by Shirley Jump
Ellie gave her team a smile, and waited until everyone had left the room before she let the stress and worry consume her. She doodled across the pad in front of her. It was a good thirty seconds before she realized she hadn’t sketched a flower or a box or a stick figure. She’d written a name.
And maybe…an answer. The only problem was right now, this was more of a win for Finn, who would reap the benefits of a partnership, the prestige of the project and a cut of the profits, than for Ellie, who risked looking like a company that couldn’t do the job and had to call in outsiders.
She tapped her pencil on the pad. There had to be something Finn could give her that would make a partnership worth the risk of an alliance with the predatory Hawk. It would have to be something big, she mused.
Very big.
* * *
Finn sat at his massive mahogany desk, the same one he had bought ten years ago at a garage sale, refinished by hand then installed on his first day at McKenna Designs. Back then, he’d had an office not much bigger than the desk, but as he’d moved up, the desk had moved with him. Now it sat in the center of his office, his headquarters for watching the world go by eleven stories below him. Friday morning had dawned bright and beautiful, with a spring sun determined to coax the flowers from their leaf cocoons. It was the kind of spring day that tempted people to call in sick and spend the day by the Charles River, picnicking and boating and jogging on the Esplanade. The kind of day that drew everyone out of their winter huddles, spilling into the parks and onto the sidewalks, like newly released prisoners.
But not Finn. He had called an early meeting this morning, and had been snowed under with work every second since then. Sometimes he felt like he was just plugging holes in a leaky water bucket. They’d lost another client today, a corporation that said they’d “lost confidence” in McKenna Designs after hearing of the defection of two other major clients. Apparently Lucy’s betrayal was still hitting his bottom line, even more than a year later. He sighed.
He’d turn this company around, one way or another. He’d hoped that Ellie Winston would hear his offer and jump at the opportunity for some help. She was out of her league on the Piedmont project, and definitely didn’t have anyone on her staff who could handle something of that magnitude. When he’d considered his offer, he’d seen it only as a win-win for her. Yet still she’d said no.
It was a rare defeat to a man who had won nearly everything he put his mind to. The refusal had left him surprised, but not for long. He would regroup, and find another way to convince Ellie that his proposal was in her best interests.
Could she be thinking of hiring someone else? He hadn’t heard rumors of anyone considering a job at WW, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a prospective candidate. Finn had always prided himself on having an ear to the ground in Boston’s busy and competitive architecture world, but that didn’t mean he knew everything.
“Knock, knock. Time for lunch.”
Finn glanced up and saw his brother standing in the doorway, grinning like a fool. Every time he saw Riley, his brother looked as happy as a loon. Probably because he didn’t have a care in the world. Or maybe because things had gone better for Riley with women last night than they had for Finn. “Sorry. Maybe another time. I have a ton of work to do.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Riley waved that off. “And last I checked you were human…”
Finn dropped his gaze to his hands, his feet, then back up to Riley. “It appears so.”
“And that means you need to eat on a regular basis. So come on.” Riley waved at him. “Hey, I’ll even treat.”
Finn chuckled. “Considering that’s almost a miracle in the making—”
“Hey.” Riley grinned. “I resemble that remark.”
“You’re the poster child for it.” Finn shook his head. Then his stomach rumbled and overruled his work resolve. “All right. You win. But let’s make it a quick lunch.”
“You know me. I’m always ready to get my nose back to the grindstone. Or rather, ready to get your nose back to your grindstone, and mine back to lazy living.” Riley laughed at his joke, then walked with Finn down the hall to the elevator. “You know it wouldn’t hurt you to take a day off once in a while. Maybe even enough time off to have a date or ten.”
The doors opened with a soft ding sound and Finn stepped inside, followed by Riley. “We’ve had this argument before. Last night if I remember right.”
“Yep. And we’re going to keep having it until you admit I’m right and you’re lonely.”
“I’m fine.” Finn punched the button for the lobby.
“You tell yourself that enough and you might even start to believe it someday, big brother.”
Finn ignored the jab. “So how’s the waitress?”
“I don’t know.” Riley shrugged. “I ended up leaving with the brunette.”
Finn rolled his eyes.
Riley grinned. “What can I say? The world is filled with beautiful women. Like the one you were supposed to talk to last night. How’d that go?”
“It didn’t go quite the way I expected.” Had he come on too strong? Too weak? He found himself wondering what she was doing right now. Was Ellie having lunch at her desk? With a friend? Or alone in a restaurant?
She’d been on his mind almost every minute since she’d walked out of the diner. That alone was a clear sign he needed to work more and think less. He wasn’t interested in Ellie Winston on a personal basis, even if his hormones were mounting a vocal disagreement.
“What, you struck out? Didn’t get her phone number?” Riley asked.
“Her office number is in the yellow pages. I didn’t need to ask for that.”
Riley shook his head. “And the Hawk strikes again. Always business with you.”
The elevator doors shimmied open. Finn and Riley crossed the lobby and exited onto Beacon Street. In the distance, rowers skimmed their sculls down the rippling blue river.
The Hawk strikes again.
Maybe it was the too sunny weather or maybe it was the rejection last night, but Finn found himself bothered by that phrase. He’d never much liked the moniker, but he’d always thought that he, of all people, combined humanity with business. He had never seen himself as quite the cold fish the media depicted.
His brother didn’t understand what drove Finn. What kept him at that desk every day. What monumental weights sat on his shoulder, even as he tried to shed them. The one time he’d tried to live a “normal” life, he’d been burned. Badly. More than enough reason not to make that mistake again.
A slight breeze danced across the Charles River, tempering the heat of the day with a touch of cool. They walked for a while, navigating the rush of lunchgoers, heading for the same place they always went, in unspoken agreement. That was one good thing about lunch with Riley—the kind of common mind that came from being siblings. Even though he and Riley were as different as apples and oranges, Finn had always had a closer relationship with him than with Brody. Maybe because Riley was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and the one who—though he kidded often—understood Finn the best. Even if their minds often moved on opposite tracks.
They reached the shadowed entrance to McGill’s. Finn paused before tugging on the door. “Do you ever wonder…”
Riley glanced at his brother. “Wonder what?”
“Nothing.” Finn opened the door and stepped into the air-conditioned interior. The last person he needed to ask for personal—and definitely business—advice was his brother. Riley’s standard answer—get a girl, get a room and get busy.
He wanted to ask Riley how his little brother could give his heart so freely. And whether doing so was worth the cost at the end when his heart was broken. He’d seen how much it hurt when the one you were supposed to love no longer felt the same. He had watched that pain erode the happiness in his mother�
�s face day by day. As the youngest, Riley had missed those subtle cues.
Finn shrugged off the thoughts. It had to be the spring weather—and the overabundance of lovey-dovey couples out enjoying the sunshine—that had him feeling so maudlin. He liked his life just the way it was. He didn’t need anything more than that.
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim room, and to take in the space. McGill’s had a warm interior—dark, rough-hewn plank walls, sturdy, practical tables and chairs and a worn oak floor that had been distressed by thousands of customers’ shoes. The food was hearty and good—thick sandwiches, hand-cut fries, stout beer. Finn and Riley came here often, and were waved over to the table area by Steve McGill himself, who was working the bar this afternoon.
Finn waved off the waiter’s offer of beer, opting for water instead. “The usual, Marty.”
Marty MacDonald had been there for as long as Finn could remember. He had to be nearing seventy, but he moved twice as fast, and had twice the memory of the younger waiters at McGill’s. Marty nodded, then turned to Riley. “For you?”
“I’ll have my beer, and his. No sense in wasting it.” Riley grinned. “And a corned beef sandwich on rye.”
Marty chuckled. “In other words, the usual?”
“You know me well, Marty.” Riley waited until their server had left, then turned back to Finn. “So what do you think went wrong with the grand plan last night?”
Finn’s phone rang. He signaled to Riley to wait a second, then answered the call. “Finn McKenna.”
“I wanted to update you on the Langham project,” Noel, one of Finn’s architects, said. “I heard that Park came in twenty percent lower than us. The client said they’re going to go with him instead. Sorry we lost the job, Finn.”
Joe Park, a newcomer to Boston’s crowded architectural playing field, and someone who often underbid just to get the work. Finn suspected it was the cost savings, and some residual damage to McKenna’s reputation that had spurred the client’s defection. Finn refused to let another client go.
“No, they won’t,” he said. “Let me give Langham a call. In five minutes he’ll see the wisdom of sticking with us.” Finn hung up with Noel, then called the client. In a matter of minutes, he had convinced the penny pinching CEO that working with the established McKenna Designs was a far smarter choice than a rookie newbie. He soothed the worried waters with Langham, and assured him that McKenna Designs would be on top of the project from start to finish. He didn’t say anything outright bad about his competitor, but the implication was clear—work with the unproven Park, and the work would be substandard.
After Finn finished the call and put away the phone, Riley shot him a grin. “I’m glad I’m not one of your competitors.”
“It’s business, Riley.”
“That’s not business, that’s guerilla warfare.” Riley shook his head. “Tell me you didn’t treat that gorgeous lady the same way?”
“No, in fact quite the opposite. I think I might have been too nice.”
Riley snorted.
“She turned me down. But I’m going to regroup, find another way.” Finn reached into the breast pocket of his suit. “I’ve got a list of pros and cons I’m going to present to her—”
Riley pushed Finn’s hand away. “For a smart guy, you can be a complete idiot sometimes.”
“This is logical, sound reasoning. Any smart businessperson would—”
“I’m sure you’re right. And if you have a month or three to go back and forth on pros and cons and heretofores and whatevers, I’d agree with you.” Riley leaned in closer. “But you don’t have that kind of time.”
Apparently Riley had been listening to Finn’s worries over the past year. Finn was impressed with his little brother’s intuitiveness. Maybe he didn’t give Riley enough credit. “True.”
“So that means you need to change your tactics.”
Finn had an argument ready, but he bit it back. Riley had a point. Negotiations took time, and that was pretty much what his list was. He was an expert when it came to the art of the business deal, but this was different—and he’d struck out with Ellie Winston in a big way. He needed a new idea, and right now, he’d take ideas from about anyone and anywhere. “Okay. How?”
Riley grinned and sat back. “Easy. Do what I do.”
“I am not sleeping with her just to get what I want.” Finn scowled. “You have a one-track mind.”
Riley pressed a hand to his heart. “Finn, you wound me. I would never suggest that. Well, I might, but not in your case.” Riley paused. “Especially not in your case.”
“Hey.”
“You are way too uptight and practical to do such a thing.”
“For good reason.” Nearly every move in his life was well planned, thought out and executed with precision. Even his relationship with his ex had been like that. He’d chosen a partner who was a peer, someone with common interests, in the right age range and with the kind of quiet understated personality that seemed to best suit his own.
It had seemed to be the wisest choice all around. The kind that wouldn’t leave him—or her—unhappy in the end. He’d been stunned when she’d broken up with him and worse, maligned his business and revealed she’d only gone out with him to get information.
But had that been real love? If he could so easily be over the relationship, at least emotionally? Was real love methodical, planned?
Or a wild, heady rush?
The image of Ellie in that figure-hugging maroon dress, her head thrown back in laughter, her eyes dancing with merriment, sent a blast of heat through him. He suspected she was the kind of woman who could get a man to forget a lot more than just his business agenda. For just a second, that empty feeling in his chest lifted. Damn, he really needed to eat more or sleep more or something. He was nearly a blubbering emotional idiot today.
Wild heady rushes didn’t mix with business. Wild heady rushes led to heartache down the road. Wild heady rushes were the exact opposite of Finn McKenna.
“The secret to getting what you want, especially from a woman, is very simple,” Riley said.
“Flowers and wine?”
Riley laughed. “That always helps, but no, that’s not what I meant.”
Marty dropped off their drinks, so quietly they barely noticed his presence. Marty knew them well, and knew when he could interrupt and when to just slip in and out like a cat in the night.
“You find out what the other party wants most in the world,” Riley said, “then give it to them.”
“That’s what my list—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Finn. Women aren’t into lists and pros and cons. Hell, who is?” Then he paused. “Okay, maybe you. But not the rest of the world. Most people are driven by three needs.” He flipped out his fingers and ticked them off as he spoke. “Money, love and sex.”
Finn chuckled and shook his head. Riley’s advice made sense, in a twisted way. Hadn’t Finn done the same thing in business a hundred times? Find out what the other party wants and offer it, albeit with conditions that benefited both sides. “Let me guess. You’re driven by number three.”
“Maybe.” Riley grinned. “One of the three is what drives that pretty little blonde you met with last night. Figure out what it is she wants and give it to her.”
“Simple as that?”
Riley sat back and took a sip from his beer. “Simple as that.”
* * *
The room closed in on her, suddenly too hot, too close. Ellie stared at the woman across from her, letting the words echo in her mind. For a long time, they didn’t make sense. It was all a muddled hum of sounds, rattling around in her brain. Then the sounds coalesced one syllable at a time, into a painful reality.
“Are you sure?” Ellie asked. She had walked into this office on a bright Monday mo
rning and now it seemed in the space of seconds, the day had gone dark.
Linda Simpson nodded. “I’m so sorry, Ellie.”
She’d know Linda for months, and in that time, Linda had become Ellie’s biggest supporter as well as a friend. All these weeks, the news had been positive.
Operative words—had been.
Ellie pressed a hand to her belly, and thought of all she had given up to be a woman in a male-dominated field. Relationships…children. Children that now she knew would never happen naturally. Adoption, the obstetrical specialist had told her, was the only option.
Maybe it was her father’s illness, or the approach of her thirtieth birthday, but lately, she’d been thinking more and more about the…quiet of her life. For years, she’d been happy living alone, making her own hours, traveling where she wanted. But in the last year or two, there’d been no louder, sadder sound than the echo of her footsteps on tile. She had no one but her father, and if the doctors were right, soon she wouldn’t even have him.
And what would she have to show for it? A few dozen houses she’d designed? Houses where other people lived and laughed and raised children and shooed dogs out of the kitchen. Houses containing the very dreams Ellie had pushed to the side.
But no more. Jiao was waiting for her, now stuck in a limbo of red tape at an orphanage in China. Jiao, an energetic two-year-old little girl with wide eyes and dark hair, and a toothy smile. Everything Ellie had dreamed of was right there, within her grasp.
Or had been, until now.
Had Ellie heard wrong? But one look at Linda Simpson’s face, lined with sympathy and regret, told Ellie this was no joke. The adoption coordinator sat behind her desk, her dark brown hair piled into a messy bun, her eyes brimming with sorrow.
“I need…” Ellie swallowed, tried again. “A husband?”
“That’s what they told me this morning. Countries all over the world are tightening their adoption policies. The orphanage is sticking to the government’s bottom line. I’m sorry.”
A spouse.
Ellie bit back a sigh. Maybe it was time to pursue another adoption, in a more lenient country. But then she thought of Jiao’s round, cherubic face, the laughter that had seemed to fill the room whenever Ellie had played with her, and knew there was nothing she wanted more than to bring that little girl home. She had promised Sun, and Jiao.
