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The pressure to be perfect was immense and it was generally accepted that she became an overachiever because that was what her parents expected. Sure, that was part of the reason, but no one knew that she was terrified of messing up, of doing or saying the wrong thing.
Of being banished like Will, her older brother.
As a result, her desire to please her parents still lingered. They wouldn’t be very impressed with her now, she thought, reflecting on the trouble she’d landed herself in. Then again, she was fairly sure that Edna and Bill Collins had been expecting her to mess up again since she’d run off to Southeast Asia with Beck Ballantyne nine years before. She’d wanted to be with Beck more than she’d wanted to please her mom and dad and...boom! Fireworks.
This latest bombshell would rock their world again. Cady pushed the tips of her fingers into her forehead and held back a whimper. And that was without telling them that her business was rocky and she was running out of options to keep it on the rails.
“Cady?”
Cady jerked her head up to see a small blonde and a tall brunette standing next to her table. The blonde looked familiar, but she instantly recognized the classic good looks of Julia Parker, a Fortune 500 business consultant who socialized with the great and good of New York society. Cady would never forget Julia, especially since the woman had recently convinced Trott’s Sports—a corporate sports store that was one of two clients that paid Cady a hefty monthly retainer—to not renew their contract with Collins Consulting.
Thank God she was still contracted to Natural Fuel, Tom’s company, a chain of health food outlets, to handle their media releases and promotions. Without that contract, she’d be sunk.
Losing Trott’s had left her with a sizable hole in her business bank account. And without her biggest client. Cady resisted the urge to toss her tomato juice over Julia’s pristine white dress and instead held out her hand to shake. God, sometimes being an adult sucked.
“Cady Collins, Collins Consulting.”
Julia immediately made the connection.
“Trott’s... They couldn’t afford to renew,” Julia murmured, and wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”
Cady shrugged.
“Are you doing okay?”
Julia’s question surprised her; she didn’t expect her to ask or to sound like she cared. Cady lifted her hands up in a “what can I do” gesture. “It’s tough.”
“For what it’s worth, I like your work,” Julia stated, and Cady heard and appreciated the sincerity in her statement.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” the blonde demanded, pulling their attention back to her, her smile bright and big.
Cady shook her head.
“I’m Amy Cook. We met on Phi Phi island when you were traveling with Beck years ago.”
Beck. Funny, she’d just been thinking about him. Like that’s a coincidence, Cady mocked herself. You’ve been thinking about the man, pretty much constantly, for the best part of the last decade.
Cady cocked her head and peered at the woman. The image of her with waist-length blond hair and a thong bikini popped into her head. “I remember you. You flirted shamelessly with Beck.”
“She flirts with everyone. Don’t take it personally,” Julia said, a rich chuckle following her words.
“Do you live in Manhattan?” Amy demanded. “What do you do? Are you married? Do you have children?”
Cady didn’t know which question to answer first. Work was easy, the other questions were a tad more complicated. “Um... I live in Brooklyn and I have my own PR company.”
Amy’s eyes widened. “Really? Seriously?”
Millions of women worked in PR and many owned their own companies. Why was this such a surprise? Speaking of business, she desperately needed to drum up some, and it wasn’t every day that she bumped into one of the best business consultants in the city, so Cady reached into her tote bag and pulled out a business card.
She handed Julia the card with a small shrug. “I’d be grateful if you kept me in mind if any of your clients need PR or any marketing help. I’m good, efficient and reasonable.”
Julia took the card from her and nodded. “I’ll do that.”
Amy cocked her head, and her dark brown eyes connected with Cady’s. “You didn’t tell me if you’re married or if you have children.”
Yeah, right. She was not discussing any of those thorny subjects with a woman she’d exchanged ten words with nearly ten years ago.
Cady looked at the entrance of Bonnets and faked a smile. “Ah, the person I’m waiting for has arrived. It was interesting running into you again, Amy. Nice to meet you, Julia.”
“But—” Amy protested.
“Come on.” Julia placed a hand on Amy’s back and pushed her away. “Let’s find someone else you can practice your CIA interrogation skills on.”
Cady rolled her eyes. Of all the people in the world she’d thought she’d never see again, and whom she never wanted to see again, Amy was at the top of her list. Nearly a decade ago, Beck had tired of Cady and he’d sent her home so that he could sow his wild oats all over the Asian subcontinent. Once Cady left, she was sure Amy had stepped right on into the space, in bed and out, that Cady had occupied in Beck’s life.
Beck had been and still was the honey that female bees flocked to. She watched his subtle flirting, heard him laughing with Amy, and she’d felt like she couldn’t compete with the blonde bombshell.
Cady was long, lanky and not overly blessed, as her boyfriend, Tom, told her often enough, in the “boobage” department. But it was more than that. Beck, Amy and the other backpackers they’d met had been just so together, so effortlessly confident. Of course, there were the stoners and weirdos and the lost, but many of the travelers had their lives sorted. They were street-smart and confident and knew where they were going and what to do when they got there.
Thanks to her protected, insulated childhood, she would’ve been utterly lost without Beck making the decisions for her. Was that why he’d ditched her, because she’d been lacking in self-confidence and because she’d become more of a responsibility than a girlfriend?
Who knew? He’d been long on termination and short on explanations. He’d just handed her a ticket and stood in line with her at Passport Control. When she’d cleared that, she’d turned back to look at him through the glass walls and saw him walking away, taking a fair share of her shattered heart with him.
“Cady.”
Cady looked up and accepted Tom’s quick brush of his lips against her cheek. He sat down opposite her and immediately glanced at his watch. “I have about a half hour before I need to be back in the office. Can we make this quick?”
Wow, nice to see you, too, Tom. “I thought we were having dinner together?”
“Can’t. I have some problems at work, so I need to get back to my desk.”
She was sleeping with her client, and the fact that she was still embarrassed her. Tom dismissed her concerns of their lack of professionalism, saying they were both single and it wasn’t a hanging offense. She’d tried to be okay with it but she’d finally made the decision to call it quits. Fate, however, had other ideas.
“You look like hell, Cady. What’s up with that?”
Tom’s jerk quotient always went up when he was stressed, Cady thought. It wasn’t personal, she reminded herself.
But it sure felt pretty personal. Beck had hurt her when he tossed her away, but he’d never talked to her like this. Then again, Tom Steel wasn’t Beck Ballantyne. Nobody could be.
Gorgeous, super-smart and highly successful, he’d set the bar pretty high and no man could reach it.
Let’s get some perspective here, Collins. Beck kicked you out of his life; he sent you away. You expected it from your parents, but not from the man you loved to distraction. Who you thought might love you.
That had been a very erroneous assumption.
Tom’s flat hand hitting the table jolted her back into the present. “Cady! Just say what you have to say, will you?”
Sure.
“I’m pregnant.”
Tom’s low, vicious curse hung in the air between them. “Get rid of it.”
She’d somehow expected him to say that. “Not an option.”
Her parents had rid themselves of Will by sending him to live at a residential home when he was thirteen, and Beck had sent her away, too, but she was not prepared to do the same to her child. Sure, a pregnancy wasn’t convenient, but neither had Will’s autism or her falling in love with Beck been convenient.
You didn’t just erase the problem because you didn’t like the outcome.
Tom’s face turned paper-white. “I need a drink.”
Cady watched Tom walk to the bar and hoped that her baby didn’t inherit his knock-kneed walk. Or his lack of height. Or the cowlick just above his right ear.
He isn’t Beck...
Damn him for being the entire package, both smart and sexy. A blue-eyed wavy haired blond, Beck looked like he belonged on the cover of a surfing magazine. Long-limbed and muscular, he looked as good in a tuxedo as he did in a pair of swimming shorts. Unlike Beckett, Tom didn’t make her head swim or her heart race and she liked it that way. It was an adult relationship with no teenage hormones and irrationality to cloud her thinking. She certainly never felt short of breath or felt the need to rip Tom’s clothes off.
She’d been careful with Tom; she hadn’t given him any of her heart. She’d given Beckett everything—including her virginity—only to be dismissed when he’d had enough of her.
So, yeah, Tom never set her panties, or her heart, on fire and walking away from him was going to be easy. She’d just prefer not to be pregnant while she did it.
Single and pregnant. Her parents were going to be so proud.
Cady rested her hand on her stomach. There was only one fact of which she was certain: she was keeping her baby.
Tom banged his tumbler of whiskey onto the table and sat down again. He lifted his glass to his lips and sent her a long, cold look.
“Is it mine?”
Cady lifted her hands in the air. “Are you crazy? Of course it’s yours. I haven’t slept with anyone else but you since we started dating.”
Tom shrugged. He turned his head toward the bar, leered at a new female arrival and turned back to her, looking supremely disinterested.
“The baby is yours, Tom,” Cady repeated, enunciating the words.
He pouted. “So you say.”
“Tom, we’ve been seeing each other for the best part of a year.”
“I didn’t think we were dating only each other.”
Cady blinked, utterly astounded. What the hell?
Wait, hold on a second... If Tom thought that they weren’t exclusive then that meant that he had colored outside the lines, so to speak. “Have you cheated on me?”
“Since I didn’t think we were exclusive I don’t consider it cheating.”
“You bastard!” Cady stopped herself from banging the table. “Who?”
“Does it matter?” Tom asked, his voice cool. He motioned to her stomach, and his next words catapulted this exchange from a bad dream into a nightmare. “Get rid of it or you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me. I have a contract with you!” Cady stated, not recognizing the cold, heartless man sitting opposite her. God, if she lost Tom’s business, as well...
“So sue me.” Tom shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ll win. Cady, I’m not interested in having a baby. If you want child support you’re going to have to sue me for that, as well,” Tom stated after draining his glass of whiskey. “But I should warn you that I’ll sic both sets of lawyers on you—mine and my wife’s.”
What? His wife’s lawyers? He was divorced; he’d been divorced for a little over a year. He’d divorced her because she’d refused to date him until he was free.
Oh, dear God...
“You called Gretchen your wife.” Cady forced the question through her now-numb lips. “Have you been cheating on me with your wife?”
Tom’s cold look pushed ice into her bones. “Cady, I never divorced her. I’ve been cheating on her...with you.”
* * *
After sending a text message to the group name “family” on his phone—telling them he was fine and enjoying his trip—Beck sat down at the desk in his luxury hotel room to Skype Amy.
His computer did its thing and then Amy’s pixie face filled his screen. She scowled at him. “It’s about time you called.”
“Hello to you, too,” Beck said with a faint smile. Beck wondered, not for the first time, who was the boss in the relationship. He might be a Ballantyne director, but Amy, the PA he shared with Linc and the person he and his siblings entrusted with the most confidential information, was the power behind the throne. “What’s up?”
“So much,” Amy answered and held up her index finger. “Don’t go away. I’m just going to get my wine.”
Beck laughed when Julia hung her face, upside down, over the screen to blow him a kiss. Amy’s long-term partner and soon-to-be wife was a goofball, and around her loved ones, she rarely acted like the cool professional the financial world knew her to be.
Beck picked up his laptop, walked toward the bed and placed the device on the bedside table. He tucked pillows between his head and the headboard of the massive bed and stretched out his legs. He liked beds to be big enough to accommodate his six-four frame.
Beck placed his laptop on his knees and reached for his beer. He sipped it as he watched Amy’s cat, Lazy Joe, jump with great effort onto her chair and curl up into a gray-and-white ball. Amy returned, picked up the cat and resettled the feline on her lap.
“God, look at you with your messy hair and your stubble, wearing only a pair of track pants. So hot.” Amy tossed a quick look over her shoulder. “Julia, I’m thinking of going straight.”
“Stop lusting over Beckett, you pervert. He’s your boss.” Julia’s voice drifted over from the kitchen, sounding perfectly relaxed.
“And you’re not my type. Even if you were straight we’d have no chemistry,” Beck said mildly.
“True. So, I’m now going to ignore that fabulous chest and six-pack abs.”
“So kind,” Beck murmured.
“You look like you’re having a miserable time on your forced break,” Amy commented.
After his first year of working for Ballantyne International, Connor had insisted that, because he was a driven, relentless workaholic with a habit of working sixteen or more hours a day, he take a week off every four months. Initially, he’d felt like Connor was punishing him for working too hard, but he eventually realized that it was his uncle’s way of looking after his health. Connor knew that he couldn’t force Beck to stop working but he could at least manage him.
No one did that now. Connor’s death had leveled the playing fields between him and his brothers and he no longer took orders that he not work so hard. His siblings didn’t understand, and he’d never explain, that he liked to work insane hours, that his devotion to Ballantyne International was his way of showing them that he was an asset to the company, his way to earn and keep his place in his family.
“It was the kid’s fault. He asked them to come home. He’d broken his wrist and he needed to have it pinned and made a big deal about them coming home to be with him.”
“Which one is he?”
“Can’t see him right now. But he’s the middle child, the one who had a panic attack in church.”
“Two lives and a baby on the way—a hell of a price to pay for a broken arm. I wonder if he’ll ever know the damage his whining caused.”
Because Beck was under the table, hidden by the long tablecloth, and listening to the whispered conversations of the mourners invited back to the family home after the funeral, he heard the comments and understood perfectly. His parents’ deaths were his fault.
It was a conclusion he’d already come to. Hearing it spoken aloud just confirmed what he already thought. From that day on, he’d always felt like the outsider looking in and he’d made himself as independent as he possibly could be. He’d emotionally distanced himself from his siblings and, really, it was better that way. Distance allowed a buffer against the hurt that emotional connections always created. Distance allowed him to keep control.
He’d come close to losing control once and he’d paid the price for it. Over two months and on a continent across the world, Cady had snuck under his skin and into his heart and he’d lost himself in her.
She was just a young man’s stupidity, Beck told himself for the millionth time. Every guy had that one woman he idolized in his head. It didn’t mean anything.
He’d been trying for nearly a decade to believe his own BS. At the time she’d meant everything.
“Where are you this time?” Amy demanded, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Please, please tell me you’re lying on a beach somewhere reading a book.”
Not his style. Admittedly, all his breaks were action based and full of physical activity, but at least his brain slowed down from constantly operating at warp speed.
“Saariselkä, Finland.”
“Of course you are. Heli-skiing?”
Beck smiled at her concern. Amy hated it when he indulged in his love for high-risk adventure sports. “Not this time. Cross-country skiing.”
“Dangerous?”
“Not at all,” Beck lied. There had been a couple of hairy traverses this morning, but he was here in one piece, wasn’t he? What was the point of upsetting her?
“Liar.”
Beck smiled and took a sip of his beer. Since meeting Amy in Thailand, she’d been his closest friend. He was reasonably sociable but the reserve he cultivated meant that he didn’t have many close friends. Amy had ignored his “keep out” signs and had barged her way into his life. He’d flown to Hanoi after saying goodbye to Cady in Bangkok and Amy had immediately sensed that he was hurting. She’d plastered herself to his side and traveled with him as he hauled his dented heart over the soil of various Southeast Asian countries.
You couldn’t BS a person who’d witnessed your heart bleed.
Amy had been a kind and consistent presence, a true friend. And because of her sexual orientation, they’d never complicated their friendship with sex. He and Amy had quit traveling at the same time and he’d joined Ballantyne International, knowing that it was time to put his MBA to work. Amy had needed a job and he’d arranged for her to do some temporary secretarial work at Ballantyne International. Within three months, she’d made herself indispensable, not only to him, but also to his ex-guardian and uncle, Connor Ballantyne. Amy, irreverent and hip but brutally efficient, became Connor’s eyes, ears and right hand and she’d been devastated when Connor was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
It was Amy who’d made all the arrangements to transport Jaeger back home when he was involved in that car accident in Italy, and Amy who’d held Beckett’s hand at his brother’s hospital bed and at his uncle’s funeral.
“So, what’s happening at work?” Beckett asked her, tapping his finger against the neck of his cold beer bottle.
“The usual. I sent out the briefs to various PR firms today to bid for the rebranding strategy.”
A small frown appeared between Beck’s eyes. “Which firms did you send the brief to?”
Amy named a few firms Beck was familiar with and he nodded his approval. “Linc instructed me to send them to smaller firms, too, ones that think outside the box,” Amy added.
“Hard to find.”
“Jules had a suggestion or two.”
“Who?”
Amy shrugged. “You wouldn’t know them.”
Beck couldn’t identify the emotion flashing in Amy’s eyes and he frowned at her uncharacteristic reticence.
“Well, let’s see what they come up with. Email me their bid documents and I can go through them.”
Amy shook her head. “Linc told me that that he’ll run through them and pick the top four to do detailed presentations. You’ll be back for their presentations, so you can weigh in then.”
Amy had her stubborn face on and he knew he’d lost this round. To be honest, he really didn’t want to plow through the bid documents. It was tedious work and if Linc wanted to do it, he’d let him.
“Listen, Beck...”
Amy bit the inside of her lip and Beck knew she was about to say something he didn’t want to hear. Worse, she had the same look on her face when every year or so she suggested that he track down Cady, that he see where she was and what she was doing. That he find a real connection, like the one she and Julia had.
And every year he told her he wasn’t interested, that he was perfectly happy as he was. Well, not happy, but content.
“Guess who I saw today?” Amy asked before he could tell her not to go there.
Beck tensed. He didn’t need her to say the name; he heard it in her voice. “Where?”
“At Bonnets, a cocktail bar off—”
“I know it.” Beck felt hot then cold. He stared down at the patterned comforter, the blue-and-white pattern rising and falling.
He forced his tongue to move. “New York is in so many ways a small town. Listen, I have to go.”
“No, you don’t. You’re just trying to avoid talking about Cady. I need to tell you—”
“Bye, Ames, I’ll talk to you soon.” Beck slapped his laptop shut on her annoyed squeal.
He ran his hand through his wavy hair and flipped the laptop open again. He quickly accessed a file, opening the one photo he’d kept of her. She was lying on the sand at Maya Bay on Phi Phi island, her bright pink bikini a blaze of triangles against her tanned skin. She’d turned her head to look at him and her long and silky hair dropped into the sand. Her startling eyes brimmed with laughter. And love.
They’d been apart for nearly ten years and would be apart for a lifetime more. He knew that, accepted that. That was why he never thought about her, said her name, discussed those first few months of his trip. They were completely, solidly over. So why was he looking at a photo of her, wishing that things had turned out differently?
Because he wasn’t busy and he had time to think. And to remember.
But mostly because he was, despite his high IQ, a moron.
Two
Beck exited the private elevator that only he, his siblings and Amy had access to and stepped into the corridor of Ballantyne International. The corporate offices were situated above their flagship, and oldest, jewelry store on Fifth Avenue. Unlike the classic decor of the store below, the Ballantyne offices were light, airy and modern. Beck, as director of finance and the group’s troubleshooter, saw an intern walking down the hall to the copy room and struggled to remember his name.
“Cole, Cody...”
The kid turned and offered a tentative smile. “Charles, sir.”
He had the C right and he was only in his early thirties, far too young to be called sir. Beck shrugged out of his leather jacket and laid it across the top of his suitcase and pushed the bag in the intern’s direction. “Put this in Amy’s office and bring me a very large cup of coffee. I’ll be in Linc’s office until further notice.”
“Mr. Ballantyne—Linc—is in the boardroom with the other Mr. Ballantyne and Ms. Ballantyne.”
Beck nodded, holding back his smile at the mouthful of Bs. “Thanks.” He turned and headed in the opposite direction, greeting the odd person he encountered on his way. Monday morning and thanks to his flight being diverted to Newark because of an anticipated emergency landing at La Guardia, he was late. He’d picked the least aggressive cab driver in the city and his trip from New Jersey had taken forever. He hated being late.
Beck opened the door to the conference room and pushed his shirtsleeves up his elbows. As Charles said, his siblings were all in the room, but Amy wasn’t.
“Driven is back,” Jaeger stated, leaning back in his chair.
Jaeger had given him the nickname shortly after his thirteenth birthday when he graduated at the top of his class and made both the state swimming and track teams. They thought that he was an outlier, one of those kids who was gifted in both sports and academics. They never suspected that he’d always felt the need to prove himself worthy of being born a Ballantyne.