Winning Back His Bride

“For now.”

Very bad didn’t begin to describe this meeting. And he would know how she felt unless she got out of here now.

“I’ll work up a proposal.” She stood. “But before I get started, Michael, I need an answer to my question.”

“Which one?” he asked, standing too.

She looked way up at him, six feet of solid muscle and sophisticated suave sex appeal. Her insides quivered with memories of the short time he’d been hers. Then the memories became a fist squeezing her heart, making it difficult to draw in air.

“Do you intend to terminate my contract because of what happened between us?”

He settled his hands on lean hips. “Didn’t we just have a meeting about an event I expect you to plan?”

“I got that. But are you going to change your mind? We’ll have to work closely together and I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t work with me at all.” If he simply let her out of her contract, it would be the clean break she needed to avoid this emotional free-for-all and maintain her professional reputation.

“That would imply I hadn’t forgiven you.”

“Have you?”

Michael folded his arms over his impressive chest and smiled his pretty smile, the one that always crumbled her defenses like stick houses in a stiff breeze. “I always say—forgive your enemies. It messes with their heads.”

That was nothing new. For the last year thoughts of him had messed with her head even when she hadn’t seen him. Now he was back in her life and that meant he could mess with her heart unless she figured out a way to Michael-proof it.

“Geneva. I need—”

Need? The word stopped Michael. He didn’t need, not from her. He wouldn’t let himself need anything from her. At least not personally. Professional needs were different.

“We have to talk.”

Michael watched her back stiffen and braced himself. He thought he’d done that a week ago, before seeing her again. He’d thought he’d been prepared for eyes so big, so green he could fall into them. For the thick, shiny brown hair that made him want to bury his fingers in the silken strands. For the deep dimples that could drop a man to his knees when she smiled and the body that could tempt him to throw caution to the wind.

He’d thought wrong.

It had been a year, for God’s sake, and when she’d walked into his office he’d wanted to terminate her contract on the spot. The problem was, he was still putting together the project’s financing. His past with Geneva was no secret, and firing her could be a disaster. Perception was everything. If he couldn’t handle having an old girlfriend around, how was he going to deal with the stress of a billion-dollar development?

Or worse, it could look like he was reacting emotionally, which would fuel rumors that he couldn’t manage the company with a steady hand and a clear head. None of it was a big deal, but he’d seen the stock market rise and fall on less. Any hint of weakness could be enough to trigger investor doubt. Without investors, the project would be dead in the water.

That was unacceptable. He was stuck with her, and he’d realized it when he’d decided to go forward with the deal. But he’d had a year to prepare himself. It should have been enough.

He’d expected to feel nothing and hadn’t been ready for the grinding knot of need at his first glimpse of Geneva. He wouldn’t make the same mistake.

He’d deliberately waited a week to see her again, giving her time to squirm and wonder what he was up to. The meeting of his operations team had just ended. He hadn’t missed the fact that Geneva sat in the chair closest to the door—and farthest from him.

So what else was new? She’d left him at the altar. Like an idiot, he’d actually thought about going after her. Before making a fool of himself he realized there was nothing to talk about. She’d said she couldn’t marry him. End of story.

As she walked toward him now, his gaze settled on her mouth and a jolt of awareness arced through him. End of attraction? Not so much.

She stopped two feet away from him, at the head of the long, mahogany conference table. “Yes?”

“Something’s come up,” he said.

“Don’t tell me. You changed your mind.”

“About?”

“Firing me.” She lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder at the group of executives milling around talking. Then she met his gaze again. “You wanted more witnesses when you made the announcement.”

“And why would I want that?” He was irritated when he caught himself staring at her mouth again.

“An eye for an eye.”

“You still think I’m after revenge.”

“A natural assumption considering you once told me your philosophy. And not the one about forgiving your enemies.”

She shrugged and tried to look as if she didn’t give a damn. It didn’t work. One of the things he’d instantly liked about her was that everything she was thinking showed on her face. She couldn’t hide what she was feeling. Then she’d proven him wrong by blindsiding him the day he’d planned to make her his. And it had been very public. Especially for a man who didn’t like getting blindsided at all.

The day she’d left him at the altar had been the second worst day of his life. It was only topped by the day he’d found out his parents were killed in a plane crash.

He forced the thoughts away and struggled to focus. “I have another philosophy?”

“Don’t get mad. Get even,” she reminded him. “And stay on top.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “That one.”

Getting mad didn’t help. He’d tried that first. He’d also considered backing out of the hotel deal after she’d backed out of their wedding. But he refused to let her win. He also couldn’t fire her. Getting even? The thought held some appeal.

“So am I canned?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked guardedly.

“Teri is getting married.”

“Please convey my congratulations to your sister.”

“You can do it yourself. You’re going to plan the engagement party and wedding.”

She stared at him for several moments. “Isn’t this where you say ‘gotcha?’”

“I couldn’t be more serious.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Your sister could elevate grudge-holding to an art form. The Teri Sullivan I know would take her vows at city hall and meet at Fat-burger for the reception before letting the same woman who left her brother at the altar plan her wedding.”

“Maybe. But Teri still wants you.”

Struggling for indifference, Michael slid his hands into his pockets. How the hell could he still want her after all this time? After what she’d done? But he knew. He’d never quite been able to stop wanting her. Or stop missing the feel of her in his arms at night. And he was having trouble getting the “hands off” message from his brain to the appropriate body parts. At least he could explain that. It was a purely physical reaction to a strikingly beautiful woman.