“Yes. He was concerned that his niece—that you, Miss Adams, lack the maturity to—”
“So he decided to put a safety valve on his assets.” A chilly smile twisted across Grant’s lips. “And that’s where I come in.”
“You?” Crista took a breath. “But that’s impossible! I don’t even know you. And I’m not a child. You said yourself you thought I was twelve years old, but—”
“Never mind what I thought.” Grant’s eyes glittered. “You just became my ward. And you’ll remain my ward until you reach your twenty-first birthday.”
Crista stared at Grant’s stony face. My God, she thought, he wasn’t kidding!
Anger swept through her, swiftly shunting aside the shocked disbelief of the past few minutes.
“Like hell I will,” she said through her teeth. Her eyes flashed as she spun toward Horace Blackburn. “There’s no way that’s going to happen, Horace! I am not a minor, and I am not a fool, and I will not be treated as if I were either! There’s no law that says—”
“We’re talking about the provisions of a will, Miss Adams. Your uncle had the right to make whatever provisions he deemed suitable concerning your inheritance. It was his money.”
“But it’s my life. Or have you ‘gentlemen’ conveniently forgotten that?”
Blackburn gave her a condescending smile. “Mr. Landon will be there to offer guidance—”
“Guidance? From him? I’d sooner take ‘guidance’ from a—from a snake!”
“Miss Adams, please. This is for your own good. Your uncle hoped that with maturity would come wisdom, and—”
“Wisdom?” She gave a hollow laugh. “I’m supposed to get wisdom in three months? Because that’s when I’ll be twenty-one, Horace. In just three short months.”
“And three months is a very short time,” Blackburn said soothingly. “You and Mr. Landon—”
“How did you pull this off?” Hands knotted into fists, Crista swung toward Grant and glared at him. “Just tell me that, okay? How did you get yourself appointed my guardian?”
Grant glowered at her from under his brows. “Don’t be a complete fool,” he growled. “I didn’t even know who you were until an hour ago. If you think this has any more appeal for me than it has for you—”
“I’ll get my own attorney, dammit!” Her chin lifted in angry defiance. “I’ll take you to court, Landon, and I’ll have this—this proviso tossed out the window!”
“That’s your privilege,” Grant said coldly. “Of course, by the time you get this case before a judge, you’ll be blowing out the candles on your birthday cake—but that’s up to you.”
She stared at him, her face flushed, and then she turned back to Horace Blackburn.
“Let me get this straight. I inherited my uncle’s estate—but until I’m twenty-one, that man is my guardian.”
Blackburn nodded. “Exactly.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And does it work in reverse? If I refuse the inheritance, I don’t have to have anything to do with him?”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Miss Adams.”
“It’s really very simple.” Crista snatched her purse from the chair and marched to the door. “Simon left me his money, and now I have to decide if it’s worth putting up with that man to get it.”
There was an instant’s silence, and then Grant laughed. Crista swung toward him, her eyes shooting fire.
“Do you find this amusing?”
“You’re good. Really good. I have to give you that.”
“Don’t give me anything, Mr. Landon. Just get out of my way!”
“Miss Adams—”
“And you stop ‘Miss Adamsing’ me, dammit!” Crista shrugged off Blackburn’s restraining hand. “There’s no law that says I have to accept the money, is there?”
Blackburn’s brow furrowed. “Not exactly, but—”
“So, I was the last person in the world Simon could leave his money to, hmm? Well, that’s too bad—because maybe I’m the last person in the world who wants it!”
“Like it or not, young woman, you are—by law—Simon Adams’s heir. You cannot change that.”
“But if I don’t touch the money—”
“Whether you do or you do not, the facts will not change. Grant Landon is your legal guardian. You cannot just—”
“I can do anything I like! My uncle never figured that out, but I did, a long time ago.”
“Yes.” Grant’s voice was low and chill. “I’ll just bet you did.”
Crista looked at him. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you might as well be a child for all the maturity you show.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said coldly.
“You heard me. From the minute you walked into this office, you’ve behaved like a spoiled brat.”
“Which is it, Mr. Landon? Are you an attorney, or are you a shrink?”
“Just listen to yourself.” Grant’s mouth thinned as his eyes swept over her. “For that matter, just look at yourself. Everything you say and do is based on petulance.”
“While you,” Crista said with a brilliant smile, “act only out of cool, calm logic.”
The gibe hit home. She knew he understood it as stripes of color bloomed on his cheekbones.
“I’m not proud of the times I haven’t, I assure you,” he said in a low, taut voice.
The memory of his kiss, of how she had responded to it, was bad enough. But to see the way he was looking at her now, to see the disgust in those hazel eyes as he remembered, too, was almost more than Crista could bear.
“Poor Grant,” she said, fighting to keep her tone cool. “Led astray by the forces of evil. How sad.”
“I’m glad you find this amusing, Crista. But I promise you—”
“I don’t. I don’t find it amusing at all!” Crista took a deep breath. “I find it—I find it incredible, that—that you, of all people, should set yourself up as a paragon of righteousness.” She reached for the doorknob; her hand closed tightly around it. “You? My guardian?” She tossed her head, and the dark locks went flying. “It’s like setting the fox to guard the henhouse!”
Crista flung open the door, stepped into the hall, and slammed it after her.
All things considered, it was a dignified exit—but once she was safely out of sight, she gave up the pretense of dignity.
She fled.
CHAPTER FOUR
AS SOON as the door closed, Grant rounded on Horace Blackburn with barely repressed fury.
“Now, Mr. Landon,” the other man said, but Grant cut him off in midsentence.
“Are you crazy, Blackburn? Making Crista Adams my ward—hell, the woman is no more a child than I am!”
“According to the law—”
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“Dammit, don’t go quoting the law to me!”
“I was merely going to point out that providing a guardian for an individual who has not yet attained the age of twenty-one—or even twenty-five—is perfectly within the bounds of legal precedent.”
Grant eyed the other man coldly. “Don’t play games, Counselor. I was led to believe I was going to assume responsibility for a child.”
“Crista Adams needs a guiding hand, Mr. Landon. Look at the performance she just put on. What adult would pretend disinterest in such a fortune? Not that I believed her.” Blackburn sank into his chair and folded his hands on his desk. “Give her time to think things over, and she’ll be more than eager to get her hands on that money.”
“That’s not the point, dammit!” Grant gripped the beveled edges of Blackburn’s desk and leaned over it. “It is absolutely ridiculous to make me her guardian. Crista can vote. She can drive. She can marry. She can get a passport and go anywhere she pleases. She can do any damned thing she wants to do—”
“Except spend her inheritance,” Blackburn said smugly, “thanks to my foresight.”
“Well,” Grant said firmly, “you’ll have to find someone else to play watchdog. I’m signing off.”
“But I’ve already petitioned the court to accept you in lieu of your father. Surely—”
“Well, petition them again. As far as I’m concerned, if the lady wants to take her uncle’s money and spend it on—on building retirement homes for shell-shocked schoolteachers, that’s—”
“Simon Adams took his niece into his home when she was barely thirteen, Mr. Landon.” Blackburn pursed his lips in a moue of distaste. “By then, I’m afraid, her character was formed.”
“Listen, Blackburn, this is all very interesting, but. it has nothing to do with me, so—”
“Crista’s mother was a dancer. Very beautiful and—how shall I put this?—very earthy. She raised the girl in her own image.” Blackburn leaned forward. “Crista was out of control by the time she came into my client’s home, Mr. Landon. She had a frivolous attitude, and as she grew older, she developed a love of…excess that greatly concerned him.”