That Night with the CEO

“But you don’t,” she blurted.

The color drained from her face, but that gorgeous mouth of hers was just as rosy pink as he’d remembered. Just thinking about her lips traveling down the centerline of his chest charged every atom in his body. She didn’t say another thing, but he swore he could hear her heartbeat, drumming between her heavy breaths.

“How would you know?” he asked, wishing he felt more triumphant at having caught her.

She straightened in her seat, struggling to compose herself. “Uh...”

“I’m waiting.”

“Waiting for what, exactly?”

“Waiting to hear the real reason why you know I have a dog and what my apartment looks like. I’m waiting for you to just say it, Mel.”

* * *

Melanie’s shoulders drooped under the burden of her own idiocy. Her mother had always been emphatic that a lady never lies. Melanie had already skirted the truth, and she didn’t want to be that person. “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. Did you honestly think that I wouldn’t?”

His disbelief made her want to shrink into nothingness. How could she have been so foolish? “Considering your reputation with women, I figured I was a blip on the map.”

“I never forget a woman.”

His response might have prompted extreme skepticism if he hadn’t said it with such conviction. He hadn’t forgotten her. She knew for a fact that she hadn’t forgotten him. Of course, there were probably lots of other women he hadn’t forgotten, too.

“You changed your hair,” he said.

Her pulse chose a tempo like free-form jazz—stopping and starting. He really did notice everything. “Yes, I cut it.”

“The color’s different. See, I still remember what it looked like splayed across the pillows of my bed.” He rose from his seat and stalked back around the kitchen island, refilling his wineglass. Plainly still angry, he didn’t offer her more. “Did you really not see a problem with taking this job even though we’d slept together? I’m assuming you didn’t reveal that little tidbit to my father. Because if you had, he never would’ve hired you.”

Adam was absolutely right. She’d stepped into a gray area a mile wide, but she needed the payday that came with this job. Her former business partner had crippled her company by leaving and sticking her with an astronomical office lease. The crushing part was that he’d also been her boyfriend—nearly her fiancé—and he’d left because he’d fallen in love with one of their clients.

“I would hope we could be discreet about this. I think it’s best if we just acknowledge that it was a one-time thing, keep it between us, and not allow it to affect our working relationship.” Mustering a rational string of words calmed her ragged nerves, but only a bit.

“One-time thing? Is that what that was? Because you don’t seem like a woman who runs around Manhattan picking up men she doesn’t know. Trust me, I meet those women all the time.”

Did it bother him that it had been a one-night stand? She wasn’t proud of the fact either, but she never imagined it would even faze Adam. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“What about the contract my father had you sign? The clause about no fraternization between you and the client?”

“Exactly why I thought it best to ignore our past. I need this job and you need to clean up your image. It’s a win-win.”

“So you need the job. This is about money.”

“Yes. I need it. Your father is a very powerful man, and having a recommendation from him could do big things for my company.” Why she’d put her entire hand out on the table for him to see was beyond her, but she wasn’t going to sugarcoat anything.

“What if I told you that I don’t want to do this?”

She swallowed, hard. Adam was doing nothing more than setting up roadblocks, and they were becoming formidable. If he wanted to, he could end her job right then and there, send her packing. All she could do now was make her case. “Look, I understand that you’re mad. The scandal is horrible and I didn’t make things any better by hoping that you wouldn’t recognize me. That was stupid on my part, and I’m sorry. But if you’re looking for a reason to go through with this, you don’t need to look any further than your dad. He’s not just worried about his company and your family’s reputation. He’s worried about what this will do to your career. He doesn’t want your talents to be overshadowed by tabloid stories.”

Dead quiet settled on the room. Adam seemed deep in reflection. “I appreciate the apology.”

“Thank you for accepting it.” Had she finally laid this to rest? She took a deep breath and hoped so.

“And yes, it was incredibly stupid on your part. I’d go so far as to call it harebrained.”

There went the instant of newfound calm, just as Melanie’s stomach growled so loudly that Adam’s eyes grew as large as dinner plates.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, horrified, wrapping one arm around her midsection to muffle the sound.

“Coming up with bad ideas must’ve made you very hungry.”

“Very funny. I’m fine.” She shifted in her seat, mad at herself for not owning up to the fact that she would’ve killed for a day-old doughnut. Her stomach chimed in, as well.

“I can’t listen to that anymore,” he declared. “It’s unsettling.” He marched to the fridge and opened it, pulling out a covered glass bowl. “My cook made marinara before I sent her home. It’ll take a few minutes to make pasta.”

“Let me help.” Desperate for the distraction of a new topic, she shot out of her bar stool and walked to the other side of the island. Jack followed in her wake.

“Help with what? Boiling water?” He cast her an incredulous smirk. “Sit.”

“Are you talking to me or Jack?”

He cracked half a smile and she felt a little as if she might crack. In half. “You. Jack can do whatever he wants.”

“Of course.” She filed back to her seat and watched as he filled a tall pot with water and placed it on the six-burner cooktop. “Careful or I might have to book you an appearance on the Food Network.”

“You should see me make breakfast.” He sprinkled salt into the water then placed a saucepan on the stove and lit the flame beneath it. “I could’ve made you my world-famous scrambled eggs if you hadn’t done your Cinderella routine that night and taken off.”

The man had no fear of uncomfortable subjects. What was she supposed to say to that?

“Care to comment, Cinderella?”

“I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat and picked at her fingernail. “I couldn’t stay.”

Adam spooned the sauce into the pan, shaking his head. “That’s a horrible excuse.”

Excuse or not, there was no way she could’ve stayed. She couldn’t bear the rejection of Adam running her off the next morning. She couldn’t bear to hear that he’d call her when she knew that he wouldn’t. She’d already suffered one soul-crushing brush-off that month, from the guy she’d thought she would marry. The pain of a second would’ve prompted the question of whether she might make a good nun. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”

Wisps of steam rose from the pot, and the aroma of tomato sauce filled the air. Adam dropped in a package of fresh pasta and gave it a stir. “All I’m wondering is why you wouldn’t stick around when you have that kind of chemistry with someone. At least say goodbye or leave a note. I didn’t even know your last name.”

When he had the nerve to say it out loud—to be so rational about it—it sounded as if she’d done the most insane thing ever. Wait. Chemistry? She’d assumed that what she’d felt was mostly one-sided, a lethal combination of champagne and Mr. Smooth. Regret and embarrassment weighed on her equally. What if she’d stuck around? Would he have said what he was saying now? “Hopefully you can find a way to forgive me.”

He narrowed his gaze, eyes locking on hers. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me the real reason.”

Oh, no, that’s not going to happen.

The timer buzzed. Adam gripped the pot handles with a kitchen towel and emptied the contents into the prep sink. Steam rushed up around his face and he blew a strand of hair from his forehead. He slung the towel over his shoulder, capable as could be, adding the noodles to the sauté pan and giving the mixture a toss with a flick of his wrist. The most brilliant man to hit the business world in recent history, the man who’d given her the most exhilarating night of her life, was toiling away in the kitchen. For her.

Adam divided the pasta into two bowls and grated fresh Parmesan on top. He set one bowl before her and filled her wineglass then topped off his own. Tempting smells wafted to her nose, relief from her epic hunger in reach. He took his seat, saddling her with a return of nerves. Now that they were shoulder to shoulder again, she was acutely aware of the specter of Adam Langford.

“Cheers,” he said in a tone still more annoyed than cheery. He extended his arm and clinked her glass with his.

“Thank you. This looks incredible.” She took a bite. It was far better than her usual Friday night fare, Chinese takeout on the couch. She dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “This is delicious. Thank you.” Quieting her rumbling stomach was wonderful, but they hadn’t resolved the greater issue—she still wasn’t sure he was willing to let her do her job. “Now that we’ve talked through things, are we okay to get to work tomorrow? We need to bury the Party Princess scandal.”

“Can we put a ban on saying that? No man wants a scandal, but the princess part just makes it worse.”

“I know it’s awful. That’s precisely why I’m here. I can make all of that go away.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just ignore it. Aren’t we feeding the fire if we go on the defensive?”

“If we had a year or more, that might work, but with your father’s illness, there just isn’t that kind of time. I’m so sorry to say that. I really wish that part was for a different reason.”

“So you know. The timetable.” Adam blew out a deep breath and set down his fork.

Her heart went out to him. She could only imagine what he was going through, about to ascend to the immensely powerful job he’d likely dreamed of since he was a boy, all because his father’s cancer was terminal. “Yes. He told me in confidence. I think he needed me to understand just how urgent this is. It’s crucial that the board of directors see you in a better light so they’ll approve your appointment to CEO. The scandal needs to be a distant memory by the time the succession is formally announced at the company gala. That’s only a few weeks away.”

“The board of directors. Good luck with that.” He shook his head, just as his phone rang. “I’m sorry. I have to take this.”

“Of course.”

Adam got up from his seat and walked into the living room. Melanie was thankful for a break from persuading him that she could do this. Even if he cooperated, the pressure of turning around public perception in a month was monumental. She wasn’t entirely sure she could pull it off. She only knew that she had to.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, when he got off the phone. “Problems with the launch of a new app next week.”

“Please don’t apologize. I understand.” Melanie got up and took her dish to the sink. She rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. “You should finish your dinner. I’m going to grab my suitcase and get some rest. If you could point me in the direction of the guest room.”

“Call me old-fashioned, but no woman should have to go out in the rain for a suitcase. I’ll do it.” He held up a finger, just as she was about to protest. “I insist.”

She watched from the doorway as he braved the rain and wind without a jacket. His hair and shirt were soaked by the time he was back inside. He stomped on the entryway rug and combed his fingers through his dripping-wet hair. Her mind flashed to their night together—stepping out of the shower with him, sinking into the softest bathmat she’d ever felt beneath her feet. He’d raked his hand through his soaked locks, a sultry look in his eyes that said he was ready to claim her again. He’d coiled his arms around her naked waist, pressed his hands into her back, and kissed her neck so delicately that she’d trembled beneath his touch.

She might faint if she ever saw him toy with his wet hair again.

“Your room is upstairs. Second door on the right.”

Adam trailed behind her as she climbed the grand staircase.

“This one?” she asked, poking her head inside, still a bit light-headed from the memory of the shower.

Adam reached past her and flipped on the light, illuminating a bedroom outfitted with a beautifully dressed king bed, a stacked stone fireplace and its own seating area. “I hope this will work.” He followed her into the room, placing her suitcase on a luggage stand next to a gorgeous Craftsman-style bureau.

“It’s perfect.” Melanie turned to face him, his physical presence exercising undue influence on her as he rubbed the closely cropped stubble dotting his jawline. Her brain wasn’t sure how to react to his kindness, but her body knew exactly what it thought. The flutter in her chest returned. Heat flooded her, the memory of his fingers tracing the length of her spine while he had her in a bed much like the one she was standing next to. “Thank you for everything. The room. Fetching my suitcase.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not the cad the world thinks I am.” He strode past her, stopping in the doorway.

She wasn’t sure what Adam was, where exactly the truth lay. Maybe she’d find out this weekend. And maybe she’d never know. “That’s good. That will make it a lot easier to show the world the best side of Adam Langford.”

A clever smirk crossed his face. “You’ve seen me naked, so I’d say you’re definitely qualified to say which is my best side.”

Melanie’s brain sputtered. Her cheeks flamed with heat.

“Good night,” he said, turning and walking away.

Three

Melanie sat up in bed, half-awake, tugging the butter-soft duvet to her chest. Last night hadn’t gone according to plan, but in many ways, it was a relief to have the whole, stupid, ridiculously hot thing out in the open.

It’d taken hours to fall asleep. Adam’s reminder that she’d seen him naked had only set her on the course of determining which side was indeed his best. After revisiting their night together...kissing in the limo, unzipping her dress in his living room, peeling the paint off the walls in the shower...she’d decided the front. Definitely the front.

Too bad she could never see him like that again.

She threw back the covers and glanced outside at the open vista of the grounds surrounding the house. A creek rushed along the edge of manicured gardens, threatening to breach its rocky banks. Towering pines framed the view of the Blue Ridge Mountains beyond. It was a new day, storms a distant memory. Time to start fresh.

She retrieved her makeup bag, beelining to the beautifully appointed guest bath—gray granite countertops and silvery glass tile, a soaking tub for two. After a quick shower, she dabbed on foundation and undereye concealer to hide her lack of sleep. A sweep of blush, some eyeliner and a coat of mascara came next. Polished was appropriate, not done-up.

Finishing with a sheer layer of pale peach lip gloss, Melanie rubbed her lips together and popped them to the mirror. She could hear her mother’s syrupy Virginia drawl. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. She remembered first hearing that when she was a little girl, only six years old. It was the strongest memory she had of her mother, which also made it the most bittersweet. She and her sisters lost her to a car accident months later.

Melanie ruffled her pixie-cut hair and swept it to the side. Lopping off and dying her hair to exorcise the memory of her lying, cheating ex might have been drastic, but she’d had this crazy idea about renewal. It hadn’t really worked. She still hadn’t gotten past the fact that she’d thought Josh would propose. She hadn’t forgotten that he’d packed up and left with another woman, leaving her to fend for herself. No, she might’ve looked a little different on the outside, but she was the same Melanie on the inside—hurt some of the time, lonely most of the time, determined not to quit all of the time.

Back in her room, she slipped on a white scoop-neck tee, black cardigan and slim-fitting pair of jeans. She stepped into ballet flats and hurried downstairs, the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen. She was invigorated, undaunted, ready to go. And then she saw Adam.

You’ve got to be kidding me. She’d come downstairs prepared to work, but she hadn’t bargained on Adam’s bare chest. Or his bare stomach. Or an extra eight hours of scruff along his jaw and the narrow trail of hair below his belly button. More than that, she hadn’t bargained on any part of him glistening with sweat.

“Morning.” He stood in the kitchen, consulting his phone. “I made coffee. Let me get you a mug.” He turned, opened the cabinet and reached for a coffee cup. Gentlemanly behavior, all while showing off the sculpted contours of his shoulders and defined ripples of his back.

Her eyes drifted south, calling into question whether the front really was the best. The way he filled out the rear view of his basketball shorts made a compelling case for the back. Then she remembered what that view looked like without clothes. She was all kinds of conflicted over the best-side verdict.

“Cream? Sugar?” he asked, filling her mug.

“Both, please.” She shook her head in an attempt to think straight. “I’ll do it.”

“Help yourself.” He gestured to a small white pitcher and sugar bowl. “Sleep well?”

She spooned the sugar into the mug, gluing her focus to the steaming coffee. “I did, thank you. I’m ready to get started whenever you are. We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

“Already got in my workout.”

“So I see.” She turned, but even a fraction of a second was too long to look at Adam right now. Her eyes darted all over the room, desperate for something undesirable to look at.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. It’s just...” Her voice trailed off, betraying her. “You can’t put on a shirt?”

“Why? Does it bother you? I can’t help the fact that I’m hot.” He grabbed her attention with his blazing smile, smoothing his hand over the flat plane of his stomach.

“Excuse me?”

“Hot, as in temperature hot.”

Damn him. “It’s a little difficult for us to keep things professional when you’re traipsing around the house half-dressed.”

“I assure you, I have never once traipsed.”

“Regardless, isn’t it polite to wear a shirt to breakfast?”

“It is. My mother always made me wear one when I was a kid. She also told me to floss every day and wear clean underwear. So I’ll be two-for-three today. Nobody’s perfect.”

He knows what he’s doing. He’s making me crazy because he can. “Look, we have a ton of work to do. I suggest you grab a shower so we can start.”

“It’ll go faster if I have someone to scrub my back.”

“Adam, please. The contract I signed? No fraternization or interpersonal relations? I take those things very seriously, and I know your dad does, too.”

“We both know the only way to enforce that is the honor system.” His eyebrows bounced.

“Yeah, well, you need to keep your honor system in your pants.”

“Hey, you’re the one suggesting showers. Not me.”

Melanie exhaled in exasperation. “Things will go smoother today if you cooperate. Why do you have to joke around about everything?”

“Because it’s Saturday and I work my ass off all week and I’d much rather read a book or catch a game on TV than practice answers to interview questions and talk about whether or not you think Oprah will like me.”

“First off, Oprah said no. Secondly, I know you hate this, but we have to put the scandal to an end.” Her phone buzzed. “Excuse me. I should check this.” She reached into her pocket. The push notification on her phone did not bring good news. “There’s something new in the papers this morning. A reporter got your ex-fiancée to comment on the scandal.” She shook her head, feeling a little sorry for Adam. “This is why you need to let me do my job. This can’t be what you want.”

Adam buried his face in his hand. Jack wandered over and nudged Adam’s hip. “Hey, buddy.” Adam’s voice was tinged in sadness, which seemed odd considering his fondness for his dog. He crouched down and looked Jack in the face, ruffling his ears. “No, that’s not what I want.”

* * *

Adam parked himself on the long leather bench in his walk-in closet and untied his sneakers, cradling his cell phone between his ear and shoulder. His mother answered after a few rings.

“Mom, hi. Is Dad around?”

“Well, hello to you, too. You don’t want to talk to me?”

“Of course I want to talk to you, but I was hoping to talk to Dad and see how he’s doing.” He peeled off his socks and tossed them across the room, connecting with the hamper.

“Your father’s fine. I’m screening his calls. Otherwise, he takes work calls all weekend and never gets any rest. He needs his rest.”

Dad. Once a workaholic, always a workaholic. “Has he been tired since he got home last night?”

“Yes. Fridays are the worst. I don’t know why he continues with this charade of going into LangTel every day.”

“I don’t know why he does it either.”

LangTel was the telecom corporation Adam’s father started from the ground up in the seventies. Adam had grown up heir apparent, but once he went to Harvard Business School, he realized that—just like his father and every Langford man before him—he would never be content taking over someone else’s empire. He wanted to build his own, which was precisely why he started his first company while he was still in school. It made him his first fortune before the age of twenty-four.

Even so, when his parents had asked him to help run LangTel from behind the scenes after his father first fell ill, he had done his familial duty. At the time, Roger Langford’s prognosis was uncertain and they didn’t want him to appear “weak” for fear of the company stock plummeting.

It was meant to be a dry run and Adam passed with flying colors, but it was the worst year of his life—preparing to launch his current company while running interference at LangTel. The timing couldn’t have been any worse—right on the heels of his fiancée ending their two-year relationship. LangTel had worn a hole in his psyche.

“At some point,” Adam continued, “we’re going to have to tell the world that his cancer is far worse than anyone realizes. I’m tired of the song and dance.”

“I agree, but your father doesn’t want to say a word until things have been cleared up for you with, you know, the newspapers.”

His mother couldn’t bring herself to utter the word scandal, and he was thankful for it. At least it had been only photographs that had been leaked and not something worse, like a sex tape. Adam glanced at his Tag Heuer watch, which sat atop the mahogany bureau in the center of the closet. It was nearly nine thirty and Melanie had been clear that she was ready to get to work. “Hey, Mom. Can I put you on speaker?”

“You know I hate that.”

“I’m sorry. I just have to get into the shower in a minute.” He pressed the speaker icon on his iPhone. He shucked his basketball shorts and boxer briefs and tossed them over his head, but missed the hamper this time. “I’ll talk to Dad about it when I’m back in the city. Maybe I can come by on Sunday afternoon after I fly in.”

“Be sure you call first. There are still photographers camped outside our building. You might have to sneak in through the service entrance.”

Such a pain. It was one thing for him to have to deal with the photographers, quite another for his mother and father to have to do it. “Okay.” He grabbed his robe from the end of the bench and slipped it on.

“If you want to stay for dinner, we could invite your sister, too. Your father and I would love that.”