Steal My Heart (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) Read online

  STEAL MY HEART

  BACHELORS & BRIDESMAIDS (#2)

  BARBARA FREETHY

  Also Available

  In the Bachelors and Bridesmaids series

  Kiss Me Forever (#1)

  STEAL MY HEART

  Was there no escaping her high school nemesis, Michael Stafford? Liz Palmer had had her first run-in with the football hero when he'd tried to kiss her in high school, and she'd broken his nose. Now ten years later Michael is back in her life, vying for the same business account, and she is determined to win.

  Liz's career is her life, but something has been missing all these years, and in her heart she knows it's Michael. With her friends falling in love, and yet another stint as a bridesmaid in her future, Liz wonders if there's a way to mix business and love...

  Steal My Heart

  © Copyright 2014 Barbara Freethy

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED (v1)

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact: [email protected]

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  Table of 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 Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt: RYAN’S RETURN

  Book List

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Screams filled the air as the roller coaster paused at the top peak, allowing the occupants one shattering look at the death drop below. Then the cars went screeching over the edge, defying gravity and risking death. Liz Palmer let out a breath as she watched the speedy descent of the roller coaster called Shoot The Moon. She wasn't even on the ride, but she felt her stomach tie itself into a knot that didn't loosen until the frightening screams turned into shaky laughter and the wheels came to a grinding halt along the bottom platform.

  She couldn't imagine wanting to ride something so terrifying. She preferred the solid ground beneath her feet, security and stability and things that she understood—not this land of make-believe and illusion. But none of that mattered. She'd come to Playworld for work, not for fun.

  The amusement park had opened three months earlier on the outskirts of Sacramento, a ninety-minute drive from her home in San Francisco. Now that their initial launch was over, the Playworld Corporation was looking for a PR firm to come up with a strategic campaign to propel the park into the top tier of amusement parks around the world. She was planning on winning the multi-million dollar account for her company: Damien, Falks and Palmer.

  Turning away from the ride, she headed toward the large castle in the center of the park that housed the executive offices. Her heels clicked against the pavement and as she made her way past rides, food concessions and gift shops, she felt decidedly overdressed in her dark gray skirt, cream-colored top and black heels.

  She pulled open the sturdy door leading into the castle. Her shoes immediately sank into shaggy dark green carpet that reminded her of walking through grass.

  As she made her way to the reception desk, she couldn't help noticing that the playful atmosphere of the amusement park extended to the offices. The walls were covered with impressionistic paintings that looked like dreams, nightmares or fantasies. The furniture was just as fanciful: oddly shaped tables carved out of wood, enormous chairs that would make anyone feel small and mirrors at every angle that seemed to magnify the entire experience. She was beginning to feel like she was in Alice in Wonderland.

  A perky young receptionist dressed in something akin to a princess costume looked up with a cheerful smile as Liz approached the front desk.

  "Can I help you?" the woman asked.

  "I'm here to see Mr. Hayward. Liz Palmer from Damien, Falks and Palmer." She pushed her business card across the counter and offered her usual professional smile.

  "He's in a meeting at the moment, but I'll let him know you're here. Why don't you have a seat? He should be free soon."

  Liz nodded, walking over to one of the chairs with a wary expression. The seat resembled the lap of a friendly giant. There were sleeves on the arms of the chair and the back had a round, cheery face above a bulging chest. Shaking her head in amazement, she sat down, jerking abruptly to her feet when a buzzer sounded. The mouth of the giant opened, and he began to speak. "Hello. I'm Lawrence. Please take a seat. I want you to be comfortable."

  Liz looked around the room, wondering if she was going completely crazy. The receptionist was tied up on the phone and didn't appear to be the least concerned with her. Bending down, she took a closer look at the face. Yes, there was a speaker and there were lines where the mouth had opened. She sighed. A talking chair—just what she needed. Maybe she'd just stand.

  "Mr. Hayward is free," the receptionist said a moment later. "His office is through those double doors, down the hall, second door on the left."

  "Thank you." Liz walked toward the doors, relieved to get down to business.

  "Oh, one more thing," the receptionist called out after her. "Watch out for the quicksand. It's Mr. Hayward's idea of a joke. It's pretty clearly marked, but sometimes people miss it."

  "Thanks for the tip." Liz walked cautiously into the hallway. It looked normal. The brown carpet appeared to be solid. Had the woman been kidding? Or was she missing something?

  A door down the hall opened and a man stepped into the corridor. She was about to give him a brief, impersonal smile, but when her eyes met his, her heart stopped in shock. The man was tall, with light brown hair streaked with gold. His eyes were very blue, and his smile was not only filled with amusement, but was very, very familiar.

  Michael Stafford? What the hell was he doing here?

  No answer came to mind, but it was definitely Michael. It had been nine years since she'd seen him at their high school graduation. His face was older now, his shoulders broader than she remembered, but the nose she had once broken was still a little crooked.

  Why him? Why now? She needed to be on her game, and Michael had always been one to throw her off balance.

  "Lizzie?" he questioned. "Is that really you?"

  "Michael?" She took a few steps forward and the floor suddenly fell away. With a startled scream, she fell into a shallow pit.

  Michael covered the distance between them in barely a second. "Are you all right?"

  "What happened?" she asked in bewilderment. She was now surrounded by pillows, which thankfully had prevented an injury.

  "You fell into the quicksand. Didn't they warn you out front?" Michael reached out a hand to help her back up. "The squares are shaded a darker brown here, and there's a sign on the wall, although you practically need a magnifying glass to see it."

  She climbed out of the pit as gracefully as she could in a straight-fitting skirt. "Why do I get the feeling I just wandered into the fun house?"

  His smile widened. "I don't know. Are yo
u having fun?"

  She didn't know how she felt. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweating, and she felt really warm.

  "You've grown up nicely," Michael said, his gaze traveling down her body. "Still blond, but I think I miss the long, thick braid and the glasses that made you look so smart and intimidating."

  She certainly looked better now than she had in high school, and there was a little part of her that liked the gleam of appreciation in his eyes. "Contacts and a new hair stylist," she said. "Time has been good to you, too." He definitely looked attractive in his dark jeans and light blue button-down shirt. "I have to admit I never thought I'd see you again."

  "I recently came back to Northern California."

  "Are you living here in Sacramento?"

  "No, I have a place in Berkeley. What about you?"

  "San Francisco. My parents are still down in Palo Alto, in our old neighborhood." She paused. "Your folks sold their house after we got out of high school, didn't they? I wondered what happened to them."

  "They got divorced. My dad moved back east, first to Minneapolis, then Miami and more recently Denver. My mom ended up in Colorado. That house in Palo Alto was the one they owned the longest—five years."

  "I didn't realize they'd divorced. Sorry."

  He shrugged, then tilted his head, giving her a thoughtful look. "You don't happen to be in Public Relations, do you?"

  "As a matter of fact, yes."

  "Just like your father." He nodded. "I should have put the two together. But when Mr. Hayward mentioned Damien, Falks and Palmer, I assumed it was your dad."

  "My father recently retired."

  "So you work for his company now, and you're going after the Playworld account?"

  She frowned, her stomach tightening again. "Yes. How did you know that?"

  "I'm your competition."

  "You're a football player," she said, shaking her head.

  "I was a football player." Shadows filled his gaze. "I wrecked my knee last year and had to reinvent myself."

  "In Public Relations?" she asked in surprise and dismay. "Why?"

  "My older sister Erica has a small firm and suggested I join forces with her. I didn't have a lot of other options, so I said yes."

  "Well." She didn't know what else to say. She was still reeling from not only the fact that she was standing really close to him, but also because he appeared to once again be her competitor. "Playworld is a big account. If your firm is small, you won't be able to handle the business."

  "I can handle anything," he said with his usual confidence. "And frankly, I think Playworld would prefer working with an imaginative, creative PR firm that didn't start in the dark ages."

  "And I think Playworld would prefer working with a firm that knows how to run a huge campaign," she retorted.

  He smiled. "This takes me back to high school when you and I were both running for student body president."

  She didn't care for the reminder, especially since Michael had won. "This isn't high school, nor is it a game."

  "Life is a game, Lizzie."

  "Liz," she corrected. "And I'm sure you and I aren't the only competitors."

  "No, but we're probably the top two."

  "You have an ego that doesn't quit. My firm has been in business for forty years, Michael."

  "I know. That's why I referenced the dark ages. But it doesn't matter how you start or how hard you play, it only matters how you finish."

  "Is that a football metaphor?"

  "It's a fact. And I'm glad your firm is my rival. I like to know my competition."

  She shook her head against that assumption. "You don't know me. It's been nine years since we've seen each other. We've both changed."

  "Probably. It will be interesting to see how we compete now that we're no longer teenagers."

  Knowing that Michael Stafford was going to be her competition did not make her as happy as it apparently had made Michael. Past experience told her that whenever Michael was around, things usually didn't go the way she had planned. But this wasn't school anymore, this was business—and her job was on the line.

  She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I'd better find Mr. Hayward. It was nice to see you again, Michael."

  "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

  She had the terrible feeling he was right.

  * * *

  As Liz disappeared into Charlie Hayward's office, Michael blew out an amazed breath. Lizzie Palmer—what an unexpected surprise.

  Over the years, he'd often wondered what had happened to his female nemesis, the only girl in school who had made him mad as hell and just as hot. There was no reason she should have gotten him that worked up. She wasn't his type at all. She wore thick glasses, pulled her hair back in a braid, and she'd had braces on her teeth for most of the four years they'd been in school together.

  As the high school quarterback, he'd had his pick of the pretty, popular girls, but damn if he hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about pulling off Liz's glasses and kissing the hell out of her smart mouth. He had tried to kiss her once, and she'd hit him so hard she'd broken his nose.

  He shook his head at the memory. This potential job was getting more interesting by the minute.

  In truth, he wasn't as confident about getting the account as he'd let on to Liz. He was still learning the PR game, and there was a big part of him who thought his older sister had bit off more than she could chew by opening a firm with only a few years of experience under her belt. But Erica had pulled him out of a dark place by inviting him to be her partner, and he had always liked a challenge. Maybe his dream hadn't been to run a PR firm, but sometimes dreams died.

  Shaking off the gloomy thought, he walked down the hall and out of the building, then took out his phone. Erica was waiting for a report. If they could snag the Playworld account, they'd be set. They could hire more people, invest in bigger office space, really build up the firm, but first, they had to win over Charlie Hayward, and that might just take a Hail Mary.

  One advantage he had was that Charlie was a big football fan, and he liked the idea of a celebrity leading the charge for his amusement park. That was one advantage Michael had over the other firms, and he intended to use it.

  "How did it go?" Erica asked as she picked up the phone.

  "Not bad. Hayward spent a lot of time talking about some of my big plays."

  "That's good news. Live off the glory days as long as you can, Michael. Did you find out who we're competing with?"

  "Hayward didn't tell me, but I ran into one of our rivals on my way out the door, Liz Palmer from Damien, Falks and Palmer."

  Erica groaned. "Really? I didn't think they'd go for an amusement park. It's not really their style."

  "They'll change their style for a multi-million dollar account."

  "Who did you say was representing them?"

  "Liz Palmer."

  "Didn't you—"

  "Go to high school with her? Yes. Her dad was one of the founding partners of the firm, and from what I know of Liz, she's going to fight hard to get this account. That woman does not know how to quit."

  "But you know how to beat her, right?"

  He thought about that for a second. "I used to have a good idea of her weaknesses, but we're not in high school anymore."

  "Then it may be time to renew your friendship."

  "I wouldn't say we had a friendship. We were more enemies than anything else. At any rate, Charlie wants me to get up close and personal with his amusement park. I'm going to need to spend the next few days riding every ride in the park."

  "Well, it's a tough job, but someone has to do it," she said dryly.

  "You could have made the pitch with me."

  "No, you're our front guy. You're good at meetings, I'm better at the actual work."

  "I'll be back in the office in a couple of hours, and we'll go over our strategy. I really want to get this account, Erica."

  "It would be a tremendous win," Erica
agreed.

  As he hung up the phone, he couldn't help thinking that Liz Palmer had always brought out the best in him, pushed him harder than he pushed himself. Beating her would make the win that much sweeter.

  * * *

  "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Liz asked, realizing she'd lost track of what Charlie was saying. Her mind had drifted back to the unexpected meeting with Michael. She could not let him distract her.

  Charlie Hayward gave her a contemplative look. "Something on your mind, Miss Palmer?"

  "No. I just want to make sure I know exactly what you want."

  "What I want is for you to get to know my amusement park—ride every ride, eat at every concession, visit every gift shop and exhibit. Only then, will I trust you to put together a promotional plan. You know I built this place for my wife. We dreamed up this park when we first got married, and it took us forty years to make it happen."

  The passion he had for his park was evident in his voice and in his brown eyes. Charlie was in his mid-sixties, balding and freckled from the sun, his waist showing a beer gut, but right now he looked like a kid in a candy store. She was touched by his commitment to a dream he'd had his entire life. How many people worked that hard and that long to make something amazing happen?

  "We want to see the park packed by Memorial Day weekend," he continued. "That gives you a little over six months to make sure the world knows the kind of magic we have here."

  She was happy that he was gearing up for the next summer season. While Internet promotional opportunities were abundant immediately, the more time they had, the more exposure they would be able to get in the print publications. "I completely understand, and I'm excited to put together a campaign for you."

  "Good. As I said before, I want the people who work for me to really understand this place. That didn't happen with the last company we worked with, but I was too busy getting everything working and open that I didn't pay enough attention to what they were doing. That changes now. I want this year to be all about promotion."