tried to contact her, always getting her voice mail, until he’d discovered from the receptionist at her design firm that Megan had given two weeks’ notice and skipped town to go back home to Indianapolis.
To hell with it, he’d decided. His male pride had been stung, and he’d already put it on the line enough by breaking his cardinal rule: don’t look back.
He’d never been dumped before. He was used to leaving women, not having women leave him. His breakup with Megan had been the first time he’d experienced being cast aside, and he hadn’t liked it.
“Why are you here?” Megan demanded now, her green eyes flashing.
To get some answers, and as it happens, I need to hire an interior designer. He’d figured he’d enjoy having Megan on his payroll, playing it until he got some answers, and in the meantime, keeping the pressure on—letting her see just what she’d walked away from.
Now, he shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? I need an interior designer to update the look of the Garrison Grand. Your firm has done work on various Garrison properties in the past, including the Garrison Grand.”
“Why ask for me?” She gestured around her. “Any number of people in this office could help you.”
Because I’m going to enjoy seducing you back into my bed. “Because you’re one of the best interior designers in town, and you’re the one who’s most familiar with the Garrison account.”
He hadn’t shown up with the intention of reignit ing their affair, but now he’d seen her again, the idea appealed increasingly.
Her response as to why she’d ended their relationship had been only a little more satisfying than the one she’d given him by phone, and he wasn’t sure he bought it: their affair had been so hot, he thought his fingers would be singed.
Now that she was back in town—and back in his orbit, by his own doing—he intended to dig a little deeper.
Conrad had told him he and the other partners had lured Meghan back to the firm. They needed new blood, and she was that good.
Megan opened and closed her mouth. “But we—”
“—slept together?” he finished for her.
At her indrawn breath, he arched a brow. “You have a problem working for former lovers?”
“This is the first time I’ve had to face the situation!”
“What? Worried about maintaining your professionalism?”
“It’s not my professionalism I’m worried about,” she retorted.
He swept her a look, letting his gaze linger on her chest before coming back to meet her mutinous gaze.
He smiled slowly. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
She raised her chin. “I’ll ask that someone else be assigned to work on the Garrison Grand.”
“Careful, sweetheart. The Garrison property is one of the most lucrative accounts your firm has going. You wouldn’t want to be the one who caused your firm to lose it.”
Her eyes widened, and color seeped into her face, masking the dusting of freckles there—freckles that he’d spent one memorable night kissing, one by one.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she gritted.
He shrugged. “Since you’re just back in the office, I’m assuming you’ve got the most time to devote to a new account. You’re going to find it hard to explain to your partners why you can’t.”
Her shoulders heaved, and her lips compressed.
“Fine,” she said finally.
He looked back at her blandly.
“But our relationship this time is strictly business.”
He inclined his head. “Whatever you say…Meggikins.”
He was going to enjoy coaxing Megan Simmons back into his bed. And this time, she’d leave only when he asked her to.
Two
Megan stepped past the liveried doorman and into the cool lobby of the Garrison Grand.
The change was a welcome respite from the heat outside. She’d dressed for the hot weather in a lime-green sheath dress with a short matching jacket, her feet encased in strappy sandals.
A couple of men sent appreciative looks her way.
She knew that as a tall redhead in heels, she was hard to overlook—even if she wore her hair tied back and constrained, as it was today.
What she wasn’t used to, she thought, as she looked around at the hotel guests in the lobby, was the cool sophistication of Stephen’s world.
She’d almost forgotten what this world was like, having spent the past few years variously wiping baby food off her shirt, reading nursery rhymes and teaching Jade how to use the potty.
Now though, as she surveyed the women with lithe tanned bodies dressed in halter tops or less, and the men projecting a chic style in khakis and designer shirts, she knew she had to gird herself for today’s meeting.
Glancing to her left, she noticed Stephen walking toward her from across the lobby.
She watched as he was waylaid by an employee, then as his progress was halted again by someone who appeared to be a familiar hotel guest.
When he finally approached, she said, “I thought I was meeting one of your executives.”
“Change of plans,” he said, cupping her elbow and gently steering her with a subtle pressure.
He slanted her a look. “That is, unless you mind it’s me.”
“No,” she responded automatically. Since she had been the one to call their relationship strictly professional, she had no choice but to stick to the script. “Of course I don’t care.”
Of course I care. Just being in the same room with him was enough to make her tense and jittery.
As it was, little shock waves coursed through her from the casual contact of his hand at her elbow.
They walked across the majestic soaring lobby toward the elevators. One end of the lobby led to the street, and the other end, with columns alternating with billowing white curtains, opened onto the Garrison Grand’s private beach. The smell of surf and sand wafted in.
She hadn’t been able to stop herself over the years from reading the occasional news article about Stephen and the Garrison Grand. The hotel had kept a fantastic reputation while she and Stephen had been dating, but it had surpassed itself since then, becoming the it place for the rich and famous who flocked to South Beach.
Walking through the lobby now, she could understand why. Stephen seemed to keep everything new and cutting edge.
