He scowled. “Believe me, he’s not the nice man you think, Maddie.”
She waited and hoped he’d say more, but he’d shut down tighter than an airport in a blizzard. If he expected them not to talk about what happened tonight, he’d brought the wrong woman to London.
“Jack, we all have flaws. Yours is a reckless streak that makes you very good at what you do.”
“Your point?”
She stopped and waited until he looked at her. “Your father is no doubt imperfect, but he loves you.”
The dark look got darker still and his blue eyes glittered with something dangerous. “And you got that from an observation?”
“No. I got it when he told you it’s been a long time.”
“I’m not following,” he said, shaking his head.
“That meant he’s missed you.”
“Oh, really?” He leaned forward.
“Yes, really. And when he said you’ve done well, that meant he’s proud of you.”
“I had no idea you were gifted in reading between the lines.”
“It’s easy to read between the lines when one isn’t emotionally involved,” she told him. She set her fork down on her empty plate.
“And you think I am?”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s your father. You love him and he loves you.”
“And you know this—how?”
“When you abruptly announced it was time to go, he tried to get you to change your mind.”
“Translation?”
“I love you. I’ve missed you. I’m not ready for you to leave so soon.”
He laughed, but the sound was bitter and harsh and completely humorless. “Not that I buy into such a lunatic theory,” he said, “but how do you know this?”
“My father.” She pushed her plate aside. “He used to tell me I looked like a college football quarterback and I found that fairly offensive as I prided myself on being feminine.”
“And doing a fine job.”
There was that gleam in his eyes again as he let his gaze boldly roam over her. Along with the compliment, it produced a warm glow in the wasteland of her heart. She wished she could blame the feeling on the wine, but that simply explained the buzz. This sensation was so much more. It was all that attention zeroed in on her. It was exciting. It was scary. It was a stepping-stone to heartbreak.
“I complained to my mother and she explained it was approval. That he was actually saying that I’m trim and fit.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Jack’s gaze lowered for a fraction of a second.
His attention was more than scary. It made her want to run but she wouldn’t because she’d be humiliated and Jack would win. She forced herself not to look away. “That’s when I started translating male speak,” she explained.
“Fascinating.”
“I’m convinced your father was trying to reach out—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He stood abruptly. “Did you leave room for pie? I had it made specially. Let’s have it in the sitting area.” He took one of the pieces on a dessert plate and walked over to the sofa.
And just like that the conversation was over. “All right.”
She took the other piece of pie and followed him. The suite, ironically enough, was decorated in the color of money. Thick jade carpet cushioned her bare feet and furniture covered in varying shades of green was arranged in a conversation area on one wall. Maddie sat on the sofa at a right angle to him and concentrated on eating her dessert.
“This is really delicious. Almost as good as my sister Susie’s. The whipped cream is to die for,” she said, closing her eyes. Memories of a past holiday flitted through her mind and she started to laugh.
“What?” Jack set his untouched pie on the table, then rested his arm on the end of the sofa.
“I was just remembering the time my mother caught us squirting the whipped cream straight from the can into our mouths.”
“A hanging offense if I ever heard one.” This teasing man was more like the New York Jack.
Relaxing, she set her plate with half the pie uneaten beside his, then curled up on the love seat. “It’s funny now, but my mother was not amused.” She rested her chin in her palm as she looked at him. “Do you remember what your favorite Christmas present was?”
He grinned. “A bike. Top of the line. I’d been lusting after it for months. Cut a picture out of a catalogue and hung it in my room. What about you?”
“A doll house. With furniture.” She sighed. “It was—”
“What?”
“You’ll think it’s silly.”
“No, I won’t,” he vowed. “Give me a chance to screw up before you make me guilty.”
“You’ve got a point,” she agreed. “Okay. It was that tweener time—”
“Excuse me?”
“That time between when you believe in Santa Claus and when you suspect the truth. I wanted to believe, but I’d heard the ugly rumors.”
“Gossip does spread.”
“I was like you and the bike, wanting that doll house so badly it was all I could think about. But I knew my parents couldn’t afford much that year. My sister got braces. We needed a new car. Money was tight.” And why was she spilling her guts? It wasn’t what she and Jack did. But she’d started this. “Anyway, I decided to go see Santa with my younger brother, Dan.”
“Dan was a believer?”
“Yeah. But he was intimidated by the beard and suit. I sat on Santa’s lap to coax him into it. Mom wanted a picture.”
“And you told Santa what you wanted?” he guessed.
“On the off chance that he was magic, I sort of whispered it in his ear.” She shrugged and self-consciously toyed with a strand of hair. “Pretty silly, huh?”
“On the contrary—” He reached over and put his hand on hers.
The touch was warm, strong, sweet, and stopped her heart. It could have been the wine, the buzz, or sharing a suite with Jack, but the feel of his hand on hers was like a punch to the gut and it took two deep breaths to get everything moving again.
That had never happened before.
“Did you get it?”
“What?” she asked.
“The doll house?”
“Oh. No. Anyway—” she eased her hand from beneath his “—tell me about your bike.”
“It was blue. And it didn’t come from Santa,” he teased.
“I knew you thought I was being silly. It’s very sad when you have to grow up.”
“It is, yes.” He looked at her, an odd expression on his face. “If you still believed, what would you ask Santa for this year?”
“Florence,” she said.
“Who?”
“Not who,” she said, laughing. “Italy. I’ve always wanted to go there.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure why. I’ve seen pictures, but I just have a feeling it’s one of those places you have to see with your own eyes.”
“Who knows? Maybe Santa will make it happen.”
“Maybe.”
When he smiled, the scary exciting feeling came back with a one/two punch. It was time to call it a night before she said something else she’d regret.
“I’m exhausted. Funny how sitting for hours on a plane can do that. I think the traveling has caught up with me.”
Amusement disappeared from his eyes, replaced by what looked like regret. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I shouldn’t have made you travel on Christmas. You had plans. With someone special?”
“Yes.” Not quite a lie; her friends were special. “But it’s okay. Actually, this turned out to be a nice holiday after all.”
The brooding look was back, as if he were remem bering the ghosts of Christmas past. Quite frankly she’d never seen a man more in need of a hug.
He stood and held out his hand. When she took it, he tugged her to her feet and into his arms. They were pressed together from chest to knee and it felt really good. If he hadn’t looked so lonely, she might have been able to re
sist but she couldn’t help herself. She put her arms around his neck and held him close.
“No matter what you think,” she said, “your family was happy to see you.”
“I’ll take your word for that.”
She looked up and his eyes flared with something hot as his gaze settled on her mouth. Was he going to kiss her?
She held her breath, suddenly wanting to feel his lips on hers more than she’d ever wanted anything—including that doll house. But she didn’t dare toy with Jack.
He looked at her for a long moment, before lowering his head to settle his mouth on hers. One soft touch and her breathing went from zero to ragged in a heartbeat. He tightened his arms around her, fitting her body more closely to his, setting off sparks inside her. The needy moan trapped in her throat threatened to make her go up in flames. This was a place she’d never been before and didn’t want to ever leave.
But this was Jack. Her boss.
She would never know how she managed to find the willpower and presence of mind to pull her mouth from his and disentangle herself from his arms. “It’s time to turn in.”
That breathless, needy voice couldn’t really be hers, could it?
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Merry Christmas, Maddie.”
“Same to you, Jack.”
She hurried into her room and shut the door, heart pounding as if the devil were after her. The devil in the form of Jack Valentine? She’d certainly seen his dark side, a side she hadn’t known he had. A side she’d have been better off never finding out he had because she was drawn to it. The dark side was what made her hug him. And that led to…
She leaned against the door and pressed her fingers to her still-tingling lips. If only it hadn’t been a good kiss. But it was without a doubt the best kiss she’d ever had.
Now she hoped there wouldn’t be the devil to pay.
Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
ALL Maddie had wanted was a dreamless sleep and to wake up and have the old Jack back. She hadn’t seen him yet, and she could say the same thing for sleep thanks to that kiss. After two years, why now? And what did it mean? Probably nothing. By sheer numbers, the women in his life proved that. Maddie wanted more. Jack teased her about the men she dated, but she’d never hear the end of it if he found out she was a virgin.
Her current state of purity had everything to do with crappy judgment in men. She’d fallen head over heels once, with a bad boy of course. She’d almost given him what she’d been saving for marriage but had found out just in time that he’d bet his buddies he could get her into bed. He’d lost the bet.
So now her taste in men leaned toward the ones who showed no obvious signs of bad boy-it-is—no earrings, tattoos or long hair. The problem was she didn’t want to sleep with any of them either. Up until last night, Jack hadn’t tempted her but she couldn’t let a nothing kiss change anything because he didn’t want a permanent relationship.
She looked in the full-length mirror on the closet door to check her appearance, then gathered up her notes on the dresser beside Jack’s gift. She’d forgotten to give it to him yesterday so she grabbed it, too. The door separating her room from the shared living space was in front of her and she tried to tell herself that this was no different from going to the office in Manhattan every day.
But herself didn’t buy the lie because she knocked once. She never knocked when she entered her office. “Ready or not, here I come.”
“I’m ready.” Jack was sitting on the sofa where he’d been last night. His laptop was on the coffee table and in the dining room there was an array of food ranging from scrambled eggs and bacon to pastries, croissants and fruit.
“This is very nice of you, Jack,” she said, looking at the spread.
“I’m a nice man.”
Like his father. But he wouldn’t want to hear that and he was looking like the old Jack. No need to bring out the dangerous side of him that thrilled the part of her susceptible to his type.
She set her notes and his gift down on the coffee table and helped herself to eggs, a croissant and fruit, as well as a cup of coffee. Moving back to the sitting area, she took the same space she’d occupied the night before and settled the plate in her lap and the coffee on the table.
She picked up the gift and held it out. “Here. This was in my suitcase. I didn’t get a chance to give it to you last night.”
He hesitated to take it. “Maddie, I— You shouldn’t have.”
“Why? We exchange gifts.” She took a bite of croissant, then a forkful of eggs.
“That’s just it. I—”
“You left my visa gift card in New York?”
“Well, yes,” he admitted. “I don’t have anything for you to open.”
“It’s all right. You brought me to London.”
“Under protest.”
“About that,” she said.
“What?” His gaze narrowed suspiciously.
“I may have slightly exaggerated my plans with that someone special.”
One dark eyebrow lifted questioningly. “And yet you were still annoyed.”
“Besides the whining, how do you figure?”
He held up the plain-wrapped package. “No dangling candy canes. Or snowmen. No cute little santas or reindeer.” He shook it gently as he studied the wrapping. “And the paper isn’t shiny.”
Yet another Jack Valentine revealed. He noticed and remembered how she wrapped Christmas packages. That was endearing and she’d never figured him for the endearing type. It was information that wouldn’t help to snuff out her emerging and disturbing feelings. But he had apologized for spoiling her plans so the least she could do was be gracious.
“I was annoyed at your timing, Jack. And the fact that you think you can say jump and I’ll ask how high. But I’m over it now. I sincerely mean that. Now open your present.”
He ripped off the paper and nudged up the lid on the box, then lifted out the eight and a half by eleven butter-soft leather portfolio with his initials embossed in the bottom right corner. His gaze jumped to hers. “This is beautiful, Maddie.”
“And it’s personalized so you can’t take it back,” she pointed out. She finished her fruit.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He looked sheepish and darned if it wasn’t charming. “This makes me feel even worse about not giving you a gift. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Not necessary. You promised me London.”
“Thank you for this,” he said, then set it on the table beside the laptop. “So, let’s get to work. Old business first.”
“Okay.” She set her empty plate aside, then took a sip of lukewarm coffee before handing him the file on a software company they’d been nurturing. “They just signed a deal for shelf space in one of the country’s largest office supply stores.”
He scanned the notes, then looked through the spreadsheet. “Excellent. The internet sales are good, too.”
“Yes. The company is performing better than we expected.”
“I see that.” He looked through every file. The results were all positive.
“Good work, Maddie.” He put the folders on the table. “What else have you got?”
“We had twenty proposals submitted and I whittled them down to five for market evaluation. I have the top three for you to look at.”
He took the first file she handed him and read carefully. “Mothers of Invention.”
“I’d like to start a company to market the creations of problem-solving mothers.”
His gaze captured her own but she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. “Mothers who solve problems?”
“You sound surprised by the concept.”
He just shrugged in reply. The brooding look was now back and Maddie decided not to ask any further questions. If anything, it was silly to be disappointed that he didn’t elaborate. Knowing more had made her hug him. And he’d kissed her. It would be better not to know more. She needed to concentrate on business and forget
the dangerous man she’d glimpsed last night.
She cleared her throat. “As you’ll see in my notes, the items range from videos that entertain toddlers, a gizmo that prevents said unentertained toddlers from unrolling a toilet-paper roll, to the obsessive compulsive mother who created a washable fabric cover for a grocery cart.”
“These are problems?”
“For the average mom,” she clarified.
“What about the ones who aren’t average?” he said, still inspecting her report. But the muscle in his jaw contracted.
Did he mean above or below average? His frown made her wonder again what he was thinking. Something about his own mother? And again she reminded herself this was business, not personal. Up till now they’d concentrated heavily in the technological market and this was an area they hadn’t tapped into yet. Diversification was good—in business. There was a lot of wisdom in not putting all your eggs into one basket. In love? She didn’t want diversification and Jack was a master on the subject.
“Rather than investing in a single item,” she said, “it occurred to me that one company with a line of unusual items to address the nagging chores and concerns of motherhood would be fresh and original.”
“I agree,” he said. “Pull it all together.”
“Okay.” She made notes to herself before handing over another file. “Here’s one I thought would appeal to your inner technological geek.”
“Cell phone central,” he said, nodding as he looked it over.
“It adds even more functions to a device most people are already carrying. I’ve had it analyzed by our expert gadget guy and he says it looks promising.”
Jack nodded and made notes in the new portfolio she’d given him for Christmas. “Whatever you think.”
That was what she’d figured he’d say. Nine times out of ten he approved her ideas, and it pleased her. She handed over a file with the last of her recommendations. This was another area where Valentine Ventures had yet to venture. She’d met with the young entrepreneur and his enthusiasm was contagious. She’d assured him that Jack’s go-ahead was in the bag.
Crazy About The Boss Page 3
