by Arianna Hart
A Man For Marley
Arianna Hart
Chapter One
Hunter O’Malley raced cars at speeds of over two hundred miles per hour. He’d driven on asphalt raceways where a single mistake could mean the end of his career, if not his life. He’d competed against drivers so bloodthirsty they’d cut off their own mothers to win a race.
None of that prepared him for driving in New York City.
Driving in the city gave 'death defying' new meaning. He was cut off by taxis, honked at, sworn at, and almost rear-ended when he stopped for a red light. Pedestrians took their lives into their own hands as they swarmed around his truck, regardless of the color of the traffic light, and buses almost ran him off the road.
He couldn’t wait to get back to the track where it was safe.
By the time he found a parking place that was big enough for his truck he was fifteen minutes late for his appointment with his father’s lawyer. Hunter wasn’t exactly looking forward to the visit, but he didn’t like being late. Did anyone ever want to visit a lawyer? Especially when it was for the reading of a parent’s will?
Hunter felt a now familiar thickening in his throat.
He still couldn’t believe his father was dead and buried. Now he had to go through the reading of the will, the settling of the estate, and then he could get back to the track. Once on the track he would be able to forget his father’s death. Forget the pull in the gut he felt every time he crossed the Throgs Neck Bridge onto Long Island. Forget the pain he felt seeing his childhood home empty.
Behind the wheel of his racecar, he wouldn’t have to tamp down the nausea brought on by the smell of the hospital, fight the sickening feelings of fear that assaulted him nowhere else but in those too-quiet halls, or realize the bone-deep sadness of knowing a parent was never coming back.
He needed high speeds and the smell of burnt rubber to clear his head.
Hunter raced through the front doors of the uptown office building and tapped his foot impatiently while he waited for the elevator to descend to the lobby. He jabbed the up arrow uselessly and looked at his watch. Sixteen minutes late.
Finally it arrived and he hurried inside. It seemed to take forever for the car to rumble up the eight floors to the office. When the doors slid open, he busted out of them like a racehorse out of the gate.
The names on the office doors sped by in a blur as he rushed down the hall. Finding the one he needed, he slammed the door open with more force than necessary. He probably gave the secretary quite a shock, but any reaction was hidden behind the glasses perched on the end of her nose.
“Good morning, Mr. O’Malley, they are waiting for you in the conference room,” she said with a disapproving look over the steel frames.
“Thanks.” Hunter slowed his pace and got his breathing under control. It wouldn’t look very good to burst through that particular door.
Wait a minute, did she say they? Who else was here? Hunter was an only child, his mother had passed away years ago, and he didn’t have any other close relatives that he knew of. Who were they?
Hunter took a deep breath, and then opened the door labeled 'Conference.' He saw his father’s lawyer and then his breath came out in a whoosh when he got a look at who exactly the rest of they was.
In one of the many high-backed leather chairs around a large table sat a petite bombshell of a woman. Her midnight blue eyes focused on him with the intensity of a laser, then dismissed him. Hunter stared at her in silence, hoping to get another look at those eyes, that face, but she studiously avoided looking in his direction.
What was her name? Harley? No, Marley. She worked at his father’s bar, Hunter remembered his father talking about her. She was the one who called to tell him Pops wasn’t going to make it much longer.
His body shivered again as he remembered how her husky voice had stirred him even over the phone.
Hunter had only gotten a glimpse of her at the hospital; she had left his father’s side as soon as he’d arrived.
He took a longer look at her profile, trying to match it with the pony-tailed woman he’d last seen.
She’d been wearing a T-shirt and jeans then, and he remembered that her eyes had been red and swollen from crying, but that was all.
Well, she certainly wasn’t in jeans and a ponytail now. She was in a form-fitting dark-blue suit, and her hair was pulled away from her face by a clip, with loose raven curls tumbling down her back. Her lips were compressed in a tight line, but Hunter thought he remembered them as being red and full. What was she so mad about? So he was a little late, what was the big deal?
Hunter looked around the room, David Haas stood up from his seat at the head of the table with his hand outstretched. David had been his father’s lawyer for years.
“Sorry I’m late. I’m not used to New York traffic any more.” Hunter turned his most charming smile, the one that magazine articles had called 'boyishly devastating' towards Marley. It didn’t appear to have any effect on her.
“No problem, no problem at all. Why don’t you just take a seat by Ms. Sullivan and we’ll get started right away?” David indicated the seat next to Marley.
Hunter sat close to her, and if it was possible, she stiffened even further. She might be a looker, but she didn’t know how to relax.
“First, Hunter, let me offer you my condolences. Seamus was a good man and good friend.”
“Thank you. He was a good father as well.” Hunter never knew what to say when people offered condolences. He was trying to think of something a little more profound when he could have sworn he heard a snort come from the woman next to him.
“Well, let’s get down to business then, shall we?”
David sat again, pulled out some papers out of the file in front of him and cleared his throat before he began reading. “I, Seamus Finnegan O’Malley, being of sound mind and body do bequeath the following...”
Hunter’s attention began to wander as the lawyer listed the charities Seamus had included in the will.
None of this mattered to him. He’d loved his father and would miss him, but now all he wanted to do was get away. New York had felt empty to him since the day his mother died, and all the millions of people scurrying around in the city couldn’t change that.
God, that was depressing. Like a reading of a will wasn’t enough of a downer. He distracted himself with thoughts about what he needed to do to get his car in shape. Racing had always been the one thing he could count on to be there for him, and now he was losing precious time. Time that could be better spent trying to get all his pieces in place for the next race.
He could hand the running of the bar over to someone, sell the house and use the money to help him build up his base. Maybe he could get one of his father’s friends to take care of the sale of the house.
Hunter’s attention snapped back to the lawyer when he heard his name.
“To my only son Hunter James, I bequeath half of my life insurance policy, the entirety of the stocks and bonds I have put away, the proceeds from the sale of the house, and fifty percent ownership of O’Malley’s.”
“To Ms. Marley Jane Sullivan, the daughter I never had, I bequeath the other half of the life insurance policy, a savings account I set up for her with the rent money she has been paying me over the last four years, and the other fifty percent of O’Malley’s with first right of refusal on Hunters half, as well as any china, crystal, and jewelry of my late wife’s that Hunter doesn’t want.”
Hunter heard the soft gasp next to him, but was still too much in shock to grasp its meaning. His father had given her half of the bar and half of the insurance. He didn’t even know his father had a life insurance policy. What other surprises were in store for him?
The lawy
er stopped reading and looked at Hunter and Marley. He seemed rather uncomfortable and Hunter got a bad feeling in his gut.
“There is no easy way to tell you the next part of the will, so I’m just going to lay it out on the line. In order for either of you to receive a dime, Hunter has to move into the apartment over the bar and work there with Ms. Sullivan for the next six months. If he doesn’t stay the full six months, everything Seamus bequeathed to the two of you goes to his cousin Thomas in Dubuque, Iowa.”
“Hold on a second,” Hunter rose from the table and leaned over to look the lawyer in the eye. “Are you telling me that in order to get anything I have to give up my life, my career, for six months and work in a bar? This is ridiculous! How could you let him set up a will with conditions like that? I didn’t even know he had a cousin in Iowa.”
Hunter was furious. He couldn’t believe his father was still trying to guilt him into taking over the bar, even after he was dead. Well, Hunter wasn’t going to be manipulated into giving up six months of his life for a measly half of an insurance policy. Really, the money would go a long way towards helping him get ahead in the standings, but it wasn’t enough for him to give up his entire career. Was it? How much would he be missing out on if he just walked out the door right now?
Hunter was again jolted back to reality by the sound of Marley’s voice. “Mr. Haas, can you lay out how much money we are talking about here? And what do you mean by ‘first right of refusal?’”
Her voice was as husky as he remembered, and poured like honey over his body. He could feel his blood stir and she was only asking about rights of refusal. Imagine if she talked dirty to him. His body hardened at the thought.
“First right of refusal means that after the six months are up, if Hunter wants to sell his half of the bar, he has to offer it to you first. You can either buy him out or refuse him. As to the total sum of money we are discussing, in your case it would amount to one-hundred-thousand dollars for your half of the insurance policy, fifty-thousand dollars in the savings account, and of course the value of the bar, which you would know better than anyone else.”
Marley looked like she was adding in her head. “If you include all the stock, the location, the profits after taxes, the bar itself is worth close to three-hundred-thousand. Add in the value of the building and the rent from the apartments, and it is at least triple that.”
Hunter was in shock. That was a lot more money than he’d expected. He needed to think about this a little harder.
“How much money does he have in stocks? I didn’t even know he invested,” Hunter asked, sitting back into his chair.
“His stock portfolio is approximately two-hundred-fifty thousand dollars, depending on the market. Plus there are the proceeds from the sale of the house. I have to tell you, there is a buyer waiting to close. Seamus wanted to spend his last days at home, but I’ve already completed most of the paperwork. As soon as you clear it out, the closing can go through.”
“Pop already sold the house?” Hunter felt like he was falling down the rabbit hole.
“He figured you wouldn’t want to deal with it,” Marley spoke directly to him for the first time.
“So, what is the bottom line here?” Hunter was having a hard time adding everything up. The blood loss from his brain as he watched Marley agitatedly cross and uncross those delectable legs wasn’t helping any.
“Your bottom line is about seven-hundred-fifty thousand dollars for working at a bar for six months.”
Marley pushed away from the table. “My bottom line is that I lose everything if you can’t grow up long enough to take some responsibility for once in your life. Mr. Haas, you have my number, let me know when the decision is made and what it is. Until then, I’ve got work to do.”
Hunter watched as she slung a backpack-style purse over her shoulder and walked out of the room.
It took him a few seconds to react, but he got up to go after her. “I’ll be in touch,” he shot over his shoulder as he raced out the door.
He caught up with her at the elevator, now grateful it was so slow. She turned when she heard his footsteps in the hall, and he could have sworn she was going to head for the stairs, but she held her ground.
“What do you want?”
What the hell was wrong with her? She just got half of the bar that technically belonged to him. He was supposed be the one who was pissed off.
“What’s your problem? You should be doing cartwheels down the hall instead of stalking out like you’ve got a stick up your ass. That bar’s been in my family for years and you’re getting half of it.”
“I get half only if you can suck it up and work there for six months. And as for it being in your family for years, you could have fooled me. Where have you been for the past six years? Not working in your family’s bar. I have, though. I’ve busted my ass to make O’Malley’s a successful bar and now it’s all going to some jerk in Iowa if you can’t man up.”
“Oh, I get it. You thought you were going to get the bar free and clear, and the idea of sharing doesn’t sit well with you.” The elevator doors opened and he followed her into the car.
“You ass. I never thought I was going to get it free and clear. I had a deal with Seamus that I would buy him out.”
“So now you can buy me out instead. What’s the big deal?” He still thought she was pissed because she was going to have to buy him out, but he wasn’t about to give it up to her for nothing. He needed that money. If she wanted the bar, fine he could care less, but she’d pay for it.
“The ‘big deal’ is that I don’t even know if you are going to do it or not.” She jabbed the floor buttons angrily.
“Looks like we don’t have much of a choice. If you want the bar and I want the money, we’ll have to work together for the next six months.” Hunter didn’t realize he’d made his decision until the words flew out of his mouth.
“You think you can handle it? I’ll tell you flat out, I don’t think you have it in you to work for six straight months. And make no mistake, you will be working. O’Malley’s doesn’t keep slackers on the payroll.”
“I was working in that bar when you were still listening to bedtime stories. I can take it.” Hunter hoped she knew as much about running the bar as she pretended. He knew squat about management, but he could do the bull work no sweat. If she’d been working there for six years, then she knew way more than he ever wanted to about bar management. Let her be the boss, as long as they each got what they wanted he’d work under her without complaint.
His dick slammed painfully into his zipper again.
Oh yeah, he’d work under her. And over her, behind her—however she wanted him to.
Marley snorted and rolled her eyes at his comment as the elevator arrived at the ground floor.
“Then you might as well come with me now. I’ve got the keys to your apartment at my place.”
“Why do you have them?” Hunter moved a little closer to her. She was tiny; without heels, she’d probably only come up to the middle of his chest. The image of her licking his nipples flashed into his brain, sending more blood to his lower extremity.
“Because it’s right next to mine. We’ll practically be roomies.”
—
Marley couldn’t believe she was going to be tied to that irresponsible, arrogant excuse for a human being for six months. Seamus had promised her he would take care of her. Sworn he wouldn’t sell the bar out from under her. Well, he didn’t. In fact, if it wasn’t for the idiot still standing in the elevator staring at her, she would be thrilled with the news she’d received today. She wasn’t going to have to mortgage her life to buy the bar; she had half of it free and clear, and with the money he left her she’d be able to buy the other half.
All she had to do was baby-sit Golden Boy for six months. Six very long months. He had stood so close to her in the tiny elevator car that she could smell the spice of his cologne. He really was quite an attractive package.
The papers ha
d called him 'The Golden Boy' because of the honey-gold color of his hair and because of his growing Midas touch around the racetrack. His face was tanned, and his light blue eyes stared at her from under gleaming gold-tipped eyelashes. His cheekbones were sharp, and his chin strong. The only thing that saved him from being pretty was a lump that bespoke a broken nose somewhere in his past. He’s probably going to make an appointment to get that fixed as soon as he gets his money.
She stalked out of the office building into the June heat, the stockings on her legs immediately suffocating her. She hated wearing dressy clothes; give her jeans any day of the week. She looked around for a cab. If there were supposedly a million taxis in Manhattan, how come she could never get one?
“What are you doing?”
Marley shivered as that deep voice washed over here.
“I’m trying to get a cab so you can see your new home.” She refused to look at him.
“Why don’t we just take my truck?”
“You have a car?”
“No, I have a truck, if it’s still where I left it. Come on, it’s right down this street. I had a hard time finding a parking place, that’s why I was late.”
“It doesn’t look like we’re going to have much luck getting a cab, so we might as well clog the streets even more. Lead on—” Marley stopped herself from calling him Golden Boy just in time. They walked the two blocks in silence. Marley hated the fact that he had to slow down to match her stride; his legs were twice as long as hers. That didn’t stop her from admiring the length of them, though, and when the crush of pedestrians forced him to walk ahead of her, she gave his butt a lengthy once-over as well.
It was too bad he was such a playboy, because he sure was easy on the eyes. Of course, she supposed that was why he was a playboy. Women couldn’t help but throw themselves at him, and he didn’t seem to be dodging out of their way—at least that’s what Seamus’ collection of magazine and newspaper articles implied.
By the time they reached his truck, Marley’s feet hurt from walking on the concrete in heels, her legs were sweaty and sticky, and her blouse was sticking to her back. Her hair was curling wildly in the humidity, and she felt wisps clinging to her face and neck. Late June in the city was hot; she had ditched her suit jacket a block and a half ago. She was stuffing this thing to the back of her closet as soon as she got home.
