Realizing That Matt Had Gotten Awfully Quiet, She Glanced Up And Caught Him Staring At The Front Of Her Shirt.

Again. All through dinner he’d been looking at her, undressing her with his eyes.

“They’re breasts, Matt. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty, so mine shouldn’t be all that fascinating.”

He had the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry, I just can’t get used to the way you look now.”

“Different, right?”

“Good, Em. You look really good.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let’s be clear on something, Conway. Friendship is one thing but I am not, under any circumstances, going to sleep with you again.”

Something hot and dangerous sparked in his eyes and her knees instantly went mushy. “That sounds like a challenge, Emily. And you know how much I love a challenge.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome to another stellar month of smart, sensual reads. Our bestselling series DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS comes to a compelling conclusion with Leanne Banks’s Shocking the Senator as honest Abe Danforth finally gets his story. Be sure to look for the start of our next family dynasty story when Eileen Wilks launches DYNASTIES: THE ASHTONS next month and brings you all the romance and intrigue you could ever desire…all set in the fabulous Napa Valley.

Award-winning author Jennifer Greene is back this month to conclude THE SCENT OF LAVENDER series with the astounding Wild in the Moment. And just as the year brings some things to a close, new excitement blossoms as Alexandra Sellers gives us the next installment of her SONS OF THE DESERT series with The Ice Maiden’s Sheikh. The always-enjoyable Emilie Rose will wow you with her tale of Forbidden Passion—let’s just say the book starts with a sexy tryst on a staircase. We’ll let you imagine the rest. Brenda Jackson is also back this month with her unforgettable hero Storm Westmoreland, in Riding the Storm. (A title that should make you go hmmm.) And rounding things out is up-and-coming author Michelle Celmer’s second book, The Seduction Request.

I would love to hear what you think about Silhouette Desire, so please feel free to drop me a line c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279. Let me know what miniseries you are enjoying, your favorite authors and things you would like to see in the future.

With thanks,

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor

Silhouette Desire

The Seduction Request
Michelle Celmer

MICHELLE CELMER

lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mom, you can find her in the garden weeding or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm real hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.

Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her Web site at www.michellecelmer.com, or write her at P.O. Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017.

To R.D.R.

We miss you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

One

“Dress it up however you like, Conway, but behind all your money and fame, you’ll always be trailer trash to the people of this town.”

The line went dead and Matt Conway snapped his cell phone shut, fighting off a sense of unease. He should have expected his homecoming would ruffle a few feathers, that some people from his past would never accept him, yet it still stung. Despite everything he’d accomplished, he felt like a vulnerable kid again.

Shaking off the all-too-familiar sensation, he clipped the phone on his belt and gazed around the partially constructed restaurant interior, dragging a bandana across his sweaty brow. He breathed in the scent of freshly cut pine, waiting to feel the satisfaction, the deep sense of accomplishment he’d more than earned. This was to be restaurant number twenty in the Touchdown Bar and Grill chain, yet this one erected in his hometown of Chapel, Michigan, held special meaning. It was a symbol.

The kid who’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks now owned sprawling homes in three different countries. He’d traded in the beat-up vehicle of his youth for a medley of vintage cars any collector would salivate over. He had achieved nearly every financial goal he’d set for himself.

So why, he wondered, would a man who had accomplished everything he’d set out to do feel this…dissatisfaction? Why would he feel deep down that he was still, as his mystery caller had so succinctly put it, trailer trash. He worked longer hours, pushed himself to the absolute limit, yet that gratification, that feeling that he’d finally arrived, eluded him.

He was sure this restaurant would be the key. If he ever finished it, that is. Each day dawned with a new problem to delay construction further. They were set to open on Labor Day, only two months away, and were already three weeks behind schedule. He had too much riding on this. While there was always the possibility a restaurant could fail, the odds were stacked against him this time.

Chapel, Michigan, population ten thousand, wasn’t exactly known for its trendy night spots. Touchdown would either bring in patrons from surrounding areas and boost revenue for the city, or it would flop within the first year.

It was a risk he was willing to take. A risk he had to take.

Someone called his name, and he turned toward the voice, grinning when he spotted his best friend, Tyler Douglas, standing in the doorway. Ty cleared the space between them in two long strides and pulled Matt into a bear’s embrace, slapping him hard on the back. “Damn it’s good to see you. What’s it been, almost six months since I visited California?”

“At least that.”

“So how does it feel? Your first return home in what, eleven years?”

“Things have changed a lot.” But not so much that he didn’t get the same feelings of inadequacy. The impression that when people looked at him, they would forever see his parents. In California, people saw a man who had everything he could possibly want.

Honestly, he couldn’t decide who was more disillusioned.

“I should have known you couldn’t sit around and watch without getting your hands dirty.” Ty spun in a slow circle. “They’ve come a long way since construction started.”

“Thanks for keeping an eye on things for me. And I can’t thank you and your parents enough for selling me the property. I know it’s been in your family for a long time. Sitting right on Main Street, I couldn’t ask for a better location.”

“Are you kidding? You’re part of the family.” Ty leaned against a stud that would eventually support the wall separating the dining area from the game room. “As a matter of fact, that’s sort of why I’m here. I have an important favor to ask.”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation. “Just name it.”

“I want you to seduce my sister.”

Matt’s heart skipped a beat—then it felt as though it had stopped beating altogether. If there was a last woman in the world he wanted to seduce—or more to the point, should seduce—it was Ty’s sister Emily. “You’re kidding. Right?”

Ty’s expression was serious. “I know you guys had some kind of falling out before you left for California, but before you say no, hear me out.”

“Falling out” was a mild way of describing what had transpired between himself and Emily. More like, he’d broken her heart and deserted her. But to have led her into thinking there was hope of a relationship would have been dishonest. Despite what he’d felt for her, she deserved more than he was willing to give. And though they’d vowed to remain friends, things had never quite been the same after their one night together.

He’d never been the same.

But it wouldn’t hurt at least to hear Ty out before he said hell no. He crossed his arms over his chest and took a seat on an unoccupied sawhorse. “I’m listening.”

“There’s a problem with Emily’s boyfriend.”

A sensation that felt too much like jealousy soured his stomach. Of course Emily would have a boyfriend. She was a grown woman. Did he really think she’d been in limbo all these years, unable to love anyone but him?

Well, a guy could hope…

No. He shouldn’t hope things like that. He didn’t. He wanted Emily to be happy. She deserved to be happy. “What kind of problem?” he asked Ty.

“I know she wants to get married and have a family, but this guy is in no hurry to commit. It’s a dead-end relationship. I think deep down she’s unhappy but isn’t ready to admit it to herself. I’m sure it’ll only take a nudge and she’ll realize the mistake she’s making. That’s where you come in.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Spend time with her. Show her how much happier she could be without him. My parents and I have tried to talk to her about it, but you know how stubborn she can be. She’ll stay with the guy on principle alone if it proves us wrong.”

“Ty, I’m not in the market for a wife and family. If that’s what she’s looking for, she’s not going to find it in me, and I won’t lie.”

“I’m not asking you to lie. By all means be honest with her.”

“I’m a little fuzzy on the seducing concept. How far do you expect me to take this?”

“As far as you have to.”

Matt could hardly believe what Ty was suggesting. “We are talking about the same Emily, right? Your twin sister. The same sister guys were afraid to ask out in high school for fear you would break their legs? That Emily?”

“You know, you could try just being her friend.”

And suppose a friendship wasn’t enough? It hadn’t been back then. And though hurting Emily in the past had been unavoidable, he didn’t want to hurt her again. He hated the idea that she was unhappy, but he wasn’t necessarily the man to remedy that.

Ty’s tone turned dark. “There is something else. My parents and I have reason to believe this guy might be into something illegal. He and Emily work together. If he’s caught, she could be guilty by association.”

Apprehension raised the hair on the back of his neck. “Illegal how?”

“He owns a nursery. They have shipments coming in constantly from all over the world and he’s always going out of the country on business.”

Genuine fear clenched his gut. “Drugs?”

“That was our first thought.”

“So tell her you’re suspicious.”

“What, and you think she would actually believe me? This is Emily we’re talking about. The queen of I’m right and you’re wrong. She would laugh in my face.”

Matt cursed under his breath, and growled, “Let’s just beat the guy within an inch of his life and make him break up with her.”

“And you know exactly what Emily would do.”

He did. She was so damned stubborn she would stay with the guy just to spite them.

“Emily doesn’t do anything halfway. If she breaks off the relationship, there’s no way she’ll keep working with him and the problem will be solved.” Ty’s tone turned pleading. “If you won’t do it for me, do it for my parents.”

When Ty put it that way it was difficult to say no. Growing up, the Douglases had been Matt’s only real family. He’d shared countless dinners with them, slept over a thousand times, had even gone with them on family vacations. When his own parents couldn’t pull themselves out of a drunken stupor long enough to buy something as basic as new tennis shoes, Ty and Emily’s parents always seemed to find a pair—brand new no less—lying around the house that just happened to be the right size.

Matt owed them. And God knows he owed Emily.

If Ty was right about her boyfriend, it would be worth the sacrifice. No one was going to mess with Emily and live to tell about it as long as he was around.

“I’ll do it,” he told Ty. “Just tell me when and where.”

Emily Douglas pulled the company truck into a parking spot, cut the engine and peered through the windshield at the partially constructed building. Touchdown Bar and Grill was all anyone in town seemed to talk about lately, and honestly, she didn’t see what all the fuss was about. And despite her vow to never set foot within its sport-memorabilia-swamped bowels, here she was.

Swell.

If there had been any way to pass this job off to someone else, she’d have done it. But with Alex out of town, and as manager of the nursery, it was her direct responsibility to give his royal highness, the millionaire, the estimate on landscaping. To add to an already miserable situation, this could be the account to pull Marlette Landscape out of its recent financial distress. She would never forgive herself if she blew this. And Alex, her wayward boss, would never live down the failure of driving the family business into bankruptcy. He meant well, he just had no head for business, and frankly, Emily was growing tired of covering his butt.

In another six months it would be out of her hands. She would have the money to buy the property from her father, then she could get a business loan for the building and her dream of owning her own flower shop would become a reality. But she would never raise the money without a job. She needed this account. The commission would push her that much closer to her goal. She would sacrifice just about anything, including her pride, to see it through.

And wouldn’t Matt—People’s sexiest restaurateur—be surprised to see her darkening his doorway? She’d done a fair job of avoiding him the past eleven years. Not difficult, considering Mr. I Only Date Supermodels Now never came back to Michigan to visit the little people. Apparently the phrase, “I’d still like us to be friends,” fell from his lips as readily as the sweet words he’d whispered to her that night on the beach. He hadn’t meant those either.

But this was business. She had to put aside what had happened all those years ago and act like a professional.

Yet, as she reached for the door handle, a flare of nerves heaved her stomach into turmoil.

What would he be like after all these years? As a teenager he’d been cocky and arrogant. At least, that’s what he’d wanted people to think. He’d never come right out and admitted it, but she knew he was ashamed of his family and probably as insecure as she’d been. That common thread had bound them and kept them close. But he wasn’t poor anymore. She was sure the vulnerable kid who hid behind the bravado, the Matt she’d been friends with, was long gone. Oddly enough, the thought made her sad.

The sun burned white-hot overhead and sweat trickled down her cheek. No point sitting here melting. The sooner she got in there, the sooner she could leave.

She stuck out her chin, shoved open the truck door and stepped down. Sweaty male construction types in varying degrees of undress gave the site an interesting atmosphere, but she didn’t see anyone resembling Matt. Aware that more than a dozen pairs of eyes were suddenly riveted in her direction, she held her head high, prayed she wouldn’t stumble over her own feet, and walked through the open door of the restaurant. It took her eyes a minute to adjust in the dim light, then she scanned the interior and—

No one was there.

Any apprehension she’d been feeling was instantly replaced by a ripple of irritation. Granted, her time wasn’t as valuable as his, but he could at least have the courtesy to show up when he made an appointment.

“Emily?” someone said from behind her. “Emily Douglas, is that you?”

She froze in place and her heart started doing a crazy dance in her chest. She knew that voice. Its deep baritone rumbled through her, awakening a long-dead awareness.

You’re over him, she reminded herself.

She forced herself to turn and face him, confused for a second by the man standing there. Missing was the thousand-dollar suit she’d expected. He was dressed similarly to the other workers, in faded carpenter jeans and a sweat-soaked muscle shirt that clung to his tanned, muscular chest. The nails she’d expected to be manicured were uneven and work-worn and she had the feeling his hands were probably calloused as well. Dirt and sweat streaked down his face, a red bandana covered his hair, and dark sunglasses masked his eyes. But that grin was unmistakable. Riding somewhere in between a smirk and a smile, it was burned permanently into her memory. Matt the millionaire was one of the sweaty construction people.

He slipped the glasses off and staring back at her were eyes the deepest, richest shade of brown. She would never forget those eyes—the way they’d looked at her that night. The tenderness they’d held. And the regret she’d seen there the next morning.

“Emily Douglas.” He looked her up and down, as if awed by the sight of her. “I barely recognized you.”

And he looked exactly the same. The charming, boyish good looks of his youth had matured right along with the rest of him. In photos and television interviews he always seemed larger than life. An icon. In person, standing here in front of her, he looked like the same old Matt.

A dull ache wrapped itself around her heart and wouldn’t let her breathe.

This is business, Emily reminded herself. Just do your job.

“You called for an estimate?” she asked.

An estimate?

Matt stood there, robbed of his voice, completely mesmerized by the woman standing before him. When she’d climbed out of the truck, her legs a mile long, her backside curved under snug khaki shorts, he’d just about forgotten his own name. Oh, man, why hadn’t Ty warned him? The rough-and-tumble tomboy was now one-hundred-percent, heart-stopping female.

Unable to do little more than gape, he took it all in, from the pale-blond hair he’d once feathered his fingers through, down the column of her throat to the softly rounded breasts that had fit so perfectly in his palms. His gaze traveled lower, to the toned stomach he’d pressed kisses to, and her legs…damn. They were long and trim and looked as smooth as the finest Italian silk. And if memory served, they were. He could still distinctly recall how they’d felt wrapped around him.

When she’d first emerged from the truck, he’d been sure they’d sent the wrong person. It had been Ty’s idea to call the nursery where Emily worked, under the guise of needing plants—which Matt really did need. He’d made it clear he would not, under any circumstances, lie to Emily or mislead her in any way.

Emily’s expression turned wary. “You did call for an estimate.”

“An estimate,” he repeated, wondering where his brain had wandered off to. This wasn’t going at all as planned. He could barely string a coherent sentence together. He hadn’t expected to feel this way. Of course, Emily always did have a way of making him feel things he shouldn’t.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just a little surprised to see you. You look…different.”

Her eyebrow quirked slightly. “Different? Gosh, Conway. I’m…flattered.”

“I didn’t mean it like—”

“Look. I realize this is uncomfortable for both of us, but I have a job to do. Let’s try to make the best of an inconvenient situation. Okay? I’ll get you your estimate and get out of your life.”

Damn. This was going to be a little harder than he’d expected. But he had never been one to back down from a challenge. Especially when the stakes were so high. All he needed to do was figure out an angle. Every woman had a weakness. Jewelry, furs, whatever.

Once he determined Emily’s, he’d have her eating from his hand.

Two

Matt took a step toward Emily. Close enough to catch a light, flowery scent drifting off her skin. The last time he’d been this close to her, they’d both smelled of the bonfire her father had built on the beach, the fire they sat by long after Ty and Emily’s parents had gone to bed.

Back then he’d never imagined Emily wearing perfume. It had always been too girly, too feminine for someone like her. Now it was perfect. She was perfect. Just the right height, the ideal combination of lean muscle and female softness. Expressive blue eyes deep enough to drown in.

Or freeze him solid, as they were doing now.

“Well?” Emily tapped her booted foot in the dirt.

“Whatever you want,” he said.

“Great.” She plucked a pen from her shirt pocket and jotted something down on the form attached to her clipboard. “What were you thinking about for the interior? Ferns? Philodendrons? Real or silk? Is there a particular theme you follow in all the restaurants?”

“I have a binder with all the specs.” He gestured to the door and she started toward it, distinctly aware of his presence behind her. Too close behind her, she realized as he reached past her to open the door and his sweat-slicked arm brushed hers. No expensive cologne for him today. He smelled like a man who was no stranger to physical labor.

He smelled good.

She squinted against the sudden shaft of sunlight slanting across her face as she stepped outside.

“Hey, boss!” One of the workers waved Matt over. “The inspector is here. We got a problem.”

“Give me a minute,” he called and turned to Emily. “I’ve got the stuff in my car.”

She followed him to a dusty black SUV parked next to the construction trailer. Honestly, she’d expected something convertible and red with an anorexic blonde permanently fixed in the front seat for that special touch.

He opened the passenger’s-side door and grabbed a binder off the front seat. “This has photos of the other restaurants and all the information you’ll need. The inside plants should all be live. No silk or plastic. Does your company handle maintenance?”

“No, but we can recommend someone.” She flipped through the binder, surprised by what she saw. While a few of the older members of the city council had been openly opposed to building yet another unsightly bar in town—and others had protested out of what she was sure was jealousy—Emily had to admit, Touchdown wasn’t a bad-looking place. Classy in fact, but casual enough to stop in for a beer and a bite after work. It might even bring in business when her flower shop went up on the vacant lot next door.

“We like to keep the landscaping consistent,” he said.

She flipped past a photo that was obviously Southern-based. “I hate to disappoint you, but you’ll be hard-pressed to find a palm tree that will grow in Michigan.”

The edge of his mouth quirked up slightly. “As consistent as the climate will allow. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute?” He nodded in the direction of the men waiting for him.

“Go for it.”

“Give me a holler if you need anything.”

Emily jotted a few notes on her clipboard, watching Matt in her peripheral vision. He might be dressed like the other men and was unshaven and dirty like them, but he had an air about him that garnered respect—demanded it even. The intelligence shining behind his eyes, the way he looked at a person, as if he could see inside their head.

He used to look at her that way. Sometimes she swore he could read her thoughts. How many times had she silently willed him to kiss her, to tell her she was anything but a pal? She would wish so hard for it, her head would hurt and her eyes would sting. But he’d never treated her as anything but a good friend.

Someday he would see, she’d told herself at least a thousand times. But Matt didn’t date girls like her. He preferred cheerleaders—the pretty girls. Still, she took it for granted that he would always be around, that someday she would get her chance. Then he’d earned a football scholarship that guaranteed he’d be taken away from her forever.

Every time he talked about leaving Michigan, about getting a new start in California and never looking back, a piece of her heart would die. She’d been in love with him since the third grade when his family had moved to Chapel. She could barely remember a time when he wasn’t around. He was like family.

To Emily, he had been her whole world.

But as the end of that final summer drew nearer and his leaving loomed closer, something changed. She would catch him watching her, and the look in his eyes, the longing she saw there, would make her shiver with awareness. It was as if she possessed something he desperately wanted, but knew he couldn’t have. For the first time in her life she began to feel feminine and pretty. It had occurred to her that maybe he actually had feelings for her and was afraid to make the first move. Though the thought of any female turning down a man like Matt had been completely out of her realm of imagination, she knew he had a vulnerable side he rarely let show. Maybe he was as afraid of rejection as she was.

It was then that she’d decided to tell him how she felt. She knew it wouldn’t stop him from leaving—she would never ask him to give up his dream for her—but she’d thought he could come back and visit, and maybe, eventually, she could relocate to California. Yet every time she tried to tell him, she couldn’t make herself say the words. Until that last weekend up at the cottage.

Sitting by the fire, she’d finally worked up the nerve to say it. To say “I love you.” And before she’d even gotten all the words out he’d kissed her.

She’d given him everything on that beach, surrendered her innocence to him. She woke the following morning feeling lighter than air, until Matt had said they needed to talk. His somber expression—the regret in his eyes—said more than words ever could. Still she’d listened numbly as he explained that while he cared for her deeply—she was his best friend—he was in no position to start a relationship with anyone. He had dreams to fulfill, a new life to start in California. But he still wanted them to be friends. They would always be friends. A few days later he left, and, true to his word, he’d never looked back.

Not to her anyway.

Pain, stark and biting, took hold of Emily. She never should have come here. Tears burned behind her eyes and she turned her attention to the estimate forms. She had a job to do.

She walked the perimeter of the building, taking notes and measurements, then went inside and took down the information she needed there. When she stepped back outside, Matt was still deep in conversation with the building inspector. They were bent over what looked like blueprints spread across the hood of a car.

The silly girl in her longed to talk to him again, to search his face for even a glimpse of the Matt she used to love, while the practical Emily convinced her not to bother.

The practical Emily always won.

Matt watched Emily, head lowered as she scribbled something on her clipboard, wondering what was going on in her head, wondering what he was going to do to get back on her good side. Expensive gifts were a favorite of the women he dated, but somehow he couldn’t see Emily impressed by glitter. Short of seeing him strung up by his toes and tortured, he wasn’t sure what would impress her.

“Mr. Conway?”

Matt tuned to Eric Dixon, the building inspector. “Eric, I’ve known you since the third grade. Would you please call me Matt?”

Eyes full of contempt, Dixon said, “As I was saying, Mr. Conway, the ratio of square feet to lot space is off.”

“By twenty lousy feet.”

“Regardless, you’re either going to have to reduce the amount of square footage or increase the size of the parking lot.”

Matt snapped a tight rein on his anger. There was no way he was going to let this weasel get in his way. The restaurant was going up. He would find an angle. He always did. “What I find interesting is that no one mentioned this when the plans were approved. And only now that the structure is half built do you point out the problem.”

Eric’s smile was smug and full of satisfaction. “It was a regrettable oversight.”

One you’ll regret more than I will, Matt thought. If they could play hardball, so could he. He took a step toward Eric, amused to see the man take a nervous step back. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with the fact that in high school I beat you out as starting quarterback and got lucky with your girlfriend in the bed of my truck? Didn’t you end up marrying her?”

It was only a rumor; he’d supposedly scored with so many of the girls in high school, but it served its purpose. Eric’s face turned an interesting shade of purple and the veins in his temple bulged. At twenty-eight, with a beer gut that hung over his belt and nicotine stains on his teeth and fingers, he looked like a heart attack in the making.

“I’m not shutting down construction,” Matt said.

“You’ve got until next week to bring it up to code, then I’m shutting you down.” Eric slammed his briefcase, and flashed Matt a greasy smile. “Have a nice day.”

Though the majority of the city had been supportive of his restaurant, there were a few people who had given him nothing but grief. The same people who’d had so little tolerance for him when he was a kid. No matter how well he did in school, or how he excelled in sports, thanks to his alcoholic parents he’d been labeled a troublemaker by some—guilty by association. Despite his recent fame, living in L.A. afforded him a certain anonymity. In Chapel, a traffic violation won you a spot in the local paper’s “Police Beat” column.

He hadn’t let them win back then and he wouldn’t let them now.

Matt heard an engine start and turned to see Emily’s truck pulling out of the lot. She was leaving before he’d had a chance to smooth things over. He felt as if he was being pulled in a dozen different directions at once.

He watched her truck disappear around the corner and felt more determined than ever to make amends. The only question was, how?

He was pretty sure there would be groveling involved.

“Look at you,” Emily scolded. “If you don’t pull it together, you’ll never get out of this place. There’s a sunny window somewhere out there just waiting for you.”

The Abutilon hybridum, commonly known as a Canary Bird Flowering Maple, sat on the isolation table near the rear of the nursery, looking wilted and sick, its leaves pale and drooping pathetically. Emily plucked an errant brown leaf. “It’s not aphids and I don’t see a fungus.”

She checked the undersides of the leaves for signs of mites. “Your brothers and sisters are healthy. What’s the deal?”

“Do they ever answer you?”

At the unexpected voice, Emily let out a squeal of surprise and spun around. She knew who it was even before she saw Matt standing behind her. Her heart gave an appropriate flutter at the sight of him.

Damn him for always looking so good, for bringing back memories that were better off forgotten.

“In a manner of speaking, they do,” she said. “It’s been scientifically proven that plants respond positively to verbal stimuli.”

He nodded thoughtfully and gestured toward the sickly plant. “Maybe this one is hard of hearing.”

She had to stifle a smile. He always did have a good sense of humor, and the ability to make her laugh. He’d been the brightest point in her life. Her life had grown dim since then, but she was used to it. She liked it that way. It was tough for people to hurt you, to disappoint you, if you kept them at arms’ length.

“What do you want, Conway?” she asked. “I thought we agreed to stay out of each other’s way.”

“You have my binder with the restaurant specs and I need it for tomorrow. The decorator has my only other copy.”

He’d only wanted his folder. Why would she even think he would want to see her for any other reason than business? Why would he be interested in someone like her when he could have a thousand other women? Beautiful, feminine women.

And why did she feel disappointment instead of relief?

“I get it for you and you’ll leave?” she asked.

“Scout’s honor.”

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” She brushed past him, far too aware of the energy vibrating from his body, and headed toward the front of the building. The man was a walking powerhouse, and even worse, he knew it. Stepping into her miniscule office, she grabbed the binder off her desk, but as she spun around to leave she slammed hard into Matt’s chest. The heat radiating from his skin scorched her and she jerked away, bumping the backs of her thighs against her cluttered desk. “What are you doing in here?”

He reached behind him and closed the door. “Giving us some privacy.”

“You said you would leave. You did the Scout’s honor thing.”

He gave her a wide, toothy grin, looking just like the old Matt. “I was never a Scout.”

That was exactly the kind of stunt the old Matt would have pulled. He looked like the old Matt, and he was acting like the old Matt—

No. No way she would let herself even consider that. She didn’t want to like him. If she started to like him a little, that might grow into liking him a lot. Then he would leave and she would never hear from him again. No thanks. “What do you want from me, Conway?”

“I just want to talk to you. I’ve…missed you.”

“You missed me? That would explain why you stopped calling. Never once visited. Yeah, you sure seemed broken up about it.”

“Your parents came out to visit me. You could have come with them.”

She’d wanted to. It had torn her to pieces to watch her parents leave, knowing they would see Matt. Knowing how badly she’d wanted to see him, too. And knowing it just wasn’t an option. Not if her heart was ever going to heal. “I don’t remember getting an invitation.”

“You were always welcome.”

“Oh, was it one of those mind-reading things us women are supposed to be able to do? I probably should have told you, I was absent the day they taught that in home economics.”

Matt gave her a scrutinizing look. “I don’t remember you being this cynical.”

“I’m being realistic.” The phone on her desk rang and she turned to snatch it up. Her mood plummeted even lower when she answered the phone and recognized the voice on the other end.

“Emily, dear,” Alex’s mother said sharply. “I need to speak with my son.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Marlette, but Alex stepped out for the afternoon.” And tomorrow afternoon, and the one after that.

“This is the third time I’ve called this week. Haven’t you been giving him my messages?”

Emily hated this. She hated lying to save Alex’s rear end time and time again. “He’s been so busy, he probably just forgot to get back to you.”

Busy slathering on the suntan oil and sipping exotic fruit drinks, she wanted to add. He hadn’t answered his cell phone or responded to the dozens of pages she’d sent the past three days. She was no stranger to the pressures of a demanding, critical family and understood his need to escape. But without his participation, she wouldn’t be able to hold his life together for him much longer.

“Could you please let my son know that the accountant will be out next Wednesday at nine sharp for the quarterly audit and I expect him to be there.” The woman’s tone was so bitterly cold, Emily was sure she could feel icicles forming on her ear.

“I’ll pass the message along, Mrs.—”

There was a click, then the line went dead.

“Nice to talk to you, too,” she mumbled as she dropped the phone back in the cradle. If she didn’t know the woman better, she might have taken the harsh treatment personally. But Alex’s mother regarded everyone, including her own family, with equal contempt.

Emily turned to find Matt leaning against the door, hands tucked loosely in his jeans pockets, watching her.

She gave him her best exasperated look. “Are you still here?”

His grin widened until the hint of a dimple dented his left cheek, raising the boyish-charm-level tenfold. “I haven’t asked you out to dinner yet.”

“Dinner? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

She handed Matt the binder. “Goodbye, Conway.”

He took it, and something warm in his expression, a glint in his eyes, had shivers crawling up her spine.

He opened the door. “When can I expect an estimate?”

“Give me a week.” Maybe by then she would have shaken off this nagging attraction.

“I have one more question,” he said.

“I won’t go out to lunch with you either.”

He grinned and her insides flipped. “How certain can I be that Marlette will complete the job if I accept your bid?”

His question threw her for a moment, then she recognized, like any good businessman, he’d done some digging. Not that he’d have to dig very deep. Marlette’s financial difficulties were common knowledge among competing nurseries, several of whom had lowballed them out of many a contract this season. She hadn’t yet figured out how, but as low as Marlette kept their bids, there was always someone lower. Though she hoped she was wrong, she was beginning to suspect they had a rogue employee on the loose.

One more thing she didn’t have time to worry about.

“This could be the account to save our butts,” she said. “If we win the bid, we’ll come through for you. You have my word.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Emily’s honesty impressed Matt. And what he hadn’t mentioned was that Marlette was the only company bidding. He didn’t often let sentimentality edge its way into his business dealings, especially with his investors so shaky about the venture, but in this case he was making an exception. Emily was obviously working hard to pull the company into the black. He admired her determination.

Not to mention that this was about the only way she’d let him within a hundred yards of her.

“I look forward to doing business with you.” He held out a hand for her to shake. She hesitated a second, then gripped his hand firmly.

Nothing fluffy about that handshake. She was all business, and it was over so quickly he barely had time to relish her soft skin against his fingers.

The phone rang again. She turned to pick it up, and after a pause snapped, “Where in the hell have you been, Alex? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days. Mildred has been all over my back.”

The mysterious boyfriend, no doubt.

She listened for a minute, and Matt could swear he heard music over the line. Something Caribbean.

“Hold on, Alex.” She cupped a hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Matt. “I need to take this.”

“Can I give you a bit of advice?” he asked.

She looked to the door, gave an exasperated sigh, then nodded.

“You’ll get nowhere in business cleaning up someone else’s mess.” With an image of her perplexed expression etched into his mind, he walked out, grinning to himself. Tugging his keys from his pocket, he headed out to the parking lot.

He was wearing her down. As hard as she was working to seem irritated, he could sense her relaxing, letting her guard down. He could also sense her conflict. She wanted to like him, but she was afraid to trust him. It wouldn’t be much longer before he had her hooked, and in the meantime, he was enjoying the hell out of himself. For the first time in months he was focused on something other than getting the restaurant built and it was a welcome relief. He would even consider leaving the construction company to its own devices for a day if he could spend the time with Emily.

He thought of the lake up at the cottage where they’d spent so many summer afternoons and wondered if she still liked to fish. Or they could drive to Metro Park, rent bikes and ride the trails. Hell, they could sit on the hood of his car and talk all day for all he cared. As long as he was with her. And maybe, if things went well he could invite her back to his hotel room….

The direction of his thoughts startled him. Taking Emily back to his hotel for…well, whatever they might end up doing, was out of the question. For now. Pushing too hard, too fast, would only drive her away. He had to remind himself, he was doing this for Ty and his parents. If this Alex person was really into something shady, it was imperative Matt not screw this up.

He’d already decided to take Ty’s advice and concentrate on being her friend.

Three

The air drifting in the front window, thick and sticky and tinged with the scent of summer rain, zapped the last of Emily’s energy. She stretched out on her love seat, waiting for the pizza guy, relieved the day was almost over. As badly as it had begun, when she was convinced things couldn’t get much worse, they had.

Alex, it would seem, was having so much fun he’d decided to extend his vacation another few days. She’d tried to explain how difficult it had been holding it together at work lately and he came back with his typical, “Don’t worry about it, Em. It’ll all work itself out.”

He didn’t have to face twenty-five employees, not to mention the fifteen or so college kids they hired every spring and summer, knowing it might only be a matter of weeks before they were out of a job. Though he was her good friend and she loved him to death, acting as a human shield between him and his mother was getting old.

The doorbell rang and she rose from her seat, grabbing the ten-dollar bill for the pizza from the coffee table on her way to the door. Money in hand, she pulled the door open, but it wasn’t the pizza guy standing outside her apartment. It was Matt.

And she’d be damned if her traitorous heart didn’t lift a little at the sight of him. That cocky grin he always wore told her he was up to no good.

She leaned on the doorjamb, trying her best to look annoyed while her lips itched to return the smile. His hair was damp, his chin freshly shaved, and the clean scent of soap and shampoo begged “notice me!” Drops of rain spotted his muscle shirt, drawing her attention to the impressive width of his shoulders and the definition in his biceps and arms.

Something hot and feminine stirred deep inside her.

She conjured up her best annoyed voice. “Are you stalking me?”

From behind his back he produced a large pizza. “If you won’t come to dinner with me, I bring dinner to you.”

“I’m not hungry,” she lied, and as if on cue, her stomach gave a hollow moan.

“Your stomach disagrees.” Matt lifted the lid and peeked inside. “Pepperoni, sausage, bacon—you sure you don’t want a slice?”

“How did you know…wait a minute, that’s my pizza! You rat! You stole my dinner.”

The grin widened, his dimple winking adorably. “I paid for it, so it is technically mine now. But I’d be willing to share it with you.”

“Is there anything you won’t do to get what you want?”

“That depends on what I want.” The simmering look in his eyes, his smoldering tone, warmed her all the way through to her bones. He didn’t even seem to be doing it on purpose. It was as if oozing sex appeal came naturally. Effortlessly.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you even know where I live?”

“CIA.”

“That’s very funny.”

“It’s classified. If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

She glared at him, tapping her foot.

“All right, I asked your brother.” He lifted the box lid. “Hmm, smells delicious.”

Her mouth watered as the scent wafted her way. She’d skipped lunch so she was beyond starving and there was next to nothing edible in the refrigerator.

“Another minute and you’re going to be drooling, Em.”

This was so unfair. He knew how much she loved pizza.

“Fine, you can stay.” She stepped back and held the door open. Only then did she realize she was wearing her baggy pajama bottoms and the University of Michigan T-shirt with the paint splatters on the front. Like he would even notice.

Or care.

Matt stepped inside, gazing around her one-room flat.

“It’s small, but I like it that way,” she automatically explained. She had no idea why she felt the need to justify her living conditions to him. Although it might have had something to do with her mother’s constant, “Why don’t you get a real apartment, Emily,” or “If you can’t afford a decent place to live, why don’t you move back home with us?” As if that would ever happen. Emily would be hauled away in a straitjacket inside of a week.

“I have closets bigger than this,” Matt said, then cringed and added, “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I’m just thinking how ridiculous it is that I have so much stuff I need closets the size of an apartment.”

He looked so disturbed by the idea, she had to wonder if maybe he wasn’t quite as egotistical as she’d thought. Or maybe he was only pretending to be like the old Matt. The question was, why? What could he possibly want from her? Was it possible that he really did want to be her friend?

“When I signed my first pro deal, I had money for the first time in my life,” Matt said. “I swear all I did that first year was buy stuff. I guess I just never throw anything away.”

“I feel your pain. It must have been real rough having all that money to spend.”

“You’d be surprised.” His eyes darkened with some emotion she couldn’t identify, and she had the sudden impression she’d dredged up something he didn’t want to confront. She couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Probably bad.

She grabbed paper plates and napkins from the kitchenette and opened the fridge. “I suppose you’ll want something to drink.”

“Whatever you’ve got,” he said, looking around as if he wasn’t sure where to put the food.

“I usually eat at the coffee table, so I can see the game.” And because it happened to be the only table she owned.

“Still a sports fan, huh?” He set the pizza down and sat on the love seat.

She grabbed two beers. “To my parents’ dismay. My mother is always trying to drag me to Junior League meetings and Tupperware parties, when I’d rather stay home and watch the game with Ty and my dad.”

She set the beers, napkins and plates on the table and sat next to him. Matt served them each a slice of pizza. Somehow the love seat felt a lot smaller with him sitting on it. They were so close, she could feel the heat of his thigh where it almost touched her own.

Though it was eons ago, she still remembered what it felt like to be close to him. To feel those hard planes of muscle in his chest and stomach, his weight pressing her into the cool sand. Being with Matt had been everything she’d ever imagined—more than she’d ever hoped for. It had scared her as much as it thrilled her. And the tenderness he’d shown her had been completely unexpected. Foolishly she’d thought that meant he loved her.

After all they’d been through together, when all was said and done, she’d been nothing but a conquest to him. All those years of friendship had meant nothing. And now, with all that money he couldn’t spend fast enough, she was sure he’d also raised his standards. She was the same unfeminine, in-your-face-girl she’d been back in high school. She hadn’t been good enough for him before, and she certainly wouldn’t be now, even if she wanted to be. Which she absolutely did not.

“Ty mentioned that you have a boyfriend. My being here won’t bother him?” Matt asked.

Boyfriend. Now there’s a term she used rather loosely. It wasn’t as if she’d actually told her parents she and Alex were anything but good friends. They’d assumed, and she’d never set them straight.

“No, he wouldn’t mind. He’s not the jealous type.” Not when it came to women, anyway. Not only was Alex not her significant other, he was very gay. Flaming at times.

Matt looked down, suddenly enthralled by his pizza. “I’d like to meet him. You should bring him around the restaurant some time.”

Emily almost laughed. “You still can’t lie worth a damn, Conway.”

His head shot up, a combination of guilt and surprise on his face.

“My brother can’t stand Alex. And he probably told you that. So I seriously doubt you’re all that jazzed about meeting him.”

“You work with him?”

“His mother owns the nursery.”

Matt gazed around the apartment. Considering her living conditions, this guy obviously wasn’t paying her enough. What furniture she did have looked hand-me-down, and with the exception of the twenty or so plants hanging throughout the apartment, it was sparsely decorated. No art hanging on the walls. No photos.

Ty hadn’t been exaggerating. This boyfriend of Emily’s did sound like a jerk. Abandoning Emily and leaving her to run his mother’s company while he was out partying was pretty low. And with a girlfriend as attractive as Emily, how could the guy not be jealous when she invited other men into her apartment? If Emily were Matt’s girlfriend, she wouldn’t be hanging out with other men. And she wouldn’t be living in a matchbox. She would have the best of everything—anything her heart desired.

If she were his girlfriend?

Where the hell had that come from? As unfit as this Alex guy was for Emily, Matt was no more properly suited. God only knows where he’d squeeze her into his schedule.

His cell phone rang and Matt checked the display, cursing under his breath. His lawyer. He was awaiting information on the code-violation issue. This could be either really good or really bad news.

“I have to take this.”

He answered the phone, and, as he’d expected, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. The violation was legitimate, and their only recourse at this time would be to meet the inspector’s demands, or file a lawsuit against the city. Suing Chapel would guaranty the restaurant’s failure.

Emily made an impatient noise beside him and Matt had the feeling she wasn’t thrilled with the interruption. Now was not the time to be getting on her bad side. Though it was against every principle of business he’d learned, he told his lawyer he’d call him back later, shut the phone off and hooked it back on his belt.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“So, Conway.” Emily twisted the top off her beer. “You’ve got me here. What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

She took a bite of her pizza and washed it down with a swallow of beer. “After eleven years and no word from you, there has to a reason why you’ve suddenly popped back into my life.”

He’d thought he’d be able to flub his way through this and skirt around the truth. She never had been one to sit back and let life happen around her. He should have known she would come right out and bluntly ask him what he was up to. He should have expected it.

“I’m reconnecting,” he said, which wasn’t completely untrue. “The relationships I’ve been finding myself in lately have been…unsatisfying.”

“What’s wrong, the California girls aren’t putting out? Or have you slept with them all already?”

“No, there are a few I’ve yet to violate.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the edge of her mouth lift. “By unsatisfying, I mean shallow.”

“So what, you expected to come back and just pick up where you left off?”

“That was sort of the plan. I’d like us to be friends, Emily.”

She made a huffing sound. “I’m not crazy about your definition of friendship, Conway.”

“Look, I know I should have kept in touch. You probably won’t believe this, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

The accusation felt like a knife in his gut. He pushed his plate away, his appetite a memory. “People make mistakes. You could cut me a little slack.” The second the words were out, when her eyes turned stone-cold, he knew it was a mistake.

She got up and walked to the door, pulled it open and motioned outside. “Goodbye.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“I said you could stay for dinner. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost my appetite.”

He rose from the love seat, balling his napkin and tossing it onto the table. “You were never one to play games, Emily.”

“I’m not the one playing games, Conway.”

He had a lot of nerve, coming here, manipulating her, then accusing her of playing games. He wanted her to cut him some slack. She wasn’t the one who’d stopped writing, stopped calling. She wasn’t the one who’d stayed away for eleven years.

She opened the door wider.

“Is this your way of saying you don’t want to be friends?”

“I was your friend. That’s one mistake I won’t be making again.”

This time her heart might not survive.

Emily rested her head against the lush ivy twining the cedar arbor, inhaling the sweet scents of her mother’s flower garden. Amber clouds streaked the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon and a warm breeze caressed her face. Ordinarily, surrounding herself with nature worked like a salve on her frayed nerves, but it was family dinner night at her parents’ house.

Her least favorite, and most nerve-racking Friday of the month.

Nothing short of hospitalization or death held up as a legitimate excuse to miss it. Her parents liked to stay actively involved in her life, which equated to two hours of them telling her exactly what she was doing wrong and how to fix it, while Emily smiled, nodded and tried not to scream. Not that she didn’t love her family dearly, but she’d given up trying to please them a long time ago.

And, as if spending the evening with her parents wasn’t bad enough, they’d excitedly informed her that Matt was joining them tonight. Given their level of enthusiasm and the extravagant meal her mother was preparing, one might have thought the President was coming to dinner.

She hadn’t talked to Matt since he’d left her apartment last night. And while she would never admit it aloud—she didn’t even like admitting it to herself—she had hoped he would come back.

Shortly after he’d left she’d gone to bed, listening to the rain tap against the front windows and feeling inexplicably lonely. Every time she heard a vehicle approaching, or the slam of a car door, she’d held her breath, waiting to hear footsteps up her walk. But he hadn’t come. And though she hated herself for it, she still missed him somewhere deep down.

Back when they were kids, during summer vacations when Matt was practically living at their house, he and Emily would sometimes stay up all night talking. After everyone had gone to bed, they would go out on the back patio, curl up in chaise lounges and talk until the sky turned pink with the first hint of dawn. There wasn’t a thing about each other they hadn’t known.

She’d never blamed him for what had happened between them that night on the beach. She’d let it happen, with no second thoughts and no regrets. She only regretted that it had ended their friendship. It was too late to get that back. They had both changed too much.

Sure, he looked the same, and sounded the same and sometimes he even acted like the old Matt. On the inside, where it counted, he was a different person.

When she’d gotten over the initial shock of his leaving, her heart had begun to heal. And after a while she’d even stopped missing him. Now that he was back, that old longing had returned with him. But she was longing for the friendship of a man who no longer existed.

Behind her on the brick path she heard approaching footsteps. Heavy steps that would indicate the person in question was probably male, and most likely large. Six foot three, two hundred and twenty pounds—most of it muscle—if memory served. She closed her eyes and prayed silently, please let it be someone else.

“Dinner is almost ready.” Matt’s deep voice wrapped around her, raising the hair on her arms and sending a shiver down her spine despite the heat. “Your mom sent me out to get you.”

Thanks, Mom. Without even trying she somehow always managed to make Emily’s life a little bit more miserable. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

There was a brief silence then, “Emily, come on. You could at least look at me.”

Apprehension surging up her throat, she slowly turned. Matt stood, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his pants. At the sight of him, her body sighed with satisfaction. Talk about eye candy. The man was far too attractive for his own good. His hair was damp again and the same near-black shade as his eyes. A hint of his aftershave drifted in her direction, drawing her attention to his chiseled jaw and mouth. And oh, the things that mouth had done to her. Intimate things that still made her blush.

All his features combined, Matt looked rugged and dangerous—which was at complete odds with the conservative polo shirt and chinos he wore. Was it possible for a man to look reckless and sexy wearing Ralph Lauren?

His eyes soft and apologetic, he said, “I screwed up last night.”

It was the last thing she expected to hear, and it sounded far too much like something the old Matt would say. Don’t, she wanted to plead. Don’t you dare be nice to me. She wanted to hate him for leaving her, for not loving her.

But how could she hate him for being honest?

She hugged herself, feeling naked and vulnerable in a simple tank top and shorts. Which was beyond ridiculous, because she wore similar clothes all the time and she’d never felt underdressed before. Maybe it was the way Matt looked at her, as if he were studying every inch, memorizing her.

His cell phone rang and he reached down—she thought to answer it. Instead he turned it off.

“Emily,” he said, taking another step toward her. She wanted to turn and run to the house, but she couldn’t make her legs move. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’d do anything to take it back if I could.”

She looked for a trace of deceit in his eyes, a sign that he was only manipulating her. All she saw was sincerity, and it put the tiniest crack in the ice covering her heart.

“Can you give me another chance? Can we be friends?”

“For how long, Conway? How do I know you’re not going to go back to California and never call me again? What reason do I have to trust you?”

“None,” he admitted. “You have no reason to trust me. I’ll have to earn it.”

She knew she was losing it when the idea of Matt working to gain her trust gave her a giddy, adolescent thrill. The thrill she used to get every time he smiled at her, or bent his head close to help her bait her fishing line. How many times had she intentionally popped her bike chain off the track for the sheer pleasure of watching him fix it, knowing he was doing something nice for her. And he would do it without question every time. What would he have said had he known she could bait a line with more skill than he could, or tear apart a bike and rebuild it blindfolded.

At times her adoration had been so intense she’d ached with it. But Matt had always been, and always would be completely unattainable. Even now, after everything that had happened, the thought made her inexplicably sad.

“So, what do you say? Tentative friends?” He reached for her, and though she opened her mouth to object, the words died on her lips the second he took her hand. He cradled it gently in his enormous palm. She watched, mesmerized as his thumb brushed across her knuckles. Heat pooled deep in her stomach and her eyelids felt weighted down.

She risked a glance up to his face and found herself instantly locked into his dark gaze. Something sparked deep inside his eyes—a flame she thought had died a long time ago. How could she deny him anything when he looked at her that way?

“Emily! Matt!” Her mother’s voice cut through the silence like a guillotine, obliterating the moment.

Emily yanked her hand free, and when he reached for her again, she backed away. “Don’t. I need some time to think about this.”

“Emily—”

“Just give me a little time.”

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