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“I’m considering purchasing shares of the company and making a loan that would enable Imagination to continue its operation.”

“Kind of you,” Dena murmured, a bit sarcastically. She was reappraising Shane—sizing him up. There was something about him that was more disturbing than his evident male virility . . . an uneasy haunting familiarity . . . that kept nagging at her. What was it about him that bothered her so? Nervously she toyed with her pen as she watched him. “What’s in this for you, Mr. Kennedy?” she asked, and Mara felt herself stiffen. Up until this point, Dena had held onto the pretense of being a competent, interested shareholder. But there was a relentless persistence in the redhead’s eyes that unnerved Mara.

“Call me Shane,” he responded with a pleasant smile. “Don’t worry . . . Dena—” he used her first name cautiously, but she nodded politely as he did so “—this isn’t a one-sided endeavor. Delta Electronics will profit admirably from the venture.”

“Hmm . . .” was her unsure response.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get busy,” Shane admitted. “Mara, first I’ll need an office with a telephone. Then, I want all of these ledgers transferred to that office. Oh, and I’ll need space for the terminal . . .” He ran his finger thoughtfully along his jawline.

“Anything else?” Mara asked sarcastically.

“Yes.” His fingers snapped decisively. “Arrange for a board meeting sometime this week, if possible, and I’ll have a written proposal for all of the members of the board.”

Mara felt the muscles in her back stiffen. He was so efficient, so damned efficient. There was an unquestionable air of authority and businesslike demand to all of his movements.

“You can use Stewart Callison’s office,” Mara stated, reaching for a stack of the ledgers and holding the door open with her foot. “He’s on vacation and won’t be back until the middle of September. If you’re still here when he returns, we’ll rearrange everything, I suppose.”

Shane reached for a pile of his paperwork and his briefcase, and followed Mara down a long, white hallway to the small cubicle that was Stewart’s office. If he thought the accommodations confining, he didn’t complain, but stacked his work neatly on a corner of the desk.

It took several trips to carry all of the ledgers to Shane’s office. When at last Mara’s office was once again her own, she was surprised to find Dena still sitting, half-draped across the small leather divan.

“Let’s go over the budget right now,” Mara suggested, finally dropping into her rightful chair behind the desk. She pulled a file from her drawer and spread it on the desktop.

“Can it wait?” Dena asked, distractedly.

“But I thought . . .”

Dena made a dismissive gesture. “The budget can wait. What I want to know is why you insist on being bullheaded about Kennedy’s offer to buy out Imagination?”

“I explained all of that before.”

“Wasn’t his offer high enough?”

“We never even got down to dollar signs.”

“Then you didn’t give the man a chance!” Dena accused viciously.

“Listen, Dena. I told you before, I’m not interested in selling. At least, not now. Shane’s made a very interesting counterproposal that he intends to present to the shareholders. If the majority accepts his terms, then perhaps Imagination will still be able to pull out of this slump.”

“And if not? What then, Mara?” Dena cut in, her temper rising angrily. “Then we’ll be in debt to Kennedy, along with a list of other creditors as long as my arm. What good will he have done us?”

Mara listened patiently, the only evidence of her anger being the silent drumming of her fingers against the empty coffee cup on her desk.

“Why don’t you just give up, for God’s sake? You were never cut out to run this company, and by now, even you should be able to see it. Ever since you took over, the losses have increased to the point of no return. Take your chance while it’s offered; sell the whole damned company and be rid of it! Parceling off a few shares to Kennedy and having him loan us some more funds is only forestalling the inevitable.”

“You’re suggesting that I take the money and run?”

“In so many words, I guess so.”

“Why? Why are you so anxious to get out of the company? If you don’t like being a part of it, why don’t you just sell your shares to Shane and be done with it?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dena countered.

“What do you mean?”

“You’d like to be rid of me. I know that I’ve been a thorn in your side, and really, I haven’t meant to be,” Dena persisted. “But it galls me to no end that you . . . someone who really isn’t related to anyone in the family. . . is running Imagination.”

“Dena,” Mara began, choosing her words carefully. “I understand why you resent me. And I know that you feel that you should have inherited the bulk of the company stock, as you were your father’s first born, but—”