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“Yes, but I was the one who ultimately walked away,” she countered, then went on the offensive. “Does it bother you, Stephen? Did I ruin your perfect record with women when I dumped you?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
She tilted her head. “You know, I promise not to tell….”
His eyes narrowed, his lips becoming a thin line, and for a moment, she worried she’d gone too far.
They’d always been good at pressing each other’s buttons. It was what had added an element of exhilarating excitement to their short-lived affair.
She reminded herself, however, that nothing she could do now could match his betrayal at the end of their affair.
He searched her face. “Did you run because I was getting under your skin?” he mused, his voice lowering. “Were things getting too hot in the bedroom for you? Was your cool facade in danger of melting?”
She sucked in a breath.
“You know it was good,” he murmured.
“Don’t flatter yourself!”
She hadn’t wanted an ugly confrontation four years ago, so she’d walked away without an explanation—without a goodbye. She’d been afraid that if she faced him with her knowledge of his betrayal, he’d convince her to stay.
Because she knew she was weak where he was concerned. Because she was intimately acquainted with just how charmingly persuasive he could be.
He shifted a step back suddenly, laying off some of the pressure. “Why did you leave?” he asked bluntly.
“I told you in the last conversation—”
“A phone message.”
“I wanted a clean break,” she lied again.
“After dodging my calls for days,” he accused.
“You were out of town on business.”
“Yeah, and then you were—supposedly.”
“I was never good at breaking up,” she countered, “and it was clear to me our fling was coming to an end.”
As clear as the woman whom she’d seen leaving his yacht, she added silently.
His jaw clenched. Evidently, he didn’t like her response, but he also wasn’t going to dispute her belief.
She read his silence as confirmation, and her stomach dropped sickeningly. Obviously, if she hadn’t called it quits first, Stephen would soon have been giving her his “it was good while it lasted, babe” talk.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he taunted finally. “A simple explanation for why you ended the affair. You could have given it to me at Anna’s wedding without an ugly scene.”
Perversely, she felt her temper rise again. “Are you suggesting that if you’d had a chance to talk to me before now, you wouldn’t be here today with a brand-new project for Elkind, Ross?” she demanded. “Because if so, I don’t believe it. I know you too well, Stephen.”
“You used to know me well, sweetheart,” he responded silkily. “About as well as any woman who’s shared my bed.”
She was just one in a crowd, Megan thought bitterly. As if she could ever forget.
Yet one more reason Stephen must never, ever, know about Jade.
She could bear working for him if she had to. She just couldn’t bear having him jeopardize what mattered most.
Stephen stared at the woman who’d walked away from him four years ago without a second glance.
He’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen her, coming out of a conference room at Garrison, Inc., right after her firm had inked a deal with his older brother, Parker, to refurbish the offices at Garrison headquarters.
She’d been laughing at something Parker had said, and the laugh, combined with everything else, had hit him like fine aged whiskey burning a path to an empty stomach.
She’d been intoxicating. A tall redhead with legs that went on forever, and a body that was all curves. A Jessica Rabbit come to life in all her bombshell glory.
He’d pictured her beneath him in bed, those long legs wrapped around him as he lost himself inside her.
And the reality had lived up to the billing—for the first time in his jaded experience with women.
Their five-month affair had been explosive. They’d spent weekends aboard his yacht, just enjoying each other, then had sneaked away in the middle of the workday for lunchtime sex in a hotel room.
Fortunately, he’d owned—and still did—the most luxurious hotel in Miami’s trendy South Beach, and he kept a private suite there for his own use.
On days when he was done meeting and greeting the high-rolling hotel guests who’d come to frolic in the sun and party in nearby nightclubs, and he didn’t feel like heading back to his four-bedroom villa and estate near South Beach, he could crash at the hotel.
This particular day, however, was supposed to be about putting a coda on unfinished business. Instead, he was irritated to discover, she still had as much an effect on him as ever.
The urge to touch her was irresistible, despite the fact that she had chosen to end their affair four years ago with a curt phone message.
He’d tried to contact her, always getting her voice mail, until he’d discovered from the receptionist at her design firm that Megan had given two weeks’ notice and skipped town to go back home to Indianapolis.
To hell with it, he’d decided. His male pride had been stung, and he’d already put it on the line enough by breaking his cardinal rule: don’t look back.
He’d never been dumped before. He was used to leaving women, not having women leave him. His breakup with Megan had been the first time he’d experienced being cast aside, and he hadn’t liked it.
“Why are you here?” Megan demanded now, her green eyes flashing.
To get some answers, and as it happens, I need to hire an interior designer. He’d figured he’d enjoy having Megan on his payroll, playing it until he got some answers, and in the meantime, keeping the pressure on—letting her see just what she’d walked away from.
Now, he shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? I need an interior designer to update the look of the Garrison Grand. Your firm has done work on various Garrison properties in the past, including the Garrison Grand.”
“Why ask for me?” She gestured around her. “Any number of people in this office could help you.”
Because I’m going to enjoy seducing you back into my bed. “Because you’re one of the best interior designers in town, and you’re the one who’s most familiar with the Garrison account.”
He hadn’t shown up with the intention of reignit ing their affair, but now he’d seen her again, the idea appealed increasingly.
Her response as to why she’d ended their relationship had been only a little more satisfying than the one she’d given him by phone, and he wasn’t sure he bought it: their affair had been so hot, he thought his fingers would be singed.
Now that she was back in town—and back in his orbit, by his own doing—he intended to dig a little deeper.
Conrad had told him he and the other partners had lured Meghan back to the firm. They needed new blood, and she was that good.
Megan opened and closed her mouth. “But we—”
“—slept together?” he finished for her.
At her indrawn breath, he arched a brow. “You have a problem working for former lovers?”
“This is the first time I’ve had to face the situation!”
“What? Worried about maintaining your professionalism?”
“It’s not my professionalism I’m worried about,” she retorted.
He swept her a look, letting his gaze linger on her chest before coming back to meet her mutinous gaze.
He smiled slowly. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
She raised her chin. “I’ll ask that someone else be assigned to work on the Garrison Grand.”
“Careful, sweetheart. The Garrison property is one of the most lucrative accounts your firm has going. You wouldn’t want to be the one who caused your firm to lose it.”
Her eyes widened, and color seeped into her face, masking the dusting of freckles there—freckles that he’d spent one memorable night kissing, one by one.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she gritted.
He shrugged. “Since you’re just back in the office, I’m assuming you’ve got the most time to devote to a new account. You’re going to find it hard to explain to your partners why you can’t.”
Her shoulders heaved, and her lips compressed.
“Fine,” she said finally.
He looked back at her blandly.
“But our relationship this time is strictly business.”
He inclined his head. “Whatever you say…Meggikins.”
He was going to enjoy coaxing Megan Simmons back into his bed. And this time, she’d leave only when he asked her to.
Two
Megan stepped past the liveried doorman and into the cool lobby of the Garrison Grand.
The change was a welcome respite from the heat outside. She’d dressed for the hot weather in a lime-green sheath dress with a short matching jacket, her feet encased in strappy sandals.
A couple of men sent appreciative looks her way.
She knew that as a tall redhead in heels, she was hard to overlook—even if she wore her hair tied back and constrained, as it was today.
What she wasn’t used to, she thought, as she looked around at the hotel guests in the lobby, was the cool sophistication of Stephen’s world.
She’d almost forgotten what this world was like, having spent the past few years variously wiping baby food off her shirt, reading nursery rhymes and teaching Jade how to use the potty.
Now though, as she surveyed the women with lithe tanned bodies dressed in halter tops or less, and the men projecting a chic style in khakis and designer shirts, she knew she had to gird herself for today’s meeting.
Glancing to her left, she noticed Stephen walking toward her from across the lobby.
She watched as he was waylaid by an employee, then as his progress was halted again by someone who appeared to be a familiar hotel guest.
When he finally approached, she said, “I thought I was meeting one of your executives.”
“Change of plans,” he said, cupping her elbow and gently steering her with a subtle pressure.
He slanted her a look. “That is, unless you mind it’s me.”
“No,” she responded automatically. Since she had been the one to call their relationship strictly professional, she had no choice but to stick to the script. “Of course I don’t care.”
Of course I care. Just being in the same room with him was enough to make her tense and jittery.
As it was, little shock waves coursed through her from the casual contact of his hand at her elbow.
They walked across the majestic soaring lobby toward the elevators. One end of the lobby led to the street, and the other end, with columns alternating with billowing white curtains, opened onto the Garrison Grand’s private beach. The smell of surf and sand wafted in.
She hadn’t been able to stop herself over the years from reading the occasional news article about Stephen and the Garrison Grand. The hotel had kept a fantastic reputation while she and Stephen had been dating, but it had surpassed itself since then, becoming the it place for the rich and famous who flocked to South Beach.
Walking through the lobby now, she could understand why. Stephen seemed to keep everything new and cutting edge.
“I’m looking to redesign some of the meeting rooms on the second floor,” Stephen said. “Then we can talk about other changes—what else needs to be revamped and updated.”
His deep voice buffeted her like the warm jets of a hot tub.
This is not going to work, she thought. How could she stand to work with him when she couldn’t even think straight?
Yet, she had no choice. After Stephen had left her office yesterday, she’d gone to see Conrad. The meeting had confirmed everything Stephen had said: everyone else in the office was too busy with other projects to be the lead person on the Garrison Grand, and they were looking to her to be a team player.
Now, as Stephen called the elevator and they rode up together, she felt the air between them fairly crackle with tension.
When they stepped out on the second floor, they walked down a hallway with recessed lighting along either side of its carpeted floor.
He gave her a quick tour of the business center and various conference rooms. They ended up at the end of the hall, where Stephen opened a set of double doors and ushered her inside the last empty conference room.
As she walked past him, she was careful not to brush against him. She didn’t think she could stand it.
This conference room contained a long, rectangular, glass-topped table that looked as if it could seat twenty. Like the others, the decor was modern, with high-backed office chairs and all the proper business amenities: phones, a flat-screen television with a DVD player, and a projection screen that appeared as if it was normally hidden behind a wooden wall panel.
“I find it hard to believe,” she observed after looking around and turning back to Stephen, “that anyone can work in paradise’s playground.”
