Kissing Her Enemyby Coleen Kwan
Copyright © 2017 by Coleen Kwan. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Chapter One
Amber Miller slammed on the brakes, her battered pickup truck jerking to a halt just inches from a sleek silver Lexus. Flinging her hair back, she jumped out of the truck and marched toward the building that housed the headquarters of Wright Inc. Don’t stop now, she told herself. Don’t let them intimidate you.
But she made the mistake of pausing to take in the handsome stone building—one of the first banks built in Pine Falls at the end of the nineteenth century—that the Wright family used for business and entertaining. The building reflected the Wrights’ standing—solid, upstanding, wealthy, established. Everything her family wasn’t.
She strode forward but then paused at the entrance as she caught a reflection of herself in the glass doors. Her reddish-brown hair was coming loose from its ponytail, her tight jeans bore a rip in the thigh, and her Timberland nubuck boots were covered in sawdust from earlier this morning when she’d demonstrated a circular saw to a customer at her hardware store. She definitely didn’t look her best going into the Wrights’ headquarters. For a second, self-doubt flickered in her, that hideous feeling that she didn’t fit in, that she wasn’t good enough.
But then she remembered what was at stake, not just for her, but for the other store owners. Their anxious faces were fresh in her mind. These were more than just neighbors; they were her friends, her community, and they were counting on her. For everyone’s sake she couldn’t back down now. She marched into the foyer, her dusty boots clomping on the tiled floor, and halted to get her bearings. Despite herself, she couldn’t help admiring the black-and-white marble tiles, the sandstone columns supporting the coffered ceiling, and the brass pots with their glossy plants. This was the first time she’d been inside the building, and she had to admit the Wrights had taste.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” a voice said.
She turned to see a slim young man dressed in a suit rise from a desk and move toward her.
“I’m here to see Logan Wright,” Amber declared in a confident tone.
The young man blinked and clasped his hands together. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Are you Logan’s secretary?”
He beamed with pride. “Yes, I’m Mr. Logan Wright’s personal assistant. Pablo Garcia, at your service.” He gave her a little head bob.
“Well, Pablo—I can call you that, right?—you and I both know I don’t have an appointment with Mr. Logan Wright”—she emphasized the name sarcastically—“but I’m going to see him anyway.” Scanning the foyer, she found a heavy teak door with brass fittings near Pablo’s desk and started to march toward it.
Looking alarmed, Pablo scampered after her and blocked her way. “Er, I’m sorry, Miss, er—but I can’t let you barge in on Mr. Logan.”
“It’s Miller. Amber Miller.” She looked the guy up and down. He was an inch taller than she was but as slim and green as a fresh asparagus shoot. “That’s a really nice suit you have there, Pablo.”
He tugged at his lapels. “Uh, thank you, Miss, uh, Miller.”
“Call me Amber. You see what I’m wearing?” She gestured at her jeans, boots, and T-shirt. “I don’t care about getting dirty in this, but it’d be a shame to mess up your brand spanking new suit.”
Pablo gulped, but to his credit he stood his ground. “I—I’m sorry, but Mr. Logan would fire me if I didn’t do my job properly. Now I really must insist—”
“Sorry, Pablo, but I must insist.” She took a step, feinting to her right, then, as he went to mimic her, she switched direction, dodged past him on the left, and stormed toward Logan Wright’s office.
She had almost reached it when the door swung open and a cool, svelte blonde in a tight suit and high heels minced out of the office. The blonde was so busy talking to someone over her shoulder that she cannoned straight into Amber.
“Oof,” Amber grunted as she bounced off the woman.
“Argh!” The blonde let out a squeal. Tossing back her sleek, bobbed hair, she glared at Amber with ice-cold eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The man who’d been holding the door open for the blonde moved forward. “You okay there, Emily?” Then his gaze fell on Amber, and for a second his face was blank before recognition flared in his eyes and his dark eyebrows drew into a slight V. “Amber? Amber Miller?” Incredulity echoed in his tone.
She swallowed as his familiar voice peeled back the years. Logan’s voice, as smooth and seductive as molten dark chocolate, had been the first thing about him to lure her. Before, he’d been just another arrogant jock in high school she ignored, but then she’d heard him read an excerpt from I Sing the Body Electric in their English class, and his voice, mellifluous and enticing, had riveted her. Line by line, he’d reeled her in, until it seemed he was reading the poem just for her. When she’d finally, grudgingly looked up, she’d found his peridot eyes fixed on her, and the look in them had stolen her breath away.
Just like they were stealing her breath now. Oh, for God’s sakes! What was the matter with her? After all these years she couldn’t still be hung up on Logan, could she? No, he’d caught her by surprise, that was all.
“Mr. Logan, I’m so sorry,” Pablo broke in, flapping his hands. “I tried to stop her, but—”
“You should’ve tried harder,” the blonde snapped, flicking at her slick navy suit as if she’d come into contact with a herd of cows. “Honestly, Logan, I don’t know why you hired him, when he can’t even monitor your visitors.” Her irked gaze landed on Amber, taking in her casual outfit, and her lips grew pinched. “You there. Have you come to water the plants or something? You should watch where you’re going.”
Logan was still staring at Amber, and she, God help her, couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him.
“Emily, it’s Amber Miller,” he said. “We all went to high school together, remember?”
Emily’s finely plucked eyebrows shot up. “Amber Miller? You mean the weirdo whose dad picked up roadkill?”
Amber lifted her chin. She was starting to remember Emily now. One of those snotty, stuck-up girls who’d sniggered and whispered about her, so many of them they’d become a blur.
“Yeah, that’s right. He taught me how to deal with vermin.” That wasn’t true; her dad had never taught her anything in her life—except that men could be the biggest jackasses. He’d fooled around with her mom, got her pregnant, then skedaddled back to his long-suffering wife, and hadn’t even had the decency to move away to a different town. To make matters worse, over the years he had continued to ping-pong between his wife and Amber’s mom. All her dad had ever done for Amber was make her an easy target for girls like Emily.
Emily clutched at Logan’s arm, feigning alarm. “Ooh, yes, it’s Gingernut, all right. Still has the temper to match her hair, I see.” She turned to Logan and batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, well. Come on, honey, let’s go to the country club for lunch. I could do with a drink.”
Logan, seemingly impervious to Emily’s fluttering eyelashes, pried her fingers from the sleeve of his well-cut suit. “Another time, Emily. Good talking to you. Bye for now.” With practiced ease he steered her toward the exit before quickly swinging back to Amber. He gestured toward his office. “You wanted to see me?”
“Logan!” Emily pouted. Then, seeing the futility of protesting, she glared one more time at Amber before stalking out of the building, her four-inch heels click-clacking in disapproval.
“Hold all my calls, Pablo,” Logan said to his hapless assistant. “And I mean all of them.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Um, do you want any coffee or—”
“No, thanks, Pablo. Just hold the calls.”
“Yes, sure…”
The young man’s babblings were cut short as Logan ushered Amber into his office and shut the door.
For the first time she was finally able to take a good look at him without any distractions. Then, she wished she hadn’t, because it seemed he still had the ability to take her breath away. Much to her disgust, her lungs tightened as she gulped in the sight of him. In the years since she’d last seen him he’d put on muscle in all the right places, and his sharply tailored suit highlighted his broad chest, slim hips, and long legs. In high school he’d been good-looking in a boy band way, but the years had added maturity and raw sex appeal to his hooded green eyes, his full lips, his square chin with its intriguing dimple. His thick, slightly wavy hair sat a half-inch below his collar, but it suited him, its glossy blackness inviting her to run her fingers through— Hang on just a darn second! She was not going to be running her fingers through Logan’s hair, no matter how glossy and inviting it was.
What was wrong with her? Why were her hormones going haywire now of all times?
Logan took his time looking her over, his eyes frankly appreciative. “You look good, Amber. It’s been a long time, but I’m glad to see you again.”
His husky voice reverberated through her; he sounded like he really meant it. Was he glad to see her? Even after what had happened between them? But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted; she had to get on top of the situation.
“I’m sorry I can’t say the same for you.”
“I don’t look good? Why? Have I put on weight or something?” He flicked his jacket aside and rested his hands on his hips, drawing her attention to how well his pants fit him.
She jerked her gaze away from his legs. “I meant I’m not glad to see you.”
He put on a hurt expression, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m crushed,” he said, looking anything but. “Here I was thinking you’d rushed in to welcome me back to Pine Falls, maybe even invite me out for a drink.”
“I’ll leave that to Emily,” she tartly responded. “She seemed all over you. Are you dating her?”
Logan looked startled. “No, I’m not dating her. She’s with Deakin and Claybourne, my lawyers. She’s Emily Claybourne.”
“Deakin and Claybourne. Lawyers. Ah, I should have guessed.” Once again her stomach twisted into a painful knot, just like it had a few hours ago. She drew in a breath to steady herself. “I got a letter from them this morning.” She felt inside the back pocket of her jeans, her fingers slightly clumsy, and pulled out the letter in question. “Something about an offer to purchase.”
A puzzled look came over Logan’s face. “You got an offer?”
“Yeah, just like all the store owners on my street did. You want to buy us all out.” She paused. “Why are you confused? Don’t you know about this?”
He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “I’m planning to redevelop the block on Colfax Road, yes, but what does that have to do with you?”
“I own the hardware store on Colfax Road!” she burst out, unable to contain her feelings any longer. “Jesus, don’t you know that?”
He waved a hand. “My lawyers are responsible for contacting the property owners.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Bennett’s Home Center? That’s really yours?”
“Yes, it’s mine, and there’s no need to look so incredulous,” she seethed. “I might have grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, but I do have enough brains to run my own business.”
“But what happened to old Tom Bennett?”
“He retired two years ago and sold the business to me. He’s down in Florida now, sipping mai tais and wooing the ladies in his retirement village.”
She owed Tom Bennett a lot. He’d given her part-time work while she was studying at the local community college for her associate degree, and then, later on, when the garden center in Sacramento had made her redundant and she’d wanted to return to Pine Falls, he’d hired her full time. She’d worked hard for Tom, and in return he’d shown her what running a small business really took. When he’d turned sixty-eight and grew tired of the long hours and cold winters, he’d offered her the business, helping her to organize her finances so that they could both achieve their dreams. She missed Tom, still called the old man at least once a month. He was the closest thing she’d ever had to a father figure.
Logan was looking at her with startled eyes. Was he so amazed that someone like her, who’d grown up in a trailer park, with no daddy and a mom whose proudest achievement was winning a Cher lookalike competition, could pull herself up by her bootstraps and own a viable business?
“Is it true?” she blurted.
“Is what true?” he asked, still looking astounded.
“That you’re planning to raze the whole block and build a mega hardware store?” Acid spiked in her stomach. A mega center, with a hundred times more product than hers and the financial muscle to undercut every one of her prices, would sound the death knell for her little corner store. And it wasn’t like she could simply relocate to another part of town. A business that size would put the hammer on all small hardware stores within a fifty-mile radius. When she’d heard the rumor this morning from her neighbor Peggy, who ran a bakery, her innards had scrambled, and as each of her other neighbors had repeated the same story, the sick feeling had intensified. Surely it wasn’t true? Surely all her hard work and dreams of independence would not be wiped out?
Logan let out a breath. His gaze steadied on her, his expression stripped of all levity. “Yes, it’s true.”
Three small words pierced the shell of bravado that had held her together this far. She felt herself crack inside, felt her fears seep out like toxic oil. But no way in hell was she going to break down in front of Logan Wright. He’d humiliated her once, a long time ago back in high school. She’d gotten over it, but the scar was still there, a lingering reminder. She wouldn’t let him hurt her again.
She slapped the letter on his desk and glowered at him.
“Well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Maybe you expect everyone to roll over and play nice for you because you’re a Wright and your family practically founded this town, but I’m not one of them. I’m not selling to you or to anyone else, so you can just take your offer and stick it somewhere dark and uncomfortable.”
…
Logan Wright tugged at his silk tie. The damn thing was too tight, too hot. But he knew the tie wasn’t responsible for his rise in temperature but the woman who stood before him, vibrating with defiance and sass.
How many years had passed since he’d last spoken with Amber Miller? Must be going on twelve years. To his surprise, their last encounter was still fresh in his memory, especially the glass of Coke she’d dumped over his head in front of Tatum. Yeah, he could still remember the sticky liquid dribbling through his hair, the ice cubes sliding down his neck, the embarrassment reddening his face while the other diners in the restaurant snickered at him. As if that evening hadn’t been difficult enough, with Tatum behaving like they were still dating and him trying to make her understand that it really was over. He’d felt like a giant dork, with everyone staring at him and Tatum squealing in horror. Sure, maybe he should’ve explained the situation to Amber beforehand, but she shouldn’t have lashed out and caused that ugly scene at the restaurant that had everyone’s tongues wagging for months. No one had ever humiliated him like that before. Or since.
He’d been mad at her then, but now he couldn’t scrape up any ill-feeling. Maybe because he was too busy stopping his jaw from hitting the ground—Amber looked so damn hot. She’d always looked hot, even back in high school, where she’d favored black lipstick, black eye shadow, and black clothes adorned with chains and metal studs. Now, the angry Goth chick vibe was gone, and she looked…stunning. That thick, shiny, russet hair of hers was magnificent, even in a messy ponytail. Her skin was smooth and creamy, her lips full and pink. Her faded jeans had seen better days, but they clung to her thighs in a very distracting manner. She stood ramrod straight, legs slightly apart, her Timberland boots shedding sawdust on his Persian carpet. Her sherry-colored eyes were big, thick-lashed, and filled with the same defiance he remembered.
She was waiting for him to speak, and her ornery stance indicated she was ready for a fight.
He didn’t want to fight with Amber. Well, not in the usual way, although he could see them enjoying a different kind of tussle between the sheets—dang, why are my thoughts headed that way? Severing his carnal imaginings, he gestured to the Chesterfield couch on the other side of his office. Instinct told him to avoid them sitting on opposite sides of his desk. Better for this encounter to be friendly rather than adversarial.
“Why don’t we take a seat?” Logan said. Amber hesitated for a moment before allowing him to usher her toward the Chesterfield. “Would you like something to drink? I can ask Pablo to make us some coffee.”
“No, thanks.” She shot him an annoyed look as she dropped onto the couch, clearly unappreciative of his amiable mood. “I’m not here for a friendly chat.”
She crossed her legs, her tight jeans once again drawing his attention to her curvy hips and rounded thighs. A small tear in the denim three inches above her knee revealed a soft mound of honey-colored flesh, and a spark of heat lit up in him, taking him by surprise. He pulled his gaze away from her legs, but then found himself in deeper trouble when he caught sight of her skimpy white T-shirt.
“Uh…” He forced himself to look her in the eye, struggling to string together a coherent sentence out of his overheated brain. “How long have you been running Bennett’s?”
“I’ve been working there for more than five years, and owned it for two.”
Bennett’s Home Center had been around for as long as Logan could remember, enduring through good times and bad.
“The local economy hasn’t been great,” he said. “I imagine it’s been tough running a small business lately.”
It wasn’t easy for bigger businesses, either. Wright Inc, the family-operated private holding company, owned several medium- to large-size enterprises, and none of them had been immune to the economic downturn. In fact, when he’d taken over as CEO, he’d been shocked at the trouble his family business was in. But none of that was common knowledge, even though he’d had to close a number of businesses and lay off workers.
Instantly, Amber’s chin went up again. “I’ve done all right. More than all right, in fact. I’ve increased turnover, reduced costs, and hired more staff.”
“I’m impressed. That can’t have been easy.”
“I don’t need your compliments. I just want you to stay out of my business.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. That whole block is crying out for redevelopment. You know that warehouse behind your store that covers half the block? It’s been sitting empty for years. I bought it last month. That just leaves the strip of stores that you and your neighbors occupy. Five properties in total, most of them run down and in need of renovation. It’s a crying shame to let that all go to waste. My plan is to knock everything down and start from scratch. Build a new hardware store and garden center. It’ll have the biggest selection and the best prices, everything for the home and garden under one roof.” He was starting to sound like a sales pitch, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d spent so much time planning this project. It would put Wright Inc back on a sound financial footing and provide plenty of new jobs. Never before had he been so personally involved in a business decision.
Amber was clenching and unclenching her fists as if preparing herself for physical combat. “You—you can’t do that. Who are you to make these decisions anyway? Your father runs the company.”
“Not anymore, he doesn’t. My dad retired six months ago and handed the reins over to me. I’m in charge now.”
If only that were one hundred percent true. Having headed up the family business for almost thirty years, Blaine Wright was having a hard time letting go, despite his doctor’s recommendations he do so for the sake of his health. Logan might be CEO, but his father was still the majority shareholder and persisted in breathing over Logan’s shoulder. As for the mega center, at first Blaine had been utterly opposed, thinking it too risky and over-ambitious, but gradually Logan had won him over. Now Blaine was badgering him to get it done pronto. There was no middle ground when it came to his father.
Logan could do without the interference. He was damn good at what he did, and the family company was facing dire times. His father still wouldn’t accept how close they’d come to bankruptcy, or that he was mostly responsible for that. Logan wasn’t interested in blaming anyone; he just wanted to turn their fortunes around and save his dad from stress. Once his superstore was up and running, profits would recover, and Blaine would relax and maybe even take that cruise he was always promising Logan’s mom. But Logan had to make sure everything went right. He couldn’t afford any slip ups.
“Fine, then.” Amber jumped to her feet. “Since you’re in charge of this godawful project, I’m telling you my answer is no. N. O. I’m not selling to you or anyone else.”
“Surely we can work something out?” He gave her his most winning smile, the one that never failed him.
Instead of softening, she snorted. “Don’t try your tricks on me, Logan. It won’t work. I’m immune to your charm.”
“You sure about that?”
She pressed her lips together. “Definitely.” Her chin went up. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
That got to him, a dig in his stomach. She thought he’d made a fool of her, but it wasn’t like that. And she’d made a fool of him, too. It hadn’t been one-sided.
“Call me a gambler,” he drawled, “but I’m betting you’ll want to discuss this later when you’ve gotten over your hurt pride.”
“Hurt pride?” Her eyes sizzled, and again he felt that inconvenient jolt of lust. “Seems like that’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
He sketched her a mocking bow. “Looking forward to your next visit, kettle. Or are you the pot? Next time, call ahead so poor Pablo doesn’t get so flustered.”
She opened her mouth as if to deliver another riposte, but then she pressed her lips shut, tossed her head so hard her ponytail fell loose, and stalked out of his office, looking like steam was simmering off her.
Chapter One
Amber Miller slammed on the brakes, her battered pickup truck jerking to a halt just inches from a sleek silver Lexus. Flinging her hair back, she jumped out of the truck and marched toward the building that housed the headquarters of Wright Inc. Don’t stop now, she told herself. Don’t let them intimidate you.
But she made the mistake of pausing to take in the handsome stone building—one of the first banks built in Pine Falls at the end of the nineteenth century—that the Wright family used for business and entertaining. The building reflected the Wrights’ standing—solid, upstanding, wealthy, established. Everything her family wasn’t.
She strode forward but then paused at the entrance as she caught a reflection of herself in the glass doors. Her reddish-brown hair was coming loose from its ponytail, her tight jeans bore a rip in the thigh, and her Timberland nubuck boots were covered in sawdust from earlier this morning when she’d demonstrated a circular saw to a customer at her hardware store. She definitely didn’t look her best going into the Wrights’ headquarters. For a second, self-doubt flickered in her, that hideous feeling that she didn’t fit in, that she wasn’t good enough.
But then she remembered what was at stake, not just for her, but for the other store owners. Their anxious faces were fresh in her mind. These were more than just neighbors; they were her friends, her community, and they were counting on her. For everyone’s sake she couldn’t back down now. She marched into the foyer, her dusty boots clomping on the tiled floor, and halted to get her bearings. Despite herself, she couldn’t help admiring the black-and-white marble tiles, the sandstone columns supporting the coffered ceiling, and the brass pots with their glossy plants. This was the first time she’d been inside the building, and she had to admit the Wrights had taste.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” a voice said.
She turned to see a slim young man dressed in a suit rise from a desk and move toward her.
“I’m here to see Logan Wright,” Amber declared in a confident tone.
The young man blinked and clasped his hands together. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Are you Logan’s secretary?”
He beamed with pride. “Yes, I’m Mr. Logan Wright’s personal assistant. Pablo Garcia, at your service.” He gave her a little head bob.
“Well, Pablo—I can call you that, right?—you and I both know I don’t have an appointment with Mr. Logan Wright”—she emphasized the name sarcastically—“but I’m going to see him anyway.” Scanning the foyer, she found a heavy teak door with brass fittings near Pablo’s desk and started to march toward it.
Looking alarmed, Pablo scampered after her and blocked her way. “Er, I’m sorry, Miss, er—but I can’t let you barge in on Mr. Logan.”
“It’s Miller. Amber Miller.” She looked the guy up and down. He was an inch taller than she was but as slim and green as a fresh asparagus shoot. “That’s a really nice suit you have there, Pablo.”
He tugged at his lapels. “Uh, thank you, Miss, uh, Miller.”
“Call me Amber. You see what I’m wearing?” She gestured at her jeans, boots, and T-shirt. “I don’t care about getting dirty in this, but it’d be a shame to mess up your brand spanking new suit.”
Pablo gulped, but to his credit he stood his ground. “I—I’m sorry, but Mr. Logan would fire me if I didn’t do my job properly. Now I really must insist—”
“Sorry, Pablo, but I must insist.” She took a step, feinting to her right, then, as he went to mimic her, she switched direction, dodged past him on the left, and stormed toward Logan Wright’s office.
She had almost reached it when the door swung open and a cool, svelte blonde in a tight suit and high heels minced out of the office. The blonde was so busy talking to someone over her shoulder that she cannoned straight into Amber.
“Oof,” Amber grunted as she bounced off the woman.
“Argh!” The blonde let out a squeal. Tossing back her sleek, bobbed hair, she glared at Amber with ice-cold eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The man who’d been holding the door open for the blonde moved forward. “You okay there, Emily?” Then his gaze fell on Amber, and for a second his face was blank before recognition flared in his eyes and his dark eyebrows drew into a slight V. “Amber? Amber Miller?” Incredulity echoed in his tone.
She swallowed as his familiar voice peeled back the years. Logan’s voice, as smooth and seductive as molten dark chocolate, had been the first thing about him to lure her. Before, he’d been just another arrogant jock in high school she ignored, but then she’d heard him read an excerpt from I Sing the Body Electric in their English class, and his voice, mellifluous and enticing, had riveted her. Line by line, he’d reeled her in, until it seemed he was reading the poem just for her. When she’d finally, grudgingly looked up, she’d found his peridot eyes fixed on her, and the look in them had stolen her breath away.
Just like they were stealing her breath now. Oh, for God’s sakes! What was the matter with her? After all these years she couldn’t still be hung up on Logan, could she? No, he’d caught her by surprise, that was all.
“Mr. Logan, I’m so sorry,” Pablo broke in, flapping his hands. “I tried to stop her, but—”
“You should’ve tried harder,” the blonde snapped, flicking at her slick navy suit as if she’d come into contact with a herd of cows. “Honestly, Logan, I don’t know why you hired him, when he can’t even monitor your visitors.” Her irked gaze landed on Amber, taking in her casual outfit, and her lips grew pinched. “You there. Have you come to water the plants or something? You should watch where you’re going.”
Logan was still staring at Amber, and she, God help her, couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him.
“Emily, it’s Amber Miller,” he said. “We all went to high school together, remember?”
Emily’s finely plucked eyebrows shot up. “Amber Miller? You mean the weirdo whose dad picked up roadkill?”
Amber lifted her chin. She was starting to remember Emily now. One of those snotty, stuck-up girls who’d sniggered and whispered about her, so many of them they’d become a blur.
“Yeah, that’s right. He taught me how to deal with vermin.” That wasn’t true; her dad had never taught her anything in her life—except that men could be the biggest jackasses. He’d fooled around with her mom, got her pregnant, then skedaddled back to his long-suffering wife, and hadn’t even had the decency to move away to a different town. To make matters worse, over the years he had continued to ping-pong between his wife and Amber’s mom. All her dad had ever done for Amber was make her an easy target for girls like Emily.
Emily clutched at Logan’s arm, feigning alarm. “Ooh, yes, it’s Gingernut, all right. Still has the temper to match her hair, I see.” She turned to Logan and batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, well. Come on, honey, let’s go to the country club for lunch. I could do with a drink.”
Logan, seemingly impervious to Emily’s fluttering eyelashes, pried her fingers from the sleeve of his well-cut suit. “Another time, Emily. Good talking to you. Bye for now.” With practiced ease he steered her toward the exit before quickly swinging back to Amber. He gestured toward his office. “You wanted to see me?”
“Logan!” Emily pouted. Then, seeing the futility of protesting, she glared one more time at Amber before stalking out of the building, her four-inch heels click-clacking in disapproval.
“Hold all my calls, Pablo,” Logan said to his hapless assistant. “And I mean all of them.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Um, do you want any coffee or—”
“No, thanks, Pablo. Just hold the calls.”
“Yes, sure…”
The young man’s babblings were cut short as Logan ushered Amber into his office and shut the door.
For the first time she was finally able to take a good look at him without any distractions. Then, she wished she hadn’t, because it seemed he still had the ability to take her breath away. Much to her disgust, her lungs tightened as she gulped in the sight of him. In the years since she’d last seen him he’d put on muscle in all the right places, and his sharply tailored suit highlighted his broad chest, slim hips, and long legs. In high school he’d been good-looking in a boy band way, but the years had added maturity and raw sex appeal to his hooded green eyes, his full lips, his square chin with its intriguing dimple. His thick, slightly wavy hair sat a half-inch below his collar, but it suited him, its glossy blackness inviting her to run her fingers through— Hang on just a darn second! She was not going to be running her fingers through Logan’s hair, no matter how glossy and inviting it was.
What was wrong with her? Why were her hormones going haywire now of all times?
Logan took his time looking her over, his eyes frankly appreciative. “You look good, Amber. It’s been a long time, but I’m glad to see you again.”
His husky voice reverberated through her; he sounded like he really meant it. Was he glad to see her? Even after what had happened between them? But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted; she had to get on top of the situation.
“I’m sorry I can’t say the same for you.”
“I don’t look good? Why? Have I put on weight or something?” He flicked his jacket aside and rested his hands on his hips, drawing her attention to how well his pants fit him.
She jerked her gaze away from his legs. “I meant I’m not glad to see you.”
He put on a hurt expression, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m crushed,” he said, looking anything but. “Here I was thinking you’d rushed in to welcome me back to Pine Falls, maybe even invite me out for a drink.”
“I’ll leave that to Emily,” she tartly responded. “She seemed all over you. Are you dating her?”
Logan looked startled. “No, I’m not dating her. She’s with Deakin and Claybourne, my lawyers. She’s Emily Claybourne.”
“Deakin and Claybourne. Lawyers. Ah, I should have guessed.” Once again her stomach twisted into a painful knot, just like it had a few hours ago. She drew in a breath to steady herself. “I got a letter from them this morning.” She felt inside the back pocket of her jeans, her fingers slightly clumsy, and pulled out the letter in question. “Something about an offer to purchase.”
A puzzled look came over Logan’s face. “You got an offer?”
“Yeah, just like all the store owners on my street did. You want to buy us all out.” She paused. “Why are you confused? Don’t you know about this?”
He made an impatient gesture with his hand. “I’m planning to redevelop the block on Colfax Road, yes, but what does that have to do with you?”
“I own the hardware store on Colfax Road!” she burst out, unable to contain her feelings any longer. “Jesus, don’t you know that?”
He waved a hand. “My lawyers are responsible for contacting the property owners.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Bennett’s Home Center? That’s really yours?”
“Yes, it’s mine, and there’s no need to look so incredulous,” she seethed. “I might have grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, but I do have enough brains to run my own business.”
“But what happened to old Tom Bennett?”
“He retired two years ago and sold the business to me. He’s down in Florida now, sipping mai tais and wooing the ladies in his retirement village.”
She owed Tom Bennett a lot. He’d given her part-time work while she was studying at the local community college for her associate degree, and then, later on, when the garden center in Sacramento had made her redundant and she’d wanted to return to Pine Falls, he’d hired her full time. She’d worked hard for Tom, and in return he’d shown her what running a small business really took. When he’d turned sixty-eight and grew tired of the long hours and cold winters, he’d offered her the business, helping her to organize her finances so that they could both achieve their dreams. She missed Tom, still called the old man at least once a month. He was the closest thing she’d ever had to a father figure.
Logan was looking at her with startled eyes. Was he so amazed that someone like her, who’d grown up in a trailer park, with no daddy and a mom whose proudest achievement was winning a Cher lookalike competition, could pull herself up by her bootstraps and own a viable business?
“Is it true?” she blurted.
“Is what true?” he asked, still looking astounded.
“That you’re planning to raze the whole block and build a mega hardware store?” Acid spiked in her stomach. A mega center, with a hundred times more product than hers and the financial muscle to undercut every one of her prices, would sound the death knell for her little corner store. And it wasn’t like she could simply relocate to another part of town. A business that size would put the hammer on all small hardware stores within a fifty-mile radius. When she’d heard the rumor this morning from her neighbor Peggy, who ran a bakery, her innards had scrambled, and as each of her other neighbors had repeated the same story, the sick feeling had intensified. Surely it wasn’t true? Surely all her hard work and dreams of independence would not be wiped out?
Logan let out a breath. His gaze steadied on her, his expression stripped of all levity. “Yes, it’s true.”
Three small words pierced the shell of bravado that had held her together this far. She felt herself crack inside, felt her fears seep out like toxic oil. But no way in hell was she going to break down in front of Logan Wright. He’d humiliated her once, a long time ago back in high school. She’d gotten over it, but the scar was still there, a lingering reminder. She wouldn’t let him hurt her again.
She slapped the letter on his desk and glowered at him.
“Well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Maybe you expect everyone to roll over and play nice for you because you’re a Wright and your family practically founded this town, but I’m not one of them. I’m not selling to you or to anyone else, so you can just take your offer and stick it somewhere dark and uncomfortable.”
…
Logan Wright tugged at his silk tie. The damn thing was too tight, too hot. But he knew the tie wasn’t responsible for his rise in temperature but the woman who stood before him, vibrating with defiance and sass.
How many years had passed since he’d last spoken with Amber Miller? Must be going on twelve years. To his surprise, their last encounter was still fresh in his memory, especially the glass of Coke she’d dumped over his head in front of Tatum. Yeah, he could still remember the sticky liquid dribbling through his hair, the ice cubes sliding down his neck, the embarrassment reddening his face while the other diners in the restaurant snickered at him. As if that evening hadn’t been difficult enough, with Tatum behaving like they were still dating and him trying to make her understand that it really was over. He’d felt like a giant dork, with everyone staring at him and Tatum squealing in horror. Sure, maybe he should’ve explained the situation to Amber beforehand, but she shouldn’t have lashed out and caused that ugly scene at the restaurant that had everyone’s tongues wagging for months. No one had ever humiliated him like that before. Or since.
He’d been mad at her then, but now he couldn’t scrape up any ill-feeling. Maybe because he was too busy stopping his jaw from hitting the ground—Amber looked so damn hot. She’d always looked hot, even back in high school, where she’d favored black lipstick, black eye shadow, and black clothes adorned with chains and metal studs. Now, the angry Goth chick vibe was gone, and she looked…stunning. That thick, shiny, russet hair of hers was magnificent, even in a messy ponytail. Her skin was smooth and creamy, her lips full and pink. Her faded jeans had seen better days, but they clung to her thighs in a very distracting manner. She stood ramrod straight, legs slightly apart, her Timberland boots shedding sawdust on his Persian carpet. Her sherry-colored eyes were big, thick-lashed, and filled with the same defiance he remembered.
She was waiting for him to speak, and her ornery stance indicated she was ready for a fight.
He didn’t want to fight with Amber. Well, not in the usual way, although he could see them enjoying a different kind of tussle between the sheets—dang, why are my thoughts headed that way? Severing his carnal imaginings, he gestured to the Chesterfield couch on the other side of his office. Instinct told him to avoid them sitting on opposite sides of his desk. Better for this encounter to be friendly rather than adversarial.
“Why don’t we take a seat?” Logan said. Amber hesitated for a moment before allowing him to usher her toward the Chesterfield. “Would you like something to drink? I can ask Pablo to make us some coffee.”
“No, thanks.” She shot him an annoyed look as she dropped onto the couch, clearly unappreciative of his amiable mood. “I’m not here for a friendly chat.”
She crossed her legs, her tight jeans once again drawing his attention to her curvy hips and rounded thighs. A small tear in the denim three inches above her knee revealed a soft mound of honey-colored flesh, and a spark of heat lit up in him, taking him by surprise. He pulled his gaze away from her legs, but then found himself in deeper trouble when he caught sight of her skimpy white T-shirt.
“Uh…” He forced himself to look her in the eye, struggling to string together a coherent sentence out of his overheated brain. “How long have you been running Bennett’s?”
“I’ve been working there for more than five years, and owned it for two.”
Bennett’s Home Center had been around for as long as Logan could remember, enduring through good times and bad.
“The local economy hasn’t been great,” he said. “I imagine it’s been tough running a small business lately.”
It wasn’t easy for bigger businesses, either. Wright Inc, the family-operated private holding company, owned several medium- to large-size enterprises, and none of them had been immune to the economic downturn. In fact, when he’d taken over as CEO, he’d been shocked at the trouble his family business was in. But none of that was common knowledge, even though he’d had to close a number of businesses and lay off workers.
Instantly, Amber’s chin went up again. “I’ve done all right. More than all right, in fact. I’ve increased turnover, reduced costs, and hired more staff.”
“I’m impressed. That can’t have been easy.”
“I don’t need your compliments. I just want you to stay out of my business.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. That whole block is crying out for redevelopment. You know that warehouse behind your store that covers half the block? It’s been sitting empty for years. I bought it last month. That just leaves the strip of stores that you and your neighbors occupy. Five properties in total, most of them run down and in need of renovation. It’s a crying shame to let that all go to waste. My plan is to knock everything down and start from scratch. Build a new hardware store and garden center. It’ll have the biggest selection and the best prices, everything for the home and garden under one roof.” He was starting to sound like a sales pitch, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d spent so much time planning this project. It would put Wright Inc back on a sound financial footing and provide plenty of new jobs. Never before had he been so personally involved in a business decision.
Amber was clenching and unclenching her fists as if preparing herself for physical combat. “You—you can’t do that. Who are you to make these decisions anyway? Your father runs the company.”
“Not anymore, he doesn’t. My dad retired six months ago and handed the reins over to me. I’m in charge now.”
If only that were one hundred percent true. Having headed up the family business for almost thirty years, Blaine Wright was having a hard time letting go, despite his doctor’s recommendations he do so for the sake of his health. Logan might be CEO, but his father was still the majority shareholder and persisted in breathing over Logan’s shoulder. As for the mega center, at first Blaine had been utterly opposed, thinking it too risky and over-ambitious, but gradually Logan had won him over. Now Blaine was badgering him to get it done pronto. There was no middle ground when it came to his father.
Logan could do without the interference. He was damn good at what he did, and the family company was facing dire times. His father still wouldn’t accept how close they’d come to bankruptcy, or that he was mostly responsible for that. Logan wasn’t interested in blaming anyone; he just wanted to turn their fortunes around and save his dad from stress. Once his superstore was up and running, profits would recover, and Blaine would relax and maybe even take that cruise he was always promising Logan’s mom. But Logan had to make sure everything went right. He couldn’t afford any slip ups.
“Fine, then.” Amber jumped to her feet. “Since you’re in charge of this godawful project, I’m telling you my answer is no. N. O. I’m not selling to you or anyone else.”
“Surely we can work something out?” He gave her his most winning smile, the one that never failed him.
Instead of softening, she snorted. “Don’t try your tricks on me, Logan. It won’t work. I’m immune to your charm.”
“You sure about that?”
She pressed her lips together. “Definitely.” Her chin went up. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
That got to him, a dig in his stomach. She thought he’d made a fool of her, but it wasn’t like that. And she’d made a fool of him, too. It hadn’t been one-sided.
“Call me a gambler,” he drawled, “but I’m betting you’ll want to discuss this later when you’ve gotten over your hurt pride.”
“Hurt pride?” Her eyes sizzled, and again he felt that inconvenient jolt of lust. “Seems like that’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
He sketched her a mocking bow. “Looking forward to your next visit, kettle. Or are you the pot? Next time, call ahead so poor Pablo doesn’t get so flustered.”
She opened her mouth as if to deliver another riposte, but then she pressed her lips shut, tossed her head so hard her ponytail fell loose, and stalked out of his office, looking like steam was simmering off her.
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