“Samara,” Dayna put in. “Just hold on here.”

Samara turned hostile eyes toward her mother, and Travis sighed. Was this going to deepen the rift between mother and daughter? He rubbed his face.

“This isn’t just up to us,” he said heavily. “Replacing Parker is a decision that needs to be made by the entire board of directors.”

Samara narrowed her eyes. “Doesn’t what Dad would have wanted come into it?”

“Samara, we don’t know what he wanted,” he pointed out. “He left you his shares, but he never stated that he wanted you to be CEO.” He paused. “Think about it. You don’t just jump from regional manager to CEO of the company overnight.”

She firmed her lips, her stubborn little chin dimpling. “I don’t see why not.”

She was the most frustrating female he’d ever met, goddamn it. Pressure built behind his eyes. “Look, Sam, I have no doubt that Parker wanted you to move up into an executive position some day. He talked about that. He was so damn proud of you getting your degree and the things you accomplished.”

She nodded tightly.

“You’re not ready for that,” he continued softly.

“I am ready,” she insisted stubbornly. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

He considered that. Was he biased? Admittedly, now that the subject was out in the open, he was beginning to realize how important this was to him. He’d helped Parker build the company. It had been his life ever since he and Parker had joined forces and especially since he’d moved to Los Angeles. After that, he’d had to prove himself all over again to Parker, desperate to get back his approval, his trust. He remembered his fear when Parker had been so pissed off at him that he’d screwed up the only thing he’d ever accomplished in his life, and felt that fear again. He wasn’t going to lose it. This company was his, and he would run it. No question.

“You just want the job for yourself,” she flung at him.

“Yes,” he admitted, holding her gaze. “I want that job for myself. This is my company too, and I’m the most logical one to do it.” He glanced at Dayna. Her eyes moved back and forth between them, her fingers twisted together in her lap.

“Travis...”

He nodded to her then turned back to Samara. “It’s only logical, Sam. Parker and I were partners. It only makes sense that I would step into that role.”

“Why should you have all the control?” She jumped to her feet and started pacing in front of the French doors. “You don’t hold all the shares in the company. Only forty percent.”

He took a deep breath. That was only too true. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I can’t handle all the responsibilities of my job and Parker’s. We’re going to have to restructure our executive management. Maybe divide some things up differently.”

“And where do I fit in there?”

It was a helluva question, actually. He thrust a hand through his hair.

She smiled at him. “Gotcha.”

No effing way. Not only did he have a vested personal interest in this, he had to consider the good of the company. They couldn’t have a twenty-four-year-old inexperienced CEO taking over.

His only consolation was that he knew there was no way the others would allow that to happen. And if it came to a vote, his forty percent plus their ten percent equaled fifty percent.

Leaving fifty percent in the hands of Samara...and her mother.

* * *

Samara and her mother met with the minister, made arrangements with the caterer and answered the door to continual deliveries of floral arrangements, but frustration ate at her that she was running around attending to those things when where she really wanted to be was at the office.

After hearing the news yesterday that she now owned her father’s shares in the company, it was crystal clear to her what she had to do. Ever since she’d arrived she’d felt a powerful need to go to the office, to step in, take charge, to know what the communications people were saying, to talk to staff and reassure them that their jobs were safe. But now she knew she had a right to step in. Not only a right, but a duty and an obligation. It was what her father would have wanted, she was sure of it, and she was filled with determination that she was going to take over.

Meanwhile, Travis was the one who was at the office, taking control.

She was not going to go back to San Francisco. She’d figure out what they’d do about her position there next week when she had time to sit down and think about it. They could easily cover her work in the short term, and for the longer term, well... Barry could be ready to move up.

Dealing with Travis could be a problem. He clearly thought he was the one who’d take over for Dad. He did know a lot about the business. But she was family. She was the best one to know what her father would have wanted. Travis still affected her, but surely enough time had passed that she could deal with him on a business level and keep things professional. She’d done that for the last seven years, not letting people get too close to her. She’d had a few relationships, but they’d never progressed to anything lasting. Her business relationships were just that—business. She could do this.

Except right now she was all tied up in the details of planning a funeral. For her father.

More grief washed down through her, nearly overwhelming her, along with a feeling that was near anger at her father for doing this to them. But that only strengthened her determination to step in for him.

Mom had told her they’d eat dinner at six. She’d find out more from Travis then about what was happening at the office. An eager anticipation simmered inside her, and she knew it wasn’t just because she wanted to talk business with him.

But Travis wasn’t there. He’d gone out for dinner, Mom told her. Disappointed, then annoyed because she was disappointed, Samara picked at her food. Who was he having dinner with? Why hadn’t he taken her mother with him? Maybe it was another woman. He probably had lots of friends...including old girlfriends in Portland he hadn’t seen for ages. Maybe it was clients. That bugged her just about as much as thinking about him with another woman.

Or maybe he was just abiding by their agreement to stay away from each other. Damn him.

“What are you going to wear Friday?” Mom asked over dinner. It was just the two of them. Samara would have skipped it except her mother had set the table, and she just couldn’t find it in her to be that rude.

The age-old female question. Samara didn’t want to admit she’d been thinking about that too. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I didn’t pack a lot. I was kind of in shock.” The idea that she’d needed to pack something for a funeral had almost paralyzed her.

“Do you need to borrow something? Or go shopping?”

Samara was not going to wear her mother’s clothes to the funeral. “I’m sure I have something that will do.” She tried to sound offhand.

“After dinner we could have a look,” Mom tentatively offered. Samara opened her mouth to refuse the offer then caught the look on her mother’s face. Nervous diffidence, as if she were fearful of being rejected. Again, Samara couldn’t bring herself to hurt her mother’s feelings.

She nodded, her throat rigid, and lifted her fork to her mouth. She had no idea what she was eating; she chewed and swallowed without tasting a thing.

They went to her room after dinner, and Samara opened the closet door. She’d unpacked the few things she’d brought with her and hung them up. “Um...the room looks nice,” she said, reaching for the hangers. “I like how you redecorated it.”

“Thanks.” Mom smiled. “I didn’t want to change it too much, but it looked a little...juvenile.” She pursed her lips. “I’m glad you like it. I kept hoping—”

“This is what I have.” Samara interrupted her mother, not wanting to hear what she’d been about to say. She was afraid her mother was going to try to have that talk she’d said they would have, and she was so not ready for that yet. It was bad enough that they were being all girly friendly and looking at clothes.

She held up a black wrap dress with cap sleeves in her left hand, and a black suit in the other. The suit was a business suit, with a simple pencil skirt and tailored jacket.

“Um...you might be warm in the suit,” Mom said. “It’s supposed to be eighty-five degrees.”

Samara nodded. “If you think the dress is okay, that’s what I’ll wear.” The truth was the wrap dress was one of her favorites. The cut was flattering, and the V neck was a good style for her. “Um...do you think it’s too low cut?”

Her mom eyed the neckline. “It’s hard to tell on the hanger. Do you have a camisole you could put under it?”

“No.”

“Try it on.”

Reluctantly, Samara pulled her T-shirt over her head and unzipped the cotton skirt she was wearing to stand self-consciously in her underwear in front of her mother. She was wearing lime green lace boy short panties and a matching push-up bra. What did her mother think of that?

She pushed her arms through the sleeves and did the dress up, tying it at her waist, then looked down at herself. The push-up bra definitely enhanced her cleavage. “I have a black bra,” she muttered.

“Then you’re fine,” Mom said, studying her. “The green shows a bit, but black will work.” She smiled, and the fact that she looked a little teary gave Samara a little jolt. “You’re so beautiful, Samara.”

Samara swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

“You could show up wearing a bathrobe, and you’d look gorgeous,” her mother said with a little laugh, touching a fingertip to the corner of one eye. Samara laughed, warmth expanding in her chest. “How about shoes?”