The sound of a powerful automobile engine signaled Nathan’s arrival. Chloe gave Grandmillie a quick squeeze of the hand and an air kiss before she straightened. “Time to join the jet set.”

“Cinderella going to the ball,” Grandmillie said. “You deserve it.”

Chloe scooped up the handbag and headed for the front door. The bell rang just as she turned the knob to open it.

The Nathan who stood on her front porch was every inch the CEO in a tailored navy suit, a white shirt, and a red power tie. The gleaming waves of his hair were subdued, and his black wing tips shone like mirrors. Even his face seemed carved into commanding angles.

“In full intimidation mode, I see,” Chloe said, although her heart and her pulse leaped at the sight.

That loosened the tense set of his jaw. He gave her an appreciative scan and then brushed his lips against her cheek. “You are every inch my match.”

“Me, intimidating?” Chloe shook her head, but she liked the idea.

“Beauty can be very formidable.” He stepped into the foyer and glanced through the door to the living room. “May I say hello to your grandmother?”

“Of course.” Chloe led the way through the door.

“You look worthy of my granddaughter,” Grandmillie said.

He smiled and Chloe blessed her grandmother as the tension in his shoulders eased a bit more. “That’s a high compliment,” he said with a slight bow. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a business card and handed it to Grandmillie. “Dr. Cavill will be at the wedding, so I wanted to give you his partner’s direct phone number, just in case you need it. Please don’t hesitate to call for any reason at all.”

Chloe held her breath, but Grandmillie didn’t throw the card in his face. Instead she read the name on it. “Dorothy Scott. Nice solid name, and a woman. I like that.”

Chloe cast a grateful glance at Nathan. She’d arranged for their neighbor Lynda to stop in a couple of times to check on her grandmother, but this was an extra level of care. Evidently Grandmillie was willing to accept it from someone other than Chloe.

He tucked Chloe’s hand in his elbow. “We should be back by eight at the latest.”

“I wish your father much happiness,” Grandmillie said. “He’s fortunate to get a second chance.”

Chloe felt Nathan stiffen as he nodded.

He escorted Chloe out the front door and to the Maserati, opening the door and handing her in. As he steered the car down the narrow residential street, he reached across the gearshift to take her hand in his. Chloe used her other hand to trace along his knuckles. She loved the texture of his skin, the cradling strength of his grip, and the sense of connection she felt.

“I brought the sword,” he said.

She twisted around to see a long, flat leather case lying on the backseat. He’d listened to her. “I think it’s the right thing to do. The family sword should be a part of an important family celebration.”

His grip tightened. “Celebration might be too happy a word.”

“He must be so nervous,” Chloe said.

“The general, nervous?” He slanted her a glance of disbelief.

“He’s going to be a father again after thirty-odd years.”

“Fatherhood didn’t bother him. He just went on as he always did, steamrolling over everyone in his path.”

“Remember what Grandmillie said about second chances? Maybe he’s hoping to be a kinder father this time.” She paused. “I won’t say a better father, because he did something right in raising you.”

He squeezed her hand before letting her go to steer the car through traffic. “I suppose he was a good example of what I didn’t want to be.”

“Sometimes that can be as useful as a role model.” Chloe took a breath. “Maybe he just couldn’t understand that you weren’t like him. Your talents drew you in a direction he hadn’t even thought of.”

“He’s never once come to Trainor Electronics,” Nathan said. His jaw looked as though it was carved from granite.

“So he’s as stiff-necked and stubborn as you are.” But Chloe’s heart broke for him. He’d built something spectacular, and his father wouldn’t acknowledge it with his presence. “But you’ll never convince me he’s not proud of you.”

Nathan made a sound of repudiation. She hoped that the loan of the sword would soften the general’s attitude toward his son. The man must be an idiot if he couldn’t see how magnificent the child he’d raised had become.

“What’s the story behind the sword?” she asked.

“Family lore claims the sword was given to General Nathanael Greene by a British officer who served under Cornwallis in the Revolutionary War.”

“Is that who you’re named after?”

He shook his head. “My name comes from a Confederate general, Nathan Bedford Forrest, whose career my father particularly admires. He was a brilliant tactician, his men loved him, and his name struck fear in his enemies’ hearts.”

“He sounds like a good namesake. But tell me the rest of the sword’s history.”

“The officer gave Nathanael Greene his sword because he was impressed with the superb strategy General Greene displayed in retreating.” Nathan gave a bitter laugh. “Greene presented the sword to one of his subordinates for bravery on the battlefield. That subordinate happened to be my ancestor, William Trainor.”