“We’re spending Saturday together.” She held her breath, wondering whether he’d remember what Saturday was, but the significance of the day eluded him.
“Good,” he said. “Well then, I’ll talk with you when I get back.”
“Fine.”
“Bye, Savannah.”
She nodded. He had already hung up.
Quietly, she replaced the receiver, then bowed her head and lightly massaged her temples. She always looked forward to her father’s calls, and she was always disappointed afterward. She knew he could be a charmer. What she didn’t know was why he never charmed his daughters. He reserved a sharp tongue and a critical eye for them, and lately, whether because of age or sheer orneriness, he had been worse than ever.
She could take it. She had her own life and her own rewards. But she worried for Susan.
Sensing a presence nearby, she raised her head and immediately caught her breath. Jared Snow stood at the door, exuding quiet confidence and staunch maleness. The confidence was like a welcome balm; the maleness sparked a sweet curling in her belly.
He tossed his head back toward the spot where her secretary normally sat, and said in a deep, sandy voice, “She must be on coffee break. Am I interrupting anything?”
Savannah managed a wispy laugh. “Yes. A mammoth headache. Come in. Please. And close the door. If any of the ladies out there hear you speak, they’re apt to start a stampede.”
He cleared the threshold and closed the door. His eyes held hers with warm probing. “What’s the headache from?”
Normally, she would have shrugged and left her personal problems behind. But when it came to Jared Snow, nothing she felt was quite normal. He could penetrate her professional veneer with one look. “My dad. He’s a difficult man.”
“Does he live around here?”
“In Newport.”
Jared acknowledged the significance of that with a quirk of his brow. “Close enough to make his presence felt.”
“Actually, I don’t see him often.”
“But he calls.”
She sighed. “Oh, yes.” She wondered if Jared had a similar situation with one of his parents. He looked sympathetic.
“How old is he?”
“Sixty-eight.”
“Does he live alone?”
“He has a housekeeper and frequent houseguests, so he’s not lonely.”
“Is he ill?”
“Thank goodness, no. Health has never been a problem. He leads as active a life as ever.” She paused.
“But?”
Still, she paused. Then, with an added look of encouragement from Jared which destroyed any reticence she might have had, she said, “But he’s extremely demanding in his way. He expects that we should do just what he does, which is not much of anything—by my standards, at least.”
She stopped for an instant, feeling as disloyal as her father had accused her of being. But she desperately needed to talk. “He takes pride in being one of the idle rich. I had to be something else. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for that. Susan has tried to be Newport, but it’s not working for her. On the one hand, I want to stand up and cheer, but she doesn’t have an alternative like I do, so she’s floundering.”
“Is she married?”
“Divorced, with no kids.”
“So she lacks direction.”
