Beneath the indecision and longing, a familiar resignation stirred. If Matt had wanted to find her, nothing would have stopped him. And if he hadn't contacted her by now, nearly a month since they'd parted, he never would.
She swiveled her chair around, blinking rapidly, and several minutes passed as she focused fiercely on the framed antique shoe prints on her walls.
"This weepy stuff has got to stop," she muttered.
"Do you talk to walls a lot?"
Lili froze, her fingers gripping the armrests. Slowly, hardly daring to believe her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, she turned her chair and faced the tall, dark-haired man in jeans and a black leather bomber jacket leaning against the closed door of her office.
"Hi, Lili." Matt didn't move from the door, and she could sense the uncertainty vibrating from him. His gaze didn't leave her face. "You busy? I can come back later if—"
"No, I'm not busy. I'm … I have absolutely no idea what to say," she admitted baldly. "I never expected to see you again."
"I know." He paused. "I was in the area, and you said if I was, I should drop in and say hello."
Her heart pounded, a steady thump-thump-thump. "Why are you in New York?"
"I'm looking for a job." After a moment, he glanced around at the pictures crowding the walls of her office. "Nice pictures."
"They're all taken from my collection."
Oh, this was good … the man of her dreams walked back into her life, filling her with a hundred questions, and she discussed decor. Lili stood, but didn't move away from her desk. "Are you looking for a job in security?"
If her situation could get any worse, this would be it. If he were halfway across the country she could pretend he was safe, but if he were right here, in New York… Anger spurted. How could he do this to her?
"No," Matt said, looking straight at her. "I'm not in security anymore."
Lili abruptly sat down, tingling with elation, yet half-afraid to hope. Then the meaning of his words sank in.
"I see," she finally managed.
"Do you want to have lunch?" he asked.
"Yes … yes, I'd like that." She stood again, feeling a bit like a jack-in-the-box, and headed for her coat.
God, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself in his arms and hug him as hard as she could. She'd missed the press of his body against her at night, his arms around her, his quiet strength and quick mind. As she passed him, the heat of his body, the scents of cologne and leather, hit her with a visceral jolt, making her knees weak and the rest of her go all shaky.
"You're looking good," she said with deliberate calmness, and reached for her coat.
Matt helped her into it, then turned up the collar around her chin and pulled her closer. "So are you," he murmured, his gaze searching hers as he brushed the sides of her jaw lightly with his fingers. "I missed you, Lili."
"I missed you, too," she whispered – but pulled away from him, gently yet firmly.
She had too much pride to fall for him all over again – not until she understood why he was really here.
"You changed your hair color."
She touched her hair, remembering. "I was in need of a change." She left it at that, knowing he'd never understand why a new hair color had made her feel that little bit better on a bad day when she'd needed it most.
"It's … red. Kind of." He cocked his head to one side, studying her. "Or more like—"
He stopped, and made a questioning movement with his hand.
"Maroon?" she supplied. God, he was such a … guy.
"Yeah, more like maroon. I like it."
She smiled, feeling her cheeks warm. "If you're going for fake, why hold back? There's an Italian place a few blocks away. It's not fancy, but the food's great."
"Works for me," he said, and as he opened her office door, he crooked his elbow toward her.
She hesitated. He noticed but said nothing, only waited in silence. Still, he wasn't as calm as he pretended – she could see the lines of tension around his mouth, the wariness in those gray eyes. Finally, she rested her hand on his arm, oddly touched by his old-fashioned manners, and he led her outside.
They didn't talk as they walked down the noisy, crowded street and into the restaurant. It was warm inside, pungent with the scents of tomatoes and garlic. The same family had run it for three generations, and eating there felt like eating at an old friend's house. Because it was mid-afternoon, the hostess was able to seat them right away at a table toward the back. The woman smiled, placed menus on the white tablecloth, then left them alone to watch each other over the single red rose in a glass vase in the middle of the table.
How awkward – and strange. She'd shared a bed with this man, told him secrets, and had made love with him time and time again. All she had to do was close her eyes, and she could see his body in graphic detail. Yet it felt as if they were meeting as strangers, struggling for what to say, how to act.
"How's your arm?" she asked, settling on a safe subject.
"Almost as good as new." He shifted his gaze away from her, then back. "Did you ever get your shoes back from the police?"
Lili shook her head. "Not yet. There's a collector in Las Vegas who's offering me an obscene amount of money for them, to go with his gangster collection. I just might let him have them."
"It could be a long time before anybody sees them again, or that bag they dug out of the dirt. Technically, I guess the ring and jewelry belong to Tony Graziano, but I don't think he's in any position to demand anything."
She smiled a little, and took a sip of water. "And Manny and Dal … how are they doing?"
"Manny's fine. He's been out of the hospital for a while, but he's still in physical therapy. He said to tell you hi." When she smiled, he added, "It was touch and go there for a while with Dal, but he's doing great."
"That's good to hear."
With the safe subjects exhausted, another silence fell between them. Lili shifted in her chair, wondering what to do next, and caught Matt's expression. "What are you smiling about?"
"You," he said. "You're squirming."
She sighed. "I don't know what to say. I'm happy you're here, but I can't help wondering what this is all about."
"I told you I'm looking for a job – or trying to, anyway. I wasn't taking the easy way out when I told you there's not a lot of work out there for someone with a work history like mine. Especially if I'm not looking at any more security jobs."
To give her hands something to do, she began playing with her spoon. "I thought you were going to start your own agency."
"I changed my mind." He sat back in his chair, taking in a long breath. "After what happened, I can't go back to that kind of work."
Alarmed she asked, "Did you get into trouble? Did they take away your license or something?"
Amusement touched his eyes. "No, I didn't get kicked out of the bodyguard club." Then he glanced away. "I killed a man, Lili. He was a lowlife animal, it was self-defense, and he was the one who shot Dal – but no matter how often I remind myself of that, I can't forget. And Joey Mancuso … what he said shook me up pretty bad."
"Matt—"
He held up his hand. "Let me finish. What he said made me do a lot of thinking, and in the end I didn't like what I came up with."
Lili reached across the table and took his hand in hers, squeezing it sympathetically. That night still gave her nightmares – and she hadn't been the one who'd pulled the trigger.
"What I'm trying to say is that the truth sometimes takes getting used to, especially since I was so damn sure I was right. But I wasn't, and there's no way I can ever go back." He brushed his thumb against the inside of her hand. "I did tell Dan Armistead I'd teach seminars at his training institute. It's good money for a few weeks a year, and I know I'll find a job soon enough. Even if it means flipping burgers."
The waitress arrived to take their order, smiling warmly at them – probably because she and Matt looked like two sweethearts, all lovey-dovey in
their little corner of the world.
After the woman left, Lili pulled back her hand, a small hope rising within her. Unable to hold back any longer, she asked, "Did you come to New York for me, Matt?"
Quietly, he said, "I came to New York for us."
At the words she'd wanted to hear for so long, her heart skipped its regular beat, and she took a quick breath to keep from bursting into tears and embarrassing herself.
"I kept telling myself it'd be a mistake and wouldn't work. We were too different, and a guy like me wasn't what a woman like you really wanted. Except I like how you're different from me, and I'm not so sure anymore what kind of guy I am."
"Well, I know." At his raised brow, Lili smiled. "You're my kind of guy."
A wide, answering smile broke across his face, reminding her all over again why she'd fallen in love with this man. He had so much heart, touching her like no one else she'd ever known.
A sudden inspiration took hold of her. Maybe a crazy idea, but she fixed him with an intent stare as she leaned across the table. "Matt, I sort of fired Jared. My business manager."
He raised a brow. "Good for you. How'd he take it?"
"I think he was secretly relieved, though he'd never say so to my face. He's showing me the ins and outs of running a business. I'm sure I'll do fine, and it'll be good for me to learn about the nuts-and-bolts end of things, but I know I'll need to hire somebody to help me out," she added in a breathless rush, trying to get all the words out before he could interrupt. "Like you said, sometimes it's hard to face the truth, but the fact is, I just don't have a good head for business. You want the job of running things for me?"
He stared at her, and a good half minute passed as she waited in an agony of anticipation before he said, "Me? You want me to work for you?"
"Why not?" she demanded, stung by his tone of voice, as if it was the most inconceivable thing he could imagine.
"Lili, I don't know a damn thing about shoes."
"You don't have to. Jared didn't. All you have to do is manage details, and I know you'd be good at that." She tried to look as serious as possible in the face of his continued bemusement. "I've been studying up on market analysis, profitability assessment, flow charts, and balance sheets … all that stuff you talked about that afternoon. I can understand it, but I have to tell you, Matt, it's not my bliss. You know what I mean?"
He smiled, rubbing his hand across his beard-shadowed jaw. "Bliss, huh?"
"But you think and analyze like a strategist. You see all the pieces of the whole, all the possibilities and problems that might play out. I need someone with your brain, because mine tunnels on color and form, design and function … not dollar signs."
"At last," he said, his smile slowly widening to a grin, "a woman who wants me for my brains, not my brawn."
"The brawn's a perk," she said mischievously, her gaze lingering on his shoulders and chest. "Can't have a business deal without perks."
He focused on her face with that unnerving intensity of his. "You're serious?"
She sketched an "X" across the chest of her tight, black knit dress – and observed how his gaze followed her finger across her breasts. "Cross my heart and hope to die."
He looked up from her breasts, his gaze full of sensual intent. "Do I get perks, too?"
Lili arched a brow. "Depends on how you perform. On the job," she added hastily, going warm.
"What if I screw up on the job?"
"I suppose you'd have to go back to flipping burgers."
"And the perks? Would I get to keep those?"
"Buddy, you drive a hard bargain." She laughed softly, still warm. "But most definitely. It's part of the package deal."
"All right," he said after a moment. "I'll take the job of keeping you organized, Lili, but under one condition – you have to marry me."
Lili jerked in surprise, nearly tipping her water glass. "Marry you?"
"Not right away," he added quickly. "We need some time to get to know each other better first."
She swallowed, uncertain of his seriousness. "True," she agreed.
"But those couple weeks were pretty damn unforgettable."
Their eyes met, memories of those days and nights sizzling between them. Matt shifted on his chair and rubbed at the back of his neck, looking so unsure of himself that she wanted to rush to him, fling her arms around his neck, and kiss him until he could hardly breathe.
Instead, she stayed in her chair, her hands clasped in her lap, waiting.
"I can't imagine my life without you in it," he said quietly. "I just can't."
Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes, and happiness rushed over her. "Oh, Matt, that is the most romantic thing any man has ever said to me."
"It is?" he asked, plainly startled. When she nodded, laughing, a smug look crossed his face. Holding his hand out across the table, he flashed that knee-melting smile and said, "So whaddya say, dollface? Is it a deal?"
She stared, then said in a low, provocative voice, "You want to shake my hand?"
"That's the way you seal a business deal."
She tossed her napkin aside and stood. "Not in my business it isn't."
His gaze sharpened with alarm. "Lili—"
Lili lifted one knee onto the table, then the other, and crawled across the table toward him.
Matt's jaw dropped.
Pushing the dishes aside, Lili kept one hand on the table for support, then slid the other into his hair and angled his face toward her.
She kissed him deeply, with a whole lot of enthusiasm and a touch of tongue. Matt made a low, surprised sound, then reached up, cupped her face in his hands, and hungrily kissed her back.
At the sound of cheers and scattered applause, Lili broke away and glanced at the customers and employees who watched, some in amazement, others with broad smiles. Looking back at Matt, she grinned into his half-lidded, sexy gaze and ignored a faint flush of embarrassment.
"Deal," she whispered. "Sealed with a kiss."
A smile curved his mouth. "You know what, Lil?"
"What?"
"You're always surprising me."
"Is this a good thing?"
He laughed, pulled her off the table and onto his lap, and gave her another long, deep kiss. "Yeah. It's a very good thing."
Epilogue
"Sugar and Spice, Naughty and Nice:
Shoes for Girls Who just Wanna Have Fun"
by Armand Brownlee,
photographs by Lisa Loomis
Harper's Bazaar
After five years of blazing trails in the smaller, more intimate arena of bridal footwear, Lili Kavanaugh and her trademark style of romantic fantasy have invaded the big, bad world of haute couture. While continuing her bridal line, Kavanaugh introduces a new line of fashion shoes in her fall/winter collection and, as with her bridal wear, she plans on offering both ready-to-wear and special order designs.
"Working with bridal shoes allows me to do everything from really retro – and I'm talking medieval or even earlier – to futuristic, from simply sexy to purely playful," says Kavanaugh. "There are no limits, except that the shoes have to be completely, totally feminine. I'm taking the same approach to my new line, with feminine and sexy my only limits."
Indeed, "totally feminine" defines the sketches and demos I see strewn about her Long Beach, New Jersey, home office, which has a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean from the second floor's wraparound balcony.
It's a world away from her trendy new Soho boutique, but it's hard not to feel inspired by romantic days of yore when looking at such a view. I think of dashing captains on the decks of clipper ships, graceful women in silks and crinolines pacing along widow's walks. Then a pretty woman in a thong bikini strolls along the beach-front, and I think sexy and wild, and have an urge to beat my chest like Tarzan.
Life here has softer edges, and Kavanaugh eschews the New York scene for family life on the beach, although her business manager husband, Matt Hawkins, splits his time between
New York and home. The couple's sailboat is their home away from home several months of the year.
As I sit here with Kavanaugh, charmed by her passion and verve, it doesn't seem at all strange that her recent past includes an episode that reads like a film noir movie script with Bogey and Bacall. Among her colleagues, you still hear the gossip about how her husband was also her former bodyguard, and saved her from a kidnapping attempt. Knowing a good thing when he saw it, Hawkins was smart enough to fall in love with the lady and marry her. Hawkins is the brains behind the company, and his calculated yet aggressive management – and intuitive ability to capitalize on trends – has taken his flamboyant wife's designs to the top of the industry.
"He keeps me grounded, I keep him crazy. It's a match made in heaven," Kavanaugh laughs. The couple's daughter, three-year-old Meggie, zooms around her mother's office in a hot pink swimsuit salted with sand, her curly hair the same honey-brown color as her mother's. The girl brandishes a large conch like a trophy, and leaves tiny, wet footprints on the polished hardwood floor.
"I can't get that kid to wear shoes," Kavanaugh says with a mournful sigh. "Can you believe it? It must be a genetic fluke or something."
We sit in the sunlight of late afternoon, listening to the surf and talking shoes, shoes, shoes. Kavanaugh is a bundle of energy, always on the move, showing me sketches, talking about her collection of historical shoes – currently on loan to Canada's Bata Shoe Museum – sharing pipe dreams, and sometimes I hear a note of worry in her voice as she prepares to launch her newest venture.
Judging from what I'm seeing today, however, she needn't worry.
Her husband comes in to collect Meggie, carrying son Alec, born ten weeks ago. Hawkins exudes the powerful physical presence of his former profession, and the incisive intelligence in his eyes seems to see right through you. He has an edge to him not usually found in Fashion Land, an edge that leaves you thinking he's been to far darker places than most of us can imagine. Even in Armani, with a burp rag over his shoulder and toting a newborn, he's not a man you want to underestimate.
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