Homecoming by Elizabeth Jennings Page A

gorgeous, thoroughly masculine hands, but just hands , for heaven’s sake!
    She was here for business. Just business. She had to remember that.
    Actually, she should be steering the conversation around to the sale of Harry’s Folly. She should be angling for an appointment with the Town Council. It wouldn’t be hard. The Carson’s Bluff Town Council was right here with her, sitting around a picnic table, guzzling beer.
    She tried to concentrate on the sale, then Jack’s thigh brushed hers, and her thoughts melted and slid warmly down her spine to pool in her middle.
    “No, they aren’t planning on expanding,” Norman said, and for a moment Federica wondered what he was talking about. Then she remembered she’d asked a question. “Just the opposite, in fact.” He carefully cut around the charred part of the potato casserole. “That’s the problem. They’ve had an exceptional year, too much work to handle comfortably with current staff levels, and they want a plan to scale down without losing market share.” He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and his eyes lost their focus. “Non-growth is a tricky problem, because there are a lot of things you have to factor in, like client weight, pluri-annual contracts as opposed to jobbing…”
    “Norman,” Lilly said gently.
    “And of course, advertising has to be scaled accordingly and very carefully placed—”
    “Norman—”
    “—and you have to watch your quarterly estimates and calculate FICA—”
    “ Norman !”
    “ What?” He sounded aggrieved.
    “Work time is over , Norman.”
    He sighed and pushed his plate away.
    “Have you always been a freelancer?” Federica asked.
    Norman grimaced. “No. I used to be a vice president at Longthorn, Pace and Feldstein.” He took a long swallow of Pigswill. “In a previous life.”
    “They keep our accounts,” Federica said, startled. Longthorn, Pace and Feldstein was one of the largest accountancy firms in the state and far and away the best. It was also known for its shark-like accounting practices and for walking the finest line possible between clever bookkeeping and tax evasion. Which was why, Federica thought uncomfortably, it kept Mansion Enterprises’ books.
    The firm was also famous for treating its employees like the pharoahs treated the workers on the pyramids. “I know Longthorn, Pace and Feldstein very well. If you were a vice president, you must have worked sixty-hour weeks.” It was hard to square that with Norman’s present lifestyle.
    “Seventy-hour weeks, actually. I had one heart attack and was barreling straight into my second when I met Lilly.” He reached for his wife’s hand and smiled into her eyes. “Best thing that ever happened to me. Saved my life in more ways than one.” Norman looked around the table. “Of course, the downside to that is that my wife comes with a couple of flatliners for brothers, but what the hell. Her folks are nice and it’s not that big a price to pay.”
    “I’ll drink to that.” Wyatt was grinning as he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of wine glasses. He set the tray down and uncorked the bottle of wine, deftly filling the glasses. “Here’s to Dad. Long may he vint, if that’s the word I want.”
    Jack handed Federica a glass and watched with a smile as she sniffed, then took a sip.
    Federica rolled the wine around her tongue and swallowed. She took another sip and closed her eyes in delight. It was like tasting sunlight. The wine was a full-bodied red, with a very faint fruity aftertaste, and it went down like a dream. Federica opened her eyes to find everyone watching her.
    “So what do you think?” Jack’s eyes bored into hers. Against his deep suntan, the electric blue of his eyes was startling. An incredible blue. The bluest blue this side of—
    “Heaven,” she said without thinking. And blushed.
    “Dad laid this down the year Norman and Lilly got married.” Wyatt pushed back a shock of blond hair and Federica was