The Tempted

“Is there anything else I can get you, Mr. Spencer?”

“Not at the moment.” He looked up from the newspaper and smiled. “I’m still just trying to get my bearings.”

“You’ll do fine,” she said in a motherly tone. She paused at the door on her way out and glanced back into the office. “It will be strange, though, without him.”

That was an understatement, Jared thought, sorting through his messages. He still hadn’t gotten over the shock of his father’s sudden death. He kept expecting to look up and see Davis Spencer stroll through the double office doors, demanding to know what the hell Jared was doing sitting behind his desk.

Jared’s father had died four weeks ago from a massive coronary that had taken everyone who knew him by surprise. Jared had always thought his father would live forever. He was too stubborn, too powerful, too manipulative to do otherwise, but in the end, he’d been just an ordinary mortal, succumbing to an all-too-human frailty.

And so Jared had been summoned back to the corporate office in Jackson after a six-year stint in New Orleans, where he’d overseen extensive renovations to the grand old Spencer Hotel on Royal Street. The Jackson Spencer, opened at the turn of the century, was the flagship of an elegant fleet of four hotels scattered throughout the South, but the New Orleans Spencer, established some thirty years later, was the most famous, a crown jewel shimmering with old-world ambience and charm in the heart of the Vieux Carré.

The assignment to restore the hotel to its former grandeur had been both challenging and grueling, but it had also been a good place for Jared to make his mark. He’d earned a lot of respect and accolades from his peers over the years, even if at times his drive and determination had made him one of the most hated men in the company. But that, too, had toughened him. At the age of thirty, he’d already become a man to be reckoned with.

Which was a good thing. His younger brother, Royce, had had six years to make inroads in the upper echelons of the Spencer Hotels Corporation while Jared had been out toiling in the trenches. For as long as Jared could remember, he and his brother had been fierce rivals, a situation encouraged by their father to prepare them for the “real” world.

Whether it was on the football field, in the classroom or climbing the corporate ladder, Jared and his brother had been taught at an early age that it was a winner-takes-all world. The loser, it was always understood, got nothing.

But where Jared had thrived on the competition, Royce had grown bitter over the years. He deeply resented Jared’s ascension to the presidency of the company, even though the position didn’t offer complete autonomy. Jared answered to a powerful board of directors, and his promotion could prove all too temporary if he didn’t live up to expectations. His age and experience troubled the old-timers on the board, and they would be watching him closely for any slipups, any lapses in judgment that would give them ample cause to remove him.

Jared didn’t know what his brother had to complain about. As executor of a trust set up by their father, Royce had acquired no small amount of power himself.

Frowning, Jared thumbed through the mail. The trust had come as a complete surprise. Unbeknownst to anyone except Davis Spencer and his attorneys, he’d devised the ultimate contest between his sons. The first to produce a Spencer grandchild was given, upon Davis’s death, complete control of a fifty-million-dollar trust.

But Royce didn’t seem to appreciate the fact that the real prize wasn’t the trust, but his family. He had two great kids, a son and a daughter, but unfortunately, he seemed all too preoccupied with the money and the power it brought him. And even that wasn’t enough.

“The board should have named me president,” he’d ranted after the funeral, when he’d learned of Jared’s appointment. “Their decision had nothing to do with who’s the better man for the job. You got that appointment solely because you’re the eldest. Don’t kid yourself into thinking you deserve it. You’ve been away for six years. Six years, damn it, while I stayed here and worked my butt off. While I catered to the old man’s every whim.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing down in New Orleans?” Jared retorted. “I paid my dues, too, Royce. I spent fourteen and fifteen hours a day, seven days a week, on that project. You want to talk about working your butt off? You want to talk about sacrifice?”

“Oh, please.” Royce gave him a killing look. “You were in New Orleans, for God’s sake. Do you know what I would have given to be in your place instead of stuck here with the old man?”

“You could have been there. That project was up for grabs six years ago. But you weren’t willing to start out at the bottom, like I was.”

“Oh, yeah, it was up for grabs, all right. And you grabbed it so fast, it made my head spin. You just couldn’t wait to get down there and prove yourself, could you? You couldn’t get out of Mississippi fast enough.”

That part was true, Jared thought, but not for the reasons Royce had mentioned. Jared’s leaving had nothing to do with their father and very little to do with ambition. He’d left Mississippi because of Tess.

Tess.

Funny how he hadn’t thought of her in years, but the moment he’d returned to Mississippi, the instant he’d smelled the roses at the lake house, her image had popped into his head. He’d been transported back in time, to the very moment when he’d first realized that Tess Granger, the daughter of his mother’s housekeeper, had grown into a beautiful, desirable woman.

He was just back from his graduate work at Harvard that summer, home for the first time in nearly two years. The family—including Royce and his new wife—had all driven up to the lake house for the weekend, but by Sunday afternoon, everyone except Jared had gone back to the city. He was finally alone, and the solitude suited him at the time because he’d been feeling pressured by everyone in his life, especially by his father, who insisted it was time for Jared, as the eldest son, to assume his rightful place in the company. And then there was the endless competition with his younger brother—it had all become overwhelming.

Jared had been restless that afternoon, in desperate need of a diversion. And just like that, there she was. A sun-kissed Eve, tempting and beguiling, skinny-dipping in his swimming pool.

Tanned and slim, her golden-brown hair trailing like a mermaid’s behind her, she glided through the water like a dream. She didn’t have a stitch on, but she seemed completely oblivious to her blatant sexuality.

Who was she? Jared wondered as he watched her from the French doors that looked out on the pool. And what was she doing trespassing on private property?

Not that he cared, of course.

When she turned and floated on her back, he saw that she’d pilfered one of his mother’s prized roses and brazenly tucked it behind one ear.

Opening the French door, he stepped out on the patio. She didn’t appear to hear him, but floated serenely on the water, eyes closed.

“Hello there.”

She gasped, sank, swallowed water, then began to flail wildly. Finally getting her balance, she plunged lower into the water, covering her breasts with her hands. “I…thought everyone was…gone,” she managed to sputter.

Jared grinned. “Obviously.” He walked over and picked up a towel from one of the patio tables and offered it to her.

It took her a moment to regain her composure, but she did so admirably. She gave him a cool, reproving look. “Turn around, please.”

Jared complied. Behind him came the sound of splashing water as she swam to the side and hitched herself out of the pool, then grabbed the towel from his hand.

“You can turn back around now.”

Swathed from neck to knee in white terry cloth, she lifted her chin defiantly. “I suppose you’re going to tell my mother about this.”

“Tell your mother?” How could he, when he didn’t know who she was or where she lived? On the Eden side of the lake? Most of the locals did. The north side was reserved for vacation homes and exclusive estates owned mostly by out-of-towners, and was sometimes derisively referred to as Sin City by the locals.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” she challenged.

“Should I?”

“I’m Tess.”

“Tess?”

A look of annoyance flickered across her features. “Joelle Granger’s daughter. You remember Joelle, don’t you? Your housekeeper?” She said it almost as a jeer, as if she was chiding him for something other than his faulty memory.

Joelle had served him breakfast on the patio just that very morning, so, of course, Jared remembered her. But he also remembered her daughter as a scrawny kid with wild, curly hair and braces. This couldn’t be Tess.

“My God,” he said incredulously. “When did you grow up?”

She shrugged. “Oh, let’s see, I think it was just after you left for your Ivy League education up north. Harvard, wasn’t it? I guess you didn’t get back down here to the sticks very often after that. Except for the wild party you threw one New Year’s Eve that my mother and I had to clean up after.”

He winced at the censure in her tone. “Sorry,” he muttered, not knowing exactly what to say in the face of her animosity. “You were paid for your services, weren’t you?” He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words left his mouth, and sure enough, her expression darkened.

“Oh, of course. We’ve always been well paid for our services, Mr. Spencer.”

“Call me Jared.”

“That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Why not?”

She gave him a withering look. “Because my mother works for you.”