Nothing less than sheer desperation could make Ian Foster hire Tansy Appletree. The solitary sheep farmer and vivacious accountant slash town mayor have absolutely nothing in common. So why is Ian feeling like a different person ever since Tansy arrived to go over his books?
Serenity Valley's resident recluse doesn't fool her for a minute. Tansy's been curious about Ian for years—she's a sucker for his rugged outdoorsman quality. What she sees is someone who's chosen to set himself apart from their town. Beneath that gruff, growly exterior, he's sweet and tender and has already forged a strong bond with his brother's foster boy.
Ian just needs someone to help him see his family man potential. And Tansy's elected herself. But even she may not be able to pull off this miracle.
Ian Foster came in from the barn, went automatically to his office, sat down at his desk and began to go through the mail.
A promotional offer for direct T V. Imbeciles—didn't they know he already had it? He tossed the flyer into the wastepaper basket. Next was a bill. He frowned, then put it in the "bills" folder and picked up the last envelope.
It was addressed to Foster Brothers, Inc., and the return address was Internal Revenue Service. He opened it with interest. Maybe the corporation he and his brothers had formed was getting a tax refund. They couldn't possibly owe more money—Ian had calculated the numbers too carefully, checking and double-checking.
He read it, and frustration rose from the pit of his stomach and emerged as a shout loud enough to rattle the paper clips on his desk. Man, why now? This was the last thing they needed. He slumped in his chair, put his head on his desk and held his breath.
"You dead? If you are, nod so I can start CPR."
Ian leaped up from his desk to confront his brother Daniel. "Of course I'm not dead."
"Do you feel faint?"
"Do I look like I feel faint? What the hell's wrong with you?"
Daniel's expression informed Ian that Daniel was thinking. Maddening trait of Daniel's—thinking before he spoke. "I'm on the way back from the barn where I've been inspecting your sheep," he said in that reasonable tone that drove Ian crazy, "and I hear a cry of pain from my brother, so I run into the house, find him collapsed at his desk, so I assume heart attack, and my first thought is to save his life. It's a natural reaction, Ian." His bedside manner also drove Ian crazy.
"For a cardiologist, maybe."
"Okay," Daniel said, "so what happened?"
Ian simply handed over the letter.
Daniel's smile faded. "Ah, the corporation's being audited. So what? You haven't lied or cheated or…"
Ian glared at him. "Of course not." He motioned his brother toward a leather-covered armchair. Why he bothered, he didn't know. Daniel knew he could sit down. "Auditors probe," he said. "Maybe they'll probe into why we formed the corporation, into who we are. If they find out who we are, and I'm sure the IRS has CIA-type information systems, then we're done for."
"Why would the IRS care about our past as long as we're paying our taxes?"
"Not the IRS, Serenity Valley," Ian moaned.
"You think the IRS would tell the neighbors?"
"You never know," Ian said, narrowing his eyes. "The auditor might be a local. He tells his wife, she tells her sister, who tells the preacher's wife, who tells the preacher…You know what it's like around here."
"Whoa," Daniel said. "You're thinking way too far ahead."
"I like being ready for the worst."
"Still," Daniel said, "if there's nothing wrong with the return and the documentation is in order, nothing will attract their attention. You have everything on disk, right? The books? The return?"
Ian cleared his throat. "The return itself looks professional."
"What are you telling me?"
"Well…" He had to confess. "I never quite got the hang of that accounting software." He pulled a clothbound volume out of his side drawer. "Here are our books." Then he produced his spreadsheet. Handwritten.
Daniel paled. "Geez, Ian. Where's your abacus?"
Feeling hurt, Ian displayed a handheld calculator.
"How did you get through business school?"
"I don't know. By being charming?"
"No," Daniel said, sounding resigned, "by coming up with the right answers in your own primitive way. But hey, it doesn't matter. You're overreacting. If there's nothing wrong with our numbers, why would they—"
"What if some little thing is wrong? If they get interested in us…"
Ian's worry wasn't financial, but personal. Of course the Foster Corporation, Inc. return was accurate—it would have been accurate down to the last penny if the government didn't insist on rounding off the numbers. He had a much more important reason to want to panic, and Daniel knew perfectly well what it was.
Putting it bluntly—he didn't know how to put things any other way—the Fosters weren't Fosters, or even brothers. They'd met in a juvenile correction facility, had bonded because of their mutual goal—to leave their pasts behind and get ahead in the world by working hard. And most of all by supporting one another, understanding that they each had a separate, very different career goal, and sacrificing whatever it took to make sure that each of them reached that goal.
They'd done it. Managed to get Daniel through veterinary school, and now he was Serenity Valley's most respected vet—its only vet, actually, but highly thought of. Sent Mike to culinary school, and now Mike's Diner was raking in the money—and the rave reviews for Mike's culinary skills. Respect was what it took to make it in this closed-in valley where everybody knew everybody else and newcomers were subjected to intense scrutiny.
Ian's degree was in animal husbandry, and after deciding that Daniel and Mike were hopeless with money, he got a second degree in business and took on the responsibility for their financial security. Now he could ruin them. It was a lot to think about.
Daniel gazed at him thoughtfully. "You might want to turn this audit over to someone else," he said.
"You think I can't handle it?" Ian's pride was involved here. As the youngest of the brothers, he had to prove that he could take care of them as well as they'd taken care of him. They'd put him in charge of the family financial affairs. If they ever decided they couldn't trust him, he'd have to opt out of the family, change his name and start all over.
Yes, he needed to be prepared for the worst-case scenario, because he'd lived through a few of them already. He tuned in to what Daniel was saying.
"You can't handle it tactfully," Daniel said, less than tactfully. "For example, 'none of your business' might not be the best thing to say to the auditor."
Daniel was right. That was exactly what Ian would have said if the auditor had cornered him. Neither tact nor subtlety was in his skill set. "Who should I turn it over to?" he said.
Daniel thought for a moment. "Tansy Appletree's the only tax accountant in the valley," he said. "Hire her."
"No way," Ian growled.
"Why not?"
Because she's too short to have any brains, and besides, she's way too energetic. "Well, because…" Daniel was waiting, with that irritatingly patient look on his face.
"Because she's also the mayor of Holman, her father is our state senator, her brother is planning to run for governor, so I don't trust her, either," Ian blurted out. "If she suspected anything, she'd spill it. And she'll be looking for things, too." He got up and began to pace. "Everybody in the valley is curious about us, especially about me, because I haven't gotten 'involved,' as they like to say, in the community."
"So get involved, Ian."
Ian didn't want to be involved with anybody but Daniel and Mike and their ever-expanding families. "That's not what we're talking about."
"In a way it is. You're saying you don't trust them. Tansy's a great person, and she's been an excellent mayor. She and Lilah and Allie are friends, and besides, unlike others I could mention—" the look Daniel gave him was so intense, Ian felt pinned down "—she uses the most up-to-date software. In fact, Lilah and Allie call her their 'redheaded geek.' So why not give her a chance?"
Lilah was Daniel's wife. Mike and Allie had set a wedding date. Ian had learned to trust the women because his brothers clearly did, but it hadn't been easy. Still, he'd make a better impression if he presented the auditor with professional-looking records to back up the return, so he guessed he should listen up. He ground his teeth. "I'll think about it."
"How long do you have to think?" Ian glanced at the letter. "Not very long." Daniel got up. "Now that we've...
