THAT NEXT THURSDAY AFTERNOON, having been back in New York City since the morning before—back in his real life—Hank expected that he would have regained his equilibrium. After all, he was living again in his penthouse, he was at work, and things were crazy, hectic, and familiar. He’d expected that he could slough off his time in Hanscomb Harbor, that he could look at it as an interlude and nothing more. But it certainly wasn’t working out that way.
His life here no longer seemed to fit. It was like a favorite jacket that came back shrunk or misshapened from the dry cleaner’s. His life, it seemed, was tight at the shoulders and didn’t want to button as easily as it used to. He’d thought that being away from Maddie, he would instantly become his old in-control self. And he was. To an extent. But he was also distracted. He’d thought that away from Maddie, he could again think clearly and would see that his attraction to her had been a summer fling. Something experienced, brief and intense, but soon set aside. Yes, away from Maddie … all he could think about was her, dammit.
Between bouts of paying attention to the crisis du jour or the meeting at hand, he found her on his mind, her face before him, her voice and her laughter teasing him. He could see her now, last weekend at that tavern. In that dress. The sunset behind her. Her blue eyes flashing. And then they’d been at the arcade. Damned if she didn’t have a better throwing arm than he did. He had the teddy bear to prove it, too. She’d won it at the—
The door to Hank’s lavishly decorated corner office opened and brought him sharply back to the moment. He couldn’t believe this. Apparently he’d done it again—gone off to la-la land with his thoughts of Maddie. Trying not to look guilty, and at the same time reminding himself that this was his empire, Hank looked up from the complicated financial report he’d been studying. Okay, ignoring, since his thoughts had drifted to Maddie.
When he saw who was standing there, another jet of guilt shot through him, as if he’d been caught writing cute notes in class instead of paying attention to the teacher.
Sure enough, the enigmatic Ms. Smith stood in the doorway. His secretary, executive assistant, girl Friday, however she thought of herself, of eight years’ standing. She looked like her name. Plain, tall, angular, buttoned down, her black hair pulled back in a tight bun, her no-nonsense black-framed glasses perched perfectly atop the bridge of her nose, her two-piece black suit as impeccable as her timing. She also insisted she be called “Miz” Smith. She scared the hell of out of everyone. Except him. So he told himself.
“Yes, Miz Smith? What can I do for you?” That was how it worked around here. She told him what was next in his day, and he did it.
“I have Mr. Thornton on the line.”
Hank exhaled, then firmed his lips. He’d asked her to place the call to Jim and had felt somewhat like an escaped convict returning to the prison and alerting the warden that he had. Before he could reach for the phone, Miz Smith spoke. “Have you finished with that report, sir? I’ll need to incorporate your changes before your meeting at four-thirty.”
She said it as if she had much more important things to do in this business and he was such a hindrance. “Almost,” he said, regarding the report in front of him. “I’ll speak to Jim and then finish this.”
She nodded and stood there, her hand on the doorknob.
“Yes?” He always expected some huge disclosure from her, but never got one. Maybe this time was different. She certainly looked ready to reveal something.
“It’s … well, nice to have you back, sir. Line one,” she said as she stepped back, closing the door behind her.
Hank blinked. That was huge, coming from her. A bit encouraged, he grabbed up the phone and punched line one. “Hello, Jim. I guess you’re wondering what a guy like me is doing in a place like this.”
“You could say that.” In a word, Jim’s voice was grim. “I was surprised, let’s say.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have been. You know me.”
“Yes I do, Hank. But I thought hanging on to everything you have would mean something to you, too. I thought you’d at least try.”
Hank gripped the handset harder. “I did try, Jim. And I am still going to try. My being here now is temporary and then I’ll go back and finish my time.”
“Does Maddie know you’re here? Did you tell her?”
Hank thought about not giving her up, about saying she had no idea. But he knew her well enough to know that wouldn’t work. She’d be disappointed in him, and she’d tell Jim the truth herself, anyway. “Yes, Maddie knows I’m here. I cleared it with her.”
“You twisted that girl’s arm, didn’t you?”
“I did no such thing. And she’s a woman, not a girl. All I did was tell her what was at stake and ask her opinion on what to do.”
“Well, what the hell could she say to that, Hank, except what she did? And now you’ve both lost everything.”
“Dammit, Jim, be reasonable. Let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. The will is very specific.”
“And unfair. And unrealistic. And very contestable. And yet I haven’t. Have you asked yourself why?”
Jim had nothing to say to that. Hank began to hope. He was also determined to wait out his family friend and attorney. This was a classic example of whoever speaks next, loses.
“Why don’t you tell me why, son.”
Hank exhaled, surprising himself to realize that he’d been holding his breath. “Okay, my first thought was to contest it. But I didn’t because for one thing I was so surprised by it, and for another you practically threw my luggage at me and flew me off to Hanscomb Harbor before I could think. Then when I did think about the will, I got to wondering what the old man was really up to.”
“So Maddie had nothing to do with your wanting to stay there?”
“Yes, she had a lot to do—I mean no. This doesn’t have to do with Maddie. Not my being here right now, I mean.”
“Did you two fight?”
“No, Jim, we didn’t fight. Why would we fight?”
“Maybe because she didn’t want you to leave for the city. Maybe because she didn’t want your actions to cause her to lose everything James left her.”
Angry now, Hank jerked forward in his leather executive chair and perched his elbows atop his vast cherrywood desk. “Give me some credit, Jim. Damn. First Maddie, then you. You keep selling me short when it comes to things like behaving honestly and with honor. You make me sound like some ruthless corporate raider with no conscience. Is that how I come across?”
“You can. But not now. So Maddie put you through your paces, huh?”
“Hell, yes. She’s tough. Made me sweat for days before she decided.”
Jim chuckled. “She’s quite the woman.”
With that comment Hank’s suspicions grew. Jim really wanted him to think Maddie was wonderful. Everyone did. Wherever he went in Hanscomb Harbor, the townspeople greeted him and told him something wonderful about Maddie. They were all crazy about her and wanted him to be, as well. It was a conspiracy. “Yes. Quite the woman. Everyone tells me so. But this isn’t about Maddie, Jim. Not directly. This is about Madison and Madison. I think you can see that I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t. If I had stayed in Hanscomb Harbor, the deal on Friday would fall through. But if I came here, I could ink the deal but lose my inheritance. I had to make a choice.”
“And you chose the company over your grandfather’s wishes.”
Christ. Agitated now, hot under the collar, Hank retorted, “Yeah, well, you can’t miss what you never had.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I never had my grandfather’s money, Jim. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it. But I did have the company. And yes, I know the company was part of the inheritance and now it’s gone too because I came here to try to save it—”
“I see your point—”
“Do you, Jim? Really? Does any of this make sense? If it does, tell me what in the hell the old man was thinking.”
“He wanted you to be happy.”
“Happy? Do I sound happy to you, Jim? Or do I sound like I’m about to pop a vein in my head? Because that’s how it feels.”
“Hank, I think we can—”
“And you, Jim—are you going to be such a stickler that you can’t see the position I’m in here? How many lives will be affected? I have good people who work for me, depend on me, Jim—”
“I agree. I think you should—”
“I can’t just sit out in Hanscomb Harbor in shorts and sandals, walking on the beach, while this whole thing goes belly-up. What kind of an asshole would that make me?”
“The worst kind. I think you did the right thing in coming to the city.”
“Well, I don’t. Because I had to come to the city. I had to—” Hank cut his own words off and took a deep breath. “What did you say?”
“I’ve been trying to say I think you made the right decision in coming back to ink this deal on Friday and preserve your company.”
Hank had to shift mental gears. He’d prepared for a bloodletting … and it wasn’t happening. He still wasn’t sure he had won, though. All Jim had said was he agreed with Hank’s decision, and not that he was going to look the other way because he had. “I have to be here, Jim. This is my life, my decision. But I don’t think Maddie should pay the penalty for something she had nothing to do with and couldn’t prevent.”
“I agree. She’s a wonderful woman.”
So they were back to that. “Point taken, Jim. You sound like her publicist. Is there a reason for that?”
“Oh, no, no. I just like her.” He paused. “Do you?”
It was at that moment that Hank knew Maddie was right. The will, the money, the company’s holdings, the riches, the cars, the real estate, all of it—none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was what he thought of Maddie. “Yes, Jim, I like her. I just wish we’d met under other circumstances.”
“What’s wrong with these?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. But just so we understand each other, you’ve violated the tenets of your grandfather’s will. Maddie allowed it. You both lose. All the Madison and Madison holdings will now go into a trust neither one of you can touch.”
Hank’s heart plunged. He broke out into a sweat, felt weak. “Jim, for God’s sake, man, have mercy. I thought you said you agreed with my decision to leave Hanscomb Harbor for this business deal.”
“I do. But I’m also bound by the legal language in your grandfather’s will.”
“Which I could contest.”
“You could.”
“You know, Jim, this has made it pretty hard for me to mourn James Senior. I’m not over being mad and hurt and feeling a little betrayed here.”
“I can see how you’d feel all those things. But you really shouldn’t.”
“And why is that?” Suddenly, to Hank’s ear, what Jim wasn’t saying was more important than what he was. “What’s going on? You have something up your sleeve, don’t you? Some loophole or something.”
“No. No loopholes. No second chances. Nothing.”
“Then what?”
“Well, like you, I thought your grandfather’s will was totally nuts. And I told him so at the time. An old man’s last grasping at control and manipulation. I thought I knew him better than that. But then … he told me why he was doing this, Hank.”
Hank’s grip on the phone tightened. “Tell me why.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s for me to know and for you to live long enough to find out. So when James Senior told me, I realized he was, after all, the man I loved like a brother. So knowing what he hoped to have happen and why, I’m just going to pretend this phone call never took place.”
Hank held his burgeoning joy at bay a moment longer. “I couldn’t ask you to do that, Jim.”
“You’re damned right you couldn’t. But I can choose to do it.”
Hank laughed at this irascible old man he loved. “Jim, you’re every bit the rebel that I am.”
That seemed to please him. “Maybe so. Used to be, at any rate.”
“You still are. But I don’t want you to get into any kind of legal trouble. Mary would skin me alive.”
“Well, then, we just won’t tell her, will we? And hell, I’m not afraid of the Bar Association. What are they going to do? Slap me on the wrist? Disbar me? I’m nearly eighty years old and have all the money Mary and I could spend in three lifetimes. And I was interpreting the law before most of those ABA whippersnappers were even alive. Besides, they’re afraid of me. So that’s my decision, son. I’m going to look the other way. Take the spirit of the thing over the letter of it. But just this once. And because I do know the spirit of James’s intention, there won’t be another reprieve, I promise you.”
Hank now allowed relief to sweep over him like a wave. He and Maddie weren’t going to lose. Hank felt simultaneously sick and elated. “I won’t need another reprieve, Jim, I swear it. After this, I stay put in Hanscomb Harbor for the duration of the six weeks.”
“Duration? No, on second thought, I think I’ll start the six weeks over when you get back there Friday evening or Saturday. The timing on the first go-round after your grandfather’s death was a surprise and not very fair to you. So we’ll be prepared this time and give it a good, clean run.”
Hank wanted to protest, then thought better of it—meaning, Maddie’s beautiful, sexy face popped into his head. Six full weeks to concentrate on Maddie, once this week was behind him. “All right. Okay. I can do that. I can’t wait to let Maddie know your decision. She’ll be relieved. And happy.”
“Good. She’s a wonderful young woman. Very pretty, too. And smart. A business owner like yourself.”
Here we go again. Hank grinned. All this Maddie-praising was starting to get funny, not that she didn’t deserve every word of it. But Hank suddenly felt like doing a little bragging of his own. “She’s also coming to the stockholders’ meeting Friday. She’s very eager to fulfill her obligations as chairwoman of the board.”
That wasn’t quite the truth but it should get Jim going.
“Admirable. Very admirable,” he said. “Shows a sense of responsibility that seems to be lacking in some young people today.”
“A veritable Girl Scout.” This was becoming a game of one-upmanship.
“Sweet disposition,” Jim countered. “But not someone to be taken lightly.”
“I agree. You wouldn’t want to take Maddie lightly.”
“True. She’s what we old codgers used to call the marrying kind.”
Hank grinned and shook his head. That’s exactly what this was—a game of one-upmanship. But he felt certain he had the ultimate compliment. “I don’t know about marrying, but she is one hell of a kisser.”
The surprised silence at the other end was Hank’s reward. “You’ve kissed her?” Jim barked.
“Yes, I have.”
Another silence followed this. “When?”
“In your office. On the day the will was read.”
“You kissed her in my office on the day the will was read? Before you knew the details?”
Suddenly Hank felt as if he’d passed or failed some test. He couldn’t tell which. “Well, I sure as hell didn’t feel like kissing her after it was read. But why? What’s wrong? What are you getting at?”
“Nothing.” Suddenly Jim was a clam.
“That’s it? Nothing?”
“Yes. You’re two adults. It’s not like I’m her father and I caught you two underage kids in the dark and necking on the front-porch swing.”
Now it was Hank’s turn to be silent.
“You’re awfully quiet, Hank.”
“I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“True. That reminds me. Let me give you something more to think about.”
“Great. Like what?”
“A bit of bad news.”
Hank rubbed at his aching forehead. “Jim, for the last couple of weeks or so, there hasn’t been any other kind. So what is it?”
“Not what. Who. Your mother isn’t voting by proxy this time. She called me when she couldn’t reach you. She’s tearing herself away from Rodeo Drive long enough to come to New York—live and in person—for tomorrow’s stockholders’ meeting.”
Hank’s insides turned liquid. Lillian Elaine Smythe Madison was a hurricane. An overly dramatic force of nature who owned a fair percentage of Madison & Madison stock. And Hank hadn’t yet told her about the will. Or Maddie and her part in it. All his mother knew was that James Senior had died. And now here they would all meet up on Friday. Wonderful. Hank slowly leaned over until his forehead rested atop his desk … much like a man about to be guillotined.
With the phone still at his ear, he said to Jim, “I’m a dead man.”
“Not yet. But you will be. I don’t envy you in the least, son,” Jim said, expansively, cheerfully. “Well, except where Maddie is concerned.”
* * *
It was Friday, and Maddie felt sick. Her queasiness had nothing to do with her private Learjet ride into New York City that morning. It was the stockholders’ meeting in less than an hour. She wasn’t good in front of crowds. Never had been. That was why she’d taken that job in research at the Whitney Museum. So she could hide. And that was why she’d buried herself in Hanscomb Harbor after her jilting. So she could hide.
Life faced head-on just never turned out well for her. She thought back to herself as a little girl and skipping up to that strange dog that had bitten her. Not a good ending. She thought next of Stanton Fairchild, idiot doctor, and his leaving her in the lurch on their wedding day. Not a good ending. She thought of her parents coming to see her in New York at her insistent urging. She’d wanted them very much to see her Greenwich Village apartment and to see she was doing well. They’d been killed in a car wreck. Not a good ending didn’t even begin to cover that one.
And then there’d been James. She’d befriended the man and then he’d died and left her everything. Not a good ending. And Hank. Not a good beginning. It was time to face it. She didn’t do life well. What she did do well was hide—in back rooms, not boardrooms. She wanted her cozy little house and her safe little shop in the protective haven that was Hanscomb Harbor. She didn’t want to be here in Midtown Manhattan inside this vast and richly appointed penthouse apartment that crowned the Madison & Madison Enterprises building.
Wow. A penthouse apartment. And she was inside one. She stroked her hands over the velvety fabric of the sofa cushions to either side of her. That was another thing. How could anything over five thousand square feet be termed an apartment? It was a city, and it needed street signs. It was a labyrinthine maze of breathtaking rooms that could trick you into thinking you were inside a villa on the Mediterranean, until you looked out a window onto Manhattan. Still, the tones and textures and fabrics reminded her of ancient, elegant times when women wore revealing togas and men rode about in chariots.
Maddie looked down at her modern black two-piece suit and matching pumps. She was so out of place here. Maddie shook her head. James, my sneaky little friend, if you were here, I’d choke you.
But James wasn’t here. However, his grandson was. He’d just gotten off the phone with someone downstairs and was sitting down in the chair next to the sofa. “You okay, Maddie? You look nervous.”
“I don’t like being in front of groups. And the one gathering downstairs is the grandmother of all groups, Hank. But I’m not really nervous. I’ve got it all under control.” To prove it, she immediately stopped twisting her purse strap around her fingers.
But Hank had noticed. He sat back, crossing an ankle atop his opposite knee. “You sure?”
No. “Yes. It’s this place. It makes me nervous.” Well, it was partly true.
Hank raised his eyebrows and then frowned at their surroundings. “Really? This place? Has something moved that shouldn’t? Did you hear a twig snap or something?”
Maddie chuckled. “It wouldn’t surprise me.” She couldn’t believe she was here with him. She’d missed him so much in the forty-eight hours he’d been gone. And that realization had upset her to no end. There was no way this was going to end well, “this” being how she felt about him. I mean, look at him. He was handsome, virile, capable, intelligent, and powerful. All that and more had been brought home to her today as she’d watched him in his environment and witnessed the respect and deference with which he was treated. What she had learned, again, was this man was not for her. Out of her league.
Maddie’s gaze landed on him. He was watching her. “So I had a girl come in to help Celeste in the shop this weekend. Fran Dobson. She’s nice. Has two kids. Twin girls. Babies, really. I figured she could use the money—and could keep Celeste from running amok. As if anyone can. And Beamer. She’s fine. Celeste is keeping her for me while I’m here. She misses you. The dog, I mean. At least, I think she does. She hasn’t really said.”
Finally Maddie was at the end of her babbling monologue. It was Hank. He always did this—just sat and watched her and unhinged her. “What?”
Hank blinked. “I’m sorry. I was staring. So what about this place makes you nervous?”
It was Maddie’s turn to blink. Had he not been listening to her? Did men ever listen to women? “What makes me nervous? Well, it’s a three-day ride to the kitchen, for one thing,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “And for another, I just can’t imagine living here. I mean, what does one person do with five thousand square feet of space?”
Hank frowned as he looked around, as if trying to see the penthouse through her eyes. “Beats me. I only stay here when I’m working late, but it’s not really where I live.”
Everything about him—his life, his lifestyle, the rich-and-famous part—said he was not for her. She needed to remember that. He’d never be happy in her world. And she would never be comfortable in his. No matter his offhand comment last weekend about marrying her. He hadn’t been serious. Yet he was now staring again. Maddie smiled and raised her eyebrows, an unspoken question.
“I was just trying to picture you in the house on Long Island.”
“Don’t tell me it’s mine.”
“It is. You own it. Or will, when my six weeks are up. And now that Jim’s chosen to pretend we aren’t here today.”
“That was amazing. I couldn’t believe he did that. Wow. Thanks for calling me yesterday to let me know.”
“You’re welcome. Your Long Island house is bigger than this. Much bigger. And there are servants and acres of land and fleets of cars that go with it, too.”
Maddie made a face. “Sounds complicated. I hereby give it to you. It’s yours. I don’t want it. I have a feeling that servants—I can’t even believe I’m saying that word in connection with me. Anyway, I think they would end up pushing me around just like Celeste does. Who needs that? I like it fine in Hanscomb Harbor.”
Hank chuckled. “I don’t blame you. I don’t understand you, but I don’t blame you.”
Now, that was intriguing. “What’s not to understand?”
“I think most people would jump at the opportunity you’ve been given to forever alter your life. Like they’d won the lottery.”
“True. But I’m not most people.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
She couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. “So, Hank, tell me, are you happy with all this wealth?” Startled that she’d said that, Maddie popped a hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at Hank, who was laughing at her.
“It’s okay. And the answer is a resounding ‘I guess so.’ Like you with your life, I’ve never known anything but this.”
“Fair enough.” Almost fearing his answer, Maddie nevertheless knew she had to ask it. She had to know. “Then could you be happy without it? Could you be happy, say, living a life of quiet desperation like most of the rest of the world?”
“No.” Then he smiled. His high-wattage grin just about knocked Maddie off the sofa cushion she sat on. “But thank God—and Jim—I don’t have to find out.”
“Don’t be so quick to speak. You still have to do your six weeks. Anything could happen.”
“True. It could.” He was totally relaxed here, yet he gave the impression of a crouching tiger. He had yet to look away from her and his dark eyes bored into her. He looked her up and down. “You look great, Maddie. I’ve always thought blondes dressed in black were sexy. Cool and mysterious.”
An electric jolt of desire bolted through her, settling low down in her belly where a hot and heavy throbbing seemed lodged. Damn, damn, damn. Jittery with nerves, Maddie tugged at her short skirt and played off his comment about blondes dressed in black. “As long as I look professional, I’ll be happy.”
“Ah. Feeling overwhelmed?” he asked.
“Completely.” She meant by him. Maddie couldn’t pull her gaze away from his. Suddenly the distance between them seemed to narrow, though neither one of them had moved. Or spoken.
The conversation petered out right there. Maddie couldn’t have been happier that it did. Every word between them seemed to be pregnant with meaning and rife with innuendo. She couldn’t keep up. This female hormonal undertow threatened to sweep her feet right out from under her and carry her out to some lovesick sea where Hank awaited her on a lush yet deserted island called Passion … if there was a God.
Maddie took a deep breath. She stared at Hank still sitting cross-legged in the chair that perched conversationally adjacent to where she sat on the sofa. “So,” she blurted, “why’d you bring me up here, again?”
He shrugged. “Mostly to get you out of the madhouse downstairs for a few minutes. And to show you where you’ll be staying tonight. Burton’s already stashed your luggage in the master bedroom.”
“Wonderful.” Maddie studied the monument to Italian architecture surrounding her. “Got a spare Sherpa guide on you? I’ll need one to find it.”
Hank’s chuckle eased her jitters. At least she could make him laugh. “I’ll show you where it is in a minute. Also, I thought if you had any questions about the meeting, this would be away from everyone where we can talk in private.”
Talk in private? That sounded so intimate. Maddie’s heart beat a little faster, like it did right before a first kiss. The tension, the tingly feeling, the giddiness. They were all there—and she was doing this to herself because she already knew how Hank kissed. And she wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her again. Yet she needed to stick to business. This was an important day for Hank. Even though he didn’t show it, she knew how on edge he had to be. And yet he was taking all this time to calm her. How sweet. Then it suddenly occurred to her that of course he’d take this time to calm her. He didn’t want her to blow this stockholders’ meeting. And that was all that was behind this interlude. “So, is there anything else you need to tell me about today?”
Hank uncrossed his legs and sat forward in his chair. “No. I think I’ve run you through everything. But you’re the virgin here.”
Maddie swallowed, the word virgin pinging around in her brain. Not that she was, not in the biblical sense, but she may as well be, such was the deplorable state of her love life. That she now called it deplorable, though, was progress. So maybe she was over the hurt and could again want a man. No. This man. She was over Stanton and wanted this man—another rich one she couldn’t have. Sobering. Maddie cleared her throat. “Okay, questions.” Then the stupidest one she could think of just popped into her head and came out her mouth. “Do you think Adam had a navel?”
Hank narrowed his eyes and ducked his head, frowning at her. “What? Adam who?”
“Uh, the biblical one. You know … Genesis. Adam. Never mind. Forget it.” She felt like such a fool. “Do you think you could show me that bedroom now?” Oh, way to go, Maddie. Take the man straight to the bedroom. It’s the biggest day of his life and you’re horny. Sexist pigette.
Hank said nothing. So rich and charged was the air between them that Maddie could barely breathe, much less blink. Then suddenly he chuckled, his black eyes glittering like those of a pirate’s. “Sure. I’ll show you the bedroom.” He got up from his chair … just seemed to glide right out of it. Then he was on his feet and holding a hand out to her. “Just put yourself into my hands and I’ll give you the guided tour.”
Maddie almost whimpered with that. Me. In his hands. After a brief but ungraceful struggle between her skirt’s fabric and the sofa’s velvety cushions, neither one of which wanted to give, she came to her feet and took Hank’s hand. The moment she touched him, her heart did backflips and pinged about in her chest. Her bones melted and she ended up a puddle at his feet. In her mind, at least. In reality, she walked alongside him and across the vast wasteland of the great room.
She couldn’t have been happier being here with him like this. She couldn’t have been more aware of his nearness, either. He smelled so good. And felt so warm. Capturing her attention, surprisingly, was his shoulder nearest her. Encased in a really expensive-looking suit coat, it was eye level to her and looked so broad and strong and capable. She wanted to lay her head on it and rest and know she was safe and protected and loved. Sudden and surprising tears pricked at the backs of her eyes.
“Just so you know,” she felt compelled to say out loud, “I do know there’s a lot at stake here today, Hank. And I am taking it all seriously. I want a good outcome. I just think if you brief me one more time on how difficult it can all be, I’ll come completely undone.”
“I think I knew all that, Maddie, but thank you for saying it.”
With that he indeed gave her a guided tour. One after another, the rooms were staggering, yet understated and elegant. This was a world Maddie had never known. And didn’t really want to live in. She meant it when she said wealth and all its trappings held no allure for her. She was like a 1970s flower child in that respect. Actually, she had been when she was a baby. Her parents had been hippies and had instilled in her some of those virtues. Hippie virtues. Ha. Who knew? But luckily for her, and themselves, they’d outgrown the era and gone on to be responsible adults and parents. And why was she thinking about all this now? Anything to keep her from latching on to Hank and climbing straight up him and wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him full on the—
“And here’s the bedroom,” Hank announced, turning them into a breathtaking room fit for a sultan. “My bedroom, to be exact.” And there he was … the sultan.
Maddie saw her luggage inside the doorway. Good manners pushed to the fore. She looked up at him. “Oh, I don’t want to take your bed, Hank. Surely there’s a guest room. I mean, where will you sleep tonight?”
He chuckled, leading her inside. “Now that’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?”
Maddie felt stupid. The man could have a girlfriend. Or worse. A fiancé. A hot date. Two or three hot dates. A wife and three children. He’d never said. She’d just assumed he was single. He was single, wasn’t he? Should she ask? Don’t you even dare ask, Maddie. “I’m sure you’ll find a corner or a doorway to curl up in.”
“That was my plan.” He let go of her hand and, with a grand sweep of his arm, said, “Amazing, huh? All this just for a place where you sleep.”
“And other things.” Again it was out before she could stop herself. When had she become this blurting imbecile? Could it be her closeness to him and being in the man’s bedroom, for God’s sake? Why wouldn’t she be nervous?
“And other things,” Hank said pointedly, grinning hotly down at her.
Maddie’s breath caught. She had to step away from him. Now. So she went over to the bed and ran her hand over the quilted cover. “Wow. Soft. Nice. A girl could really feel snuggly and cozy in this bed.”
Hank didn’t say anything. Maddie turned around. He wasn’t where she’d left him. Then she saw him. The thick carpeting must have muffled his steps as he’d walked away from her. He stood now, his back to her, in front of a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. As she watched, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets. He looked such a sad, lonely figure. Maddie stared at his back and waited. For what, she didn’t know. Within a few seconds, though, she realized that her gaze was wandering all over the man.
She tried to convince herself she was simply admiring a thing of beauty. Like a statue. A fully clothed statue. She’d always heard it said that the clothes made the man. Not in this case. The man made the clothes. Very arresting. His physique was athletic, broad-shouldered, well muscled. Powerful. His dark hair was freshly cut. His accessories impeccable. His white shirt snowy. And his dark suit fit him as if it had been tailor-made for him. It probably had. He looked nothing like the guy who had tied on an apron at her shop and helped Celeste with customers. Had that really been only a week ago? And had that man really been this one in front of her now? The two just wouldn’t come together in her mind.
“You know, Maddie,” Hank said suddenly, startling her back to the moment. He still faced Manhattan. “I could sleep here tonight.”