“Aw, yeah, the rebel who was sent to reform school.”
That was another thing that connected their families and not a subject she’d intended to bring up. “I would like to speak to you about—”
“Buying my land? It’s not for sale.”
And then he was gone, disappeared behind the fence.
She would not let him get away that easily. He’d not only walked away without an explanation years ago, he’d returned her letter of apology unread. This time he’d hear her out.
The snow crunched beneath her shoes as she stepped off the porch and was deeper than the low sides of her kitten-heeled black pumps, but she kept walking. She reached the gate and gave it a push. Then a second push, much harder. The snow on the other side gave way and she nearly fell through the opening. Catching herself, she let out a growl. “If you—”
“I said it’s not for sale.”
This time he disappeared around the house. Her pumps were already snow packed, so she moved forward, stepping in his footprints as much as possible.
Rounding the corner of the house, she spied a concrete slab completely clear of snow and made her way to it. Her nylons were soaked through and her toes were becoming ice cubes. Shivering, she stood on one foot, emptied one shoe and then repeated the process with the other shoe.
“They’re just going to get full again when you make your way back out the gate.”
She would not let him affect her, in any way, and let her gaze start at his feet, which were covered with leather boots, before working upward. His pants were dark blue denim, cuffs rolled. The material hugged his thighs and hips. The jeans met a brown leather jacket that was zipped halfway up his chest, and the collar was turned up around the back of his neck. When her gaze met his, it took nearly all she had to keep it there, chin up. She wasn’t sixteen and would not let her nerves get the best of her.
She had to get that land. Prove she was not only fully capable, but that nothing would get in her way from running Air America.
He was the first to look away, and that gave her an ounce of triumph. Something she needed greatly. Using it, she started, “The taxes alone on your prop—”
“Are none of your business. The land—”
“Isn’t for sale.” Holding up a hand, she continued. “You already said that. However, I would appreciate it if you’d let me get a complete sentence out before you interrupt.”
He folded his arms across his chest.
“You are aware that your parcel of property is something Air America has been interested in purchasing, and I understand, from what you just said, that you are not interested in selling it.”
He didn’t so much as twitch.
She, however, was shivering from head to toe. Both from the cold and from being face-to-face with him. The dreams she’d had years ago kept trying to flash forward. Of her and him riding on his motorcycle, burning rubber in his hot-rod car and kissing. Blast it all, but that dream was stronger right now than ever. To the point it made her throat go dry. He’d matured. Was even better-looking, and the things she’d felt for him years ago were taking sprout all over again.
That couldn’t be. Gathering her thoughts, she reminded herself that she had to get that land, despite all obstacles. Including those deep inside her. “I believe we could still come to an agreement, or arrangement of sorts, if you would give me the opportunity to explain.”
Of all the people in the world who could have shown up on his front porch, Randi Osterlund was the last one Jason would have imagined. Well, he might have imagined it, but that would have been a fantasy. However, she was the last person he would ever make any sort of agreement or arrangement with in this lifetime. What was her father thinking, sending her over here to talk to him? Randal Osterlund was not the kind of man who would use his daughter—Jason’s thought stopped right there.
“Does your father know you’re here?”
Her entire body seemed to slump, but only for a moment before she caught herself and straightened her spine.
Bingo. Her father didn’t know.
With her pert little chin lifted high, she said, “I am employed by Air America and have full authority to conduct business in their name and—”
He waved toward the fence as he walked over to collect the shovel and pail he’d left by the tree when he’d heard a car pull into the driveway. “You know where the gate is.” She might claim to be employed by Air America, but there was more to it than that. She was an heir to Air America, and a multimillion-dollar lingerie company that her mother owned, JO’s Dream Wear. Besides her mother, Randi Osterlund was one of, if not the, richest women in Chicago. He’d learned his lesson when it came to her years ago and didn’t need a repeat. That was one thing his father had been right about. Thinking he would have ever had a chance with a girl like her had been stupid. Very, very stupid.
“Do you ever let someone finish a sentence?” she asked.
“I let you finish several.” That had been a mistake. But not his first one. That had been speaking to her when she’d been preening on his front porch. As soon as he’d seen her climb out of her car, he’d known it was her. Other women may have chestnut hair like her, thick and long, but no one had the same shade of eyes. A pale blue, that captured and held attention. He should have kept his mouth shut, let her knock and believe he wasn’t home. She would have left, but he’d opened his mouth and now she was standing on his back porch instead of his front one. He’d managed to steer clear of her for years and needed to continue to do so for the rest of his life.
He picked up the shovel, scooped a pile off the ground and dropped it in the bucket.
“Why are you shoveling snow into a bucket?”
