“But it wasn’t the dress,” a male voice said.
Ivy spun on her metal work stool. She knew that voice. But it didn’t belong here, in her lab on a Sunday morning.
“Carter?”
Chapter 22
“Why are you here?” Ivy rose up from her stool and turned to face a tired-looking Carter Burke. His dark curls looked as if he’d been running his fingers through his locks over and over. His beard looked ragged. “Don’t tell me you were just passing through Westchester,” she added.
He wore a white button-down shirt and clean slacks, but she suspected he only had a closet full of cleaned and pressed clothes thanks to his dragon-lady assistant.
Ivy glanced down at her own rumpled black pants. At least she’d pulled a white lab coat over her gray t-shirt. She was pretty sure there was a stain on it.
“I couldn’t work yesterday,” he said.
He kept his blue eyes fixed on her. She wondered if he even saw the windowless room lined with research tools around her.
“Tired?” she said and tried for a smile.
“No, Ivy. I missed you.”
“I think that’s my cue to leave.” Penelope scooped her computer up and headed for the door.
“You missed me?” Ivy challenged. “You’ve only known me for one night.”
“It was the best night I’ve had in a long, long time,” he said quietly. “I’d like to take you out again.”
Yes, yes, yes!
But her life wasn’t one grand adventure.
“I don’t have any friends at MoMA,” she said. “And I don’t like our chances of avoiding arrest if we tried a midnight tour of the Met.”
He shook his head. “Nothing that will get us arrested this time. Just dinner. No makeovers. No dinosaurs. You, me, and your favorite food. Which is?”
“Sushi,” she said.
“That works.” He smiled. “We’ll start with raw fish and you can tell me all of the usual first date stuff.”
“And then what? We continue dating while you shut down my lab? Maybe go wine tasting in the Hamptons in your Tesla while my research is boxed up and moved to storage? Spend Saturday night making love on your terrace and then I spend Monday looking for new funding?” Her hands formed fists and her voice rose. She wasn’t screaming at Carter Burke. Not yet.
“Ivy—”
“Even if I could set aside my work, which means everything to me, I know this won’t last. You might think I’m fun and adventurous now, but a few dates in and you’ll be bored.”
“I doubt that.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“You have so much power,” she continued. “You have assistants who move mountains on your orders.”
“All she did was order a dress and find a hairstylist,” he growled.
“Which I never asked for! I came to talk about my funding. Yes, I took you on an ill-advised adventure. I thought I could convince you. Silly me.” She shook her head. “I should have turned away when that dragon-lady showed me the gown. That’s not me, Carter.”
“No, you’re more than a dress, and I damn well know it.”
“I am. And this is my world.” She waved to the lab. “Right now, I need to focus on work. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t use the ‘I need to focus on work’ line on me,” he said bitterly. “I know that one really well. I thought…I thought you stayed over on Friday night for me, not just your research. I asked you.” He shook his head. “I guess I’m the fool for taking you at your word. My mistake. But I get it now. If I can’t deliver on your funding, if I can’t come through for you, then you don’t want me.”
He turned and headed for the door. “Good-bye, Ivy. And don’t worry. I won’t come back again.”
She waited until the door slammed shut.
“I did stay for you,” she whispered to the empty lab. She had stupidly thought one night would be enough. She’d believed she could live in the fantasy for a little while and then walk away with her funding. And now she wanted both—the man and the lifeline to her research. But she couldn’t date him while he shut down her life’s work.
“But now I’m staying away for me,” she said. “So you won’t break my heart over and over.”
Chapter 23
“This is a surprise.”
Carter strode into his mother’s penthouse and walked over to the round, marble dining room table. Her second decorator had selected a pure white theme. And his mother had dressed to match in a crisp, cream suit. For seventy, she looked regal and beautiful. Of course, he might be biased.
He bent and kissed her cheek. “For me, too,” he said as he straightened. “But I need your advice.”
He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared down at Central Park. He searched the trees, scanning the fields until he found the castle. It looked small from his mother’s home in the sky. He glanced back at his mom’s elaborately decorated breakfast area.
He would give all of this up—his entire kingdom—for his princess.
But it’s not all mine to give.
He’d come this far for his mother, his shareholders, and yes, himself. And he owed all of them a responsibility to work hard and keep their best interests in mind. But what about his best interests? If he was being honest with himself, he needed to face the fact that he’d exploded at Ivy an hour ago because agreeing to keep her lab open would’ve disappointed a lot of people. She’d fed him the all too familiar line about needing to focus on work, and he’d been tempted to tell her exactly what he thought about that. So he settled for telling his mother instead.
Carter turned to her at the table. “I fell in love on Friday night.”
He waited for his mother to laugh and tell him it was lust, boredom, or a mirage. But she simply set her china cup on the table and beamed.
“Excellent,” she said. “I’ve been hoping for grandchildren.”
Carter shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
Then he explained how Ivy had burst into his office, how she’d led him one adventure to another, how he’d fallen for her drive, her passion, her beauty. And how he’d hit a dead end.
“Do you believe she was only interested in your money?” his mother asked.
“No,” he said flatly.
Not my money. My company’s funds.
“But it doesn’t matter,” he lied. He wanted to believe she’d stayed for him, not her work. But he knew her priorities mirrored his. “She’d put her job first.”
“Sounds familiar.” His mother reclaimed her cup and lifted it to her lips. “And you’re certain you can’t provide the funding?”
“It’s not up to me. I have shareholders to think about.”
“And you don’t want to let any of us down,” his mother said. She rose and joined him by the window. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, but her presence felt solid and strong, just like when he was a child. “Do you know I would give all of this up, the view, the apartment—all of it, to make you happy?”
He glanced down at his mother. “Are you suggesting that I offer her my personal fortune? For an open-ended research project that may end up costing half a billion?”
“That’s one option,” his mother said. “But I think you should talk to your shareholders first. You’re so afraid to let them down. But have you stopped to think that they might support keeping this project going?”
“But the numbers—”
“The money isn’t always the most important thing, Carter. Asking for help from a room full of people who’ve supported your vision and your attempts to contribute something good to this world for a long time—that’s not a sign of weakness or failure.”
Carter stared out at the castle nestled in the trees. Hope rose up. His mother was right. If he got out of his own way for once, he could try to make Ivy’s dreams come true.
“I’ll do it.” He draped his arm over his mother’s shoulder. “I’ll ask.”
Chapter 24
“Yo
u’re underdressed.”
Ivy blinked. Her eyelashes brushed against the microscope’s eyepiece lens. She raised her head and glanced over her shoulder. “My designer lab coat is at the cleaners,” she informed Penelope. “But at least we match.” She returned to the specimen.
“I don’t have a reason to dress up for an ordinary Tuesday.” Penelope set her coffee thermos on the table beside the scope. “But there is a shiny, black stretch limo waiting downstairs for you.”
Ivy’s head shot up. “What?”
“The driver gave me this note.” Her assistant held out a folded piece of cream-colored paper. “He even knew my name.”
Ivy snatched the paper from Penelope. She flipped the note open and scanned the heading.
From the desk of Carter Burke
Penelope peered over Ivy’s shoulder. “I think you messed with the wrong billionaire,” she murmured. “This one won’t admit defeat.” Her assistant cocked her head. “I wonder if that’s one of the requirements to join the Billionaires’ Club.”
“He’s not part of a club,” Ivy said.
And he understands no. He knows when to back away, she thought. I could have put an end to our date at any point Friday night.
Even after they’d slept together, he’d driven her back to the hotel. He’d kissed her hand and said good-bye. He’d let her go without a fight…until he’d waltzed into her lab and she’d delivered an argument designed to chase him off.
What if he wants to fight for me?
“This note says ‘Please join me for coffee. No gowns this time. But I promise I’ve opened my eyes. I’ll do the right thing.’” Ivy looked up at her friend. “No gowns. I’m not underdressed.”
“I know.” Penelope stuck her hand into the box of doughnuts Ivy had picked up on the way into the lab and selected a powdered treat. “I read the note on the way up. But when you see the limo, you’ll wish you’d worn your fancy black skirt and that vintage cream blouse you bought last year.” Her assistant licked the powdered sugar off the top and then took a bite.
“Maybe I’ll ask the driver to stop at my condo and I’ll change.” Ivy picked up her purse.
“You’re going?”
Ivy nodded. “When the boss sends a limo—”
“He’s not just the leader of the Burke Initiative. Not after Friday night.”
“Maybe he’s changed his mind about the funding.” And keeping the lab open, Ivy thought.
But part of her hoped he’d stuck to his principles. The man she’d fallen for on Friday night wouldn’t throw his shareholders under the bus because the woman he wanted turned him away.
Carter Burke was a good man.
He just couldn’t be hers.
Ivy stepped into the elevator. She reached into her purse as the doors closed. Her hand wrapped around her niece’s ChapStick. She pulled it out and applied a sparkling layer to her lips.
Please don’t do something stupid, Carter. Please tell me you need cancer research and big, fat returns for your investors. Because if you say you need me…
She closed her eyes. What would she do? Would she choose her work over him? She’d turned him away on Sunday. Could she do it again?
Chapter 25
“Carter Burke, what have you done?”
Ivy followed her disgruntled fairy godmother across the Pierre Hotel lobby’s familiar black-and-white checkered floor. Mrs. Lindsey had greeted the limo, taken one look at Ivy’s lab coat, and murmured, “I should have called for a Chanel suit.” Then Carter’s assistant marched Ivy inside.
“Wait.” Ivy placed her hand on Mrs. Lindsey’s arm. “He invited me to coffee. Like Starbucks. Or Dunkin’ Donuts.”
Mrs. Lindsey looked down at her hand with a sneer, as if Ivy’s fingers might have left marks on her sleeve. “Mr. Burke requested your company in the ballroom. The coffee service is on the right. Once you’ve poured a cup, please take a seat near the back. You’re late and they’ve already started.”
“Started what?” Ivy demanded as Mrs. Lindsey withdrew her arm.
Carter’s assistant blazed a path through the lobby to the elevators. Inside, she pressed the button for the ballroom level.
“A real fairy godmother would tell me,” Ivy muttered as the elevator rose.
Mrs. Lindsey tilted her chin up a notch. “I work for Mr. Burke.”
Don’t I know it. Just like Friday night wasn’t my gateway to happily ever after, she thought. It just felt like it.
Ivy followed Carter’s assistant out of the elevator and into the hallway leading to the ballroom. She’d been such a mix of nerves and determination Friday night when she’d marched up this staircase and into the pillar-less space.
Friday night’s fairy-filled trees had vanished along with the women dressed in gowns and the men in tuxedos. All traces of the Shakespearean fairy tale were gone, almost as if they’d never existed. In their place stood dozens of large, round tables flanked by men and women in business attire.
“Now, I give you the man you came from across the country—and for some, across the ocean—to see,” a woman’s voice filled the foyer. Ivy turned her attention to the podium where an elegant woman in a white suit stood in front of a large screen.
“Carter Burke!” the woman called into the microphone. She stepped back. The man Ivy had waltzed through the gala with on Friday night rose from a pair of chairs set to the right of the podium. He scanned the crowd as he headed for the microphone. When he spotted her, he paused and grinned.
Ivy looked away, focusing her attention on the large screen at his back. It read: Burke Initiative Bi-Annual Shareholders’ Meeting. She glanced around for an empty seat.
What was he thinking? Inviting me to “coffee” with his shareholders? Just so he can reject my funding again?
She bit her bottom lip as Carter took his place behind the podium and adjusted the microphone. Was he trying to prove his point? Was he determined to drive home the fact that he couldn’t fund her research?
She pulled a chair from a half-filled table in the rear of the room. Then she paused. Part of her wanted to storm out of here. She’d received the message loud and clear the other night. He had his work, his priorities, and she had hers. They didn’t overlap anymore.
On the other hand, she couldn’t see the man who’d carried her into Central Park, who’d danced on the Belvedere Castle terrace with her, inviting her to an elaborate showing of “I’m Right, You’re Wrong.”
Ivy sat.
“First, I would like to thank my mother for introducing me,” he said. “I asked her to attend today’s meeting because she recently pushed me to do something I’ve always shied away from—ask for your help.”
He paused and a hushed murmur spread from table to table. Ivy glanced around, counting tables and chairs. She quickly did the math—about one hundred of the Burke Initiative’s shareholders were here.
“Twice a year, I stand in front of you and run through the numbers. I share our successes—and we’ve had a lot—” A smattering of applause interrupted and Carter raised his hand. “I’m proud of the wins, too. When I look at my spreadsheets and see the profits, when I sign the checks that prove I’m holding true to my promise to invest your money as I would my own, when I think of the children you hope to send to college with your slice of our growing pie—”
“Hear, hear!” a man called from a neighboring table.
Carter laughed. “That’s right, Greg. I think about how much you’re going to owe Princeton over the next four years. And congratulations, by the way, on your son’s early acceptance.”
There was another round of applause, and this time, Carter waited for it to die down before speaking again.
“When I look at my balance sheets, the profit and loss statements, I see your stories. But until recently, I wasn’t looking at our investments in the same light.” He paused and took a sip of water.
Ivy leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. Her elbow landed on the business end of a teaspoon. T
he utensil flipped off the table and catapulted into her neighbor’s lap. Ivy issued a quick apology, and then turned her attention back to the stage. Right now, she didn’t care if she embarrassed herself. Whether she fit in—or not—the question no longer mattered. With every word out of his beautiful, kissable mouth, her hope kicked up another notch.
He’s going to keep the lab open. Please, please, please, tell me that is why I’m here.
“Now, I’m not talking about layoffs here,” Carter continued. “I’m referencing the people—the families—we impact when the scientists we support get it right. And why we owe it to them to keep all of our labs open.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Ivy whispered. The man who’d caught her flying spoon glanced over at her. She raised one hand to her lips and covered her mouth.
“Yes, we can fund cancer research,” Carter said. “I’m committed to up-keeping that lab and increasing our investment. But not at the expense of the other research endeavors. Even if those projects fail in their quest for a cure. Even if they succeed, but the result only saves a handful of lives versus millions—I’m willing to take that risk.”
Ivy fought the urge to pump her fist in the air. She’d won. She’d fought for her research, and she’d won!
“Today, I’m standing up here asking for your support. Your help,” the man who was making her dreams come true said. “I’m asking you to trust in my vision for the Burke Initiative.”
“I’m in!” Greg called.
“Thanks, Greg.” Carter smiled, but it only lasted a second. “I didn’t start this company running from failure. I stood up and fought for the chance to succeed. And that’s what our scientists and researchers do every day. They fight. For answers, for funding, for cures. Now, if you’re wondering what projects in particular I’m talking about, I have one of our leading researchers here today.” He looked at her table. This time, when their eyes locked, she didn’t look away.
“Dr. Grant,” he said. “I’d like to invite you up onto the stage to tell your story.”
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