My One And Only

by MacKenzie Taylor

  She chuckled, then continued. "Last year Harrison was going to see if he could arrange some lessons for her with a pastry chef. I had to threaten him within an inch of his—" She stopped suddenly and dropped her hands into her lap. "Sorry. I get a little carried away."

  "You're very proud of her."

  "Yes. It hasn't been… easy."

  "I can imagine."

  "I wish she'd known Mother and Dad."

  The wistful note in her voice did Ethan in. Courage, depth, passion, grace; Abby was the complete package. And at that precise moment, he realized with a bit of a shock, he wanted her to long for him so deeply that she'd have that same note in her voice when she thought about him.

  He didn't even dare take the time to analyze the intensity of his desire. For the space of a few heartbeats, he let restraint war heavily with it. Hunger was beginning to surge through the vault. Anger he was used to. Exhilaration, passion, even desire had occasionally gotten the better of him, but this gnawing hunger was new. And if he took the time to think about it, it would scare the hell out of him. He was tired, he told himself, and Abby represented something he'd left behind when he'd walked away from Harrison Montgomery. Naturally, he found her intriguing. This explanation satisfied him. He thrust the anxious feeling aside with the determination and skilled precision of a knight dropping his visor into place as he prepared to charge into battle. "You're nervous," he said softly, "aren't you?"

  "Wouldn't you be?"

  Did he mistake the slight intake of breath? "Depends."

  "Six thousand people are about to lose their jobs. If I can't convince you to help—" She was clutching her fingers in her lap now. "It's a lot of pressure."

  "I'm not talking about Harrison or his company. I think you know that."

  "I don't—"

  "Do I make you nervous, Abby?" he asked quietly.

  "No."

  No hesitation there, he saw. He raised an eyebrow. She shook her head. "You look like you don't believe me," she told him. "You don't make me nervous."

  "That's a very good thing."

  "I'd say the feeling I have is more like the slowest and fattest gazelle in the herd who knows the panther just woke up and realized he was hungry."

  His lips twitched. "I'm not sure I'd have used 'fattest' and 'slowest'…"

  "So you're more diplomatic than I am. How am I supposed to respond to statements like 'I'm doing this for you?' "

  She hadn't forgotten. He put that piece of information in the Positive column of his growing balance sheet of this conversation. "You didn't actually think I'd do it for Harrison?"

  "I don't know what I thought."

  "You're probably the only person alive who could stand the man for as long as you have," he told her. "I'll admit that I'd kind of like to know what the attraction is."

  She didn't flinch. He'd spent the two-hour flight to Chicago mentally ticking off all the reasons that he shouldn't do this. Those reasons had started to crumble the moment she'd opened the door and let him into this warm haven of her life. They now lay in ruin around his Italian leather shoes.

  Abby shifted on the couch so she could tuck her bare feet beneath her jeans-clad legs. She slipped one of those honey-blond curls behind her ear. Every time she did that, it made him jealous. He'd been wanting to get his hands into her hair since he'd seen it confined by a pencil with a chewed-off eraser.

  "It's not like I don't know the man has his flaws, you know."

  "I don't think you're that naive."

  "But it's like Rachel told you tonight. After Mother and Dad were killed, it took months for the insurance to pay out. If Harrison hadn't hired me, social services would have sent Rachel away to foster care."

  "How did you make your way from the mail room to running the Montgomery Foundation?"

  A slight flush stained her cheeks, but the angry glint in her eyes told him fury had caused it, not embarrassment. "I worked hard. I did everything anyone asked me to, and more. I spent as much time as I could learning what MDS does, who we do it with, and how we do it. I studied, I did a lot of jobs nobody else wanted to do, and my managers appreciated it."

  "No doubt."

  "By the time Harrison moved me upstairs, I had already held managerial positions in three departments. When he started the Montgomery Foundation, I was naturally excited by the project."

  The foundation, Ethan knew, supported a number of different charitable ventures, the most notable of which provided financial support, health care, and a variety of social services for Chicago's veterans. Abby's father, Ethan's research had told him, was a veteran of the Vietnam War. Before his death, he'd owned and operated a well-loved restaurant on the waterfront. The unique character of the place had made it a natural gathering spot for veterans to swap war stories and memories.

  Abby had virtually grown up in the restaurant, helping her mother cook and her father serve and entertain. After her parents' death, their vast network of friends had responded to Abby and Rachel's loss with emotional, financial, and practical help. One friend had arranged Abby's fated interview with Harrison Montgomery. Ethan could well imagine why she'd warmed to the idea of being a part of Harrison's benevolence efforts.

  Abby continued. "I asked to be brought on board with the foundation project, and Harrison accommodated me. I worked under the original director, Kaitlin Moses, for a year and a half before I succeeded her. Kaitlin went to Washington to work in the development office for the United Way. By the time she left MDS, no one was better prepared to take over the foundation than I was." Her hands had clenched the side of the chair. "And what ever else I do or don't do for Harrison is no one's damned business."

  Ethan felt the blood begin to pound in his temples. He'd come here tonight prepared for many things. He'd come with an agenda and a plan, and with the sure knowledge that he wanted Abigail Lee. He had also come determined to learn the truth about her relationship with Harrison Montgomery—a relationship heavily rumored to be sexual. But Abby had wide, innocent brown-gold eyes. And Ethan couldn't make sense of a woman who looked guileless yet conducted a ten-year affair with a man like Harrison. He kept his tone deliberately bland when he said, "It's not like the man doesn't have a history of seducing his employees, you know."

  She stared at him for a minute. When she said nothing, he bit out, "My mother worked for him once, too."

  Her face registered a momentary shock, then softened. "I'm sorry." Her eyes mirrored the sentiment. "I didn't think. I've spent a long time fighting the urge to defend myself against people who don't know what they're talking about. At least you have a decent reason to be suspicious."

  He waited. She studied him. In the distance, he could hear the relentless drumming of Rachel's stereo drifting down from her room. The sound matched the throbbing of his head. His hands were fisted against his thighs as he waited for her to say more. She was right. It was none of his business what she did for the man, but he couldn't fight a feeling of repugnance.

  "I don't sleep with him," Abby finally announced. "I've never slept with him."

  The throbbing in his temples abruptly stopped. He sat perfectly still. The simple statement made him feel like a bastard for dragging it out of her. No, he thought with sudden clarity, she'd made him feel that way for even thinking it in the first place. He'd been the victor in this small contest of wills, but the victory had left a sour taste in his mouth. The woman was tying his guts into knots. "People think you do," he said.

  "People are jerks."

  "Does it bother you?"

  "Sometimes. Mostly only when some creep suggests that I wouldn't have my job unless I'd given Harrison a roll in the sack. That's pretty annoying." She pushed her hair over her shoulder.

  "I can see why."

  "At least you didn't accuse me so you could drag it out of me."

  "Harrison has a way of bringing out the worst in me," he said by way of apology.

  She started to reach a hand toward him, then seemed to think better of it. "Look, b
efore I came to see you last week I only had a vague idea of what had happened between you and Harrison. It's like I told you. I tried to discuss it with him a couple of times, but he made it really clear the topic was off limits. And I had no idea he'd called you that day."

  "It was the first time in several years."

  Her gaze shifted to the papers on the coffee table. "If I'd known what you told me…"

  "You believe it?" he pressed, needing to know.

  "I believe that whatever happened, it left you feeling really bitter about him. He might have a few more details to add, but I'm sure the facts are basically true. No one in the family talks about it."

  "Except Carlton, obviously."

  "Carlton is twenty years old and barely even related to the Montgomerys. Letty is Harrison's sister, but Carlton is her stepson."

  "I'm aware of that."

  "I seriously doubt he's got a clue what he was talking about. He's a nice enough kid, but sometimes he acts like he knows more than he really does."

  "Rachel seemed impressed."

  "Rachel is thirteen. She's easily impressed by nice-looking boys these days."

  "I can imagine." He watched her fuss with the papers on the table. "But there are any number of the Montgomerys you could have asked. Why didn't you?"

  "It wasn't any of my business," she said. Her hands stilled on the papers. "I wanted to know once, so I asked Harrison. He made it pretty clear the topic wasn't open for discussion."

  "So you asked me instead."

  "You volunteered, if you recall."

  "And you took my word for it?"

  "Why not? You've got no reason to lie to me."

  That statement probably shouldn't have satisfied him like it did, but he chose not to fight the feeling. "I'm glad you see that."

  "Either way," she went on, "if I'd known, I might not have come to you. I'm not sure. All I know is, Harrison's in trouble. And if I can help him, I want to. But I can understand why you probably want nothing to do with this."

  "So I'm absolved?"

  "What difference does it make?" She shrugged. "My opinion hardly matters."

  Ethan couldn't quite decipher her meaning, so he didn't try. He stuck with the topic he knew. "Harrison has always known he was never going to live up to his father's expectations. Nobody could have."

  "I never met your grandfather."

  "Consider yourself fortunate. He ran that entire family like a terrorist. Harrison never had the guts to stand up to the old man. Montgomery Data Systems is the last tangible link he has to him."

  She nodded. "He's terrified of failure. I'm sure his father did that to him."

  "Montgomery fathers have a way of screwing up their children's lives," Ethan said dryly. "I suppose it's a good thing that none of them stick around for long."

  At his mention of the startling Montgomery divorce rate, Abby looked a little sad. "I've never known a group of unhappier people."

  "And they're all like that. Even the ones you haven't met." The vast Montgomery clan, in his opinion, should be the poster family for dysfunctionalism. With a few notable exceptions, and usually among the "related-by-marriage" set, they were a colossal group of emotional basket cases.

  And when it came to Harrison, Abby was right.

  As the leader of the large clan, he had shouldered the behemoth of the Montgomery legacy at a relatively young age. His autocratic and critical father had died at sixty-two, leaving a forty-year-old Harrison his sprawling financial and personal empires.

  Harrison had always feared disappointing his father. Losing the business would crush him. Ethan wondered why the idea didn't bring him more pleasure. He realized Abby was watching him expectantly. Something about her hopeful expression urged him to appease her. "Even if I wanted to—" he began, then shrugged. "It's probably too late."

  She leaned forward. "Ethan, I know you have every reason to resent the man. He got himself into this mess by making some pretty rotten choices, but I don't think he deserves to lose everything he's worked for. Not if there's a way out."

  "What if there isn't?"

  "You can find one."

  Her rock-solid faith shook Ethan a little. "What makes you think so?"

  "Just a hunch." Abby met his gaze with a frankness that stole his breath. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had looked at him with such honest intent. "You could do it if you wanted to."

  "And why would I want to?"

  Her eyebrows knitted together. "I'm not going to say anything trite about family loyalty, so don't sound so cranky."

  He frowned. "I am not cranky."

  She ignored that. "There are two reasons I can think of that you might agree to take this on. The first is that you'd relish the idea of finally getting even with Harrison by proving that you can accomplish something he can't. The irony of making him rely on you to save his family business might be too tempting to ignore."

  Something about the way she said this made his gut chum. "And the other?" he asked.

  "The other reason is because you'd enjoy the challenge. I saw you last week in your office. I watched the way your staff twitters around you—"

  "Twitters?"

  "Like little drones."

  That had him scowling. "My staff will be delighted to know you think they twitter."

  She made a funny little motion with her fingers that told him she was definitely mocking him. "You speak, they listen. You command and it's done. Your success is astounding. You've gained international recognition as the tycoon who always delivers. As far as I know, you haven't lost a gamble yet."

  "I've lost plenty of them."

  "Not in recent memory, and not any that mattered."

  He didn't respond. Abby rubbed her palms on her thighs. "I saw it that day in the elevator. You're bored."

  "Is that so?" How, he wondered, did she manage to do this to his moods? She could take him from sour to content and back again in the space of a heartbeat.

  "Absolutely. It's obvious in the way you talk about what you do. It's all too easy now, and it's lost its thrill. Besides, it's only been, what—a few weeks since your fiancée broke your engagement?"

  Something inside him went still. "You know about that?"

  "Carlton tells all," she quipped.

  "How comforting."

  She dismissed his sarcasm with a slight wave of her hand. "Whatever. My point is, it hasn't been that long, and from what I can tell, it didn't even affect you."

  "You don't think so?"

  "You don't look affected."

  "Maybe I'm not the histrionic type."

  "Or maybe you were just bored with her as well."

  Too close to the mark, he mused. "Either way, it's not really any of your business."

  "No," she conceded, "not any more than my relationship with your father is any of yours." She looked at him closely. "Unless, of course, your being here has nothing at all to do with wanting revenge on your father."

  Ethan found himself oddly fascinated by the litany. From any other source, it probably would have annoyed him. What squelched his irritation, however, was the sure knowledge that Abby had spent time analyzing him. Lots of time. While he'd been in Prague, distracted by too-frequent memories of her lips and her hair, she'd been in Chicago, clearly distracted by trying to unravel his brain. That effort probably wouldn't have been his first choice, he admitted, but he found it gratifying to know that she, too, had been unable to forget their encounter. Things were definitely looking up. He steepled his fingers under his chin and did his damnedest to hide a smile. "Why do you think I'm here, Abby?"

  "I think you're here because the idea of saving MDS challenges you, and nothing has challenged you in a while."

  "Is that so?"

  She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

  Her eyelids fluttered when she said that. It was a bewitching little movement, almost imperceptible, and it goaded him quickly past whatever inner impulse had urged him toward caution. He was not a patient man. And he didn't w
ant to wait much longer to see that same expression on her face when she said yes for altogether different reasons.

  He leaned back in the chair and studied her through narrowed eyes. "Is it going to shock you to find out you've got this all wrong?"

  He sensed, rather than heard, her slight intake of breath. "Wrong?"

  "Um." He smoothed a wrinkle from his trouser leg. "Absolutely wrong. My being here has absolutely nothing to do with boredom." On the contrary, he couldn't actually remember the last time he'd felt so alive.

  She had started to fidget, as if she knew where this conversation might be headed and desperately wanted to divert it. "There are easier ways to be entertained than to wrap up my business in Prague and then fly halfway across the country to have dinner with you and sift through Harrison's financial records."

  "I see."

  Oh, she definitely did, he thought. "There's a strictly personal reason why I'm here. I have something you want." He paused. "And you have something I want."

  She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "I do?"

  "Yes." He allowed the silence to stretch between them. Abby remained perfectly still, her gaze locked with his. When he swore he could hear the sound of her heartbeat in the too-still room, he bent forward and whispered, "I want you."

  four

  Harrison stood with his back to her. That was never a good sign. Abby could see his reflection in the plate glass. He was staring out the large window of his twentieth-story office at a brooding Chicago sky, and the sky wasn't alone in its bad temper.

  Harrison's secretary, Joanna Dugan, had given Abby a sympathetic look as she'd waved her through the front office into Harrison's private suite. Word of her meeting with Ethan was obviously out, and Joanna knew Harrison well enough to know that Abby had little chance of surviving the inevitable confrontation unscathed.

  "Have a seat, Abigail," he said without turning to face her.

  Abby grimaced and eased into the chair across from his desk. She'd known the man for ten years and only one thing put him in this mood. Three days had passed since Ethan's visit. Three days since he'd made that extraordinary announcement, then simply picked up the financial statements and walked out of her house. She'd had three days to worry about what she should do next; three days to listen to Rachel rhapsodize over Ethan Maddux; three days to feel her stomach twist into knots every time the phone rang; three long, horrible days to decide how she was going to break the news to Harrison Montgomery that she'd walked into the den of his enemy and begged for help.