The Hardest Fight

Kendall threw up her hands. “I don’t know what happened five years ago. You didn’t want to talk about it then, and I’m sure I won’t get it out of you now. But he was the only guy I ever thought had a real chance with you. You two seemed so perfect together.”

Lucy wasn’t perfect for anyone. She had been guilted into this conversation, and now it was over. Lucy didn’t let any man have a chance with her because what was the point? She was a ticking time bomb.

Cancer was always lurking around the corner. It was sinister, biding its time, waiting for Lucy to drop her guard and believe she was safe from its clutches. She’d beaten it once, but how long would it really be before it put her to the test again? She certainly wasn’t going to ask someone to commit to her when their lives might have very different expiration dates.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_002ce93d-85b0-5046-96e0-ebc570fb8601)

DYLAN DROVE HOME and sulked on his couch for a few minutes before the urge to do something with his hands overtook him. Fixing and fiddling with things were the best stress relievers. Dylan had installed all the crown molding in his apartment with Eugene’s help. A former carpenter, Eugene often spent hours teaching Dylan how to do things right the first time. Together, they had refurbished the fireplace in Dylan’s place and updated all the trim work in Eugene’s.

The building they lived in was an older greystone that was split into two residences. Eugene had the downstairs two-bedroom unit and Dylan owned the two-story loft above it. Moving here had been the best decision he’d made after Lucy broke up with him. He could have easily afforded a fancy rehab in the neighborhood, with all the modern conveniences, but Dylan found he enjoyed taking something that was a little rough around the edges and sprucing it up on his own.

His latest project was the kitchen. Since he rarely cooked, it wasn’t a big deal for him to take his time updating it. Dylan had stained the cabinets a dark, warm gray. With the stainless steel appliances and marble backsplash he’d picked out, it was going to be ultrastylish. He needed Eugene’s help to hang the uppers, but he figured he could put the door pulls on the lower cabinets tonight.

It was a mindless task, which wasn’t good. It allowed his thoughts to wander back to Lucy. The woman had a way of making him want to run away and never leave her side at the same time. In the end, he had decided that if she didn’t want him around, he wasn’t going to force someone to care about him.

He had no idea where he had gone wrong with Lucy and often wondered what his life would have been like if they had stayed together. Would they be married right now? Would they have kids? Would they be happy, or would she be miserable?

Dylan wasn’t sure he could make her happy. It was too difficult to tell how she really felt about anything. Whenever he thought he had her figured out, she made sure he knew he’d been wrong. He still couldn’t believe he had misread her feelings for him so completely. He had never hidden his feelings from her. He loved her so much he worried he would love her forever. Unrequited love was a horrible cross to bear.

His phone rang. It was his mother. He couldn’t avoid her at this time of night. In her opinion, if he was working this late, it was work that could be interrupted by a call.

“Dylan Hunt,” he answered as if he didn’t know it was her.

“How did it go today? I didn’t hear anything from Elizabeth. Does that mean the deal went through?”

Did she micromanage everyone this way? He was sure she didn’t. It felt as if she never trusted him to be competent enough. He’d felt that his entire life. He was determined to prove he was capable, which was why he’d taken on this particular case.

“The board is still considering its options. If they vote to sell, they’ll hopefully sell to Prime Developments. Not much more I can do at this point but wait.”

“I see Lucy Everhart works there. Is that the same woman who stole the Wigmore Key from you?”

Dylan rubbed his temples. The Wigmore Key wasn’t something that could be stolen. His mother still resented the fact that Lucy had won the prestigious award from Northwestern Law instead of Dylan. What she failed to realize—or maybe just wouldn’t admit—was that Lucy had earned it.

“She’s the same woman who won the award.”

“Well, there you go. You need to use your relationship with her to move things along. What more do you need than an alumni connection?”

Dylan couldn’t stand how his mother saw relationships only in terms of what two people could do to advance each other’s plans. He also hated that she refused to acknowledge that Lucy was more than a rival from school.

It didn’t seem to matter to her that Lucy and Dylan had dated for years. Or that she was the woman he’d wanted to marry and the one who obliterated his heart. To Clarissa, they had graduated from the same law school and Lucy should give Dylan what he wanted out of respect for that connection.

“I don’t think Lucy views our shared past as a reason to work with Prime Developments.” He didn’t want to tell her how Lucy had sworn not to let the board deal with anyone associated with him personally. “I’m going to keep my distance and let the board think things over.”

His mom sighed. “That sounds like the exact opposite of what you should do, Dylan. If that house goes into foreclosure, there will be plenty of people vying to snatch it up in an attempt to force Prime to buy it from them for a killing. You need to use every advantage you’ve got to get this done quickly.”

He had nothing except one very angry ex-girlfriend. “I have it under control. The executive director is still on the fence about selling. If I lean on her a little and she supports the sale, the deal will go through for sure. The board trusts her and her judgment.”

“Then do it. Do whatever you need to do to gain her trust. What does she need? Give it to her in exchange for the deal.” She pulled the phone away to talk to someone else for a moment. It was no surprise that she was still at the office so late into the night. The woman never stopped. If she could find a way to sleep and work at the same time, she would do it. “I have a case to get back to. We’ll do lunch next week. I’ll have my assistant set something up with yours.”

She’d never offered to get together for lunch before. Dylan was so caught off guard he didn’t get a chance to accept the invitation before his mother hung up. There had to be some ulterior motive. She was probably displeased about something and needed to scold him in person to make her point. Maybe he wasn’t billing enough. He definitely wasn’t working as many hours as she’d like. Maybe she had caught wind of the rumor that he’d been asking about doing some pro bono work. That wasn’t really a rumor. He was seeking something a little more spiritually satisfying than what he’d spent the past few years doing.

Scrubbing his face, he wondered how much more of this he could take before he broke. This job, this life—none of it was what he’d dreamed of. There was more than enough money in the bank, but money couldn’t buy him anything he really wanted.

What he wanted was a blonde fireball with dreams bigger than both of them. He wanted her to smile when she saw him and put her hand in his whenever she was near. He wanted to kiss her lips anytime they were close enough and to feel her heart beat in rhythm with his.

Dylan had lived a charmed life, for sure. He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He grew up in the lap of luxury, wore designer clothes, drove the fanciest cars and went to the best schools. But what Dylan wanted had nothing to do with money and material things. He wanted a family of his own. He had wanted that family to begin with Lucy, but he could never deny her anything.

So, if she wanted a fight, he’d give her one.

* * *

GIVING PAIGE CLAYTON what she wanted was fairly easy once he thought about what she really needed. Dylan entered Open Arms with a few helpers in tow.

“Can I help you?” her assistant asked, standing up to see why they were invading.

“Is Ms. Clayton in?”

Ms. Clayton came out of her office and stopped short when she saw Dylan. “Mr. Hunt, how can I help you?”

Lucy came flying out of her office, apparently at the sound of Dylan’s name. She was in jeans and a T-shirt today. Casual never looked so good. “Seriously? What are you doing here?”

“I noticed your office furniture has seen better days. You said you’d love any donations, and we had some chairs and such sitting in storage. I was hoping you could use them.”

He motioned for them to join him by the door so they could see the chairs and other goodies he had brought with him. Ms. Clayton’s mouth dropped open and he could practically hear her internal squeal at the thought of getting a real desk chair. Lucy didn’t appear as excited, not that his perception meant anything. She could be just as thrilled, but she wouldn’t show it.

“We don’t need hand-me-downs from Stevens and Ellis,” she said, stepping back toward her office.

“Uh, yeah, we do,” Ms. Clayton said, giving Dylan a pat on the shoulder. “This is really kind of you.”

Lucy let out a harsh, derisive laugh. “He’s trying to bribe us, Paige! We don’t take bribes, Dylan. It’s unethical for your firm to give us anything.”

“This is a personal donation. I bought them from Stevens and Ellis with my own money, and I want you to have them. Would you like to see the receipt?” He pulled a sheet of paper from his back pocket.

“Personal donations are completely ethical. We accept, Mr. Hunt,” Ms. Clayton said. “Bring those babies in here.”

Dylan’s guys brought in all the new office furniture and helped remove all the broken, worn-out stuff. Ms. Clayton smiled ear to ear while Lucy stood with arms crossed and a scowl on her face. This had to mean she was unhappy, but Dylan noticed she swapped her desk chair for a new one. She never did what he expected; at least that much was predictable about her.

Once everything was in place, he sent his hired hands away and made Ms. Clayton one more offer she couldn’t possibly refuse.

“I noticed there are a couple of things that could use fixing around here.” Dylan pointed to the hole in the wall by the entrance and the broken light fixture above Ms. Clayton’s assistant’s desk. “I have a friend who could help me get these things patched up for you in no time.”

“We don’t have a budget for repairs right now,” Ms. Clayton said, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Thank you for offering, though.”

“Oh, no, it would be another donation,” Dylan clarified. “I would take care of all the materials. Eugene and I would do the work ourselves.”

“You would do the handiwork?” Lucy leaned against her doorjamb.

He tried not to be offended. His Mr. Fix-It side hadn’t shown itself until after she left him. She didn’t have to act so surprised by it, though.