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Authors: Janet Nissenson

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“I remember her very well,” replied Nick in the deep, husky voice that Angela had once been enthralled by. “She’s not a woman you’d ever forget meeting.”
She should have fallen instantly back under his spell with those words, should have found herself staring back at him with an entranced look on her face, the way she’d done for all those months. After all, he’d always had that effect on her, from the very first time she’d seen him.
But, shockingly, she only felt anger now. Hot, vicious, aggressive anger, and if Paul McReynolds hadn’t been in the room watching them curiously, she might have given in to the overwhelming urge to smack Nick as hard as she could across his devilishly handsome face.
Angela managed – just – to control her rising temper and jerked her hand out of his iron grasp before he could react.
“This is a – surprise,” she told him in an amazingly serene tone. “I wouldn’t have imagined you ever leaving Jessup Prior considering all the success you enjoyed there.”
Nick gave a little shrug, the massive shoulders encased in a custom made charcoal gray suit as wide as ever. He’d played football – both in college and the pros – the great, revered defensive end for the San Francisco 49ers who’d retired well before his prime after suffering two concussions in one season.
“Circumstances have changed,” was all he offered up by way of an explanation, “and even those of us most set in our ways have to adapt when necessary.”
Angela frowned, not allowing herself to even contemplate any possible double meaning to his words. “I see. Well, I’m sure you’ll settle in here just fine. Good luck to you, Nick.”
Paul chuckled. “Nick won’t need the slightest bit of luck. He
is
good luck, at least according to all of his clients. He’s going to make everyone in this office forget George Barnhart ever existed.”
Another careless shrug was the only acknowledgment Nick gave to Paul’s praise. But then, thought Angela with a growing sense of rage, what more was there to say? Nick Manning’s very name was synonymous with success, wealth, and power, the broker with the reputation of turning everything he touched to gold, and who had the extremely rare luxury of being able to pick and choose his clients, to actually turn business away.
Angela had to force herself to smile in response, enough that she feared her cheekbones might crack with the effort. “Well, if anyone is capable of a feat like that, I’m sure it’s Nick.”
Nick opened his mouth but before he could speak Paul was steering him out of the room. “Well, we won’t take up anymore of your time, Angela. I know how you hate too many interruptions during your workday. Nick, you might be interested to learn that Angela is one of our most promising young brokers. She cracked top ten in production credits last month.”
The smile Nick gave her was enough to make her knees go weak, enough to cause the blood to resume pumping hotly through her long-chilled body. “I am interested to know that, Paul,” he drawled lazily. “But not in the least surprised. I always knew that Angela had great potential. I’m very glad to see that she’s fulfilling my expectations.”
Her jaw dropped open in shock, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. But before she could reply, Paul had shepherded Nick out of the office and she could hear Cara giggling nervously as Nick said something to her in a low voice. Angela rolled her eyes, easily imagining the sort of mildly flirtatious comment Nick had made to her adorably naïve assistant. Women had always been attracted to him, like bees to honey, and the jealousy she’d felt as a result had torn away at her, practically flaying the skin from her body, especially since she’d never dared to betray such feelings to him.
Like a dam that had just burst, all of the feelings she’d gotten so good at repressing – anger, hurt, bitterness, jealousy, desperation, sorrow – all came roaring back at the same time with a vengeance, flooding her mind and her heart until she was shaking again. Only this time it wasn’t with cold or shock but with rage – utterly consuming rage – that burned through her. She wanted to scream and curse, to slap and kick and bite, to throw things and watch them break into tiny pieces. Instead, she paced frantically back and forth across the narrow width of her sparsely furnished office, digging her nails into her palms so hard it was a wonder they didn’t draw blood.
Cara burst excitedly into the office, all ready to gush about the super hunky Nick Manning, when she froze in place. She stared at her boss, the always cool, always composed Angela who now looked about ready to burst a blood vessel. Angry color stained her normally ghostly pale cheeks, and her brown eyes were wide with emotion. A strand of glossy jet black hair had escaped the thick knot at the nape of her neck, and Cara jumped back in alarm when Angela slammed her clenched fist down on the corner of her desk.
“Um, are you – ah, okay?” ventured Cara timidly. “You seem – well, upset seems like too mild of a word. I’ve never seen you this way, Angela.”
Angela’s eyes were almost fever bright as she whipped her gaze towards Cara. “How is he – why is he here?” she murmured distractedly, almost as though she was talking to herself. “I don’t understand how he’s here.”
The concern Cara felt at seeing her boss so unhinged was intensifying with each passing moment. “Do you mean Nick Manning?” she inquired gently. “Do you know him from somewhere?”
Angela nodded, then resumed her frantic pacing. “We – worked together. Years ago, when I first graduated from Stanford. But I never imagined he’d leave Jessup Prior. Never thought I’d see him again.” She slammed her fist down again, this time on top of a bookcase. Her voice broke as she added, “And I especially never thought I’d see him
here.
”
Angela’s whole body was quivering in reaction now, and she clutched the corner of her desk to hold herself steady. Panic stricken, Cara pulled one of the guest chairs over and gently eased her boss down onto the seat.
“Geez, you look like you’re going to pass out, Angela,” Cara told her in alarm. “Let me get you a glass of water. Or, better yet, some sugar. Hold on. And don’t faint.”
It had been a long time since she’d had a panic attack, but she could definitely feel one beginning to start. Almost desperately, she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around her trembling body, and forced herself to take long, calming breaths.
For the first few months after things had ended with Nick, these panic attacks had been a daily – if not twice or thrice daily –occurrence. But then she’d discovered how good she was at shutting off her emotions, blocking out the world around her, and the episodes of feeling like she was going to pass out or stop breathing or scream until her voice gave out suddenly faded away. Until a few minutes ago, that is, when the source of her long ago but never forgotten nightmares had strolled oh so casually through her office door.
As though he had every right to be here, she thought with a growing fury. As though she’d be
happy
to see him after all this time, would welcome the heartless bastard into the sanctuary she’d carefully constructed with open arms. As though the eleven months and five days she’d slavishly devoted to him had never existed or as if they’d only been the most casual of business associates. As though he hadn’t ripped her still-beating heart out of her chest and crushed it in one of his massive hands into a million tiny pieces. As though he hadn’t utterly and completely destroyed her, damaged her, shattered her.
“Here, drink some water. Then you’re going to eat this, all of it, and you’re not going to argue about it.”
Angela almost laughed at the ferocious look on her assistant’s little heart-shaped face, but rather meekly accepted the glass of water Cara shoved in her face. Her hands were still shaking as she drank, so some of the water dribbled onto her black Stella McCartney suit trousers. Cara whisked the glass away after she’d taken several sips only to plunk an already unwrapped candy bar in her hand.
And even though she hadn’t eaten a Milky Way bar for as long as she could remember, Angela found herself consuming the entire thing in an astonishingly brief amount of time. The shock and panic she’d been experiencing was gradually giving way to an unusually calm, almost serene state, and when Cara began to hand her mini Famous Amos cookies she popped each one in her mouth automatically.
When she’d consumed the entire little bag, Cara breathed a sigh of relief. “There. You’re finally getting a little color back in your cheeks and your breathing is returning to normal. God, for a few minutes there I thought I was going to have to call 911.”
Angela shook her head. “I’m okay. It’s just – been a shock is all. And I don’t cope with change very well, as you’ve surmised. It’ll just take some time to get used to the idea that Nick Manning is working in this office.”
Cara perched herself on the corner of the desk. “Based on your reaction just now, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess the two of you weren’t just co-workers.”
Angela sighed. “You’d be correct. But it’s not something I want to talk about, okay? And do
not
breathe a word to anyone else in this office, either. Nick – he’s a very private man. He, well, he doesn’t care to have his personal business discussed.”
“I won’t say a word,” assured Cara. “But – geez, Angela – the way you’re reacting after seeing him again. I can’t say if you’re pissed off or terrified.”
Angela gave a hollow sounding laugh. “Both, I think. Pissed off that he thinks he can just waltz into
my
firm,
my
office, like he owns the place. And terrified because – well, that’s the part I can’t talk about.” She glanced at the empty cookie wrapper in her hand like it was something slimy. “And what the hell did I just eat anyway?”
Cara grinned. “Chocolate chip cookies. And a candy bar before that. Probably more calories than you usually consume in an entire day.”
Disgusted, Angela wadded up the wrapper and tossed it in the wastebasket. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Took advantage of me when I was out of it and shoved sugar down my throat.”
“You should eat sugar more often,” Cara told her gently. “And pizza or a sandwich or some pancakes. Something besides black coffee and breath mints.”
Angela shooed her well-meaning assistant off after assuring her three times that she was okay, but it was nearly an hour later before she could actually focus on work again. And even then she found it almost impossible to block out the image of Nick’s devilishly handsome face or his big, powerful body encased in one of his expensive, handmade Italian suits. He’d aged a bit, evidenced by the occasional thread of silver in his raven hair and a few more lines radiating out near his temples. But he still looked damned fine for a man fast approaching forty, and would likely be the sort who would ooze sex appeal and charisma well into his seventies. And even though she’d convinced herself long ago that he no longer meant anything to her, she was beginning to realize all of that had been a pathetic sham. Just five minutes in his commanding presence had been more than enough to draw her back into his web, to fall under the spell he’d cast over her years earlier.
Angela gave her head an angry, determined shake. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – give that heartless bastard another thought. She’d blocked him out for all this time and she could continue to do so, despite his sudden, unwelcomed presence in her workplace. His new office was nowhere near her own, and assuming his work habits hadn’t changed, he’d be likely to lock himself away in his lair for most of the day, delegating tasks right and left to the five-person staff he’d have undoubtedly brought along with him as part of the deal he’d struck with McReynolds. Given her own tendency to bury herself in her work and her rabid anti-social behavior, the chances of them encountering each other would be infrequent at best.
‘I can do this,’ she told herself firmly. ‘Nick Manning is a swine and you need to remember that, girl. Remember it and stay as far away from him as possible.’
But what she hadn’t prepared herself for was Nick coming to seek
her
out, strolling into her office late in the day when Cara had already gone home and the rest of the office was nearly deserted. She felt his presence before she actually saw him, glancing up from her computer monitor in alarm as he shut her office door firmly behind him.
Angela fixed what she hoped was a ferocious scowl on her face as she glimpsed the somber expression on his own features. “What are you doing here?” she asked ungraciously. “Both at this firm and in my office. You have to know you’re the very last person I want to see.”
Nick ignored her question and asked one of his own. “What the fuck happened to you, Angela? You look like the walking dead.”
She gave a caustic little laugh. “Gee, thanks. You never were one to dole out compliments very often, but I can’t remember hearing direct insults either.”
He shook his head. “I’m not trying to insult you. But for Christ’s sakes, Angie, I barely recognized you earlier. You look – Jesus, exactly how much weight have you lost anyway?”
She shrugged, willing herself to remain calm and detached. “Don’t you know it’s not polite to ask a woman how much she weighs?”
Nick looked at her scornfully. “I think you and I are way past the point where we have to worry about being polite to each other. Christ – when I saw you earlier today – I can’t remember the last time I had a shock like that.”

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