Terms of Surrender Read online

  Her face softened. "I did it because I loved him."

  "He cared for you, as well." David watched her thoughtfully. "His last words to me were about you."

  "They were?" Surprise widened her expressive eyes. That his father had spoken of her warmed her heart.

  "What did he say?"

  For a moment he remained silent, almost as if he'd rather not reveal their conversation. "He made me promise to take care of you."

  "What?" Stunned, she stared at him. David taking care of her. What a laugh. He didn't even like her.

  "I promised him I would." He hesitated, then went on, "So, I don't want you to think that I'm going to just turn you out with nowhere to go. I've been thinking that since you never had the opportunity, it might be a good idea for you to go to college. I'll provide you with an expense account."

  It took a moment for Tanya to absorb his words. When she did, her heart began to pound. "College?" Seconds later, her surprise gave way to anger. "I can't believe you. Your father isn't even cold in his grave and you're throwing me out?"

  David shook his head. "I'm not throwing—"

  "You heartless bastard. Now I know exactly why you and your father didn't get along."

  Anger flashed in his eyes. "You don't know anything about me."

  "I know you broke his heart when you left." She snatched a photo of David when he'd graduated from college off a nearby table. "I know that some days he sat in this very room and stared at your picture. I know that rarely a week went by that he didn't mention you in some way." Replacing the picture, she confronted him. "And now I know just how coldhearted you are."

  Tanya started around him, then stopped. "Let me ask you something, David. In all honesty, what do you know about this plantation? You haven't been back for years. For that matter, what do you know about growing soybeans?" Her eyes stayed on his, watching his expression change to confusion.

  "Soybeans?"

  "Yes, soybeans. Your father changed the main crop from peanuts to soybeans several years ago." She gave a bitter laugh. "You didn't know? Well, of course not. Because you didn't care enough about this plantation to keep up with the changes. I know a lot more about this farm than you do."

  As much as David hated to admit it, she was right. He hadn't been back since the summer he'd graduated from college. He'd barely stayed in touch by telephone. "Why did my father stop growing peanuts?" Unable to believe what she was saying, he looked out the window as if he could tell with a glance that she was speaking the truth.

  "What difference does that make? Right now you need me."

  David gave his head a shake, trying to make sense of what she'd said. "All right, if what you say is true, I'll admit you have a point." But that didn't mean he trusted her. "We'll try this on a trial basis. You stay for, say, three months. If you can't run the place, you'll agree I'm right and leave. At that time, my offer to send you to college will still stand." It seemed like the perfect solution. No matter what she said, there was no way that Tanya could run this place.

  Tanya's gaze never left his. If he thought she was going to fail, he'd be sadly mistaken. "I'll take you up on that." With that, she turned to walk away, but was drawn up short when David's hand clamped around her arm. "Take your hand off me."

  He complied immediately. "We're not finished."

  "For now, we are. If you don't mind, I've had all I can take of you today." She continued to the door and yanked it open.

  "Tanya—" he called, but she stormed out. The door slammed behind her.

  Well, great. Now look what you've done.

  And soybeans? What was that about? Why had his father changed from peanuts, a crop he'd grown all of his life, to soybeans? It didn't make sense.

  David walked over and poured himself a bourbon. He stared at the amber liquid, then threw it down his throat, savoring the burn. Maybe he was a bastard. He hadn't meant to make Tanya feel as if she had to leave Cottonwood immediately. The strange thing was, a foolish part of him wanted her to stay. But if she stayed, David knew she'd get under his skin.

  For the sake of his heart, he could never let that happen.

  * * *

  A cold chill swept over her, but Tanya knew it had nothing to do with the temperature of the November morning. Out of the corner of her eye she watched David, who sat across the room. His father's attorney was seated behind the large, antique desk across from them in Edward's study. He'd only been gone a few days, and here they were, waiting for the reading of his will.

  Oh, how she missed him. Tears formed in her eyes as she thought of never seeing Edward again. Fear gripped her. Once again, she was all alone in the world.

  Though David had remained at the plantation, she'd managed to avoid being alone with him. Their earlier confrontation had cemented her opinion that he had been cold and unfeeling when it came to his father. As for his opinion of her, he'd pretty much made it clear that he didn't want her at Cottonwood. To his credit, he had tried to apologize, but nothing he said could have erased his hurtful words.

  "If I could have your attention," Clifford Danson said as he looked up from the papers in his hand. He waited until both David and Tanya met his gaze. "David, your father asked that you both be present because the terms of the will affect each of you."

  Uneasy, Tanya glanced at David. She hadn't expected to be mentioned in the will. Her eyes began to sting with fresh tears.

  "As his only son, you stand to inherit this entire estate," the lawyer continued. "I'm aware that the two of you didn't get along, but your father believed that Cottonwood is your birthright. He felt deeply that you should receive it."

  David nodded. If he was surprised or pleased, he didn't show it. He should be happy, Tanya thought. He was getting what he wanted. She was the one who was going to have to leave.

  Mr. Danson looked at Tanya. "He cared very deeply for you, as well, young lady."

  Trying not to cry, Tanya blinked. "I know, but I don't understand why I'm even here." She didn't look at David. She couldn't, not without feeling a rush of resentment and disappointment in him. And in spite of that, she had to deal with her damned attraction to him. It was insulting just to think about.

  "I'm getting to that," the lawyer promised. "As I said, David, you stand to inherit the entire estate. However, there's a stipulation that involves Miss Winters." He glanced from one to the other, his face somber as his gaze paused on David. "Keep in mind that these were his wishes, and he was very specific about them. In order to inherit Cottonwood Plantation, you must live here—"

  "What?" David came to his feet.

  Danson held up his hand, staving further comment. "There's more. He's also stipulated that, in addition, Miss Winters is to be kept on as the manager for as long as she desires."

  * * *

  Two

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  "This is ridiculous! Hell, it's not even feasible!" David slammed his hands flat on his father's desk, confronting Clifford Danson. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I have a business in Atlanta to run. My life is there. I can't live here."

  The lawyer lowered his reading glasses to the edge of his nose as he shook his head, the look in his eyes indicating that he understood the dilemma but was powerless to help solve it. "I'm sorry," he apologized, as if the situation were somehow his fault. "The terms of the will are spelled out in very specific language. In order to receive your inheritance, you must live here. That's not negotiable."

  Straightening, David looked around, then again leveled his gaze on the older man. "How long?"

  "For the term of one full year."

  "A year," he repeated with disgust. His hands went to his hips. "And if I don't agree to these ludicrous terms?"

  "You'll forfeit everything."

  The room fell into deafening silence. David's attention shifted to Tanya. Every nerve ending in his body came alive as he looked at her. Her eyes were wide with what he construed to be shock, her lips nearly white. The reading of the will had staggered her, as well. />
  Or had it? his mind taunted. Had Tanya been manipulating Edward, waiting for his demise, so she could benefit from his illness? Though his body seemed to respond to her on a million levels, he didn't really know her, did he? Was she capable of such deceit? When he'd pressed her about her relationship with his father, she'd unequivocally denied anything intimate. But that didn't mean that she wasn't after his father's money.

  More determined than ever to find out, he turned his attention back to the lawyer. "If I don't accept these terms, what happens to Cottonwood?"

  Danson cleared his throat. He picked up the will and flipped a few pages. "Pursuant to the terms of the will," he began reading verbatim from the document, "the aforementioned—"

  "Skip the jargon and get to the point," David demanded.

  "All right." The lawyer dropped the papers to the desk. "In the event that you decide not to make Cottonwood your permanent home for one year, Miss Winters will inherit the entire estate."

  "What?" Tanya gasped. David whirled to face her, his expression furious. "I had no idea that Edward had done this," Tanya blurted out, floored by the terms of the will. David was staring at her as if she were the devil. And why not? What had Edward been thinking when he'd instructed his lawyer to make such a crazy stipulation? "I love my job and I want to continue working here, but the plantation belongs to you. No matter what's written in the will."

  "Now if Tanya decides to leave on her own accord, you'll inherit free and clear." The lawyer gathered the legal documents in front of him, stuffed them into his briefcase, then stood and walked around the desk. "That's pretty much the extent of the terms. I've left a copy of the will for you to read." He shook hands with David.

  Turning to Tanya, his expression gentled as he took her hand in his and held it a moment before letting go. "Let me know if I can do anything for you. Edward was very insistent that he didn't want you to worry about anything. Please contact me when you've made your decisions. I'll see myself out."

  Tanya watched the lawyer leave, then flinched when she met David's hard stare. She could imagine how he felt, and despite the fact that he didn't seem to trust her, her heart went out to him. Edward had put them both in quite a predicament. "David, I'm telling you the truth. I didn't know a thing about your father's intentions."

  "Really?" he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

  His scathing look sent a chill down her spine. "I swear I didn't." Hurt radiated through her entire body. That he thought her capable of… She couldn't even finish the thought.

  Her heart pounding, she got to her feet, then realized too late that she was shaking so hard, she could barely hold her own weight. Leaning against the chair for support, she faced him.

  "I guess the old man got the last laugh, after all, didn't he?" David shook his head. He'd been delusional to believe that he had made any kind of peace with his father. If he accepted the terms of the will, he'd be strapped to the plantation, unable to return to Atlanta.

  "I don't think Edward was purposefully trying to hurt you," she answered, not really understanding his comment. It was difficult for her to believe that the man she knew and loved had inflicted the pain in David's eyes.

  "You don't know what you're talking about."

  She groped for an explanation. "There were days he wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe he wasn't in his right mind when he made those stipulations."

  "If that were the case, Danson would have never had the document drawn up." Clifford Danson had been his father's lawyer for many years. David was sure the man wouldn't have done anything he deemed unethical, not even for a longtime friend.

  "Still, your father must have believed he was looking out for your best interest."

  "It seems to me that he had your best interest in mind," he grated.

  "I know it looks like that, but—"

  "Looks like it?" His shoulders visibly tightened. "At the very least, you have a job until you no longer want it." There went his plans for sending her away. Which was going to play hell with his libido. He didn't need Tanya around, didn't want to be reminded of his attraction to her.

  Or allow it room to grow.

  Tanya tilted her head, lifting her chin a notch. "I'm not going to pretend that I'm not relieved I have a job and a place to live," she admitted, remembering his plans to send her away. Maybe that's what Edward had been afraid of, that David wouldn't keep the plantation—that he'd sell it.

  "Now, why doesn't that surprise me?" David suspected, now that she'd been given a choice, she wasn't ever going to leave. He had no alternative but to keep her on as the plantation manager. Which also meant that he would have to stay. The farm had permanent employees, people who depended on their jobs to make a living. It was now his responsibility to be sure they had a secure future. He didn't know what Tanya had been doing with the finances, and until he did, he wasn't prepared to trust her.

  He moved closer, stopping only inches from her. "But don't think for a minute that I'm going to walk away from here and leave everything to you." The plantation was his heritage, not Tanya's. Maybe he hadn't been around for years. But his absence didn't mean that he didn't care about his legacy. His father was the reason he'd left. He grimaced at the irony of the situation. His father was also the reason he'd returned and was being forced to stay.

  "I'm not expecting you to," she told him, her tone cool. Despite what Edward had written in his will, the plantation belonged to David, not her. She was thankful that she wasn't homeless, but she wasn't going to apologize for her close relationship with his father.

  "Really?" He eyed her with speculation. "You're prepared to live here with me?"

  Tanya gulped. Live there with David? That thought made all of her girlish dreams of him come back to her in a rush.

  Stop it! Don't let your heart get involved. Unlike you, he considers himself trapped. He doesn't want to live here, with or without you.

  "Yes," she answered, determined to get along with him. How hard could living in the same house be, after all? It was a big house. Huge, even. They'd sleep in separate bedrooms. And once planting season arrived, with all the work to be done, they probably wouldn't even share meals. David wouldn't be there all of the time. He'd have to leave at some time or another on business, wouldn't he?

  "I guess it's settled, then." David wanted to look away, but instead found his gaze sliding from her perfectly poised face to her sleek, enticing neck. Her creamy skin begged to be touched, and it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself, which brought another thought to mind.

  If he and Tanya both lived at the plantation, how was he going to control his attraction to her? Hell, even after the lawyer had dropped his bombshell, even when David should have been feeling nothing but indignation and resentment, he was drawn to her.

  The last thing he wanted was to become involved with Tanya. Melanie had made him wary of his judgment when it came to women. Finding out she had just been using him had been a blessing in disguise.

  He'd been humiliated, played for a fool. Since his disastrous relationship with Melanie, he'd done a good job of keeping his distance from any woman who wanted more than a night or two of pleasure. There was no way he was going to let Tanya get under his skin. He'd use the time that he had to be around her to become immune to her. And when the sentence his father had imposed upon him by requiring him to live on the plantation for a year was up, he'd return to his life in Atlanta.

  By then, Tanya Winters would be completely out of his system.

  * * *

  Though David had planned on going over the accounts of the plantation first thing the next morning, he'd received a call from his friend and vice president, Justin West, about Taylor Corp.'s latest acquisition, a Japanese computer software company. Upon hearing of his father's illness, he'd been forced to leave during final negotiations. David had made his apologies and had put Justin in charge, confident that he could close the deal.

  Still, there had been a couple of key issues to discuss this morning that
neither of them had anticipated, and it had taken more time than David had realized. Once he was done, he'd called Jessica, his personal assistant, and put the wheels in motion to turn his father's study into a satellite office so he would be able to handle much of his firm's business from the plantation.

  Looking up from the work he'd retrieved from his briefcase, David's gaze swept his father's study, taking in his large book collection on shelving that covered one entire wall. Struck with a feeling of disorientation, he sat back and stared at the many volumes, perfectly categorized and alphabetized. And looking as if they'd never been read. As a child, he'd never been allowed to touch them.

  Now they're yours.

  His chest tightened a fraction as he got to his feet and walked across the room, stopping in front of the massive wall of books. Scanning the titles, his gaze stopped on an original edition of poems. He hadn't known his father had liked poetry. The sad truth was that he hadn't known his father at all.

  That wasn't your fault.

  Maybe it was, David thought in the still silence. Tanya certainly thought it was. If he'd been the kind of son his father had wanted, he'd have swallowed his pride and stayed on the plantation. Maybe then he would have known the man.

  It wouldn't have changed anything.

  Sadly, he believed that was true. When his mother was alive, they'd been like a family. David could remember, as a boy, tossing a ball around with his father, laughing as they played.

  When Eloise Taylor had died, everything had changed. David had become a detail to deal with, rather than a son to love. He hadn't understood then. He still didn't. But he'd quickly learned that his father hadn't wanted or needed his love.

  Replacing the book, he glanced around. No, it wouldn't have made a difference if he'd stayed. He would have been suffocated by his father's strong will, with neither of them being happy in the end. Edward would never have allowed him to make any decisions concerning the farm or its business. When he'd returned home from college, he had approached his father about updating the plantation's equipment. Edward hadn't even given his reasons for change consideration.