by Jo Leigh
“Not a guy like you? I talk to Logan and Rick. They’re not Hawking. I don’t even know Stephen Hawking. He never calls.”
“Never writes? Bastard.”
She smiled and some of her parts relaxed. Not her heart, though. That was still doing cartwheels even as she tried to put on the brakes. “I’m still me,” she said, as a reminder to herself more than him. “Still can’t talk on the phone worth a damn. Still watching my old copies of Robot Chicken and playing ‘World of Warcraft.’”
“Thank God,” he said. “I’d hate it if you weren’t you. No, that’s wrong. We all change, and I’m sure you have, too. You’re certainly doing a great job in the career department.”
“I have people. Lawyers. A financial planner and a business manager. They talk business. I talk to tech people, so that’s like school.”
“I’m glad. I really am. Look, I’m coming to Boston for a week or so, and I’d love to stay in that smart apartment, at least for a few days. But mostly, I want to see you.”
See her? Why? “Okay,” she said, because she was an idiot and she couldn’t think straight and this was Matt. “When are you coming?”
“In three days.”
“Oh. Wow. I’m not exactly sure of the schedule, so when Clark gets back, I’ll have him check, okay? He usually makes things, um, happen, so, you know, he’s at lunch but he’ll give you a call.”
After a tense pause, Matt said, “I will get to see you, right?”
No. The word she was looking for was no. She couldn’t see him. Not in a million years. It would be a disaster of epic proportions. “Yeah. Of course. I’ve got some deadline things, but, you know.”
He laughed. Quietly. Fondly. And that was the stuff that made him so dangerous. He was rich, gorgeous, smart as a whip and could have any woman on the planet. And he was her friend. The problem was that she’d fallen in love with him two minutes after midnight on her sixteenth birthday and now it was all too clear she hadn’t let go of that silly pipe dream. Great. This couldn’t suck more.
“I’m glad Clark is still there with you.”
“Yeah. Couldn’t do it without him. But he also does some cool stuff on his own.”
After a brief silence that proved to Sam it was impossible to swallow with a dry mouth, Matt said, “I’m excited to see you, Sammy.”
“I’m wearing a Black Widow sweatshirt and black tights I bought at a flea market in Cambridge.”
“Okay. Wait. Didn’t you used to wear something like that back at MIT?”
“Yep. Same sweatshirt.”
“That’s my girl.” This time Matt’s laugh put her on edge. She felt like that socially inept teenager he’d befriended a lifetime ago. “Okay, I’ll let you get back to work,” he said. “Let me know about the apartment.”
“Will do.”
After they disconnected, she put her cell phone back where it belonged, picked up her iPod and changed the music to Led Zeppelin.
The pounding drumbeat synced to her thudding heart. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t. God. But what if...?
* * *
MATT DRANK IN the sight of the New York City skyline, and as always, he lingered on the Chrysler Building, his favorite. It was a clear fall night, and from his twenty-fourth-floor penthouse, everything looked the way it did in the movies. His trip to Asia had lasted two long months but was well worth it. He’d negotiated a nice purchase price for an international hotel chain, Voyager Hotels. It was a big win for Wilkinson Holdings and for him personally. He needed all the points he could get with the board meeting coming up. It was time for him to take the next step up the ladder, which meant taking charge of the London office. Since WH was a family business—his family’s—there were people on the board who believed every victory of his was somehow manipulated by his father and two uncles.
Even with all the politics that came with being in-house counsel for a top-100 company, he wouldn’t change anything. Well, except for that London gig. He wanted that. Enough to play the game the way his father had taught him.
But right now it felt great to be home. It also felt great to be alone. He needed to relax for the next couple of days, get over the jet lag before he went to Boston and made nice at the corporate office. The company’s annual gala for the Boston Children’s Hospital was coming up—a great cause but always a chore. Two days after the fund-raiser was the annual board meeting.
He’d much rather think about his upcoming mini vacation. Although Boston was really home. He’d been born and raised in Beacon Hill. Gone to two universities in Cambridge, had a lot of friends who lived in the city.
The only one he cared to see this time was Sam. She’d been on his mind since he’d heard from his buddy Logan McCabe. He and Logan both lived in New York but rarely saw each other, with Matt’s crazy travel schedule. But as soon as Logan had told him about the smart apartment and Sam, that was it. Matt had picked up the phone and she’d answered, and it was like going back in time.
She was terrible on the phone. Always had been. But it had been great to hear her voice. Logan had said she’d stepped up her game when it came to the business and was still a workaholic. Matt had known from their first few conversations at MIT that she was going to play in the big leagues one day.
He’d seen a couple of pictures of her online, neither of which had been very good. It seemed she was still camera shy, mainly because of her freckles, he imagined. She’d always hated them. There was just a spray of them across her nose, but she thought they made her look hideous. That and her copper penny–red hair.
She’d tried dyeing it black once. What a nightmare that had been. Goth and Sam did not go together. She was far too earnest and far too sensible to fall in with a crowd that demanded such conformity. Eventually, her hair had grown out and the nose ring had disappeared. He wondered if she still had that row of piercings climbing up the outer shell of her left ear.
Damn, he was anxious to see her. After he’d graduated and moved out of the house the gang had shared off campus, he hadn’t spoken to Sam but for a couple of times. Then he’d started law school and she was working on her second master’s, and with their hectic schedules the communication had dwindled to a few texts here and there, mostly around the holidays and special occasions. Once he’d married Vanessa, he and Sam had stopped texting.
He wasn’t sure why, but for his part it had felt like the right thing to do, even though Sam wasn’t a romantic interest. Hell, she was five years younger than he was and so much smarter that there was no chart for it. Not that he was a lightweight, because goddamn Harvard Law Review his second year. But she was made of different stuff.
Back at MIT they’d bonded over computer games and insomnia, right along with Logan and Rick, who’d also lived at Randall Hall, and the four of them had become thick as thieves. They had all felt somewhat protective of Sam. She might have been smart enough to take on Hawking, but she hadn’t been quite old enough to navigate university life on her own. So the guys had kept their eye on her in the dorm and had even run interference a few times on campus. One particular incident still made him wince and smile at the same time. It had ended with him getting a hell of a shiner.
Sometimes he’d wondered if Sam felt that talking to him, to the three of them, was like talking to a pet. She’d never implied that she felt she was intellectually above them, but none of the rest of them had been able to understand the complexity of her studies. They hadn’t had to. They hadn’t cared about her grades, her habits, any of that. The four of them had laughed a lot. Watched a lot of weird movies. Played a lot of computer games. She always said they made her feel normal. Well, normal-ish.
He couldn’t wait to see her.
He’d had a beer with dinner, but now it was time for a little Johnnie Walker Black. Nightcap of champions.
Matt’s bones ached and he had that plane
smell on him. He’d let the scotch settle him down, have a long hot shower, then hit the sheets.
But as he sipped his drink, another memory, not a great one, stirred. Like so many college kids, he’d done his share of foolish things, made a few reckless choices, engaged in some risky behavior that would’ve stunned anyone who knew him now. He wasn’t proud of any of it, but that night long ago when he’d messed up with Sam was the worst. The truth was, things had changed after that. He’d learned a lot about the wisdom of sobriety that night. That was all in the past, though, and now he’d have a chance to get to know her again. At least, he hoped so. She’d sounded a little reluctant. But then, with Sam it was hard to tell for sure. He’d forgotten just how much she disliked talking on the phone.
Picturing her with the stupid nose ring, he smiled. Seeing her again and catching up was going to be pure, uncomplicated fun.
2
SAM LEANED AGAINST the wall, staring out the window of the smart apartment from an angle so Matt couldn’t see her when he finally arrived.
If he arrived. But of course he was coming, because he’d said so. She’d hate to think she’d gone through the crazy whirlwind of deciding what to wear for nothing. Good Lord, she must’ve tried on everything in her closet, avoiding the sweatshirts, T-shirts and leggings that made up most of her wardrobe. She wanted to look good for Matt. But the few dresses she owned for wearing to conferences and business meetings made her feel like an impostor when she put them on.
So Sam had compromised. Business slacks with her nicest San Diego Comic-Con T-shirt. She’d had the shirt for a long time, but it would be new to Matt. It was blue with long sleeves. She’d tried pushing those up, but her arm freckles made the decision to wear them down very easy. Still, it was a good hair day and she was thankful for small favors.
Now it was all she could do not to run back home and put on a sweatshirt and leggings. What had she been thinking?
Ha. As if she didn’t know. Matt was coming. Today. Any minute. So she could give him the key. Which meant she’d slept like shit. When Clark had offered to give him the key, she’d immediately said no. He’d seemed agitated. Probably because it meant she wouldn’t be working. But screw it. SOC was her company, and she could take a few hours off if she wanted to.
Or maybe Clark wasn’t piqued because she wouldn’t be working but because of why she wouldn’t be working. Did he not like Matt? Huh. She’d have to think about that. Was it because she’d worn her dress pants? Did Clark think she was selling out? Trying to be someone she wasn’t? The fact that she turned into an idiot when she was around Matt wasn’t anything new in her life, and Clark had no doubt caught on. Her crush had lasted a really long time.
Clark might be upset at her foolishness, and she couldn’t fault his logic. Especially when she considered that Matt wouldn’t care what she wore.
She shouldn’t have cared, either. But she had the feeling Matt would look spiffy and handsome as hell and she hadn’t wanted to— Something caught her eye at the window. Oh, God. Matt. He was here. Getting out of a taxi—
Not a town car. Most of his family lived here. Their corporate office was located downtown. She hadn’t expected a taxi.
Or for her reaction to be this bad.
How had her mouth already dried up? Her heart had been pounding since she’d seen him in her peripheral vision. For heaven’s sake, butterflies and panic were battling to the death in her chest. Why hadn’t she just let Clark give him the damn key?
Matt was taking his time. Checking out the brownstones that lined the street before taking the shady brick walkway that led to the apartment. He looked like her Matt, but different, too. Broader of chest, certainly. He seemed taller, but she doubted that was true. Maybe his black jeans and gray V-neck sweater made him appear taller than the six foot one she knew he was. His jacket was dark, maybe suede, and looked as if it would be nice to curl up against.
Not that she would be curling up against anyone.
Even his luggage looked sharp. And—wow—he’d brought a lot. An extra-large suitcase on wheels and a brown garment bag. Was he planning to stay until winter?
Just as he was reaching the front door, she realized she’d been squeezing the key so hard it had left a deep groove in her hand. The hand he’d want to shake. No, he’d want a hug.
She hadn’t considered—
The sound of the doorbell made her jump. Oh, this was going to be a load of fun. Why was she stressing so much? This was Matt. They were practically brother and sister. Except for that one time... Shit. Why did she have to think of that?
She needed to concentrate on breathing. And trying not to pass out. After a long, deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door.
Holy crap. Matt’s brown eyes and perfectly shaped mouth were the same, yet he was so much better-looking than she’d remembered. A man now, not a boy. And the smile he gave her sent shivers through her body. She knew that grin. It changed his face. He could look really serious and foreboding if he wanted to, but when he whipped out that grin, he became a tease, a wink, a promise.
“Wow,” he said, his voice lower, maybe not. “You look great.”
“Me?” She pointed at him. “You—”
“Look the same, just old.” He paused, waited. “Mind if I come in?”
“Of course.” She quickly stood aside. And she wasn’t disappointed that there’d been no hug. Hugs were overdone. They hadn’t seen each other for years. She closed the door, focusing on the image of his smile, even as she understood it would haunt her dreams for ages.
* * *
MATT LEFT HIS LUGGAGE off to the side and watched Sam turn in her Comic-Con shirt, with her copper-colored hair shifting over her shoulders. She was a woman now, beautifully sculpted with curves that hadn’t been there when he’d last seen her. But that shirt? That was pure Sammy.
He couldn’t get over it. The pictures online hadn’t done her justice at all. She didn’t have prom-queen beauty—that wasn’t Sam. She could stand to put on a couple of pounds and her smile was a little crooked, but she had amazing green eyes that lit up like firecrackers. Standing there in front of him was everything he’d always liked about Sammy, with the addition of womanly grace that only time and experience could bring.
He couldn’t wait another moment. “Come here,” he said, holding his arms out, taking the first step.
A blush stole over her cheeks but she came willingly, and then she was in his arms. A second later, hers went around his waist, under his jacket.
It wasn’t the MIT hug he was used to.
They’d never pressed this close, never hung on for beat after beat of his quickening heart. Damn, she smelled good.
He pulled back. She released him instantly, but he wasn’t quite ready to abandon ship. He held on to her shoulders and gave her a head-to-toe inspection.
“Logan was right. You’ve turned into a stunner.”
Her brows, a little darker than her hair, came together as she frowned and took a half step back. “You don’t have to say that stuff to me, Matt. I don’t need to be flattered.”
“You think I wasn’t being sincere?”
“No. I mean, I know I’m okay. But I’m not— I’m in shape because I think better when I’m running. It’s not about...anything else.”
“I’m glad you’re fit, but I wasn’t lying. I think you’re beautiful, and that’s just the truth.”
“Okay,” she said as the blush darkened. “That’s fair enough. I think you’re beautiful, too.”
He laughed. “I think the word you were looking for was handsome? I hope?”
“Fine. Handsome. Hot as hell. Drop-dead gorgeous. Mouthwatering—”
“Okay. That’s enough.” Matt laughed, mostly at himself. How could he have forgotten her quirky tendency to drive them all nuts with the thesaur
us in her brain. “Hey,” he said, giving her another once-over. “You’re taller. By a lot. When did that happen?”
Sam looked confused and then dropped her gaze to her toes, peeking out from under the hem of her slacks. “I’m wearing heels,” she said and then lifted her right leg to show him the proof. “Anyway...” She stuck out her hand. The key rested in her palm. “Here’s the key.”
Matt accepted it, wondering why she suddenly seemed so nervous.
She moved back and turned in a jerky motion. “This is it,” she said, gesturing widely. “It’s still a prototype. I’m working out the kinks.” She took off walking down the hall and he lagged a few seconds behind until she reached the junction of kitchen and living room. “The fridge and pantry are fully stocked. Feel free to use or consume anything.”
She picked up some brochure from the kitchen counter. “You’ll find everything you need in here, including chefs who will come here to cook or have something made-to-order delivered. The masseur is terrific, especially his sports massage. I know you know Boston, but there are a bunch of delivery menus by the pantry. And if you have any problems or questions—”
“You’ve used this masseur?”
“What?” Sam frowned. “Of course not.”
“You said he was terrific.”
“I could find out which doctor you should use if you had an enlarged prostate. It doesn’t mean I have personal experience.”
Matt let out a laugh. He’d missed this. She never had thought like everyone else. Thank goodness that hadn’t changed. “Point taken.”
“As I was saying, if you have any questions, just call the office. Clark knows this place inside and out.”
Confused, he looked down at the brochure she’d shoved into his hand. When he lifted his gaze again, he realized she was about to leave. Three steps away, he nabbed her wrist. “What? Where are you going? I want you to show me around, not give me some brochure.”
