Commandeering the floor while Brandt was still sugaring his coffee, she opened by laying it out for Hawthorne. The contract terms, the company’s liability, the ugly lawsuit that would ensue if they refused to pay.
She followed that up with the media play-by-play. The Anderson Cooper interview she’d do beside Adam. The Wall Street Journal headline: “Too-Big-to-Fail Hawthorne Reneges on Its Policies.” The 60 Minutes segment featuring the media darling’s battle with the insurance behemoth.
Then she outlined the damage: tumbling stock prices, balking policyholders, dwindling profits in advance of the inevitable takeover.
When all that had sunk in, she announced their terms: Pay up in thirty days. Or else.
It took less than ten minutes. Hawthorne and his sidekick hustled out of the room.
Adam favored Maddie with a smile. “I think Brandt wet his pants.”
She snapped her briefcase shut. “Fifty bucks says he’s never set foot in a courtroom. Hawthorne brought him along to play up the old-money angle. ‘Look at us, with our blond hair and white teeth and country club parties.’” She snorted. “Why they’d think that would intimidate you, I can’t imagine.”
He held the door for her. “That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“Sure, if ballbuster’s a compliment.”
“I concede that title to you. Hawthorne’s icing his as we speak.”
She shrugged. “We surprised them. Now that he knows I’m involved, he’ll quit the shenanigans. He’ll trade in the pretty boy for someone who knows his stuff, and then he’ll either face facts and roll over, or he’ll let that big ego of his call the shots and we’ll end up in court.”
“Either way, we’ll prevail.” Adam sounded dead certain.
Despite herself, she puffed up, flattered by his confidence. He’d held back during the meeting, letting her take the ball. She appreciated it as the mark of a pro. He knew enough to bring in an expert and then let that expert call the plays.
A casual observer would have described him as confident, in-charge, and ultimately unconcerned, as if, win or lose, his ego wasn’t in the balance. Since she knew that wasn’t entirely true, she had to admire his panache. Not to mention his genius in bringing her on board. It might qualify as the worst thing to happen in her adult life, but for Adam’s purposes, it was brilliant.
She slid into the limo, tossed her briefcase onto the opposite seat. Out on the sidewalk, Adam said to Fredo, “Stop at the first Starbucks. Bold for me.” He poked his head into the limo. “Early in the day for a celebratory drink, but I’ll spring for Starbucks.”
“Skinny mocha latte with a shake of vanilla.”
He repeated it to Fredo, then slid in beside her, gave her a study as the car moved into traffic. “I’m hard to impress.”
She let her eyebrows rise a skeptical half inch.
“I admit,” he went on, “I expected a halfhearted effort. But you convinced even me that you’re in my corner.”
“I got an A in drama. Besides—and I know you hate for Hawthorne to beat you at anything—he’s an even bigger, even more arrogant asshole than you are.”
“Well now. There’s no call to hurt my feelings.”
She laughed in spite of herself. How could she not? She was flying high after trouncing the preppies. And he was funny. Not to mention that his smile was just ridiculously gorgeous, all white teeth, full lips, and sparkling eyes, aimed right at her.
He angled his lean body toward her too, stretched out his long legs, invading her half of the car. His stupidly glossy jet hair swept the snowy collar of his shirt, and his suit fit his frame like it was tailored to his exact dimensions, which of course it was.
He wore it the way a quarterback wore his uniform, like a second skin.
In fact, his whole world fit him like a second skin. The swanky penthouse, the luxury limo, the obsequious staff. He made it look effortless. Natural.
And all that confidence was oh-so-seductive.
Okay, enough. She buttoned down her smile. Took out her phone and scrolled through her e-mail, deliberately rude. If she ignored him, he’d pull in his legs and his smile, go back to his laptop and stop chipping at her resolve.
It worked, sort of. He took out his own phone, seemed to lose interest in her.
Then ping. A text popped up from ALeCroix: I trust you packed your passport.
She typed back: Oops.
Nice try.
You don’t need me in Italy.
I’ll be the judge of that.
Meanie.
Brat.
Damn it, she was smiling again. She shut off her phone, looked out the window instead. Fredo had double-parked across from Starbucks. Now he was crossing the street toward them with three coffees in a cardboard holder.
Acting like her smile had been for him all along, she lowered her window, took the two he passed through. She gave Adam his tall bold without making eye contact. The man was altogether too dangerous.
Shifting her butt another six inches away from him, she wedged herself in the corner. Then, trying to look relaxed instead of feral, she stretched out her own legs. And accidentally touched his foot with hers.
Whoa! Electricity jolted up her leg.
She yanked it back, jostling her coffee. It spurted out the hole, missed her suit by an inch but dribbled on the seat. “Shit,” she blurted, scrabbling for the napkin that had landed on the floor.
Calmly, Adam blotted the spill.
“Thanks.” She took a breath, got ahold of herself. Christ, half an hour ago she’d had Hawthorne by the throat and his bag carrier Brandt by the balls, and she hadn’t broken a sweat. Now she was sweating like a linebacker.
Adam smiled, drawing her eyes to his mouth. His sensual mouth. “You’re dripping,” he said.
Is it that obvious?
“You might want to lick it.”
Yep, I’d love to, but it’s a bad idea for sure.
“Madeline.”
She tore her gaze from his lips. He was pointing at her cup. “You’re dripping.”
“Oh. Right.” She caught the drip with her tongue, let her gaze go back to his lips. They were parted, but he wasn’t smiling anymore. She raised her eyes to his and got scorched by blue flame.
Oh no. Oh no.
The limo rolled to a stop at PetSmart and she made a break for it, crossing in front of Adam to open the door before Fredo could get it.
Adam followed her onto the sidewalk. Her temper flared. “Stay here. I don’t need you.”
He gave her one of those assessing looks, like her sanity was in question. Which it was. He was driving her crazy.
Calmly, he took the coffee from her hand and passed it to Fredo. “Keep that warm, would you?” To Maddie, “I’ve never owned a dog. I’d like you to show me what he needs.”
Grrrr. He sounded so freaking reasonable.
“Fine,” she bit out, and stalked to the door. He managed to get there first and open it for her. Grrrr.
Since he was paying, she went top of the line. A plush bed, fuzzy blankets, expensive food and lots of it. Toys, bones, a fancy harness collar. Into the cart it all went.
Adam followed her down the aisles, asked intelligent questions, offered suggestions on size and color, and was generally agreeable while she snapped and snarled. And when she unloaded the cart onto the counter, he paid the staggering bill without batting an eye.
But hey, the whole pile probably cost less than his necktie, so it was no skin off his nose, was it?
Back in the car, he spoke to Fredo. “Stop at Ms. St. Clair’s building before we pick up John Doe.”
Maddie gnashed her teeth. “You don’t need me in Italy.”
“Madeline.” Infinite patience. “Is it such a hardship to travel to the most beautiful country in the world? To stay in your own luxurious suite in a palatial villa overlooking the Mediterranean?”
“You’re right, it sounds nice. Why don’t I go, and you stay here?”
“So the pr
oblem with Italy is me?”
“You’re the problem with everything.” Especially with the limo, which shrank a little more each time they got inside. In here, she couldn’t ignore him. Not his presence, not his scent, not his freaking pheromones.
He chuckled, which made her head whip around.
“It’s not funny,” she ground out.
“Oh, but it is.” He stretched out again, invading her space. “Unsettling you is surprisingly enjoyable.”
“Fame and fortune must be overrated if this is how you get your jollies.”
“And how do you get your jollies, Madeline?”
“None of your business.”
He did that assessing look again. “You have no hobbies,” he mused.
“I work a lot.”
“And earn a healthy salary for your efforts.”
“I’m worth it. And if you think snooping into my finances will tell you who I am, you’re dead wrong. There’s more to me than my bank balance.”
“There’d have to be, wouldn’t there?”
So he had been snooping. No wonder he was so smug. He knew she was tapped out.
“And yet,” he went on, “all your friends together wouldn’t fill this car.”
“I’m picky,” she snarled.
“Too picky, perhaps? Is that why you’ve no husband, nor any prospects in that area?”
That tipped her over the edge. “Listen, Mr. Nosy, I don’t want a husband, and I don’t want a boyfriend. Men are only good for one thing, and I get plenty of that.”
“Sex?”
“Of course, sex. What the hell else can a man give me that I can’t get for myself?”
“Love.”
She made a rude noise.
“Romance.”
“Are you sure you’re not a girl?”
“Not last time I looked.”
Which made her look too. Just for a second, then she yanked her eyes away.
But her mind’s eye was harder to divert. She had a picture in her head, and it was porn.
“Told you,” he said.
“Pfft. Anybody can carry a roll of quarters.”
He smiled, all masculine confidence. “In any case, love and romance aren’t the exclusive province of women.”
“What’s your point? That men are suckers too?” She snorted. “You’re not exactly a poster child, LeCroix. I’ve never seen two pictures of you with the same woman.”
“You will, when she’s the right one.”
A huge eye roll. “You are a romantic. Let me know how that goes.”
“I’ll do that.” His head tilted. Another assessing look, this one with heat. It seared through her clothes, her skin. Sizzled straight to her core.
Oh no. Oh no.
“In the meantime,” she snipped, her voice steadier than her pulse, “butt out of my business.” And out of my panties too. “I’m not here for conversation.” Or sex. “We’re not friends.” Or lovers. “If you want to talk about your feelings, call someone who cares.”
And keep your stupid roll of quarters in your pocket!
WHILE MADDIE MARCHED—under protest—into her apartment for her passport, Adam sat in the limo and stewed.
The illusion that she was merely a tool in his toolbox was becoming harder to sustain.
The trouble was, he’d gone beyond lust. Lust was easy. Uncomplicated. He wanted; he’d take. Her sweet little body was his.
But he craved more. He wanted to penetrate her shell, unravel her twisty brain. She was a puzzle crying out to be solved.
Take her mysterious aversion to romance. It must be rooted in childhood, because his people had found nothing in her post–high school years to account for it.
He dialed his private investigator, Giovanni, who answered on the first ring.
“Mr. LeCroix, sir, I’m sorry but I have nothing new to report since this morning.”
“I’m sure you’re doing your best.” Adam tolerated nothing less. “This is about Madeline St. Clair. I need you to go deeper, back to her childhood.”
“Are you looking for something specific?”
“Traumatic events. Possibly sexual assault. A cheating boyfriend. Something that might turn her off men.”
“Um, Mr. LeCroix, if you’ll recall, she’s had a number of liaisons with men. None with women, at least none that turned up.”
“It’s not her sex life that concerns me.” He knew more about that than he wanted to. At first, her liaisons hadn’t bothered him. After all, he was in no position to judge. But he felt differently about it now. “She’s had no long-term relationships. I want to know why.”
“I understand. I’ll put someone on it immediately.”
She stormed out of her building and, without sparing him a glance, steamed down the sidewalk toward Parker’s.
Adam beat her to the door, of course, which galled her. As she flounced past him, he realized again just how tiny she was. Her personality was so much larger than life, he kept forgetting she was just a sprite.
A tenacious, bloodthirsty sprite.
Parker waved to her, then pushed open the door to the back room. Out trotted John Doe. He spotted them and his head came up, his ropy tail wagged.
He made straight for Adam, and for the first time in his life, Adam felt the simple joy of being greeted by his dog.
He bent to scratch the floppy ears, and John leaned into his leg, a sorrowful sight, scrawny and patchy, his neck wound gleaming pinkly through a shiny salve. But his heart shone out of his big brown eyes.
When he turned those eyes on Maddie, she relaxed visibly, temper draining out of her like water. She squatted, and John slotted his bony body between her knees, squinting blissfully as she scratched his belly.
Adam squatted beside her, stroking John’s knobby head. “He’s a rack of bones,” he murmured. “Is dog food the best we can do for him? Perhaps Leonardo—”
John lifted his nose into Adam’s palm and licked his hand.
Sweet Jesus. It electrified him. Emotion surged in his chest, an overpowering need to protect this sweet creature from the cold, cruel world. To shelter him. To earn the affection he offered so freely.
Then Parker loomed over them, said in bitter tones, “I guess he’ll be okay going with you.”
Adam glanced up at his scowl. Maddie must be clueless not to see the man was gone for her.
Rising smoothly, he put himself between them. “We’ll take good care of him,” he said, more to work in the “we” than to reassure Parker.
Parker stiffened predictably. “He’ll need attention for the next few days. And affection.”
“We’ll keep him with us constantly.”
Maddie got to her feet, wobbling a bit on her high heels. Adam steadied her with a hand on her waist, amazed again at how narrow it was. He could circle it with both hands.
How could such a tiny person absorb so much space in his life?
With her help, Parker fitted John’s new harness collar around him, their coordinated movements proving they’d worked together often.
Seeing their casual intimacy, hearing them murmur back and forth, Adam was suddenly, irrationally sure they were lovers. Jealousy flared in his breast. Not thinking, just reacting, he took a step toward Parker.
And Fredo stepped squarely in front of him. “Should I cancel the flight plan?” he asked innocently. “Give John a chance to rest?”
Adam blinked. Refocused. “Yes.” A deep breath, and a firm grip on his emotions. “Yes, we’ll leave tomorrow instead.”
Maddie peeked around Fredo. “I can stay here with John.”
Adam ignored her. The villa was the closest thing he had to a home. She was damn well going whether she liked it or not.
Out on the sidewalk, Parker eyed the limo. “You sure about this?” he said to Maddie under his breath.
“It’s fine.” She gave him a brighter smile than she’d ever given Adam.
Taking John’s leash from Parker’s reluctant grasp, Adam thanked him curt
ly. Maddie spread a blanket on the rear-facing seat. John hopped in, circled once, then curled up with his head on his paws.
Parker leaned in to pat his flank. “You’re traveling in style, buddy.” He patted Maddie too—not on the flank, but even her knee was too much for Adam. “See you Sunday, Mads.”
“No you won’t,” said Adam, nudging Parker aside as he slid in beside Maddie. “We’ll be in Italy. But we’ll be sure to let you know how John’s faring.” He nodded to Fredo.
With a polite but firm glance that warned Parker to step back, Fredo closed the door.
Instantly, Maddie’s finger drilled Adam’s biceps. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Parker’s the nicest guy in the world, and you were a total dick to him!”
“And you,” Adam shot back, “see only what you want to see. The man’s besotted with you.”
“Besotted? Where did you learn that word?”
“I can read, can’t I?” He should quit now, but he couldn’t. “He wants to sleep with you, or has he already?”
“No he hasn’t slept with me. And what’s it to you, anyway? You don’t—”
John whined.
Maddie cut off, stricken. Her voice dropped to a croon. “We’re upsetting him.” Kneeling on the carpeted floor, she stroked his bumpy spine. “I’m sorry, John.”
Adam swung over to sit with him. “He’s likely heard plenty of shouting. He’ll expect a kick to follow.”
“We’ll never hurt you, John.” Maddie’s hand touched Adam’s inadvertently and he couldn’t help himself, he covered it.
She didn’t pull away, but looked up at him with tears sheening her silver eyes.
How had he ever thought them cold? They were luminous.
He tried a smile. “A truce, for John’s sake?”
After a moment, she nodded, giving him hope. “Just try not to piss me off, okay?”
FAT CHANCE. THE elevator hadn’t closed behind them when Adam said to Fredo, “Put John’s bed in my suite.”
“Hang the hell on.” Maddie faced off with him. Then John butted her knee.
Swallowing her rant like a bitter pill, she said sweetly, “I’d like John to sleep with me.”
“He’s my dog,” Adam said pleasantly. “But you can visit him whenever you wish.”
She sulked all the way to her suite. The “truce” was already cramping her style.
The Wedding Vow Page 7