Owed: One Wedding Night

He kept up a steady flow of small talk masquerading as real conversation through their drinks, salad, and entrée. Every time she tried to shift the topic back to Dartmoor, he came up with some new question she couldn’t find a way to dodge.

After a while she stopped trying. Clearly the whole evening was a sham. He had no interest in her plan. He’d brought her here for revenge, pure and simple.

Which replaced nervousness about showing him her plan with a deeper anxiety about what he intended to do, and when.

The few bites of salad Niçoise she’d managed to eat were followed by even fewer bites of steamed mussels and garlic-mashed potatoes. The tension that left less and less room in her stomach for food also pushed all the air out of her lungs, so the polite chitchat became almost impossible.

“Dessert?”

She shook her head.

“Here, have some more wine.”

This was the third time he’d asked and she’d said no. Or was it the fourth? She put a hand over her glass. “I'm driving.”

His polite smile widened and something she didn’t trust twinkled in his eyes.

“I could give you a ride home.”

Anger restored the backbone that had been melting away all evening. She lifted her head to meet his vaguely mocking gaze.

“I'm not a member here anymore. If I leave my car in the lot overnight, they’ll have it towed in a nanosecond.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if he hadn’t quite decided whether to try to seduce her or not, then he set the wine bottle down and took the last bite of his steak.

She let out the breath she’d been holding, not a hundred percent certain she could resist a seduction, if he tried. Her defenses, never strong when it came to Jake, were way down after an evening spent watching his face, his sensual enjoyment of the food, the way his hands moved. An evening of remembering and storing up new memories for a future without him. Her whole body ached and burned with a desire that could only destroy her.

Maybe that was his revenge.

“So,” he asked casually as he finished his wine, “what poor fool did the Dartmoor Board convince to take over as their CEO?”

She swallowed a cry of pain as the blood drained from her face.

He couldn’t know, but this would be his true revenge. Not only had he refused to listen to her plan to save Dartmoor, now she’d have to reveal the one fact guaranteed to keep him from ever loaning them the money they needed. No reason to put off the inevitable.

“Me.”

He gave his head a little shake. “I beg your pardon?”

“They convinced me to take over as acting CEO.”

Jake understood the words one by one, but together they made no sense. He could imagine Madi as a management trainee, but CEO, even acting CEO of a multi-million-dollar corporation? No way. He decided to play along.

“You always said you wanted to be head of Dartmoor someday.”

She gave him a grim smile. “The operative word being someday. I fought them pretty hard, actually.”

Damn, it was true. A probably irrational anger burned through him.

“Why didn't you just go for it? I mean, you got your MBA a whole four months ago. What else would you need to run an operation the size of Dartmoor?”

Her posture stiffened as she lifted her head to match his gaze full on.

“I don’t run Dartmoor. I replaced my father, who hardly ever went into the office except to do the deed with his mistress. After he created the position of Chief Operating Officer, my father reduced the CEO’s role to vision, strategic planning, and hanging out at the club with the other old boys.”

He couldn’t suppress a grin at the image of her fulfilling that last role.

“So, your plan to fix Dartmoor is the official one?”

“It’s in the developmental stage. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.” Her posture went more rigid. “Which is a good thing, since I can’t get the one person I was sure we could count on for a loan to even look at the plan.”

She’d counted on him? Jake didn’t know how to feel about that. More anger was safest.

“You gave up any right to guilt-trip me when you left me at the altar, Madi.”

Her body seemed to melt in front of him like a candle set too close to a fire.

“You’re right. I only…” She sniffed. “My mother…”

He missed the warrior woman, but had no clue how to get her back. “I'm sorry.”

No, that sounded like an apology for what he said, but he’d meant it.

“I'm sorry your father was a jerk. I’m sorry he died. But I can’t loan you money I don’t think you can repay. If Dartmoor’s in as serious trouble as you say it is, no matter how much money you make as acting CEO, you won’t be making it for long.”

She gave a low laugh. “Real-life business lesson number one – never make a deal without doing your due diligence. When I took the job, I agreed to greatly reduced compensation from Dartmoor as a signal to our employees that I was serious about straightening out our financial problems. Then I learned how bad they were. My salary doesn’t even pay the rent. What I told you this afternoon is true. Mother and I are living on the principal of my trust fund.”

He resisted the need to touch her hand. “I wish I knew a way…”

A tiny spark lit in her eyes. “There is a way.” She reached down for her purse.

“No, Madi. There isn’t. But I am sorry.”

He was definitely a sorry person tonight. But what else could he say?

She carefully set her napkin on the table and started to stand.

“In that case, maybe I should go.”

He reached out and took her wrist. “Don't leave.”

For one moment her face softened before it hardened again and she glared at his hand.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he said.

Slowly she nodded and he let go.

He kept one eye on her while he signed for dinner. Twice she made a move as if to walk away, but both times their eyes met and she stayed. At least some of the old magic still worked.