A Sweet Deal (Crimson Romance)

Avon, Massachusetts

Copyright © 2014 by Monica Tillery.

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

Published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

www.crimsonromance.com

ISBN 10: 1-4405-8070-7

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8070-3

eISBN 10: 1-4405-8071-5

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8071-0

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Cover art © istockphoto.com/Piotr Marcinski

For Nitza Campos, an incredible friend and beautiful individual.

I couldn’t have done it without you, and I wouldn’t have wanted to.

A Sweet Deal
has been through many drafts, and it is a dream come true for me that it finally has a home. Without the support of my friends and, of course, my awesome husband Dave, I would have been sorely tempted to leave this story tucked into my hard drive.

Thank you to my favorite early readers, Nitza Campos, Christine Grazioli, Amy Valentine, and Rachel Sweigart. I appreciate your enthusiasm and support for this project; your feedback helped shape what it finally became, and I doubt it would’ve ever seen the light of day without your help!

Thank you so much to Nitza Campos, who lent me her middle and maiden names, suggested outfits for Yvette, braved her parents’ wrath to check for authenticity in my writing, and shared everything about Puerto Rican cooking with me. There is no Yvette without you!

My huge thanks also to Leslie McKinney, my beautiful friend, for sharing your story of what it’s like to have cancer as a teen. Thank you for letting me shamelessly use your experiences.

Finally, I am supremely grateful for my amazing editor, Tara Gelsomino. I love working with you and appreciate the work you put into this project. It definitely wouldn’t have been the same without you. As always, I would love to do it again!

Richard slipped into the conference room and raised his eyebrows at his father, who waved at him to keep quiet and take a seat. One more meeting and he’d be out of the office until after the big Confectioners Association conference. Throaty laughter floated through the speaker, catching his attention and making him wonder who was on the line.

“Have you reviewed the offer? You should’ve received the most current information last week.”

His father sat forward on his elbows and spoke into the phone. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been going over the details, but I still need to meet with my son. I want him to have a clear view of what’s on the table before we make any big decisions. He’s going to be the one taking over when I retire.” His father leaned back in his chair, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Of course, if he won’t agree, maybe I’ll just say yes so we get to spend more time together.” He grinned at Richard, clearly pleased with his little joke, which only managed to set his son’s teeth on edge.

“Michael, you are too much.” A sexy, feminine voice wound through the conference room, smooth as melted cocoa butter and twice as decadent. “You’ve got to let me buy you a drink in Vegas so we can hash this out. I know you’ll see things my way.”

“I’d love that, Yvette, but I’m buying. I insist.”

Yvette?
It must be Yvette Cruz, the mergers and acquisitions representative from Saffron Sweets. The one who’d been approaching his father from every angle to convince him to agree to a buyout.

More than thirty years ago, Michael Morgan had started the family business at the urging of Richard’s mother, Amelia, a fabulous cook with an unquenchable sweet tooth. The neighborhood candy shop in a quiet section of Philadelphia was an immediate success, and Richard and his brother Robert grew up amid its gleaming confectionary jars, sweeping and dusting, manning the cash register, and serving customers. They’d even assisted their mother with recipes for new confections.

The business grew rapidly during the past three decades from a thriving regional brand to a national conglomerate—all the while remaining family owned and privately held. Newer, bigger divisions arose that supplied beverages, pet care products, and household chemicals to consumers, and now Morgan Enterprises was one of the largest privately-held companies in the country with divisions spread across America.

However, with the new directions, confections had faltered and consistently lost money over the last several quarters. Selling it to Saffron Sweets, a startup chocolatier that had traded artisanship for mass-production and reaped considerable profits and growth over the last few years, made good business sense.

His father was relaxed, with a fond smile on his face, and a playful tone that matched hers in his voice. This woman represented the death of the one thing in the world Richard cared about, and his father was practically flirting with her.

“Wonderful. See you there.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it pushed his blood pressure up a few notches.

“Yep, see you soon.”

They ended the call, and Richard stalked around the room, pausing to pour ice water into a crystal tumbler. He tamped down his rising irritation, unclenched his fists, and sat back down in his chair. “You already know that I don’t want any division of Morgan Enterprises going public, and that includes confections. I wish you would just turn them down already. If Saffron wants to expand their product lines beyond chocolates, I don’t see why they can’t do that without us. I know it’s not up to me, but I think this is a mistake.”

He looked across the conference table at his father, who had become his mentor, his friend, and his confidante. Recently, however, they hadn’t been seeing eye to eye.

“Son, I love your devotion to the company. Always have. Why you’re so protective of the confections division in particular is beyond me, however. That division’s been a loss leader for years, and as you know, I’ve been considering narrowing our focus so that pet care and chemicals gets more attention. I wouldn’t mind having confections out of the picture so we can grow in other areas. Just think of how much more we could do with the profitable divisions if we shed the dead weight. It’s actually lucky that they’re so interested. If we sell, we can at least recoup some of our investment instead of letting confections die a slow and unprofitable death.”

It never failed to surprise Richard how different their viewpoints could be despite the stubborn streak they shared. For years, that combination had kept things strained. His father had done his best, had raised Richard and his younger brother Robert with love and devotion after their mother’s death, but he was busy building the business and finding the next Mrs. Morgan. He was a good father, but it wasn’t until Richard was himself an adult and working with Michael in the executive offices to steer the business that they’d managed to grow closer.

“How can you say that? Candy is what made Morgan a household name! It’s what we’re known for, what we’ve always been known for. I know it isn’t as lucrative as the other branches, but as a Morgan, it feels like a part of me. A part of
us
.” The candy store had been his first job and his first love. For years after Amelia had passed away, Richard would visit that flagship store, convinced he could still smell her lavender perfume in the bustling kitchen.

Morgan Confectioners was a national brand, its products carried in mass retailers now, and the little Philly candy shop was long gone. Where his father saw dollars and nonexistent profit margins, Richard saw the company born from his mother’s vision and hard work. Afternoons spent helping at the shop with his brother, and the time spent working as a family they’d never have again. Memories were all he had left, and he couldn’t let it go without a fight. Replacing the Morgan label with Saffron’s was unthinkable.

His father shook his head. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. Industry is about more than sentiment, son, and after I’m gone … well, you’re the last Morgan in the business. I want to know that every aspect of the company is as strong as it can be. That could mean letting this one piece go for the good of the whole. I’m not sure we’ll get a better offer than Saffron’s, and I’d hate to see you forced into a less beneficial deal one or two years down the line.”

“Dad, I’m never going to sell. I’ll run everything myself once you step down in a few years. But you’re still going strong, and I’m hardly the last Morgan. I’m sure Robert would come through in a crisis.” He resisted the childish urge to cross his fingers on that last part. Richard’s younger brother headed up his own incredibly successful record label and had no intention of ever joining the family business.

“I’m not talking about retirement; I’m talking long term here, son—our legacy,” he said. “And you’re the only Morgan I consider when making decisions about the company. Robert has made it very clear that he’s not interested in being involved.”

Richard tapped his fingers on the table and furrowed his brow. Single with no children, he could only promise to keep the company in the family as long as he lived—that much was true. They would eventually have to face the fact that Morgan could only be a family-run company as long as there were family members alive who were willing to run it.

“Richard, I know you don’t want to hear this, but if you’re determined to keep the business in the family, there is one other chance. It’s no guarantee but it’s still the best bet we’ve got, and I need you to consider it.”

At a loss, Richard stared at his father expectantly. He’d try anything.

Michael paused for a beat and smiled, clearly amused with Richard’s confusion. “You could get married.”

Oh.
Richard rolled his eyes and sighed. “Why does everything always come down to marriage with you?” His father loved the idea of marriage so much that he had taken the plunge two more times since the death of his beloved wife. Richard wasn’t sure if the man was afraid of dying alone, trying to recreate the magic of his first fairy-tale relationship, or just in love with the idea of being in love. But it seemed that there was no limit to the chances Michael Morgan would take in his pursuit of wedded bliss.

“Don’t laugh. I’m serious. A marriage means stability, children, more family. You might even like it.” His father smiled kindly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Because it worked out so well for me the first time?” Richard asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

His smile faded. “Just because it didn’t work out once doesn’t mean you should never try it again. I know that it’s hard to believe now but not every woman is like Chelsea.”

“Yes, well, thank God for that,” Richard mumbled. He’d been divorced almost five years, but the lessons he’d learned still stung.

“I know. Don’t you think it’s been long enough, though? Do you really mean to tell me that you never want to get out there and try again? You can’t let one bad experience ruin the rest of your life.” His father would never truly accept that Richard was happy remaining unmarried—probably couldn’t wrap his mind around it.