Kissing Her Enemy

by Coleen Kwan

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Find your Bliss with these great releases… Wedding Date Rescue

  Falling for the Best Man

  How to Lose a Bachelor

  Falling for Her Enemy

  Also by Coleen Kwan… Real Men Don’t Break Hearts

  Real Men Don’t Quit

  One Real Man

  White-Hot Holiday

  Baiting the Boss

  Undercover in the CEO’s Bed

  His Millionaire Maid

  Unexpectedly Yours

  Best Friends with the Billionaire

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Coleen Kwan. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Bliss is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit http://www.entangledpublishing.com/category/bliss

  Edited by Lydia Sharp and Stacy Abrams

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Cover art from iStock

  ISBN 978-1-63375-886-5

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition February 2017

  Chapter One

  Amber Miller slammed on the brakes, her battered pickup truck jerking to a halt just inches from a sleek silver Lexus. Flinging her hair back, she jumped out of the truck and marched toward the building that housed the headquarters of Wright Inc. Don’t stop now, she told herself. Don’t let them intimidate you.

  But she made the mistake of pausing to take in the handsome stone building—one of the first banks built in Pine Falls at the end of the nineteenth century—that the Wright family used for business and entertaining. The building reflected the Wrights’ standing—solid, upstanding, wealthy, established. Everything her family wasn’t.

  She strode forward but then paused at the entrance as she caught a reflection of herself in the glass doors. Her reddish-brown hair was coming loose from its ponytail, her tight jeans bore a rip in the thigh, and her Timberland nubuck boots were covered in sawdust from earlier this morning when she’d demonstrated a circular saw to a customer at her hardware store. She definitely didn’t look her best going into the Wrights’ headquarters. For a second, self-doubt flickered in her, that hideous feeling that she didn’t fit in, that she wasn’t good enough.

  But then she remembered what was at stake, not just for her, but for the other store owners. Their anxious faces were fresh in her mind. These were more than just neighbors; they were her friends, her community, and they were counting on her. For everyone’s sake she couldn’t back down now. She marched into the foyer, her dusty boots clomping on the tiled floor, and halted to get her bearings. Despite herself, she couldn’t help admiring the black-and-white marble tiles, the sandstone columns supporting the coffered ceiling, and the brass pots with their glossy plants. This was the first time she’d been inside the building, and she had to admit the Wrights had taste.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?” a voice said.

  She turned to see a slim young man dressed in a suit rise from a desk and move toward her.

  “I’m here to see Logan Wright,” Amber declared in a confident tone.

  The young man blinked and clasped his hands together. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Are you Logan’s secretary?”

  He beamed with pride. “Yes, I’m Mr. Logan Wright’s personal assistant. Pablo Garcia, at your service.” He gave her a little head bob.

  “Well, Pablo—I can call you that, right?—you and I both know I don’t have an appointment with Mr. Logan Wright”—she emphasized the name sarcastically—“but I’m going to see him anyway.” Scanning the foyer, she found a heavy teak door with brass fittings near Pablo’s desk and started to march toward it.

  Looking alarmed, Pablo scampered after her and blocked her way. “Er, I’m sorry, Miss, er—but I can’t let you barge in on Mr. Logan.”

  “It’s Miller. Amber Miller.” She looked the guy up and down. He was an inch taller than she was but as slim and green as a fresh asparagus shoot. “That’s a really nice suit you have there, Pablo.”

  He tugged at his lapels. “Uh, thank you, Miss, uh, Miller.”

  “Call me Amber. You see what I’m wearing?” She gestured at her jeans, boots, and T-shirt. “I don’t care about getting dirty in this, but it’d be a shame to mess up your brand spanking new suit.”

  Pablo gulped, but to his credit he stood his ground. “I—I’m sorry, but Mr. Logan would fire me if I didn’t do my job properly. Now I really must insist—”

  “Sorry, Pablo, but I must insist.” She took a step, feinting to her right, then, as he went to mimic her, she switched direction, dodged past him on the left, and stormed toward Logan Wright’s office.

  She had almost reached it when the door swung open and a cool, svelte blonde in a tight suit and high heels minced out of the office. The blonde was so busy talking to someone over her shoulder that she cannoned straight into Amber.

  “Oof,” Amber grunted as she bounced off the woman.

  “Argh!” The blonde let out a squeal. Tossing back her sleek, bobbed hair, she glared at Amber with ice-cold eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The man who’d been holding the door open for the blonde moved forward. “You okay there, Emily?” Then his gaze fell on Amber, and for a second his face was blank before recognition flared in his eyes and his dark eyebrows drew into a slight V. “Amber? Amber Miller?” Incredulity echoed in his tone.

  She swallowed as his familiar voice peeled back the years. Logan’s voice, as smooth and seductive as molten dark chocolate, had been the first thing about him to lure her. Before, he’d been just another arrogant jock in high school she ignored, but then she’d heard him read an excerpt from I Sing the Body Electric in their English class, and his voice, mellifluous and enticing, had riveted her. Line by line, he’d reeled her in, until it seemed he was reading the poem just for her. When she’d finally, grudgingly looked up, she’d found his peridot eyes fixed on her, and the look in them had stolen her breath away.

  Just like they were stealing her breath now. Oh, for God’s sakes! What was the matter with her? After all these years she couldn’t still be hung up on Logan, could she? No, he’d caught her by surprise, that was all.

  “Mr. Logan, I’m so sorry,” Pablo broke in, flapping his hands. “I tried to stop her, but—”

  “You should’ve tried harder,” the blonde snapped, flicking at her slick navy suit as if she’d come into contact with a herd of cows. “Honestly, Logan, I don’t know why you hired him, when he can’t even monitor your visitors.” Her irked gaze landed on Amber, taking in her casual outfit, and her lips grew pinched. “You there. Have you come to water the plants or something? You should watch where you’re going.”

  Logan was still staring at A
mber, and she, God help her, couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him.

  “Emily, it’s Amber Miller,” he said. “We all went to high school together, remember?”

  Emily’s finely plucked eyebrows shot up. “Amber Miller? You mean the weirdo whose dad picked up roadkill?”

  Amber lifted her chin. She was starting to remember Emily now. One of those snotty, stuck-up girls who’d sniggered and whispered about her, so many of them they’d become a blur.

  “Yeah, that’s right. He taught me how to deal with vermin.” That wasn’t true; her dad had never taught her anything in her life—except that men could be the biggest jackasses. He’d fooled around with her mom, got her pregnant, then skedaddled back to his long-suffering wife, and hadn’t even had the decency to move away to a different town. To make matters worse, over the years he had continued to ping-pong between his wife and Amber’s mom. All her dad had ever done for Amber was make her an easy target for girls like Emily.

  Emily clutched at Logan’s arm, feigning alarm. “Ooh, yes, it’s Gingernut, all right. Still has the temper to match her hair, I see.” She turned to Logan and batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, well. Come on, honey, let’s go to the country club for lunch. I could do with a drink.”

  Logan, seemingly impervious to Emily’s fluttering eyelashes, pried her fingers from the sleeve of his well-cut suit. “Another time, Emily. Good talking to you. Bye for now.” With practiced ease he steered her toward the exit before quickly swinging back to Amber. He gestured toward his office. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Logan!” Emily pouted. Then, seeing the futility of protesting, she glared one more time at Amber before stalking out of the building, her four-inch heels click-clacking in disapproval.

  “Hold all my calls, Pablo,” Logan said to his hapless assistant. “And I mean all of them.”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Um, do you want any coffee or—”

  “No, thanks, Pablo. Just hold the calls.”

  “Yes, sure…”

  The young man’s babblings were cut short as Logan ushered Amber into his office and shut the door.

  For the first time she was finally able to take a good look at him without any distractions. Then, she wished she hadn’t, because it seemed he still had the ability to take her breath away. Much to her disgust, her lungs tightened as she gulped in the sight of him. In the years since she’d last seen him he’d put on muscle in all the right places, and his sharply tailored suit highlighted his broad chest, slim hips, and long legs. In high school he’d been good-looking in a boy band way, but the years had added maturity and raw sex appeal to his hooded green eyes, his full lips, his square chin with its intriguing dimple. His thick, slightly wavy hair sat a half-inch below his collar, but it suited him, its glossy blackness inviting her to run her fingers through— Hang on just a darn second! She was not going to be running her fingers through Logan’s hair, no matter how glossy and inviting it was.

  What was wrong with her? Why were her hormones going haywire now of all times?

  Logan took his time looking her over, his eyes frankly appreciative. “You look good, Amber. It’s been a long time, but I’m glad to see you again.”

  His husky voice reverberated through her; he sounded like he really meant it. Was he glad to see her? Even after what had happened between them? But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted; she had to get on top of the situation.

  “I’m sorry I can’t say the same for you.”

  “I don’t look good? Why? Have I put on weight or something?” He flicked his jacket aside and rested his hands on his hips, drawing her attention to how well his pants fit him.

  She jerked her gaze away from his legs. “I meant I’m not glad to see you.”

  He put on a hurt expression, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m crushed,” he said, looking anything but. “Here I was thinking you’d rushed in to welcome me back to Pine Falls, maybe even invite me out for a drink.”

  “I’ll leave that to Emily,” she tartly responded. “She seemed all over you. Are you dating her?”

  Logan looked startled. “No, I’m not dating her. She’s with Deakin and Claybourne, my lawyers. She’s Emily Claybourne.”

  “Deakin and Claybourne. Lawyers. Ah, I should have guessed.” Once again her stomach twisted into a painful knot, just like it had a few hours ago. She drew in a breath to steady herself. “I got a letter from them this morning.” She felt inside the back pocket of her jeans, her fingers slightly clumsy, and pulled out the letter in question. “Something about an offer to purchase.”

  A puzzled look came over Logan’s face. “You got an offer?”

  “Yeah, just like all the store owners on my street did. You want to buy us all out.” She paused. “Why are you confused? Don’t you know about this?”

  He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “I’m planning to redevelop the block on Colfax Road, yes, but what does that have to do with you?”

  “I own the hardware store on Colfax Road!” she burst out, unable to contain her feelings any longer. “Jesus, don’t you know that?”

  He waved a hand. “My lawyers are responsible for contacting the property owners.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Bennett’s Home Center? That’s really yours?”

  “Yes, it’s mine, and there’s no need to look so incredulous,” she seethed. “I might have grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, but I do have enough brains to run my own business.”

  “But what happened to old Tom Bennett?”

  “He retired two years ago and sold the business to me. He’s down in Florida now, sipping mai tais and wooing the ladies in his retirement village.”

  She owed Tom Bennett a lot. He’d given her part-time work while she was studying at the local community college for her associate degree, and then, later on, when the garden center in Sacramento had made her redundant and she’d wanted to return to Pine Falls, he’d hired her full time. She’d worked hard for Tom, and in return he’d shown her what running a small business really took. When he’d turned sixty-eight and grew tired of the long hours and cold winters, he’d offered her the business, helping her to organize her finances so that they could both achieve their dreams. She missed Tom, still called the old man at least once a month. He was the closest thing she’d ever had to a father figure.

  Logan was looking at her with startled eyes. Was he so amazed that someone like her, who’d grown up in a trailer park, with no daddy and a mom whose proudest achievement was winning a Cher lookalike competition, could pull herself up by her bootstraps and own a viable business?

  “Is it true?” she blurted.

  “Is what true?” he asked, still looking astounded.

  “That you’re planning to raze the whole block and build a mega hardware store?” Acid spiked in her stomach. A mega center, with a hundred times more product than hers and the financial muscle to undercut every one of her prices, would sound the death knell for her little corner store. And it wasn’t like she could simply relocate to another part of town. A business that size would put the hammer on all small hardware stores within a fifty-mile radius. When she’d heard the rumor this morning from her neighbor Peggy, who ran a bakery, her innards had scrambled, and as each of her other neighbors had repeated the same story, the sick feeling had intensified. Surely it wasn’t true? Surely all her hard work and dreams of independence would not be wiped out?

  Logan let out a breath. His gaze steadied on her, his expression stripped of all levity. “Yes, it’s true.”

  Three small words pierced the shell of bravado that had held her together this far. She felt herself crack inside, felt her fears seep out like toxic oil. But no way in hell was she going to break down in front of Logan Wright. He’d humiliated her once, a long time ago back in high school. She’d gotten over it, but the scar was still there, a lingering reminder. She wouldn’t let him hurt her again.

  She slapped the letter on his desk and glowered at him.


  “Well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Maybe you expect everyone to roll over and play nice for you because you’re a Wright and your family practically founded this town, but I’m not one of them. I’m not selling to you or to anyone else, so you can just take your offer and stick it somewhere dark and uncomfortable.”

  …

  Logan Wright tugged at his silk tie. The damn thing was too tight, too hot. But he knew the tie wasn’t responsible for his rise in temperature but the woman who stood before him, vibrating with defiance and sass.

  How many years had passed since he’d last spoken with Amber Miller? Must be going on twelve years. To his surprise, their last encounter was still fresh in his memory, especially the glass of Coke she’d dumped over his head in front of Tatum. Yeah, he could still remember the sticky liquid dribbling through his hair, the ice cubes sliding down his neck, the embarrassment reddening his face while the other diners in the restaurant snickered at him. As if that evening hadn’t been difficult enough, with Tatum behaving like they were still dating and him trying to make her understand that it really was over. He’d felt like a giant dork, with everyone staring at him and Tatum squealing in horror. Sure, maybe he should’ve explained the situation to Amber beforehand, but she shouldn’t have lashed out and caused that ugly scene at the restaurant that had everyone’s tongues wagging for months. No one had ever humiliated him like that before. Or since.

  He’d been mad at her then, but now he couldn’t scrape up any ill-feeling. Maybe because he was too busy stopping his jaw from hitting the ground—Amber looked so damn hot. She’d always looked hot, even back in high school, where she’d favored black lipstick, black eye shadow, and black clothes adorned with chains and metal studs. Now, the angry Goth chick vibe was gone, and she looked…stunning. That thick, shiny, russet hair of hers was magnificent, even in a messy ponytail. Her skin was smooth and creamy, her lips full and pink. Her faded jeans had seen better days, but they clung to her thighs in a very distracting manner. She stood ramrod straight, legs slightly apart, her Timberland boots shedding sawdust on his Persian carpet. Her sherry-colored eyes were big, thick-lashed, and filled with the same defiance he remembered.