Isaac had been prepared for her to be there.
Hell, despite it all, he’d wanted to see her, ask how she could live with herself after selling herself out like she had—going to Europe and subtly obtaining information about Power Match and Quantum Ventures that she could now use to bring him down. She’d been so smart. So devious. And he was so damn hurt.
For all that, though, something wasn’t sitting well with him, namely Casey’s undisguised animosity.
Without warning, he shoved back from the table and stood. “Ms. Bass, I’d like to speak to you privately.”
“Step out that door, Casey, and you can follow in recent footsteps. Catch me?” Jim Franks asked in a quiet, firm voice.
Casey hesitated for a split second before she stood, grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled something out before sliding it across the table to her superior. The man read it, his eyes going wide, but she paid him no attention whatsoever. “Outside, Miller.”
He followed her not just outside the conference room, but down the hall and into an office where she began opening drawers and dumping the contents into a giant reusable grocery bag.
Isaac ran a hand around the back of his neck and pulled, trying to exhaust some of the tension racing through him. “I have to admit I don’t have a clue as to what’s going on here.”
“No shit,” Casey muttered. “First intelligent thing I’ve heard you admit.”
“Pardon?”
She rounded on him, and the only thing Isaac could think was that he wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley.
“She worked for more than two years—two years—to recover from what that bastard of an ex-husband did to her. She clawed her way out of the hole he nearly buried her in, and she took a chance on you. Why? Because I pushed her to do it. I should’ve let her rediscover herself a little more slowly—” her eyes shimmered with unshed tears “—but I missed her. I missed the fun-loving, gregarious, always-ready-to-take-a-chance-on-life woman I knew. Or had known.” She pounded a fist over her heart. “She was on her emotional deathbed, and seeing her resurrected? I was selfish, and I wanted more for her. Instead, she got you.”
“Just a damn minute!” Isaac reached out and took the bag from Casey’s hands, stopping her from stuffing it with pens and pencils and Post-it notes. “She lied to me.”
Casey yanked the bag back and resumed stuffing it with anything within reach. “Really? When?”
Isaac opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again. Nothing came out.
Casey laughed, the sound bitter. “That’s right, Captain Intelligence. She didn’t lie to you. She didn’t know she was being assigned to this case. That happened after you two were on your way to Ireland. The girl’s never been out of the country, so she didn’t even think to turn on international calling on her phone. And it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, seeing as she made you a promise that it would be a no-work weekend. Rachel keeps her promises, no matter what.”
A sinking sensation was building in Isaac’s gut, gathering speed with every word Casey spoke.
She looked at him, then, and for the first time he saw compassion on her face. “You really thought she lied to you? That she whored herself out for a promotion.” Casey shook her head, and the first tear broke the dam of her lower lashes, streaking down her cheek. She didn’t bother to wipe it away. “If you knew her at all, you’d know better than to ever assume that of her. The woman is the most loyal, loving, compassionate person I’ve ever met. That you thought so little of her? You don’t deserve her.”
“Where is she?” he asked, voice ragged.
“She got fired for refusing to flip on you.”
She gave up her career. For me. The thing she’d worked for since college, the hours she had put in, the shit she had tolerated, the ground she’d forged toward breaking through that glass ceiling. All gone. All for me.
“You didn’t know,” Casey said softly.
“I swear I had no idea. Where is she now?” He stepped closer and took Casey’s free hand. “Please. I need to... I have to...”
Casey paused and considered him. “Why?”
“Because, I—I...”
“If you can’t say it to me, I don’t trust you to have the balls to say it to her.”
“I need to tell her. I—I have to make this right.”
One corner of her mouth curled up and caught the next tear. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
Isaac looked at this fierce guardian and knew the fastest way to Rachel was through her. So be it. He took a breath and leaped. “I love her, Casey.”
She dug out a Post-it note and jotted down the address. “Go. Now. And don’t screw this up. I don’t look good in prison orange, but I will eviscerate you if you hurt so much as a single hair on her head.”
“I won’t,” he said, starting for the door. He stopped and looked back, curiosity temporarily winning over his desperation. “What was on that piece of paper you handed that guy in the conference room—Franks, I think his name was?”
She grinned, and her beauty shone through the tears. “It was a rather creative, if brief, resignation. It consisted of two words. I’ll let you guess what they were.”
He laughed and yanked open the door, and then, with the address in hand, sprinted down the hall.
Isaac waited for the elevator because forty-six flights of stairs might kill him and he caught the first cab he could hail. He had to repeat the address twice after initially shouting it at the driver and getting nowhere. Finally—finally—the driver pulled away from the curb at breakneck speed when Isaac offered him a one-hundred-dollar bill if he could get there as fast as possible save for a single stop at the nearest convenience store.
He had an apology to offer, some groveling to do and a declaration of love to make.
Pronto.
* * *
Rachel watched The Ellen DeGeneres Show with the knowledge that, if she didn’t get a job soon, cable was going to have to go. Shame, that. She really liked Ellen.
She had just risen from the sofa to retrieve her last pint of Ben & Jerry’s when someone started pounding on her door like the end times were nigh. Of course, she screamed. First, in fear. Then, in anger.
Storming to her door, she let her anger precede her to the peephole. “What the hell is your problem, you psychotic piece of... Isaac?”
“I’ve been called worse,” he said, leaning against the door frame.
“Go to hell,” she said, the words soft but firm, as she turned away, trying valiantly to ignore the shaking and nausea. He had to leave. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t pull herself together, if he was going to come here and berate her, make empty accusations or attempt to destroy the fragile sense of self she’d managed to forge in the fires of her career’s decimation.
“I’ve been living there since we said goodbye at the airport. It sucks. Let me in. We need to talk.”
“I think your last text was pretty clear. Hey, I have an idea. If you want to see me, why don’t you call my pimp? You clearly think I’m for sale—morals, ethics, the whole package. Might as well add my body to the list.” She closed her eyes and waited, hoping to hear the sound of receding footsteps. Instead, a piece of paper slipped under her door.
On it, in clean, crisp penmanship, were two sentences.
You promised me a game. I’m here to collect.
“Don’t do this to me,” she whispered.
A second piece of paper followed.
Five-card stud. One game.
She waited.
Open the door, Rachel.
“No,” she said even more softly.
A fourth piece of paper.
Please.
Isaac Miller rarely said “please.”
With trembling hands and, issuing a quick prayer that this wasn’t the biggest mistake of her life, she opened the do
or.
He looked incredible in his power suit, but his hair was a mess. It looked as if someone had taken a leaf blower to it. She wordlessly gestured to his mop.
He rolled his eyes up and patted his head. “I just took the most harrowing cab ride of my life. Offered the guy a hundred bucks if he’d break every traffic law necessary to get me here in record time. I’m pretty sure there are some traumatized pedestrians out there. I should probably offer to cover their therapy costs.”
“Probably,” she whispered on a wavering smile. “Isaac, what are you doing here?”
“I, uh... I imagine I look like hell.”
“Never.” She hated herself for the admission, but it was the truth. Never would she offer him less.
“May I come in?”
“Why?”
“Honestly? I’m new to apologies and I would imagine there’s going to be some groveling—all mine, I assure you—and I don’t want to do it in public.”
She stepped back and let him in.
He closed the door quietly behind him and stood there, looking more than a little lost.
Everything in her wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but she held fast. If they were going to find their way through this, it had to start with him. And he had to mean it.
Clearing his throat, he took off his jacket. “Where should we do this?”
“Uh, do what?”
He shot her another sheepish grin. “Play cards.”
“Cards? You came here to play cards?” she asked, fully aware her mouth was hanging open.
“You promised me a game.”
“I did, but—”
“Casey said you keep your promises.”
“You met Casey? When? Why?” If her head spun any faster, it would pop off and drill a hole in the ceiling.
“It’s a long story.” He looked around, saw the sofa and headed for it. “This’ll do.”
“Isaac, you can’t just walk in and...and...” She threw her hands in the air. “You can’t just play cards because someone promised you a game.”
“I’d let it go if it was anyone but you. But it’s not. And I can’t. Please, Rachel.”
Arms wrapped around her torso, she sat down across from him and waited.
“You know the rules?” he asked, shuffling the cards.
“I do.”
“I want to change the wager.”
“I’m unemployed, Isaac. I can’t afford to bet.”
He fumbled the shuffle and picked the cards up. “One game. Winner takes all. And if you want me to leave after we’ve played, I’ll go. My word on it.”
Oh, what the hell. It’s not like he can take me to small claims court if I lose.
“Fine. One game. What are we betting?”
“Everything.”
Her gaze shot to his face, but he didn’t look up from his shuffling. Like a pro, he dealt the first card facedown and the second card faceup. She received a three of spades; he had a jack of hearts.
“What are you willing to wager, Rachel?”
“Truth.” She looked at him. “Any question asked is guaranteed an honest answer.”
“Done.”
He dealt the third card.
She received an eight of clubs; he received a ten of hearts.
“Did you stack the deck?” she demanded.
“Nope. You saw me shuffle, drop half the deck and also deal.”
Mumbling random curses on his most prized personal parts, she waved him on.
“What’s the bet, Rachel?”
“Another truth. Same as before.”
“Done.”
He dealt the fourth cards.
She received a six of diamonds; he received a king of hearts.
Rachel closed her eyes. She was going to lose. She knew it. And she’d be stuck answering whatever questions he wanted answered before she could kick him out.
“I’ll bet you a single kiss I’m going to win.”
“No kissing.”
“What would you propose, then?”
“Whoever wins has to...” She couldn’t think, not with him staring at her so earnestly. “Has to reimburse the other for the cost of clothes in Ireland.”
“Done.”
He was going along too easily. Something was up.
He dealt the last card.
She received an ace of spades; he received an ace of hearts.
“What are the odds I would win with a royal flush?” he mused.
She closed her eyes. God, she was dumb, knowing how her luck had been. Letting him in had been a mistake. Still, she picked up her first card and couldn’t help but groan. Jack of clubs. She officially had nothing.
“Go on,” she said, waving toward his hand. “Prove to me how you never lose.”
He folded his cards and put them in the deck.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m folding. You win.”
“What? That’s not how you play this game.”
“It doesn’t matter where the queen of hearts is, Rachel. I know where the queen of my heart is. She’s sitting right across from me. Every other queen? Absolutely, totally, irrevocably irrelevant.” A sad smile played at the corners of his mouth, but he was so serious. “Ask your first truth, Rachel.”
“Did you lie to me? About Ireland. Did you take me because you wanted to or because you knew Date Me was filing suit?”
“Two questions, but I’ll answer both. First, I never lied to you.” He met, and held, her gaze. “Not once. I took you to Ireland because I was desperate to spend the weekend with you.”
“Why?” she asked, hating that her voice cracked, hating that she was showing such weakness in front of him and yet unable to stop herself. “Why me?”
This time, the smile that spread across his face was warm. “Have you seen yourself? My God, Rachel. You’re incredible. Amazing. Wonderful. Funny, warm and caring. Charming. Smart as hell. A vixen between the sheets. A powerhouse mind who can hold her own in any conversation. You’re the whole package, Rach. The real deal.”
Her face flushed and, despite her fierce admonition that she would not cry, a single tear broke free. She swiped at it, angry he’d reduced her to the weepy woman. She was stronger than that, and he needed to know it. “I hate you for that—that single tear. Just so you know.”
He nodded. “You have every reason to hate me. I acted like a complete ass. But I realized something when I was at your firm and it was Casey, not you, who walked through that door. I wanted to rage that I wasn’t getting to see you just one more time. And that’s when it hit me. One more time would never, ever be enough.”
He moved to her slowly and held out a hand, waiting for her to come to him.
“I’m scared,” she admitted, voice thick with emotion as she took his hand.
“So am I. It’s part of the thrill, I think.”
She laughed a nervous laugh, the sound escaping before she could swallow it down.
He just looked at her with undisguised affection, running one hand through her hair and working out the tangles with tender attention. “I need you, Rachel. There’s a difference between want and need. I definitely want you. History proved that repeatedly.” And he had the grace to blush. “But I need you even more than I want you.” He pulled her close then, wrapping her in the warm safety of his arms. “I’m asking you to trust me,” he said with his lips against her temple. “Give me a chance to prove that I’m the man who will fight for you, who will go to bat for you, who will always have your back.”
“What about the lawsuit? I’m still liable to be called into that mess.”
He shook his head. “I pulled the funding on the project and made an offer to settle out of court.”
“Isaac!” she said, pulling away. “You can’t do that to you
r brother!”
“I can, and I did. I won’t expose you to any additional risk or put your career in jeopardy.”
“I don’t have a career. I was, well...they tried to fire me. But I quit.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, pride saturating every word.
“Wait. You’re proud of me?” She was so confused she didn’t know which way to turn.
“No one gets to treat my woman like I hear they treated you.”
“Casey,” she growled.
“Also an excellent choice in friends. She’s by you in this, too, and didn’t hesitate at all when she threatened me within an inch of my life if I hurt a single hair on your head.”
Mind reeling, Rachel stood and went into the tiny kitchen to make a cup of tea. Not that she wanted it. She just needed something to do, anything that would keep her mind off what was going on between her and Isaac. But the damn Keurig gave her less than ninety seconds to sort her mind out before the tea was done and she had to face him.
Turning, she gasped and would have spilled the tea had he not been there to intercept her fumble. He stood so close she could smell his cologne, faint but woody.
“I want to give you the world, Rachel.”
“It was just a poker game,” she whispered.
“It was never just a game. Not to me.” He reached out, hesitated and let out a breath she didn’t know he’d been holding when she laid her cheek in his palm. “You are my chance at redemption, the opportunity to be happy. I can’t lose that. I won’t lose you.” Tracing a thumb along her cheek, he continued. “I realized something today, something that seems impossible in such a short time. But there’s no other explanation.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m falling in love with you, Rachel Sullivan, and I don’t want or need to control it. I just want to experience it. All of it. With you.” And he kissed her.
Shock rocked her to the core, making her slow to respond.
He leaned back, and she saw authentic fear in his eyes.
“Isaac,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She kissed him then, reveling in the feel of his lips against hers, the way he felt beneath her roving hands. She’d never thought she’d experience this—him—again, and yet here he was.
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