Heart and Sole

by Miranda Liasson

  “You want me to sell my investment in your company, and I won’t do it.”

  His eyes scanned the painted wood sign that hung behind her desk. It read Integrity. Honesty. Hard Work. Underneath, in smaller lettering, it read Kingston Shoes. Family Owned Since 1944.

  “Stop it,” she said.

  “Stop what?” he asked innocently.

  “Stop judging our company.”

  “I find it ironic you think you stand for all those things, but you don’t.”

  “You don’t know what I stand for.”

  “Maybe not, but my grandfather does.”

  She sighed. “Why does every discussion we have come back to this?”

  “Because my grandfather helped build your company with his integrity, honesty, and hard work, and all he got was screwed.”

  “He walked away was the story I heard. And the company was too young at the time to have much return on investments.”

  Nick snorted. “Without my grandfather’s engineering genius, your shoes would never have taken off in the first place.”

  “Is that why you bought up shares? Because you’re out for revenge?”

  “No.” He stood and tapped his index finger down on the surface of her cluttered desk to underscore his point. “I’m out for justice.” He paused to see the effect of his words, but she purposely faced him unflinching. “Besides, you need to add another word to your motto.”

  She crossed her arms defiantly.

  “Modernization. Your company is out of date.”

  Maddie stood so fast the wheels on her chair clattered against the plastic carpet guard beneath. She heaved deep breaths in and out to remain calm.

  It didn’t work.

  “Our orthopedic line got a top rating from Consumer Reports for quality and engineering.”

  “They’re old lady shoes. The real shoe-buying demographic won’t touch them.”

  She made a mental note not to allow Nick a glimpse of her own shoes, which happened to be passion pink four-inch peek-toe pumps with ruffle embellishments that were definitely not from the Kingston collections.

  “So they’re practical. We’re not targeting the uber-stylish-designer crowd.” But that would change once she was in charge. If she could get her designs noticed. Like in the national Bergdorf design competition she was thinking about entering.

  “You’re not targeting any market. That’s the problem. You’re wasting opportunities by putting forth a bland product.”

  Maddie suddenly realized both her hands were clamped into fists. He was the most irritating, cutthroat, opportunistic know-it-all she’d ever met and she wanted to tell him so, only she knew her father would disapprove. He’d taught her and her siblings to treat people civilly, with a smile, even if they made you mad as hell. “Treat ’em like kings and queens, because they’re our bread and butter,” he’d admonished when they were teenagers, working in the original store on Main Street.

  Her heart twisted. Henry Kingston was old school all the way. A proud man who didn’t let on to any of them that the company was in trouble even before he’d had the stroke that took away his speech and ability to walk.

  But if Nick knew her dad was sick he’d shut them down—or take over—in less than a heartbeat. She’d never get the chance to bring the company back to its feet. “Why do you care about our products if you’re going to dissolve the company anyway?”

  “I’m only stating facts. The company is in a tailspin. My job is deciding which companies to save and which to let go, and based on every indicator, it’s too late.”

  He sat in his chair, relaxed, confident and so damn smug she wanted to wrinkle his shirt. Mess up his hair. Skew his tie. Anything to see if he was really human under all that arrogance.

  “The bottom line is that you’re capitalizing on our bad fortune. How could you take away our livelihood?” She bit her lip. She sounded desperate. Angry. When she should be calm, logical, and unaffected.

  “My grandfather was never able to achieve a dream he still wants. I have the opportunity to give that to him. I’m sorry, Maddie.” For a second, he looked genuinely contrite. His large brown eyes filled with softness, like he truly did regret being a scumbag. But then they went hard. “Business is business.”

  She lowered herself back into her chair. “No, Nick, business is never just business. Especially in this case.”

  “I can’t help what happened between our grandfathers. But I can help make it right.”

  “Do you really think that taking over the company on behalf of your grandfather is going to avenge a fifty-year-old feud?” It certainly wouldn’t end it. She shuddered as she imagined the flash of horror on her family’s faces if Kingston Shoes were ever owned by Holters.

  “Maybe not.” He paused. “Look at it this way. If it’s not me, it’s going to be somebody else. Your company is sinking faster than the Titanic.”

  His grandfather was seventy-two, just like her grandmother. What on earth was he going to do with their company?

  Nick’s gaze flitted around the room. Half-packed boxes lay strewn on the floor, and one of the bookshelves was empty. Maddie shifted in her chair, a vain attempt to distract him from all the evidence of her moving.

  “You’re leaving?”

  She stiffened. “My father needs help. I believe I can help him turn things around.”

  A frown cast a shadow on his strong features. “I always thought you didn’t want anything to do with the business.”

  She hadn’t. She was an artist at heart, much to her dad’s chagrin. A few years ago, after graduating from the Art Institute of Philadelphia with her graphic design degree, her parents had loaned her money for a website design startup that had failed disastrously. But she finally landed a decent job, managing a group of graphic designers who created ads for different online shoe companies.

  And in her spare time, she drew shoes. Stilettos, pumps, platforms, booties, sandals…velvet, satin, bead, and embroidery embellishments…stuff far, far away from the practical leather ‘n’ laces she’d been surrounded by her entire life. A useless skill as far as her dad was concerned, who had begged her to get a business degree so she could take over the company books. But now her father needed her, and she wouldn’t let him down. She couldn’t.

  “I changed my mind.”

  This was the impasse. The old family feud that had no end. No one even knew what it was about anymore.

  “Look, I didn’t come here to dredge up the past.” Nick turned and stretched out one leg so he could pull a piece of paper out of his pocket, which he tossed blithely across the desk.

  It was a check for $30,000 made out to Children’s Hospital.

  Maddie raised her brow, resisted the urge to tear the flimsy sheet to shreds and rant. Be calm. Be rational. Let him explain. “What’s this for?”

  She may have been trained in graphic design, but she could add. Her bid plus her promise. Thirty-K. Enough to forget her whole stupid plan and let him off scot-free.

  “Take it, and we can pretend last night never happened. You’ll be off the hook to cough up all that money I know you don’t have.”

  Bright, angry fireworks burst in front of her eyes, obscuring her vision. Oh, she’d take it all right…and shove it right up his elegant, conceited ass.

  Even worse, his words brought back another night, a year ago, and she wondered if he wished that night had never happened either.

  “What you’re really saying is you’re off the hook,” she said.

  “Hardly.”

  She crossed her arms in a not-so-fast move. “The rules state you have to spend the weekend with me. The long weekend.”

  A wry, cocky smile washed across his face. “If you want me that bad, we can spend a weekend wherever you want, sweetheart.”

  “You arrogant, cocky bastard.”

  She walked around her desk, no longer caring if he noticed her impractical shoes, until they were face to face. “I do not want you sexually, but you are going to fulfil
l the terms of the agreement. You can’t make up your own rules.”

  His gaze drifted slowly down her body, and she suppressed a shiver. She detected a glimmer of amusement in the depths of his caramel-colored eyes. He knew she wanted him, and he reveled in her weakness. “It’s a charity auction—there are no technical ‘rules.’” He drew quotation marks in the air.

  “We’ll see about that.” Maddie picked up her cell phone from the desk and punched in a number.

  Nick’s brows shot up in concern. “What are you doing?”

  “Calling my sister.”

  “Which one?”

  “Not Liz—she’s still overseas doing doctor stuff.” He moved to snatch the phone from her hand but she backed up and began talking. “Hi, Cat. Nick’s in my office. He wants to pay me off to drop the auction agreement.”

  “So let him,” her sister said.

  Maddie pretended not to hear. “I want to instruct him about the backlash that would create.”

  “Backlash? Money talks. As long as he pays, there’s no backlash.”

  Maddie held the phone against her shoulder. “Catherine says she’ll make sure it gets written up in her column that you reneged. You’ll have to answer to the entire city. Plus, they want to do a follow-up article after our ‘date.’” This time she made the air quotes. “Your reputation as a nice guy is at stake. And I know how much you care about what other people think.”

  She walked around him. He stood arrow-straight and tall, shoulders back, posture perfect. But a tiny vein at his temple pulsed. His square jaw clenched hard, and so did his fist. Mr. Cool-as-a-Cucumber was sweating.

  And that was a beautiful thing.

  “The agenda is set.” She ticked off events on her fingers as she paced back and forth in front of her desk. “First, we’ll see my family.” Well, minus her father, but maybe she could tell him her dad was gone on business. “Then we’ll attend the Berry Festival. And then there’s Gran’s seventy-second birthday. Mom’s already insisted you stay with us.”

  “That’s very kind. But I’ll stay at the B and B, thanks.”

  “My parents have never held your genes against you, Nick.” Plus, there was no way her mother was going to allow that. She could bet her firstborn—if she ever had one—on it. But now his eye was twitching, and she didn’t want to push her luck.

  “I just don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

  “Then don’t do this to us.”

  “I bought shares, that’s all. Shares that were up for sale because you all are desperate.” His voice was soft, almost soothing. “The company has failed all by itself. It needs a miracle to save it, and I’m sorry, but I’m fresh out of those. This trip is going to be a waste of time for both of us.”

  Maddie felt the shock of his touch on her arm. Even now, waves of heat spread through her body. Damn him anyway. She tried to pull out of his reach, but his hold was steel, and his hard, calculating gaze bored into hers. He was not a man who lost his battles.

  She shook her head like he was a hopeless case, but deep down, Maddie wondered if it was really herself she was chiding.

  Nick’s dark, sensual eyes bore into hers. “You’ve spent money you can’t afford and now you’re leaving your job for a lost cause. Give it up, Maddie. I’m going to dissemble or restructure whether I share a piece of birthday cake with your grandmother or not.”

  She swallowed hard. Could he do either with just over a forty percent stake? She didn’t understand business that well, but Nick was a very powerful man. She was certain he could create a hell of a lot of havoc.

  Was the old Nick in there somewhere? The one who snuck a red rose onto her pillow for her sixteenth birthday. Who got caught in a downpour walking home with her from the library, when they stopped in Crenshaw’s barn to get warm and ended up making out and late for dinner. All the sneaking around they’d done for most of senior year. All the pain of losing a love she once thought was perfect.

  Before she could wax too sentimental, she made herself remember that Nick had broken up with her right after prom senior year. Told her he was moving on to other things. He’d never admit it, but she knew he’d overheard her grandmother calling him trailer trash. Maddie had pleaded and begged, told him it didn’t matter to her what anyone said, but he’d wasted no time dating her nemesis, a gorgeous bombshell who lived to make her miserable. Then he left the simple life they’d led in their hometown for everything bigger and better. And left her behind without a glance back.

  The old Nick was gone.

  “You’re right.” She stepped out of his reach and gave the boy she once loved a pensive look. “Visiting our company and eating cake with my gran and seeing everyone you left behind years ago is not going to change your mind. But it’s going to give me something you’ll never understand.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Closure. I want you to face my family and own up to your decisions.”

  She saw the struggle in his eyes as they narrowed down on her. Concession was a real bitch. “All right. You win. But I have conditions.” He ticked them off on his elegant fingers. “I don’t stay at your house. I’ll tell your family about the deal on my own terms. I’m not going to endure interrogation and conviction all weekend. Lastly, I don’t tour the company. There’s no need. I’ll see it when it’s mine.”

  Maddie tapped the tips of her nails against the glass surface of her desk and almost smiled. He’d always had a need for control, for order. As a child who lost his parents young and was raised by the grandfather who’d been ousted from the business, Nick had grown up with more than his share of disorder.

  There was no point in arguing about details now. She’d have to work them out later, once she had him back in Buckleberry. “I’ll pick you up Wednesday at five p.m.” She straightened papers in hopes he would take the hint and leave.

  “Wait. We’re not flying?”

  “I usually drive.” In reality, she was broke. She’d be lucky to afford the gas.

  “I’ll have my pilot fly us.”

  She was not going to allow him to control this situation. First it would be his private plane, then it would be his entourage of minions to seal the deal. “I—I’m afraid to fly.” Maddie bit the insides of her cheeks to stop from saying more.

  “You never used to be.” A suspicious frown creased his perfect forehead.

  “It—um—happened recently. A near-death experience. Over the Atlantic.” She bit down hard, the metallic taste of blood bitter in her mouth.

  A frown creased his perfect forehead. “I am not driving eight and a half hours with you.”

  “That’s why we’re leaving Wednesday afternoon after work. So we still have plenty of time once we get home.”

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “We agreed on four days. That would mean we leave Thursday.”

  “Technically not, because you’ll be back by five on Sunday. Thus four days starts Wednesday afternoon.”

  “Fine,” he growled, pulling a sticky note off a pad on her desk to scribble down his address.

  “I remember where you live,” she whispered.

  As he handed her the note, their fingers touched. Warm, solid. Their gazes locked, his as steely and uncompromising as their conversation. Maddie fought the impulse to grab his hands, shake them, pull him to her. Stop this craziness, every fiber in her wanted to cry out. We can be bigger than this. Better than this.

  “I know you do.” His voice was soft. For just a second, he sounded like the old Nick. They stood there, each holding on to the note, their hands still touching, the weight of many unsaid words cluttering the space between them.

  What if they could put an end to this right now? Say the rift had to end. Work to mend instead of widen it. She opened her mouth to speak. All it would take was one of them to start.

  Nick abruptly pulled his hand away. “Good-bye, Maddie. See you tomorrow.” Then he turned and walked his gorgeously tight butt out of her office, not bothering to glance back.

&
nbsp; Who was she kidding? While she remembered a sweet, innocent Nick from long ago, he had morphed into a hard-chiseled shark who conducted his business without regard for hardship.

  She thought she’d cracked through his hard outer shell a year ago, but she was wrong. It was impermeable to emotion.

  He was going to be the same major pain in the ass as always. If she didn’t find some way to chip through, this trip wouldn’t change a thing. It would just make her more broke and more unable to help her family.

  Maddie pulled out her buried sketchbook and thumbed through the pages of charcoaled drawings. She had so many ideas, but not a clue how to make an actual shoe. Nick was right. No one at Kingston Shoes would agree to try her out-of-the-box designs.

  “By the way,” Nick said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. She startled and slammed the notebook closed. How long had he been standing there?

  “Nice shoes, but not exactly consistent with the current Kingston inventory.”

  Her face flooded with heat. Panic muted her voice as she struggled for a reply, not wanting to hand him a weapon to use against her. It took a second to realize he was not staring at her precious designs, but at her shoes.

  Maddie contemplated tossing one at him to wipe the patronizing grin off his too-handsome face, but he’d vanished before she could pull it off her foot. It was going to be a very long weekend.

  Chapter Four

  Maddie exited the coffee shop they’d stopped at not even five minutes into their trip, which irked Nick to no end. He pulled up his black Lexus coupe so she wouldn’t get wet, watching the wipers glide efficiently back and forth in front of him. At least he’d insisted on taking his car instead of the old bucket of bolts she’d called Bessie, a pink PT Cruiser that had seen better days.

  And he’d insisted on driving. Rain always made him edgy, reminded him of that stormy night long ago that had caused the accident that claimed his parents and baby sister and changed his life forever. It was better for him to stay in control rather than worry, and for him that meant taking the wheel.