by Olivia Miles
Sam squared his jaw. His stare was cold. “I told you. My mother didn’t bake.”
“No, but—” Lila sighed. This wasn’t going as well as she had hoped. “Baking. Recipes. Childhood treats. It stirs up emotions. It makes you want to relive experiences. If we focus on that feeling of nostalgia, the ability to recreate a memory—”
“We’re here to bounce ideas off one another, Lila. Not lock ourselves into one vision.”
Sam finished his cookie and wiped his hands on his jeans. Before she knew what he was doing, he stood and came around the coffee table to sit down next to her. Despite herself, Lila felt her body stiffen with desire. She shifted to the end of the couch, but Sam didn’t seem to notice. He rested his elbow on the back cushion, and tipped his head. “If you want me to go with this idea, you’re going to have to sell me, and I’m not sold. Give me your pitch. Pretend I’m Reed.”
Lila narrowed her gaze. “Don’t talk down to me, Sam,” she warned.
“I’m not talking down to you!” Sam’s brow shot up in surprise. He looked so genuinely surprised at the insinuation that Lila felt a twinge of self-doubt.
But then, he was so used to getting his way, he didn’t even realize when he was manipulating a situation anymore.
“I don’t know how many times I have to remind you that you are not my boss. Not on this project. Not anywhere,” Lila said icily. She worked independently for a reason—it meant her welfare was in her own hands, not someone else’s. Certainly not Sam’s.
Sam tipped his chin, his grin wry. “Don’t mind me for stating the obvious here, Lila, but I think you’re overreacting.”
“Maybe I am. But for someone who is so hell-bent on putting their family above anyone else, I’m sort of surprised you’re so quick to shut down my idea. But then, I guess that’s nothing new.”
Sam regarded her carefully. “Do you really want to get into this?”
It was a sobering question. Lila sat back, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”
“But see, that’s just it. You claim you’ve moved on. You take a chance every opportunity you have to tell me how far you’ve come, and yet you can’t stop reminding me of the past. You’re holding this over me, Lila, and that’s not fair.”
Well, that was rich. “There was nothing fair about what you did to me, Sam. Professionally or otherwise.”
“I tried to help you,” Sam protested.
“Help me?” Lila scoffed. “Sam, you kicked me off your campaign. That same day I got my pink slip. You sat in the room and said nothing in my defense as your father fired me. I waited for you to call . . .” She stopped herself. She’d said too much.
She chanced a glance in his direction, wondering just how much that little tidbit boosted his ego. Strangely, he looked more sad than pleased.
Lila swallowed hard and reached for her drink.
There was a side to Sam that would always be appealing. But the other side of him won out every time.
“When it comes to my family, it’s complicated,” Sam said. “I wish you could understand that.”
She wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. “I do see that. I see someone who is so determined to get to the top and stay at the top that they don’t care who they knock down in the pursuit. You have no trouble going after what you want and trampling over everyone in your path to get there. No apology. No responsibility. It’s all about money to you. All about getting ahead in your family business.”
Silence stretched louder than any of the words she had just spoken. “Maybe you’re right,” Sam said eventually, and Lila was jarred by his calm, even tone.
She hadn’t been expecting that.
Realizing she alone was fighting this battle, she swallowed quickly and waited for the heat to fade from her cheeks. If there was anyone in this world who brought out the worst in her, it was the man sitting next to her.
She really needed to get away from him.
She began scrambling for her belongings, clumsily stacking her paperwork and accidentally dropping her pen. It rolled to Sam’s feet, and he bent to reach it.
“Here.” His smooth voice was dangerously deep as she took the pen from his hand. The quick touch of his fingers sent a shock of electricity down her spine that tingled long after she had pulled away.
“You can keep the cookies,” she managed, as she hurried to the door, sensing him close behind. With her hand on the knob, she turned abruptly, her heart sinking at the sight of him just a few feet away.
Without the suit and tie, he looked like her old boyfriend, not like the coldhearted businessman who would do anything to stay on top. Sam. Just Sam. Sam who would wrap his thick arms around her and hold her all night long. Sam who would breathe into her hair, and kiss her neck, and who took her to a different sushi restaurant every Friday, just for fun. Sam who knew she liked fruity pink drinks and pearl earrings.
Sam who knew just what they’d shared and just what he’d ruined.
She straightened her spine.
“I have to go,” she said again, more to herself than to him. She pulled open the door and walked out into the hall, this time without looking back.
Chapter Six
Since moving back to Chicago, Lila and Mary had resumed their weekly summer tradition of strolling through the neighborhood farmers market, making a picnic lunch from all their findings, and spending the afternoon at the beach sprawled out on their grandmother’s old patchwork quilt, reading novels and fashion magazines. Since Mary had started taking shifts at a restaurant last month to save up a little extra money for the ice cream parlor, the second half of this cherished routine had been sacrificed. It was worth it, though. Just like suffering through another ten days with Sam would be worth it.
The day was warm, and the crowds were already thick on the section of Lincoln Park roped off for the market. Lila hitched her canvas tote higher on her shoulder and followed Mary to the flower stand—always their first stop of the day, even though they rarely treated themselves to anything more than the occasional bunch of sunflowers to cheer up their small kitchen table.
“I have to be at work in an hour,” Mary sighed. “I know I shouldn’t complain, but there’s a Cubs game today, and I just know it’s going to get rowdy.”
“Maybe you’ll make some good tips,” Lila said.
“Maybe.” Mary brightened, as she always did when she started to think about the ice cream parlor. “Well, at least I’m off tomorrow. I’m going to spend the day at Sunshine. I need to perfect those waffle cones. I never could do it quite like Gramps . . .”
“He was one of a kind,” Lila said wistfully.
Mary picked up a bouquet of pale pink roses, smelled them, and then set them back in a bucket. “You can come with me, if you’d like. Unless you have another date with Sam.” She winked.
Lila was beginning to feel uneasy with all this talk of Sam and the ice cream parlor. It was taking everything in her not to tell Mary exactly the reason behind all her meetings with her ex-boyfriend. He’d left her alone for most of yesterday, at least, offering only a brief voice mail message that he had some other business to attend to, and an unsettling reminder that they both had a lot at stake. If only he knew just how much she had at stake . . .
Lila felt her lips thin. He probably wouldn’t care. He certainly wouldn’t understand why she was doing all this to save an ice cream parlor that had never turned much more than a bare bones profit.
Oh, Gramps. Lila couldn’t fault him. How could her heart ever be filled with anything but love when she thought of the gleam in his eye when he came up with a new flavor, the ear to ear smile he’d flash when he handed her a triple cone? He was in the business of making people happy. Not getting rich. He’d passed the same sentiments down to his beloved granddaughters, teaching them through his actions more than his words that it was people he valued. Family, not money.
“Rain check?” Lila asked her sister. “I think I’ll get a head start on the w
ork week tomorrow.” She had some other clients to attend to, and it would be better than worrying all day about how she was going to handle her next interaction with Sam, or how on earth they would possibly ever come to an agreement on this project.
“Only ten days until your next meeting with Reed Sugar!” Mary reminded her giddily. As if Lila hadn’t been thinking the same thought since the moment she’d opened her eyes this morning. Well, that and how good Sam looked in a T-shirt. “Why do you look so worried? You have a huge client roster.”
But none as big as Reed Sugar.
The girls walked over to the next stand, where they loaded their bags with fresh blueberries.
“Remember that blueberry cheesecake ice cream Gramps used to make?” Mary asked, grinning.
“He only used fresh berries.” Lila smiled, thinking of how every summer he’d bring them down to Michigan, hand them each a bucket, and tell them to pick as many berries as they could. “You would eat more off the bush than you’d collect in your pail.”
Mary laughed. “I’m planning to bring that flavor back, only I might add my own touch with a bit of graham cracker crust mixed in.”
Lila tried to look as enthusiastic as her sister, but she couldn’t help worrying. They’d agreed to wait six months before selling the storefront, until the end of summer. It was unlikely another account as big as Reed would come along before then, if ever. Nothing was a sure thing yet. And if Lila had learned anything from her time with Sam, it was that nothing ever was.
“Lila? Lila?”
Lila blinked quickly and looked at her sister, who could only laugh at her confusion. “Boy, you do have a lot on your mind these days. You didn’t even notice that your phone is ringing.”
Lila frowned, suddenly hearing the electronic jingle. She pulled the phone from her back pocket and glanced at the screen, her breath catching when she noticed the name on the screen. All these years later, she still hadn’t deleted the contact. What was she holding on to? Some fantasy that Sam would stumble back into her life?
Sadly, she knew the answer to that. The few dates she’d been on in Chicago had been disappointing. No one could excite her like Sam.
And no one, she’d promised herself, could hurt her like him either.
“Hello?” She turned away so her sister wouldn’t overhear anything that might be said.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked, ignoring small talk altogether.
Lila paused, trying to understand what he was implying. “You mean . . . now?”
“Meet me at Belmont Harbor at noon,” Sam said.
“I—”
But he cut her off before she could think of an excuse quickly enough.
“It was Sam, wasn’t it?” Mary asked as Lila pushed her phone back into her pocket. “That makes three dates in one week!”
“It’s a business meeting,” she said to Mary, but she couldn’t meet her sister’s eye, because this time, she wasn’t so sure that’s all it was.
***
Sam had been waiting on the dock for twenty minutes when Lila finally appeared. She’d shed the uptight corporate look, he noticed with an appreciative grin, not that he minded the tight skirts that grazed her knees and hugged her curves. As she walked toward him, he allowed himself a moment to take in the flare of her hips under tight navy capri pants, and the swell of her breasts under her thin white tank top.
Sunglasses hid her eyes, but from the pout of her lips, he could only assume they were burning with accusation.
“What is this?” she demanded, folding her arms across her chest as she came to a stop a safe five feet from where he was leaning against the sailboat he’d rented for the afternoon.
“A little thing called team work,” Sam replied. “Have you sailed before?”
Lila tipped her chin. She didn’t look amused.
“It’s a two-person job,” he continued.
“How do you know I don’t get seasick?” Lila inquired.
Sam frowned. He hadn’t factored that into his plan. “Do you?”
Lila sighed. “No.”
“Then you don’t have an excuse.” He held out his hand, but she brushed past him and climbed onto the boat. She struggled slightly, losing her balance at one point, and leaned on the wheel to steady herself, but Sam knew better than to press his offer to help.
He stood back, admiring the way the sun caught the highlights in her hair and brought out a hint of pink in her bare shoulders, swallowing his smile as she finally took her seat, her nose slightly lifted, her profile proud. Without any more hesitation, he began untying the bow line.
Lila watched all this in silence. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked warily.
Sam grinned. “I told you. My dad has a boat at his beach house. We do this every summer. Spend a day on the water, have some food, some drinks . . .” Only it wasn’t as idyllic as he was making it out to be. It was more the way he wished it could be. The boating afternoons often consisted of business talk—clients, staff, money, competition. He longed for something deeper, for a few belly laughs even. But he’d settle for what he had. It was more than he’d expected at one point in time, after all. “Help yourself to some water if you want—there’s a cooler near your feet.”
Lila didn’t move. “What is this, Sam?”
“I told you,” he said, tossing the rope to the side. “Team work. If we’re gonna win that account, we need to learn to lean on each other. Besides, once I have you out on the water, you can’t exactly run off and leave again.”
“I can swim,” Lila said.
“Honey, do you know how cold that water is?” Sam laughed as he stepped into the boat. “Here. I’m going to turn on the motor, and you’re going to help steer us out of the slip while I manage the spring line.”
Lila looked alarmed. “But I’ve never driven a boat before.”
“You’ll do great,” Sam said, motioning to the wheel. He started the engine and listened to its steady purr. “Let the engine warm up while I cast off the stern line. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.” Before she could protest, he untied the ropes and maneuvered the spring line around the dock post. “We’re near the end of the fairway, so all we want to do is bring it forward and then take it to the left. Ready?”
Her knuckles were white as she gripped the wheel, but they were moving slowly, and he knew in a pinch he could jump down and take the helm. “Great. A little more to the left. That’s it.” Once they left the slip, he waited to see if she’d ask him to take over, but she surprised him by taking his direction instead.
She was starting to trust him again. At least he hoped she was.
“Now it’s time raise the main sail,” Sam grinned. “First thing we need to do is point the boat into the wind.” He came up behind her and set his hands on either side of the wheel, pressing his chest against her back. Her hair was blowing in the breeze, tickling his face, but he took his time turning, wanting to hold on to the moment.
Beneath him, Lila felt warm and small. His arms brushed against hers, sending a jolt straight to his groin, and he leaned in a little closer. “See, just like this.”
He glanced down at her neck, so smooth and long, wanting more than anything to bury his face in the little crook where it met her shoulder, to trace a path with his mouth, up, up, until his lips were on hers.
Stiffening, he pulled back. He squinted against the sun and began releasing the boom vang. He didn’t look at Lila again until the sail was raised and they were moving steadily.
“You’re good at this,” Lila admitted with a slow smile, leaving the helm to sit on the edge of the boat beside him. “Did you always sail?”
Sam pulled a bottle of water out of the cooler and twisted the cap. “Nope,” he said. “I picked it up when I was in college.” He glanced at her sidelong, but she didn’t seem suspicious.
Leaning back into her palms, she smiled up at the sky. They were headed south, and as the skyline came into better view, Lila pointed out a few of the building
s. They were keeping things light, making an effort, he supposed, but eventually they had to get around to discussing Reed. He’d spent most of yesterday fielding calls from the agency, trying to deal with the crisis unfolding. It felt good to forget about that for a while.
“My parents took us boating once,” Lila offered. “It was just a canoe, but my sister and I loved it.”
Sam waited for her to go on, but that seemed to be all she wanted to share. She’d told him about her parents early into their relationship, matter-of-factly, the way one could only do about something that had happened a long time ago but still hurt to this day. There was an expectation that eventually you got over those types of things, that the pain faded, and you moved on. He saw the hurt in her eyes, the way she dismissed the subject just as quickly as she’d broached it with a shrug of her shoulders and a brave smile that drooped at the corners. It tore something open inside him—a wound he’d never let heal. He wanted to tell her he got it, he understood, but instead he’d squeezed her hand, taken a swig of his drink, followed her lead, and switched topics.
“It was one of the last memories I have of them,” Lila whispered, almost to herself.
Sam ground down on his teeth. “You’re lucky to have that.”
She gave him a little half smile. “You’re father wasn’t interested in canoe trips when you were little?”
Sam shrugged. He wouldn’t know, would he? “My father’s life was that company. It still is,” he said tightly.
“I was surprised to hear he’d retired,” Lila commented.
Sam stiffened. To the public they’d made it appear that Preston has stepped down by his own free will. No one knew about the early onset Alzheimer’s that eventually made it impossible for him to oversee the company.
“Oh, he still keeps his toe in the water,” Sam said gruffly, forcing back the emotions that hit him full force. It happened every time he thought of the bitter irony of his situation. Only when he finally found his father did he stand to lose him again. Oh, the man was still sharp, still a bigger than life force, but every now and then Sam was reminded . . . time was running out. He had to make the most of this opportunity with his father. Had to make him proud while he still could. “My dad is a tough man to please.”
