Kissing Her Enemy Page 2

  She was waiting for him to speak, and her ornery stance indicated she was ready for a fight.

  He didn’t want to fight with Amber. Well, not in the usual way, although he could see them enjoying a different kind of tussle between the sheets—dang, why are my thoughts headed that way? Severing his carnal imaginings, he gestured to the Chesterfield couch on the other side of his office. Instinct told him to avoid them sitting on opposite sides of his desk. Better for this encounter to be friendly rather than adversarial.

  “Why don’t we take a seat?” Logan said. Amber hesitated for a moment before allowing him to usher her toward the Chesterfield. “Would you like something to drink? I can ask Pablo to make us some coffee.”

  “No, thanks.” She shot him an annoyed look as she dropped onto the couch, clearly unappreciative of his amiable mood. “I’m not here for a friendly chat.”

  She crossed her legs, her tight jeans once again drawing his attention to her curvy hips and rounded thighs. A small tear in the denim three inches above her knee revealed a soft mound of honey-colored flesh, and a spark of heat lit up in him, taking him by surprise. He pulled his gaze away from her legs, but then found himself in deeper trouble when he caught sight of her skimpy white T-shirt.

  “Uh…” He forced himself to look her in the eye, struggling to string together a coherent sentence out of his overheated brain. “How long have you been running Bennett’s?”

  “I’ve been working there for more than five years, and owned it for two.”

  Bennett’s Home Center had been around for as long as Logan could remember, enduring through good times and bad.

  “The local economy hasn’t been great,” he said. “I imagine it’s been tough running a small business lately.”

  It wasn’t easy for bigger businesses, either. Wright Inc, the family-operated private holding company, owned several medium- to large-size enterprises, and none of them had been immune to the economic downturn. In fact, when he’d taken over as CEO, he’d been shocked at the trouble his family business was in. But none of that was common knowledge, even though he’d had to close a number of businesses and lay off workers.

  Instantly, Amber’s chin went up again. “I’ve done all right. More than all right, in fact. I’ve increased turnover, reduced costs, and hired more staff.”

  “I’m impressed. That can’t have been easy.”

  “I don’t need your compliments. I just want you to stay out of my business.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. That whole block is crying out for redevelopment. You know that warehouse behind your store that covers half the block? It’s been sitting empty for years. I bought it last month. That just leaves the strip of stores that you and your neighbors occupy. Five properties in total, most of them run down and in need of renovation. It’s a crying shame to let that all go to waste. My plan is to knock everything down and start from scratch. Build a new hardware store and garden center. It’ll have the biggest selection and the best prices, everything for the home and garden under one roof.” He was starting to sound like a sales pitch, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d spent so much time planning this project. It would put Wright Inc back on a sound financial footing and provide plenty of new jobs. Never before had he been so personally involved in a business decision.

  Amber was clenching and unclenching her fists as if preparing herself for physical combat. “You—you can’t do that. Who are you to make these decisions anyway? Your father runs the company.”

  “Not anymore, he doesn’t. My dad retired six months ago and handed the reins over to me. I’m in charge now.”

  If only that were one hundred percent true. Having headed up the family business for almost thirty years, Blaine Wright was having a hard time letting go, despite his doctor’s recommendations he do so for the sake of his health. Logan might be CEO, but his father was still the majority shareholder and persisted in breathing over Logan’s shoulder. As for the mega center, at first Blaine had been utterly opposed, thinking it too risky and over-ambitious, but gradually Logan had won him over. Now Blaine was badgering him to get it done pronto. There was no middle ground when it came to his father.

  Logan could do without the interference. He was damn good at what he did, and the family company was facing dire times. His father still wouldn’t accept how close they’d come to bankruptcy, or that he was mostly responsible for that. Logan wasn’t interested in blaming anyone; he just wanted to turn their fortunes around and save his dad from stress. Once his superstore was up and running, profits would recover, and Blaine would relax and maybe even take that cruise he was always promising Logan’s mom. But Logan had to make sure everything went right. He couldn’t afford any slip ups.

  “Fine, then.” Amber jumped to her feet. “Since you’re in charge of this godawful project, I’m telling you my answer is no. N. O. I’m not selling to you or anyone else.”

  “Surely we can work something out?” He gave her his most winning smile, the one that never failed him.

  Instead of softening, she snorted. “Don’t try your tricks on me, Logan. It won’t work. I’m immune to your charm.”

  “You sure about that?”

  She pressed her lips together. “Definitely.” Her chin went up. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

  That got to him, a dig in his stomach. She thought he’d made a fool of her, but it wasn’t like that. And she’d made a fool of him, too. It hadn’t been one-sided.

  “Call me a gambler,” he drawled, “but I’m betting you’ll want to discuss this later when you’ve gotten over your hurt pride.”

  “Hurt pride?” Her eyes sizzled, and again he felt that inconvenient jolt of lust. “Seems like that’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

  He sketched her a mocking bow. “Looking forward to your next visit, kettle. Or are you the pot? Next time, call ahead so poor Pablo doesn’t get so flustered.”

  She opened her mouth as if to deliver another riposte, but then she pressed her lips shut, tossed her head so hard her ponytail fell loose, and stalked out of his office, looking like steam was simmering off her.

  Chapter Two

  Pablo stuck his head in the office, his eyes Bambi wide. “Uh, is everything okay?”

  Logan thrust his hand through his hair. “Yeah. And don’t hover there, Pablo. Either come in or go out.”

  For a moment he regretted snapping at his personal assistant, but the young man didn’t seem to mind as he slid into the office.

  “She’s gone, that Amber Miller,” he announced. “She steamed out of here looking like—like Beyoncé about to tear a strip off Jay Z.”

  The admiration in his voice was unsurprising. Amber Miller had always possessed a power over the opposite sex, as Logan had personally experienced. Too bad she was mad as hell at him. He rolled his shoulders, wondering why he felt so irked. Was it because he didn’t like her being mad at him?

  “Did you come in here for a reason, Pablo?” he asked, crossing to his desk.

  “Yes, your mother called. She didn’t like it when I told her you were busy.”

  “You did the right thing,” Logan said as he noted Pablo’s flush. He could just imagine what his dear mother had said to the boy. They hadn’t nicknamed Heloise Wright the “perfumed steamroller” for nothing.

  “She wanted to know if you were still with Ms. Claybourne. I told her no, you were with Ms. Amber Miller.” Pablo paused. “She didn’t say anything to that. And then she said to remind you about dinner with your parents this evening.”

  Logan gritted his teeth. Ever since he’d moved back to Pine Falls six months ago, his parents, and especially his mother, had been determined to fix him up with a “suitable” girl, and at the top of her list of eligible bachelorettes was Emily Claybourne. The Claybournes were as wealthy and important as the Wrights, members of all the right clubs, sitting on all the right boards. Almost all of them were lawyers. Emily’s grandfather had been a foun
ding partner of Deakin and Claybourne. Emily was intelligent, attractive, and well connected, an adornment to any man’s arm. Logan’s mother saw no reason why he wouldn’t want to marry such a fine specimen of womanhood. And no doubt at tonight’s dinner she’d be pressing her case once more.

  “Did I do the wrong thing?” Pablo was beginning to look worried again, probably because he could see the tightness in Logan’s jaw. “I shouldn’t have told your mother about Ms. Miller?”

  His mother wouldn’t have the foggiest idea who Amber Miller was, but it didn’t take a genius to know she wouldn’t approve of her.

  “You should’ve just told her I was in a meeting and left it at that,” Logan gently told his personal assistant.

  Pablo’s face fell. “I should be more assertive, shouldn’t I? I let Ms. Miller walk all over me, but it was very hard to stop her because she’s just so…well, there’s something about her, don’t you think?” As Logan remained silent, the young man babbled on, “I mean she’s ballsy and kinda irresistible at the same time.” He halted, his ears turning bright red. “Um, I—I should probably get back to work.” He scurried out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  With a grimace Logan dropped into his chair and slung his feet onto his desk. His personal assistant was still wet behind the ears, but he couldn’t fault his instincts. Amber was ballsy and irresistible. But this time, he was going to resist her. He had too much to lose.

  …

  “What will I do? Where will I go?” Eleni Koukoulas wrung her plump hands. For more than ten years the sixty-year-old widow had been operating the yarn store next door to Amber. She, too, had received an offer to purchase and, like the others, had gathered in Amber’s hardware store to discuss it, her normally cheerful face now puckered with concern.

  Amber put her hand on the woman’s arm. “Please don’t be alarmed, Eleni. It might never happen.”

  “You spoke to them?” Eleni blinked hopefully up at her. “You told them to leave us in peace, and they agreed?”

  Peggy Crabbe, the bakery owner, snorted. “It’s the Wright family. They don’t listen to small folk like us.” She folded her wiry arms across her flat chest. Peggy was the hardest worker Amber had ever met. Having lost her husband at an early age and raised six kids on her own, she had a fatalistic attitude toward the world. “We can’t do anything about it. It’s progress. People like us can’t stand in the way or we’ll get crushed.”

  “It’s not a done deal yet,” Amber insisted. “I read the letter again. It’s an all or nothing deal, meaning the offer only stands if we all agree to sell. Makes sense, I suppose. They need all our stores to develop their mega center.”

  “Well, James will want to sell,” Peggy said. “His store’s been sitting empty for more than a year now, and he could use the money, seeing his daughter just got into Stanford.”

  “Okay, that’s one, but what about you, Martin?” Amber turned to the last of her neighbors, who owned the electrical repair store two doors down from her.

  The forty-something-year-old tugged at his olive green knitted vest and peered at her through his thick spectacles. “Um, well, I could use the money, too, I guess…”

  “What?” Amber goggled at him. “You want to accept their offer?”

  The tips of his ears turned red. “It’s just that, our buildings are getting on a bit, and the taxes go up every year, and it is a—a generous offer, you have to admit.”

  “I admit nothing! How can you put a price on independence? We can’t just give in and fold at the first whiff of gun smoke.” Amber’s chest heaved as she warmed to her theme. “We’ve been here for decades, and we have a right to remain here. Just because Logan Wright flashes a fistful of dollars at us does not mean that we have to bow down to him. This all or nothing clause is a ploy to drive a wedge between us. He wants us to start squabbling and fall apart. We just have to stand fast and not let him bully us!”

  Peggy whooped and grinned. “You tell ’em, girl.”

  Eleni was also smiling, her tearful despondency lifted. “Oh, Amber. You speak for all of us. You’re our only hope.”

  Even Martin Kettle seemed mildly impressed. “Well, I guess I don’t mind either way, but what are you going to do? You can’t be naive enough to believe that Logan Wright will give up just because you say no. He knows how much or little we’re making. He’ll put pressure on you. He’ll get other people to put pressure on you. How are you going to stop him?”

  Three pairs of expectant eyes fixed on Amber, and an uncomfortable feeling rolled through her. Was she giving them false hope? Martin was right; a corporation as big as the Wrights didn’t get there by being mellow. How could she stop Logan with all his money and influence and lawyers? Then she looked around her store, at the shelves neatly stocked with goods, and she breathed in the smell, a mixture of metal and wood and paint, disagreeable to some but ambrosia to her, and she knew she couldn’t give this up without a fight. She couldn’t surrender. Especially not to Logan Wright.

  “I will think of something, I promise. We’re not going down without a fight, and believe me, I know how to fight.”

  Small, plump Eleni, looking like a fluffball in her white sweater, beamed and gave a fist pump.

  …

  Shafts of light from the setting sun filtered through the trees, spreading a golden softness across the lawn that stretched from the house to the edge of the lake. Summer had been Logan’s favorite season when he was growing up. Long, endless days spent under the hot sun, followed by balmy nights. He was lucky, he knew. He had grown up in this grand mansion with its deep verandas and spacious rooms filled with antiques and paintings. He had ridden his Jet Ski across the lake, the wind in his hair, and not a care in the world. He had been privileged, spoiled maybe. At the time, he hadn’t realized that bearing the Wright name came with drawbacks as well as benefits.

  “Ah, there you are, darling!” His mother linked her arm with his, drawing him to the table on the veranda where a tray of glasses and a frosted jug stood ready. “Your father will be down shortly. Francesca’s made us cucumber sangria. Why don’t you pour us a drink and tell me how your day was?”

  Sometimes—often—it was easier just to obey Heloise instead of arguing. So, although Logan would’ve preferred a beer, he dutifully poured the sangria and began telling his mother what he had done, carefully sticking to the mundane. But of course he knew she couldn’t resist turning the conversation to Emily Claybourne.

  “Such an intelligent girl,” Heloise insisted. “I know that’s important to you, brains, and Emily has that and loads of style, too. She was stunning at their garden party. Such a delightful family, the Claybournes.”

  Logan managed not to roll his eyes. “Yes, I know. I’m friends with Ryan Claybourne, remember?”

  Heloise made a small grimace. “Oh, Ryan,” she said dismissively. Ryan, Emily’s cousin, had caused a minor scandal when he’d refused to join the legal profession like the rest of his family.

  Heloise returned to her favorite subject. “Why didn’t you take Emily to lunch today?”

  “I was busy. I didn’t have the time.” Or the inclination. Emily was a good lawyer, but there was a clinginess about her that had always turned him off. In any case, as soon as Amber had arrived in his office, all his attention had focused on her, and Emily had faded into the background. Not that he’d say any of this to his mother.

  A look of impatience marred Heloise’s beautiful features. “Well, make time,” she almost snapped. “Emily isn’t going to hang around waiting for your attention forever.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He took a gulp of the sangria, which he didn’t like, but he needed the alcohol. “I’d hate for her to waste her time on me.”

  This was the wrong thing to say. Heloise set down her glass with a thunk and began rearranging the strings of pearls around her throat. Logan and his sister had learned it was always a bad sign when their mother started adjusting her necklaces.

  “Now look, Log
an,” she began, her eyes narrowed as if she wanted to bore into his head. “You’re thirty-one, and you’ve spent plenty of years sowing your wild oats, but it’s time to get serious. You need to settle down and get married to a suitable girl.”

  A vision of Amber with her torn jeans and obstinate chin and auburn hair flashed through Logan’s mind. She was definitely not a “suitable girl.”

  “Why do I have to get married?” he asked, annoyed with his inability to get Amber off his brain. “I’m not exactly living the playboy lifestyle. I’m not dating a different woman every week or spending all my time partying. In fact, since I moved back, I’ve been living like a monk, so I don’t see why you object to that.”

  “Because you were living the playboy lifestyle. I heard all the stories coming out of Dallas.”

  He waved impatiently. “Just gossip.” Whether or not those stories were based on truth, he wasn’t about to discuss his playboy past with his mother. “I’m done with that, and have been for a while.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. “And now that Sophie is engaged to Daniel Halliday, I don’t want anything to make his family think he’s made the wrong decision.”

  He’d heard this argument before. For a moment he wished his baby sister hadn’t got engaged to the senator’s son, or at least not to the son of such a well-connected and influential senator. But he loved Sophie and was happy for her, and it wasn’t her fault their mother was so anxious not to offend the Hallidays.

  He contented himself with an irritated huff. “That’s ridiculous, and I’m not going to date Emily just to keep you happy.”

  “Is that so? Well, I wasn’t going to tell you this, but your father and I have decided you’re not getting full control of the company until you’ve settled down with the right girl.”

  “What!” The glass almost snapped in Logan’s hand before he slammed it down. He swallowed down an expletive. “What are you talking about? You and Dad are forcing me to get married? To someone like Emily?” He let out an incredulous snort. “Now I’ve heard everything.”