudge through my work day fantasizing about my
boss in various states of undress.

- RYAN -

My hand traces the stubble along my
jawline as I approach my driveway. I’m late again, which has become the norm
for me since Hannah started school last month. I had no idea just how much
effort it took to get a seven-year-old out the door on a school day.

I know I should hire a nanny; my brothers
remind me of this daily. But I’m not ready for that yet. Hannah heard the
words, “I can’t handle you,” enough from her mother. I refuse to let my
daughter think I can’t handle her either.

I
can
handle her. It’s the school
system that has me baffled. Four weeks at the public elementary school where my
brothers and I went at her age, and they’ve put me through the wringer of six
teacher meetings, two with the principal, and four with the special ed counselor,
all trying to get the accommodations listed on the “Individualized Education
Program” it took me three doctor appointments to wrangle. Hell, before last
month I didn’t even know what an IEP was. Now I’m having dreams about them.

Correction: I’m having nightmares about
them.

Stick me with a fork. I’m done.

Pulling my car into my garage, my stomach
pinches with worry at the thought of her starting at a private school today,
one with smaller classes. It’s the only other option in our town, but my
brother Logan’s girlfriend Allie says she has a friend with a kid in there, and
has only heard good things about it.

Allie’s great, so that’s a solid enough
recommendation for me.

I pick up my pace as I step into my house.
It seems so quiet in here now when Hannah’s not around, and I soak up the
silence, hearing only my feet against the floor as I make a beeline for my
master bath.

The house is too big for Hannah and me. All
we really need is a two-bedroom bungalow, or maybe three bedrooms so that I can
have a home office. But whoever heard of a CEO living in a tiny bungalow?

I glance at my watch as I reach for my
shaver. I’ve learned not to arrange meetings in the morning anymore, despite
what that pixie-faced mom in the carpool line said when she rescued me from the
PTO president.

Who the hell was she? She must work for
JLS and recognized me. I’d write her a hell of a bonus check for getting me out
of that conversation with Natalie…
Brimswall, was it?
... who was
hell-bent on me volunteering for some fundraiser.

I run a company that employs half the
town, and just finished up my first month of being a full-time dad. I don’t
have time to serve on some committee for some kind of Hawaiian luau-themed
fundraiser.

A luau? In October? In
Ohio
?

And did she really say they were serving
pigs-in-a-blanket? I’m not even sure what those are, but I’d bet my Jag that
they’re not Hawaiian.

Saying yes seemed like the only way I’d
be able to get that woman out of my face short of dialing 911, and I was about
to do it… say yes, that is. Not call the cops. But then that feisty little
brunette saved me.

Damn. Who is she? I know I haven’t seen
her around JLS before because there’s no way I would have missed those doe eyes
of hers.

Since Hannah came to live with me, I’ve
been too tired to even think about women. But when that brunette with the
bobbed hair locked eyes on me, I felt a fire in my groin that reminded me it’s
been ages since I’ve gotten laid.

Fatherhood is a bitch on the libido.

Still adjusting my tie, I jog back down
the staircase and out to the garage. Glancing through the window as I pull out of
my long driveway, I put the car back in park. It’s definitely a top-down day
now that the fog is breaking, I decide, touching the button that will show me
the blue sky I savor.

If I didn’t have work, I’d escape the confines
of this earth and spoil myself with a few hours in my Cessna TTx—or Amelia,
as my daughter christened it after Amelia Earhart. Aside from being a dad,
nothing brings me more joy than slicing through the clouds in Amelia as I soar in
my single-engine aircraft toward the horizon tens of thousands of feet above
the ground.

But not today. It’s business meetings and
conference calls on the agenda today, as well as a couple local site visits
where I might be able to at least stretch my legs.

When I arrive at JLS, I’m tempted to
scope out the parking lot and find the car that belongs to that woman. How many
silver Toyotas have a Starfleet Academy decal prominently displayed in their
back window?

But I don’t do it. Even if she happens to
be single, I really shouldn’t date an employee.

I slide my Jag into the reserved parking
space that awaits me next to the building, one of the perks of being CEO, I
guess. The other perk is that everyone always greets me with an efficient smile
when I step into our lobby, even if they’re not in the mood.

“Good morning, Mr. Sheridan,” the
receptionist chirps the same way she does to me every morning.

“Good morning, Maryanne,” I reply. My
voice is devoid of emotion. I don’t show my temper here or, God forbid, my
sense of humor. Here, I play a role that I’ve been taught since I was seventeen
years old—the year I gave up my aspirations and became the heir to the
empire.

The people who walk these halls don’t
know that I’ve got a punching bag in the back room of my office. They don’t
know I fly sick people to hospitals in my Cessna in my spare time, or that I
love sport fishing with my brothers in the Gulf every winter. And they sure as
hell don’t know that every day, without fail, after I kiss my daughter good
night, I spend the rest of my waking hours wondering if I’m the dad she needs
me to be.

No, they definitely wouldn’t guess that
one.

Here, I’m just the cold, decisive CEO. And
I tell myself I don’t mind because I understand the importance of JLS in my
family and in our town.

I nod to the office manager on my floor
when I arrive. I’m always tempted to ask her how her weekend was or whether she
caught the Bengals playing the other night, because I overheard that she likes
football. But I never do. My father and his father before him emphasized the
importance of drawing a sharp line between business and personal life. According
to Dad, being a leader means keeping yourself at enough distance from your
employees so that you can fire any one of them without remorse if necessary.

I guess it helped him sleep better at
night.

I almost smile at my assistant Deborah,
when I first spot her. She’s practically family after having worked for my dad
for eighteen years. I may be a heartless bastard at the negotiations table, but
I’m a bastard who never forgets to get Deborah a birthday present.

And, because she knows that appearances
are everything here on the executive floor at JLS, she never tells a soul.

“Morning, Mr. Sheridan,” she greets me.
“Your brother Logan is waiting for you inside your office.”

Shit.
“Did we have a meeting?”

“No. But he said he had something
important to discuss with you. I let him sit in your office, as you told me to,”
she adds. Logan just recently started working with me at JLS helping take some
of the load off my desk and allowing me more time to be a dad. I like the idea
of him making himself comfortable in my office, half because I fantasize about
him wanting to take the reins of this company himself.

It’ll never happen, though. Logan
separated from the Navy just over a year ago and still has too much of his SEAL
heritage coursing through his veins to ever accept the idea of being locked
behind a desk ten or twelve hours a day.

I take the coffee she hands me. It’s like
mother’s milk to me. “Thanks, Deborah.”

She nudges open my office door for me,
and I step in to Logan’s grinning face. The guy looks way too happy to be
working at JLS, in my opinion. And that’s 100% due to the woman in his life.

“About time you showed up, bro.”

I shoot him a look as I hear the door
click shut behind me. “So, fire me.
Please
.”

“Not bloody likely.”

“We didn’t have a meeting.”

“Nope. But I needed your input on
something.”

My stomach roils, and it has nothing to
do with the fact that I haven’t had breakfast yet. “You talked to Anderson.”

Logan raises his eyebrows questioningly. Obviously,
I guessed wrong.

“Anderson?” he asks.

“Oh. Guess not.” I sit at my desk, the
same desk my father sat at in the not-too-distant past. “Good. I’d be pissed if
he did the runaround and came to you about it.”

“About what?”

“He’s been up my ass about the
possibility of going public.”

“Seriously? He wants JLS to be offered up
in an IPO?”

“Yes. It’s my fault, really. I had him
contact some financial institutions back when I first got full custody of
Hannah. I was desperate, you know? Thought it might be the only way to take
some of the work off my hands.”

“So I take it there was interest?”

“Plenty. But now with you working here
and taking over a few things, I’m reluctant to pursue it. It would kill Dad,
Logan.”

“You have to live your own life, Ryan.”

My lips cinch tightly together. I wish he
had told me that over a decade ago, back when he broke free from the family
business to attend the U.S. Naval Academy, while I was stuck picking up the
pieces.

He leans back in his chair. “If you want
to do it, I won’t stand in your way. You know Dylan won’t either. You’d walk
away with enough cash to carry the next eight generations of your bloodline.”

“We all would.” I shrug. I’m rich
already. I have no need to get richer. “I can’t do that to Dad. Besides, what
if Hannah wants to carry on the company name one day? I’d never pressure her into
it like Dad did to us, but she might actually want it. Or your kids. Or
Dylan’s.”

Logan scoffs. “Dylan’s not going to have
kids. Nothing will ever nail that guy down. And I need to get married first.” Reaching
into his pocket, he pulls out a small velvet box. “First step is taken care
of.” He plunks it down, still firmly closed, on my desk.

“Oh, shit.
That’s
what you wanted
to talk to me about this morning?” I take the box and open it to see a rock that
could choke a mule staring at me. I plop it back on my desk.

Logan’s only been dating Allie a matter
of months, and if he was asking any other woman, there’s no way I’d sit by
silently and let him do it so quickly.
If
he were dating any other
woman.

“Hell, Logan. Allie will return that and
make you buy something more practical,” I tell him, laughing. It’s the truth. Allie
isn’t the type to be impressed by lavish diamonds. She’ll see that ring and
calculate how much dog food she could buy with it for the dog rescue organization
she runs. Her practicality is one of the things I like about her.

One of the
many
things I like
about her.

“You think? I thought I should go big, or
go home. You know the deal.”

I shrug. “Well, she loves you, if that’s
any merit. Think she’ll say yes?”

“Pretty certain. Thought I’d ask her on Sunday.
Dylan’s flying in Thursday to check out a couple locations for another one of
his gyms. So the whole family will be at Mom and Dad’s for dinner.”

I steeple my fingers and lay a firm gaze
on my brother. “Wait a minute. You’re going to ask her to marry you at a Sunday
dinner? With your
family
? Are you out of your mind?”

“You have a better idea?”

I lean back. “
Anyone
would have a
better idea than that. It should be something romantic. Just the two of you. Take
her to the BVI this weekend. Propose just as the sun sets over the Caribbean.”

“I don’t think she has her passport.”

I roll my eyes. “Then take her to St.
John. Or St. Croix. You don’t need a passport for the U.S. Virgin Islands. Hell,
a trip to Florida would be better than asking her at a family dinner. Mom’s
making meatloaf, for God’s sake.”

“I thought it would be nice. Family is
important to Allie.”

My lungs fill in a sigh. “Allie’s going
to look back on this moment for the rest of her life. This is a story she’ll be
telling her children and grandchildren. You don’t get a second shot at this. Make
it memorable for her. Make it romantic. She deserves it.” My throat knots
slightly at my words. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I am jealous of the love I
see between Logan and Allie. It’s something I never had with my ex-wife, even
when we were first married. I might have thought I had it briefly, before I
realized her eyes lit up more when she saw the numbers on our joint bank
account than when she looked at me.

I jot down the names of a couple resorts where
I had taken Adriana when we were married. “Here. Try these for starters. But
for God’s sake, make sure she gets her passport soon. The world is a big place.”