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The Black Sheep's Inheritance(17)

By:Maureen Child


"You want to learn to survive on the mountain."

"Yes." She bit her bottom lip.

"Fine," he said. "I'll teach you."

A wash of relief and something that felt like eager anticipation swept through her. "That's great, thank you."

He laughed shortly. "Save your thanks. By the time we're finished, you'll probably be cursing me."

"No, I won't." She shook her head and reached across the table to cover  one of his hands with hers. "J.D. always told me how kind you were and  I've really seen that for myself in the past few days."

He just stared at her through eyes that had been carefully shuttered. "J.D. was wrong. I'm not kind, Colleen."

His features were hard, his body language cold. He was pulling back  from her even while he was within reach. She didn't know why. "If it's  not kindness," she asked quietly, "what is it?"

He just looked at her for a long moment and she had the feeling he was  trying to decide whether to answer her or not. Then she got her answer.

"You said you don't have a job to go to anymore, right?"

"No, I don't. I turned in my resignation at the agency." And hadn't  that felt incredible? She had liked her job well enough, but now that  her dream was within her reach, she didn't mind at all saying goodbye to  the private agency. "Until I get my practitioner's license, I'm  officially unemployed."

"All right then," he said, coming to some internal decision. "We'll  start day after tomorrow. You come up to my ranch and stay for a few  days. We'll go up the mountain from there."                       
       
           



       

"Stay? At your ranch?" Heat sizzled through her veins, and even while a  delicious tingle settled deep inside her, Colleen felt a tiny niggle of  worry.

He was going to teach her to survive in the mountains. But who could  teach her how to survive a broken heart when this time with him was  over?

* * *

Logan Whittaker was handsome, friendly and professional. Late thirties,  he was tall, with nearly black hair, warm brown eyes and when he  smiled, a disarming pair of dimples appeared in his cheeks. He wore a  sports coat over a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt,  black cowboy boots betraying his Texas heritage.

As a partner at Drake, Alcott and Whittaker, he was able to meet with  Colleen the next morning, when Walter Drake was busy elsewhere.

She walked into his office and took a quick, admiring look around. The  room was huge, befitting a partner. Neutral colors, with navy blue  accents, including a navy blue sofa and matching visitor chairs situated  on one side of his massive desk. There was a blue-and-white-tiled  fireplace on one wall with an empty mantel over it. No family pictures  to clutter up his office.

The windows along the hallway boasted electric shades that were in a  halfway-down position. It was all very businesslike but hospitable, much  like Logan himself seemed to be.

"I really appreciate you seeing me on such short notice."

"Not a problem," Logan said, stepping forward to take her hand in a  firm shake before steering her toward one of the visitor's chairs.  "Walter and I are sort of working a tag team on the Lassiter will. We're  each dealing with different angles, and sometimes the lines cross."

She had to smile. The slight hint of a Texas accent flavored his  speech, but couldn't hide the fact that he seemed agitated and a little  harried. "Having some trouble with J.D.'s will?"

He blew out a breath, took a seat in his chair behind the wide desk and  then shot her a heart-stopping grin. "Is it that obvious?" A short  laugh rumbled from his throat as he shook his head. "Let's just say  there are some issues with the estate that I'm not at liberty to discuss  and leave it at that."

"Well, that sounds frustrating."

"Oh, it is." He pushed one hand through his hair and said, "But I'll get it done."

The look in his eyes was sheer determination, and Colleen didn't doubt for a minute that he would succeed.

"Now, how can I help you, Ms. Falkner?"

"Colleen, please." She scooted forward to the edge of the leather chair  and leaned her forearm on his desk. "Walter helped me set up a line of  credit at a local bank, but-"

"What is it?" He gave her his full attention, and Colleen thought at  any other time, she might have been mesmerized by his eyes. The man was  exceptionally good-looking and when he looked at a woman with his  complete concentration, she could only assume that most women melted  into a puddle at his feet. As it stood now, though, Logan Whittaker, as  handsome and compelling as he was, couldn't hold a candle to Sage  Lassiter.

Letting go of that train of thought, she brought herself back to the business at hand. The reason she'd come here.

"I really just wanted to make sure everything is going through without  any trouble." Shrugging, she added, "I'm about to sell my condo so I can  buy something closer to where I will be working, and-"

He gave her a knowing smile. "And you're worried that something might go wrong with the dispersal of the will."

"Exactly." It was nice that he understood her concerns and didn't make her feel silly for having them.

"You have nothing to worry about," Logan told her. "J.D. set this will  up in such a way that it would be almost impossible to contest it."

"Almost?"

He grinned. "Caught that, did you?"

"I did, and it's a little scary to think about. If someone contested the will, all of the bequests might be nullified, right?"

"It's possible, yes," he admitted, then leaned back in his oversize  leather swivel chair. "But highly unlikely. J.D. was competent when he  made his will. And it was his estate to divide how he saw fit. I know  some of the family are upset with what that will said, but there's not  much they can do about it. So to answer your question, I don't see any  problems looming. Go ahead and sell your place. Buy the one you want."

Colleen released a breath she really hadn't been aware she was holding.  Somehow she felt even more reassured than she had when talking to  Walter. Maybe it was because the older lawyer tended to speak more in  legal terms, and Logan made the process seem less confusing. "Thanks. I  feel better."                       
       
           



       

"Happy to help," Logan said, rising to come around his desk. "I know  this must be strange, suddenly coming into so much money. But it's all  real, Colleen. You can trust it."

She stood up and offered her hand. This was what she'd needed to hear:  the confirmation that her new life was about to begin. For some reason,  she'd been half expecting someone to pull the rug out from under her and  leave her sprawled, broken and bruised, on the floor. Metaphorically  speaking, of course.

Now though, she would reach out and grab hold-with both hands-of the changes headed her way.

Logan walked her to his door and smiled. "Try to relax and enjoy all of this, Colleen. J.D. clearly wanted that for you."

"I think he did," Colleen agreed as she shook Logan's hand one last time. "I really appreciate your time."

"If you have any more worries, feel free to come back."

But she wouldn't be worried now. At least not about the bequest.  Instead, she would worry about Sage Lassiter and how important he was  becoming to her. When just the thought of his name sent an electrical  charge buzzing through her, she knew she had plenty to worry about.





     Seven

"Wow," Jenna chirped later that day. "According to Google, Sage  Lassiter is worth about ten billion dollars." She glanced up from the  laptop and fanned herself with one hand. "I mean I knew he was  rich...but that is seriously rich."

The two of them were in Colleen's bedroom at her condo. The room was  small but neat, with cream-colored walls, a bright quilt on the bed and  dozens of jewel-toned pillows stacked against the headboard. Colleen  looked at her friend, sitting cross-legged on her bed. "You're supposed  to be checking real estate on the mountain for me."

"I am, on another webpage," Jenna said with a shrug. "But I can  multitask. Besides, I had to look him up. You're going to stay at his  ranch for a few days and I want to see what my friend's getting into.  You know, I bet there are rich serial killers, too."

Laughing, Colleen said, "He's not a serial killer."

"No harm in checking," Jenna told her. "So, according to this website  that is all gossip all the time, Sage made his first million by  investing in some thingamajig for computers that his college roommate  invented."