Heels of Steel

by Barbara Kavovit

  Financially, he didn’t really need it. His company was worth more than it had ever been before. But, as Leela had pointed out, at two million square feet and nearly fifty stories, it was easily a half a billion dollar job and he’d be a fool to ignore it. It would only make the business stronger and that much more of a powerhouse.

  And then someday Alli could inherit the company just like he had.

  The thought made him pause. He knew he’d been lucky, but he also knew that, for him, there had never been another choice. Did he want to put the same burden on his daughter? Did he want to make her eat, sleep and breathe this business?

  And what about Bridget? He hadn’t met a woman like that in...well, maybe ever, now that he thought about it. She was smart and funny and brash and sexy as hell. And mercurial—that woman changed from cold to hot in a split second, and god damn if it didn’t turn him on. He hadn’t felt that attracted to anyone for years. Since Hana left he had sometimes wondered if that part of him had been swept away with all the rest of the things she took: the good towels, the Cuisinart and his ability to really want a woman. He worried that he had become broken beyond repair. Not that he hadn’t had a few flings over the past year, some one-night stands, dated here and there—but all that had felt like work more than anything. Work to pay attention, work to fake real interest, work not to compare them to Hana. But last night he had felt like a high school student again—almost everything Bridget said and did had made him rock-hard.

  Well, you can forget about all that if you steal her job, buddy.

  Maybe it wasn’t worth it. Maybe he should just bow out and give her one less real contender to worry about. She obviously needed it; working for those god damned Ludley brothers had to be a nightmare. And sure, there would be other companies up for the job, but Russo Construction stepping out of the way would certainly increase her chances...

  He thought about what Leela would say if he told her he didn’t want Russo Construction to respond to the RFP. She would murder him. He wondered what his father would do. Actually, he knew what his father would do—he’d get the job, come hell or high water. The company always came first. He’d taught him that from day one.

  “Dad?” He heard the front door slam and his daughter’s voice echoed from the front hallway. “Dad? You here?”

  He turned, alarmed. “Alli? What are you doing home? Why aren’t you at school?”

  She looked at him, her eyes half-closed. There was a definite tinge of green to her skin. “Daddy, I don’t feel so great. Lulu’s mom made this chicken thing last night and it wasn’t really cooked all the way and—” Suddenly, her eyes flew open and she clamped her hands over her mouth, desperately pushing past him and into the bathroom.

  Chapter 20

  There is nothing to be nervous about, Bridget reminded herself for the fifth time in a row. Harrington said you didn’t need to have anything prepared. This is just him showing you the rendering. Feeling you out. Letting you know the scope of the project. You just have to smile and nod and sound like you know what you’re talking about—which you do. You can do this with your hands tied behind your back, sister. Pull it together.

  “Ms. Steele?” The pretty young assistant behind the massive glass desk looked up at her. “Mr. Harrington is ready for you now. Just through there.”

  Bridget stood up, her heart beating double time, and smoothed her cream-colored YSL suit down over her hips. She’d chosen a fitted jacket with wide-legged pants, three-inch Manolos and had her hair blown out into sleek waves. Yes, there was a touch of lipstick and an inch or so of cleavage just to hedge her bets, but Harrington had called her, after all. She didn’t have to show it all. She already had his attention.

  The door to his office slid open at her touch. Mark Harrington was already up from behind his desk, ready with a firm handshake and a gentle palm on her shoulder to steer her toward a comfortable sitting area facing a sixty-inch flat screen.

  “Ms. Steele—” his voice was warm and deep “—thank you so much for making the time to see me.”

  “My pleasure,” said Bridget. “Thank you for giving us this opportunity.”

  There was no “us” yet, of course, thought Bridget, but if she pulled off this meeting, she’d make damned sure there would be.

  She had been expecting someone chubby and schlumpy with the five-thousand-dollar suit, de rigueur hair plugs and overly tanned hide of most of the Manhattan developer set, but this guy was a silver fox. Tall and powerfully built, with a strong jaw, ice-blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled and a thick head of white hair. When he leaned in toward her, she smelled leather, musk and a hint of dark chocolate.

  “Nice office,” she forced herself to say, looking around at the silver leaf columns and the polished concrete floor.

  “Thank you. I paid an arm and a leg for Gensler to send in some guy with much better taste than me to come and create this. If I’d been left on my own, there would probably be nothing but fishing trophies and La-Z-Boys.”

  He laughed loudly at his own joke and suddenly Bridget felt better. He might be good-looking, he might hold the keys to her future in his hand, but no one who laughed at their own lame joke could be too intimidating.

  He sat down on the Eames recliner next to her and flipped on the television screen. “So,” he said, “I hear you’re very good at what you do.”

  Bridget nodded. “Yes, I am.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So confidence isn’t a problem, huh? Listen, I did my homework. This project is too important to waste time with any lightweights. I know your story. And I know how much you’ve accomplished. And from what I’ve heard, you got the short end of the stick when your company went down.”

  She nodded, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain more.

  “I also know that you’re working for the Ludley brothers now, but if you got this contract, I’m wondering just how you think you’d pull together this size of a project. I want to be clear—I am not interested in working with Linus and Larry. I need someone who can really think outside the box. I am interested in only you.”

  She didn’t even hesitate. “It won’t be a problem. I haven’t signed anything with them. I’m a consultant on retainer. And as for the infrastructure, I built it once, I can do it again.”

  He cocked his head. “Well, that’s saying a lot.”

  She nodded. “I’m proud of the team that I had.”

  “So—” his eyes met hers “—tell me why you should be considered for this project.”

  “Building is all about taking a plan, understanding every single component and obstacle that will go into making it happen and knowing how to put them together. And I can do that faster and smarter than anyone.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I am all about the details. I notice things no one else does. I foresee problems and solve them before they interfere with schedule or budget. My communication with the men is crystal-clear. I make sure they know exactly what I want and how to give it to the project. My jobs always come in on time, and I can anticipate possible cost overruns and design flaws before they occur, which will save you time and money. I know every page of the construction documents backward and forward. We pass every inspection and my clients are always happy.”

  He looked at her, considering. “That all sounds good but how I can be sure it’s true?”

  She nodded. “Because honestly, I would not still be in this business in any capacity if it wasn’t true. I need to be five times better than the average company run by a man to be considered an equal, so that means I have to be ten times better to win the projects. I can’t afford to make a mistake. I don’t have room to mess around.” She held up her hand. “Now, I know I had some bumps in the road, but as you said, I got the short end of the stick. I want back in, and this project would make it possible. You know the renovation for L’Oréal’s corporate hea
dquarters?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That was excellent work.”

  “I built that. How about Simon and Schuster?”

  He pursed his lips, impressed. “Yours?”

  “Mine.”

  “Also, the entire five floors of law offices for Murphy and Jacowitz on Park Avenue, the reno on the Museum of Math and Science in SoHo, the Colicchio chain of bakeries. Mine. Mine. Mine. Shall I go on?”

  He locked eyes with her and she felt a little shiver run down her back. It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling. “Not necessary,” he said. “I told you, I already did my homework. I know what you’re capable of, Ms. Steele.”

  She nodded again. “Anyway, I’m very excited to see the rendering.”

  He smiled and picked up a remote control. “Yes, ma’am.”

  As he fiddled with the remote control, Bridget sat back against the couch and took a deep breath. This was a huge moment for her—it was the chance to get back everything she’d lost. And for a split second she thought, I wish I could call Dad and tell him about this.

  “These are just a few of the preliminary renderings.” Harrington’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Obviously, we’re still very early in the process.”

  She examined the renderings, feeling a pang of disappointment. The images he was showing her were nondescript. A basic, tubular gray high-rise with the expected amount of steel and glass thrown in. It looked like a dozen other buildings in Manhattan.

  But the point is, this is the one you would build, she reminded herself.

  Harrington used the mouse on his computer to point out different things. “Fifty stories, West Chelsea. We’ll be taking down two previously existing buildings to make space. We’re hoping to do it in two and a half years, from demo to ribbon cutting.”

  Bridget gave a low whistle. “That’s fast.”

  He turned toward her, his ice-blue eyes meeting hers. “I thought you said you were better and faster than anyone?”

  She laughed. “I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m just saying it’s fast, even for me. But go ahead, tell me more.”

  Harrington took her through each floor, describing what HealthTec envisioned. “This will be more than just their campus. This building will be the concrete symbol of their entire business. They’ve done research—people like HealthTec’s availability and responsiveness and price points, but everyone says the same thing—HealthTec is faceless. Given the choice, they would never go to them for their day-to-day health needs. HeathTec can put as many friendly doctors willing to Skype with you online as they want—but people still feel like they’re dealing with an uncaring corporation.”

  “They miss the human touch,” said Bridget.

  “Exactly.”

  Bridget raised her eyebrows. “And this building is somehow supposed to solve all that?”

  “It’s going to be more than a building. It’s going to be a place where miracles will happen. Where sick children come to get well. Where dedicated scientists work on new, futuristic ways to cure deadly diseases.”

  “Where the shareholders in HealthTec rake in billions of dollars while they enjoy a really nice view of the Hudson.”

  Harrington laughed. “Yeah. That, too.”

  Bridget held up her hands. “No judgment. If they can do both, more power to them. But if they’re hanging so much on this one building—don’t you think they’d somehow want to make it more...distinctive?”

  Harrington turned his eyes toward her. “What do you mean?”

  Bridget shifted in her seat, wondering if she was about to say too much. “I just mean...you’d think they’d want it to stand out a little more, be something that really makes you stop and look? Maybe something with curves and angles, twisting planes that create figure eights like DNA strands? Something that telegraphs the amazing medical-related phenomena that are supposed to be going on inside. Skyscrapers were originally designed to connect earth to sky, you know? They were meant to create awe and wonder. This building doesn’t look like a place where miracles happen. It just looks kind of like old-school, old design. Apartments or ad agencies, insurance offices—”

  Harrington frowned. “Insurance offices? I thought you were a contractor, not an architect.”

  She shook her head. “I know. It’s outside my purview, but I just thought maybe you’d like some honest criticism. I told you that I notice details, right? This design is generic—it simply doesn’t stand out.”

  Harrington aimed the remote control at the screen and the image disappeared with a faint little snip sound. “Well, thank you, Ms. Steele. We will definitely take your thoughts into consideration.”

  For a moment Bridget couldn’t speak. She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “Wait, listen, I’m sorry if I somehow stepped over the line, I only meant—”

  He cut her off. His face was a mask. “Not at all. I just have another appointment I need to move on to.”

  “But I still have some questions. I mean, we didn’t really finish discussing—”

  He held out his hand for her to shake. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. We’ll be in touch.”

  Bridget swallowed hard, stood up and took his hand, willing herself not to dig herself in any deeper. “It was a great pleasure meeting you, Mr. Harrington. I hope that we talk again soon.”

  “I’m sure we will, Ms. Steele.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

  Bridget felt numb as she let herself out of his office. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She’d had the opportunity of a lifetime and she had completely screwed herself.

  Chapter 21

  Jay’s heart skipped when the office door slid open and Bridget Steele stepped out. He had been hoping against hope that he wouldn’t run into her here. He knew that Harrington had appointments all day—what were the chances that he’d overlap with Bridget?

  Obviously, better than he had anticipated.

  For a moment she didn’t seem to see him, and he had a split second to look at her unobserved. She looked sophisticated and professional and god damned gorgeous. Her tailored suit jacket couldn’t hide her curves, and her hair was pulled back and her face nearly bare of makeup—except for the dark red lipstick that made her full lips look so tempting that he found himself imagining the way the color might smear when he kissed her, the marks she might leave over his body...

  But then her eyes met his and she looked...furious. Like, underneath that hard-as-nails veneer, there was something bleeding and raw—an animal in a trap, chewing off its own tail.

  At first, he thought the fury was directed at him—for stepping into the competition. And for a moment he thought, I shouldn’t have come. This was her big chance; it was unprecedented she was even invited back to the table; I shouldn’t stand in her way...

  But then out of nowhere, he remembered the last time he was at the office with his father. Retirement was just around the corner and even though he had worked at Russo Construction for years, his dad seemed frantic, as if there was so much left to learn. “Mondays we go over the books,” his father had said.

  “Yes, Dad, I know.”

  “And listen, Lane Percy will sometimes take more sick days than he’s allotted if you let him—but there’s nothing wrong with the guy except that he’s lazy. You gotta call him out. Remember that.”

  “Yeah, Dad, I know Lane.”

  His dad opened his mouth to tell him something else, but Jason cut him off. “Dad, listen, really. I’ve got this. You don’t have to worry.”

  For a moment his dad stared at him, and Jason inwardly shuddered, seeing how old and lost he looked. “This company is everything,” his father finally said. “My father spent his whole life building it up, and his father before him, and now me. Tell me that you know that, Jay. Tell me that you understand that the company always comes first, no matter what.”

  And Jason
had nodded, taken his dad’s hand and promised. He would make the company everything.

  And he had. He’d lost his marriage, alienated his daughter, but the company always came first. And that rule couldn’t just crumble for some woman he’d just met, no matter how attractive he found her to be.

  He looked back into Bridget’s face, steeling himself for her reaction. And that was the moment that he realized she wasn’t even looking at him with any recognition. She was staring right through him.

  “Bridget?” He spoke before he thought. “You okay?”

  She blinked and her eyes focused for a moment. She looked confused. “Jason? Why? What are you—” And then understanding seemed to dawn. Spots of color mounted in her cheeks as her mouth hardened.

  “Right,” she gritted out. “Right. Well, go ahead. It’s all yours now.” Then she swept out the exit.

  Harrington’s receptionist stared as the door slammed behind Bridget. Then she looked at Jason. “What in the world did you do to her?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  Jason sighed and shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

  * * *

  Hana was still at the apartment when Jason got back, which was the last thing he wanted to deal with. Despite the fact that the meeting with Mark had gone well—in fact, Mark had asked him to submit a preliminary budget for the existing design—all he could think about was Bridget. The look on her face when she realized he was there, the way she had walked past him. Obviously, things must have gone badly between her and Harrington.

  “Hey,” said Hana as he came into the kitchen. She was sitting at the island, doodling on a piece of scratch paper, her hair pulled back into a long braid. For a moment Jason could almost pretend that the past year hadn’t happened. Here was his wife—ex-wife, his brain immediately corrected—in their home, their daughter in her room, a little sick, but basically safe and sound.