Steal My Heart (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) (13 page)

She stared at his chest, swallowing hard at the male beauty: the muscled abs, the fine dark hair, the washboard stomach revealed by low riding jeans. Her mouth went dry. She felt a hunger inside of her that was shocking.

And then Michael was kissing her again, running his hands through her hair, holding her face as he assaulted her mouth with so much passion she could barely stand up.

She lost all track of where they were—until the door to the box opened, and a cleaning person came in.

The woman let out a startled gasp and a muttered "Sorry." Then she quickly backed out of the box.

Liz stared at the door in shock, then looked back at Michael. His hair was tangled from her fingers. His mouth showed a trace of her lip gloss, and his eyes were glittering with desire. He started to reach for her again, but she put up a hand. "We can't do this here."

He looked like he wanted to argue, then his jaw tightened. "You're right."

"What was I thinking?" she muttered as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it back over his head.

"You weren't thinking—for a change. You rarely let yourself go like that, and it was great. We are good together, Liz. Better than I ever imagined. And believe me, I have imagined it more than once."

She swallowed hard, not sure how to reply to that. "You probably imagined kissing a lot of girls in high school."

"Oh, I did," he agreed, "and you were definitely on that list—until you broke my nose. Then I decided you might not be worth the pain. But I was wrong. You were worth it."

She put on her jacket and grabbed her bag. She was pretty sure she'd been crazy to hit him the first time, because to think she could have the same kiss back then was unsettling. "Let's go."

* * *

The drive back to her place took only about twenty minutes and neither of them had much to say. Liz was playing through different scenarios in her mind. When they got to her apartment, they could pick up where they left off. That would probably be really amazing. She'd never been this attracted to a man, and the way he kissed made her toes curl.

On the other hand,
this
man
was her rival. How could she hook up with him? Sex would really complicate things. She'd be crossing a line. It wasn't professional.

But she didn't feel like being professional right now. She'd been putting her job first for a very long time. When did she just get to have fun?

On the other hand, she wasn't just working for herself; she was also doing it for her father, to protect his legacy. Was one night with Michael really worth jeopardizing all that?

She had a lot of questions, but she hadn't come up with any answers when Michael parked in front of her building and followed her up the stairs. He had to come inside, because he'd left his suitcase in her apartment. Now, she couldn't help wondering if that had been part of his plan.

No, that was ridiculous. Michael didn't plan. He was a live-in-the-moment kind of guy and tonight she wanted to be the kind of woman who lived in the moment, but a voice inside her head was screaming at her to be careful.

This was Michael. This was a guy who could hurt her—on a lot of levels.

She slipped her key into the lock and opened her door.

He followed her inside.

She stopped in the middle of the room, not sure what to do next. "So…"

He stared back at her, and he looked serious, far more serious than she'd ever seen him look.

After a moment, he walked slowly toward her. She felt frozen, her heart racing, her palms starting to sweat. The moment of truth had arrived.

He slid his hands through her hair, gave her another long look, an even longer kiss, and then let her go. "Goodnight, Liz."

"You're leaving?" she asked in surprise as he let go of her.

"That's what you want, isn't it?"

She didn't know what she wanted. There was a very big part of her that wanted him to stay.

"I'm—I'm confused," she admitted.

A spark entered his eyes. "Really? That's not a word I'd ever use to describe you. You're always very sure of your purpose, your goal."

"You usually are, too," she said. "So I'm thinking that maybe you're also a little confused."

A smile played around his lips. "I keep forgetting how smart you are. Smart, beautiful and sexy." He shook his head. "You have it all, Liz."

"Then why are you leaving?"

"You didn't ask me to stay." He paused. "Are you asking me?"

She drew in a breath. "I really want to, but—"

He nodded. "But you're not. I'm not surprised. We're in the middle of a competition. And you can't forget that. What I really want to know is if that is the only reason?"

"No," she admitted. "You shake me up, you challenge my thoughts, my plans. You make me question myself. And you make me feel a little needy. I don't know what to do with all those emotions."

"You do the same to me, Liz. You've been doing it since you were a teenager."

"I really thought you were messing with me back then."

"I wasn't. I liked you. You scared the hell out of me, but I still wanted to kiss you."

"I was the nerd with paint on her clothes; you were the most popular kid in school. We did not go together then."

"What about now?"

"I don't know."

For a long moment, they just looked at each other. "I have an idea," Michael said.

"What's that?"

"Let's just hang out. No fooling around. We'll watch a movie, make popcorn, talk."

She gave him a doubtful look. "I almost ripped your clothes off less than an hour ago. You think we're going to just talk if you stay here?"

He smiled. "I can control myself. Can you? We'll take sex off the table—for tonight. What do you say?"

She hesitated but the bottom line was that she didn't want him to go. She wanted to spend more time with him, and he apparently wanted to spend more time with her. "Okay. You can stay for awhile."

Chapter Twelve

We'll take sex off the table? What the hell was wrong with him?

Michael paced around Liz's studio while she was in the bathroom, wondering where those words had come from. Temporary insanity was the only reason he could come up with. Because clearly Liz was just as attracted to him as he was to her, and a better choice of words might have had them in bed together instead of looking forward to watching movies and hanging out.

He sat down on the couch and tried to think positively. He did want to spend more time with her. And, hell, things could change, right?

Maybe if he didn't say stupid things anymore.

He turned on the television and flipped through the channels to see if there were any movies on. Perhaps a good horror film, something to get his mind off sex. Or a sappy romance. Yeah, a chick flick. She'd be happy. He'd be bored, and then he'd go home.

Liz came out of the bathroom and gave him a tentative smile as she sat down on the couch. "Anything good on?"

"There's a holiday movie called
A Thanksgiving Love Affair
. What do you think?"

She made a face at him. "It sounds cheesy and stupid."

"It's a girl movie."

"Give me the remote."

"No way, I do not give up the remote."

"It's my TV."

"Yeah, but first one with the remote wins," he said, holding it out of reach as she made a quick grab for it. "I was a quarterback. I can dodge three-hundred-pound linebackers. You really think you're going to get this away from me?"

"Well, we're not watching that movie so find something else."

He flipped through several more channels. "There's not much else on."

"Stop," she ordered.

"What?"

"It's a true crime story," she said. "I love those. They start with the murder and then show you all the suspects. It's always surprising. And I love when the detectives find just the smallest clue and make a shocking connection."

"A shocking connection?" he echoed with a smile.

"Well, they usually are," she said defensively.

"Fine, we'll watch this."

"Do you want a drink or something?" she asked. "Before it gets started?"

"I'm good."

She grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and pulled her legs up under her.

"Hey, what if I'm cold?" he asked.

"I might be willing to share. Are you cold?"

As much as he wanted to get under that blanket with her, he knew that was a really bad idea, not if sex was off the table. "I'm okay for now."

"Suit yourself."

He turned up the volume as the story began and for the next hour he had to admit he became riveted by the telling of a murder in a small New England town and a very unlikely suspect. During commercial breaks, Liz continually changed her mind on who was guilty, and he loved watching her try to put all the clues together. He wasn't bad at that himself, but then he'd always liked puzzles. Which was probably why he'd always liked Liz.

After the drama ended, they watched some old reruns of sitcoms, one of which had a guest appearance by one of their former high school classmates. To remember what that classmate used to look like, Liz dragged out the high school yearbooks, and they talked and laughed about mean girls, mascots, bad teachers and good friends.

"Look at you here," Liz declared, pointing to a picture of him standing at the auditorium podium. "
Most likely to be President of the United States
."

"That was a bad call."

"It's how people saw you."

"As the most powerful man in the world?"

"Yes."

"Well they'll be disappointed when I show up at the high school reunion without the Secret Service."

"You'll still be the biggest celebrity in the room."

"What were you picked to be?"

"I was picked to be nothing, which was pretty typical of my high school experience. I wanted to be a leader, but it's hard to lead when no one wants to follow. You, on the other hand, were like the pied piper."

"Because I was selling fun, Liz. I was flash; you were substance. Teenagers don't want substance; they want flash."

She stared at him with a thoughtful gaze. "It's kind of nice that you know that." She paused. "What do you think Charlie Hayward wants?"

"I guess we'll find out."

"I have a feeling you'll be selling him fun."

"That is what he wants, Liz."

She shook her head. "No, what he wants is to sell out his park, to be the best in the world, to have people talking about him, to make money so he can keep expanding. I know how to make that happen. Do you?"

"I have some ideas and my sister does as well."

"Is she the one who's really going to come up with the plan?"

"We'll work together on it. What about your company? Are you going to bring in the partners?"

"No, I'm going to bring this account in by myself. Then the partners will have no choice but to make me a partner, too."

"Make sure there's still an actual Palmer in Damien, Falks and Palmer."

"That's right. I have to make sure they don't change the letterhead."

Michael frowned. "So this is about paper?"

"No it's about my dad's legacy. I have to protect it."

He heard the fervor in her voice. He understood that it came from a deep sense of loyalty and love for her father, but he couldn't help thinking she was running someone else's race. "What about your legacy, Liz?"

"The company will be mine, too—someday."

"Are you sure about that?"

"When I get Playworld, I'll be more sure." She paused. "My dad's former partners like to pretend that my dad never existed. But he was the heart of their firm. They were always jealous of him. My dad was the one with all the charm, bringing in all the accounts. But when he got sick, he couldn't take meetings the way he used to. Things started to fall apart for the company, so they wanted to bring in another partner, a younger guy who could do it all. My dad wanted me to take over his position. His partners fought him on it. They said I was too young, too inexperienced and that the firm needed to go in a new direction. My dad was furious. It set back his recovery because he was so angry. I hated to see him like that, so I told him I would take over the company for him. I would do what it took to become so valuable that his partners couldn't ignore me anymore or try to get me out."

"I get it, Liz, I do. I'm amazed by your loyalty to your dad, but I'm concerned about you."

"I'm fine. I'm tough. I can handle it."

He smiled at the fierce, protective light in her eyes, and he knew he couldn't change her mind. He just wished she could see the bigger picture. "What happens down the road?"

"What do you mean?"

"Let's say you do everything you intend to do. You're a partner with your dad's buddies. Is that going to make you happy? You're a creative person. Most importantly, you're your own person, and I don't see you having a good time dancing to someone else's beat."

"I can be a team player, and I will be happy, because it will make my dad happy. I love him, Michael. I can't do a lot for him, but I can do this. And so I will."

"Yeah." And now he really understood her motivation. She couldn't heal her dad, but she could make him happy, even if it was at her expense.

He was glad she'd confided in him, but a part of him also wished she hadn't. Knowing how much the Playworld account meant to her was not going to make it any easier to try to beat her. But he had his own family considerations to worry about.

"I just hope you're not pinning too much on this one account," he warned. "It's not just me you have to beat; there are two other competitors."

"I'm not worried about them. I've done some research on both Christa and Ed, and I don't think they can give Charlie what he wants."

"But you can."

"I absolutely can."

"You've never been short on confidence, Liz."

"You make that sound like an insult."

"I didn't mean it that way. It's actually a compliment. I learned a long time ago that you can't reach the top unless you believe you can. That's not all of it, of course. Desire, hunger, heart can only take you so far, but without those emotions, you can't get anywhere."