Bid Me Now

by Rebecca Gilise

  Nick’s brutal tone would make most men rethink their words, but Alex bravely waved a dismissive hand. “Nick, let me make myself clear. The sealed bid you put in to Wilkins and Davies was invalidated by your company’s dishonesty, and it is very likely a criminal offense. The bids were leaked beforehand. I suggest you fix your own problem, starting by formally withdrawing from the purchase of the mill. Then the sale can proceed to the next highest bidder, who as you know, is Miri.”

  Nick turned his head toward Miri, his gaze thoughtful. “I won’t be withdrawing the bid. The mill is coming down.”

  Miri wanted to shrink away to nothing. She briefly considered making an excuse to leave, but Nick’s remorseless glare had her pinned.

  Alex took a sip of her coffee and nervously put the cup down. It rattled against the saucer. “I’m afraid,” Alex paused to draw a deep breath, as if steadying herself for Nick’s reaction, “that’s not going to happen. You see, I have gained a temporary injunction to prevent any further demolition until the matter is fully investigated. The court papers were served to your New York lawyers less than twenty minutes ago. Your phone will no doubt ring at any moment with the news.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked thickly.

  Miri couldn’t prevent a gasp of surprise from escaping her lips. What on earth was Alex doing?

  “I’m sure you know what an injunction is,” Alex answered with a weak laugh. “You cannot proceed with the demolition until this is fully investigated.”

  Nick’s cold fury seemed to permeate the entire room. “Don’t think you can threaten me or my company. I assume this is all for Miri’s benefit.”

  Miri felt the blood drain from her face as his cold eyes raked her. This was Nick defending his company, and he was formidable.

  He turned his head back to Alex. “This will cost you millions in damages. Tens of millions.”

  Alex maintained her smile, but her lips visibly thinned at his words. She looked almost scared of him. Alex had obviously presumed Nick would simply back down and agree to sell the mill. Miri knew better.

  “Mr. Brannagh, please don’t think you can make this go away by threats.”

  In one fluid movement, Nick stood to his full height. “Get that injunction lifted now. Then start planning your retraction. My lawyers will talk to the Chronicle by the end of the day. If you’ve paid some fool at the realtors to make up this whole thing, then this will cost you everything you own. Got it?”

  Nick’s imposing height had Alex craning her neck to look up to him. She rose shakily to her feet, two spots of color high on her cheekbones. Whether it was because of his threat or his testosterone, Miri couldn’t be sure.

  “This is just…it’s quite outrageous…” she huffed feebly back at him. Miri watched as Alex’s gaze swept over him with a practiced eye, her cheeks turning a shade brighter. Despite everything, the woman couldn’t resist looking him over.

  Nick turned, and Miri found herself on the end of his glare as he headed toward her. “I’d like to talk to you,” he said bluntly. He nodded at the door. “Outside.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I need to speak…”

  “Speak to your friend later,” he interrupted coldly, waiting for her to stand.

  She stood.

  Nick turned to Alex. “We’re done. My lawyers will be in touch.”

  With that final shot, Nick’s hand was under Miri’s elbow and he was steering her through the doorway, past the wide-eyed Petra, out of Alex’s suite, and down the passage to a conversation area near the elevator.

  “Please sit down.”

  He was ordering her about again, but Miri didn’t dare argue. He was furious with her, but Miri told herself it didn’t matter. He was a liar.

  He sat in the chair opposite her, his cold anger making her shake. “You were very quiet in there. Cat got your tongue?”

  “I…I’m just surprised at your attack on Alex.”

  “You’re surprised?” he asked in disbelief. “After what’s she’s done? Anyway, your friend is doing all this for your benefit, isn’t she?”

  “I…that’s not fair. Alex is doing the right thing…just as anybody would. She’s kind and honest.”

  “I don’t doubt she’s kind to you. Honest? Bloody unlikely. Did you know what was going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The article and the injunction,” he snapped. “Did you know about any of it?”

  Miri shook her head, feeling every nip of his sharp anger. “Only the article.”

  He shoved a hand across his head in exasperation. “Dammit, Miri, in your studio, you accused me of cheating you out of that damned building. I told you then I had no idea what you were talking about. But you wouldn’t listen. Just went off with both barrels blazing.”

  “Because I didn’t believe you then, and I don’t believe you now.” But even as the words came out, Miri felt a stab of doubt. Surely Alex would never make an allegation that wasn’t true? It just wasn’t possible, considering how meticulous she was in her business dealings.

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You know what I think? When I refused to sell you the mill, your friend cooked up this whole story. She expected the allegation alone to make me withdraw. We rely on sealed bids to gain business. Big projects that keep thousands of people employed. Your friend figured we’d just give up and walk away to avoid bad publicity. Maybe you did as well?”

  Miri raised a hand in protest. “No! That’s ridiculous. Besides, Alex would never do that. I know her.”

  Nick leaned forward, his gray eyes so arctic that she had to look away. “Really? Maybe you just can’t get past your blind loyalty to her.”

  Miri found strength enough to raise a defiant chin. Her first impression of him had been arrogance. She had been right. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about loyalty. I’m leaving.”

  As she found her feet, Nick stood and, for a seemingly endless moment, looked down at her. “Well, then, don’t let me keep you.”

  Miri caught her breath at the unexpected regret in his tone. Turning, she started walking slowly back to Alex’s office, not trusting her limbs to manage a faster pace. At the door she turned to see if he was watching her. Hating that she wanted him to be watching her.

  He was gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Look, no suspenders.”

  Miri stared into her lager, determined not to look. With Bree whispering in her ear, even a glance could start her giggling.

  “And he’s pressed a crease in his Wranglers.”

  “Shut up, Bree,” Miri hissed, concentrating on the coaster under her beer. Marcus had obviously gone out and bought new jeans and a checked shirt especially for tonight. Thank God he hadn’t bought a cowboy hat, or that would have really set her off.

  Marcus did have his surprises, Miri now knew that well enough. If kissing her in front of the town’s leading citizens hadn’t been surprise enough, this certainly was. His invitation to the Atlanta Bar’s country night had caught her so off guard she’d accepted before she realized what she was doing. Who would have thought Marcus did country western? Well, he certainly had an eye for a quality night out. The Atlanta’s monthly country nights were legendary, attracting the best bands and singers, and more than a few celebrities from New York. And Bree and Abe, of course. They rarely missed a night.

  But even with Bree and Abe sitting next to her, Miri still worried that Marcus was reading far too much into this evening. No way was that “happy as a clam” face all down to good rockabilly. As far as Marcus was concerned, this was a date.

  She liked him well enough. She always had. So had her father, who considered Marcus the finest surgical intern he’d had working under him. Before the accident, she and Marcus hadn’t been close, but they’d occasionally done coffee at the Round Bean or the Art House. There was no reason for her not to like him romantically. In fact, they were alike in many ways. M
arcus might be staid, but then she wasn’t exactly the break-out fun, adventurous type herself. They were both dedicated to their work. In theory, they should click. She had clicked with Nick, and they couldn’t be more different in personality. For a moment, Miri felt the familiar ache of loss, remembering how she and Nick had clicked.

  Clicked and clicked and clicked…

  “I’m glad you could come. You look quite lovely tonight, Miri.”

  Miri jumped in her seat, lost in the exquisite memory of that night at the Endeavour. “Oh, thank you, Marcus.” She sighed. The poor guy was trying so hard. She looked down at her red shirt tied up around her waist, skinny black denims, and red ankle boots. “Quite lovely” didn’t seem the right description, but that was Marcus. Always formal and polite. “Actually, so do you. I mean, not lovely. Handsome.” Drat, she shouldn’t have said that. Now he looked love-struck. Either way, she couldn’t deny that he did instill a solid, comforting warmth. And he would never hurt her, that she could be sure of.

  Marcus turned to Bree and Abe. “You guys been here before?”

  Abe shrugged. “Every month, although it’s not easy to get Bree off her butt to go anywhere.” He howled as Bree poked him.

  Bree turned to Marcus. “Does Mariette like country western?”

  “Who? Oh…actually, I don’t know.” He looked at Bree with a puzzled expression. “Have you met Mariette?”

  “No, but I thought you…”

  Miri nudged Bree in the ribs and shot her a warning look. “Bree, are you having another beer?”

  “Ow, yeah sure.”

  Miri worked on a change of subject. “What sort of music do you like?”

  Marcus stood up and looked down at her with a surprisingly boyish grin. “This kind. Want to dance?” He put his hand out, and Miri blinked at it in surprise.

  “Oh…sure.” Setting her glass down, she took his hand and stood doubtfully, looking at the expert dancers on the crowded dance floor.

  Bree gave a thumbs-up and fed Miri an “I’m glad it’s not me smirk,” only to scowl when Abe yanked her to her feet just as she’d picked up her beer. “You must be f-ing joking…” she yelled at him over the music. Downing her beer in three impressive gulps, she stumbled off behind Abe into the throng, cursing all the way.

  Miri hadn’t a clue how she was going to carry this off until Marcus took her hand, guided her expertly in to the crowd, pulled her to him, and started dancing.

  Omigod, who would have thought Marcus could dance? The guy was seriously good. The steps, the hips, the perfect timing with the music.

  “Hey, you’re a really great dancer,” Miri shouted as he turned her on his hand, her long ponytail flicking across his face each time she spun.

  “Thanks,” he yelled back, rearing backward to avoid the flying tail. “All those dancing lessons my mother forced on me. But I always liked country dancing the best.”

  Miri laughed as Marcus whirled her again. Wow, this man really was full of surprises. And so easy to be with. Miri flung herself into a no-hands free spin, laughing as Marcus caught her before she crashed into a cowboy.

  “Oops…maybe I need more practice.”

  “How y’all doing, folks?” drawled Abe as he and Bree whirled alongside them.

  Bree’s face had turned beet-red under her yellow curls. “Ya know what?” she wheezed. “I’m going back to drink beer.” Grabbing Abe’s hand, she dragged him off toward their table before he could protest.

  Miri was flagging as well, but Marcus looked as cool as ever. “I’m ready to take a breather, too,” she yelled at him over the music, fanning her face with a hand.

  “Okay, it is pretty warm in here,” he shouted back.

  They weaved through the dancing mass to their table. Abe had ordered their second round of beers, so they happily sat enjoying the music, munching on corn chips and sipping their drinks.

  “You ready to try again?” asked Marcus with a grin, jerking a thumb toward the dancing mass. But before Miri could answer, he looked down at his belt and groaned. “Damn, my pager,” he muttered, pulling it out to read the message.

  “Sorry, folks, I have to go. Medical emergency. Something serious — otherwise they wouldn’t have paged.”

  Miri felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. He couldn’t have been more fun, she realized with a small tug of guilt. “I hope everything is all right.”

  “I hope so, too. I’m so sorry, Miri.” His eyes crinkled under an apologetic frown. “Will you guys be okay to get home?”

  “Sure,” said Abe. “We’ll get a cab. No problem.”

  Marcus offered more apologies, and Miri watched him disappear through the crowd, resolving that from now on she really would try harder to like him romantically.

  “Well, that was fun,” remarked Bree, taking a sip of beer. “He’s some dancer. Puts you to shame, Abe.”

  “Yeah, but my expertise lies in other areas, as you know,” he said with a wicked grin.

  Miri looked around the bar. “You guys want to stay for a while? Because I do.” It was time to break some rules. Stay out until the small hours. Drink beer. Perhaps something stronger. Taking another sip of her lager, she leaned back and let her mind enjoy the moment. Life went on after all. Post-Nick wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t bear it.

  “Hell, yeah, we’ll stay,” clattered Bree into her thoughts. “But I’m gonna get a real drink. Something with a decent kick. What about you guys?”

  Abe shook his head. “Nope, I’ll stick to beer.” He waved a hand in the direction of the bar. “Hey, there’s the duty reporter from the Chronicle. You two wanna come over and sit at the bar?”

  “Beats sitting here like two bumps on a log,” giggled Bree, and stood up to hook a hand through Abe’s arm and pull Miri to her feet with the other.

  Miri grabbed her shoulder bag. “I’m off to the bathroom first. Order me a cocktail. Something fruity.”

  She dodged her way through the dancers to the bathroom at the back of the room. There was a ten-minute wait, and by the time she emerged, the line dancing had started.

  Detouring past the dancers, she turned to smile a firm “no thanks” to a cowboy offering to buy her a drink when, as if some preternatural power had taken over her brain, she glanced toward an alcove in a far corner.

  He was partly obscured by a necking couple, but she instantly recognized the dark head, chiseled profile, and line of his broad shoulders.

  Nick.

  Was he alone? Of course she needed to know. To ruin her night. Please, please get out of the way, she silently begged the necking couple, until finally they moved.

  Miri froze. He wasn’t alone. A woman sat so close to him, they had to be a couple. Nick watched his date’s face as she talked, giving her one of his gorgeous lopsided grins and laughing when she slapped him playfully on the arm. Miri closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the woman had leaned back and was running a hand over her stomach.

  Pregnant.

  Miri’s breath stalled in her throat. She tried to take a step, but her legs had lost their power of movement. The only piece of her still functioning was her primal flight instinct. She needed to escape before he saw her. And without a shadow of a doubt, she knew Nick would sense her presence and turn to look at her.

  Then he would…what? Gloat?

  She stood there, sucking in breaths as if the room had lost its oxygen. It took a dancer jostling her out of the way for Miri to finally rediscover her legs. Stumbling through the crowded dance floor to the bar, she crawled onto a stool Bree had saved.

  “Got you a strawberry margarita,” Bree said, pushing something pink in a glass toward her. “Anything wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Oh, nothing. Thanks for the drink. I’ve never had one of these.” She took a sip; it tasted strong. Perfect for numbing the mind. She drained it in four gulps.

  Abe was talking. “Miri, this is Alan Petersen, new reporter with the Chronicle. Alan, meet Miri Jamieson, our fa
mous sculptor.”

  Alan smiled. “Hi, Miri. Famous sculptor, eh?”

  She forced a distracted stare up at Alan’s face. Fortyish, with sandy-colored hair and a kind face. A nice guy. Not like the rat sitting over there in the corner with his pregnant girlfriend. “Hello, Alan. Abe’s exaggerating.”

  She looked around to check whether Nick was in view from where she was sitting. He wasn’t. It was best the others didn’t know he was here, and it was unlikely he would see her now, considering the place was packed.

  “So what does a duty reporter do at the Atlanta Bar?” she asked Alan, trying to take her mind off Nick and his significant other, at the same time knowing it wouldn’t work.

  “We always review the guest band, and of course there are usually celebrities to write about.”

  “Sure. You want another margarita, Bree?” Not waiting for an answer, Miri signaled the barkeep for two more.

  Bree propped her elbows on the bar and rested her chin in her hands. “Pity that Marcus had to go, but there are plenty of hotties here.” Turning her head to one side, she leaned close. “Don’t look now, but at three o’clock, there’s one fine cowboy looking at you.”

  Miri was happy not to look. “No hook-ups.”

  “Aw, shucks, cowgirl,” Bree drawled with a shake of her blonde head. “He’s cute. Just take a look.”

  “No! I’m celibate now,” Miri declared stupidly, finishing her drink in a single swallow.

  Bree made a loud snort. “Jeez, Miss League of Decency, you don’t have to lay him, just smile at him. Haven’t you noticed? There are men everywhere looking at you.”

  “Don’t be silly. Smiling leads to other things. Another strawberry thingy, please, bartender.”

  Bree giggled and pushed her glass next to Miri’s. “Make that two.”

  The bartender grinned at them as he mixed their drinks. “You two be careful with those. They’ll leave you legless.”

  Miri stared at his name badge and smiled right back. “Thanks, Jerry.” She raised her glass and sucked down most of it. “Here’s to legless women, Jerry,” she toasted, suddenly aware that Jerry was slightly out of focus. This would have to be her last.