Owed: One Wedding Night
Owed: One Wedding Night
NANCY HOLLAND
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk
HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015
Copyright © Nancy Holland 2015
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover design by Michelle Andrews
Nancy Holland asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International
and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access
and read the text of this e-book on screen.
No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or
stored in or introduced into any information storage and
retrieval system, in any form or by any means,
whether electronic or mechanical, now known or
hereinafter invented, without the express
written permission of HarperCollins.
Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
Ebook Edition © May 2015 ISBN: 9780008127374
Version 2015-05-27
In loving memory of my mother, who introduced me to romance and always believed this day would come.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Acknowledgements
Nancy Holland
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Madison Ellsworth’s heart pounded in rhythm with the noisy staccato of her heels on the marble floor of Carlyle & Sons’ San Francisco headquarters. The unwelcoming glass-and-steel decor, softened only here and there by hand-woven wall-hangings in shades of rust, gold, and azure, made the long path from the elevator to the receptionist’s desk seem endless.
She could do this. She had to do this. Her mother had gone through so much in the last two months. The least Madison could do was take this one burden off of her shoulders. If she felt like a sacrificial lamb on the way to slaughter, she had no one to blame but herself. She crossed her fingers for luck.
When she finally reached the stunning metal sculpture that was the receptionist’s desk, the redhead who sat behind it looked up at her with a small frown.
Madison shifted the Italian leather briefcase her mother had given her when she got into Stanford Business School from one damp hand to the other. “I’m here to see Mr. Carlyle.”
“I’m sorry.” The receptionist didn’t sound sorry at all. “He has an appointment with,” she glanced at the computer screen, cleverly hidden in the desk. “With a Mrs. Ellsworth.”
Madison took a deep breath and resisted the need to lift a hand and check that her sleek up-do was still perfect. “Mrs. Ellsworth couldn't make it. I’m her daughter.”
The redhead gave a small shrug and pushed a hidden button on the desk.
“Your ten o’clock appointment is here, Mr. Carlyle.”
The distance from the reception area to Jake Carlyle’s office was only a fraction of the walk from the elevator, but it felt ten times longer. At every clack of Madison’s heels on polished marble, the urge to forget this whole plan and head for the safety of home threatened to overwhelm her.
She forced her mother’s worried face to the front of her mind to block out everything but her promise to save Dartmoor Department Stores. If she thought too much about how Jake might react when he saw her, she could never do this. But her mother had paid too high a price to hold on to the family business for Madison to quit now.
Besides, there was no reason she and the head of Carlyle & Sons couldn’t discuss the issue like adults.
The receptionist glided ahead of her and opened the door to the office with a flourish.
The antique mahogany desk that dominated the room on the other side of the door was impressive. The man behind it was even more impressive.
Jake Carlyle’s face was elevated above mere masculine good looks by the slash of cheekbones inherited from the fashion model who had deigned to become his mother. The hand-tailored gray pinstripe suit emphasized the power of his tall, muscular frame.
He stood with a frown as Madison stepped into his inner sanctum.
Merely looking at the man took her breath away. When he raised sapphire-blue eyes to meet hers, her heart stopped entirely, then thudded back to life in double time.
Taking him by surprise was the only point in her favor. She watched the emotions run across the face she knew so well – surprise, a hint of lust, curiosity, and, finally, the beginnings of anger.
The anger made him lift his head slightly. His expression returned to the polite boredom a man like Jake Carlyle displayed to mere mortals, yet a frisson of sexual excitement lingered in the climate-controlled air.
“What are you doing here?”
Just what her frayed nerves needed – the man was channeling her father. She took a deep breath to calm herself.
“Mother doesn’t feel well, so I came instead.”
He looked away. For a moment, she’d rattled him. She lifted her chin a little higher and waited for his next move.
“How is she? It must have been a terrible shock.”
Madison’s eyes stung with a rush of unexpected grief. Shock, yes. Terrible, yes. But not in the way he thought.
For a moment the devastating memory of that pre-dawn phone call, made stronger by being in Jake’s presence, threatened to overwhelm her. Her first impulse, almost a compulsion, had been to call him, to go to him for the strength and comfort she needed, even though she’d no longer had a right to expect anything from him. Reality, and duty, had won out. She’d gone to her mother, been the strong one, the comforter. She’d had no other choice.
She fought off the still raw pain by making the Ms.-Manners-approved response. “It was nice of you to come to my father's memorial service.”
“Old friends and all that. You and your parents came to the one for my father.”
Those two unhappy events were the only times she and Jake had seen each other in three years. She sighed.
The momentary weakness didn’t go unpunished.
“So why did you, or rather your mother, want to talk to me?”
The ice in his voice made her knees wobble. Obviously the pleasantries were over.
She gave a meaningful look at the comfortable chairs that flanked the fireplace at the far end of the office, but instead he gestured at the stiff leather chair across the desk from his. They sat down at the same moment, eyes fixed on each other’s faces, like boxers circling in the ring.
She took a deep breath and began in a professional tone she hoped she could hang on to. “How much do you know about the circumstances surrounding my father’s death?”
He had the good grace to look uncomfortable. “Only what was in the newspapers. I didn’t follow all the stuff that showed up on the web.”
And thank you for that.
“I take it there are financial issues,” he continued.
She wondered if that was how her mother had phrased it when she made this appointment. Or was he only being polite? Madison took another deep breath and carefully unknotted her hands.
“These last few years…” She forced air into her lungs. “My father's relationship with Dartmoor's Chief Financial Officer…” Anger and shame, added to the nervousness that kept her heart pounding double time, finally stole her voice.
Jake chose to be merciful. “The woman he was with when he died?”
She nodded. Able to breathe again, she gave up on spontaneity as a bad bet and launched into the speech her mother would have made.
“Dartmoor Department Stores has suffered from an unfortunate lack of financial oversight recently that has left it in a difficult situation. New leadership…” Her heart stumbled at the thought. “New leadership is now in place.”
At least she’d been able to convince her father’s mistress to resign. Firing her would only have added to the scandal. Unfortunately, nothing could be done about the all-cash golden parachute the former CFO and Madison’s father had set up for her, which had decimated Dartmoor’s cash reserves.
“However,” Madison continued, “the missteps of the previous CFO have left the company seriously short of the capital it needs to move forward in this challenging economy.”
“Missteps, incompetence, or fraud?” Jake interrupted.
Madison looked down. “We’re not sure.”
“Has the new leadership you referred to had a forensic audit done?”
Her face heated. “That would cost more money than seemed wise to spend on the chance it would turn up any criminal misconduct.”
Criminal misconduct, which might, she didn’t bother to add, implicate her father.
She raised her eyes to search Jake’s face for some clue as to what he might be thinking, but met only a stare so cold it knocked what she meant to say next out of her mind completely.
“Go on,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt such a carefully canned speech.”
His disdain shook her mind free of its temporary paralysis. “Unfortunately, most of my mother’s assets and those of the other investors in Dartmoor have also been victims of the economy, and as things stand there’s little chance of attracting private capital or new investors.”
“What about the trust fund from your grandmother?”
Of course he’d remember that little detail.
“My mother and I have been living on it since my father died.” Nana’s money had also put Madison through business school, but she didn’t dare say so. “We’re spending the principal now.” She suppressed a shudder at the thought of how soon they’d use up the last of that.
Jake shook his head. She was probably the only person in the world beside his mother who would recognize the tiny tic of impatience at one corner of his mouth.
His voice was as bland as his features. “So, where do I come into the picture?”
She looked past him out the window at the sunshine glinting off the building across the street. No inspiration there.
If it was up to her, she’d have sold everything and lived in a tent in Golden Gate Park rather than answer Jake’s question. She’d exhausted every other option first. She’d sold the condo where she lived while she was in business school and now shared the Pacific Heights apartment her mother had moved into when she'd been forced to sell their home in Marin County.
Jake sat there, watching her.
Panic swept over her, choked her. She couldn’t do this. There had to be another way. She’d let Dartmoor go and take one of the jobs she’d been offered in Silicon Valley. She and her mother could get an apartment together down there…
And her mother would be miserable. The humiliation of having her husband die in another woman’s bed, then all the stress of learning that they might have to close Dartmoor had already aged Dana Ellsworth ten years in the last two months. She’d had lived a mockery of a marriage for as long as Madison could remember and even that might not have been enough to keep Dartmoor in the family.
Which is why Madison was sitting here, face hot with humiliation, damp hands once again knotted in her lap.
She let out a long, slow breath. “If you would loan my mother…” She couldn’t finish.
He raised his eyebrows in a way she’d once thought the sexiest thing in the world. Right now the gesture made her look for a waste basket, in case her stomach betrayed her completely.
“How much?”
She named a figure that made Jake’s eyes open wide.
“How much of that is for Dartmoor and how much is to support your mother’s lifestyle? Not to mention yours?”
Madison was tempted to tell him her lifestyle, as bare-bones as it had become lately, was none of his business. But that wouldn’t help her mother.
“All the money will be used to implement my plan to revitalize Dartmoor.”
Both his eyebrows went up. “Your plan?”
This was the opening she needed. She lifted the briefcase to her lap and opened it.
“Yes. If you look at the some of my ideas, you'll see…”
He held up his hand. “Spare me. I don't think I can sit through another of your amateur sales pitches.”
She started to protest that her MBA in marketing made her far from an amateur, but the look on his face, somewhere between amusement and rage, stopped her. Instead she set the case down again and tried to ignore the memories that kept flooding back and threatened to make it impossible for her to continue.
“So, the money would all go to Dartmoor.”
She nodded.
“And what will you two live on in the meantime?”
What should she tell him? The whole truth wasn’t an option.
“I've had several job offers.”
Something dark crossed his face, then evaporated.
“Jobs that will pay enough to support your mother’s current lifestyle?”
“No.” That was true enough. “But with my trust fund, we’ll manage.”
He leaned forward in his chair, arms on the desk. With an effort she managed not to draw back, away from the masculine energy of his body.
“And how to you plan to pay back this loan? Out of Dartmoor’s profits? Unlikely, any time soon. Out of your salary? I don’t think so.”
“Jake, I have a photo of you at my christening.” He flinched, probably at the image of himself as a bored, but adorable four-year-old in a stiff black suit. “If you loan us the money, you know I’ll pay you back, no matter what happens.”
“I doubt either of us will live long enough for you to pay me back that kind of money out of your paychecks.”
Somehow Jake must have missed the news that she’d finished her MBA at the top of her class. She sat up a little straighter. She might not have made much in the short term if she’d taken any of those jobs, but in a year, ten years, she’d have been earning the money to pay him back several times over. A man as smart as he was could figure that out. Maybe he wasn’t ready to accept that he’d been wrong when he tried to veto her plan to go to business school.
The impulse to run away that had lurked at the back of her mind ever since she entered the building took over. She set both feet on the floor, ready to stand up, when she remembered that this time it wasn’t about her. It was about her mother and saving the family legacy.
She sat back and crossed her legs. If she had to stay, the best defense might be a good offense.
“If you’re worried I might stiff you for the money by dying, I could take out a life- insurance policy for the full amount and make you the beneficiary. If I pay you back most of it and something happens to me, you’d make a nice profit on the deal.”
He scowled. “That’s not the point. The point is that a loan implies an ability to repay the money. Frankly, I can’t see how that’s supposed to happen. Maybe your MBA will take you right to the executive suite.” She flinched, but he didn’t notice. “Or maybe you’ll get laid off or have an employer fail on you, and then where would I be?”
“Still filthy rich.” Not exactly the right attitude when she was asking him for such a big favor, but the man knew how to push her buttons. All of them.
“So you want me to give you the money for old times’ sake?” He leaned back in his chair and looked her straight in the eye.
She shook off the shattering impact of his gaze, impatient at her inability to keep the past behind her.
Apparently he couldn’t forget what they’d shared either. But she couldn’t believe he’d refuse to help because their wedding plans had fallen through. That didn’t sound like the Jake she’d once adored. She searched for that Jake in the face of the stranger in front of her.
“Is that what you would have said if it was my mother sitting here?”
“Not in those words, no, but whatever I said to her would have led to the same outcome – no loan.”
“What about half that amount?” It was better than nothing.
He shook his head.
The clang of a cable-car bell found its way up from the street below. She took a calming breath against the anger that simmered just below the surface.
“I expected better of you, Jake. I expected you to at least look at my plan to turn Dartmoor around.”
“Because?”
“Because you’re a fair man. And you know I will repay you, no matter what.”
He shrugged and picked up a pen from his desk with a this-conversation-is-over gesture.
“I think we all learned a long time ago that I am the last person to predict what you will or will not do.”
She leaned forward, hands on the edge of his desk. “I’m not asking you to do this for me.” No power on earth could make her stoop that low. “I’m asking you to do it for my mother.”
“I won’t be doing it at all. I was always fond of your mother, but this is business.”
She sank back. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from Jake, but certainly more than that icy dismissal. When he didn’t say anything more, she reluctantly gathered her purse and briefcase to leave, mind already searching for other ways to get the money.
She was halfway out of the chair when he said, “Madison.”
She sat back down and lifted her head.
“Tell your mother I’m sorry.”
“I'm sure she’ll find that a great comfort when they liquidate her family business because you refused to help.”
His eyes narrowed as he stood. “You never do know when to shut up, do you?”
Anger propelled her to her feet. She would not let him loom over her like a predator over its prey.
“Maybe not, but I do know refusing to marry you was the smartest thing I ever did.”
On that blatant lie, she turned to walk out.
“Madi.” The old nickname came unwanted to Jake’s lips. He couldn’t let her go. Not with those words hanging in the air between them.
She turned. Hope battled with wariness in her sea-green eyes as she waited for him to say something. But what?
He needed time to think. To adjust to having her so close he could smell her perfume – the same exotic French scent he remembered, full of unspoken promises. So close he could see the little worry line between her eyes, could touch her…
“Dinner,” he said.
She frowned.
“I don’t have time to listen to your plan now. Let’s have dinner tonight. I can look at what you’ve come up with then and decide whether it can turn Dartmoor around and make a loan viable.”
A glow lit up her face.
“I’m not making any promises.” He just wasn’t ready to let her walk out of his life again.
The light in her eyes dimmed. “Of course not.”
“The Yacht Club?” His turf – and the opposite of romantic.
“Sure. What time?”
“Seven.” That would give him time to have a drink in the bar first. He’d need it. “Do you want me to send the limo for you?”
“No.”
He thought he heard an echo of disappointment in her voice. She couldn’t have expected him to pick her up. This wasn’t a date. It was strictly business. Suuuure it was.
“I haven’t had to sell the Ferrari yet.”
Her sad smile twisted his heart.
“Oh.” He’d refused to let her return his engagement gift after the wedding fell through. What would he have done with the damned car? And she loved it so much.
Her smile faded as they stared at each other for a moment too long. Long enough for the good memories to outnumber the bad. For him, at least.
Luckily his cell buzzed noisily before he could do or say anything stupid.
“I'll see you tonight.” Her voice told him nothing.
He nodded and took his call, all too aware of the door closing behind her as she left.
He couldn’t settle down to work after he ended the call. He walked to the windows and gazed down at the busy parade of people on Montgomery Street, the heart of the San Francisco financial district, several floors below. His father had preferred the office next door overlooking San Francisco Bay, but Jake had switched his office with the boardroom when he took over Carlyle's. The Bay was his father’s escape, an escape that eventually proved fatal and made Jake President and Chair of the Board before he was thirty.
The darkness of those days lingered. The tinge of Madison’s perfume that hung in the air was an aching reminder of how he’d longed to have her comfort and strength beside him through it all. But she’d made her choice. She’d chosen business school and left him at the altar.
Which is why Jake preferred Montgomery Street. It put the past behind him, where it belonged. The energy of the busy street below recharged him, motivated him, drove him. He needed all that and more after the scene with Madison.
When she first walked in – dark circles under her eyes expensive make-up couldn’t hide, pale-blonde hair twisted up on her head, wearing the same black suit she’d worn to her father’s funeral – he’d been stunned by the double whammy of tension in his gut and a pang in his heart. But before he could decide whether to take her in his arms or start raging about what she’d done to him, he realized how nervous she was. That one moment of sympathy had earned him twenty minutes of feigning the cold indifference toward her he wished he felt.
He’d avoided her for the last three years because he knew seeing her again would turn him inside out like this. A need that was far more than physical still gnawed at his gut.
Every time she’d traded verbal jabs with him the way she used to, his libido had jumped into overdrive. It had been all he could do not to grab her and take her in every way a man could.
Madison had always had that effect on him. Erotic memories flooded his mind, hardened his body, before he could stop them.
He banished them in an instant with the memory of standing at the church door, where her father had told him in a red-faced rage, “The little bitch isn’t coming. She says she’s sorry. Sorry! After all the money I threw away on this fiasco.”
Then her father had taken Jake’s arm, dragged him to the altar, and made him stand there while the preacher announced to the hundreds of people in attendance that the wedding was off.
Now Madison expected Jake to loan her mother money because he was “a fair man”. She’d been pushing the limits to expect him not to throw her bodily out of his office the minute she appeared in the door.