Read My One And Only Online

Authors: MacKenzie Taylor

Tags: #Corporate, #Chase

My One And Only (6 page)

BOOK: My One And Only
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He was about to make an irrevocable choice. And he didn't want Harrison's financial statements cluttering his mind. "There's something we need to talk about," he said carefully.

She took her time meeting his gaze. Slow and easy, deliberate and controlled, he noted. Something about her made most of the women he knew seem a little crass. He had a sudden vision of always-perfe
ctly-dressed, always-perfectly-
groomed Pamela. Abby made his ex-
fiancée
seem harsh around the edges. Though Pamela wouldn't have been caught dead in jeans and a sweatshirt, Abby wore them with an unpracticed elegance, which told him, somehow, that she'd have lace on underneath. She was that kind of woman—full of secrets.

"You don't have to sugarcoat this for me," she assured him. "Things are bad, aren't they?"

"You could say that."

She pressed her lips together in grim acceptance. Full lips. Lips he'd thought about innumerable times while in Prague. "I knew it." She sank more deeply into the heavily cushioned sofa. "It's disastrous."

He tapped the report with his index finger. "From what I've seen, that's an understatement."

"Is there anything…
"

"I can't tell you that after an hour of looking over the numbers. I told you that I need a week."

"I understand."

He tapped one long finger on the arm of his chair as he watched her. He was trying to figure out just what it was about the woman that caused him to seriously consider having anything to do with Harrison's life. "If I did decide to do this, I'd have to give it my full attention," he said carefully.

"I'm aware of that."

"Can you give me a reason why I should?"

She swallowed, and her lips parted slightly. Ethan considered that a very good sign. She wasn't nervous, just aware of the undercurrent that ran between them. He'd suspected as much but hadn't had the chance, until now, to really watch for the signs. He'd kept his attention deliberately on Rachel during dinner, not wanting to bait Abby until he had her alone.

"You told Rachel you'd come back next week for dinner," Abby pointed out.

"I was seduced"—he deliberately cradled the word—"by that chocolate thing."

Her lips twitched in that charming little half smile that tickled nerve endings. How long, he wondered, would he have to know her before she'd smile that way when she thought about him? "She's good."

"She's excellent."

"If it makes you feel any better, you aren't the only one to cave in when faced with one of Rachel's desserts. I've made some pretty major concessions while she was waving a plate in front of my nose."

"Hmm."

"She does this cheesecake thing that's out of this world."

She was warming to the topic, he realized. When Abby was particularly lost in a subject, she used her hands a lot, as if she were manipulating the air in front of her to help make a point.

"Good?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes in exaggerated bliss. "God, you can't imagine. I think I put on four pounds that day."

His gaze dropped to the lush swell of her hips. The faded denim hugged gene
rous womanly curves that made hi
s hands tingle. There wasn't a sharp angle on her.

She chuckled, then continued. "Last year Harrison was going to s
ee if he could arrange some les
sons 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."

Th
e 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 hea
rt
beats, 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 do
ing this for you?'
"

She hadn't forgotten. He put that piece of information in the Positive column of his growing balan
c
e 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 conf
ined 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 manag
erial positions in three depart
ments. 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 sorr
y." Her eyes mirrored the senti
ment. "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, before 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. H
e's a nice enough kid, but some
times 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?"

BOOK: My One And Only
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