Marrying the Manhattan Millionaire

by Braun, Jackie

“Any luck in that regard?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said with wounding honesty. But then he added, “Until I talked to you after the Addy Awards in Atlanta.”

  That brought her back to a most salient point. “So much time has passed. So much between us has changed. We’re rivals, Michael. We work at competing agencies.”

  “And you work for your father.” It came out not as an accusation, but almost as a regret.

  “I have no plans to quit,” she told him. They needed to be clear on that.

  “I know. You’re next in line for the throne,” he murmured.

  “I’ve worked hard, Michael. I’ve earned it.” She said it emphatically to quell the worries that her father still might not view it that way.

  Michael seemed to read her mind. “I know that you have, Sam. But has Randolph noticed? Has he given you the pat on the back you’ve been hungering for your entire life? Has he finally looked at you not as a fill-in for Sonya, but as being competent and talented in your own right?”

  Anger bubbled to the surface, hot and lethal. God, she wished she hadn’t dropped her wine. She’d be throwing it in his face right now.

  “It’s always been so damned easy for you to judge me!” she shouted, slashing a hand through the air. “After all these years, how is it possible that you still haven’t got a clue? You were born not only with a silver spoon in your mouth, but with a set of doting parents who’ve tripped over themselves in their praise of your accomplishments and helped you get back up on the occasions when you failed.”

  He folded his hands on the tabletop and leaned forward. “That’s the way it’s supposed to work. Parents are supposed to be there for you. They aren’t supposed to make you earn their affection. And they’re sure as hell not supposed to play favorites.”

  Her eyes began to sting. “As an only child you know this how?”

  “Don’t try to cloud the issue with an argument over family size. I was the one who wiped your tears when Randolph kept insisting there were no openings at Bradford for an account executive even though he created a position for Sonya after she graduated. I was the one who suggested a fresh start in Los Angeles where we could both work at the same agency and you wouldn’t feel so funny about working for someone other than your dad. You know I’m right.”

  Yes, she did. So she changed tactics. “You don’t have to work.”

  “Why not? My parents and grandparents worked hard for what they have. I’ve never felt my inheritance should make me lazy. I knew too many people like that growing up. Besides, my wealth isn’t the issue!”

  “Maybe not, but since you’re having a field day analyzing my motivations and missteps, I’d say a little quid pro quo is in order. Why haven’t you started your own agency yet? What’s stopping you?

  His gaze narrowed and he shifted back in his seat. “You know my reasons, Sam. They haven’t changed.”

  “Yes, yes.” She nodded and waved a hand. “But you know what I think? I think all your talk about gaining experience and using only money you’ve earned on your own is a convenient excuse.”

  “So what’s the real reason?”

  “I don’t know.” She hunched her shoulders, and though it was low, she asked, “Could the mighty Michael Lewis be afraid of failure?”

  Her comment didn’t get the reaction she expected. He didn’t shoot out of his chair and then stomp out of the apartment. No. He regarded her quietly, his brow crinkling as if something had just occurred to him.

  “I’m not afraid of failing, Sam. But maybe you’re right. Maybe I do have other reasons for dragging my feet.”

  “Look, it’s late. I’m tired and this is old ground. There’s really no point in plowing through it a second time.” Sam stood and took a step toward the French doors. She had forgotten all about the busted wineglass until a pointy shard of it pierced the thin sole of her slipper and wedged itself in her heel.

  “Ow!”

  She crumpled back onto the chair, sucking a deep breath in through clenched teeth as she pulled the injured foot onto the opposite knee to inspect the damage. Michael was at her side before she’d removed the slipper. He did the honors for her, taking the glass with it. Blood had already pooled at the wound site. He pulled a handkerchief from his rear pocket and wiped it away.

  “I don’t think you’ll require stitches, but let’s get you inside where the light is better and take care of it.”

  Before Sam could protest, he’d swung her up into his arms. Holding her firmly to his chest, he strode into the apartment.

  “It’s just a little cut,” she objected, though admittedly it hurt like the dickens. “I can take care of it myself.”

  Michael lowered her onto the couch without saying a word and disappeared down the hall. He returned a moment later with a hand towel, bandages, some cotton balls and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

  “Wh-what do you think you’re going to do with that?” Sam asked, pointing at the rubbing alcohol.

  “I’m going to disinfect the wound.”

  “My glass was filled with wine.” She picked up the bottle of Cabernet Franc that sat on the coffee table and tapped its label. “Twelve percent alcohol by volume. It says so right here. Under the circumstances, I’d say the use of rubbing alcohol is overkill.”

  “Germs won’t think so.” He offered his most charming smile. “And I’d hate to have you lose your foot to some nasty infection because I was remiss.”

  “I promise not to sue.”

  “Even a little infection would make it difficult for you to walk.” He stopped, shrugged. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. If you’re out of commission you won’t be able to go after my clients.”

  Sam stuck out her foot. “Have at it.”

  Michael uncapped the bottle and soaked the cotton ball before kneeling in front of her. Cradling her heel in one hand, he said, “This won’t hurt…much.”

  Of course it did. So much so she nearly kicked him in the chin. “God! Are you trying to kill me?”

  “You always were such a wimp when it came to pain,” he remarked.

  “Please. I wear three-inch heels to work every day. I can tolerate…pain…very well.” Her thoughts fractured when he began to blow on her foot.

  He glanced up, eyes gleaming. “Better?”

  “Somewhat.” Actually, it was other parts of her that had begun to ache now.

  He applied a bandage and she figured that was the end of it. But he kept hold of her foot. “Maybe I should rub your arch so it doesn’t feel neglected.”

  “Knock yourself out.” She shrugged though she wanted to purr. How embarrassing would that be? But the man had a great set of hands and he knew how to use them.

  Michael didn’t just rub her arch. He massaged it, pressing firmly with his thumbs. She was teetering on the edge of insanity when he leaned over and kissed the spot where his thumbs had been, and she was sent into a freefall. On the way down, Sam was pretty sure she purred.

  Chagrinned, she stole a glance at him. He didn’t look triumphant or smug. He looked every bit as tortured and turned on as she felt. Heaven help them both.

  “Sam.” He whispered her name as he set her foot aside, giving him the opportunity to move into the space between her legs. Still kneeling on the floor, he settled his hands on her hips.

  “We can’t…”

  He pulled her forward, to the edge of the couch cushion. Nuzzling her neck, he asked, “Why not?”

  “Michael, we’re different people now,” she began.

  “I think so, too. Which, in a way, means we have no history.” His mouth was on her shoulder and he was tugging aside the pullover so he could have better access to it. “When you think about it that way, it makes sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Of course, nothing was making sense at the moment. “We’re going after each other’s clients.”

  “So?” His teeth nipped at her heated skin.

  “S-s-so?” she managed to gasp out. “Even without our history, I’d sa
y that makes us rivals.”

  “In business,” he agreed. He gave up on the neckline of her pullover and reached for the hem. His gaze shot to hers. The look in his eyes was challenging, hungry and damned persuasive. “This is pure—”

  “Pleasure.” She sighed out the word and helped him pull the top over her head.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MICHAEL woke up a few hours before dawn. He considered staying the night. He wanted to and he doubted Sam would object if he did, but he climbed out of bed, dressed quietly in her dark bedroom and, after leaving a note next to the coffeemaker, let himself out of the apartment.

  He needed to think and he couldn’t do that with Sam’s heated body pressed up against his.

  The sex had been phenomenal, of course. Better even than he remembered, and that was saying a lot. Despite their mutual hunger and eagerness, they’d taken their time getting reacquainted with one another’s bodies. They’d definitely been rewarded for their restraint. But as he made his way back to his apartment in the wee hours of the morning, he thought about Sam’s comment about opening an agency.

  He wasn’t afraid of failing. He had the know-how and he certainly could muster enough clients to kick his business venture off in high gear. Nor was it purely a matter of using his own funds to finance start-up costs, which had been his most handy excuse during the past seven years. No, the fact was, Michael had put it off because he didn’t want to do it alone. He wanted a partner.

  Back when they’d been engaged, he’d known Sam would be that partner. Though they’d never really talked about it, it had been assumed they’d go into business together. She had such a fine eye for detail. He could always see the big picture. Together they made an excellent team.

  After their breakup, Michael still had harbored dreams of becoming his own boss. He’d told himself that just as he didn’t need Sam as his wife, he didn’t need her professionally. Still he’d found reasons to tread slowly. Now he thought he knew why, and it scared the hell out of him.

  Maybe rekindling their relationship wasn’t such a good idea. Of course, it wasn’t as if he’d proposed marriage again or anything else so serious. But where else was this heading? Casual and Sam were two things he knew didn’t mix. They might be able to keep business and pleasure separate and distinct, but could they pick up where they’d left off seven years ago without risking falling in love again? Or hurting each other for the second time? And if the latter occurred, could he survive it?

  Sam was woven into every facet of his life, which was why their first breakup still haunted him. How ironic, he thought, that he’d come back to New York with the hope of exorcising the woman from his heart, only to wind up welcoming her back into it.

  Of course, certain things were clearer to him now than they were then. Given Sonya’s worsened condition, he understood why Sam had stayed in Manhattan. But it also was clear that Sam was still eager for her father’s affection and approval.

  What if that never changed?

  A few hours later, Michael was still struggling to find the answers to his many questions when his cell phone trilled. He’d already showered, shaved and dressed and was on his way to the office after having stopped at the coffee shop on the corner for a bagel and cup of French roast. It was a nice morning, still cool since the sun hadn’t made it over the tops of the buildings. Though the distance between his apartment and his office was anything but short, he’d opted to walk.

  After juggling his briefcase, the coffee and the bag that held the bagel so that he could answer the phone, he said, “Good morning.”

  “Is it?” Sam’s tone was dubious. “I wouldn’t know since I woke up alone.”

  He pictured her in the big four-poster bed, a cream-colored duvet hiding satiny skin. After swallowing hard, he said, “Sorry about that. I didn’t want to disturb you. You were sleeping so peacefully when I got up.”

  He should have known Sam would see right through his embellishment of the truth.

  “You’re a liar as well as a coward, Michael.” Her tone was curiously conversational, though, leaving him to wonder if she was truly angry with him. “You ducked out on me because you wanted to deal with your morning-after regrets in private.”

  The silence stretched as he tried to come up with a suitable reply.

  “Well?” she nudged.

  “I wouldn’t call them regrets,” he said slowly. “Although I do have some…concerns.”

  She let out an indelicate snort. “You might have mentioned those concerns to me last night before you helped me off with my shirt.”

  Don’t forget the lacy bra, he thought. He certainly hadn’t, which was why he stammered, “I…I got caught up in the moment.” He sucked in a breath. “It was one hell of a moment.”

  Her husky laughter came as a relief. “Yes, it was. I guess I got caught up in it, too.”

  “Twice,” he reminded her.

  More laughter followed, even huskier than before. “Yeah, well, I was hoping for a third bout with insanity this morning, but your side of the bed was empty.”

  Michael had reached a corner just as she offered the suggestive comment. Failing to heed the Don’t Walk sign, he stepped out into traffic and nearly got run over by a speeding taxi. Its blaring horn and the driver’s shouted curse brought him back to his senses.

  “It sounds like you’re in your car,” Sam noted.

  At the moment, he wished he was. “Actually, I’m walking down Columbus Avenue. And thanks to your very distracting comment I nearly became a taxi cab’s hood ornament.”

  “Why are you walking and where are you going?”

  “You’re just full of questions this morning,” he said.

  “You know me. I always feel chatty after sex.”

  “Yeah.” They used to lie awake for hours, wrapped in each others arms as they shared their dreams and secrets. He diluted that dangerous memory with teasing humor. “Maybe it’s a good thing then that we stopped after two rounds between the sheets or you’d never shut up.”

  “I’m going to forget you said that.” But then her tone turned serious. “Instead of telling me where you’re going, why don’t you tell me where we’re headed?”

  “I’ve been trying to figure that out ever since I left your place, Sam.”

  “And?”

  “Just for the record, I’m sorry for leaving this morning without saying goodbye, even if I did kiss you while you were sleeping and leave a note by the coffeepot.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  He sighed. “If you were anyone else, this would be simple. We’d spend some time together, get to know each other better. You know, go on dates, talk, fool around a lot.”

  “Last night you said that since we’d changed so much in the past seven years it meant we didn’t really have a history,” Sam reminded him.

  Michael stopped walking. “I know I said that. But we do, Sam. And it’s been front and center in my mind ever since I woke up.”

  “I see.”

  “No,” he protested. “I don’t think you do. After things ended between us, it took me a long time to feel whole again and start living my life solo.” Thinking of his stalled agency plans, he finished with, “In fact, I don’t know if I really ever have.”

  It was a hell of an admission, one he’d never thought he’d make, especially to her. It left him feeling exposed, but he needed to be totally honest.

  “A piece of me has been missing, too,” she replied.

  At her words, Michael closed his eyes. God, they were a pair. They couldn’t go back, undo the mistakes they’d made in the past. It remained to be seen if they could move forward.

  “I’d say we both have a lot at stake.”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “Why don’t we take a few days, do some hard thinking about what we want?” he suggested.

  “You mean, look at the situation without the haze of hormones obscuring our vision?”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled softly.

  “That’
s probably a good idea,” she conceded. “In the meantime I have plenty to keep me busy at work, if you know what I mean.”

  He did indeed. The Herriman account.

  Research. Landing an account as large as Herriman Luxury Hotels required a lot of it. Sam had spent the better part of the past couple of weeks establishing a target market. It had been no easy task since she was doing so without input from anyone at Herriman, but she was comfortable with her conclusions. The chain was known for its high-end amenities and services for wealthy guests, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t also appeal to business travelers and vacationing families.

  The chain had hotels in every major metropolitan area in the United States as well as select cities abroad. Accommodations in several of them were currently being renovated, which, as she sat at her desk late one night, Sam concluded could be the jumping-off point for a new campaign.

  She rubbed her weary eyes and tried to envision a television commercial, but thoughts of Michael distracted her. It had been nearly a week since she’d woken up alone after that incredible night of sex. Oddly enough, when she’d glanced over to find the opposite side of the bed empty, she hadn’t been angry or hurt as much as curious. What was Michael feeling? So, she’d called him, hoping to ferret out a clue.

  After things ended between us, it took me a long time to feel whole again and start living my life solo. In fact, I don’t know if I really ever have.

  She could still hear him saying the words. They played through her mind at regular intervals. How she wished she could have seen his face when he said them. Not to determine his sincerity, that had come through loud and clear, but to revel in it.

  His honesty had staggered her, which was why she’d agreed to his suggestion that they step back and take time to evaluate the situation before seeing each other again. The idea had seemed so sensible at the time. It was turning out to be pure torture, especially since her body and her mind kept reaching conflicting conclusions.

  Her head said take care. This was one flame that might be best left to flicker out completely lest Sam find herself burned beyond any hope of recovery.