by Alice Gaines
The door opened behind her, and Peter emerged into the hallway. “What possessed you to behave that way?”
Oh, he was angry, was he? He hadn’t just lost months of work and dreams. She went to him and got right into his face. “Give it to us.”
He stared at her as if she’d started speaking a foreign language. “What?”
“The property,” she said. “Give it to Archways.”
“I don’t know if that’s even possible.”
She gestured toward the doorway. “We’ll go back inside and find out.”
“Haven’t you done enough damage for one day?”
“You didn’t know we were competing for the same property, did you?” she asked.
“No.” The light of cold steel had entered his eyes.
“If you had known, would you have looked elsewhere?” she demanded.
“I don’t know.” He threw his hands up in frustration. “Perhaps.”
“Then you can look elsewhere now.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” he said.
“Why?” She tapped her foot. Anything to burn off some of the fury. “You haven’t started building yet.”
“I’ve paid for environmental impact reports. I’ve had plans drawn up. Architects don’t come cheaply, as I’m sure you know.”
“You can afford to lose that.”
He reeled backward as if she’d slapped him, and then the steel in his gaze turned to ice. After no more than a heartbeat, he straightened until he towered over her. “Let me give you a little lesson in human nature. No one likes to be treated like a sack of money.”
She ran her arms around her ribs and hugged herself. He’d sounded angry before. He’d gone way past that now.
“I didn’t expect that of you,” he said. “It rather makes me regret letting you close.”
Talk about a slap. He regretted their relationship, did he? Well, who cared? Whatever they’d had, it had effectively ended inside Stemple’s office. She’d get over their little honeymoon or whatever it had been. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach would go away, and she’d go back to the real world where people took her seriously, despite her youth.
“You don’t have to worry about me getting close any longer, Sir Peter. That’s over.” She headed down the hallway toward the exit.
“Susan,” his voice followed her.
She waved a hand in the air. “Go to hell.”
That done, she made it to the stairway and headed down as fast as her feet could manage. She’d find a bus stop and let the Muni take her home. She was done with limousines, fast sports cars, and the men who owned them.
* * *
Her things were still in her room. Like an idiot, Peter had checked the moment he got back to the condo. She’d have to have flown to beat the limousine across town if she’d wanted to get there first to pack. Even then, he could have confronted her in the act. Now, hours later, she still hadn’t returned. Someone else could have the table he’d reserved at the trendy new California cuisine restaurant. They wouldn’t be dining together tonight. The larger question—would they ever share another meal?
He went to the hutch and poured a stiff drink of brandy and then remembered she’d selected it. Instead of choking on the liquor, he set the glass back down and went to the stereo. Although she’d also picked out the music, he selected a disk of smooth jazz and slid it into the player. Then he sat on the couch and did his best imitation of someone relaxing. And running the day over and over in his mind, as if by changing one or two details he could make Susan materialize.
What made the whole situation laughable was that he’d been right. About everything. He hadn’t tried to steal the property away from her and her group. He’d made most of the arrangements before arriving in San Francisco, meeting her, and learning of Archways’ existence. She’d asked for the impossible in suggesting he choose another location. Despite her anger, even she must have seen that. And finally, she’d walked away from him before they could talk the problem through. Together, they might have found a solution. Instead she’d insulted Stemple, the one man who could make or break her organization’s projects, and dumped him, all within a matter of less than twenty minutes. She owed lots of people apologies, including him.
She wouldn’t see it that way, of course. Impossible, idealistic, passionate woman. Bloody hell, he should have had that brandy after all.
His cell sounded Geoffrey’s tone. Peter had to search for the remote for a few seconds so he could turn the stereo off, and then he answered. “Breit here.”
“Peter,” Geoffrey said. “I’m in a cab on the way to your location.”
“Good man. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Are you all right? You sound a bit…off.”
Peter rubbed his free hand over his face. “That’s an apt word.”
“Can I pick something up while I’m out?” Geoffrey said. “Maybe a woman or two?”
Their usual joke. They’d spent nights working until the sun came up and usually ended complaining that they could use the love of a good woman. Or perhaps a massage, being too tired to manage much more than that. He’d never had that problem with Susan around.
“No thanks. I’ve had enough of women for a while, I think.”
“One finally got to you?” Geoffrey said. “That’s a first. I want to hear all about it.”
“If you don’t mind me bending your ear.” They normally didn’t talk about their personal lives. In fact, they didn’t have much time for personal lives. He’d always assumed Geoffrey would eventually find the right woman and leave him for a more sane existence. He’d never expected he might be the one to succumb first. Had he succumbed? Had she become that important to him?
Every sign indicated she had. He’d gone hollow inside, as if only she could fill him. If he didn’t do something to fix the situation, he might well end up in her room going through her things just to get the scent of her back in his nostrils. Pathetic but inescapable. He wasn’t going to be happy again until he worked things out with her.
“Get here fast, will you?” he said into the phone. “I have a problem we need to work on.”
* * *
Susan cringed inwardly and forced herself to dial work.
Lauren answered with her usual monologue. Before she could finish, Susan cut her off. “Is Larry there?”
“Susan?”
Sitting on the futon in her own apartment, Susan twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “Who else? I need to talk to Larry.”
She needed to, all right. Wanting to was another matter entirely. She might not have only fucked up Archways’ relationship with Ray Stemple a couple of hours ago. She might have lost her job. As angry as Peter had become with her, he might have told her boss anything. After all, he was the guy who’d fired the management of his father’s former employer, even though they, personally, hadn’t done anything to him. Who knew what he’d do with an upstart of a young lady who’d had the audacity to tell him to go to hell…very loudly and in a public place?
“Susan.” Larry came on the line. He didn’t sound upset. He sounded his usual salesman happy-to-see-you self. “Are you at Hawthorn House?”
“No, actually. I’m at home.”
Larry paused long enough to consult his watch or a clock. “At this time of day?”
“I, uh, had a project I really needed to work on, and my stuff was here.” Lie, lie, lie. Her only project was to figure out a way to get through the next days and weeks until the emptiness in her chest went away. To think a few hours ago her plans had included a dinner at one of the city’s best restaurants to talk about a future with Peter Breit.
“I finished with Sir Peter this afternoon.” Major understatement there.
“Yeah,” he said.
Her heart sank into the vicinity of her stomach. “Did he mention…that is…was he—”
“His assistant arrived from England. He thanked me for loaning you to him.” Larry chuckled. “I
told him you enjoyed working for him.”
Shit. Larry had actually said that? Peter would know he was lying. Oh well, nothing to do about that now.
“You did a great job, kid. He’s a demanding guy to work for,” Larry said.
Didn’t she just know that?
“So, there’s going to be a bonus in this for you,” Larry said.
“Thanks, Larry.”
“See you Monday morning?” he asked.
“Sure.” He ended the call.
She sat and stared at her phone. Well, she still had a job. Peter hadn’t been angry enough to tell Larry the truth—that she’d screwed up royally. Perhaps worst of all, she’d messed over her own heart. She was not going to get over Peter Breit quickly.
* * *
The folks at Archways had taken the news in better stride than Susan had expected, especially because she’d had to include the little morsel that she’d nearly cursed out the director of planning to his face. Now a week later, they sat in a strategy session. Where to go from here? While Janice went to the front office to take a phone call, Ty quietly took the drawings of the cannery project down from their easels and set them with their faces against the wall.
As director of Archways, Ty Harrison had been a driving force in the city for affordable housing for over three decades. San Francisco was becoming more and more gentrified, forcing longtime residents to find places elsewhere to live. Ty’s organization was fighting back, and her project would have been their star achievement. The fact that she’d sunk it made her stomach cramp.
Ty pushed back the sweep of white hair that was his trademark and resumed his seat behind his desk, leaning forward on his elbows. Though over sixty, he had more energy than all of his young staff put together. And more optimism.
“There are other plots of land, Susan,” he said. “We pick up and start again.”
“I know. I just feel awful,” she said.
“It’s not your fault,” Bob McIntyre said from where he sat on the worn couch across the room. “Stemple had already given the land away before you went in there.”
“Still, maybe I could have done something to change his mind,” she said. “Instead I blew my top.”
“How could you help it?” Bob said. “The man’s an asshole.”
“Of course you feel bad,” Ty said. “You worked very hard on the project.”
“We all did,” she said.
“You did, Susan,” Ty said. “Most of the work was yours.”
Yeah. She’d done the majority of the drawings Ty had just set aside. She’d pictured every little detail of what the community…her community…would look like. It had been such a beautiful dream.
“In this business, you have to learn to roll with the punches,” Ty said. “We’ll adapt. Make some changes to what you’ve already done and live to fight another day.”
“Your designs are fabulous,” Bob said. “You’re going to make one hell of an architect.”
“Bob’s right,” Ty added.
Just another reason she loved this outfit so much. They didn’t look at her and see young, blonde female. They saw her work and judged it on its merit. Not a single man here had ever come on to her. When they gave a compliment, they meant it sincerely, not as a way to get her into bed.
Unlike a certain German billionaire with an English accent she could name. Or maybe she’d seduced Peter. Had the seduction been mutual? It certainly had felt right at the time.
“So now we have designs and no land to build them on,” Ty said.
“And no financing for the mortgages, either,” Bob said. “We probably weren’t ready to build anyway.”
“Really?” she asked. “No one’s cooperating?”
“Bankers.” Bob shrugged. “Only place with more assholes than city government is banks.”
Janice came back into the office suddenly, her face flushed with what looked like excitement. “You won’t believe who I just spoke to on the phone.”
Bob straightened in his seat. “Simon Cowel. He’s going to make you a star.”
Janice waved a hand at him. “Get serious.”
“Tell us before you burst,” Ty said.
“Ray Stemple, his own self,” Janice said. “He wants us to send a delegation to his office to discuss future community planning projects.”
Susan blinked. “He does?”
“Must be he enjoys getting almost cursed out,” Bob said.
“Well done, Susan. Whatever you did worked,” Ty said.
Could this really be happening? It didn’t make any sense. Nothing about her had impressed Stemple, but her bustline. Could he suddenly have had a change of heart? No matter how this had come about, it qualified as a big step forward for Archways. It didn’t revive the cannery community, but it promised a brighter reception for future projects. If she’d had any part in this, she could stop feeling like a first-class moron.
“This calls for a round of cappuccinos,” Ty declared. “On me.”
They all rose, and Ty clapped an arm on Bob’s and Susan’s shoulders. They followed Janice in a procession of sorts to the front of the building and out onto the street. Though the days were shortening, San Francisco was actually in its hottest month, September. Most of the tourists had shivered and gone home weeks before, and they had the sidewalk largely to themselves. That was, until Susan spotted a familiar figure standing next to an unusual car.
The Dynamik had gathered a clutch of admirers, most of them ignoring the man standing next to it, despite his tall stature and good looks. The sight stopped Susan in her tracks. The minute he spotted her, he left the car behind and headed in her direction.
“Someone you know?” Janice asked.
“Sort of.”
“Do you know him well enough to introduce him to me?” Janice said out of the corner of her mouth.
Susan glared at her.
Janice raised her arms in surrender. “Touchy.”
“Let’s get our coffee and leave Susan alone with her friend.” Ty led the others away. Susan should have followed, but someone seemed to have nailed her shoes to the pavement. She couldn’t make her feet move.
Peter stopped a couple of feet away from her, and gazed down at her out of eyes that in this light held a bit of blue in them. “Are you ready to talk now?”
Somehow in their days apart, she’d forgotten exactly how sensuous his accent was. Silken tones in her ears. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
“Did you come here looking for me?” she asked when she could get air into her lungs again.
“I don’t have any other business in the Mission.”
“Oh.” Surely a graduate of UC Berkeley could say something smarter than that. But the fact that he’d driven his hugely expensive car to the Mission and had just walked away from it to confront her boggled the mind more than a little.
“Shall we go back to the condo or drive around for a while?” he said.
“Drive, I think.”
He made a regal gesture in the direction of the Dynamik. They had to disperse a small crowd to get to the car, but eventually, they’d climbed inside and buckled up. Peter started the engine and headed off in some direction or other. Susan didn’t pay much attention to anything other than the sight of him.
“I’m sorry I became testy the other day,” he said.
“Don’t be. I was pretty mad myself.”
“I don’t apologize very often,” he said, his eyes on the road in front of them. “You might as well sit back and enjoy it.”
She couldn’t help but smile, at least a little bit. Testy didn’t begin to describe how he’d looked. Furious came a whole lot closer. But then, she’d been seeing red too. It had been a ghastly experience, followed by fear of losing her job and knowledge that she’d harmed Archways.
“You have to understand there are a lot of people out there who want me for my money, a large number of them women,” he went on.
“I’m not that way.”
“I realized t
hat later,” he said. “But for the moment, you sounded like it.”
He’d apologized, and the time had come for her to do the same. He hadn’t deliberately set out to ruin her project. He hadn’t even known she needed that plot of land.
“I was asking too much,” she said. “I’m sorry too.”
This time, he smiled. Not much, no more than a curve of his lip, but it was enough to remind her what those lips felt like and how they tasted.
“So what are we going to do about a plot of land for Archways?”
“I didn’t have a chance to mention it.” She touched him on the shoulder for no other reason than it felt so good. “Stemple called. He wants us to meet with him.”
“He took my advice, then.”
“You?” She twisted in her seat so quickly the belt cut into her shoulder.
“I suggested most strenuously that if the bastard wanted more of my business he ought to read your proposals.”
“You did that for me after all the shit I gave you?”
“Why not? It didn’t cost me anything,” he said. “And I do have a heart. My mother and I could have used one of your houses after my father died.”
“Oh, Peter,” she said. “If you weren’t driving, I’d kiss you.”
His smile grew broader, but he kept his gaze on the traffic in front of him. “I won’t be driving for the entire afternoon.”
Which meant they would be kissing, and soon. A rush of excitement made her heart skip and do a little stutter step. They’d better end up somewhere private, or things would get pretty embarrassing.
“Seriously, Peter. Thank you.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Consider it my way of apologizing for taking your parcel of land, even inadvertently.”
“Unnecessary apology accepted.”
“Then let me make you a business proposition.” He pulled over to the curb, and Susan suddenly realized they’d entered Golden Gate Park…and that they were occupying a bus stop.
“You can’t park here,” she said.
“We’ll move if a bus comes along.” He unbuckled his safety belt and turned to her, resting his arm on the back of her seat. “I understand your new homeowners will need mortgages.”
