It Happened in Manhattan. Emily McKayЧитать онлайн книгу.
as little time together as possible.”
Her breath seemed to catch in her throat and her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. Then she seemed to shake off the effects. Her eyes narrowed in obvious annoyance. “Fine.” She turned and started to walk away. “If you’re so desperate for something to do tonight that you’ll pull that cheap trick, you can come along. But don’t blame me if tickets to this fundraiser are outrageously expensive at the last minute.”
He smiled as he fell into step beside her. The spark was back in her eyes. The bite was back in her words. She’d be fine.
“I’ll pick you up at your place,” he offered.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do,” she countered. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to tell you where I live, do you?”
“You don’t honestly believe I don’t already know, do you?”
She turned and shot him an assessing stare. “You know where I live? What did you do, hire a private investigator?”
“I didn’t have to. Jonathon has a whole team that researches that kind of thing when we’re looking to acquire a company.”
“I don’t know whether to be creeped out or impressed.” She reached the street and raised her hand to hail a cab, but this time of night the streets were packed. “Creeped out wins, I think.”
“This is just company policy.”
“What, all’s fair in love and war?” she asked with an edge to her voice.
“This isn’t love or war. This is business.”
He held her gaze as firmly as he said it.
She jerked her gaze away from his, turning her attention to the passing cabs on the street. “This may be only business to you. But for me, it’s both love and war. I love Biedermann’s. And I’ve spent the last six months fighting for its survival. This may not be personal for you, but it’s deeply personal for me.”
A look of surprise crossed her face. Like she hadn’t meant to admit that. Or maybe she just wasn’t used to talking about her emotions.
After a minute he said, “Maybe that’s part of the problem.”
“Part of what problem?” He was about to respond, but she stopped him before he could. “And don’t you dare tell me that ‘the problem’ is that I care too much. That I’m too emotionally involved to make rational decisions. Because I don’t believe that my emotional state has anything to do with the flagging economy or the fact that malls across America are doing lower volume sales across the board.” Her voice rose as she spoke, betraying her frustration. “If I could miraculously turn off my emotions and stop caring about Biedermann’s, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. So if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to go right on caring passionately about—”
Her voice cracked and she started blinking rapidly. Like she was trying to hold back tears.
He reached out a hand to her. “Kitty, I’m sorry—”
But a cab finally pulled up before he could finish the sentence. “Don’t be sorry,” she ordered as she opened the door. “Just find a way to fix it. Because if you can’t, then we’re both screwed.”
She didn’t look back as she climbed into the cab. He watched her go in silence.
She was one tough cookie.
Every other woman he knew was more in touch with her emotions. Or—he corrected himself—maybe just more willing to use her emotions to get what she wanted. Any one of his sisters would have been boo-hooing up a storm halfway through the meeting. But Kitty had just sat there in silence. Listening to every word that was said, but commenting little herself.
If it hadn’t been for her outburst in the elevator, he might never have known how upset she truly was. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known. She wasn’t willing to use tears to get what she wanted. He had to admire that.
But in other ways, Kitty was exactly like the other women he knew. She herself had admitted that she’d been on the lookout for a rich husband.
But somehow the poor bastard had slipped away. Or the lucky bastard, as the case may be. Frankly, he didn’t know whether to feel sorry for the guy or not. Kitty was a hell of a woman.
Sure, he’d used steak knives that were less sharp than her tongue, but for him, that was part of her charm. He had enough women in his life that he had to walk on eggshells around. Thank God he didn’t want to get married. Otherwise he might be tempted to drop to his knees and propose right now. He nearly chuckled imagining the scathing response that would earn him.
Ford had developed a certain cynicism about the institution at a very young age. He’d been about nine or ten when he first discovered that his father had a long-term girlfriend living one town over. Eventually, that girlfriend had developed into a second family, complete with two curly-haired little girls, quite close in age to his own sister.
At first the way his father balanced both families disgusted Ford. By the time he reached adulthood himself, it was no longer his father’s behavior that troubled him. By then he’d realized both his mother and the other woman knew about each other. They’d been content to let the situation slide. As long as there was enough money to go around.
Since his father’s death, Patrice and Suz had become friends in some sick little way. As for the girls, they now treated each other like the sisters they were. He seemed to be the only one who found the situation odd.
Now, standing on the curb watching the spot where Kitty’s taxi had disappeared into the night, Ford nearly laughed himself. If she thought her revelation about her family would scare him off, she had another think coming. His family had more drama than a Greek tragedy.
Ford tucked his hands into his pockets and started walking toward the nearest subway station. It wasn’t far back to the hotel and it was a nice night. He might as well enjoy the weather.
Only then did he feel the earring still in his pocket. It was just as well he hadn’t returned it to her today. She might have been tempted to cram it down his throat.
Kitty’s apartment, a walk-up in the eclectic Murray Hill neighborhood, surprised him. He’d have pegged her for an Upper East Side girl, or at the very least he imagined her in some glossy new high-rise. Instead, she lived in a prewar building that had seen better years.
When she let him into her fourth-floor apartment she wasn’t dressed yet. She left him waiting in her living room for nearly an hour. Probably just to tick him off.
Her apartment was smaller than he’d expected, sparsely furnished with a few antiques. With the exception of a couple of framed black-and-white family pictures, the walls were bare. Either her taste was minimalist or she hadn’t lived here long.
Ford spent the time hanging out on the sofa, first answering his e-mail on his iPhone, then reviewing some specs Matt had sent him, and then finally playing Tetris on his phone.
He might have left, but the truth was, the tension was palpable. Too much remained unsaid between them. Under any other circumstances, he would have let it slide, being something of an expert on unresolved emotional issues. But with Kitty, it was different. He’d never before been in a position where he’d have to work with a woman he’d slept with. The last thing he wanted was some emotional complication mucking up the coming negotiations. If she was going to have a problem working with him, he wanted to clear the air now.
Finally her bedroom door opened to reveal Kitty encased in a shimmering deep purple gown with a low-cut, heart-shaped neckline. Her dark hair fell in sleek waves about her shoulders. He nearly laughed at the expression of surprise that flickered across her face when she spied him.
He stood. “You look lovely.”
She fell into