My One And Only (7 page)

"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 l
ives," Ethan said dryly. "I sup
pose 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 dysfunc
tionalism. 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 rela
tively 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 Harr
ison by proving that you can ac
complish 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 lit
tle movement, almost impercepti
ble, and it goaded him quickly past whatever inner impulse had urged him toward caution. He was not a patient man. And he didn't want 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. "Absolut
ely wrong. My being here has ab
solutely 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

H
arrison 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.

Evidently, someone had done the deed for her.

"I just got off the phone with your sister." Harrison's voice was as calm and smooth as a frozen pond.

"Oh?"

"Um. She wanted to know if I'd buy a couple of raffle tickets for her school's marching band."

"She's dating the first trumpet player."

"She's too young to date."

"I keep telling her that."

Harrison turned from the window. "She also mentioned tha
t she enjoyed meeting Ethan Mad
dux."

It was the second time in a decade she'd even heard him mention the name. Abby didn't bother to respond. Harrison gave her a wounded look
that made her heart skip a beat, then dropped into his desk chair. "Would you care to explain that?"

She took a fortifying breath. "I went to San Francisco to see him," she confessed. "The day you called him." Storm clouds gathered in Harrison's eyes, so she held up a hand. "I wasn't even sure he'd see me. I didn't see the point in bringing this up until I knew we had something to discuss."

Harrison was silent.

"I didn't do it to hurt you, Harrison. You know I wouldn't."

"For God's sake, Abby, Ethan Maddux? You told him I was about to lose my company."

She didn't have to ask how he knew that. "Isn't that why you called him?"

He gave her a look that said the question was off-limits. Abby knew better than to press. "I asked for his help," she said. "It's true."

"Without consulting me." His voice had taken on a hard edge.

"You would have said no."

"Damn right I would have."

"But you called him yourself, Harrison. You must have known."

"I called to tell him I'd heard a terrible rumor that you might be on your way there. If he—" He stopped. "I wanted to make it perfectly clear that if Ethan has something to say to me, it's best said to
me.
Not through you."

"You knew I was going—"

"I suspected. Ryan mentioned you were headed for San Francisco."

"I went out there to meet with Doris Claymont about the foundation's direct-mail program. Ethan Maddux was an afterthought."

"I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear that."

"Harrison," she said gently, "I've seen the numbers. Ethan might be your last hope." She let the words hang between them for several seconds. Then she deliberately lowered her voice. "He's the best in the business. If anyone can pull Montgomery Da
ta Systems out of this trench…
" She trailed off.

Frustrated, she began to pace the confines of the plush office. She'd been in this room hundreds of times. She had listened while Harrison planned the future of his empire. She had provided research and reports, analysis and input on projects and ventures that had carried the business steadily forward. She had learned more, seen more, and experienced more in this office than she could have imagined the day he'd hired her.

Always, he'd been in control of the conversation. He'd been both mentor and friend, but she couldn't fight the sensation that their roles were changing.

"Look," she said, "I wasn't trying to deceive you." At his skeptical glance, she winced. "No matter what it looked like."

"You knew how I'd feel about this."

"I have reports coming across my desk every
day that say there's no bailout in sight. Your field offices are calling in a panic that they aren't going to meet payroll. The stock is sinking, and at the rate we're going, a buyout is inevitable."

"I pay you to run the Montgomery Foundation, Abby. I wasn't aware you'd taken on financial analysis as a sideline."

She winced again. It wasn't like him to be acerbic. In the ten years she'd known him, she could count on one hand the number of times he'd spoken to her out of irritation. His biting sarcasm was one more sign of how deep were the wounds of his conflict with Ethan.

She sat down in her chair with a slight nod. "Point taken."

Harrison tapped the end of a fountain pen on his desk in a sharp staccato. "I ought to fire you for this."

"Probably."

"You had no right—"

"Harrison, can you honestly tell me that you'd rather lose your company than swallow a little pride and ask for Ethan's help?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

Stunned, Abby stared at him. "Oh."

He frowned at her. "You didn't think so?"

"Well, no, I—"

"I've spent my life building and developing this business. We've had some very good years, and I believe we'll continue to have good years."

When she would have interrupted, he held up a hand. "We will probably have those years under someone else's leadership."

"But—"

"Let me finish." He set the pen down and folded his hands on his desk. "Maybe I held on for too long. Maybe I should have started listening earlier."

"There are back taxes—"

"I see you've been talking to Robert."

"People are anxious," Abby admitted. "I've been under pressure to try to reason with you."

He leaned back in his chair and shot her a weary smile. "How many members of my illustrious family have called you in a panic?"

"Several."

He looked tired, as if the burden of his sisters, their husbands and ex-husbands, children and stepchildren, cousins, aunts, uncles, and the scores of in-laws had suddenly become far greater than he wanted to bear. "I'm certain they have."

"They're concerned."

He tapped his finger on the desk in a lazy rhythm. "Last time you counted," he said, "how many members of my family are gainfully employed?"

Abby frowned. "Not counting the ones who work for you?"

"Not counting those."

"Four, including Ethan."

"Hmm. No wonder they're anxious."

"Your board has been asking me to try to reason with you."

"And by 'reason
',
they mean bring in Ethan to bail us out?"

"It's come up, but I approached him on my own."

"No one believes I can do it by myself."

The defeated sound of his voice struck a nerve. "Harrison—"

"Don't bother to deny it."

"No one's questioning that you've provided excellent leadership for this company."

"Please. Whatever you do, don't placate me. You, of all people, ought to know how I hate that."

"I'm sorry." For everything, she thought. That you're in this place and I can't help you. That your family is more interested in what you can do for them than in who you are. That you've never trusted anyone enough to let them love you. "I didn't know what else to do."

"You shouldn't have brought Ethan into this."

"I wanted to help."

"What did he say when he saw the reports?"

It had pained him to ask the question, she knew. "He confirmed what we already know."

"And?"

"He said he'd get back to me."

"The best thing that could happen would be for him to turn you down."

"Maybe he will."

He shook his head, his expression fierce. "I doubt it."

"I don't think he wants to hurt you, Harrison."

"You could never understand, Abigail. Trust me."

"If you'd only—"

He held up one hand. "Just make sure you keep me in the loop at least, will you?"

Abby sensed the dismissal and rose to go. She hesitated as she studied the haggard lines of his face. "If you tell me to, I'll call him and say I've changed my mind."

He thought it over for a minute, then shook his head. "It's too late for that."

"You're sure?"

"You have no idea what you're asking, Abby." He seemed slightly lost. "Things aren't always what they seem" he said enigmatically. His voice sounded flat and lifeless. "But the wheels are in motion now. There's no sense trying to stop them."

Abby hesitated. "Are you sure there isn't something you want to tell me?"

"I'm absolutely sure." He reached for a manila folder—her signal that the discussion was closed. "Let's get back to work, Abby. What's done is done."

She was halfway to the door when he interrupted her progress. "Tell Rachel I'll take ten tickets."

"I will." Abby paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Deirdre is coming in this afternoon. She wants to talk about this office issue again." Thus far, Abby had been able to persuade Deirdre that she didn't need an office in the MDS building to conduct her business. As the fund-raiser neared, however, Deirdre was pushing harder. "Do you want to come sit in on the meeting?"

The look he gave her spoke volumes. "Would you want to if you were me?"

"Hell, no," she assured him. "But she's your sister, and I'm only putting up with her because you asked me to."

His expression softened. "And I appreciate it. Deirdre's in a bad place. She needed something."

"So you gave her to me."

"You're the best I've got, Abby."

She felt cheered by the return of their usual banter. "Well, she's driving me nuts—and the rest of the staff along with me. That little scene the other day was just the tip of the iceberg."

"She's determined to have an office?"

"I think she wants mine."

"She does," he admitted. "She told me the other day that she thinks the foundation should be run by a Montgomery."

"If I hadn't heard you complain about how the woman keeps her checking account, I might feel threatened."

Some of the usual sparkle had returned to his gaze. "Believe me, you have nothing to fear. I love my sister, but I'm not stupid."

"Then can I count on you this afternoon?"

"Yes. Check with Joanna and make sure my schedule's cleared."

"Got it." She pulled open the door.

"Abby?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you planning to bring a date to the fundraiser this year?"

Abby managed a small laugh. "Good grief, Harrison, like I have time to think about a date!"

"It's a big night. I'd rather not have any surprises."

Ethan, she thought. He was worried that she would bring Ethan.

"No, I'm not bringing a date. And are you ever going to stop bugging me about my social life?"

"Lack of social life, you mean?" He shook his head. "When you tell me you've developed one, I'll stop asking."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He gave Abby the full impact of his gaze. "Thank you for telling me the truth, Abby," he said quietly.

She didn't have to ask what he meant. As their financial picture
had grown bleaker, many of Har
rison's advisors had attempted to shield themselves by concealing the more unpleasant facts from him. Since the day he'd inherited the business from his autocratic father, there had been a common misconception that Harrison's less imposing ways and more democratic leadership style meant he lacked his father's charisma and intelligence. Abby knew better. Harrison was a man willing to let others take the credit for his victories, while he alone accepted blame for his defeats.

She understood him very well—with the exception of one missing piece to the puzzle. The tension of his relationship with Ethan seemed starkly out of character. Soon, she vowed, she'd get to the bottom of what put that slightly haunted look in his eyes whenever he thought about his estranged son. And if she were lucky, he'd forgive her for it when it was over. "I'd never lie to you," she told him earnestly.

"I believe that," Harrison assured her.