Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(2)

Why is he staring at me like that?

“I'm Liam Johnson. Executive Vice President,” he said.

He took her hand in his, enveloping it completely. Unlike many men shaking a woman's hand, he exerted genuine pressure—as though he expected she was strong enough to take it, or didn't care if she wasn’t. She squeezed back as hard as she could, secretly disappointed he didn’t flinch, then pulled free.

He must have skipped the gathering at Ellen’s house, just as Bev and her mother had. To go running, apparently, from the looks of him—unlike Bev, who’d been eating a cheeseburger.

“So, you’re the granddaughter,” he said. “Our new owner. What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

The sarcasm in his voice made her stand up to her full five-foot-ten. She hadn't expected a warm welcome, but the depth of hostility was a surprise. He was probably one her aunt’s allies. “I didn’t know about his will until the day before yesterday.”

“But you knew you had a grandfather. Funny I never saw you before now.”

Her lips were tight over her teeth, holding up the smile she didn’t feel. “Perhaps you could help me find Richard so I can get on my way. I have a flight in a few hours.”

That surprised him. He frowned. “Today? Where are you going?”

“Orange County. I need to get home.”

For a long moment he just stared. Then a corner of his mouth twisted. “Of course. Death can be such an inconvenience.”

A chill settled over her. She studied him closer, trying to remember more of what she'd heard from her aunt that morning about the staff at the company. He must be the guy who grew up next door to her grandfather in Oakland. The protégé. Her grandfather’s death must have been a shock to him. “You're the swimmer, aren't you? He hired you right after the Olympics.”

“I'm surprised you would know anything about what he did.”

Ah. That was it. “It's true we weren't close,” she said. “But you were, weren't you?”

His jaw hardened. He shrugged.

“I'd love to hear anything about him you might like to share,” she said. “Our branch of the family has been kind of estranged for a while.”

“Oh?” A lot of unforgiving ice packed into one word.

“Since before I was born,” she added. So lay off, dude.

“Your loss.”

Bev looked past him to one of the doors along the far wall, nodding in agreement. She’d done her best to chat with her infamous aunt Ellen over the past couple of days, but her mother still wasn’t talking to her—her only sibling—after thirty years. Not even at the funeral. It wasn’t right.

“Perhaps we could continue this inside.” She looked down at his exercise clothes with a raised eyebrow. “Unless you’re too busy.”

Smoothing the tank top over his chest, the thin fabric clinging to sweat and muscle like synthetic skin, he began to walk towards a doorway. “The administrative offices are back here.”

“Great. Thank you.” She waved at the receptionist, but the young woman sat petrified and stared at Liam without blinking. No doubt the sporty ice cube was a difficult boss.

He led her down a narrow, carpeted passageway with offices on one side, most of them empty. The shabby carpeting was brown with tan stripes worn down the middle from the tread of human feet. Pausing in a doorway, he looked over his shoulder at her. “I mistook you for Ellen at first. I thought she might have dropped her phone behind the chair.”

Bev walked faster to catch up. “Some people say I look like her, but I think it's just the black hair.” Aunt Ellen had the same pale skin too, but their features were nothing alike. Ellen had a cold beauty Bev was happy to live without. It put people on edge, demanded attention, caused trouble.

He ushered her into a dark room, slapping the wall to turn on the lights. She was trapped inside with him. His gaze fell down her body. “You’re right. I don't know what I was thinking.”

She was annoyed with herself for feeling insulted. She lifted her chin and looked past him into the windowless office, noting floor-to-ceiling metal grids bolted to the walls holding up clothes and white foam presentation boards, sketches, magazines. “This isn’t Richard’s office, is it?”

“It’s mine.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the sheen of perspiration still visible on his skin.

“I need to talk to Richard.”

“He's not nearly as important around here as I am.” He walked over to his desk and sat behind it. “Talk to me.”

She snorted. “I'm sure you are very important, Liam. Nevertheless—”

“You don't understand. Richard is just an accountant.”

“And you don't understand. He has papers for me to sign.”

Liam froze. His eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn’t read. “Papers.” His voice dropped. “What papers?”

Uncomfortable with the visible clenching of his classic jaw, she considered fleeing back to the lobby, but as a top executive he probably deserved to hear it from her. She sank down to the edge of a chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Ellen had them prepare some legal stuff to cut me loose. Right now you guys need my permission for everything.”