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The enormity of what she was asking him to do struck Sam with the charged force of a lightning bolt. Kelli quite literally was entrusting him with her children’s lives.
Trading places had seemed relatively uncomplicated until this point, even with the two of them sleeping under one roof. Making meals, reading bedtime stories, he wasn’t looking forward to spending time with children, but one didn’t need a PhD to handle that. Deadly allergic reactions, however, were a whole other matter.
For the past six years, Sam had studiously avoided thinking about what kind of father he would make—would have made had things turned out differently. His own father had been firm and somewhat distant, paying the bills and offering his approval on rare occasions. Sam’s mother, a nanny and the teachers at his boarding school had seen to the details.
But when he stepped into Kelli Walters’s single-parent shoes, there would be no one else to whom he could relegate those details. It would all come down to him for an entire month.
“Yes or no?” she asked.
She was sitting next to him on the couch, her gaze unwavering. He didn’t realize he’d reached for her hand until he felt her fingers grip his.
“Yes.” He squeezed hers in return as he added the phrase he had not uttered to a woman in more than six years. “I promise you.”
With some regret, Kelli left her girls with the sitter Saturday morning and hustled not to be late for her hair and makeover appointment. If nothing else, she mused, she would get a much-needed haircut and highlights out of this experience. Not to mention some great clothes.
The show had tried to talk her into going to a chic salon and some of the designer shops on Chicago’s famed Michigan Avenue. But Kelli had held firm in her conviction that as the acting vice president of Danbury’s Department Stores, she would use the people, the products and the clothing available there.
It was her first decision as acting vice president and CEO, and she believed it set the tone for her brief tenure. She wanted to ensure that consumers who normally did not shop at Danbury’s would give the store a second glance after watching the show.
A camera crew filmed her transformation from the first snip of hair and stroke of mascara to the point when, sleekly coifed, she stepped into a pair of stylish leather heels that cost nearly as much as two weeks’ worth of groceries.
She barely recognized the image that stared back at her from the dressing room’s large tri-fold mirror. Her hair had been highlighted and cut even with her chin, managing to look professional despite the sassy little flip it did at its ends.
Her makeup was slightly more dramatic than if she had applied it herself, but the effect brought out her high cheekbones and gave her eyes an almost exotic quality.
And her clothes…
She smiled and did a little turn to admire them from all angles. She’d opted for something a little trendier than classic. The short peach skirt with its flirty, ruffled hem wasn’t exactly her style, but she liked the tank-style tangerine sweater that had been paired with it, as well as its matching cardigan. She decided if she went too conservative, she might give younger viewers the impression that Danbury’s was still their grandparents’ department store, not the place they could go for fun outfits and accessories.
A consultant from the television show helped Kelli pick out a couple dozen different outfits for work and day wear as well as three evening gowns and a couple of cocktail dresses. She’d balked at first. Did she really need so much? But after some persuading and with someone else picking up the tab, she finally got into playing Cinderella.
An hour after the last of her purchases had been boxed up for delivery, she found herself—in a limo no less—being whisked to Sam’s home in a gated community in the suburbs of Chicago that boasted its own exclusive golf course.
The house was as big as she had imagined it would be and looked recently built, judging from the size of the shrubs and staked trees that dotted the landscape. The house was what was called a story-and-a-half, with a tall, pitched roof and lots of big fancy windows that screamed high energy bills. She’d bet her paycheck it was at least 4,500 square feet of living space.
Sam answered the door himself and Kelli had the satisfaction of watching his mouth drop open when he saw her new look.
“Something the matter?” she asked, unable to keep her smug smile in check.
“I haven’t decided.”
“Indecisive? You? Hmm. I thought you had everything figured out.”
She was flirting with him and they both knew it, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. It had been a long time—a very long time—since she’d felt young and attractive.
She thought she heard him murmur, “So did I.”
“Are you going to let me in or do I have to stand out here in the heat?”
“You come in and it won’t be much cooler in the house,” he replied. Still, he stepped aside to allow her to enter.
He was flirting with her as well, she realized.
He didn’t look much like a powerful executive today. In place of a tailored suit, he wore a pair of faded jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt. His feet were bare. And while he was no bodybuilder, his arms were far more muscular than she would have guessed and the broad shoulders were definitely authentic. Urbane, physically fit and mentally agile. Arlene had pegged him right: Sam Maxwell was Pierce Brosnan as James Bond.
“You clean up amazingly well,” he said.
They stood in the foyer, a step too close together, and yet Kelli didn’t back away. She should have put an end to this inappropriate byplay, but like a moth drawn to the danger of a flame, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so. If it was part of his strategy to win, she wanted him to know that two could play his game.
Surely that was the only reason she let her gaze flick down to his bare feet and back up before replying, “And you dress down well. I wouldn’t have guessed you owned jeans.”
“We’re even then. I wouldn’t have guessed you owned high heels.”
“Oh, I’m full of surprises,” she said.
“I’m beginning to think so.”
He reached out, and for a moment she thought he might stroke her cheek, but he drew a ribbon of her hair between his index and middle fingers instead, following its length to the freshly snipped ends.
“You cut your hair.”
The breath seemed to back up in her lungs and it took an effort to squeeze out the words, “Yes, among other things. What do you think of my makeover?”
“I’m not sure I can think.”
If this was mere flirting, it had taken on a dangerous edge. And still, Kelli did not back away. In fact, she moved forward ever so slightly, testing this new power she seemed to have. Testing herself.
“Come now, a man of your immense control and mental fortitude? I find that hard to believe.” She allowed a smile to slowly lift the corners of her mouth.
“Are you sure you want to know what I really think?” The space between them grew perilously meager as he stepped forward, all but pinning her between his body and the equally unyielding wall.
“Yes.”
The breathy whisper seemed to come from a stranger. Kelli wasn’t sure she knew herself anymore. She certainly could no longer fathom her motives for baiting such a powerful and not always pleasant man.
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