“Wow.” This was all that Kate could manage. She’d heard of rich people being private about charity before, but the notorious playboy image of Michael she had in her head was quite a disconnect from the philanthropic picture Julia was describing.
“He needs to come to terms with reality. People rarely do anything unless they’re going to get something out of it. We need help from others, and so we need to play the game, give them a tax write-off or public recognition—whatever it takes to get more support.” Julia’s hand slipped to her chest as she reached for the chain she was wearing beneath her silk blouse.
Kate caught sight of what appeared to be a military ID tag as Julia rubbed her hand over the small, silver object. She took a moment to think, and smiled. “When do we start?”
Julia’s face lit with excitement. “Now.”
Kate rubbed her hand over her cheek as her thoughts drifted to Julia’s brother. Would she really be able to do this?
“Come on. Let’s get some coffee. We can brainstorm some ideas and make a plan that’ll win Michael over.”
Kate nodded but was unsure whether another dose of caffeine would be good for her nerves. Somehow she’d have to perform two miracles. Make Michael attend his own event . . . and not turn into a complete idiot when she was in his presence.
*
Michael slowed the treadmill down to a steady pace, staring out the gym window that overlooked the hotspot Whiskey River. People rushed to work, attired in fashionable business wear. He’d been donning a suit for almost five years, and he hated the damned thing. Wearing heavy combat gear in an Iraqi summer was more comfortable than a tie around his neck.
“Maddox, at the gym so late?”
Michael averted his attention to James as he stepped onto the neighboring treadmill.
“I thought you got your workouts done at, like, six in the morning.” James looked down at his Rolex and back at Michael. “It’s near nine.” He smirked and powered on the machine, increasing the speed.
“Late night,” Michael responded before stopping the treadmill and stepping off. Although not as late as he would have liked—the blonde at the bar had gotten away without even giving her name.
“What’s your excuse, man?” Michael reached for his phone and glanced at the screen. Fifteen missed calls.
“You know I play hard every night. Can’t make it to the office before ten. But hey, it’s one of the perks of being your own boss.” He flashed Michael a smile and began running.
Michael hated the guy. He was an arrogant prick, much like many of the guys he had to deal with on a regular basis.
“Later,” Michael said after wiping down the treadmill, and then he went to the locker room to wash off.
He showered in a hurry and dressed. He tamed his semi-wavy hair with a little gel and parted it to the side. He pulled his laptop case and black blazer from his locker before exiting the room.
“Michael.”
He glanced over at the brunette who was approaching him. “Hi, Lana. How are you?” he asked, annoyance tingeing his voice.
She tapped his muscular arm with her fist. “I’ve missed you, stranger. Haven’t seen you at the club.”
“I was there last night, but I didn’t stay long.” He gave her a polite smile.
She pulled on her long braid and stepped closer to him. “Maybe we can get together again? I had fun last time.” She looked up at him from beneath long, black eyelashes.
He studied her for a moment, wondering why some girls wore makeup to the gym and little else. “I have to get to a meeting,” he lied. “See ya around,” he said, his back already turned to her.
Outside the door, he shook his head, relieved to be free.
Once at the office, he greeted the doorman and headed up the elevator.
“Good morning, Michael. Late today, I see,” his receptionist remarked before rolling her tongue over her top teeth.
“Late night and a little too much time at the gym this morning.”
“Well, have a good day.” She leaned forward, attempting to show off her plunging neckline. When would Cindy realize he wasn’t interested? He had a strict no fraternization workplace rule. Besides, he had a feeling she’d become the clingy type, and that was the opposite of what he wanted or needed.
“Yeah, thanks. You too.”
As he walked back to his office, he noticed his sisters was empty.
Unlike his sisters’ office, he didn’t have glass walls. He preferred his privacy. He sat behind his large walnut desk and loosened his tie. The tie didn’t usually make it past noon.
Before he had a chance to get situated, his office phone began ringing.
It was Cindy.
“I forgot to tell you when you came in, but you asked me to give you a heads up the next time Julia invited another event planner here.”
“And one’s here?”
“Yup.”
“Where is she?” Michael’s quads tightened as tension darted through him. He wasn’t in the mood to fire someone again. When would his sister finally get the message?
“I, uh—I don’t know. Sorry. She and Julia left ten minutes ago.”
“Okay. Thanks. Could you let me know as soon as they return?”
“Of course.”
Michael ended the call and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Julia,” he muttered under his breath. “What have you cooked up for me this time?”
CHAPTER THREE
“LET’S CUT TO THE CHASE. There’s not going to be an event. So, no event planner needed.”
Kate folded her arms and eyed Julia’s phone, which had rung the second they entered the office. Julia had put her brother on speakerphone so Kate could hear. “How did he even know I was here?” she mouthed to Julia.
“Would you just come down to my office so we can talk in person?” Julia pleaded.
Kate grimaced as her stomach muscles clenched. Don’t do that.
“I’m not wasting time on this,” Michael bit out. “No fundraisers.”
“Kate’s different. You’ll like her. Please, hear us out.”
“She’s an event planner, so no—I won’t like her.”
Kate stared at the phone, annoyance ripping through her, peeling back the nerves until only her confidence was left. “Actually, I’m a business owner, much like yourself, Mr. Maddox, and I do a lot more than plan events.”
Julia smirked. “Michael?”
“Dammit, Julia. Take me off speakerphone. The poor girl doesn’t need to hear this.”
Poor girl? “Mr. Maddox, I run a very lucrative company in both New York and Boston,” she explained, trying to keep her voice calm and polite. “I have an MBA from Harvard. I am by no means a ‘poor girl,’ and I’m certain that I can handle whatever you dish out.”
The line went dead.
“Well, he’ll never be able to fire you now.”
Kate smiled, although now that her anger had receded a fearful nausea was taking its place. “I think he already did fire me. He hung up.”
Julia moved her hand in front of her face as if she were swiping a fly. “Sure, but that’s only because he’s on his way here right now.”
Kate’s stomach lurched. Battling on the phone was one thing, but did she have the backbone to face him in person? After all, in his presence last night she’d become a puddle. Any longer and the bartenders would have had to mop her off the floor.
Michael pushed open the glass door of his sister’s office and stopped in his tracks when Kate turned toward him. He shut his eyes for a second, but even when he opened them, they betrayed the slightest hint of astonishment.
Kate smoothed a hand over her dress as she approached him, and his eyes captured hers, making her a little dizzy. Insecurity crept inside of her again. “Hi, I’m Kate Adams of Marissa Adams Events,” she said, her voice trembling as she extended her hand. “My stepmother is Marissa Adams.”
He remained in front of the door. With his sleeves, rolled to the elbow
s, exposing his strong forearms, it took her a moment to pull her gaze away from the ripple of flesh.
Michael finally reached for her hand. “Hi.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you on the phone.”
She released his hand and took a step back. He somehow made her feel like she might lose her balance. Her pulse ticked at a high speed as she watched his eyes drift down her body. There was no way she could go head-to-head with this man. His chiseled features, well-sculpted nose—hell, his perfect face, who could deny it?—were like kryptonite to her. How could she stand up to him when she was short of breath?
“Maybe we could sit down and talk?” Kate suggested—because there was no way she could remain upright much longer.
Michael glanced at his sister and tipped his head in the direction of the nearby table, a silent way of agreeing to talk.
Kate waited for Julia to sit before taking her previous chair. She crossed her legs but took in a short breath when she realized his eyes were lingering a bit longer than necessary on her calf muscles.
“Listen, Kate, I’m sure my sister has explained to you my hesitations about having a fundraiser, and my opinion on the matter has not and will not change.” He walked closer to the table where his sister and Kate sat, but he remained standing and crossed his arms. He arched his shoulders back and stared down at them.
A power play. Her mind was spinning. The sexy tone of his voice rendered her speechless—again. She shifted in her seat and tried not to look at his strong, clenched jaw, which read: uncompromising. After a calming breath, she folded her hands in her lap and studied him for a moment. His blue eyes pierced through her.
“Mr. Maddox, I . . . I think that . . .” Get the words out. “I think that you will totally hate my idea.”
Julia looked over at Kate with a what-are-you-doing? expression. At no time during their morning chat had Kate mentioned she’d be throwing those words at Michael.
“But it’ll work well to raise awareness for your veteran business initiative. It will go against everything you believe in and stand for, and you’ll detest my idea . . . but it’s not about what you want, is it?” She forced herself to remain calm as she stood up, wanting to be on a more even playing field with him. Of course, he still towered over her, but she felt a little better, anyway.
“Go on.” The soft tone of his voice surprised her, but also filled her with hope.
Kate peeked at Julia. Relief filled her as Julia’s look of concern disappeared from the smooth lines of her face. Julia nodded and returned her attention back to Michael. “When you got out of the Marines you became an overnight success story. You created and engineered ideas to better improve the intelligence systems that our military use, and you built a company around those ideas.” She bit her lip before continuing, trying to maintain power over her nerves. “You sold your company and are reaping the benefits.” For three hundred million dollars, she thought. “But a lot of those who exit the military are not you. They’re not as lucky. But instead of hoarding your money away like many rich men in this country, you’re focused on using it to help fellow veterans.” She paused to catch her breath.
“But you know this. The thing is, despite everything you do, it’s still not enough. You’re only one man. Imagine what ten men like you could do. Or a hundred. Why go it alone?” She clasped her hands together, not exactly sure what to do with them.
Michael was staring at her, hands in pockets, lips sealed.
“My kid brother joined the military as soon as he turned eighteen. I worry about him every day. This is personal for me. In fact, caring for our military men and women should be personal for everyone.” Worrying about her brother had become about as normal as brushing her teeth. It was never ending. And she knew she’d always stress as long as he was putting his life on the line.
“What do you want to do?” he asked in a tone that registered defeat.
Kate’s smile revealed small dimples, which softened her high cheekbones.
Julia rose to her feet. “I’m going to leave you two alone to work out the details. I have a call to make, but I trust Kate can take the lead on this. I’ll just go and use your office, Michael.” Before Michael or Kate could refuse, she hurried out of the room.
Michael looked away from the door as it swung shut, and turned back to Kate, who was reaching for her tablet.
She pushed her long, golden blonde hair off her shoulders and onto her back, wishing that she could concentrate. She opened an app that housed her notes, trying to ignore the way her hairs stood on end knowing he was behind her.
“Did you tell Julia that we’ve already met?”
Startled, Kate slowly turned toward him. “I’m so sorry about your shirt. You should let me pay for it.”
“Did you know who I was last night?” he asked with a deep voice.
She swept a hand to the nape of her neck. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” His eyes narrowed on her, and he took a step closer.
“I . . .” Could she tell him she had been completely tongue-tied by meeting him in person? “Honestly, I didn’t think you would remember me, and then I was in a hurry, so I kind of rushed out when your friend showed up.” Her poker face was failing her.
“You thought I would forget you?”
His words sent shivers dancing up her spine, and she could have sworn she had a heart palpitation. She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip.
“If we’re going to work together, I would strongly suggest you not do that,” he murmured, staring at her mouth as his smoldering blue eyes turned a shade darker.
She allowed his words to hang in the air for a moment, free of gravity, as she contemplated the appropriate response.
Was he attracted to her, or was it a game he was playing to unnerve her? She decided to ignore his comment and maintain professionalism. “Mr. Maddox, how would you feel about an auction?”
“Please, call me Michael.” He stepped away from her and walked over to make himself a cup of coffee from the single-serving brewer. “Want one?”
“No, but thank you.”
He turned toward her after a moment, holding his coffee in one hand and placing his other in his pants pocket. He looked out the wall of windows. “An auction might be a good idea, but how will we get enough items for the auction in a week?”
Kate turned away from him and bent down to reach into her bag. “I’m sure you have a few things you could auction, and I have some connections. I’ll make some calls.” Her cheeks reddened when she caught his eyes focused in the direction of her ass. She exhaled and attempted to concentrate. “Open to page forty-nine,” she instructed, tossing a magazine in his direction.
He cocked his head at her and raised his brows.
She mentally berated herself as she watched Michael open the magazine after setting his—thank God—full cup of coffee down on Julia’s desk.
“Why do you have this?” His tan face darkened a touch as he looked down at the article, which proclaimed him sexiest businessman in Manhattan. He shook his head and chucked the magazine on the desk.
“I do my research on clients. I need to know their likes and dislikes.”
“You clearly know my dislikes well enough to throw them in my face. Literally.” He was growing edgy. She was losing him.
“Here’s the part of my plan that you’ll hate.” She drew in a nervous breath and closed the distance between the two of them until she was standing a few feet away. “I think you could earn top dollar . . . and ensure a hundred percent attendance, maybe even increase the number of invites.”
“And how would we go about that?”
“I’m talking about auctioning a date with you. People would come to see the elusive Michael Maddox put himself up for auction, and women would pay.” Stay confident. “I know this sounds crazy, but you have to think about the purpose—the long-term goal. Think of the money this could bring to your cause,” she implored, looking up at him as he stared bac
k at her, his face unreadable. She watched as he reached for his coffee, his white shirt straining over the pull of his taut muscles.
“You’re right, it does sound crazy. Next idea.” His jaw was firm, his face resolute. He took a seat behind his sister’s desk, set the coffee in front of him, and rubbed his temples.
She stepped in front of the desk and crossed her arms. “Remember, this is for the veterans. Can you please swallow your pride for one night?” At that moment, gone was the timid woman she had been last night. Gone were her checklists and schedules. She was standing her ground and, even if he was about to toss her out, it felt good.
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and clasped his hands on the desk. “If you did your research, you would know that I’m a private guy.”
Without thinking, she replied, “If you’re so private, then why do you get into relationships with models?” Of course, maybe the magazines had him wrong.
He stood back up and walked with slow movements before stopping a foot shy of her. “I don’t do relationships, Miss Adams,” he said while angling his head and narrowing his eyes at her.
A flash of heat shot through her and straight to her groin. So, the tabloids are right. Maybe she needed to rethink her doubts about Roswell and Area 51, in that case.
“I’m not asking you to marry someone. Just go on one date. One dinner.” She found herself walking back toward the table where she had stacked her belongings. Maybe she should go. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to work with him, after all. But what about Julia? What about her own business that could flourish tenfold with the Maddox’s as clients?
No, she had to convince him.
“Mr. Maddox—Michael—I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be pushy. I know this is a strange request for a man of your, um, stature, but I’m certain it will be the best way to maximize attendance while simultaneously increasing the money raised for your business venture.” She bit her lip and waited for a response.
The Safe Bet Page 2
