âI just couldnât go any longerâ¦Sunday night feels like years ago, and I canât focus on work, I canât sleep, I canâtâ¦Youâre in my head all the timeâ¦â
âYeah,â Jani whispered. âYouâre causing me that same problem.â
She couldnât tell whether that pleased him or not. But she didnât really care. She was too lost in looking at him, at that impressive collection of features and those penetrating iridescent sea-green eyes.
And there was something undeniable and irresistible happening at that moment between them that she just couldnât fight.
So when he came, Jani went slowly forward, too.
Two hours and twenty-three minutes. That was how long January Camden had been waiting in her car on that Monday afternoon. Actually, it was Monday evening by then because it was now twenty-three minutes after six oâclock. And she decided that, for her, there was no appeal to being a stalker.
But stalking Gideon Thatcher at his place of business was what sheâd been reduced to.
She closed the book sheâd been reading when it was still light out, put it into her oversize hobo purse and turned on the engine of her sedan in order to run the heat for a few minutes.
It was the end of Januaryâthe month of her birth and the reason for her name. And although the daytime weather in Denver had been unseasonably warm and springlike, it was now after dark and getting much colder, forcing her to start her car and turn on the heater more frequently than when sheâd first begun this quest today.
How late did this guy work, anyway?
She knew that Gideon Thatcher was in the office because sheâd called and quizzed the receptionist before beginning this stakeout. The helpful older-sound-ing woman had said that he was expected to be there until five.
Jani had arrived in the heart of downtown Denver at four oâclock. Sheâd taken one turn around the block to make sure there wasnât a rear exit to the redbrick turn-of-the-century mansion that had been remodeled into office space. Then sheâd parked on the street two car lengths from the front of the building where she could see the entrance.
At that point sheâd placed a second call to the Thatcher Groupâs receptionist and again asked if Gideon Thatcher was in. âIn, but not availableâ had been the answer. So sheâd been waiting ever since to ambush the man. Sheâd seen pictures of him on his website and in a recent newspaper article, so she was certain that he hadnât slipped by without her recognizing him.
Gideon Thatcher was the owner of the Thatcher Group, a private company that offered city planning services. The article had brought him to Janiâs grand-motherâs immediate attention, leading seventy-five-year-old Georgianna Camden to recruit Jani for her project of making amends to the victims of the Cam-den familyâs past business misdeeds.
The Camdens owned Camden Incorporated, which encompassed a worldwide chain of superstores and many of the factories, warehouses, production facilities, ranches and farms that stocked them. An empire. Built by Janiâs great-grandfather, H. J. Camden.
The caring family man sheâd loved.
Unfortunately, when it had come to business, H. J. Camden had been very different from the way heâd been at home. It had always been rumored that he was ruthless, that he had trampled and sacrificed numerous people in the building of the Camden empire. That heâd instilled this ruthlessness in his son, Hank, and even in his grandsonsâJaniâs late father, Howard, and her uncle Mitchum.
The family had hoped the rumors werenât true. It just didnât sound like the kind, loving men whom Jani, her siblings and her cousins had experienced. But now, thanks to finding H.J.âs journals, the worst of the stories about his business dealings had been confirmed.
And so Georgianna had drafted H.J.âs ten descendants, sending them on fact-finding missions to learn how best to make some sort of compensation to his victims and their families. They were determined to do what they could to atone to some of the people most wronged in the past.
But Gideon Thatcher wasnât making this easy for Jani. Heâd denied her request for a meeting with him. He hadnât answered her voice mails or emails or the letter sheâd sent to him. She wasnât sure what else to do but lie in wait for him and try to force him to talk to her. Essentially she was stalking him.
Jani sat up straight and arched away from the car seat to ease the kink out of her back, then slipped her arms into the navy blue wool peacoat sheâd taken off when it was warmer. She buttoned it over her white turtleneck sweater and navy wool slacks.