by Nita Wick
Haley dug in her heels. “I’m on my way to M.E.D. now. If he wants to talk to me, I’d rather do it face to face.”
Surprise etched Meg’s features. “You’re going to his office?”
With a quick nod, Haley pulled her arm from Meg’s clutches. “I have to drop off some drawings for Mr. Miller. I’m sure I’ll see Michael while I’m there.”
The range of emotions playing across Meg’s face became animated. Surprise changed to confusion. “What kind of drawings would you have for Mr. Miller? Are you an architect?”
Guilt at not having been honest with Meg spurred her confession. “No, I’m an interior designer. I’m doing the décor for the lobby of the law office Michael designed.”
“But M.E.D. has interior designers. Why would they need you? Did Michael get you the job? I don’t understand.”
Haley rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled by the memory of how this particular job had started. “I had lunch with Michael and Carla last Monday. They were having trouble pleasing Mr. Maynor, and I tried to help with the design. That’s when Michael got so angry with me.”
“Why?”
“Because he realized who I was when I started working on the design.” Haley bit her lip. “Meg, I used to be one of the most sought-after interior designers in the country—maybe even the world. I had international clients—very rich clients. Your brother recognized my name when we met, but I told him it was just a coincidence. I lied to him about who I was.”
“No wonder he was ticked. Not only did you lie to him, but you made a fool out of him.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Haley defended. “I was going to tell him.”
“Did you tell him about your house?”
She shook her head, her heart aching. “I didn’t get a chance. Mr. Miller interrupted our argument.”
Meg reached out and covered Haley’s hand. “I can see you regret it. Tell him you’re sorry. He’s still pissed, but mostly because you haven’t called him. He’ll calm down if you apologize. Trust me on this. I’ve been on the receiving end of my brother’s temper too many times to count. He’ll forgive you.”
Haley found herself enveloped in a tight hug. The gesture shook her. After being utterly friendless and alone for months, she’d forgotten what it was like to be comforted. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am. I know my brother. And I know how he feels about you.” She released her hold and shoved the envelope into Haley’s hands. “You keep this. Brentwood is too far away to suit Michael.”
* * * *
Haley pulled the heavy leather portfolio from the trunk and stared at the front door of M.E.D. Michael would be inside.
She tucked the portfolio under her arm, closed the trunk, and smoothed the skirt of the dove-gray business suit she wore. After she gave the proposal drawings to Mr. Miller, she would ask to see Michael. It had been a week. He should have had time to deal with his anger.
Haley stopped at the desk. Sue used the telephone intercom to alert Mr. Miller.
“Good, good. Send her back, Sue.” Haley heard Mr. Miller’s voice through the phone’s earpiece though she stood several feet away.
Sue smiled and gave her directions to the owner’s office. Haley followed the main hall to the very end and turned into the open door of a large office decorated in heavy wood antiques. An oriental rug covered the stone tile flooring. Mr. Miller sat behind a huge, dark monstrosity that served as his desk.
He stood and motioned for her to come farther into the office. “Good afternoon, Miss Preston.”
“Hello, Mr. Miller. I have the design panels for your team to study.” She opened the portfolio and withdrew the poster-sized drawings. “I’m sure they will find these have sufficient detail, but to make certain there is no confusion, I’ve also made a list of paint colors and specific fabrics used.” She leaned the drawings against an overstuffed leather chair and retrieved the folder with her list from the side pocket of the portfolio.
“Excellent!” Mr. Miller moved around the desk. “But please, Miss Preston, let’s put these up where we can see them.” He took the drawings to the far wall. Polished wood bookshelves lined the wall, but a display tray ran the length of the shelf about halfway up. With great care, he balanced each drawing on the ledge.
He stepped back and examined her work. Haley moved across the room to stand next to him. There had been a time when Haley would have held her breath waiting for the client’s reaction. Once she’d been an amateur with a vision—hopes and dreams of making a name for herself. She’d done that in spades.
Now as she stood next to Mr. Miller, she had no doubt he would love her design. It was good. Damn good. She remained silent, waiting for his opinion.
Footsteps echoed off the tile in the hall. They drew closer with each step and stopped directly behind her near the vicinity of the office door. Haley’s breath caught. A warm, tingling sensation ran down her spine. She didn’t need to turn around to know who stood at the door.
Chapter Eleven
Haley took a deep breath and reminded herself to be professional. Without looking back, she called to him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Flannery. Would you like to see the design proposal?”
Mr. Miller turned his head to look at her. His gaze drifted past her then back. “How did you know it was Flannery?”
The question stunned her? How could she explain it? “I…” She searched for an answer. None came, so she posed a question of her own. “Are we expecting someone else?”
“Actually, yes. Mr. Maynor asked to be notified when you arrived. He should be here shortly. He wants to meet you.” Mr. Miller waved to Michael. “Come on over here, Flannery, and take a look at these.”
Haley gathered her courage and turned to watch Michael’s approach. His eyes burned with green fire, but his expression held not even a hint of his thoughts. He crossed the room, his unreadable stare never leaving her face. Michael stopped within inches of her, close enough for her to feel his body heat. He towered over her in silence. Hints of anger flashed in his eyes, but he said nothing.
She couldn’t hold his gaze. It hurt too much to do so. Meg had been wrong. Michael didn’t really want to see her, not unless he wanted to blast her for her lies. Despite the heat he radiated, Haley suffered an icy chill. She rubbed her arms and stared at her drawings.
Neither man said anything for several moments. Mr. Miller moved from one drawing to the next, examining each one with a critical eye. Finally, he addressed Michael. “What do you think?”
Haley peeked up at Michael, anxious of someone’s opinion of her work for the first time in years. Would he like it? Would it meet his expectations?
Michael scanned the display before his gaze met Mr. Miller’s. He offered a curt nod, but anything he might have said was stalled by the arrival of Jackson Maynor.
Mr. Miller met him at the door with an enthusiastic greeting. “Come in, Jackson, and meet Miss Preston.” He made the introductions.
Haley plastered a smile across her face, shook the man’s hand, and pretended she wasn’t miserable. Michael had yet to speak to her, and the quiet but hostile vibe he emanated made her want to seek cover. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Maynor.”
Maynor glanced at the drawings and did a double take. He released Haley’s hand and moved to look more closely at them. “These are incredible,” he said. “Can you really make my office look like this?”
Mr. Miller laughed. “You bet we can. Miss Preston is the consummate pro. She has provided fabric details and color palette hex codes. Everything will be exactly as you see in those drawings.”
Maynor smiled and returned his attention to the sketches. “Amazing. This is even better than I imagined.” He nodded. “The critics are right, Miss Preston. You are the best interior designer in the country.”
Haley swallowed the lump in her throat. I used to be. “Thank you.” Unable to stand Michael’s silence and enmity any longer, she stepped to the chair to grab her portfolio and purse. “I need to be going. When
will the building be ready for the design team?” she asked Mr. Miller.
He rubbed his chin. “Next week some time, I believe.”
She peeked at Michael before answering. He regarded her with narrowed eyes. She resisted the urge to frown at him and returned her gaze to Mr. Miller. “I’ll call you next Monday to arrange an on-site meeting with your team. Until then, they should study the sketches and order the necessary materials.” She moved to leave, all too aware that Michael followed.
Mr. Maynor stopped her. “Wait, Miss Preston. I wanted to speak to you about something.”
Haley clenched her jaw and tried to hide her irritation. “Yes?”
“Ed here says you did the design in return for a donation to Hospitality House.”
She nodded.
“I want to help, too. Here’s my idea. We arrange an open house debut. Black tie, champagne, caviar. Everything high class. We charge two hundred dollars a ticket and donate the proceeds to Hospitality House.” He waited for her reaction.
“That sounds like a fine idea, Mr. Maynor. I—”
“You’ll do it, then?”
Confused, she shook her head. “Do what?”
“The publicity, the media. Interviews. No one will pay two hundred dollars a ticket unless they know you’re the one who did the interior design. And they’ll want to meet you. You’ll have to attend the event.”
Panic gripped her. The last thing she wanted was to find her name splashed across tabloid and newspaper headlines again. She took a step back and bumped into Michael. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through her and increased her already racing pulse. “Oh, no, I don’t think—”
Mr. Miller interrupted. “You know he’s right, Miss Preston. Charitable event or not, there will be very little interest and, in turn, very little money raised without someone of your celebrity status associated with it.”
“But—”
Michael’s warm breath hit her ear just before his whispered growl. “Don’t you think it’s time you stopped hiding?”
The condemnation in his voice hurt. She batted away the tears stinging her eyes. Yes, she’d been hiding—hiding from the media, hiding from everyone in New York, hiding from herself, and hiding from the truth. Haley Preston was a coward. She swallowed hard. What did it matter anyway? The truth about who she was and her past humiliation couldn’t be hidden forever. Wasn’t her all-too-short relationship with Michael proof of that?
In defeat, she surrendered. “Fine.”
Maynor smiled. “We’ll set up a press conference immediately. When are you available?”
“No, I won’t be available for the press.” She clutched her purse and portfolio to her chest. “You can use my name, show some of my previous designs, whatever you want. I’ll attend the event, but that’s all.”
Mr. Miller argued, “That’s not enough, Miss Preston.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose to ease her budding headache. “Oh, but it is. Don’t you see? The more unavailable and elusive I am, the more attention you’ll get. Everyone—the press in particular—will be falling all over themselves to find out where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing since I left New York. The moment you release my name, the paparazzi and rag sheet journalists will descend like vultures. The last time my name was in the gossip sheets, they were speculating that I’d checked myself into some kind of rehab clinic.”
She sighed, straightened her spine, and took a step toward the door. “Mr. Maynor, your open house will be the most highly anticipated and well-attended event since last year’s Alabama-Tennessee football game. But only if I remain invisible until that night.”
Ed Miller laughed and clasped Mr. Maynor on the shoulder. “The woman is as smart as she is talented, Jackson. She’s right. No one can resist a mystery.”
Haley took another step toward the door. Her heart stopped as a hand gripped her elbow.
“I’ll see Miss Preston out.” Michael’s deep voice brooked no argument.
Michael ushered her forward, all but dragging her down the hall, the grip on her elbow relentless. Rather than heading toward the front door, he turned left down another corridor and pulled her into an office. He shut the door behind them and turned to her. With a sneer, he snatched her portfolio and purse from her and tossed them on the sofa. Haley backed away from him until her back touched the door. She reached for the handle, uncertain of whether it was safe to stay in the room with him. His fit of temper when he learned she’d lied had been nothing compared to fury he exhibited now. She feared for the office furniture. He could very well start throwing things any minute. Oddly enough, she realized, she wasn’t afraid for her person. She may not trust him with heart, but she’d seen how he treated his mother and sister. He would never physically hurt a woman. She’d bet her life on it.
His dark countenance no longer void of expression, Michael’s anger etched his every feature. He stood toe to toe with her, looming over her. “Where the hell were you?”
His gruff tone increased her alarm, but she fought back. “Excuse me? What gives you the right to—” She cringed as he smacked his palms against the door on either side of her head.
His nostrils flared. “Don’t fuck with me, Haley! My patience ran out days ago.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Pain? No matter how quickly the emotion was swallowed by his anger, she couldn’t ignore what she’d seen. “Brentwood. My parents’ house,” she confessed.
He closed his eyes. “I didn’t know you still owned the place.”
She shrugged. “Well, I do. All my stuff is there, my drafting tools, my art supplies. I needed them to do the design.”
His eyes opened again, but fury still boiled in their green depths. “Why didn’t you call?” he snarled, each word clipped and harsh.
Surprise left her speechless. “I…” She licked her lips. “I wanted to, but I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”
He sucked in a deep breath and released it in a rumbling growl. His hands grasped her head, and his mouth slammed down on hers, demanding, punishing.
She tensed but only for an instant. Despite the ire driving the kiss, an underlying desperation tugged her senses and begged to be sated. He wanted her, needed her. She raised her hands, buried them in his hair, and kissed him back, their tongues and mouths dueling, fighting for dominance and control.
He groaned into her mouth and slid his arms down her sides, over her hips and lower. The anger in his kiss relented to the passion, but his lips never left hers.
Warm palms pressed against the bare skin on the back of her thighs between the tops of her stockings and the silk of her panties. She realized he’d lifted her skirt just before his hands moved higher. The sound of fabric ripping splintered the silence, and cool air met the bare skin of her bottom as her panties fell away.
Haley whimpered against his lips and pressed her aching breasts to his chest.
A zipper hissed.
He lifted her against the cold, wooden door and broke the kiss. “Wrap your legs around me,” he demanded.
Defiance was not an option. She needed him inside her. With a quick, smooth motion, she obeyed. Her thighs hugged his hips. His erection nudged her opening for only a second before he thrust inside. She moaned, the pleasure too much to bear. Sweet, hot friction discharged electrical currents of pure joy through her body.
Fast and hard, his pace heightened her senses and drove her mad with need and desire. She kissed him, teased his lips and tongue—tasted that delicious essence she’d missed so much. In mere moments her body reached a perfect place of ecstasy. She arched against him, and his mouth muffled her cry of satisfaction.
The whisper of her name preceded a shudder that shook them both. Haley’s lungs heaved with the effort to catch her breath. His vise-like grip around her torso hampered her ability to take in air, but she loved it. Michael’s arms held her.
He lifted his head from where it rested on her shoulder and stared into her eyes. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?
”
“No,” she whispered.
“We need to talk.”
Unsure of how to answer, she simply nodded.
He lifted her away from him and offered support until she was steady on her feet. A brush of his lips across her temple nearly undid her, the tender gesture bringing tears to her eyes. God, how she’d missed him.
Michael straightened his clothes and retrieved her mutilated panties from the floor. A brief grimace crossed his face as he walked to the desk with them. He stuffed the scrap of silk in his pocket and opened his desk drawer. Moving back to her, he offered her cell phone. “The battery is dead. I left it on, hoping you’d call.”
She finished straightening her own clothing and took the phone from him. “Thank you.”
He rescued her portfolio and purse from the sofa and handed them to her. “Let’s get out of here.”
Haley followed him, avoiding eye contact with the secretary as they passed. Once outside Michael guided her to the left with a hand at her back. She resisted. “My car is over there.”
“You can ride with me.” He pressed her forward.
“But I’m parked at a meter. They’ll tow my car,” she protested.
His jaw tightened. “Fine. We’ll take your car. Give me the keys.” He held out his hand.
“Why don’t I just follow you?”
He gave her a deprecating smirk. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, babe. Give me the keys.”
She frowned, pulled the keys from her purse, and slapped them in his hand.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t say another word during the drive. Haley peeked at him several times, but he kept his attention on the road. After about fifteen minutes, they pulled into a small condominium complex.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“My condo.” Volunteering no additional information, he exited the car and strode around the front to open her door.
In silence, he led her to an apartment door, unlocked it, and motioned for her to enter. An overstuffed, brown leather sofa dominated the front room. A matching recliner sat adjacent to it, facing a big, flat-screen television. Cream-colored blinds covered the windows and a brown and cream area rug covered a portion of the wood floor.
