One Blazing Night (16 page)

Clark nodded. “Okay. I know I've said before that I'll back off and I haven't, but I will. And I'll assume that Matt's intentions are good.”

“Thank you. I mean it. And now I need that coffee if I'm going to get out of here before midnight.”

“Fair enough.”

Clark handed over her coffee and went to the door. Just as he grabbed the handle, Sam said, “Did you notice that bruise on his chin?”

“Yeah. It looked like it would hurt.”

With a straight face, she said, “You should have seen the other guy.”

Clark's eyes widened as he realized what she meant.

She smiled when she turned her back so she could reheat her latte.

* * *

I
T
WASN
'
T
UNTIL
early evening that Matt left the Wilkinson building, shell-shocked. He'd made his father repeat the fact that the vote had not only been in Matt's favor...it had been unanimous.

His arm went out as if pulled by a string, and a taxi appeared at the curb. Matt could have been entering a spaceship for all he cared.

How was this his life now?

He got out his cell and speed-dialed Sam, noticing how late it was. Luckily, he'd texted her at some point to give her fair warning. Her text back, just the word
GREAT
in all caps, meant she was running late, as well. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey. Are you still working?”

“Just left,” he said. “How about you?”

“Forever and ever,” she said, followed by a long sigh.

“That doesn't sound good. Shall I wait at the apartment?”

“That's probably best. I really shouldn't be too much longer.”

“I gotta tell you something real quick—either the board was impressed that I knew you or they've finally realized I'm actually a damn good attorney. They voted unanimously to put me in charge of the London office.” He paused. No reaction. Of course she wouldn't get it. He'd explain later. “Most of those guys are old-school. Getting a unanimous vote is un-friggin'-believable.”

The driver turned with an impatient glare. “Yo, man. Where to?”

“Sam, can you hold for a sec?” He pulled the phone away and gave the man the address.

Then he was back with Sam. “I'll explain all the details later. But I'd like to take you somewhere really special. I can get us a nine o'clock reservation at the chef's table at L'Espalier if you like French. Or Grotto if you'd prefer Italian. I know the chef at the Wilkinson would knock our socks off, as well, so just say the word.”

He heard something in the background, but because of the noise on the street, he couldn't make out any words. For all he knew, Sam wasn't on the line. Probably multitasking.

Finally, she came back. “I'm really sorry,” she said, sounding frantic. “I've got to put you on hold for a minute.”

“Sure—”

She'd already put him on hold.

He stared out the window as they drove, his mind flying in a thousand different directions. He tried to focus on dinner and wondered where else she might like to go. Maybe he should have suggested Chinese. He knew she liked it, but the best of the best wasn't nearly as romantic as he wanted.

If she didn't have a preference, he'd take her to the hotel. See if maybe they could get a room there. A suite. Yeah, that would be—

“Matt? You still there?”

“Yeah, I am. I—”

“Listen, I'm sorry, but I've got an emergency on my hands here. I promise we'll have a celebratory dinner as soon as possible, but tonight's not going to work. I'm sorry.”

“Well, wait. We can eat late.”

“Sorry.”

“But I'll still see you tonight?”

“I have to go. I'll call,” she said and disconnected.

Matt blinked a few times and stared at the phone as if it could tell him what the hell was going on. He had no idea what to do. He hadn't even got to the part where he'd turned down the promotion.

Talk about a letdown.

It wasn't her fault. She hadn't planned the emergency. He understood. Work came first.

He stared at the people crowding the sidewalks, the cars with impatient drivers weaving in and out of traffic. The sky was blue and tinged with twilight, a perfect fall evening. He glanced at his watch, then checked his phone for messages he might've missed. Nothing.

His mind wouldn't settle.

Okay, so he hadn't mentioned London before now, and that might've annoyed her. He'd planned to tell her everything at dinner. Something he still intended to do, so she'd understand why he'd been tight-lipped. Hopefully, she'd be pleased with the final outcome and that would take care of everything else.

But thinking about it, he honestly wasn't sure she'd even heard or processed what he had said. If he thought it wouldn't annoy the crap out of her, he'd call right now and straighten things out, but she'd sounded so harried. But he'd have another chance to explain later.

The last-minute decision he'd made would change his life dramatically. He'd deeply disappointed his father. The board that had just given him the ultimate vote of confidence would be blindsided. Matt had set aside his whole career for Sam. For them.

Then again, they'd never discussed their relationship. In fact, the only thing they had agreed upon was that they were both incredibly busy people, both immersed in their careers. When Clark had called him on his intentions toward Sam, Matt had been at a total loss. That should've been a damn big clue.

He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

Jesus. Now was a hell of a time to have second thoughts. Why hadn't he talked to Sam first before he'd turned down the opportunity of a lifetime?

He thought about calling his father and telling him he'd reconsidered, then immediately scratched that foolish notion. Why add another stupidly impulsive decision to the mess? He was probably overreacting anyway.

Sam had a work emergency. That was all.

A nagging voice reminded him that was how it would always be.

For her.

And for him.

So what the hell kind of chance would they have anyway?

16

S
AM
KNEW
ENOUGH
to keep breathing. She had a tendency to hold her breath until she got dizzy when panicking, and she wasn't going to let that happen. Matt's time-out to talk to the driver had allowed her to gather her wits. At least, enough to put him on hold before she'd said something she would regret.

He hadn't told her about London. Not about taking over the office, not that the board had to vote for him to get the position. Nothing. He'd removed her from his personal life as neatly as Arthur pulled Excalibur from the stone.

She'd known their new relationship wouldn't last. From day one. But ending it like this? With a blithe comment from the back of a taxi? What on earth was there to celebrate? He could damn well congratulate himself on his new job.

God, how had she been so utterly wrong?

The answer was simple. Because she was so bad at this stuff. Always had been. She was an idiot to have believed she'd magically changed just because Prince Charming had paid her a little attention. So yeah, she was partly to blame for this, but not for all of it.

What she couldn't figure out was why he hadn't told her. Did he think she wouldn't want to see him if she knew he was moving to London? They were supposedly friends. People who shared things about their lives. He'd stayed in her apartment, come to her lab, invited her to the gala.

She'd spent the night with him. Twice. Once in her own house.

If she had the power to do anything, it would be to take that back. No. She'd need to start at the beginning. The day he called from New York. She could have told him any story in the world, and he wouldn't have known. She could have kept her distance, kept her heart intact.

“Hey,” Clark said, coming to her side. “You okay?”

She managed a smile. “Yes. Sorry. Just thinking.”

“You sure? I thought you and Matt were going to go out tonight.”

“There's too much work to do. Which is what I was thinking about. I'm pretty sure if we take a look at the second set of protocols, we'll find a repeat error.”

“Oh.” Clark stood still for a moment. “That would explain...”

He wandered off and she thanked whatever source had given her that Hail Mary thought.

She wanted to go outside. To run until she had no breath left. To submerge herself in her tub until things didn't hurt as much. She'd been so sure she could handle this thing with Matt, even his leaving.

After everything that had happened, how was it that she was still that heartbroken sixteen-year-old girl?

* * *

S
TANDING
AT
THE
window in his father's office, Matt stared at his phone, listening to the now-memorized message from Sam to leave his name and number. He wanted to throw the damn thing across the room.

It was Tuesday afternoon, almost twenty-two hours since he'd called her from the taxi, and everything was fucked up.

The entire board of directors was furious at him, and not an insignificant number of staff. His “stunt,” as Uncle Frank had so charmingly called it, wasn't appreciated. He'd made them look like fools.

Terrance Bannister had held his voice just below the level of a shout the whole place could hear when he'd accused Matt of undermining the board and the whole company, by not letting them pursue legitimate candidates for the London office.

Now they were in an emergency session, scrambling to find his replacement. He'd get only one chance to redeem himself to the board and, more important, his father, and that chance had been given reluctantly. He imagined they wanted to fill up the few hours he'd asked for yelling at him some more.

He debated waiting to have coffee in the boardroom. He needed it. Sleep had been as elusive as Sam. A bottle of water would be better for him, but no. He had time to go to the lounge and get a strong hot cup there before heading to the gallows.

Where the hell was she? Why wasn't she picking up his calls? Calling him back? He got that work was probably crazy, but to hang him out to dry like this? He wanted to tell her everything, and she had given him nothing. Not even the courtesy of a damn phone call.

What if he didn't hear from her again? What if he'd given up the chance for London, all for nothing? What if this ache in his heart was here to stay? He'd been so sure...

Upon entering the lounge, he felt eyes shift away from him and a few people actually left. He quietly made his coffee, itching to check his messages one more time. But he wouldn't. In fact, the moment he walked into the boardroom, he would turn off his phone for as long as it took to share the entire plan he'd designed for the London office.

His steps were heavy on the thick pile carpet. He'd never felt anything but welcome in these halls. This was where he'd grown up, as much as the house on Beacon Hill. He'd worked here summers, channeled his love of puzzles into an unshakable goal in the library. He'd admired his father so much.

Now Matt would either prove that his instincts were right or disgrace not just himself but the man who'd raised him.

No one said a word as he entered the room. A screen was set up for his PowerPoint presentation. He checked his phone one last time before shutting it down, and he made the decision that if he didn't hear from Sam by the time he'd finished his talk, he'd make his reservation for New York.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “Here's how I believe we can take the London office to the next level.”

For the next two hours and twenty-four minutes, Matt laid it all out. Beginning with a reassessment of their goals, a status update and a step-by-step plan to change the trajectory of the eighty-seven employees who worked at that office. Many of their best people had taken off for brighter shores, and Matt had an idea about how they could attract them back.

It was a remarkably quiet reception. The questions aimed at him were sharp, on point. By the time his presentation was over, all the coffee was gone and exhaustion was sneaking up his spine. Matt wanted more than anything to leave. To escape what should have been a triumphant moment. But he wasn't even sure he'd landed his punches.

Bannister cleared his voice, being the first to break the silence. “I still think what you did was rotten,” he said, “and that will continue to be a disappointment, but it's clear you've put a tremendous amount of thought and preparation into this plan of yours. With the right person at the helm, I believe you've outlined the best course of action. One that, I agree, will bring London back from the breech.”

Matt held in his grateful sigh. “Thank you” was all he said. Then it was up to the rest of the board to chime in. And chime in they did. None of them wanted to change much about his plan, but they all wanted to change a little. He understood. They wanted to leave their mark, and to call his presentation an unequivocal success after his bailing on them would have been too much.

As it was, he was the lone voice calling for the retention of the current manager, Stephen Fairchild. Matt felt Fairchild had the right stuff, just the wrong target for his talents.

They wouldn't consider it. At least, not when Matt was in the room.

Finally, he agreed that he would fly to London to clean house. He'd lay the groundwork and be there for whoever was going to run the office. He wouldn't commit to when he would leave, not until he checked his phone. Thankfully, his father cut off the line of questioning.

Then he was freed. Keeping it together, he packed up his things and left the room. His first stop was the bathroom, where he found zero messages left on his voice mail. No texts, either.

He didn't even really have the right to be mad. Only sad. Being with Sam had changed him so much it seemed incredible that she hadn't changed, as well, but he had the evidence before him.

She must have had a reason to blow him off like this. Maybe Clark had got to her, convinced her that making a clean break was her best option. But it didn't sound like Sam to be swayed that drastically. She'd at least hear him out. He'd been clear in his messages to her that he had much more to tell her. That he wanted to explain in person, not in a voice mail.

Before all this, they had been friends. Now he doubted they ever would be again. After pouring yet one more cup of coffee in the thankfully empty lounge, he headed for his father's office, where he found his old man sitting behind his desk. “You did an excellent job with the plans. I think you'll get through this change of course very well.”

Matt sat and stared at the law books that lined the built-in shelves. He let his father's compliment sink in. He'd worked a long time for it. None of his planning had been on company time. He'd strategized for months, quietly, patiently. He'd privately tried to share his concept with Fairchild, but his input hadn't been welcomed. It was clear he saw Matt not only as his competition but as a dilettante instead of a valuable part of Wilkinson Holdings.

“Thank you,” Matt said finally, straightening to face his father.

“The only thing I'm not sure about is your idea to keep Fairchild on.”

“Clearly that's up to you and the board. It was just a suggestion.”

“I'll consider it further. Now, what are your immediate plans?”

Jesus. Matt hoped he wasn't about to suggest a family dinner. “Call Andrew. Check up on the Tokyo deal and make sure Budapest is on target.”

“Not seeing Ms. O'Connel?”

“No. She's got some serious deadlines to face. I took up a lot of time she didn't really have.”

His father nodded. “You might want to set up shop in Stanley's old office today and tomorrow. Let the board members talk to you. It'll go a long way toward smoothing things out.”

“I will. And thanks. For the support. It means a lot.”

“I'm still not thrilled about the way you handled things.”

Matt smiled. “I know. I would have done things differently, given the chance.”

Charles cleared his throat, his attention moving to a folder on his desk.

Matt left the office, prepared as he'd ever be for the verbal floggings he was about to receive.

He wouldn't call Sam again.

* * *

M
ATT
CALLED
S
AM
four more times. He'd got the same message each time. At least he'd slept for about five hours, which was a hell of a lot better than he'd done the night before. When he'd left this morning, he'd taken his things with him and checked into the Wilkinson Hotel. It hadn't felt right to be in Sam's apartment anymore.

He'd miss the place. It had Sam's unique stamp on it. But the best part of all had been Sam. Eating waffles together. Her naked, in his arms. The way she'd gone all supertech when they'd discovered that sex tape. Hell, everything they'd done had been amazing. Didn't matter if it was getting a couples massage, shooting zombies or making her blush in the shower.

So what had gone wrong? He couldn't get past the part where he'd been so
sure
. Sure that she wanted what he wanted. More time together. With an eye toward a life together. He didn't know how they'd get there, but it would be criminal not to try.

But he guessed he was the only one who'd felt that way.

He'd had a few more conversations with members of the board that afternoon. At least people weren't avoiding him any longer, for which he should have felt grateful, but all he wanted was to be left on his own. To figure out what to do next.

The only thing he could think to do was catch her at the lab and ask for a face-to-face. He hoped it wouldn't feel like an ambush—it certainly wasn't his first choice. But it could be the only chance he'd have to talk to her. Before he left, however, there were two things he needed to do: book himself a flight to New York and say goodbye to his father. The first was over in a matter of minutes, but when he stopped by his father's office, Charles asked him to come in and shut the door behind him.

“What's wrong? Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” Charles said. “I've noticed that you're not yourself, though, son. That's understandable, but something tells me it has nothing to do with work.”

Matt sighed. He didn't want to go into detail, but he was relieved to share some of what had happened with another human being. “It's Sam. She cut me off. Hasn't responded to my phone calls, and I don't know why. It probably has something to do with me not telling her about London to begin with. I'm not sure.”

His father nodded and gave a small smile at the last part. “I'm afraid I can't help you with that, except to offer some advice, if it would be welcome.”

“Of course it would.”

“You told me the reason you were going to pass on the London office was because of your changed relationship with Samantha. For what it's worth, I think you made the right decision.”

“She won't even talk to me.”

“If she was just a friend, she would have. It would all be easy. My advice is for you to go with your heart. Do what you need to do to find out what's bothering her. There will always be a place for you in the company, or any first-class law firm, but a woman as formidable as Samantha O'Connel? I did some reading about her. She's quite a phenomenon.”

“She is. But that's not the reason I want—”

“I believe you. In my life I have a few regrets that have never truly left me. When I was a young man, I had a similar opportunity, but I chose the well-beaten path. The safe road. Between you and me, given the chance, I would have done things differently.”

Matt recognized the echo of his own words, but that was nothing compared to the confession his father had just made. He considered their relationship to be a very good one, but they'd never been confidants. It was an exceptional admission, one that helped Matt know that going to Sam was the right move.