Kitabı oku: «It Happened in Manhattan», sayfa 3

Three

If she thought her day couldn’t get any worse, she was wrong. She ran into Ford in the elevator bay.

“Fantastic,” she muttered as she punched the elevator button. “Thousands of people work in this building and I get to ride down with you.”

“I waited for you.”

“How kind.” She didn’t bother to meet his gaze or to inject any real graciousness in her voice. She certainly hoped he wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t hear her sarcasm.

“I wanted to apologize.” He seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth.

Well, she certainly wasn’t going to make this any easier for him. “For your behavior earlier?” she asked as the elevator doors began to open. She prayed there’d be someone else in the car with them, but her prayers went unanswered. Which was the norm of late. “Don’t worry. I didn’t expect better behavior from you. After all, I know what Californians are like.”

It was a twist of something he’d said to her at that bar in Texas, when he’d teased her about being a Yankee. His gaze flickered to hers and for a second they seemed to both be remembering that night.

Damn it, why had she brought that up? She didn’t want to remind him about that. She certainly didn’t want him to think she remembered that night with anything approaching word for word accuracy.

“What I meant,” he said, following her into the elevator, “was that the meeting seemed hard for you. I can’t imagine it’s easy to sell a company that’s been in your family for generations.”

She shot him a scathing look. “Please don’t tax your mental capacity trying to imagine it.”

The doors closed, sealing them inside. For a moment he thought she’d say nothing more, just ride with him in silence. Maybe this was it. Maybe she really was as cool a number as she’d seemed in the boardroom. Maybe selling her family company meant nothing more to her than—

Then abruptly she let loose a bitter laugh.

Okay, maybe not.

“You want to know the really funny thing?” she asked as she punched the 1 button. “This is exactly what I was raised to do.”

“Run Biedermann’s?” he asked.

“Oh, God, no. Don’t get me wrong. My father adored me. Treated me like an absolute princess. But he never thought I was capable of running Bieder-mann’s. I was supposed to transform myself into the perfect wife. I was supposed to catch myself a rich husband to run Biedermann’s for me.”

She slanted him a look as if to assess his reaction. Her tongue darted out to slip along her lower lip and his body tightened in response. He was not supposed to want her. This was about business. Not sex. Now, if only his body would get that memo.

Apparently she’d gotten it though, because she continued on as if the energy between them wasn’t charged with the memory of soul-scalding sex.

She shook her head wryly. “His attitude was archaic, but there you have it.”

“So you decided to prove him wrong,” he surmised.

“No, I didn’t even do that. I really tried to marry the perfect man to take over Biedermann’s. I had him all picked out. Even got him to propose.” When the elevator doors didn’t shut fast enough for her liking she started punching the close button repeatedly. “He just decided to marry someone else instead. I won’t bore you with the details of my love life. Not when they’re available online in several different gossip columns.”

The elevator started to drop and again she laughed.

“See, that’s the funny part, right? Flash-forward a year. I’ve made a complete mess running Biedermann’s, just like my father predicted. You swoop in to rescue the company. FMJ is going to take care of everything. But—” she hastily added, as if he were about to argue with her. “I’ll still get to play at being president of the company. You’ll be watching over my shoulder, so there’s no chance I’ll make things worse. I’ll just get to sit there, looking good, while a big strong man fixes things for me. It’s the job I was raised to do.”

“Kitty—” he began, but the doors opened and she cut him off as they did.

“My father would be so proud.”

She said it with the cavalier indifference of someone who was truly in pain. But damn, she was good at hiding it.

If he hadn’t met her under other circumstances, if he’d never seen her with her guard down, he’d probably even be fooled. But as it was, he saw right through her.

If she’d been weeping and moping, maybe he could have ignored her despair. Or handed her off into the care of someone who knew her better. But these bitter self-recriminations … well, he remembered how he’d felt after his father died. The grief, the anger, the guilt, all rolled into one. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

He fell into step beside her, and said, “Look, you’re going through a hard time. You shouldn’t be alone tonight. It’s Friday night. Why not let me take you out for—”

“It’s not necessary. I have plans.”

“Plans?” he asked. “After a day like today?”

She waved a hand, still putting on a brave face. “It’s something I couldn’t get out of. A commitment from weeks ago.”

He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to supply more information.

Finally she added, “It’s a fundraiser for The Children’s Medical Foundation. At The Pierre. Very posh. You wouldn’t be comfortable there,” she finished dismissively.

She was either trying to insult him or she’d made up the engagement to put him off. He didn’t believe for a minute that she planned on going to this charity event, even if she had bought the tickets months ago. She was just trying to get rid of him. But he couldn’t stand the thought of her all alone, wallowing in her misery.

“Great.” Why not pretend to buy her story? “I’ll come with you.”

She shot him a look icy enough to freeze his eyebrows off.

Okay, so he couldn’t exactly imagine Kitty wallowing in anything. Here in New York she was as cool and collected as they came.

But he’d seen her outside her element. He’d seen her vulnerable. He knew that a passionate, emotional woman lurked beneath the surface of her icy cool perfection. If he peeled back the layers to reveal that woman, he’d probably find someone who could use a shoulder to cry on.

Kitty stopped in the lobby, ignoring the other people filtering out onto the street. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I don’t have plans.”

“Your partner—”

“Has a teleconference with some people in China.” “Who called a meeting for a Saturday morning?” she pressed.

“You know what they say.” He flashed a smile. “If you don’t come in on Saturday, don’t bother coming in on Sunday, either.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

But she wasn’t. He could see the strain in the lines around her eyes and in the tightness of her mouth. Of course, there was a chance his attempt to be kind was only making matters worse, but his gut told him to keep pushing. He was almost past her defenses, but charm alone wouldn’t get her to open up. He needed to change tactics.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “You don’t want to be with me.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re probably afraid of how you feel about me.” A lock of her hair had fallen free of its twist. He reached out and gave it a quick tug before tucking it behind her ear. He let his fingers linger there, at the sensitive place along the back of her ear.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not going to work.”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“You’re trying to bait me,” she accused.

“Hey, I understand. You don’t want to be alone with me. Can’t say I blame you.” He dropped his eyes to her lips. He let himself remember what it had been like to kiss her. To feel her breath hot on his skin. When he met her gaze again, he knew she remembered it, too. “It’s probably wise. We should spend as little time together as possible.”

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat and her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. Then she seemed to shake off the effects. Her eyes narrowed in obvious annoyance. “Fine.” She turned and started to walk away. “If you’re so desperate for something to do tonight that you’ll pull that cheap trick, you can come along. But don’t blame me if tickets to this fundraiser are outrageously expensive at the last minute.”

He smiled as he fell into step beside her. The spark was back in her eyes. The bite was back in her words. She’d be fine.

“I’ll pick you up at your place,” he offered.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do,” she countered. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to tell you where I live, do you?”

“You don’t honestly believe I don’t already know, do you?”

She turned and shot him an assessing stare. “You know where I live? What did you do, hire a private investigator?”

“I didn’t have to. Jonathon has a whole team that researches that kind of thing when we’re looking to acquire a company.”

“I don’t know whether to be creeped out or impressed.” She reached the street and raised her hand to hail a cab, but this time of night the streets were packed. “Creeped out wins, I think.”

“This is just company policy.”

“What, all’s fair in love and war?” she asked with an edge to her voice.

“This isn’t love or war. This is business.”

He held her gaze as firmly as he said it.

She jerked her gaze away from his, turning her attention to the passing cabs on the street. “This may be only business to you. But for me, it’s both love and war. I love Biedermann’s. And I’ve spent the last six months fighting for its survival. This may not be personal for you, but it’s deeply personal for me.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. Like she hadn’t meant to admit that. Or maybe she just wasn’t used to talking about her emotions.

After a minute he said, “Maybe that’s part of the problem.”

“Part of what problem?” He was about to respond, but she stopped him before he could. “And don’t you dare tell me that ‘the problem’ is that I care too much. That I’m too emotionally involved to make rational decisions. Because I don’t believe that my emotional state has anything to do with the flagging economy or the fact that malls across America are doing lower volume sales across the board.” Her voice rose as she spoke, betraying her frustration. “If I could miraculously turn off my emotions and stop caring about Biedermann’s, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. So if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to go right on caring passionately about—”

Her voice cracked and she started blinking rapidly. Like she was trying to hold back tears.

He reached out a hand to her. “Kitty, I’m sorry—”

But a cab finally pulled up before he could finish the sentence. “Don’t be sorry,” she ordered as she opened the door. “Just find a way to fix it. Because if you can’t, then we’re both screwed.”

She didn’t look back as she climbed into the cab. He watched her go in silence.

She was one tough cookie.

Every other woman he knew was more in touch with her emotions. Or—he corrected himself—maybe just more willing to use her emotions to get what she wanted. Any one of his sisters would have been boo-hooing up a storm halfway through the meeting. But Kitty had just sat there in silence. Listening to every word that was said, but commenting little herself.

If it hadn’t been for her outburst in the elevator, he might never have known how upset she truly was. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known. She wasn’t willing to use tears to get what she wanted. He had to admire that.

But in other ways, Kitty was exactly like the other women he knew. She herself had admitted that she’d been on the lookout for a rich husband.

But somehow the poor bastard had slipped away. Or the lucky bastard, as the case may be. Frankly, he didn’t know whether to feel sorry for the guy or not. Kitty was a hell of a woman.

Sure, he’d used steak knives that were less sharp than her tongue, but for him, that was part of her charm. He had enough women in his life that he had to walk on eggshells around. Thank God he didn’t want to get married. Otherwise he might be tempted to drop to his knees and propose right now. He nearly chuckled imagining the scathing response that would earn him.

Ford had developed a certain cynicism about the institution at a very young age. He’d been about nine or ten when he first discovered that his father had a long-term girlfriend living one town over. Eventually, that girlfriend had developed into a second family, complete with two curly-haired little girls, quite close in age to his own sister.

At first the way his father balanced both families disgusted Ford. By the time he reached adulthood himself, it was no longer his father’s behavior that troubled him. By then he’d realized both his mother and the other woman knew about each other. They’d been content to let the situation slide. As long as there was enough money to go around.

Since his father’s death, Patrice and Suz had become friends in some sick little way. As for the girls, they now treated each other like the sisters they were. He seemed to be the only one who found the situation odd.

Now, standing on the curb watching the spot where Kitty’s taxi had disappeared into the night, Ford nearly laughed himself. If she thought her revelation about her family would scare him off, she had another think coming. His family had more drama than a Greek tragedy.

Ford tucked his hands into his pockets and started walking toward the nearest subway station. It wasn’t far back to the hotel and it was a nice night. He might as well enjoy the weather.

Only then did he feel the earring still in his pocket. It was just as well he hadn’t returned it to her today. She might have been tempted to cram it down his throat.

Kitty’s apartment, a walk-up in the eclectic Murray Hill neighborhood, surprised him. He’d have pegged her for an Upper East Side girl, or at the very least he imagined her in some glossy new high-rise. Instead, she lived in a prewar building that had seen better years.

When she let him into her fourth-floor apartment she wasn’t dressed yet. She left him waiting in her living room for nearly an hour. Probably just to tick him off.

Her apartment was smaller than he’d expected, sparsely furnished with a few antiques. With the exception of a couple of framed black-and-white family pictures, the walls were bare. Either her taste was minimalist or she hadn’t lived here long.

Ford spent the time hanging out on the sofa, first answering his e-mail on his iPhone, then reviewing some specs Matt had sent him, and then finally playing Tetris on his phone.

He might have left, but the truth was, the tension was palpable. Too much remained unsaid between them. Under any other circumstances, he would have let it slide, being something of an expert on unresolved emotional issues. But with Kitty, it was different. He’d never before been in a position where he’d have to work with a woman he’d slept with. The last thing he wanted was some emotional complication mucking up the coming negotiations. If she was going to have a problem working with him, he wanted to clear the air now.

Finally her bedroom door opened to reveal Kitty encased in a shimmering deep purple gown with a low-cut, heart-shaped neckline. Her dark hair fell in sleek waves about her shoulders. He nearly laughed at the expression of surprise that flickered across her face when she spied him.

He stood. “You look lovely.”

She fell into step beside him, not bothering to suppress an exasperated sigh. “You’re still here.”

“Much to your disappointment, I’m sure.” He put a hand at her back to guide her to the door, only to discover a generous expanse of naked skin.

“Not at all,” she murmured, suddenly all charm. “I had trouble with my zipper. You can’t imagine how worried I was you might get tired of waiting and leave.”

“Trouble with your zipper? For over an hour?”

“It’s a long zipper.”

He leaned away to look pointedly at the back of her dress. A delicate triad of beaded straps criss-crossed at her shoulders. Her skin was left bare all the way to just below her waist. The sparkling fabric molded to her bottom before falling in a straight line to the floor. Just over the crest of her bottom he could see the faint outline of the zipper hidden in the seam. It couldn’t have been more than four inches long.

“So I see.”

Kitty was no scrawny fashion model. She had a body that managed to be both slender and voluptuous. Her bottom was lusciously rounded. Just looking at it made his blood throb with lust.

She elbowed him in a way that was both playful and seductive. “Stop looking at my zipper,” she murmured huskily as she locked her door.

He shrugged as they started down the stairs. “If you don’t want people looking at your zipper, you shouldn’t display it quite so prominently.”

“That’s sexist,” she chided.

“No, it would be sexist if we were at work and I ordered you to display your zipper. Or I hired you or fired you based on the size of your zipper. But this is a social situation, so I don’t think either of those apply. Besides, a woman doesn’t wear a dress like that unless she wants to be looked at.”

He hailed a cab when they reached the street.

Kitty frowned, her bottom lip jutting forward in a pout. “Oh. We’re going in a cab. How … prosaic.”

“I try to avoid hiring a driver when I come to the city. They spend too much time looking for parking and driving around. It’s a waste of gas and resources.” He held open the cab door for her, admiring the swath of leg revealed as she slid into the car.

“Hmm. Like I said. How prosaic.”

He climbed in beside her. “Being aware of the environment isn’t prosaic.” A hint of his annoyance slipped into his tone. “FMJ has made most of its money in green industries. Our image as a green company is a priority. Not just for the company, but for all of us.”

She yawned delicately, but with obvious boredom. Annoyed by her attitude, he nearly called her on it, but before he could, it hit him. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

She looked taken aback. “I … I don’t know what you mean. Doing what?”

“This.” He gestured toward her body-skimming dress. “The sexpot dress. The self-indulgent pout. The childish behavior. It’s all a way of keeping me off balance.”

She blinked, and he couldn’t tell if he’d insulted her or if she was merely surprised he’d seen through her. “You’re just trying to distract me. To avoid that conversation we need to have.”

“However did you get that idea?”

“Probably because you’ve been pushing me away ever since I walked into the conference room today. You’ve made it obvious that you don’t want to relinquish control of Biedermann’s. You may have fooled everyone else into thinking that’s the only thing going on. But I can see right through you. I know the truth.”

Oh, God. What did he mean? He knew the truth? What truth? That she was a total fraud? That she had no idea what she was doing?

He leaned closer, a seductive grin on his face. “I know what you’re really afraid of.”

“Afraid of?” she squeaked.

He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, once again sparking the desire that heated her blood every time he touched her.

She should not be attracted to him. He was so not what she needed right now. Or ever, for that matter. Geesh, he wasn’t even wearing a tux. Okay, so he looked fabulous in an Armani jacket thrown over a gray cashmere sweater and black pants. And, yes, the understated elegance of his outfit made him look outrageously masculine. Never mind that he carried it off. Never mind that the day’s worth of stubble on his jaw made her fingertips tingle with the urge to touch him. Never mind that she could tell already all the other men at the fundraiser would look overdressed and foppish by comparison. She couldn’t possibly be attracted to a man who didn’t even know when to wear a tie.

“Yes,” he continued. “You’re afraid of the attraction between us.”

As his words registered, she was flooded with an odd sense of relief. He was still talking about sex. About what had happened between them in Texas.

Maybe it shouldn’t have made her feel better, but somehow it did. Physical intimacy she could handle. Men had been pursuing her since she hit puberty. She knew how to handle that. She knew how to entice without promising anything. To lure and manipulate a man while staying just out of his reach.

What she didn’t know was how to handle a man who was interested in her. Not her body. Not her net worth, but her.

Thank God, Ford was proving no different than any other man she’d ever met. She’d learned long ago the secret to keeping men at arm’s length.

The mere suggestion of sex was enough to distract the average man. The possibility that you might one day have sex with him made most men so befuddled they never bothered to look beneath the surface.

To that end, she let herself sway toward him slightly, as if she couldn’t resist his draw. Then she ran her tongue over the spot on her lip that he’d touched. It was a gesture sure to entice him, but she found it disconcertingly intimate. She could almost taste him on her tongue.

Suddenly memories flooded her of their one night together. How could she have forgotten what it had been like to kiss him? To feel his hands on her body? To give herself over so completely to his touch?

She felt her breath catch in her chest, found herself leaning toward him, not in a calculated way, but as if he were a magnet and the heart pounding away in her chest were made of iron, pulling her inexorably toward him.

He cleared his throat, breaking the spell he seemed to have cast over her. Nodding toward the cab door on her side, he said, “We’re here.”

When had that happened? Damn him. She was supposed to be distracting him. Not the other way around.

Feeling befuddled, she looked from him to the crowded street outside her window, to the cab driver rattling off the fare. Her mind was embarrassingly sluggish, but finally she got moving.

Staying one step ahead of Ford was going to be harder than she’d thought. This was going to take some serious work.

Then just when it seemed like things couldn’t get any worse, a camera flashed a few feet away. Great. Just what she needed.

Paparazzi.