Charming You (Thirsty Hearts Book 1) Page 5

  The evening had stumbled to an awkward start. Andy's classic friendly, teasing demeanor helped his restaurant's success. He laughed it up with the guys and flirted harmlessly with the ladies. Andy no longer had any interest in Micky beyond that. If he did, Elle would have his head. They'd been living together for a couple of years. Nick seemed to think…well, she didn't know what he thought.

  "They make a good couple," Micky commented, turning her striking hazel eyes up at him over the rim of her martini glass.

  "Who?"

  "Andy and Elle."

  "The hostess?"

  "Uh, huh." Another sip. The martini hit her a little faster than usual. She needed to eat.

  Micky watched Nick's eyes swivel with from the hostess, to the bar, and then back to her. She suppressed a smile as he spoke.

  "I suppose they do. How long have you known Andy?"

  "About eight years. We dated five or six years ago. He's a great guy, but not for me."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't know. He'd just opened this place and was working every night until three or four in the morning. Not my kind of lifestyle."

  "What is your kind of lifestyle? Your type?" Nick inquired.

  "Oh, pretty basic. Have a day job. No criminal record. And he has to be able to spell. I was a journalism major. Spelling is very important."

  Nick laughed. "Do you have a spelling test in your purse?"

  "I don't know. Is this an official date? I thought I was buying you dinner to thank you for helping me with my car."

  "This is a friendly conversation over a drink, which you owe me. But I'm buying you dinner."

  "Chauvinist."

  "I prefer to think of myself as a gentleman."

  The word "gentleman" triggered Micky's curiosity about the supposed fiancée.

  "Hmmm…I'm not sure. I've heard some things," she said.

  "Like what?" Nick shifted in his seat.

  She regarded him closely to gauge his reaction. "Like that you're engaged to be married next summer."

  Nick's face went still and Micky felt a twinge of disappointment.

  "I was engaged. My fiancée called it off," Nick explained.

  "Oh, I'm sorry." Micky sensed he told the truth.

  "Thanks."

  "How long ago?"

  "How long ago did she break it off? Four months ago," he said simply in a tone that told Micky a change of subject and lightening of the mood was in order.

  "Now we've established that. You aren't engaged. I'm not involved with the owner of this place. We're just two single people. Hungry, single people. Or at least I am. We should order."

  "We should." With that, Nick gave Micky a sparkling smile, and they settled into a comfortable conversation about her upcoming trip to Paris and how they got started in their respective careers.

  "I don't know how I ended up working in technology. In college, I had dreams of breaking news as a hard-nosed reporter. I worked at the paper in Lubbock for a year, hated it, and ended up getting a job as a copywriter at a marketing company. Then, I found my way to an in-house position at Azur a few years ago. I like it. The market is tough, but we're growing."

  "What do you sell?"

  "Communications software. We target mostly small and medium businesses who need smaller systems and more technical assistance with implementation and maintenance." Micky laughed. "I don't want to bore you with the details. What type of law do you practice?"

  "Corporate. It's like what you used to do. I help the in-house departments. My group specializes in mergers and acquisitions."

  "That must be interesting."

  "It can be. Nothing that's changing as quickly as technology, though. Before I went to law school, I worked in the finance department of a computer company."

  Micky sighed. "It does change very quickly. We've bought up a few smaller software companies to get new customers. The expansion has been difficult sometimes. I'd hoped it was settling down. I'm sure you know since you work in that area."

  "Most of the time, I'm leaving right as the companies come together. I miss most of the fireworks. It sounds like your situation isn't smoothing out like you'd hoped. Are there more acquisitions in the works?"

  Micky paused. The in-depth details of the company integrations weren't for public consumption.

  "That's not an issue. Things are going well. I have opportunities to advance," she said. "It's stressful sometimes juggling all the work, but I'm happy there."

  "That's great. Soon you'll be running the place. How was your family dinner on Friday?" Nick asked.

  "It went as well as it possibly could. My brother is close to proposing to his girlfriend. He wanted his mom to get to know her. My stepmother isn't the easiest person to impress."

  "Your stepmother?"

  "Technically, she's not my stepmother, but I spent time with her, visiting Pete when I was little. He's my half-brother. My father was married to his mother, and then they divorced, and my dad married my mom. Then, more divorces, more remarriages. Ten marriages between the three of them." Micky rolled her eyes.

  "Ten?" Nick was incredulous.

  "Yes. Ten. But just the two of us kids—me and my half-brother. We're close even though once my mother divorced his father, I left with my mom. I think I found leaving Pete sadder than the divorce itself. Life wasn't the same without my big brother."

  Micky smiled as she said it, but inside she remembered crying at night under the covers so her mother wouldn't hear. Her parents were so self-involved neither one had much time to attend to a seven-year-old girl and her desire to play board games and Barbies.

  "Pete was seven years older, but he always made time to drag out Operation or checkers whenever I asked. He would help me stage grand plays with my dolls, and he helped me paint my room bright purple when I was ten. Purple was my favorite color. Every time I moved to a new place, I'd always have to paint my room. It helped keep some things the same throughout my mom's rather colorful marital life. What about your parents?"

  "My father passed away when I was nine."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. Here I am complaining about my parents."

  "Don't worry. It's fine. I'm lucky to have the family I have. My mom worked hard to make sure we didn't miss out on much."

  "Is your sister younger or older?"

  "Younger. I was the man of the house."

  The light tone Nick adopted couldn't hide his sense of duty.

  "You feel responsible for your sister," Micky said. She understood that. Pete took his role as the reliable man in her life as seriously as a good father.

  "Sure, and for my mom. She's getting older. She had a fall over a year ago and hurt her hip and back. She had to retire. It's time for me to pay her back."

  "What did she do?"

  Nick hesitated, lifting his chin. "She owned a cleaning business."

  "Like a maid service?"

  "Not exactly. Her company cleaned commercial properties like office buildings and hotels. She started out as a housekeeper; then she went out on her own with some friends. It's never been a big moneymaker, but she supported us after my dad died."

  Micky's mother, Lillian Burrows, never had an occupation. Her work was staying in shape and keeping her husbands happy, but being the fun, trophy wife isn't something you put on a resume. Micky had every advantage growing up but sometimes felt like that was a side note to her parents' getting what they wanted. Her stepfathers paid the bills. Her dad gave her presents, but was never present.

  "You adore her. I can tell." Micky grinned, and Nick returned the smile.

  "I do. She drives me crazy, but I wouldn't trade her for anything. The fall scared me. I have to make sure that she's has what she needs."

  "Do they still live here in Dallas?"

  "Sure. My sister is here with her family. She has a husband and two daughters. I don't have that, so I can focus all my energy on making sure my mother stays out of trouble."

  "Who keeps you out of trouble?"

  "They split d
uty on that, I think. What about you?"

  "Hmm. I don't know that Pete's too good about keeping me in line, but he looks out for me. It's funny. I used to wish Pete had been a girl. I'd go visit my dad in the summer and try to make Pete go shopping with me and help me pick out makeup. He was pretty good about taking me, although I think it became an excuse for him to go to the mall and flirt with older girls at the food court. There was one at the Orange Julius he was particularly fond of."

  Nick laughed. "Mall girls were hot. Cute uniforms and ponytails. Plus, they wore name tags so you could walk right up and start talking."

  "Uniforms and ponytails, huh? Must be hard to find your ideal lady now that you're over twenty."

  "My tastes have evolved," Nick countered, the heat from his brilliant green eyes creeping into her cheeks.

  "What's your type now?" she asked.

  "I don't know that I have one. There are lots of women in the world. Each has her unique charm."

  "That doesn't bode well."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It sounds like you can be swayed by whatever charming woman crosses your path," Micky explained.

  Nick frowned. "I just don't think there are physical characteristics—blonde hair or brown eyes, tall, short, whatever—that can tell you how you're going to feel about someone. I've dated all kinds of women, and they all have something unique to appreciate."

  "Must be hard to narrow the field," Micky replied, unreasonably peeved.

  "Not necessarily. When you know, you know."

  "I wouldn't have pegged you as a romantic."

  "Really? I thought I was pretty charming." Nick crinkled his brow and smiled.

  Micky pondered what Nick said as their conversation continued, and she ordered another drink. As dinner progressed, he started looking better and better. Micky liked him despite her sense that something else was going on with him. She mentally kicked herself. The more she liked him, the more insecure she felt.

  After they finished eating, Nick snatched up the bill and quickly dropped in his credit card. Micky frowned. "I thought I was paying you back for your help the other night."

  "That was just an excuse to see you. I can't let you pay for my dinner," Nick said, shaking his head.

  "Why not?"

  "I asked you to dinner."

  "Because I owed you. Or is this a date? Seems like maybe I should pay just so you can avoid trouble with whatever other women you have in your life," Micky said. Maybe she'd had one too many martinis.

  "Other women?" Nick narrowed his eyes at her.

  Micky shrugged. "Something is going on with you. I can't figure it out. And anyway, it doesn't matter. I owe you, and I'm a woman who pays her debts." She reached across the table and took the vinyl sleeve with the bill from Nick's fingers.

  "I can see that. You handle your business."

  "I do." She handed him back his card and slipped hers into the bill instead. "You probably don't have much practice, but this is where you smile, look pretty, and say thank you."

  Nick tilted his head back and laughed aloud, holding his hands up in surrender. "Fine."

  Micky squelched her disappointment. He said he was single, but doubt ate at her. She didn't need to see him again. She handed the bill back to the waiter with an emphatic snap of her wrist. Her head swam, and she pulled her phone out to order an Uber ride home. What started as a fun evening out had taken a turn for the worse. Micky thought about apologizing for being short with him, but then decided she was better off if he didn't like her. The last thing she needed was another complex situation with a guy hiding something.

  Chapter Seven

  Taryn stormed into Micky's office promptly at 8:00 a.m., closing the door behind her and making herself at home in the chair across from Micky. "I know you want to go over the opening day agenda for the conference, but I can't possibly pay attention to that until you tell me about your date."

  "It wasn't a date," Micky replied, tucking her hair behind her ear and avoiding eye contact.

  "I can't believe you're sticking with that load of bull. I saw your face yesterday when you got that phone call. That was a date."

  "It might have been a date except he's got some complication going with an ex-fiancée—or supposedly ex—I'm not entirely sure." Micky twisted her bottom lip between her teeth.

  "Did you ask?"

  "Yeah," Micky sighed. "I asked. He said he had been engaged, but that she'd broken things off with him."

  "So, then he's single?" Taryn raised her eyebrows, and a sly smile spread across her face.

  "There's some story there. Something he clearly didn't want to discuss. Sore subject, I guess."

  "Maybe you can make him feel better?" Taryn waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  Easing Nick's pain was a tantalizing thought, but Micky resisted. "No. My gut is telling me to steer clear. He was evasive."

  "Did he look like he was lying? Maybe he just had a rough break up. So did you. It could be that you both need to climb back up on that horse. Together," Taryn said, grinning.

  "Your Baptist mother would be shocked to hear you suggesting that I have a meaningless fling," Micky replied, feigning astonishment.

  "I did no such thing. It wouldn't have to be meaningless. How would you know if you don't give it a chance?"

  "I'm still licking my wounds from my last disaster. I do better when I listen to my gut and my head."

  "Your gut and your head won't lead you to love, sweetie," Taryn argued.

  Her heart had led her to Eric, the cheating liar. Micky needed time to recalibrate her heart's compass. Plus, the main part of her drawn to Nick wasn't her heart, her head, or her gut. That part sat lower, and it certainly couldn't be trusted.

  "I don't think he'd be interested anyway. I was a little rude to him."

  "What? Why?"

  "He just seemed," Micky paused, "blasé about women."

  "Self-sabotage, my friend."

  "I'm not looking for love, right now, anyway," Micky said, slicing the air with her hand for emphasis.

  Taryn rolled her eyes, subtly shaking her head. "What are you looking for?"

  Micky turned Taryn's question over in her mind. Easy. She just wanted a straightforward man without an agenda or secrets. Simplicity. That, and for this conversation to be over.

  "Budget numbers. I'm looking for budget numbers."

  Taryn picked up her manila folder and reached across the desk to smack Micky over the head.

  "Hey!" Micky exclaimed, holding her arms up in protest.

  "Oh, stop. You need a good smack," Taryn defended, opening the folder and sliding a spreadsheet printout across the wood-grain laminate desk.

  Micky laughed and looked at the numbers, reveling in a return to the business at hand. She poured over the file, sitting back in her chair to ease the tension out of her neck. She didn't think it was too much to ask to have a life that made sense.

  "By the way, I spoke to Ben. There's a new partner to add to the list. I'll get you the details," Micky explained. She hated holding back from her friend—especially with all this talk of honesty. For now, though, she had no choice.

  In the few days that passed since having dinner with Micky, Nick stifled the impulse to call her, even though his mission required it. As much as he appreciated the lush body she could hardly conceal in her buttoned-up office gear, she'd gotten persnickety with him over nothing. Whatever she wanted to say about his baggage, she had a truckload of her own. Nick snickered to himself. The woman had a sharp truth detector. He'd need to watch out for that and stay focused on his priorities—Vivienne, Tom, and Azur. Nick couldn't afford to engage in games with a woman to whom he had an unwise attraction. He had enough problematic intersections of his personal and professional life.

  He and his team had met with his not-quite father-in-law that morning to discuss the planned acquisition of Azur Technologies. Tom thought the small company might be lured into accepting additional investment. He wanted the technology, and he w
anted the customers—both of which could fetch a pretty penny down the road. Tom didn't build companies. He bought and sold them. Between the acquisition and the potential sale down the road, Tom's long-term goals could mean a tremendous amount of business for Nick's firm.

  Right after their meeting, Bob Stratford, a founding partner of the law firm, took Tom into his office for some glad-handing, but not before letting Tom know how bright Nick's future looked with the firm. Nick wasn't even a partner yet, and he was bringing in profitable business. No one seemed to care about the nepotism of the deal. Billings were billings.

  An hour later, Nick heard a soft knock on the partially open door to his small, gray office.

  Tom popped his head in. "I know you can't have lunch, but I wanted to stop in before I left."

  "Thanks. Unfortunately, I have a pile of work to do," Nick said.

  "Understood. Do you think you might be able to come by the house this evening for dinner?"

  Nick prayed the man hovering in his doorway couldn't see him squirming in his seat. He scooted his chair forward under his massive desk.

  "I don't usually get out of here until pretty late."

  "I think you can ask Bob to let you out a little early tonight," Tom said with a wink and a cold, broad smile.

  Nick sensed the inevitability of his evening plans. "What time?"

  "Oh, seven or seven thirty. We'll sit down at eight," Tom informed him. "Vivienne will be there, and Jonah and his girlfriend."

  Jonah was Vivienne's brother.

  "She knows I'm coming?"

  "She does. That's not a problem for you, of course."

  Nick balked. "Of course not. I just don't want to surprise her."

  "No worries. Besides, when is seeing your fiancé ever an unwelcome surprise?" Tom asked.

  Nick could think of several scenarios, but kept his mouth shut on that topic. "I'll be there by seven thirty." Then, Bob and Amos Winston walked past Nick's door and hustled Tom away for lunch.

  Nick picked up his cell phone and dialed Vivienne's number. When she once again didn't pick up, he left her a voicemail.