by Olivia Miles
Lila struggled to form the words, wishing there was something, anything she could say to avoid having to work with Sam, but she knew it was hopeless. She wasn’t in a position to turn down this opportunity, and another one wasn’t likely to just fall into her lap anytime soon.
Mitch tented his hands on the table. “Some might call this an opportunity of a lifetime.”
Never had a phrase filled with so much hope felt like such a burden.
An opportunity of a lifetime. That’s what it was, all right. And no one, especially Sam Crawford of all people, was going to stop Lila from seizing it.
Chapter Two
Lila waited until she was a safe distance from the restaurant before dropping onto a bench and slowly easing her shoe off her heel. She wiggled her toes and sighed. She knew her sister would be anxiously waiting to hear about the meeting, but she couldn’t bring herself to call her just yet. She needed to clear her head first, process what had just happened.
Sam Crawford. It just didn’t seem possible!
She hadn’t known the last time she saw Sam that it would be her last. Until today. She’d gone to work, the same as any other day, and then . . . Bam. No job. No boyfriend. Blindsided.
Well, her eyes were open now. But her heart . . . Her heart was permanently closed to that man. It had to be.
Right. She wedged the shoe back on her aching foot, gritting her teeth at the pain, and began hobbling down the sidewalk. She’d hoped the walk would clear her head, but it was no use. Her mind was spinning. With images of Sam. With memories of the time they’d spent together. Of the way he looked today.
She took the “L” north, feeling better when she was back in the Lincoln Park neighborhood. With its trendy shops, chic restaurants, and historic brownstones, it was a far cry from the hustle of the Loop, and the primary reason she had chosen to rent office space here. She’d tried the corporate world, but here, she was inspired.
Not yet ready to go back to the office, she stopped for an iced coffee at her favorite café on the corner. It was a daily habit that had turned into a ritual once she became friends with the owner, and no matter how rotten her day was going, she always felt a little brighter after some good coffee and a few laughs.
“The usual?” Hailey asked with a wink as Lila walked up to the counter.
Lila grinned. Usually, she salivated over all the goodies, and then, pouting, opted for a drip coffee with skim milk. Oh, when she had reason to celebrate she selected a pastry, and when she had reason to wallow, she went straight for anything with chocolate, but more often than not, her tip was bigger than her bill.
Lila eyed the display case hungrily, taking in the muffins and cookies she knew Hailey baked fresh each morning. She’d only picked at her lunch, and a chocolate chip scone might help push back the knot that had settled directly in her stomach. “I’ll take that scone. And make the coffee a mocha, actually.”
“Whipped cream?” Hailey lifted a brow.
“Why not?” Lila sighed. “And the dark chocolate shavings. Extra, if possible.”
“Let me guess, one of those days?” Hailey tossed her ponytail over her shoulder as she walked over to the espresso machine.
You could say that again, Lila thought. “On second thought, I’ll take one of those brownies, too. For Penny,” she added. Her assistant had been looking a bit glum lately. Yet another Internet date gone wrong.
She collected her coffee and the crisp white paper bag and waved good-bye to her friend, wishing she could stay and chat but knowing that she couldn’t. It was time to get to work. To focus on figuring out this mess. She wandered slowly back to her office, considerably more deflated than she’d felt just a mere two hours ago when so much had seemed possible.
Now landing the Reed Sugar account felt nothing short of impossible.
“You have a phone call,” said Penny as Lila entered the small waiting area that could only hold a writing desk, two visitor chairs, and a sad-looking plant named Fred.
It was probably Mary, asking for details. Lila hated the thought of her sister eying the clock, crossing her fingers, and waiting for the news that could turn her life around. But more than that, she hated the thought of being the one to let her down.
“Just put it through to voice mail, please. I have to go eat my emotions.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a fudgy cheesecake brownie. “For you.”
“Oh, wow. I needed this,” Penny said. “I swear, I’m about ready to just swear off men completely!”
Lila pursed her lips. “Oh, believe me. I understand.”
“But the thing is, there is sort of someone new. We’ve been e-mailing, so . . . you never know!”
Lila tried to give her a smile of encouragement but found it difficult. Her heart felt heavy, her stomach felt sick, and her head was muddled with thoughts of Sam and the pressure to overlook the ache in her chest. She knew that now was the time to focus, to work hard and not back down, but she couldn’t stop thinking of those bright blue eyes, that smile, and the way her body seemed to be on high alert, so in tune with his every move.
“I take it the meeting didn’t go so well?” Penny asked worriedly.
“Let’s just say it didn’t go as expected,” Lila said.
“Well, this might cheer you up, then,” Penny said, waggling her eyebrows. She lowered her voice, as if she and Lila were in on some sort of tantalizing secret together. “The person on the phone is a man by the name of Sam. And he’s been holding for nearly ten minutes.”
Lila forced her expression to remain steady, which wasn’t an easy task. How typical of him to omit a last name. As if he was the only Sam in the world.
Sadly, he was the only Sam in her world.
“Put it through,” she sighed, feeling her shoulders deflate. She watched as Penny pressed a button, set down the receiver, and happily bit into her brownie.
Lila walked into her adjacent office and shut the French doors behind her with a click, wondering just exactly what she would say when she picked up that receiver. Oh, there were several choice words she’d like to say, of course, but then none of them would get her any closer to her goal of winning Reed Sugar’s business.
She settled into her chair and let the phone ring twice. The sound seemed to reverberate off the small four walls like an alarm.
“Lila Harris?” she answered in her most crisp and professional tone.
“Lila Harris,” Sam said smoothly, and Lila’s heart reflexively beat a little faster. Even after everything he had done to her, his voice still had a way of making her body respond all on its own. It was bitterly unfair.
“Oh, hello, Sam,” Lila quipped pleasantly, hoping she was successful in keeping her voice from shaking. Under her desk, her stiff, patent leather kitten heels did a nervous tap dance on the floor.
“Cut the formalities, Lila,” Sam jumped in. “You knew it was me.”
Lila bit back a wave of frustration. He was as cocky as ever, proving to her just how little he had changed. His arrogance was a trait she had found attractive—once. When she was twenty-two and fresh out of college, it was easy to fall for that swag around the office, the confident grin. Now, at twenty-nine, she knew better. “What do you want, Sam?”
“Well, since you’re cutting to the chase, I will too. Have dinner with me tonight.”
“I can’t.” The words were out of her mouth before she had time to process them, but nevertheless, they were true. She might not have plans for the evening other than a date with her sister in front of their favorite television show, but that didn’t mean she was available for dinner with the guy who had shattered her heart and then stomped all over it.
“Can’t or won’t?”
Lila sighed in exasperation and looked out her window onto the tree-lined street. Usually she found the view inspiring, sometimes even distracting, but today she barely registered it. “I don’t see any point in it.”
“No point in it?” Sam parroted. “I’m hurt!”
His li
ghthearted approach stung; he clearly harbored no remorse, otherwise this wouldn’t be so easy for him. God knew it wasn’t easy for her.
“Besides,” Sam continued, “there is a point in it. If we’re going to be working together on this campaign, you’re going to have to get used to spending time with me again.”
Again. It was a faint acknowledgement of their past. One that he didn’t seem to struggle with. Lila knew with a sinking sensation that he was right. She had hoped the majority of their collaboration could be accomplished via e-mail or conference calls, but deep down she had known this was wishful thinking. She closed her eyes and counted to five. “How long are you staying in town?”
“As long as it takes,” Sam replied.
Now this was suspicious. “Won’t they need you back in New York?”
“Nah. It’s a well-oiled machine over there. Besides, if they need me, I can always fly in for the day.”
“What about clothes?” She was stalling, she knew, but she didn’t care. She had to clear her head, she had to think rationally. She had to stop her heart from pinging every time that smooth, deep voice purred down the line.
“My hotel is right near Michigan Avenue. I can buy a new wardrobe in under an hour. Now, I’ll ask you again. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
It was inevitable, wasn’t it? If she didn’t have dinner with him tonight, then she’d probably have to see him tomorrow. Better to get it over with, she decided. “Fine,” she sighed.
“I knew I’d wear you down.” Sam’s smirk could be heard through his words, and Lila gripped the phone in agitation.
“I have a knitting class after work,” she lied, drawing on the one extra-curricular activity she allowed herself at the cute little yarn shop next door to her office.
“A knitting class?” Sam guffawed. Lila listened in seething silence as he chuckled merrily and then said, “I thought only my grandmother did that.”
For a split second, Lila was thrown. In all their time together, Sam rarely mentioned his family. Aside from his brother and father, Lila knew nothing of the people in Sam’s world. Yet another red flag she’d been hell-bent on overlooking. Stupid girl.
Well, she was smarter than that now.
“I can meet you at eight,” she said. That would give her enough time to catch up with Mary and manage her sister’s expectations. Guiltily, she glanced down at the flashing blue light on the corner of her cell phone. She was doing this for her family, she reminded herself firmly, and somehow that made spending time with Sam tolerable. Almost.
“Eight o’clock it is then,” Sam said. “I’ve heard good things about a place called Harbor House. Sound good to you?”
“Fine,” she muttered and placed the receiver back on the cradle without another word. She sat back in her chair, staring at the phone, contemplating the events of the day. In a matter of hours she would be sitting down to dinner with the man who had betrayed her in the worst way possible. She should be disgusted. She should be furious. She should be dreading the very thought of it.
So why was it that she couldn’t stop herself from smiling?
***
Sam swiped his key card through the slot, waited for the beep and the click of the lock, and then entered his hotel suite. Loosening his tie, he slipped it over his head and tossed it on a nearby chair, followed by his suit jacket. He’d walked back from lunch, stopping to buy a few things for his extended stay, and he felt sweaty and anxious.
It was going to be a difficult two weeks, and only a few things could take the edge off right now. At this hour in the afternoon, Sam decided his best bet was a long run.
There was a gym in the hotel, but fresh air would clear his head, and from his window he could see the path along the lakefront was already filled with joggers. There were boats in the distance, their sails blowing in the window, some so far out they looked like small red or blue dots bobbing on the water.
He changed quickly, eager to get outside and enjoy a rare break from his routine, when his phone began to vibrate. Cursing under his breath, he reluctantly tapped on the message. His brother had two words for him: Call me. It was the seventh text of this nature in the last hour, Sam noted with a frown. Even from eight hundred miles away, he couldn’t escape the office.
“What’s going on?” he asked when his brother answered his call on the first ring.
“We lost them,” Rex said flatly.
Sam sat down on the bed. So it had really happened. Jolt Coffee had been threatening to break their contract for over a month—citing creative differences, even though it was evident they were really looking to cut costs—but Sam never thought they’d end their contract so quickly. Their biggest client. Gone. Just like that. Warning or no warning, it was still a punch in the gut.
“Who are they going with?”
“It hasn’t been announced yet.” Rex’s voice was thick with tension. The implications of losing Jolt Coffee were endless. The media would have a field day with this; the chosen firm would garner immediate attention and respect. At their expense.
“So we have some time then,” Sam mused aloud.
“Every account manager is feeling out the status of their clients right now. But when this hits . . .”
“There are going to be questions,” Sam finished. No doubt, other clients would wonder why things fell apart.
Rex groaned. “How did the meeting with Reed go?”
“They’re definitely eager to use us,” Sam said, omitting to mention that Reed had already heard rumors of Jolt Coffee taking their business elsewhere. “But they have a slightly unconventional way of wanting to go about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“They want us to use a freelance copywriter.” Sam paused. “Do you happen to recall Lila Harris?”
Sam wasn’t surprised to hear Rex reply, “No.”
“She was a copywriter for us about six and a half years ago.”
There was a pause. “Brown hair, long legs, nice smile?”
Sam swallowed. If he let himself, he could still remember the warmth between her thighs when he—“Yes, that’s her.”
“I remember her. You took a liking to her. Pretty girl,” Rex said. More sharply he added, “I also remember she had no vision, she was headstrong, and Dad fired her. And now you’re telling me that Reed Sugar wants us to use her as our copywriter?”
“So they said,” Sam said, his stomach tightening.
“Dad will never go for this.”
Sam crossed to the window and stared out at the view. Preston Crawford may have technically retired from the day to day work at the firm, but the agency was still his legacy, his namesake. More than Sam himself had ever been, Sam thought darkly.
He turned away from the window. “And if it’s this or nothing?”
After another heavy pause, Rex asked, “What did they propose?”
“They want to see something in two weeks.”
“Two weeks.” The words hung in the air. Both men knew how much could happen in such a relatively short amount of time. Jolt Coffee could make an announcement tomorrow, for all they knew, and in this industry, your reputation was built on the caliber of your clients.
“Need me back before then?” Sam asked as an image of Lila immediately formed. He tossed it aside just as quickly. He couldn’t afford a distraction now.
“We need you where you are,” Rex replied. “Reed Sugar could be the deciding factor in whether this agency sinks or swims. Do whatever it takes to make sure we get that account.”
Sam ended the call and canceled his return flight, happy to avoid going back to New York tomorrow. The office was tense, the pressure high, and the stakes . . . even higher. He knew what people thought of him—overly ambitious, cutthroat, heartless even—but they didn’t know why. If they did . . . Well, if they did they’d look at him a little differently, and he’d be out of the game.
For the thousandth time he reminded himself of this. No one, not even Lila, could know the details
of his past. It had been difficult to keep so much from her when they were dating. All he’d wanted to do was get close, open up, but the little voice in his head held him back, reminding him of all he stood to lose. He’d fought too hard to get where he was just to end up at square one.
That’s what he told himself, at least.
Sam tossed the phone on the bed and grabbed his room key. He needed to run, far and fast, and shake these racing thoughts from his head. He should be thinking about Reed right now, and everyone who was depending on him back in New York. But all he could think about was Lila. The way she used to sigh his name first thing in the morning, pressing her warm skin close against his chest, her hair tickling his face. The sound of her laugh when he’d chase her through the rain, all the way back to that tiny little studio apartment she was renting in Brooklyn.
The way she looked at him one last time, all those years ago, her eyes dark with hurt. And the way he felt, standing in that cold boardroom, watching her go, and knowing, with sinking admission, that no matter how badly he wanted to, he couldn’t go after her.
***
Mary was standing in the vestibule of their apartment building, flipping through her mail and tossing flyers into the bin, when Lila came home that evening.
“Hey there,” she said with a smile that lit up her entire face. “How was the meeting?”
Lila hated the hope she saw in her younger sister’s expression. Mary had given up a lot over the years, never giving the impression that she was making a sacrifice, and in all that time she’d never vocalized a wish for more than she had. Until recently.
When Gramps died four months ago, they inherited their grandparents’ wedding china, a collection of photo albums and vintage furniture, the cuckoo clock, an alarming amount of debt, and, of course, Sunshine Creamery, the family’s ice cream parlor. As much as Lila hated the thought of selling the place, it was old and tired and in dire need of a renovation neither of them could afford.
She’d expected her sister to reach the same conclusion, but instead Mary had begged Lila to find a way. Any way. Lila understood. Sunshine Creamery, with its Formica counters, mint green walls, and faded pink-striped awning, was the last connection they had to their past, to any family outside each other. They’d grown up in that place, dishing out sundaes during summer break, sneaking maraschino cherries from the bowl in the fridge, watching their grandparents, and later, just their grandfather mix the creamy concoctions and store them in carefully labeled cardboard containers in the freezer.
