“Geneva. How long has it been?”

What game was he playing? “You know as well as I do how long.”

Michael looked steady and thoughtful, but that didn’t fool her. His jaw muscle tightening was a clue.

“Oh, you mean the wedding,” he said. “The one where you left me at the altar.”

She winced. How simple he made it sound. But it hadn’t been simple, and seeing him again dredged up all the painful feelings that had compelled her to leave him that day.

Oh, he’d been willing to go through with the wedding—because he’d given his word. But Geneva had wanted more than just willing. She wanted love—the head-over-heels kind. The kind that could make a marriage work.

The kind this man couldn’t give her.

Winning Back his Bride
Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TERESA SOUTHWICK

is delighted to be living out her lifelong dream of writing for Silhouette Romance and Silhouette Special Edition. She lives in Las Vegas, where she’s hard at work on her next romance novel.

“Las Vegas is renowned as the wedding capital of the world, so when I decided to set this book here, I knew a wedding would figure prominently. And what if that wedding was one that didn’t happen? This was the core idea behind this book. I live in Las Vegas, and find it really is the most exciting city on the planet.”

To Stacy Boyd,

an editor with the perfect blend of

efficiency, creativity and support.

You’re the best!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

PICTURE him naked.

Geneva Porter was familiar with the technique public speakers used to calm nerves, but it wouldn’t work for her. This wasn’t public. She wasn’t speaking. And she’d already seen Michael Sullivan naked.

However hot the memory, seeing the sexy Mr. Sullivan without his clothes was partially responsible for the disastrous series of events that had landed her right here, right now—waiting to see him and find out if she was Las Vegas’s latest events planner without a job.

Unemployment would be bad. Seeing Michael Sullivan again… It was going to be very bad.

But he was her boss as of a week ago when his deal to buy this hotel finalized. One by one he’d met with the existing managers. Now it was her turn. Time to get it over with and brazen out their first meeting since… Well, since she’d last seen him. On the bad scale, that time had been off the chart.

Taking a deep breath wouldn’t help but she took one anyway as she knocked sharply on his door and let herself in. It was a spacious corner office with two sets of floor-to-ceiling windows, giving him two different and fabulous views of the Las Vegas Strip, Bellagio on one side, Caesar’s Palace on the other. Michael was sitting behind his desk oozing power and charisma.

“Hello, Michael.” One look into his dark eyes dropped her stomach like the Insanity ride on top of the Stratosphere. Her heart pounded and her hands shook. “You look great.”

How stupid did that sound? This was worse than bad.

She’d met him over a year ago when he’d started the process of buying this property. He hadn’t changed a bit. He looked just as handsome, with his dark hair and a face that was all lean angles. But it was his smile that she’d fallen in love with and she wasn’t seeing it now.

“Geneva.” His eyes narrowed and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “How long has it been?”

What game was he playing? “You know as well as I do how long.”

He looked steady and thoughtful but that didn’t fool her. The jaw muscle tightening again was a clue.

“Oh. You mean the wedding,” he said.

“Of course that’s what I mean.”

“The one where you left me at the altar.”

She winced. How simple he made it sound. How easily he said the words. But it hadn’t been simple or easy and seeing him again dredged up all the painful feelings that had compelled her to leave him that day. She feared making a mistake, a mistake too much like her parents had made by marrying each other. Feared that Michael had never loved her, that he’d proposed only because she’d been pregnant with his child, a baby she’d miscarried in the first trimester.

He’d been willing to go through with the wedding—because he’d given his word. But, Geneva wanted more than just willing. She wanted love—the head-over-heels kind. The only kind that could fill the emptiness in her soul for the baby she’d lost. The only kind that would make a marriage work.

Brushing nonexistent lint from the skirt of her black suit, she said, “About the wedding—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “That’s not why I called you in.”

“But it’s why you’re going to fire me.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Why would I do that?”

She badly wanted to say “duh.” Instead she put as much sass as possible into the look she shot him. “Maybe because I left you at the altar?”

“That was a year ago.”

As if she didn’t know. “So you’re over it?”

“Of course.”

Of course? Just like that? So now she had new and different feelings yet to be identified. She didn’t want him to brood over her. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him in the first place. But he was dismissing her like an afterthought. She should be relieved. If she worked hard enough, maybe she could pull it off.

“Good,” she said, nodding. “I guess that explains why you went ahead with the hotel deal.”

“It’s business,” he snapped.

“It’s Vegas,” she countered. “Mergers and acquisitions are announced every other week. A gazillion things have to fall into place before anyone signs on the dotted line. Deals fall apart all the time.”

“You thought I’d back out because of you?” he asked. His voice could’ve frozen a glass of water in the middle of July.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier?”

“I don’t take the easy way out.” His gaze locked on hers and clearly said—not like some people. “And I’m getting the feeling you don’t want to work for me.”

Probably because she didn’t. Not if she had to see him regularly. “I don’t have a choice. It’s called a contract. Although as the new owner of this hotel, you can terminate it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re angry and want revenge. What happened between us was very public and—”

“Very over,” he interrupted. “It didn’t change my mind about the deal. I wanted this hotel for the adjacent land.”

And he’d only wanted her for the baby. That still hurt deeply. “I see.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you wondering if I still have personal feelings for you?”

“I’m wondering if your personal feelings are about getting even with me,” she said, putting a finer point on it.

“I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I’m not a turn-the-other-cheek kind of guy.”

No. He was a man-of-action kind of guy. They’d barely been introduced when he swept her off her feet. After all this time apart, just a few minutes with him showed her she was still vulnerable to the Michael Sullivan brand of charm. And he wasn’t being charming.

Still standing in front of his desk, she squared her shoulders and linked her fingers together, refusing to let him see that her hands were shaking. “Did you call me in to ask for my resignation?”

“I called you in because you’re the hotel events planner.” Something dangerous flared in his eyes. “I want you to plan an event.” He held out his hand, indicating the chairs in front of his desk. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Did she have a choice? She needed this job. She had a year left on her contract. If she walked, he could sue her for breach of contract and she had no doubt he would—because he wasn’t a turn-the-other-cheek kind of guy. Defending herself against a lawsuit could get expensive and ruin the professional reputation she’d been working so hard to build in Las Vegas. On top of that, she’d refinanced her condo and borrowed against the equity to pay Michael back for the wedding.

“Okay.” Since she couldn’t walk out, she sat.

“As you know, I have real estate and hotels in the east, and this is my second hotel in Las Vegas.”

“Yes.”

He folded his hands and rested them on his glass and chrome desk as he leaned forward. “I’m planning a luxury high-rise on the land that adjoins this hotel. It’s a fairly new concept to Las Vegas and will give the Vegas Valley its vertical identity. The tallest residential super tower west of the Mississippi will also make this a flagship property for the upscale Sullivan brand’s global footprint.”

“Very ambitious.”

“I’m an ambitious man. This is the only city in the world that reinvents itself every day. And now it’s my city with all its possibilities—and risks.”

She knew all about risk. She’d found out she wasn’t a risk-taker but that hadn’t saved her from regrets. With an effort, she pulled her thoughts back to what he was saying.

Dark intensity sizzled in his eyes. “It’s a good location, with spectacular views of the lights on The Strip and close to downtown restaurants, shows and high-end shopping.”

“Sounds like New York west.”

“That’s the plan. But we need to hit the ground running at the grand opening.”

“Did you have any thoughts about what tone you want to set at the sales release?” She was the planner, but it was his event.

He nodded. “Glitzy, in a three-ring circus kind of way. The biggest dog and pony show you can possibly pull off.”

“I can pull off whatever you want.”

He didn’t respond, but the muscle in his jaw jerked, and she wondered if he was thinking about the day she’d walked away. She shouldn’t still care what he thought, but he was her boss and all she had was her job. So she’d best start doing it and focus on the here and now instead of on the past.

She sat up straighter and met his gaze. “Glitz would include Hollywood A-listers. Entertainment personalities with a lot of money to spend and wealthy noncelebrities. It should be invitation only, and we send them out to everyone you know or ever hope to know.”

“You’re the expert.”

Did he really think that? Or was he setting her up for a fall? “Then I’ll brainstorm some promotion and giveaway ideas. Nothing brings people out like a spectacle and freebies. Did you have a theme in mind?” she asked.

“Again, that’s your field of expertise.”

“Sullivan Towers, the sky’s the limit,” she said off the top of her head. “Or ‘Living the High Life.’”

“Not bad.” His dark eyes gleamed with reluctant approval.

Geneva felt the power of that unwilling positive reaction deep down inside, pressing against a place she’d closed off a year ago. It was a Pandora’s box of feelings: messy, confusing, disturbing and embarrassing.

Yes, she’d called off the wedding. Her mistake had been in waiting until just before saying “I do.” But until that moment, she’d tried to convince herself that Michael actually loved her. If she’d gone through with the ceremony knowing he didn’t, she’d have been destroyed. And so would he. But he’d never given her the chance to explain that she’d done him a favor.

“So are we finished?” she asked.

“For now.”

Very bad didn’t begin to describe this meeting. And he would know how she felt unless she got out of here now.

“I’ll work up a proposal.” She stood. “But before I get started, Michael, I need an answer to my question.”

“Which one?” he asked, standing too.

She looked way up at him, six feet of solid muscle and sophisticated suave sex appeal. Her insides quivered with memories of the short time he’d been hers. Then the memories became a fist squeezing her heart, making it difficult to draw in air.

“Do you intend to terminate my contract because of what happened between us?”

He settled his hands on lean hips. “Didn’t we just have a meeting about an event I expect you to plan?”

“I got that. But are you going to change your mind? We’ll have to work closely together and I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t work with me at all.” If he simply let her out of her contract, it would be the clean break she needed to avoid this emotional free-for-all and maintain her professional reputation.

“That would imply I hadn’t forgiven you.”

“Have you?”

Michael folded his arms over his impressive chest and smiled his pretty smile, the one that always crumbled her defenses like stick houses in a stiff breeze. “I always say—forgive your enemies. It messes with their heads.”

That was nothing new. For the last year thoughts of him had messed with her head even when she hadn’t seen him. Now he was back in her life and that meant he could mess with her heart unless she figured out a way to Michael-proof it.

“Geneva. I need—”

Need? The word stopped Michael. He didn’t need, not from her. He wouldn’t let himself need anything from her. At least not personally. Professional needs were different.

“We have to talk.”

Michael watched her back stiffen and braced himself. He thought he’d done that a week ago, before seeing her again. He’d thought he’d been prepared for eyes so big, so green he could fall into them. For the thick, shiny brown hair that made him want to bury his fingers in the silken strands. For the deep dimples that could drop a man to his knees when she smiled and the body that could tempt him to throw caution to the wind.

He’d thought wrong.

It had been a year, for God’s sake, and when she’d walked into his office he’d wanted to terminate her contract on the spot. The problem was, he was still putting together the project’s financing. His past with Geneva was no secret, and firing her could be a disaster. Perception was everything. If he couldn’t handle having an old girlfriend around, how was he going to deal with the stress of a billion-dollar development?

Or worse, it could look like he was reacting emotionally, which would fuel rumors that he couldn’t manage the company with a steady hand and a clear head. None of it was a big deal, but he’d seen the stock market rise and fall on less. Any hint of weakness could be enough to trigger investor doubt. Without investors, the project would be dead in the water.

That was unacceptable. He was stuck with her, and he’d realized it when he’d decided to go forward with the deal. But he’d had a year to prepare himself. It should have been enough.

He’d expected to feel nothing and hadn’t been ready for the grinding knot of need at his first glimpse of Geneva. He wouldn’t make the same mistake.

He’d deliberately waited a week to see her again, giving her time to squirm and wonder what he was up to. The meeting of his operations team had just ended. He hadn’t missed the fact that Geneva sat in the chair closest to the door—and farthest from him.

So what else was new? She’d left him at the altar. Like an idiot, he’d actually thought about going after her. Before making a fool of himself he realized there was nothing to talk about. She’d said she couldn’t marry him. End of story.

As she walked toward him now, his gaze settled on her mouth and a jolt of awareness arced through him. End of attraction? Not so much.

She stopped two feet away from him, at the head of the long, mahogany conference table. “Yes?”

“Something’s come up,” he said.

“Don’t tell me. You changed your mind.”

“About?”

“Firing me.” She lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder at the group of executives milling around talking. Then she met his gaze again. “You wanted more witnesses when you made the announcement.”

“And why would I want that?” He was irritated when he caught himself staring at her mouth again.

“An eye for an eye.”

“You still think I’m after revenge.”

“A natural assumption considering you once told me your philosophy. And not the one about forgiving your enemies.”

She shrugged and tried to look as if she didn’t give a damn. It didn’t work. One of the things he’d instantly liked about her was that everything she was thinking showed on her face. She couldn’t hide what she was feeling. Then she’d proven him wrong by blindsiding him the day he’d planned to make her his. And it had been very public. Especially for a man who didn’t like getting blindsided at all.

The day she’d left him at the altar had been the second worst day of his life. It was only topped by the day he’d found out his parents were killed in a plane crash.

He forced the thoughts away and struggled to focus. “I have another philosophy?”

“Don’t get mad. Get even,” she reminded him. “And stay on top.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “That one.”

Getting mad didn’t help. He’d tried that first. He’d also considered backing out of the hotel deal after she’d backed out of their wedding. But he refused to let her win. He also couldn’t fire her. Getting even? The thought held some appeal.

“So am I canned?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked guardedly.

“Teri is getting married.”

“Please convey my congratulations to your sister.”

“You can do it yourself. You’re going to plan the engagement party and wedding.”

She stared at him for several moments. “Isn’t this where you say ‘gotcha?’”

“I couldn’t be more serious.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Your sister could elevate grudge-holding to an art form. The Teri Sullivan I know would take her vows at city hall and meet at Fat-burger for the reception before letting the same woman who left her brother at the altar plan her wedding.”

“Maybe. But Teri still wants you.”

Struggling for indifference, Michael slid his hands into his pockets. How the hell could he still want her after all this time? After what she’d done? But he knew. He’d never quite been able to stop wanting her. Or stop missing the feel of her in his arms at night. And he was having trouble getting the “hands off” message from his brain to the appropriate body parts. At least he could explain that. It was a purely physical reaction to a strikingly beautiful woman.

Everything else was more complicated. He’d told himself it was just business, but two meetings with Geneva had shown him that seeing her every day would be an unexpected complication. He didn’t like complications.

But sometimes to get the job done you had to piss people off, even if that person was yourself. Success didn’t come without a price and he was determined that the cost wouldn’t be more than he could pay.

Geneva shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“My sister’s a team player.”

Questions simmered in her eyes. “And, pray tell, why is her wedding a team event?”

“Let’s call it one part of the marketing strategy. A celebrity wedding will generate media attention and get the word out to our target buyer. I paid the idea guys a lot of money for their expertise and it would take a special kind of stupid to ignore them.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Michael?”

If he didn’t know better, he’d think that was concern in her eyes. But he did know better. “I need to secure the rest of the financing for Sullivan Towers. We have enough to break ground and build a shell, but not to finish. That would make it a very public failure. Been there. Done that. Don’t want to go there again.”

She caught the corner of her top lip between her teeth. “If you’re talking about the wedding, I had reasons for calling it off—”

“It’s not about you.” He wouldn’t let it be. And he didn’t want to hear her excuses now any more than he had then. Her actions had told him everything he needed to know. “That’s ancient history.”

“But it was my public failure, not yours.”

“Yes, and your failure will help me get my financing. The press will dig into everything about Teri and me and you. They write about everything we Sullivans do and the public reads it.”

“I remember,” she said.

“The only thing that generates more publicity than a high profile wedding is one that doesn’t happen.” Their fiasco had fueled a reporter feeding frenzy. “The day you walked out we were the lead story on the news, beating out the president’s summit on the global economy.”

“Yeah. For months afterward they hounded me for a comment.”

Which she’d stubbornly declined to make. He respected her discretion even though he didn’t want to respect anything about her. “I got the same treatment. So imagine a Sullivan business venture combined with a Sullivan wedding… Picture the headlines—millionaire developer gains luxury high-rise and loses sister to matrimony. Wedding to be planned by his runaway bride. The perfect storm of publicity.”

“I see your point,” she said.

“I thought you would.”

“But I can’t do it.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts.

He couldn’t stop himself from noticing the interesting things the movement did to her curves and memories of soft skin and twisted sheets jumped into his mind. He forced himself to look away. When he glanced around the room, he saw that it was empty except for him and Geneva. Where had everyone gone? More to the point—when had they gone and why hadn’t he noticed? Damn it.

Clearly she didn’t want to be here. Tough. He didn’t want to be here, either, let alone asking her to do anything more than her job required. But he and Teri were determined to make Sullivan Towers a success and that meant doing the hard stuff.

His sister had no qualms about working with Geneva. Her reservations had been for him. But he’d assured her that he had no leftover feelings. It had been a year and Geneva didn’t matter. If they could use public failure and turn it into a success, he’d lead the way.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Michael. I just don’t want to cause you problems.”

“That’s ironic coming from you,” he snapped.

Something flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t respond.

“Teri is the only family I have left. If you choose to believe anything, believe this—I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”

He’d been eighteen and Teri just ten when their parents died. But they’d pulled together and moved forward. And that’s the way they would make this project an unqualified success.

Geneva worried her lip between her teeth as she studied him. “Michael, clearly this has been in the works for a while. Why didn’t you mention this to me that day in your office?”

He shrugged. “I had other things on my mind.”

No way would he tell her that seeing her again and acting as if he felt nothing had taken all of his concentration. Everything else had slipped his mind.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “The bottom line is that I need to presell forty percent of the high-rise units to secure the last of the financing before we break ground. We’ll leave no stone unturned and take advantage of the press, publicity and media exposure wherever we can find it. You’re part of that whether you like it or not.”

“And if I refuse you’ll fire me?”

“That’s not the kind of publicity I’m after.” Was she hoping he’d let her go? Put distance between them? Bailing out was what she did best, but he wouldn’t let her get away with it this time. The project was the highest profile development he’d ever done and he was dedicating it to his parents. He’d do whatever was necessary to make it happen, including using her. “Look at it this way. You owe me, Geneva.”

She stared at him for several moments, doubts swirling in her eyes. The uncertainty was still there when she nodded and said, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Maybe there really is something I can do to help you get what you want and make up for what I did. I’m willing to take a chance. Because, God knows you have your faults, Michael. A good many of them. As do I. But you’d never do anything to hurt your sister. Not even for business.”

That was true. If Teri had the slightest doubt about this aspect of the marketing plan, he’d find another angle for the media attention.

“Then we have a deal.”

“We do. And for now I’ll assume you’re not trying to lull me into a false sense of security, then—” She drew her hand across her neck, miming slitting her throat.

Get her? A shaft of heat lasered through him and again he did his best to ignore it. He straightened and looked down at her. “To still be angry enough to get even with you over what happened a year ago requires a great deal of energy and passion. I’ve focused both on opening Sullivan Towers.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“Good.” And speaking of passion, it was time to put his back to work before he forgot to forget and remembered to remember everything about her. He walked toward the door and said, “I’ll be in touch.”

Touch.

Like the exquisite sensation of her bare skin beneath his hands, her lips responding to his own. Those memories gave a whole new meaning to the words I’ll be in touch.

His intense reaction irritated the hell out of him. He didn’t want to want her, but that made no difference to his testosterone. And with so much at stake, he couldn’t afford any weakness.

He didn’t have to like the idea of working with her, but he wouldn’t let her become a distraction. Since he didn’t have a choice, he’d make the most of a bad situation. He’d make sure his sister had the best and if that meant hiring Geneva as the wedding planner and watching her every step of the way, he’d do it. That would never make up for Teri not having her father and mother there to give her away, but Michael intended to create a wedding day she would never forget. And he wasn’t above using the situation to his advantage. Since a year without Geneva hadn’t taken the edge off his attraction, perhaps overexposure would do the trick. Might be just what he needed to get her out of his system.

The best part was that she wouldn’t like it.

CHAPTER TWO

“HI, TERI.” Geneva cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, then swiveled her office chair around to look out the window. “Thanks for calling me back.”

She still couldn’t believe she’d actually agreed to plan this wedding. Although agreed was stretching reality. She’d been backed into a corner—damned if she did, damned if she didn’t. Refusing would have the same results as walking out—breach of contract and goodbye career. Still, Michael had all but said this would help him and somehow that made it different. The man she remembered hadn’t needed her. Which made her wonder if Michael had something up his sleeve besides a very muscular arm.

“Your message said you wanted to discuss wedding plans.” Teri Sullivan’s voice was cool, but that was to be expected.

Michael’s sister was a beautiful brunette, tall, slim, dark-eyed. Her fiancé, Geneva had learned, was Michael’s best friend Dexter Smith, a good-looking geek and chief numbers cruncher for Sullivan, Inc. They’d looked especially spectacular a year ago in their maid of honor and best man ensembles. And both of them loved Michael. Working with them wouldn’t be easy. Which might be what Michael wanted. Whoever said payback was a bitch hadn’t exaggerated.

Geneva let out a long breath. “I wanted to talk to you because we have to start making decisions.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, you should be shopping for a dress. I can recommend some designers who will bring sketches to you.”

“That would be great.”

“Next on the list would be the location. We need to find a place you love that can also accommodate your guest list.”

Big sigh on the other end of the phone. “I don’t have time for that.”

Teri worked with Dex in the financial end of the corporation and chances were good that the two were deeply involved in securing the necessary funding for Sullivan Towers.

“If you’d like, I can look and gather information, then report back to you.”

“Again, great.”

“Okay. Good. I’ll take care of all the details. I want to assure you that the wedding will be perfect.”

“I have no doubt.” There was steel and sarcasm in her voice. “You owe Michael.”

He’d told Geneva the same thing. And he was right. “I’m aware of the debt.”

“I’m not talking financially,” Teri added. “Dex told me about the check you sent to reimburse my brother for the wedding costs. What’s that about?”

“It was the right thing.” Michael knew all about doing the right thing. She swiveled around, saw Michael standing in the doorway and dropped the phone. “Good grief.”

“What’s the right thing?” he asked.

“That would be you wearing a bell around your neck,” she said as she repositioned the receiver.

“For the wedding?” Teri sounded surprised.

“No. The fashion police would be all over that. I was talking to your brother. He sneaked up on me.”

And it was becoming an annoying habit. Every day he dropped in and lounged in her doorway—early morning, just before quitting time, or, like now, lunchtime when her assistant Chloe was out of the office. Probably just as well. Chloe thought Geneva needed therapy for dumping such a hottie. Geneva agreed that she needed her head examined. The childhood from hell tended to do that to a girl.

“Tell him hi for me.” Teri’s tone was noticeably warmer and it was hard to tell whether that was about what she’d learned from Dex or for her brother.

“Teri says hi.” She watched him nod, then forced herself to ignore him, which wasn’t easy, what with her pulse going a mile a minute. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll do some research on chapels, then get back to you.”

“Okay. Gotta go.”

“Bye,” she said as the line went dead, and wished she could say the same for her hormones. But they had a mind of their own and disobeyed orders every time she saw Michael. How she wished he would stay away.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

It was better phrasing than, “What the heck are you doing here,” which had been on the tip of her tongue.

He held up a bag. “I brought you a sandwich.”

“Why?” That sounded suspicious and ungrateful, but from her point of view perfectly appropriate.

“Because it’s time for lunch.”

Why didn’t he just go away and quit bugging her? “How do you know I don’t have a stash of candy in my desk drawer?”

He let his gaze wander over her bare arms and settle on her breasts. If she wasn’t sitting at her desk she just knew he’d have dragged that look all the way to her ankles and toes. The thought made her shiver.

“I don’t think so.” He scanned her desk, searching for a spot to set the bag. “Where do you want this?”

Geneva’s workspace was always cluttered. If anything was put away, she couldn’t find what she needed when she needed it. Her desk was teak and glass, although she couldn’t prove it at the moment. But she knew it was there somewhere.

She eyed the bag suspiciously. “If it’s going to blow up, you can chuck it down the hallway.”

“Turkey and tomato isn’t explosive.” He stared down at her, his expression infuriatingly unreadable. “You have to let the whole retaliation thing go.”

“No, I don’t.” She moved a stack of papers and he set down the bag. “I can hang onto my paranoia just as long as I want.”

Retribution could come at any time, in any form. Like just before Sullivan Towers grand opening where she could publicly take the blame if the event tanked. That would seriously undermine her reputation and in her line of work that was everything. But so far, Michael only showed up in her office every day, just long enough to stir her up. Advance and retreat. To her that spelled guerrilla warfare. Only, instead of camouflage, he wore gray slacks, a white shirt and a pewter and black striped tie. As commandos went, he sure knew how to dress.

“Paranoia it is then.” He stared at her desk, probably looking for an uncluttered place to lean against.

For once Geneva was grateful to her inner slob. It kept him out of her space and set up a perimeter. “Thanks for the sandwich,” she said, trying to be gracious.

“You’re welcome.” He sat in one of the chrome and tweed upholstered chairs in front of her. “So, you were talking to Teri. How are the wedding plans coming?”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “You know.”

“Actually I don’t know.”

She leaned back in her chair and studied his face, but his expression was hooded. “There’s not much to tell. Everything is preliminary at the moment.”

He rested his elbows on his knees and linked his fingers. “Tell me about the preliminaries.”

“It’s all very vague. I’ve got threads here and there. When I pull them into some kind of cohesive plan, I’d be happy to update you.”

“Actually I’m not asking for a favor. It’s your job to keep me informed every step of the way.”

She stared at him. “Define every step.”

What he was proposing would mean seeing him a lot more than she’d thought. After leaving her wedding, she’d kept two phones and a pager at her fingertips in case he wanted to talk to her. She’d waited and hoped for the opportunity to explain, but he’d never contacted her. He’d just let her go. She’d thought he would fight harder, but he hadn’t fought for her at all. Now he wanted to be joined at the hip?

His gaze captured hers. “Every step means every single decision. If you pick out flowers, I want to know what color the pistils are.”

“You’re micromanaging.”

“You bet I am.” His voice lowered dangerously. “Everything is going to get media attention. It’s got to be perfect. Millions of dollars are riding on it. I’ve got a lot at stake and I need to know I can depend on you.”

The look in his eyes, the tone in his voice, both added up to one thing and it wasn’t about bugging her or retribution. It was so much worse. “You don’t trust me.”

“Based on your behavior, give me one good reason why I should.”

“That was personal,” she said. “This is business.”

“Most people don’t check their character at the door when they come to work.”

She leaned forward and rested her arms on her desk. “You really think I’d walk out and leave you in the lurch?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Okay, that had been a bad way to phrase it. “I’m good at my job,” she defended.

“You wouldn’t be here otherwise. But you can’t do it if you’re not here.”

She was stunned that he believed her capable of walking out on her work. “If you think that, why didn’t you simply terminate my contract?”

“Believe me, if I could have you’d be gone. But that would cause media attention, too.”

She struggled for composure as emotions zinged through her. She’d sort them out later. “Isn’t publicity what you’re after?”

“Not that kind. You’re a high-profile employee and we have a past. Making a change like that would spook the investors. I can’t afford to make any move that could be construed as a chink in my armor. The money guys want to see strong, steady leadership and that’s what they’ll get.”

Anger smoldered in his eyes and told her he wasn’t over their past, in spite of what he’d said. But his showing up every day wasn’t about seeing her. He was keeping an eye on her.

Geneva really didn’t want to be any more involved with him than she already was. Especially with another wedding-related event. She’d made her choices; she had her regrets. She didn’t need more of his presence than she already had. But this was another choice out of her hands.

“All right, Michael. I’ll be sure to keep you informed about everything from tablecloth thread count to font size on the invitations.”

“Then we’re clear.”

“Crystal.”

Silly her for the tiniest little hope that his dropping by every day was a good thing. She hadn’t even realized the hope was there until he’d crushed it under his cold, calculated mistrust. However much she didn’t want to be fair, she had to admit he had his reasons. He might not mean this as retribution, but the result was effective. She was good at what she did. Her job was the only part of her life she trusted. And he’d just taken that away.

Michael pressed the call button on the elevator, then turned to survey the lobby while he waited. The marble floors were tough enough to withstand foot traffic, yet elegant. Several crystal chandeliers winked down on the leather love seats and chairs. Graceful cherry wood tables topped with fresh flowers were cleverly arranged around the large area. It was a place he would be proud to put his parents’ names on at the Towers dedication.

Then, breezing through the revolving lobby door, he saw Geneva. The woman who’d refused the Sullivan name.

She smiled at someone and Michael felt a pull in his gut—the same tight, tensing of muscles he’d felt the very first time he’d seen her and knew he had to have her. Her smile could drop a man’s IQ into the idiot range and he’d been no exception. Her sleeveless white dress caressed every luscious curve of the body he’d once caressed, the body that had held and lost his child. He still carried that pain; he always would.

He was used to success; Geneva had been his first failure. He hadn’t asked for the attraction that had turned him inside out, but a lot of things happened in his life that he hadn’t asked for. He’d slipped up by letting her become important. He hadn’t gotten where he was by making the same mistake twice.

If only she wasn’t so damn beautiful. If only she hadn’t walked out. If only he didn’t still want her with the same intensity as the first time he’d seen her. But he was working on that. The success of the Towers had forced him into keeping her around, but he intended to use the situation to his advantage. They would spend time together and when the dust settled, he would feel nothing for her.

The elevator doors opened, then closed again when he didn’t step inside. He watched Geneva stop and study the three-dimensional display of his residential tower project.

He crossed the lobby and stood beside her. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Here I am,” she said, glancing up at him. “Are you checking up on me?”

“Do I need to?”

“Only you can answer that.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry. I forgot to inform you that it was a working lunch.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I was looking at chapels.”

“And?”

“I made an executive decision and ruled out the drive-through Elvis chapel, the Liberace Museum, a houseboat on Lake Mead, or the hot air balloon over the Strip.”

Her sarcasm let him know what she thought of his micromanaging. He had a momentary flicker of admiration for her sassiness, then shut it down. “Good decision. The balloon would certainly pose some logistical challenges.”

“No kidding. My fear of heights for one.”

When her full lips curved into a tight smile that unleashed her dimples, he felt the blood drain from his brain and head for points south. Then her words sank in.

“I didn’t know you were afraid of heights.”

“Yeah.” She shuddered. “Anyway, I still have a list of places to check out. When I narrow it down, I’ll let Teri know. And you, of course.”

“Good.”

She stared at him for several moments, before her gaze skittered away. “Well, lunch is over,” she said, then started across the lobby.

He fell into step beside her as she walked to the elevators and pushed the up button.

She glanced at him. “You said you were looking for me.”

He nodded and slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Teri told me about you repaying the wedding costs.”

She looked surprised. “You didn’t know?”

“Dex just told her. He’s the money guy and he holds a grudge.”

“Is he the only one?”

“If you’re asking whether or not I have feelings of resentment, the answer is no.”

A flat-out lie. He knew because of the satisfaction and enjoyment he felt at keeping her guessing. And other feelings? Definitely he had feelings—resentment, revenge, regret—topping the list.

Geneva watched him carefully, as if she were searching for a sign of his sincerity. “Good,” she said, nodding. “No hard feelings.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors whispered open. Geneva stepped inside and Michael joined her. What was it about being alone with this woman in an elevator that made him want to pull her into his arms? And why still this woman? At the moment, lust trumped revenge.

He could smell her perfume and remembered the scent that always made him want to taste the hollow just below her ear. It was a dangerous thought and not exactly the way this plan of his was supposed to work.

“Why did you pay me back for the wedding? It didn’t happen.”

“That’s why.”

“Meaning?” he asked, irritated.

She sighed. “It was my fault, Michael. I had doubts and they didn’t just surface the day of the ceremony. I should have called everything off before—” She stopped and caught her top lip between her teeth. “Before I did. Before we lost more than just the deposits.”

“I don’t need the money.”

“But I needed to pay it back.”

“So it’s about you?”

“If that’s the way you want to look at it. Yes, I didn’t go through with the ceremony. Yes, there were a lot of people who saw me not go through with it. Yes, the reporters pestered us mercilessly to find out why. Definitely I’m sorry I put you through all of the above. But no way would I let you foot the bill for my mistake and somehow use it against me.”

He was stunned that she’d believe such a thing. “Did I ever give you reason to think I would do that?”

“We weren’t together all that long, Michael. I don’t know if you would. However, I do know some people would.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter.” When her purse strap slid down her arm, she settled it more firmly on her shoulder. “The point is, I chose to stop the wedding. And there was fallout from the decision.”

“Decisions have a way of biting you in the ass.”

“Yeah. Decisions.” She met his gaze and hers was filled with the hurt she struggled to hide with anger. “And I’ll tell you how you’ll know I won’t walk out on my responsibilities to you. I mortgaged my condo to pay you back. I need the job. And I don’t turn my back on the hard stuff.”

“Neither do I.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“Not in so many words, but the implication is there.”

“I didn’t mean to imply anything. No one knows better than me that you do the right thing.” The elevator stopped on the floor housing the executive suites and she stepped out. “But sometimes, Michael, the right thing can be a mistake.”

He watched her walk away, puzzled by what she’d said. How could doing the right thing ever be a mistake?

Wasn’t he working with her for the good of the project? So far that decision was biting him in the ass. Doing the right thing was pushing his desire into the danger zone.

CHAPTER THREE

GENEVA grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, then stepped into the outer office where her assistant was typing up notes.

“Chloe?”

“Yes, boss?” Chloe Milton was a blue-eyed redhead with a freckle-splashed nose and sass to spare.

“I’m going to be out of the office this afternoon.”

“I got your note. Too bad you’re not playing hooky. Or, better yet, playing with fire.”

That only happened when Michael was around, Geneva thought. And he wouldn’t be. She planned to sneak out before he could drop in and demand to know if the chapels had pews, chairs or picnic tables.

She hadn’t seen him for a week, not since she’d told him doing the right thing can be a mistake. An army of psychiatrists would have a field day figuring out that remark. Michael Sullivan? He probably thought she was one Jimmy short of a pair of Choos and had steered clear of her, considering himself lucky that five minutes of humiliation had saved him a whole lifetime of weird. But the change in his daily visits made her uneasy.

“I put in a call to Melina St. George in New York,” she briefed her assistant. “I want to talk to her about doing the food for the grand opening of Sullivan Towers.”

“Isn’t she the chef who did that celebrity event in Santa Barbara?”

“That’s the one,” Geneva confirmed. “If she calls, let me know and I’ll get right back to her.”

“Will do, boss.”

“See you tomorrow. I won’t be back before you leave for the day.”

Blue eyes widened in surprise. “So your note only says you’re checking out chapels. I’m assuming you’re not looking for a religious experience?”

“Hardly.” Not since Michael. She sighed. It seemed all thoughts led back to him. Geneva wasn’t sure how to stop that. It had been so much easier when she didn’t have to see him at all.

“Who’s getting married?” Chloe asked. “Anyone I know?”

“Teri Sullivan.”

“She asked you to plan it?” Chloe couldn’t have looked more shocked if Geneva had stripped naked and jumped into Bellagio’s dancing water.

“Michael did the actual asking.”

“That’s diabolical.”

“Revenge has nothing to do with it,” Geneva countered.

“Who said anything about revenge?” Chloe stared skeptically. “But now that you mention it—what fantasyland are you living in? What other reason could he have?”

“I’m good at my job?” Geneva said wryly.

“That’s true. But revenge has got to be right up there at the top of his list.”

“We both know Michael could have let me go. Instead he put me in charge of two projects.” Geneva could do paranoia on her own and really didn’t need it reinforced.

“Payback can take many forms.” Chloe nodded sagely.

That had already occurred to Geneva, but she did owe Michael. She’d promised to do whatever she could to help him succeed and wouldn’t go back on her word. She’d show him that she wouldn’t let him down again.

“Bye, Chlo.”

Geneva stopped at the elevator and pushed the down button. She heard someone behind her and turned.

“Where are you off to?” Michael asked. “A working lunch?”

Damn. She’d almost made it. Did he have a homing device on her? “Actually I’m checking out more chapels.”

“Good. I’m glad I ran into you. I’ll come along.”

Was it technically running into her if he did it deliberately? Clearly he had an agenda, she just wasn’t sure what he had in mind. “Along?”

“I’d like some input. We can take the limo.”

Geneva hoped he wasn’t serious or it was going to be a very long afternoon. “Thanks anyway, Michael. But I need my car. I have things to do. Appointments,” she said vaguely.

“I’ll take you where you need to go.”

“I understand you want details. But I’m the wedding planner. I’m supposed to be doing the legwork.”

“The thing is, I like legwork,” he said, his gaze dropping to her hem.

Geneva resisted the urge to look down. She already knew her skirt was short, but now she wished it was a suit of armor.

“Michael, this is my job,” she insisted, looking up at him. “However much you feel the need to micro-manage, you must have more important things to do than weed out wedding chapels.”

“Nothing is more important than my sister.” His eyes darkened.

“You don’t need to supervise. I have nothing to report yet. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’ll do my best to make sure Teri has exactly what she wants,” Geneva assured him.

“There are some things she wants that you can’t do. Like the family touch.”

And she wasn’t family. She’d almost been a Sullivan. But almost only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades.

“This is important to me,” he said. “Teri doesn’t have her mother to help shop for her wedding dress. She doesn’t have her father to walk her down the aisle.”

“Teri has you.” Geneva hadn’t meant to say that, but the words popped out. Probably because Geneva felt a twinge of remorse for being so cynical. Michael was many things, but a jerk wasn’t one of them.

He’d been both mother and father to his sister and he’d done a fine job raising her when he was practically a boy himself. He was a good man. It would be so much easier if he wasn’t, if she could simply dislike him. But she couldn’t. And that was the biggest problem of all.

He looked down. “And I don’t want her to forget that I’ll always be there for her, especially on her wedding day.”

Geneva nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

That wasn’t a lie. Michael was always on her mind, whether she wanted him there or not. But she saw the shadows in his eyes for a split second and the expression tugged at her heart. This wasn’t about her.

The elevator dinged just before the doors opened. Michael looked at her. “Geneva, stop arguing and get in.”

She got in and a few minutes later was sitting beside him in the back of his limousine. The luxurious interior was leather, plush carpet and the spicy scent of Michael. As they pulled out from beneath the covered hotel entrance, tinted windows shielded them from the desert heat and curious stares, because limos in Vegas signaled a possible celebrity sighting.

Geneva glanced at Michael and knew there wasn’t anything to shield her from him. His showing up unexpectedly was probably part of his ongoing strategy to mess with her mind. How annoying that it was working.

She stole another glance and noticed he was casually dressed in a black knit shirt and khaki slacks. Another good look, although she doubted he had a bad one.

Then she thought about what he’d said. The words about family hung heavy in the air and she searched for something to break the tension.

“You know,” she started, “I don’t think you ever met my family.”

He frowned, thinking. “Now that you mention it… Why is that?”

“It’s a long story. Suffice it to say that if my parents had been at our wedding, my bombshell would have been just a footnote to their hostilities.”

“Oh?”

“Mom would have argued with Dad that her husband should walk me down the aisle and give me away.”

“Even though he’s your stepfather?”

“She’d have come up with a reason and dug her heels in. And Dad—” She shook her head. “If she said white, he’d say black.”

“Fight do they?”

“Like the Montagues and Capulets,” she agreed. In her own story the only casualty had been her heart, by her own hand. But it was still a tragic ending thanks to the baggage she carried, a by-product of her childhood. “I always thought it was ironic that they named me after a city in a country that prides itself on remaining neutral. The two of them can’t be in the same room and have a civil conversation. But it was worse when they were actually married.”

“How long ago did they divorce?”

“A long time. I was about ten,” she said, remembering the fear and uncertainty she’d felt, huddled in her room with her hands over her ears, trying to shut out the fighting, the nasty accusations and name-calling. She met his gaze, trying hard to hide the remembered pain. “But it was for the best. Things were ugly between the two of them for a very long time. And they kept trying to make it work because of me.”

“Is that what you meant when you said sometimes the right thing can be a mistake?”

Actually she’d meant Michael’s reason for going through with their wedding. But it would be best to let him think that she’d been talking about her parents.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “That’s what I meant.”

He studied her. “You never told me about growing up in a battle zone.”

“No?”

She frowned as she thought back. It was hard to believe she’d never mentioned her traumatic childhood. Then she remembered the combustible attraction she and Michael had shared. When they’d been in the same room, sparks flew. Everything about their affair had been red-hot and they’d been consumed only with each other. They’d done everything with their mouths except talk.

It was inevitable that the passion would burn out, that the embers would turn to ashes. If there’d been more than the baby holding them together, Michael wouldn’t have disappeared without a word. If the wedding had gone forward, they’d have ended up hating each other. Divorce wars would have been inevitable. That fate was part of what had scared her about marrying him.

She didn’t want to end up hating Michael. She also didn’t want to be attracted to him, but so far she hadn’t figured out how to make her attraction stop.

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