Steal My Heart (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) (8 page)

"He's not mean, just depressed," her mom said.

"I guess." She opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a beer.

"So Amber, Liz brought home a man," Joan announced.

"Really? That's a first."

"I've had men here before," she said.

"Not in at least a year," Amber reminded her.

"Well, I've been busy." Between her dad's illness and trying to save her job, she hadn't had that much time to worry about dating and the few dates she'd been on had all been terrible. "I need to take this to Michael."

"Can I do it?" Hannah asked.

"Sure," she said, handing her niece the bottle. "My friend is sitting with Grandpa. Don't spill it."

"Okay, I won't," Hannah declared.

"So who is Michael?" Amber asked as she slid two trays of cookie sheets into the oven.

"He's a guy I went to school with. We ran into each other a few days ago at Playworld. He's competing for their PR account."

"So you're rivals again?" her mom said with a knowing smile. "Isn't that just crazy?"

"I certainly thought it was. I remember Dad mentioning that Michael had gotten hurt last season, but I guess I didn't realize the injury would end his career. Now he's working at his sister's firm and pitching for the same account I want."

"Just like old times," her mom said, adding for Amber's benefit, "Liz and Michael used to go head-to-head in school. He was a thorn in her side."

"More like a pain in the ass," she muttered.

Amber gave her a thoughtful look. "Then why bring him home to hang out with all of us?"

It was a good question. Fortunately, she had a logical answer. "I thought Dad might enjoy meeting him."

"And he did," her mom said. "His face lit up like a Christmas tree when you introduced Michael. I haven't seen Ron look that excited about anything in over a year. It was a good call, but what I want to know is what's really going on with you and Michael, Liz. He had his arm around you, and you looked quite friendly with the man I believe you once declared your sworn enemy."

"I was a little dramatic in high school."

Her mom laughed. "Not usually, but when it came to Michael, you definitely saw red. I can't count all the times you came home spitting mad from school, and his name was always on your lips."

"He pissed me off a lot."

"It sounds like you liked him," Amber interjected.

She shot her sister-in-law an annoyed look. "I did not like him."

"I think you did," her mother put in, agreeing with Amber. "That's why he bothered you so much."

"Because he was annoying and so good at everything. He wasn't just a great athlete, he was smart, too, and he always won whatever he went out for."

"He was quite popular," her mom agreed. "He was one of those kids that everyone liked, except you, of course."

"I have to meet this guy," Amber said with a laugh.

"Go for it," she told her sister-in-law. "I'll watch the cookies for you."

"Don't let the bottoms burn or Hannah will kill you," Amber said.

As Amber left the room, her mother gave her a gentle smile. "So, what's really going on, Liz?"

She sighed. "I have no idea. He's better than I remembered."

Her mom met her gaze. "Oh, honey, I always knew you had a big crush on him."

"Along with every other girl in school."

"Well, you're not in school anymore, and judging by the way he was looking at you a few minutes ago, I'd say he's definitely interested in you now."

"He's just trying to throw me off my game."

"You're always so suspicious. You get that from your dad. You don't let anyone in easily. And even when they're in your circle, you keep your eye on them. You're ready to bolt if someone is going to make a move to hurt you. I guess you have a very sharp survival instinct. But sometimes I worry that you'll push love away just because you're afraid of letting go, allowing the possibility of pain into your life. But, honey, sometimes you have to take a risk."

"I take risks."

"In your job, maybe. Although, I'm not even sure about that. It seems like you've gotten more cautious since your dad got sick."

"Well, I don't want to let him down. He has high expectations for me."

"I know. He wants you to be him." Her mom walked over and cupped her face with her hands. "But you're not him; you're you. And that's good, too."

For some reason, her mother's words brought unexpected moisture to her eyes. She blinked the tears away. "Thanks, Mom."

"Any time. You've been a rock since your dad got sick. And I know you're doing everything you can to make him proud and to protect his interests. But I don't want you to lose yourself, Liz."

"I'm going to try not to," she said. But there was a small part of her that wondered if it might be too late to make that claim.

Chapter Seven

Liz had just taken the cookies out of the oven when Amber and Hannah came back into the kitchen.

"Oh, my God, Liz, Michael is gorgeous," Amber said. "You cannot throw this one back."

"He's not a fish. I didn't catch him."

"Maybe you did," Amber said with a grin. "He asked if you were coming back."

"Sounds like he needs a rescue."

"I don't know about a rescue, but I think he's missing you."

She sincerely doubted that. Michael was probably just feeling overwhelmed by the football in the family room. She put some of the freshly baked cookies onto a plate. "I'll take these out to the guys."

"And stay there," her mother said. "Amber and I have things under control and Kelly will be here soon."

"I was wondering where Kelly was," she said, referring to Greg's wife.

"She had to show a house today, but she'll be here soon."

"How's the real-estate going?"

"Better since the market picked up," her mom said. "Sometimes, I think your dad and I should sell this big house. We really don't need all the rooms anymore."

She frowned at that. "You can't sell the house now. Not with Dad being sick and all."

"You're right. Now isn't a good time," her mom said, a more somber note in her eyes. "Forget I said it. Go entertain Michael."

After being pushed out of the kitchen, Liz made her way back into the family room. Her brothers and their boys were sprawled across all the chairs and couches, but Michael patted the small area of the couch next to him, so she slid in between him and her brother Tom.

"Where have you been?" Michael asked.

"Helping my mom in the kitchen. Everything okay out here?"

Before he could answer, her brothers jumped up, giving each other a high five as their team scored a touchdown."

"They're a little crazy," she told Michael.

"I've seen worse. It's actually kind of fun to be sitting with the fans. This is almost better than playing in the game."

"Almost?" she asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

"Okay, not even close, but it is fun. I haven't had an afternoon like this in a long time—make that ever."

"Really?" She wondered about the odd gleam in his eyes, but there was no opportunity to ask him to explain as her dad started peppering Michael with questions about the team's defensive line.

For the next few hours, there was nothing but football, family, and food. By seven o'clock, Liz had had enough of all three. After helping her mom clean up after dinner and seeing the guys ensconced in yet another game, she escaped up the stairs to her old bedroom.

The room was truly the room of her childhood. She'd moved out to go to college and except for a four-month-period right after college graduation; she hadn't lived in this house in a very long time. She smiled as she looked at the walls covered with her art. She'd certainly gone through some strange phases in her painting. At one time, she'd been obsessed with painting shadows of people. Other times, it was all about landscapes or crazy shapes.

And then there were the bookshelves filled with the books of her youth, adventures, mysteries, romance and biographies. She'd always been fascinated with the story of people's lives. Reading about how others made something special out of nothing had always inspired her to try a little harder.

"So this is where it all began," Michael said as he stepped into her room.

Her pulse jumped at his sudden presence and also at his words, because this was where it had all began—especially when it came to him. She'd spent quite a few hours lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling thinking about him. Sometimes those thoughts had been filled with hate. Other times, there had been some lust involved… Her cheeks warmed at the thought.

"What?" he asked, his gaze narrowing.

"What do you mean?"

"You just thought of something that made your face red."

"It's warm in here."

"No, it's not."

"Well, it is to me."

"Okay," he said, putting up a hand. "We don't have to argue about everything."

His words made her realize that she'd always used an argument as a way to get past her feelings about him. She just hadn't understood it at the time.

"Look at your art," Michael said, waving his hand toward the walls. "You're really good, Liz."

"I was good. I haven't painted in a long time."

"You should start again."

"I don't have time."

"You can make time for things that are important." He paused. "You just go around once, Liz. You have to do what's in your heart."

"You sound like Charlie Hayward."

"I understand Charlie and his dream of creating a world where people can remember what it's like to believe in the impossible."

She sighed, his words reminding her that he was the competition, and he was probably going to give her a run for the money. But that was a problem for tomorrow. She didn't want to think about work right now.

Michael walked over to her desk and picked up a framed photograph taken at her college graduation. "Who are all these women?"

"My closest friends. That's Julie next to me. And then there's Laurel, Andrea, Kate, Isabella, Maggie and Jessica. We met freshmen year and we were best friends all through college. We're still pretty close. In fact, we made a vow at graduation that no matter how far apart we drifted, we'd always make sure to come back for each other's weddings."

"And who was it that just got married?"

"Laurel. She's the third from the left—the one who tossed me the bouquet."

He smiled at her grumpy tone. "I thought girls wanted to catch the bouquet."

"Well, I didn't. Now all I hear from them every time we get together is when am I going to find someone so I can make the bouquet toss come true."

"That's a lot of pressure." He set the photo down. "You're lucky, Lizzie. You have a wonderful family and a lot of good friends."

"I am lucky. I want you to know that I do appreciate how great you've been. You made this Sunday really nice for my dad, and he hasn't had a lot of good days lately."

"He's getting better though, right?"

She shrugged. "We don't really know. We hope so. But he has to get through this next round of chemo before they can tell us where he's at. This has been the worst thing I've ever had to go through. It's hard to see him sick, because he was always such a strong man. Now, sometimes I look at him, and he's so fragile. It's terrifying. He's not that old. He's in his early sixties. This shouldn't be happening now."

"You're right. He's too young."

She was glad that he didn't try to tell her everything would be all right, because no one knew that for sure, and the words always rang hollow. "Thanks." She walked over to the French doors leading out to a small deck. She needed a little air.

Michael followed her out on the deck. They stood in silence for a moment, looking out at the trees, the stars and the quiet night.

"This was my dreaming place," she murmured, not sure why she felt the need to tell him that, but ever since she'd come home, she'd lost some of her defenses.

"What did you dream about?"

"Becoming something amazing. I didn't know what that something would be, but I knew it was out there."

"Have you found it yet?"

She wanted to say yes, but the word wouldn't come out. She settled for, "I don't know."

"That means you haven't found it." He paused. "I saw you up here that night I came to your house to talk to you."

"The night you chickened out?"

"You were standing right here and there was a little glow over your head from the moonlight. You looked like an angel."

She stared at him in astonishment. "Are you serious?"

"I am," he said quietly, no trace of amusement in his eyes now. "You were beautiful then, Liz, and you're even prettier now. I really wanted to kiss you, and I wanted you to kiss me back, instead of punching me in the nose."

Her heart was suddenly thumping against her chest. "You had a girlfriend, I'm pretty sure."

"No, I didn't. There were girls around, but I wasn't seeing anyone in particular. No one interested me as much as you did."

"Maybe I was just a challenge," she suggested, her voice a little breathless, because she felt like one of her childhood dreams was coming true right this minute.

"You were always a challenge. You still are."

"You're trying to spook me, to manipulate me, to get my mind off our competition," she said, suddenly feeling a little desperate.

"No, Liz. I'm not thinking about work. I'm thinking about kissing you, right here, right now."

He moved forward and she backed up against the rail. She swallowed a lump in her throat. "So, what's stopping you?" she asked as his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, but he made no move to make good on his desire.

"I don't think I could handle another broken nose."

She stared back at him, indecision running through her mind. But her mind was having a war right now with her body and with her emotions. It might be the stupidest move of her life, but she wanted to kiss Michael.

"I wouldn't hit you," she said softly.

"Is that a promise?"

She nodded. "Yes, but if you don't kiss me in the next ten seconds, I'm probably going to change—"

He cut off her words with a hot, purposeful kiss that went way beyond her wildest teenage imaginings. And Michael wasn't kissing her like a boy but like a man, a man who know what he wanted and expected to get it. Right now, he wanted her. She could hardly wrap her mind around that fact. But then her brain had turned to mush with the pressure of his lips against hers.