"I can see why Billie is worried."
Puzzled, Noah frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"Andi's mother and I don't agree on many things." Sterling sat, crossing his legs as he lit a pipe. "When Billie called to tell me our daughter was involved with someone completely unsuitable, I assumed she exaggerated, as she tends to do. After meeting you, I see, for once, my ex-wife was right."
Noah's first instinct was to tell Sterling to go to hell. Then, he remembered Andi. She acted as though her father's opinion didn't matter. But he knew her life would be easier if the two most important men in her life found a way to get along.
Sterling threw down the gauntlet. For Andi's sake, Noah didn't pick it up.
"I love your daughter, Mr. Anderson. Nothing matters more to me than her happiness."
"Her money means nothing to you?"
"No." One word was all he trusted himself with. His temper on the rise, Noah took a deep breath.
"Of course." Sterling didn't look convinced. "Find a kind way to break off the relationship. Andi will get over you soon enough. As for you, I'll make certain you're compensated for your loss of potential income."
"You think all a man wants from Andi is her money?"
"A certain kind of man, yes." Sterling looked down his nose, his expression imperious. "You have nothing to give my daughter except a strong body and years of regret."
So much for playing the nice guy. If Sterling Anderson wanted to trade shots, Noah felt in the mood to give him his wish. He'd start with a jab at the man's stuck-up nose.
"Who would you like to see Andi with? Ingo Hunter? Too bad your attempt to pimp Andi out to that bastard didn't work out."
Sterling went pale, a sure sign Noah's punch was a direct hit.
"Hunter isn't the issue. You are." Sterling puffed on his pipe. "If you marry my daughter, where will you live? Here? You'll let her pay the bills, I assume. You can't."
As Noah jammed his hands into his jacket pockets, his fingers closed over a small, square box. Inside was the engagement ring he'd planned to give Andi after everyone had gone to bed. The diamond wasn't large, but she wouldn't care—or so he told himself.
God, he hated how easily Sterling played on his doubts. But the man was right. He couldn't expect her to move in with him. And he sure as hell wouldn't live off her money. He'd fooled himself into believing love was enough to make a marriage work.
"Who wants a piece of Mrs. Finch's famous Yule Log?" Smiling, Andi walked across the room, taking Noah's hand. "Dessert is ready in the dining room."
"Sounds good." Noah let her lead her toward the door.
"Dad? Are you coming?"
"Be right there as soon as I put out my pipe, sweetheart."
Noah looked back at Sterling. The smug bastard knew he'd made his point.
"Did you and my father have a nice chat?" Andi asked, handing him a cup of coffee.
"We talked."
"I know he isn't the easiest person to be around. But, it is the holidays. Goodwill, toward man and so on." Laughing, she fed him a piece of cake from her plate. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
Sterling entered the dining room as if he hadn't a care in the world. Which, Noah supposed, he didn't. Not now.
He looked around at the bright, cheery decorations and wished he could hit something—hard. With a sigh, he drank his coffee.
Here's to you, Noah. Merry fucking Christmas.
~~~~
JANUARY PASSED IN a blur. Before Andi could do more than blink, February turned to March. Work filled her days to the brim and April was half over before she let herself take a breath.
When she allowed herself a moment to step back and look around, Andi finally admitted to herself something was wrong with Noah. She couldn't put her finger on the problem. When they made love, he was as attentive as always. If anything, he was more intense, more focused on pleasing her. She'd be a fool to complain. And yet, as good as he was at covering, she knew deep in her bones he wasn't happy.
"Tell me what's wrong."
"Wrong?" Noah shrugged as he pulled on his jacket. "What could be wrong?"
Suddenly, Andi's uneasiness turned to panic. Noah, the most straightforward man she'd ever known, wouldn't look her in the eye. He had something to hide. And she'd been too busy—too self-absorbed—to notice.
Not anymore. She'd allowed their relationship to grow stagnant. April was the month to toss out the old in honor of the new season. Andi liked the idea. Time for some good old-fashioned spring cleaning.
"I know something's going on."
"You're right."
Noah sighed, and Andi's stomach dropped a foot. She asked for the truth. Maybe a good old lie wouldn't be so bad after all.
"I received a business proposition." Crossing his arms, he sat on the edge of the desk. No way to hide anything in the small apartment, especially the frown on his face. "If I accept, I'd have all the money I need to work on my program full-time. State-of-the-art equipment. And best of all, I'd keep eight percent of the finished product."
"Sounds amazing." And too good to be true. "What's the catch?"
"The investor, his money, and the high-tech computer lab are in California."
Andi sank onto the bed. California. Not exactly a cab ride away.
"The offer is legitimate?"
Noah nodded.
"I didn't want to say anything unless I was absolutely certain."
"You have to take the offer."
The words stuck in Andi's throat. The last thing she wanted was for Noah to leave New York. However, when she saw the flare of hope in his eyes, she knew the only way for him to be happy was for her to let him go.
Noah hesitated. "I don't want to leave you."
"If our relationship can't survive a separation of three thousand miles, then we don't belong together."
"I don't know how long I'll be gone."
"I'll visit." Andi would give him a week to get settled. Two at the most.
"Promise you won't take time away from your business."
"You know me better than that." She held out her hand. When he pulled her close, Andi breathed easy for the first time since he mentioned California. "The fashion world doesn't cease to exist west of the Mississippi. Might be time to expand my brand to Los Angeles."
"Oh, God, Anderson." Noah wrapped his arms tight, lifting her off her feet. "For months I've wondered if I'd ever get my dream off the ground. When this offer came through, I felt hopeful and hopeless at the same time."
"What did you think I'd say?"
"Something along the lines of, get the hell out of my life, you worthless piece of shit."
Andi cringed.
"Yikes. I sound like a bitch."
"You're wonderful." Noah peppered her face with kisses. "Fantastic. Spectacular. The most amazing woman to ever walk the face of the earth."
"Now you're talking." Laughing, she returned his kiss.
"Marry me."
Shock replaced laughter. Andi's mouth fell open, certain she'd misheard.
"Did you say, marry me?" Her voice squeaked.
"If you'll settle for a long engagement." Noah kept one arm around her waist as he opened the desk's top drawer. "My mother didn't leave me much. But, this was hers."
A ring. Simple in design, the gold band held one small but, in Andi's eyes, exquisitely perfect, round diamond.
"Yes."
"Yes, you'll marry me?" Noah slipped the ring on her finger before she could clarify her answer. "Now you can't change your mind."
"I won't."
"Promise?" A hint of vulnerability Andi had never seen before flittered through Noah's deep blue eyes.
"I do. As long as you promise you'll come back to me. I don't care how long. Six months. A year. Just come back."
"Hey." Noah, his gaze steady, brushed his thumb over her chin and smiled. No, he grinned. "I promise, Anderson. I'll come
back to you."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
~~~~
PRESENT DAY
"A BIT OF advice. Never look back. Doesn't pay."
Andi sat on the edge of her desk, her gaze on the New York skyline. She knew her advice fell on deaf ears, but part of the reason she hired green-behind-the-ears designers was to help them understand the importance of longevity over a quick buck.
The heel of her mint-green stiletto pumps tapped a rhythm only she could hear. And why not? She moved to the beat of her own drum. Always had. Always would. From day one, she refused to play by anyone else's rules. Not in business, or fashion. As a result, AB Designs had a reputation for setting trends, not following them.
"Retro is always hot." A frustrated frown between his perfectly sculpted eyebrows, Lee Foyle slapped his drawing pad against his leg. "Have you seen the way kids dress? The nineties are back. Big time."
"You want to throw together a haphazard line of clothing? Compete in an already flooded market?" Andi asked, her expression deceptively calm.
"Why not?" Lee, talented, but young and arrogant, missed the sharp edge of her gaze. "AB Designs has the clout and cachet to push ahead of our competitors."
"Clout and cachet in the same sentence. Impressive."
Andi's words were one thing, her tone was another. While sarcasm dripped from her lips, Lee, again, ignored the warning signs.
"So what if the trend fades quickly?" His eagerness was palpable. "Get my designs into the stores by next month. Even if we hit the tail end of the fad, we'll get a year, maybe two of overflow. Low-hanging fruit, easy pickings."
"You're right." Andi gave him a moment to enjoy his victory. Then, because she owned the company—which meant her opinion held all the weight—she gently shot him down. "The AB Design brand is about originality, Lee. I don't go with the flow, I forge my own path. Understand?"
"But the money…? Look who I'm talking to." Lee sneered. "Ms. Moneybags."
A sharp rebuke moved all the way to the end of Andi's tongue. At the last second, before she could eviscerate Lee, she swallowed the cutting words and counted to ten.
All the years of hard work and success couldn't completely dispel the rich girl stigma placed on her from the moment she was born. Some people, no matter what, believed what they wanted. However, in her office, her business? In the world she created through sweat, brains, and sheer determination? She didn't let anyone, especially a talented, yet undeservedly arrogant pipsqueak, make even a feeble attempt to tear her down.
"I'm the boss—your boss. I pay the bills. I take the heat when the critics are less than thrilled by one of my collections. And, best of all, I decide my company's creative focus." Andi took a seat behind her desk—the position of power—to emphasize her point. "Understand?"
"Your label, your decisions," Lee grumbled.
"I appreciate your ideas. And my door is always open."
"What good is an open door if you don't take what I say seriously?"
Lee made a dramatic exit reminiscent of a three-year-old in the middle of a temper tantrum.
Andi sighed. Lee had talent. And potential. Neither of which would get him anywhere if he didn't curb his ambition, and ego, long enough to realize fashion was a business first. Creative designs and a flamboyant personality would get him noticed. But he wouldn't last a year if he didn't learn something Andi figured out before her first dress ever made the runway.
Know who you are as a designer, and even more important, as a person. The fashion industry was littered with quickly forgotten flash-in-the-pan careers. During her relatively short time at the top, Andi watched contemporaries come and go. Not because they weren't good. But because they looked for the quickest way to fame and fortune.
Andi understood the term dedication to your craft wasn't sexy. What young designers like Lee hadn't figured out was, sexy came on the runway with flowing dresses, bold colors, and plunging necklines. Flash and glitter garnered headlines—for a day or two. But only a solid foundation equaled longevity.
All she could do was do her best to impart some of her hard-earned experience. Whether Lee and his thick skull, took her words to heart was up to him.
"Knock, knock."
Pulled from her musings, Andi glanced toward her office door and grinned when she spied her sister's head poking through.
"Destry. What a wonderful surprise."
Andi opened her arms for a hug. As with everything, Destry gave the embrace her all. Warm, strong, loving. The words described her youngest sister to a T.
"Sandra said you had a few minutes."
Andi mentally scrolled through her schedule. Nothing on for the afternoon that couldn't be pushed to tomorrow. Plus, Destry was dressed for the city, not a business trip. Since she never knew when her sister might take off for parts unknown, she savored every moment they had together.
With an appraising eye, she took in Destry's outfit. As if made for her—and it was—the ankle-skimming dress, the color of spring lilacs, hugged her small, but powerful body. Sleeveless, her buff arms were on display, proof of the hours she spent working out.
If not for Andi's sky-high pumps, the heels on Destry's summery sandals would have evened the playing field, height wise. But what the youngest Benedict lacked in inches, she made up for in sheer badassery. Attitude took her sister a long way. The chops to back up the steel in her dark-brown eyes made her a force only a fool would tangle with.
Unfortunately, the world was filled with too many fools. Andi's gaze dropped to the long, thin scar just below the curve of her sister's right bicep. The cut had been deep, needing almost thirty stitches. As usual, Destry kept the injury to herself. Her family didn't find out until days after the fact.
Andi shuddered when she imagined the scrapes, bruises, and other contusions Destry sustained without anyone knowing. But, for now, she was safe and sound. A fact Andi planned to enjoy as long as possible.
"Do you have time for lunch? My treat."
"Sounds good." Destry smiled. "Mexican?"
Andi laughed. If Destry had her way, she would live on enchiladas and nachos. The spicier, the better.
"I swear you have an asbestos tongue." Andi grabbed her purse.
"More like acid, according to my last date." Destry looked pleased with the notion.
"Date?" Andi frowned. Destry rarely went in for the traditional dinner and a movie evening. "When? And how come I didn't know?"
"I don't tell you everything."
Following her sister into the elevator, Andi's eyes narrowed. True, Destry didn't tell her everything. However, what she kept to herself tended to be the dangerous bits of her life. Anything private or intimate, from her first kiss to the loss of her virginity, was an open book between them. Or so Andi thought.
"Obviously, I worded my question wrong. Instead of when, I should have asked who?"
As they walked into the blazing sunlight, Destry sighed, covering her eyes with a pair of dark glasses.
"Me and my big mouth." She shrugged. "Oh, well. If I can't share with you, then who? In a moment of weakness—aided by a few shots of tequila—I agreed to a dinner date. I've made worse mistakes. Though few as boring."
"Who?" Andi urged again.
"Patton Bland." Destry snorted. "The man lived up to his name. And then some."
The name rang a bell. Patton Bland was a lawyer. An assistant district attorney in the same office as Gerry Norton, the man Andi dated on a regular basis. The difference between the two men was striking. Gerry was ambitious. Every case was a chance to increase his profile and visibility. On the other hand, Patton was happy to do the drudge work and fade into the woodwork.
Neither man was Destry's type. But at least Gerry had a personality. Patton Bland, bless him and his unfortunate name, was probably the most forgettable person Andi could think of—when someone reminded her he existed.
"How did you meet?"
"About a month ago. The night we all
went out dancing."
Andi's expression darkened. The night wasn't one any of them would soon forget. Only Bryce's quick thinking saved her from serious harm. Their sister was fine, thriving, and in love. But the knowledge of what could have happened? The thought still gave Andi chills.
Bryce's fiancé believed their nemesis, Ingo Hunter, was behind her attack. Andi couldn't have known when she first met the man he would turn out to be a major thorn in the Benedict sisters' side. He systematically made his way through their ranks, hitting on each of them. When they made their feelings clear—a collective yuck—he moved on to their mother. Unfortunately, Billie wasn't as repulsed as her daughters.
Hunter was after the Benedict fortune, plain and simple. The amount left by their grandfather in trust for the firstborn male heir was more money than most people could imagine. The careful management of the fund and the family's still-thriving diverse business enterprises meant the fund continued to grow each year. Neither Andi, nor her sisters would ever inherit, but they kept a close eye on each transaction. They trusted the board of directors to keep the coffers full.
However, like any fattened goose, they had to keep an eye out for circling vultures. Andi had a keen eye for a fortune seeker. As did her sisters. Their mother? Not so much. Until recently, Billie had been lucky. The men in her life were more interested in her body than her money. Considering her mindboggling number of relationships, her luck was bound to run out. Enter Ingo Hunter.
On the surface, Hunter seemed like all the rest. He was a powerful man in possession of his own fortune. Naturally, he wanted more. The rich always wanted to get richer. For reasons they'd yet to discover, Hunter's need for more money was pathological.
If he were behind the attack on Bryce, his motivation was chilling. If any of the Benedict sisters passed away without children, the sizable trust fund left to them by their grandfather passed to Billie. More money for Hunter to control. But why?
Fact. Someone tried to have Bryce killed. Fact. All clues pointed to Ingo Hunter. Their mother's current boyfriend paid others to do his dirty work—and paid them well. Unless they could find proof, there was nothing they could do.
Three Wishes_A Second Chance at Love Contemporary Romance Page 16
