Unlikely Allies (14 page)

“Maggie?” Matt’s questioning prompt didn’t divert her from the task at hand.

Over and over she jabbed the red button, silencing the chirping. It rang again as she went to toss it inside her bag. This time she turned it off and buried it under the other junk she carried around in the humongous tote.

She opened the driver’s door and placed a foot inside, when a tug on her shoulder tried to halt her. Determined to get away from any more male interference, she plopped down in her seat. “Kat and I can do it.” After shutting herself inside, she turned the ignition on and wound down the window. “Why do men think women can’t handle things on their own?” Not waiting for a response, she clarified her point. “I know how to read. In fact, everything is crystal clear now.” She tapped her temple, put the car in gear, and closed the subject. “You both have plenty to take care of in your own lives. Leave me alone to manage mine.”

While navigating through the crowded parking lot, she refused to acknowledge the shadowed figures in her rearview mirror. Instead, she moved forward, checking on her main priority: Cece sleeping in the back seat and the only person she should concentrate on—from here on out.

“W
ERE YOU ABLE TO GET
the dinner reservation confirmed with Mr. Shephard’s secretary?” Rick stopped in front of Mrs. Collins’s desk as she turned off her computer, ready to leave for the day.

“All set. Time changed from six to seven. Agnes said Mr. Shephard had several meetings run late, so it worked for him too.”

“Good, messages?”

“They’re on your desk already. Oh, and you had a visitor.” Mrs. Collins pointed over his shoulder to his office door.

Taped to the front was a piece of white construction paper. The closer he got to it, the tighter his chest grew. He tucked a finger under the sticky tab and lifted, opening the folded sheet, which revealed a huge swing set drawn in colorful red and brown crayons. Cece at the top of a slide and sitting on Rick’s lap, both of them with hands in the air and smiles stretching from ear to ear. He blinked away any remnants of emotion, refusing to admit what so plainly surfaced in that sketch. As he examined the image closer, in the far left corner at the foot of the rock wall, Maggie stood with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. If he hadn’t been so flummoxed he would’ve laughed at Cece’s spot-on disapproving representation of her mother.

A soft touch on his shoulder hadn’t pulled his sight away from the picture. “You make her happy.” Mrs. Collins’s voice matched her gentle hand, and then she tapped the image of Maggie. “If you’re going to win her over, you have a lot more work to do. She’s a harder sell.”

He folded the paper in half as it had been on his door and shut out the images. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not buying. Some things aren’t negotiable. You’ve always looked out for me, but don’t push me on this. I’m not a wet-behind-the-ears eighteen-year-old. I can make my own decisions and don’t need anyone telling me what to do.”

Mrs. Collins rubbed his back in a soothing motion like his mom often did when he’d lost his temper as a little boy and had to be calmed down. “Sometimes a person’s vision can become so narrow and focused on a single-minded goal, they lose sight of the most important things. Your daddy was on that path until he met your mom. She brightened his world and opened his eyes to a whole different life. Maybe he would’ve come to the realization on his own, but sometimes we’re offered one chance. A little window of opportunity, and if we don’t look its way or consider it seriously, we’ll miss out on a gift meant for us in that moment and time. If we don’t take it, we’ll never have that reward offered again. Something may replace it, but it will never be as sweet as the one intended for us all along.” By the time Mrs. Collins finished her spiel, he was sitting behind his desk and staring off at the Manhattan skyline. Every part of her message had been heard and pounded in his brain along with an enormous headache. “Good night, Mr. Stone. I hope your dinner meeting is productive.” Her professional tone replaced the motherly concern. In his peripheral vision he caught her closing the door on her way out.

He spread open the picture and traced the smiles on the two faces readying for the speedy and slippery slope. To be young, carefree, and brave—casting concern aside, no clue or reservation for mishaps that could spring up. In his world, risk didn’t always equate to a large reward. Specializing in five- to hundred-million-dollar mergers and acquisitions presented a daily gamble. He conducted months of research on each account, decreasing the possibility of failure. He closed every deal he worked on since becoming CEO and increased profits each year. The complexity of negotiating sales and purchases were fraught with ups and downs. Executives and shareholders from both corporations wanted their piece of the pie before signing on the dotted line. Any distraction could put him off his game, and he couldn’t let anything get in the way of accomplishing what his father had started at the young age of twenty-two. The countless stories Dad told him about his struggles, his dreams to have a father-and-son run corporation, and then on his deathbed, a final request: “Son, promise me you’ll go to college and take over the business.” If he let anyone keep him from making his dad’s wish come true and continuing its success, he’d never forgive himself.

He set the picture inside the center drawer of his desk and with a final look slammed it shut. Snatching the keys out of his pocket, he exited the office, locking up on his way out. Constant reminders of a little redheaded sweetie pie pulled at his heartstrings. Each interaction became more dear than the last. As for Maggie, he needed a lot more control and a solution for his pent-up lust. Something like a straightjacket, cement shoes, or someone to push him off a bridge. Because any time he spent in her presence, he felt like he was falling anyway. Distraction times two and double the trouble—Cece and Maggie quadrupled the heartache.

Too bad his dual degrees didn’t teach him how to enforce sanctions on himself and bar access to the distracting duo. Out of sight and out of mind should’ve worked in theory. He’d been somewhat relieved when he hadn’t run into Maggie at all last week. When Matt insisted he go with him to pick up a playhouse for the twins, the trip put him at the wrong place at the wrong time and brought front and center what he wanted to avoid. Unable to resist pudgy-cheeked Cece, he figured if he had the bundle of joy in his arms and got away from Maggie, he could prevent getting sucked in by her seductive eyes and heavenly sweet scent. The plan worked for the most part, considering Cece kept him engaged, explaining the crafts she made in preschool and talking about all the things she and Robin liked. She even taught him a few new signs as they navigated through the aisles. But the more Cece spoke to him and Maggie didn’t, it just ticked him off the longer they walked around the store and she kept ignoring him. Not a word, not even a hello, like some scum she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge. By the time the tools and supplies were packed in her car, his temper had escalated to boiling. Nothing would have made him happier than to get the heck out of there. Maggie gave him the perfect out, declaring she didn’t want or need his help. Since he hadn’t offered it in the first place, Matt did, he’d been more than eager to get as far away from her as possible before and even more so after her tirade.

The memory launched a fire in him and renewed his determination to forget about Maggie. He wouldn’t let her or any woman sway him from his goals. After his dinner meeting, he’d call someone in his black book and take care of his problem. It had been too long since he had sex. He couldn’t even recall the last time or the individual he’d been with.

Yep, that would be the key—sex.

It always helped him relax and forget.

It would work now too.

Except it didn’t.

Complete opposite─blond hair, brown eyes, smelled like smoke, not flowers or cupcakes.

He sent the nameless, stacked beauty home, paying her cab fare.

And took matters into his own hands—once again.

As he read the latest budget reports for two companies planning to merge, a gold “K” embossed envelope tossed on top blocked his view. “You didn’t RSVP.”

He flicked it aside and continued reading. “That’s because I’m not going.”

“You will. Julia wants you to be her escort, and since it’s her daddy’s annual fundraiser, he’s expecting you to be there.”

Flipping to the next page, when he reached for a highlighter to mark a few sales figures, his grandfather clamped down on top of his hand. “Look at me, boy.”

Rick opened his mouth to snap at him but stopped. It would only aggravate the situation. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms and glared at him instead. More misguided revelations were about to be added to an already stressful day.

Seated across from him in the leather club chair, Grandfather mimicked his posture and expression. “Let me lay it out for you since you don’t get it. Her daddy’s company is the largest brokerage firm on the East Coast. You marry her, partner with him, you’ll be able to go international. With their contacts and what they do, the expansion possibilities are enormous. You’d be able to open an office in China, Hong Kong, the Netherlands, France, anywhere. Don’t you see the potential? That girl is head over heels in love with you. She’d be a dutiful wife, a beautiful trophy on your arm, and take you places you’ve never been. She’d introduce you to important people who’d be happy to invest their money and keep this business going for a hundred-plus years. It would grow this company larger than your pea brain could imagine. So pull your head out of your ass, put a ring on her finger, and make our shareholders happy. Pad their pockets and yours.”

“You done?”

“Not unless you pull a diamond out of your pocket or go to the jewelry store and buy her one right now.”

Before Rick could respond, Mrs. Collins knocked on the closed door and came in, carrying a box. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Stone. You had a delivery. It seemed important, so I thought I’d bring it to you right away.” She set it down on top of the papers he’d been reading and left as quickly as she’d come in.

“Who’s that from?”