Steal My Heart (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) (15 page)

With that conference over, Michael felt at loose ends. He liked being the front guy, taking the meetings, making the pitch, but the actual work—that was obviously not going to be done by him. Erica seemed good with the division of labor, and he'd been okay with it, too, until now—until he'd talked to Hank, gone to a football game, and let Liz Palmer into his head.

Too restless to stay in the office, he jumped in his truck and headed out of the city. In his hurry to get the hell away from Liz the night before, he'd forgotten to give her the signed jersey and hat he'd gotten for her dad. But he didn't need to give it to her to deliver; he could take it to Palo Alto himself. A drive would be good for his head, and then he wouldn't have to see her again.

At least, he wouldn't have to see her until Thursday when there was a very good chance he'd run into her, because his pitch was right before hers.

After talking to Erica and Kent, he had even more confidence that he could sell their firm to Charlie, because he knew exactly what made the man tick. He was on his way to winning the Playworld account. He should feel good about that.

But he couldn't help thinking he was going to crush Liz.

It wasn't like high school when it didn't really matter who ended up homeroom monitor or student body president. Her reasons for needing to win were deep and emotional, and he felt her pain and her terror at the thought of losing her dad, her anchor. He knew that her commitment to her father's firm was more about that than anything else. And he shouldn't have goaded her the night before.

Not that she hadn't swung right back at him, challenging his motives, his desire to even be in PR, and making him wonder if he was cheating to try to win an account that he probably would only end up doing ten percent of the work on once it came to the agency.

Damn Liz. She always got under his skin.

Usually, because she was right.

Because her words had stung, he'd hit back at her, accusing of her something he knew she'd never do—tell Charlie he had another job opportunity. Liz liked to win, but she didn't play dirty. Not once, in all of their battles, had she ever taken the cheap shot.

He'd hurt her with the accusation.

Sighing, he hit his fist against the steering wheel. How the hell had the evening gone from great to terrible so fast? He always seemed to screw things up with Liz. And that bothered him because she was important. She mattered. She always had. She'd stuck in his head all the years they'd been apart.

He could barely remember the other women he'd dated. They'd all been attractive, fun, ready for a good time, and he'd had a lot of good times, but none of those women had ever challenged him in the way Liz did. No one had ever brought out the side of him that she did, the side that was more serious, that wanted to make something of his life.

He had been making something of his life, but now he was starting over. And each new step he took forward now seemed more uncertain than the last.

So he wouldn't take any steps for the rest of the day; he'd just drive. And think. And think some more.

By the time he arrived at Liz's parents' house in Palo Alto he was tired of the thoughts rolling around in his head and more than happy to get out of the truck. He rang the bell and a moment later, Liz's mom opened the door.

She gave him a happy smile of surprise. "Michael. I didn't expect you." She looked past him. "Is Liz with you?"

"No, she's not. I brought something for Ron. I was at the Blackhawks game last night, and my friend Keith Saxton signed a jersey and a hat for him. He wrote a little message, too."

"Oh my goodness. That is so wonderful and amazing. Ron loves Keith Saxton. He's one of his favorite players—well, after you, of course."

He smiled as she quickly backtracked. "You don't need to explain. I'm not a player anymore."

"Well, come on in."

"I don't want to disturb him."

"You won't be. He's just reading some book about World War Two. I know he'd love the company."

"Sure." He followed her into the house and down the hall to the family room.

Ron looked up and quickly brought his recliner into a sitting position. "Hello, Michael."

"Hi. I was at the Blackhawks' game last night. I brought you these." He handed the hat and jersey to Ron and then sat down on the couch.

"Are you kidding?" Ron asked in amazement.

"Saxton wrote a note to you," Joan added.

"Stay strong. We're rooting for you," Ron read. He cleared his throat and looked back at Michael. "This is great. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Can I get you something to drink, Michael?"

"No, I'm fine."

"I'll let you two chat," Joan said.

As Joan left the room, Michael turned back to Ron. "What did you think of the game last night?"

"I think they miss you as quarterback. The defense is on the mark, but the offense barely pulled it out. If it hadn't been for that penalty in the fourth quarter, the outcome could have been different."

"Absolutely, they dodged a bullet."

Ron tilted his head, giving him a thoughtful look. "Do you miss it, Michael?"

"More than I ever thought I would," he admitted. "Football was my life for a long time. I woke up thinking about plays and went to bed thinking about plays. I almost hated to sleep."

"That's what it takes to be good at something. You have to want it bad. Have you ever thought about coaching?"

His gaze narrowed. "Did Liz talk to you?"

"About what?" Ron asked, a question in his eyes.

"Nothing." He ran a hand through his hair, then said, "I have recently been considering the idea of coaching. The past year I thought it would be easier for me to be done with football in every possible way. Now, I'm not so sure."

"You're a young man. You have a lot of life to live. You lost the ability to play the game you loved on a professional level, but there's something else you're going to love doing. You just have to figure out what that is. The most important thing is to do whatever you do well, put your heart and soul into it. Sometimes, we end up in careers we never imagined. You'd be surprised what can get your heart pumping. It's not always what you expect."

"Did that happen to you? Did you end up in a career you hadn't planned on?" he asked curiously.

"Sure. What little boy dreams of running a PR company? I wanted to be a football player, too, but I just wasn't good enough. I played high school ball and that was it. Then I went into music. I started playing the drums for my friend's band. By the time I was out of college, I was playing gigs all around Los Angeles."

"I had no idea," he said in amazement.

"Music was a blast, but I was smart enough to know it didn't pay the bills. That's when I started thinking about a real job. I interned at a media company and found out I was great at marketing, visualizing promotions and figuring out what would persuade someone to buy something. And that's how I got into PR. I built a great company."

"You certainly did that. And now Liz is following in your footsteps."

"It was great when Liz came into the company. She became my sounding board, the one person I could really trust. And she was as good as I was."

As Ron spoke, Michael wondered if Ron had ever realized just how determined Liz was to save his company for him.

"Liz told me she's working hard to make partner."

Ron frowned. "Yeah, but she has an uphill battle in front of her. I know she loves a challenge, and she's as stubborn as they come, sometimes a little too stubborn. I wish—"

"Michael?" Liz interrupted. "What are you doing here?"

Michael turned around to see Liz standing in the doorway, anger in her eyes. "I brought your father the jersey and the hat," he explained.

"Oh. I forgot I left them in your truck."

"I was down this way anyway. Why aren't you at work?"

"Yes, why aren't you at work?" Ron echoed.

"I wanted to talk to you, Dad." She walked across the room and kissed her father on the forehead. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm doing all right. It's nice to have so much company. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Liz glanced at Michael.

"Do you want me to go?" he asked.

She hesitated, then shrugged. "It doesn't matter." She turned her gaze back to her father. "I have to tell you something, Dad. Brian was made partner today. Apparently, he brought in Triple Media Threat over the weekend. Even if I get Playworld, I probably won't get a partnership until next year."

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that."

"I didn't even know we were going after Triple Media. They've really kept me out of the loop."

"Well, what can you do?" Ron said, disappointment in his weary eyes.

"Maybe Bill and Howard will change their minds when they see the dollars coming in for Playworld. If I get it, of course," she added, giving Michael a quick glance. "That's still to be determined."

"I'm going to take off," Michael said, not wanting to get in the middle of their private conversation.

"No need to rush off," Ron said quickly.

"I have an appointment," he said.

"Thanks again for the jersey and the hat."

"I'm glad you like them." He got up and shook Ron's hand.

"I'll walk you out," Liz said, surprising him with the offer.

They didn't speak until they got to his truck. Then Liz surprised him again.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what exactly?"

"For what I said last night. Sometimes when I start to feel backed into a corner, I come out swinging."

He smiled. "Both literally and metaphorically."

"You're never going to forget that, are you?"

"I'm reminded every time I look in the mirror."

"Anyway—"

"Why did you feel backed into a corner?" he interrupted. "We were just talking."

"I think it was looking at the yearbook that triggered my insecurity. I started remembering how you always beat me, and I had a little panic attack."

He appreciated how candid she was being. "I get it. I should apologize, too."

"No, you were right, Michael. Everything you said about me was true. I can't save my dad's life, so I'm trying to save his company, but the truth is I can't do that, either. I saw that today. I'll never be able to get the power that he had."

"Maybe that's all right, Liz. Some things run their course. Careers change. Your dad was just saying that to me."

She gave him a quizzical look. "What do you mean? What were you talking about?"

"We were talking about football, and he mentioned that he once wanted to play, then realized he wasn't good enough. Then he tried music and realized he still needed to make money. So he found something he was really good at, but it wasn't what he imagined. He told me I should keep my mind open."

She stared back at him, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"What?" he asked.

"I forgot that my dad used to drum. He used to play when I was little, but then he got so involved in building his company, he let that go."

"He found a new dream."

"I guess he did."

Her gaze met his, and his gut tightened. He felt such an emotional pull towards her. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and comfort her after what had obviously been a bad morning, but in her eyes, he was the enemy. He really wanted another title.

"Michael." She said his name with a breathless murmur, then gave a helpless shake of her head. "I don't know what we're doing."

"We're just standing on a sidewalk."

"I know, but—"

"But it's what is going on in your head that worries you."

"Exactly."

"I don't have any answers," he admitted. "I think we're good together, but there's always something between us, something to win, something to lose… Until that changes—"

"We just stand on the sidewalk," she said.

"Well, at least we know we can finish each other's sentences," he said lightly.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, seeing a text from Erica. She had a new idea she wanted to run by him. "I better take this."

"Of course. Thanks for bringing the jersey down. That was really thoughtful of you, Michael."

"It wasn't a big deal. I guess I'll see you at Playworld. May the best man—or woman—win."

Chapter Fourteen

By late Wednesday afternoon, Liz wasn't thinking so much about winning as about quitting. After sending her proposal to Brian and the other partners, she'd received a detailed critique of just about every aspect of her plan. It was clear that no one had any confidence in her, and now she was having a few doubts herself.

After she'd left Michael yesterday, she'd gone back into her parents' house and asked her dad to tell her about his music career again. She'd spent the afternoon with her mom and dad, laughing and listening to their stories—stories she'd heard dozens of times before, but somehow she'd forgotten most of them. In fact, listening to her dad talk about his dream of making the cover of
Rolling Stone
had made her realize that he had had other passions besides this company.

Which got her to thinking…

Michael had asked her if she was planning to spend her whole life walking in her dad's footsteps.

Brian had told her she thought just like her dad, but that was old-fashioned thinking. She needed to become more cutting-edge.

Bill and Howard had made her feel like the uninvited guest at a very long birthday party.

So what the hell was she fighting for?

She'd thought saving her dad's company would make him happy, give him something to smile about, but the truth was the happiest she'd seen him in recent months had been Sunday when they'd all watched football together as a family and yesterday when he'd told her about his life as a drummer.

Had the company become less important in his mind now that he's retired, and she'd somehow missed that?

She frowned at the thought. She hadn't made up his desire to have her protect his interests, but maybe they were both starting to realize that they couldn't hang on to a past that was in truth already gone.