B00Z637D2Y (R) (11 page)

“Yeah, well, I need to cut out early.”

Michael slid a paperweight across the slick surface of the desk to put it in line with the top of his blotter. “Because?”

“Because I’m asking Claire to marry me tonight, and I need to go pick up the ring.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Will and Claire had been inseparable since they met. Still,
marriage
. The paperweight missed its mark and tumbled to the floor with a thud.

Will burst out laughing right as Chance strode in.

“What’s going on?” He leaned over and scooped up the glass paperweight with their father’s initials etched in it. “Is Michael throwing things at you?” He placed it on the desk and slipped into the other wing chair.

“No, I think he just lost his focus for a minute.” The dog yawned and snuggled against Will.

Chance grinned. “What? Do you have another bag of dog shit in your pocket?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Will answered with a matching dimpled grin—a hallmark of all three Anderson brothers. “But he has a woman living in his apartment.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He was going to kill Jim for this.

Chance’s jaw dropped. “Whoa.”

“It’s not like that,” he explained, moving the paperweight to its designated spot, then rotating it so that the initials faced out, perpendicular to the edge of the desk. “It’s a business arrangement.”

“Yeah, Claire and I had a business arrangement, too.” Will winked. “We still do. I like it when it’s her turn to be the boss.”

Chance and Will fist bumped.

“No, really,” Michael said, trying to keep his voice level and calm. “She’s preventing the dog from destroying my place at night.”

His brothers exchanged looks, but said nothing. Obviously, they weren’t going to make this easy.

“She was living next door to my apartment.”

The dog jumped from Will’s lap to Chance’s. “Oh, she’s the house sitter who drove you nuts.”

“Yes. But she got kicked out and she needed a place to live, so I told her she could live with me if she kept the dog under control at night.”

“Because that’s exactly what your psychiatrist had in mind when she gave you the assignment.”

Assignment. More like a prison sentence. “Technically, I’m well within the parameters of the doctor’s treatment. The dog is always under my care.”

“So, you get a dog sitter out of it and she gets a place to live? What else does she get?” Will asked.

“I have a better question. What else do
you
get, big brother?” Chance asked with a laugh. “What else is she keeping under control?”

His answer was a little too loud. “Nothing.”

Will straightened in his chair. “For how long?”

“Until after the wedding.”

His brothers exchanged glances.

“Her friend’s wedding.”

“Wait. Back it up,” Will said. “None of this makes sense. I need context.”

Michael stood and pretended to thumb through files on a shelf in the corner. He gave them the short version.

Will arched an eyebrow and studied him for what felt like forever. “Posing as a date? That’s way out of character for you. So, which category does she fall into?” When Michael didn’t answer, he continued. “Type A: the kind that wants you for money. Type B: the kind who wants you for sex, or Type C: the kind who doesn’t want you at all.”

“None of those.” Which gave him a jolt as he thought about it. She didn’t fit. She wasn’t money hungry. She wasn’t out for sex. She’d turned him down. At first, he thought she fit into Type C, but after the kiss on the bridge, he knew that wasn’t correct either.

His brothers exchanged looks again.

“Really. It’s not like that. We’re just helping each other out.”

The dog jumped off of Chance’s lap and wiggled under his chair. “Tell us about the wedding. How did that come about?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you’re acting weird—like you have a bag of shit in your pocket again—and I’m concerned.” He shot Will a look. “
We’re
concerned.”

He explained how the fake fiancé agreement came about, but his brothers only became more grim.

“Be careful,” Will warned. “I speak from experience when I tell you she wants something.”

But Michael knew he was wrong. She wasn’t like that, but it wasn’t worth explaining. Not with the meeting coming up. “Let’s talk about Mr. Kawashima.”

“Your surprise house guest is a lot more interesting,” Chance said.

Michael couldn’t have agreed more. He glanced at the clock again. Three hours and fifty-two minutes.

“What did Jim discover about Mr. Kawashima that might be holding him back?” Michael had memorized the business portfolio, but had ordered more info from Jim due to the man’s reticence to enter into a business agreement with Anderson Auctions.

Will shrugged. “Not much that’s not in the file he compiled for you. He’s married with one teen son. Wife stays at home. No past bankruptcies or skeletons in the closet. No enemies Jim could find.”

“Something’s holding him back,” Michael muttered, more to himself than Will.

“Maybe it’s you.” Chance said, probably as a joke. It wasn’t funny though. The man’s behavior made no sense. He’d been enthusiastic in all the correspondence and videoconferences until the day he arrived. Ever since the first face-to-face meeting on the street, he’d been distant.

“Oh,” Will said. “There is one bit of info Jim found out that you should know: Kawashima’s wife has a thing for dogs. Has half a dozen of them.” He pulled up a photo on his phone and turned it toward Michael. “Here she is.”

Prickles traveled down Michael’s spine as he studied the photo on Will’s screen. An attractive woman in a red dress held a black and white dog that looked similar to Shit Head, only smaller without the silly topknot and bow in its hair.

“The dog is called a Japanese Chin. His wife breeds them. Had one in the Westminster Dog Show two years ago that won Best of Breed and took second place in the Toy Group.”

Michael’s stomach churned. Could the fucking dog be the issue holding the deal up—the dog that hated him and loved everyone else, including the reticent Mr. Kawashima?

“The dog has to go until after the meeting. I need one of you to take it out of here while Mr. Kawashima and I come to an agreement.”

Will stood and stretched. “Sorry, big brother. I’m off to pick up Claire’s ring.”

“Nuh-uh,” Chance said, shaking his head when Michael gave him direct eye contact. “I have a match at the dojang. Can’t miss it. Sorry. Maybe your house sitter, slash dog sitter, slash live in girlfriend, slash fiancée could do it.”

She was at work. Their agreement only covered the dog at night. “Mildred!” Michael shouted. The woman appeared in his doorway, visibly shaken, making him feel like a dick. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Can I trouble you to watch the dog for me during tonight’s meeting?”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. I have my grandson’s fifth birthday party right after work.” She started to shuffle out but stopped. “And something was delivered just now by courier from Mr. Kawashima. I didn’t want to intrude on your meeting with your brothers.”

Michael’s stomach rolled over. What could be so important it had to come by courier before the meeting? He accepted the small, square box from Mildred and resisted the urge to tear into it like a kid ripping open a Christmas present. Instead, he took a deep breath and set it gently on his desk.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Chance asked.

“Eventually.” Michael sat, forcing himself to suppress his eagerness to discover the box’s contents. He needed to regain his discipline and focus.

Will snatched the package off of his desk and ripped it open. “No control games with this, Mikey. I need to go.” He reached into the gap in the side of the box and pulled out a red rubber ball. It was adorned with the name,
Clancy
. “Bingo. It’s the dog killing this deal. Well, not the dog, but your obvious dislike of him.”

Michael stood, dread trickling down his spine. The man had sent Shit Head a gift. Not good. “I do
not
dislike the dog.”

Chance, still seated casually, crossed his legs. “Yes, you do. You don’t even call him by name.”

He was right. He’d never said the dog’s name out loud.

“In fact, I bet you don’t even know his name.”

“I most certainly do.” And it was ridiculous. “His name is Clancy.”

The dog, still seated under Chance’s chair, raised its head and regarded him. He lifted the ball from the box. “Look, Clancy. Mr. Kawashima sent you a gift.” He held it down at ankle level. “Here you go, boy.” He rolled it toward the dog.

As if rejecting it simply because Michael had touched it, the dog eased out from under the chair and strolled past the ball without a glance, and into the bathroom.

“That dog hates me,” Michael mumbled.

“So it seems,” Will said, heading toward the door.

“Look. We all stand to lose if I don’t get this deal. I need your help,” Michael said, in what he knew was a selfish, last-ditch effort to enlist his brothers’ aid.

Will paused and he and Chance exchanged looks before he spoke. “We’ve discussed this before. It’s why I only handle the security part of our business. Neither Chance nor I are as invested in this as you. We have interests outside the walls of this building and will not work until eight every night. You have chosen to make this business the foundation of your life. I haven’t. Claire is my foundation, and I’m going to go ask her to marry me tonight, not babysit a dog. Perhaps you should come up for air yourself sometime, Mikey. Take a look around and see what else is out there other than work.”

Mia’s words rang through his head.
“You’re missing things.”

Chance stood and shrugged. “I’ve done my part as company lawyer, and all the paperwork is in order. If you had scheduled the meeting before six, I could’ve been here. Sorry, bro.” He picked up the ball from the floor in front of Michael’s desk and tossed it to him. “Ball’s in your court.” Then he grinned. “Sorry. Couldn’t help the bad joke. Good luck with the meeting.”

Ball in hand, Michael stared at the door long after his brothers closed it. He wondered if they’d always felt that way. Granted, his single-minded pursuit of success precluded a pastime like Chance’s martial arts, or devotion to a monogamous relationship like Will’s with Claire, but he never imagined it to be negative in their eyes. He thought of his father’s advice when he was a teen being groomed to take over the business:
“Work hard and play hard, son. No time wasted.”

His father had certainly played hard. And he’d played the field too, which broke their mother’s heart. As he watched his mother cry all those years ago, Michael vowed to himself that he’d never do that to a wife. That was why he had no desire to enter a relationship or ever get married.
Work hard. Play hard.
Michael knew he couldn’t do both and preferred the first part. The outcome was quantifiable and the payoff was big. He had to get this deal.

With a playful growl, Shit Head bolted into the room, the end of the toilet paper in his mouth, the rest of the roll trailing behind him as he circled the room, wrapping paper around the legs of furniture in a blur of fur and white tissue.

Michael stared at the clock. Three hours and forty minutes until he saw Mia. Just over an hour before his meeting with Mr. Kawashima. He was so screwed.

…

Mia gathered the Queen B’s brushes and paint and glanced at her watch. Just over three and a half hours until Michael got home. She sighed. It was pathetic that she was so wrapped up in a guy that she measured time by his arrival.

“I heard that sigh,” Blanche said.

Betty clucked her tongue. “Me, too.”

“Why don’t you go home and make yourself pretty for him?” Bernice suggested.

Mia turned the water on and rinsed the first brush, not responding.

“She’s ignoring us,” Gladys said. “Maybe because he’s ignoring
her
.”

“He is not ignoring me.” She whacked the brush against the side of the sink to knock the water out of the bristles. “Quite the opposite.”

“Then why is she beating that paintbrush senseless?” Gladys asked.

Without turning, she picked up the other two brushes and rinsed them. “Because I’m frustrated.”

“Living with a man that hot, she should
not
be frustrated.”

Bang, bang, bang
went the brushes against the side of the stainless steel sink.

“Hush, Gladys,” Blanche said. “You know, Mia honey, we have over three centuries of experience among us. Why don’t you let us help you work through this?”

“Or she could at least spill and let us vicariously enjoy it,” Gladys added.

Despite her frustration, that made Mia laugh. Gladys always made her smile.

“Come on, baby. Sit down with the Queen B’s and fill us in,” Betty said.

Bernice patted the chair next to her. “If nothing else, you’ll feel better.”

“If nothing else
we’ll
feel better,” Gladys added. “Then we can gossip about her based on facts, rather than speculation.”

Mia slumped into the chair and took a deep breath. Maybe talking it out would help. She started at the beginning, with the smoke alarm, and told the whole story right up to last night, when she dreamed about them tangled up together in his black, satin sheets.

“Oh, my.” Bernice fanned herself with a
Reader’s Digest
. “This is more exciting than those dirty movies Gladys gets on her TV.”

“I admire your conviction, Mia,” Betty said. “Hold out for a man who is serious and interested in you for more than… well,
that.
”

“Yes, I agree,” Blanche said. “If that’s all he wants, he’s not worth it.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Gladys said. “She’s young and missing out if she doesn’t engage in some hanky-panky. Did you see his picture? That’s not the kind of man you marry. It’s the kind of man you—”

“Excuse me,” a nurse said from the door of the rec room. “Someone is here to visit. Says he’s friends with Miss Mia.”

Who would visit her there?
Oh, god.
What if it was Jason? Mia could feel all eyes studying her reaction. “Did he give a name?”