Heart and Sole (3 page)

Chapter Three

On Monday morning, Maddie was on the phone in her office when Nick leaned his large-shouldered frame across her desk, carefully moving her stiletto shoe stapler out of the way. Her sketchbook filled with shoe designs lay millimeters from his hand. As she instinctively buried it under a stack of papers, their fingers brushed, sending an unwanted frisson of energy zipping up her arm.

She stiffened, all her defenses snapping into place. Just because he strode in looking more mouthwatering than her mother’s famous peach pie, his graphic tie and dress shirt straining against taut, hard muscles
and
smelling like Italian cologne, did
not
mean she was intimidated.

Melting inside and short of breath, definitely, but intimidated,
no
.

She rolled her eyes to show she wasn’t, moved her stapler out of his reach, and continued her business call.

He waited about a second after she hung up before he spoke. “Why wouldn’t you meet me in my room to talk after the party? Didn’t you get my note?” His tone bespoke a man unused to being stood up.

“I never engage the enemy on his own turf. Besides, the last time I met you in your room, our ‘talk’ didn’t go so well.”

He snorted. Their “talk” last year had lasted all of sixty seconds before their clothes were off, and they were engaging in very
un
-businesslike forms of communication. She still remembered how, in the dark bedroom, the outside lights had played across the strong, stubborn planes of Nick’s face, the sculpted hills and hollows of his perfectly formed chest. He’d looked at her tenderly, lifted a lock of her hair, and flashed the sweetest smile. As if their lovemaking had allowed him, for an all-too-brief flash of time, to drop that heavily guarded wall he kept shuttered fast around him.

Remorse pricked her. She’d allowed herself to dream big after that night, and it still really hurt. She didn’t want him to think the auction had anything whatsoever to do with
them
. Too bad he was Enemy Number One, no matter how tempting the package. And she couldn’t ever forget it.

Nick slowly lowered his tall frame into one of the leather chairs across from her desk and stretched out his long legs, muscles molding against form-fitting, freshly creased pants that probably cost more than her monthly rent.

She resisted the urge to fan herself. Did she say
tempting package
? That would be correct. She glanced at her phone to fight the distraction. “Don’t get too comfortable. I have an appointment in ten minutes.”

“That should be more than enough time to sort this through. I want the truth, Madison. All of it.”

She swiveled around in her chair. “I want you to come home and see my family. And our town. That’s the whole truth.”

And then I want you to realize this whole scheme is wrong, dump your shares, and let me take over as CEO. Easy peasy
.

“You want me to sell my investment in your company, and I won’t do it.”

His eyes scanned the painted wood sign that hung behind her desk. It read
Integrity. Honesty. Hard Work.
Underneath, in smaller lettering, it read
Kingston Shoes. Family Owned Since 1944.

“Stop it,” she said.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently.

“Stop judging our company.”

“I find it ironic you think you stand for all those things, but you don’t.”

“You don’t know what I stand for.”

“Maybe not, but my grandfather does.”

She sighed. “Why does every discussion we have come back to this?”

“Because my grandfather helped build your company with his integrity, honesty, and hard work, and all he got was screwed.”

“He walked away was the story I heard. And the company was too young at the time to have much return on investments.”

Nick snorted. “Without my grandfather’s engineering genius, your shoes would never have taken off in the first place.”

“Is that why you bought up shares? Because you’re out for revenge?”

“No.” He stood and tapped his index finger down on the surface of her cluttered desk to underscore his point. “I’m out for
justice
.” He paused to see the effect of his words, but she purposely faced him unflinching. “Besides, you need to add another word to your motto.”

She crossed her arms defiantly.

“
Modernization
. Your company is out of date.”

Maddie stood so fast the wheels on her chair clattered against the plastic carpet guard beneath. She heaved deep breaths in and out to remain calm.

It didn’t work.

“Our orthopedic line got a top rating from
Consumer Reports
for quality and engineering.”

“They’re old lady shoes. The real shoe-buying demographic won’t touch them.”

She made a mental note not to allow Nick a glimpse of her own shoes, which happened to be passion pink four-inch peek-toe pumps with ruffle embellishments that were definitely
not
from the Kingston collections.

“So they’re practical. We’re not targeting the uber-stylish-designer crowd.” But that would change once she was in charge. If she could get her designs noticed. Like in the national Bergdorf design competition she was thinking about entering.

“You’re not targeting
any
market. That’s the problem. You’re wasting opportunities by putting forth a bland product.”

Maddie suddenly realized both her hands were clamped into fists. He was the most irritating, cutthroat, opportunistic know-it-all she’d ever met and she wanted to tell him so, only she knew her father would disapprove. He’d taught her and her siblings to treat people civilly, with a smile, even if they made you mad as hell. “Treat ’em like kings and queens, because they’re our bread and butter,” he’d admonished when they were teenagers, working in the original store on Main Street.

Her heart twisted. Henry Kingston was old school all the way. A proud man who didn’t let on to any of them that the company was in trouble even before he’d had the stroke that took away his speech and ability to walk.

But if Nick knew her dad was sick he’d shut them down—or take over—in less than a heartbeat. She’d never get the chance to bring the company back to its feet. “Why do you care about our products if you’re going to dissolve the company anyway?”

“I’m only stating facts. The company is in a tailspin. My job is deciding which companies to save and which to let go, and based on every indicator, it’s too late.”

He sat in his chair, relaxed, confident and so damn smug she wanted to wrinkle his shirt. Mess up his hair. Skew his tie. Anything to see if he was really human under all that arrogance.

“The bottom line is that you’re capitalizing on our bad fortune. How could you take away our livelihood?” She bit her lip. She sounded desperate. Angry. When she should be calm, logical, and unaffected.

“My grandfather was never able to achieve a dream he still wants. I have the opportunity to give that to him. I’m sorry, Maddie.” For a second, he looked genuinely contrite. His large brown eyes filled with softness, like he truly did regret being a scumbag. But then they went hard. “Business is business.”

She lowered herself back into her chair. “No, Nick, business is
never
just business. Especially in this case.”

“I can’t help what happened between our grandfathers. But I can help make it right.”

“Do you really think that taking over the company on behalf of your grandfather is going to avenge a fifty-year-old feud?” It certainly wouldn’t end it. She shuddered as she imagined the flash of horror on her family’s faces if Kingston Shoes were ever owned by Holters.

“Maybe not.” He paused. “Look at it this way. If it’s not me, it’s going to be somebody else. Your company is sinking faster than the Titanic.”

His grandfather was seventy-two, just like her grandmother. What on earth was he going to do with their company?

Nick’s gaze flitted around the room. Half-packed boxes lay strewn on the floor, and one of the bookshelves was empty. Maddie shifted in her chair, a vain attempt to distract him from all the evidence of her moving.

“You’re leaving?”

She stiffened. “My father needs help. I believe I can help him turn things around.”

A frown cast a shadow on his strong features. “I always thought you didn’t want anything to do with the business.”

She hadn’t. She was an artist at heart, much to her dad’s chagrin. A few years ago, after graduating from the Art Institute of Philadelphia with her graphic design degree, her parents had loaned her money for a website design startup that had failed disastrously. But she finally landed a decent job, managing a group of graphic designers who created ads for different online shoe companies.

And in her spare time, she drew shoes. Stilettos, pumps, platforms, booties, sandals…velvet, satin, bead, and embroidery embellishments…stuff far, far away from the practical leather ‘n’ laces she’d been surrounded by her entire life. A useless skill as far as her dad was concerned, who had begged her to get a business degree so she could take over the company books. But now her father needed her, and she wouldn’t let him down. She
couldn’t
.

“I changed my mind.”

This was the impasse. The old family feud that had no end. No one even knew what it was about anymore.

“Look, I didn’t come here to dredge up the past.” Nick turned and stretched out one leg so he could pull a piece of paper out of his pocket, which he tossed blithely across the desk.

It was a check for $30,000 made out to Children’s Hospital.

Maddie raised her brow, resisted the urge to tear the flimsy sheet to shreds and rant.
Be calm. Be rational. Let him explain.
“What’s this for?”

She may have been trained in graphic design, but she could add. Her bid plus her promise. Thirty-K. Enough to forget her whole stupid plan and let him off scot-free.

“Take it, and we can pretend last night never happened. You’ll be off the hook to cough up all that money I know you don’t have.”

Bright, angry fireworks burst in front of her eyes, obscuring her vision. Oh, she’d take it all right…and shove it right up his elegant, conceited ass.

Even worse, his words brought back another night, a year ago, and she wondered if he wished
that
night had never happened either.

“What you’re really saying is
you’re
off the hook,” she said.

“Hardly.”

She crossed her arms in a not-so-fast move. “The rules state you have to spend the weekend with me. The
long
weekend.”

A wry, cocky smile washed across his face. “If you want me that bad, we can spend a weekend wherever you want, sweetheart.”

“You arrogant, cocky bastard.”

She walked around her desk, no longer caring if he noticed her impractical shoes, until they were face to face. “I do
not
want you sexually, but you are going to fulfill the terms of the agreement. You can’t make up your own rules.”

His gaze drifted slowly down her body, and she suppressed a shiver. She detected a glimmer of amusement in the depths of his caramel-colored eyes. He
knew
she wanted him, and he reveled in her weakness. “It’s a charity auction—there are no technical ‘rules.’” He drew quotation marks in the air.

“We’ll see about that.” Maddie picked up her cell phone from the desk and punched in a number.

Nick’s brows shot up in concern. “What are you doing?”

“Calling my sister.”

“Which one?”

“Not Liz—she’s still overseas doing doctor stuff.” He moved to snatch the phone from her hand but she backed up and began talking. “Hi, Cat. Nick’s in my office. He wants to pay me off to drop the auction agreement.”

“So let him,” her sister said.

Maddie pretended not to hear. “I want to instruct him about the backlash that would create.”

“Backlash? Money talks. As long as he pays, there’s no backlash.”

Maddie held the phone against her shoulder. “Catherine says she’ll make sure it gets written up in her column that you reneged. You’ll have to answer to the entire city. Plus, they want to do a follow-up article after our ‘date.’” This time
she
made the air quotes. “Your reputation as a nice guy is at stake. And I know how much you care about what other people think.”

She walked around him. He stood arrow-straight and tall, shoulders back, posture perfect. But a tiny vein at his temple pulsed. His square jaw clenched hard, and so did his fist. Mr. Cool-as-a-Cucumber was sweating.

And that was a beautiful thing.

“The agenda is set.” She ticked off events on her fingers as she paced back and forth in front of her desk. “First, we’ll see my family.” Well, minus her father, but maybe she could tell him her dad was gone on business. “Then we’ll attend the Berry Festival. And then there’s Gran’s seventy-second birthday. Mom’s already insisted you stay with us.”

“That’s very kind. But I’ll stay at the B and B, thanks.”

“My parents have never held your genes against you, Nick.” Plus, there was no way her mother was going to allow that. She could bet her firstborn—if she ever had one—on it. But now his eye was twitching, and she didn’t want to push her luck.

“I just don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Then don’t do this to us.”

“I bought shares, that’s all. Shares that were up for sale because you all are desperate.” His voice was soft, almost soothing. “The company has failed all by itself. It needs a miracle to save it, and I’m sorry, but I’m fresh out of those. This trip is going to be a waste of time for both of us.”

Maddie felt the shock of his touch on her arm. Even now, waves of heat spread through her body.
Damn him anyway
. She tried to pull out of his reach, but his hold was steel, and his hard, calculating gaze bored into hers. He was not a man who lost his battles.

She shook her head like he was a hopeless case, but deep down, Maddie wondered if it was really herself she was chiding.

Nick’s dark, sensual eyes bore into hers. “You’ve spent money you can’t afford and now you’re leaving your job for a lost cause. Give it up, Maddie. I’m going to dissemble or restructure whether I share a piece of birthday cake with your grandmother or not.”