The Devil in Denim

by Melanie Scott

  Crap. No pretending not to see him. She set her teeth, determined to get past him and on her way as soon as possible. He stood and stepped into her path. She stopped. Across the foyer she saw Dev watching them, a questioning frown pulling his face away from his normally cheerful smile. She shook her head at him, to let him know she didn’t need him to run interference just yet.

  “Morning, Maggie,” Will said, with a smile that was about a quarter inch away from a smirk.

  “Will,” she said cautiously. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “I’m late for something.”

  “Well, now, Alex isn’t such a slave driver that he’s gonna mind you being a little late, is he?”

  “What makes you think I’m going to work?”

  “If Alex hasn’t got you all working this weekend, then the man’s an idiot.”

  “Not many idiots run Fortune 500 companies,” she retorted.

  “I think the history of the stock market might disagree with you on that,” Will said.

  “What do you want, Will?”

  “Like I said, I want to talk to you. Surely you can spare an old friend an hour or so.” He smirked again and Maggie gritted her teeth.

  She opened her mouth to tell him where to go but he kept talking before she could get a word in.

  “After all, Winters will need some time to get to Deacon himself given he only left here twenty minutes or so ago.”

  Maggie’s stomach went cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Will shook his head. “Now, Maggie. Don’t play dumb. I saw him—”

  “You were watching me?”

  “He was leaving when I got here. Winters should be more discreet.”

  Maggie’s brain whirled frantically, trying to think of an explanation for Alex being in her building first thing in the morning.

  “Don’t bother denying it,” Sutter said, satisfaction oozing from the words. “Smart move, in my view. Sleep with the new boss, keep your job.”

  Okay. So Will knew. The question was, what would he do with the information? In his place, she’d be contacting the press immediately. News about her and Alex would only work to his advantage if it was spun as something sleazy. Some of the team owners were pretty conservative. Not to mention the fact that some on the Saints team—and her dad—probably wouldn’t like the news. Which meant she needed to stall Will and, if at all possible, keep him on her side. “It’s not like that,” she said. Then, as Will’s expression turned skeptical, “You said you wanted to talk to me. So talk.”

  Sutter glanced around, nodded his head in Dev’s direction. Dev wasn’t frowning anymore, but Maggie read his very controlled expression as concern and “do you need help?” She made a little “I’m okay” gesture at him before Will turned back to her.

  “I’d prefer somewhere a bit more private. How about you ask me upstairs?” Will said.

  “How about I not,” she said flatly. Keeping him on side was one thing but there was no way she was letting Will Sutter into her apartment.

  “Then let me buy you breakfast,” Will said. “You have to eat.”

  “I’m not interested in eating with you, Will,” she said. Her grip on polite was fading rapidly. But she clung on as best she could. “You’re kind of the enemy.”

  “But I don’t have to be,” he said, his smile flashing wide. She was sure it was meant to be charming but it came off more like smarmy. “C’mon, Maggie. Give me an hour. I’ll buy you breakfast and you listen to what I have to say, and then you can tell me to go to hell if you want to.”

  Maggie hesitated, biting back the desire to tell him to go to hell right that second and be on her way. Curiosity warred with common sense. What the hell was he up to? She wanted to kick his shins and tell him where to shove his offer of breakfast, but could she really turn down the chance to maybe get some information out of him about his bid and what it might take to get him to withdraw it? Sure, Alex and her dad would probably go bananas but she could handle that. This was a chance for her to help. To prove that she could play the game just as well as they could. “All right,” she said, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. “One hour.”

  She had to admit, Sutter was slick. He whisked her into a car and over to a small café a few blocks away where he was obviously known because the hostess promptly seated them in a very private back booth, presented menus, took orders, and then left them alone. The café wasn’t really the sort of place she pictured Sutter hanging out. He had a taste for the good life, she seemed to remember. The room they were in was sort of battered cozy chic crossed with retro diner.

  “Do you come here often?” she asked

  “The chef’s a Texan,” Will said with a nod. “Knows his stuff.”

  Given Will had ordered an egg-white omelet, black coffee, and grapefruit, Maggie couldn’t really see what being Texan had to do with it, but she shrugged and nodded. “All right. You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

  “You don’t want to eat first?”

  “Talk,” she said flatly. She’d ordered coffee and wheat toast. Right now, she felt like she’d probably choke on the toast, so she stuck to the coffee.

  “A woman who gets right down to it. I like that.”

  “I’m flattered,” she said, not meaning it. “Talk, Sutter.” She glanced down at her watch. “Because in about forty-five minutes I’m walking out the door.”

  Will eased back against the booth, studied her a moment, twisting the heavy ring on his left index finger. The thing was a monstrosity, flashier than any World Series ring, with a W set out in diamonds. “Well, it’s like this,” he said. “I want you to come work for me.”

  Maggie was thankful she’d finished her coffee. Or she would’ve spat it across the table. “I have a job.”

  “Really?” Sutter said. “What exactly does Winters have you doing over there? Other than trotting you out for press conferences?”

  “What I do isn’t any of your business,” Maggie said.

  “I think it is. Because I’m guessing that what you’re doing isn’t exactly what you would’ve been doing if Tom was still running the show. I’m thinking you’ve gotta be pretty pissed at that fact. I’m thinking that you’re a woman with a very expensive education and a lifetime of experience with baseball that money can’t buy who’s been sidelined by a bunch of guys who don’t have a quarter of your pedigree.”

  “Then you’re thinking wrong.”

  He looked disbelieving. “If you say so. But what are you going to be doing for Alex once he’s got the team? Other than keeping him … entertained.”

  “I think that comment pretty much sums up why working for you isn’t high on my list of priorities, Will,” she said, seeing red.

  “I apologize for talking plainly about this, Maggie, but you see, I had something a bit more in line with your talents in mind.”

  “Oh really. Like what?”

  “I was thinking you could come on board as CEO.”

  Holy shit. “Excuse me?”

  “Wasn’t that the plan with you and Tom? That he was going to step down and you’d take over?”

  “Well, yes. But not for a few years.”

  Will shrugged. “You’ve got the knowledge you need. You can hire whoever you want to help you out while you find your feet.”

  Run the Saints? Her ears were buzzing, making it hard to focus on what Will was saying. He wanted her to run the Saints? “Why me?”

  “Because you’re the right woman for the job,” he said. “I don’t have time to be as hands-on as Tom was, so I’m planning on taking a more traditional owner’s role. Give you pretty much free rein to do what you want with the place.”

  “Are you planning to move the team?”

  He stabbed at his omelet, speared a piece, chewed and swallowed. “Does that mean you’re interested?”

  No. Yes. No. Yes. Damn. Sutter sucked but she’d have to be crazy not to consider the offer. Still, sh
e wasn’t going to answer him right here and now. “I’d have to think about it.”

  “I need an answer soon. You can’t string me along until you see what happens with the vote and then pick a side.”

  “I can’t answer right away.”

  “I can give you a couple of days.”

  “Are you going to move the team?” she repeated.

  “That’s something that’s up for discussion,” he said. “Obviously there are states that would be more convenient for me than New York but I’d be prepared to listen to other suggestions. From the right person.”

  Double holy shit. He seemed deadly serious. Her mind raced as she tried to think. He wanted her to be CEO of the Saints. Her dream job. But it meant working for him. And here she’d been thinking that Alex was the devil incarnate. She had the feeling he’d just been ousted by Will.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said, and raised her hand to summon the waitress and the check.

  * * *

  Acting more on instinct than anything else, Maggie headed for her apartment rather than work. She dropped her keys and purse and sank onto the sofa, mind still whirling. What had just happened? Sutter, offering her everything she’d ever wanted—except for the part about relocating the team, of course—that was what had happened.

  Her stomach churned. She didn’t know if she was elated or sickened. Everything she’d ever wanted. The chance she’d always wanted.

  Finally—finally—someone who seemed to believe that she could do the job she’d been raised to do.

  But it was Sutter.

  It was a big but, but not quite big enough for her to be able to reject the idea outright. She’d be crazy not to think about it. Wouldn’t she?

  Yes.

  Her inner therapist was nodding vigorously.

  Patient needs to evaluate all opportunities thoroughly. Patient should not reject options outright. Patient behaving like a mature adult for once. Go, patient!

  But even with that weird bit of inner approval there was something else that was equally plain. She had to tell Alex about the offer. She owed the Saints—owed him—that much. Owed him honesty and respect, the same things he’d given her.

  She clenched her hands, swallowing against a mouth suddenly gone dry. How would he take it? Would he see reason? Or just go nuts?

  There was no way to tell. She thought she knew the core of the man, the part that lay beneath the slick exterior. The part that she couldn’t resist, despite her better judgment. But they hadn’t known each other long. Not long enough for her to be able to predict his reactions to anything.

  He’d swung into action with the drive and precision of a general when he’d found out about Sutter’s bid. Obstacles were there to be analyzed and then ruthlessly overcome.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to be subjected to the same treatment if he came to view her as an obstacle, but she didn’t want to lie to him. That would definitely kill whatever the fledgling thing between them was.

  And Sutter’s clock was ticking. Maybe in talking to Alex she’d be able to get a better idea of how she really felt about the offer.

  It boiled down to a choice. Did she want to take a lesser role with the Saints and preserve them as they were now or did she want to step up and step into the great unknown?

  History or the future?

  Was the choice that simple?

  And was that a future with or without Alex? Her head was starting to throb and she walked blindly to the fridge, opened it, stared inside, then closed it again without reaching for anything. She could stuff her face with leftover cold pizza or ice cream or down even more coffee and none of it was going to help her decide.

  The clock on the wall said it was approaching ten. Where would Alex even be? He said he was going home and then they were all going to meet at his Ice offices rather than head to Deacon.

  This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have in public so if she wanted to catch him at home, she should try now.

  Her hand was strangely reluctant as she fumbled for her cell phone. At least she didn’t have to try to remember his number, it was right there in her favorites list. It probably dominated her recent calls too.

  Bloody Alex Winters.

  None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for him.

  No, wait, that wasn’t fair. If he hadn’t bought the team, maybe Sutter would’ve been the one to make the offer to her father in the first place.

  And she would have missed out on several nights of awesome sex and meeting a man who made her toes curl with ease.

  So she couldn’t wish that away.

  Even if life would be far less complicated without him.

  Her finger pressed the dial button and, thankfully, the phone only rang a few times before Alex picked up.

  “Maggie? What’s up?”

  “Are you still home?”

  “Just on my way out the door … Why, is there a problem?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “What’s happened?” His tone sharpened noticeably.

  “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Can I come to your place?”

  “I really need to get to the office. People are waiting for me.”

  Her fingers tightened around the phone. “I’d really like to talk to you alone.”

  “It’s a pretty big building and it will be mostly empty. We’ll find somewhere.”

  Damn. But she could tell that she wasn’t going to convince him to do anything different. So she was just going to have to suck it up and go meet him.

  “Fine,” she managed, trying to keep the snap of frustration out of her tone with limited success. “I’ll just see you there.”

  “The security guys will give you a pass. Just tell them who you are when you get there. Are you far away?”

  She calculated in her head. “No. Half an hour maybe.” Depending on the trains or traffic. Alex’s offices were in the financial district, near Wall Street. Right where you’d expect a wheeler-dealer like him to play.

  “Okay, I’ll see you then. We’ll talk after I get everyone organized.”

  * * *

  Maggie’s mood hadn’t improved much when she reached Alex’s offices, her brain still whirling with an endless recital of pros and cons and possibilities. It was ridiculous. Surely she was old enough to know what she wanted? And what Will was offering was what she had always said she’d wanted.

  She cut the circle of thoughts off with an effort and accepted a security pass from the uniformed guard who approached her as she walked into the soaring glass-and-steel lobby of Alex’s building.

  She’d been here before, had come to poke around the lobby and try to get a feel for the man on one of her weekends at home while she’d been studying him. She didn’t remember the design being quite so cold then. There was a huge sculpture of—an eagle maybe—some sort of soaring bird, wings back, beak thrusting forward in dark bronze dominating one corner of the foyer space.

  Energy. Drive. Homing in on the target.

  Yep, that was pretty much Alex.

  The elevator whisked her up forty floors in about a quarter of the time it took the ancient rumbly lift at Deacon to travel four. The doors swooshed open like something from Star Trek and disgorged her into a discreetly lit reception space that was currently empty. It was less steely than the foyer downstairs but it was still heavy on gleaming surfaces and the minimalist approach to interior design.

  She looked around but there wasn’t much to give a clue about which direction she was supposed to go. She couldn’t hear any voices. She couldn’t hear much of anything. Apparently the soundproofing was pretty damned good in Alex’s kingdom.

  Hopefully the same was true beyond the reception walls. That was where she might have a chance of telling Alex about Will without anything else happening.

  Or, she could just turn right around and go home and pull the covers over her head as the knots in her stomach were pretty much urging her to do.

  But the knot
s were wimps. And she, Maggie Louella Jameson, was anything but.

  No wimps allowed in baseball or anywhere else.

  She pulled out her phone again, getting ready to text Alex to ask where the hell he was, when Gardner appeared at the glass doors beyond the reception desk and came toward her with an apologetic expression on his face.

  “Sorry, Maggie, I got held up on a call just after they rang to say you were coming up. You haven’t been here before, have you?”

  She shook her head, grateful for the sight of a familiar face, for anybody at all at this point. “No.”

  “Okay.” He gave her a quick orientation on where everything was as he ushered her through the doors and led her down a hallway. Her heels sank into plush dark gray carpet that silenced their footsteps. They walked past a series of offices, the walls between the doors hung with huge black-framed photos of craggy snow-covered mountains, before they came to another huge reception-type area with two desks that faced each other framing a big black door.

  Gardner paused. “That’s Alex’s office. He pointed at the door. He said he wanted to see you first. My office is just around the corner and the conference room we’ve been using is down that way.” He nodded toward another hallway that led off to the right. “Call me when you’re done if you get lost.” He smiled again, distractedly, and hurried off. It was the closest she’d ever seen the unflappable Gardner come to looking harried, which said something about the current level of craziness that they were experiencing. She waited until he’d vanished down the hallway before she took a deep breath and walked into Alex’s office.

  He was seated on the desk rather than behind it, one long leg swinging while he studied a sheaf of papers. He looked up as she came through the door.

  His smile made her gut twist guiltily. Damn. This was just going to make everything harder.

  “Hey,” he said, coming to his feet.

  She pushed the door shut but didn’t walk toward him.

  “Closed door, huh? I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.”

  “Well, I’m not about to take off my clothes, so how you interpret that is up to you,” she said, trying to make herself feel better with a sorry attempt at humor.