My One And Only

by MacKenzie Taylor

  She placed a hand on his arm. "For what it's worth, I don't understand everything that's happened between the two of you, but I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

  His lips turned into a slight smile that chased away the lingering sadness in his gaze. "There it is again," he said.

  "What?"

  "When you feel very passionate about something"— he seemed to roll the words off his tongue—"you get this breathy tone in your voice." He leaned close enough for her to catch the scent of his soap. It was masculine and unsubtle— like him. He touched the end of her braid where it rested on her shoulder. "I think I'm getting addicted to it."

  Before she could respond, Rachel bounded up the stairs from the galley. "Abby, I thought—" She stopped when she saw Ethan, then broke into a wide grin. "Ethan! Hi."

  He hesitated for the barest of seconds, then dragged his gaze from Abby and gave Rachel a warm smile. "Hey, Rach."

  "I didn't know you were coming here today." She took the box of canapés from him.

  "Last-minute change of plans," he told her.

  Rachel clearly shared none of Abby's trepidation over Ethan's presence. She grabbed his arm and started tugging him forward. "This will be great. I was going to be so totally bored all day, knowing I have all that baking to do at home."

  "I told you I'd help you this afternoon."

  "Yeah, I know. Still, it's going to take all night."

  He shot Abby a wry look. "I do some of my best work late at night."

  Abby rolled her eyes. Rachel laughed. "Well, at least this won't be boring, now that you're here."

  "Stuffy parties not your style?" he teased.

  "As if." Rachel linked her hand through his elbow. "Carlton's okay, though, so it shouldn't be too gruesome."

  Ethan slanted another look at Abby. "I hope not. He's coming to work for me next month."

  She had no idea how to interpret that comment. The man was turning out to be every bit as perplexing as she'd feared. Rachel, she noted, feeling strangely irritated, displayed no such qualms. "Come on, Ethan," she was saying. "I'll show you around."

  Abby watched them go, frowning into the early-morning sunlight. In the days since his startling announcement on Tuesday night, she'd tried hard to persuade herself that she had everything blown completely out of proportion. Ethan was a very attractive, dynamic man, and naturally she found him compelling. She'd come very close to convincing herself that the strange nervousness she felt around him, and the way her skin seemed a little more sensitive and the blood seemed to ring in her ears, were merely symptoms of the stress she felt over Harrison's obvious displeasure with Ethan's involvement in MDS's financial crisis. Anyone in her shoes would feel the pressure.

  Anyone, she'd told herself.

  And almost believed it. Until she'd heard his deep voice this morning and her heartbeat had tripped into double time—reminding her that she had the worst possible timing and taste. While trying to help one of her oldest and dearest friends face a potentially devastating personal crisis, she was falling for his sworn enemy.

  With a groan, Abby dropped into a deck chair.

  "Moron," she muttered, and buried her face in her hands. Years ago, she'd stopped worrying that her hormones seemed to be on a permanent sabbatical. After the death of her parents, she'd been plunged headlong into adulthood. No wonder, she'd long ago decided, that she lacked the kind of sit-up-and-pay-attention sex drive her friends had. LuAnne was prone to fall head over heels in love with a different man at least once a month. To Abby, things had always appeared more serious.

  Somewhere along the way, she'd even invested money in a psychiatrist, who'd calmly informed her that losing her father at such a young age had understandably cast her into an endless search for a replacement. It had sounded like crap at the time, but Abby had taken the advice and distilled it into her own, more practical view of her general lack of interest in the male species. It wasn't that she didn't like men, exactly; it was just that she didn't particularly need them. She'd gotten on fine without one for most of her life, and neither her heart nor her hormones seemed especially inclined to change that fact.

  And then she'd come face-to-face with Ethan Maddux. Though she'd seen him maybe a half-dozen times before, and always at a distance, that day she had realized she'd never really seen the man at all. At least, not quite like that.

  In a sudden moment of clarity, her sex drive, like Rip Van Winkle, had snapped from its inexplicable slumber and come to complete and arresting attention. Her hormones had gone from zero to full throttle in the space of a heartbeat, and she'd been struggling for equilibrium ever since. Her mind had started to drift during the day. She'd find herself remembering the way he twirled his fountain pen between his fingers, or how his silvery eyes darkened when he was intent on understanding something. Or, more often, she'd hear the shiver-inducing sound of his voice in her dreams. Always saying, "I want you, Abby," in that go-to-hell half whisper that raised the goose bumps on her skin.

  When he'd kissed her last night, she'd practically melted like one of Rachel's chocolate desserts. Lord knew, if her sister hadn't been sleeping in the next room, she probably couldn't have found the courage to stop him. She had a sinking sensation that she was rapidly getting in over her head—and the worst part of it was, she didn't feel very inclined to do anything about it.

  Of course, it didn't help one damned bit that the man kept turning up in her life looking like some fantasy out of a women's handbook on perfect specimens of the male species. Even today, clad in simple, casual clothes, he exuded a raw sort of power that had her body humming a few degrees above normal.

  With a low groan, she sat back in the chair to await the inevitable. Harrison would arrive soon. He'd see Ethan and hell would break loose. Then, maybe, she'd have some peace.

  seven

  It was like a scene in a silent-movie melodrama, Ethan mused as he faced his father across the deck of the yacht. Most of the Montgomerys had already arrived. Letty had greeted him warmly. Other reactions had ranged from avidly curious to openly hostile. So far Abby and Letty had managed to keep the peace. But at precisely two minutes to ten o'clock, Harrison strolled up the gangway.

  Ethan was surprised by the absolute lack of emotion he felt when he saw his father. Generally, just the thought of the man had the power to infuriate him, but the few times he'd seen him, he'd found himself curiously ambivalent. With measured precision, he set his glass down on the table and stood.

  Abby, he noted with some satisfaction, had begun making her way steadily toward him. She wore a look of determination that tempted him to wrap one arm around her waist and pull her against his side. She'd slug him, he figured, if he did that. He saw his aunt Letty shoot him a worried look. He answered with a slight wink that seemed to set her at ease.

  Harrison greeted two of his sisters before his gaze fell on Ethan. The older man's shoulders squared and the space between them seemed to stretch like a fathomless divide across the sleek wooden deck. Several seconds of nerve-racking silence cluttered the breezy air. Abby jabbed Ethan in the arm. "Say something," she demanded.

  He gave her a censorious look. The fierce expression in her eyes told him she was seriously contemplating kicking him in the shins if he didn't do something to break the tension. With a weary sigh, he faced Harrison again. "I won't say it's nice to see you," he announced. That won him another jab from Abby.

  Harrison scowled. "I can always count on you to be honest, at least."

  "At least," Ethan concurred.

  The collected members of the Montgomery brood watched anxiously as the two men squared off. Letty finally stepped forward and wrapped her hand through the bend of Harrison's arm. "Now, Harrison, don't be difficult. I invited Ethan to come today. He's my guest."

  Harrison scowled at his sister. "It's my yacht."

  Letty was undeterred. "And it's my party. So don't spoil it."

  "Damn it, Leticia—"

  She laughed. "Now I know you're mad. You never
call me Leticia unless you're positively fuming."

  Harrison glared at her. "I would have preferred a little notice."

  "I didn't know until yesterday." Letty glanced at Abby. "Abby will tell you. Won't you, dear?"

  Ethan had actually started to enjoy himself. He looked sideways at Abby, whose expression of discomfort somehow managed to look charming. She replied, "He got into town yesterday."

  "And you decided it was a good idea to bring him along?"

  Ethan folded his arms over his chest. "Actually, I decided that."

  Harrison continued to observe Abby with something close to condemnation. "What the hell were you thinking, Abby?"

  She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "For the love of—" Giving Ethan a hard look, she continued. "You're acting like ten-year-olds."

  "You can't possibly understand," Harrison said tightly.

  "And obviously, neither can you. What do you think is going on here—that I just figured I'd find a way to really piss you off today? Is that it?"

  Ethan swallowed a chuckle. Harrison's eyebrows drew together in a fierce frown. "Abigail, really!"

  She glared back at him. "For crying out loud, Harrison, you knew this was going to happen sooner or later. We talked about it yesterday."

  "I would have preferred something more private."

  "He's family," she said. The collective gasp of the Montgomery clan was so strong, Ethan was surprised it didn't ruffle the sail. Abby seemed undeterred. "He's got a right to be here."

  Harrison's face had turned red. "I'm not going to explain myself to you."

  "No," she said. "You aren't. You never would."

  "I don't have to."

  The verbal dart hit a nerve. Abby took a slight step back. "I don't suppose you do."

  Visibly frustrated, Harrison focused his angry stare on Ethan. It had little effect. He'd become immune to it years ago. "I should have known—"

  Abby held up a hand to interrupt him. "You could try acting like a grown-up." She looked at Ethan. "And so could you. If the testosterone gets any thicker up here, we'll need respirators."

  That remark won another muttered reaction from the Montgomerys. Ethan stifled a laugh and reached for Abby's hand. "Thanks for the tip, Miss Manners." He ignored her tug on his hand and tucked it close to his side. Giving her a beatific smile that amplified the fierceness in her gaze, he lowered his voice for her ears only. "I promised you I'd behave myself, didn't I?"

  "Then do it," she urged him through clenched teeth.

  From the corner of his eye Ethan saw Harrison staring at them, his jaw tightened to form a look Ethan remembered. Displeasure and anger were warring with his self-control. He had been on the receiving end of that look too many times. Letty gave her brother's arm a slight squeeze. Harrison stared hard at Ethan, then finally relented. Sending a silent, waved signal to his skipper to set sail, he turned his back on Ethan. The small crowd aboard the boat let out a collective gasp of relief.

  Abby finally managed to free her hand from Ethan's grip. "Ugh," she muttered beneath her breath.

  Ethan looked at Harrison's turned shoulder and fought a silent war with restraint. The tone in Abby's voice kicked his temper up another notch, but he couldn't disguise the anger in his eyes. "What did you say?"

  "I said, ugh."

  "You had to expect—"

  She held up her hand. "That's not what I meant. I meant, 'Ugh, why does he have to be so damned stubborn?' " She brushed her braid over her shoulder, and Ethan felt his equilibrium start to return.

  "He enjoys confrontation," Ethan said. "No matter what he says."

  "I know that."

  Would she ever stop surprising him? he wondered as he contemplated the idea that he couldn't remember the last time someone had defended him.

  A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth. "I'm blond, but that doesn't mean I'm dumb." She leaned a little closer to him. "And actually, by the strictest definition of the term, I'm not really blond either."

  He laughed, surprising himself. In a thousand years he wouldn't have believed he could walk away from a confrontation with his father and find something to laugh about. "Your stylist deserves a commendation, then."

  "My stylist has blue hair," she reminded him. There was a look of camaraderie and gratitude in her eyes. "In case I forget to tell you later, thank you for being so generous."

  He raised his eyebrows.

  "That could have been a lot uglier. Harrison probably would have liked an excuse to throw you off the yacht."

  "You can count on it."

  "Thanks for rising to the occasion."

  "Don't get your hopes up. The party's just starting."

  "But don't worry." She patted his arm. "I got you into this, and I'll get you out. Just follow my lead."

  The yacht pulled away from the dock while Harrison's family continued to feel their way gingerly through the emotional minefield on board. Ethan stood his ground, talking casually to anyone who approached him, but making no move toward his father. Abby upheld her end of the bargain by not leaving his side. Harrison finally meandered across the deck and stood directly in front of them. "I'll see you below in the lounge, Ethan," he said, his tone grim. "If you can spare the time." His gaze flicked to Abby. "Alone, I think, would be best."

  Abby frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea."

  "We aren't going to kill each other, Abigail," Harrison said.

  She gave Ethan a look that said she didn't quite trust that remark. He kept his expression deliberately impassive. Abby shook her head. "I just think I should be there."

  Harrison didn't relent. "Some things are better discussed without an audience."

  Irritation again flared in her eyes. "Think of it this way. It's like eastern Europe. The Russians"— she poked Harrison's chest—"were determined to annex the entire eastern bloc. The Balkans"— she indicated Ethan with her thumb—"were the wild card. They could have bolted at any time."

  "And where do you fit into this charming metaphor?" Harrison asked her.

  Abby nodded. "I'm Poland. I'm the buffer state that keeps everyone from killing each other."

  "Well, then, if the peace talks spin out of control, I'll send for you." He looked at Ethan. "Are you coming?"

  Ethan felt Abby tense beside him. She'd probably kill him for it later, but he couldn't resist the urge to touch her a final time. He cupped her face in one hand and bent his head to press a swift kiss to her lips. "Wait for me," he whispered.

  Abby glanced from him to Harrison and back again, then nodded. Ethan didn't miss the bitter stare she received from Harrison moments before the older man headed for the stairs.

  Harrison poured himself a bourbon as he watched Ethan across the heavily decorated room. The dark paneling and overstuffed furniture looked formal and outdated—like the owner, Ethan mused. "Drink?" his father asked.

  "No. I don't."

  Harrison regarded him with a raised eyebrow, then replaced the stopper in the decanter. "Charming display up there."

  Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. "Wasn't it? Reminded me of old times."

  Harrison slammed his tumbler down on the desk with such force, the amber liquid sloshed over the rim. "All right, Ethan, care to tell me what this is about?"

  "Letty invited me to come to Carlton's party," he said with deliberate calm. "It seemed like the best opportunity for you and me to set a few things straight."

  "Why? So you could ruin the event for my nephew?"

  Ethan shook his head and sat in one of the burgundy leather chairs. "No. I did it because I was relatively certain you wouldn't want to embarrass the poor guy by having me thrown overboard."

  Harrison stared at him for several seconds before he sat down behind the desk. "And Abby?" he asked.

  "Is old enough to make her own decisions."

  "And you think she'll decide on you?" Harrison's eyebrows drew together in a fierce frown.

  Ethan shrugged. "I don't know yet."
/>   "But you hope so?"

  "What's between Abby and me isn't really any of your business, Harrison."

  At the sharp rebuke, the older man straightened in his chair and regarded Ethan with a censorious frown. "Abigail doesn't deserve to be used."

  "Maybe I'm not using her."

  Harrison snorted. "You can't expect me to believe that the possibility of visiting revenge on me through Abby has escaped your attention."

  Ethan narrowed his gaze. "Why don't you tell me about that?" he probed. "Where did you find her, anyway?"

  Harrison swirled the drink in his glass. "Did your private investigator leave out some details? I know you've had someone doing an investigation."

  "I wasn't trying to keep it a secret."

  "Does Abby know?"

  "That's between me and Abby."

  Harrison scowled. "Damn you, Ethan. Why does it always have to be about winning and losing with you?"

  Ethan's laugh was humorless. "Because that's the pattern you established for me."

  "I never meant—" Harrison broke off with a shake of his head. "It's too late now. If you're hellbent on destroying me…"

  "If I was hell-bent on destroying you, I'd let your company go down in flames."

  "I'm not talking about MDS. Abby isn't part of that equation."

  "When did you become so softhearted toward your employees, Harrison? I remember a time when you wouldn't give them the time of day." Ethan pinned him with a harsh look. "No matter who they were."

  Harrison sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm not going to get into a discussion about your mother."

  "Of course not. You never would."

  "You don't understand."

  "No," Ethan said between clenched teeth. "I certainly don't."

  Harrison sagged in his chair, as if the weight of the conversation had become too much for him. He buried his face in his hands. "If I thought I could make you—" He paused and shook his head. "Abigail shouldn't be dragged into the middle of this. What's between you and me isn't her problem."

  "I don't plan to make it her problem."

  A few minutes of silence passed between them. Finally, Harrison placed his hands on the desk. "Tell me why you're really here, Ethan."