Steal My Heart (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) Page 11

  "I get it, Liz, I do. I'm amazed by your loyalty to your dad, but I'm concerned about you."

  "I'm fine. I'm tough. I can handle it."

  He smiled at the fierce, protective light in her eyes, and he knew he couldn't change her mind. He just wished she could see the bigger picture. "What happens down the road?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Let's say you do everything you intend to do. You're a partner with your dad's buddies. Is that going to make you happy? You're a creative person. Most importantly, you're your own person, and I don't see you having a good time dancing to someone else's beat."

  "I can be a team player, and I will be happy, because it will make my dad happy. I love him, Michael. I can't do a lot for him, but I can do this. And so I will."

  "Yeah." And now he really understood her motivation. She couldn't heal her dad, but she could make him happy, even if it was at her expense.

  He was glad she'd confided in him, but a part of him also wished she hadn't. Knowing how much the Playworld account meant to her was not going to make it any easier to try to beat her. But he had his own family considerations to worry about.

  "I just hope you're not pinning too much on this one account," he warned. "It's not just me you have to beat; there are two other competitors."

  "I'm not worried about them. I've done some research on both Christa and Ed, and I don't think they can give Charlie what he wants."

  "But you can."

  "I absolutely can."

  "You've never been short on confidence, Liz."

  "You make that sound like an insult."

  "I didn't mean it that way. It's actually a compliment. I learned a long time ago that you can't reach the top unless you believe you can. That's not all of it, of course. Desire, hunger, heart can only take you so far, but without those emotions, you can't get anywhere."

  "That's true. You're a lot more eloquent now than you used to be. I remember when your poster for student body president said: Vote for me, I'm the best."

  He laughed at the memory. "I think some cheerleader made that for me."

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure of that. You always had a lot of help."

  "You had friends who helped you."

  "I did, but they were even less popular than I was, and we all know how popularity drives elections."

  "It pays to be liked," he admitted.

  Her gaze narrowed. "I hope with Charlie it's not going to be just about who's the most fun person or who has celebrity connections. I certainly can't compete when it comes to fame." She paused, licking her lips, a somewhat nervous look in her eyes.

  "What?"

  "I shouldn't say it, but..."

  "But?"

  "I feel like you really want to be in football, Michael. You're torn on the surface but deep down isn't that where your heart is going to take you in the end?"

  "I don't know. Why are we talking about that now?"

  "Because I don't want to lose to someone whose heart isn't in the game I'm playing."

  "Then you'll have to beat me," he returned, her words hitting a little below the belt.

  He realized why she'd suddenly looked nervous. She'd gotten scared. After remembering how many times she'd lost to him, she'd started to worry that this bout with Playworld was going to go the same way, and she should worry, because he was good at closing a deal. "This account is just as important to me as it is to you." He paused. "Tell me something. Why did you really come to the game with me tonight?"

  "I was being a friend."

  "Were you? Or were you trying to see which way I was leaning, maybe even convince me to take myself out of the game?"

  Her eyebrows arched in surprise, but there was also a fleeting hint of guilt in her eyes. "That's not the way it was."

  He didn't believe her. "I thought I could trust you, Liz."

  "Michael, you're getting this all wrong."

  "Am I? Let me ask you something. Are you going to tell Charlie Hayward that I have another job offer?"

  "No," she said quickly.

  "It would probably give you an edge. Even if I denied it, you could raise just enough doubt in his mind to swing things your way." A rush of anger ran through him. He'd been so caught up in Liz, he'd forgotten she was his opponent. And he'd revealed far too much to her tonight. He wouldn't be so pissed off if it was just his account to lose, but his sister also had a lot at stake.

  "I'm not going to tell Charlie anything," Liz said. "I don't need to cheat."

  "Maybe you do," he said, getting to his feet. "Maybe the second you see that you're losing, it will just somehow slip out."

  Anger sparked in her eye as she stood up. "If you didn't trust me, you shouldn't have told me your secret."

  "That might have been a mistake," he conceded.

  "All of this was a mistake," she declared. "I knew the second I saw you that you were going to be trouble, and I was right. I told you from the beginning that we were rivals, and we should not forget that. But you convinced me that we could be friends, too."

  "I didn't have to convince you of anything. You've been attracted to me since you were a teenager."

  "You should go home."

  "I am going home." He grabbed his suitcase, but when he got to the doorway he paused. "Just so you know, when it comes to you and me, sex is never off the table."

  "You're crazy," she declared. "I don't even like you right now."

  "Well, I don't like you much, either. But I still want you and you still want me. And in the end, we're going to do something about it."

  "No, we're not." She walked across the room, pushed him into the hallway and slammed the door.

  It felt very much like the punch to the nose he'd taken all those years ago.

  * * *

  After Michael left, Liz felt incredibly frustrated and worked up. They'd been having a good time and then everything had gone wildly off track. She didn't really know how it had happened. Actually, she did know. She'd gotten super competitive.

  While she would never tell Charlie Hayward about Michael's football opportunities, she had used her knowledge of his other job offer to make him question his intentions. Was that really wrong?

  She was just stating the obvious. If he left his sister's agency to go back to football, then how could he possibly be the right person to run the Playworld account?

  She paced around the room, trying to burn off the rush of adrenaline that was fueled not only by their argument, but also by his distrust of her, and maybe just a little sexual frustration.

  His last comment about sex never being off the table still rang through her head, and as much as she didn't like him right now, her body was singing another restless tune.

  Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. As she reached for it, she thought it might be Michael, but it was a text from Julie asking her if she'd made it onto the roller coaster and if she was still alive.

  She sat down on the couch, her anger dissipating as the reminder of the roller coaster also brought back the memory of Michael holding her hand, talking her through it. Damn him for being a nicer competitor than she was.

  She picked up the phone and called Julie back.

  "Oh, hey," Julie said. "I guess this means you are alive."

  "I am. I made it on the ride."

  "Congratulations. You must feel pretty good about that."

  "I do," she said, her eyes blurring with moisture.

  "You sound funny. What's wrong?"

  She let out a sigh. "I've messed everything up, Julie."

  "What are you talking about—the account?"

  "No, not the account—him."

  "Are we talking about Michael? Oh my God, did you sleep with him?"

  "No, I didn't. But I should have slept with him. Then my mouth might not have gotten me into trouble." She paused. "I think I hurt him."

  "Did you punch him again?"

  Her laugh turned into a sob. "Not literally, but I got too competitive. And I used something he told me again
st him. I don't know why I did it. We were having fun. But then we started talking about the account, and that little beast inside of me came out. I just…" She didn't even know how to explain what she had done. "I just blew it."

  "You like him, don't you?" Julie asked.

  Her hand tightened around the phone. "I do," she admitted. "I think I have all along."

  "I know you have. He only bothered you so much in high school, because you had a big crush on him."

  "But I always knew I could never really have him."

  "I'm coming over," Julie said.

  "You don't have to do that. It's almost midnight."

  "I'll be in there in fifteen minutes. I'll bring ice cream."

  "You're a good friend."

  "You'd do it for me—especially if I'd just realized I'd fallen in love."

  Her stomach turned over at Julie's words. "I'm not in love with him," she said, but Julie had already ended the call. "I'm not in love with him," she repeated. "Am I?"

  Chapter Thirteen

  After talking out her problems with Julie, Liz had finally gone to bed around two. When she got up to go into the office on Tuesday morning she was definitely feeling the effects of a sleepless night. She set her bag on the counter behind her desk, sat down and turned on her computer. While it was starting up, she looked around the room, feeling like she'd been gone for a year instead of a couple of days. The office she'd spent most of her life in for the past year felt strange and unfamiliar. And while normally she'd always been happy to get to work, today she felt restless.

  Forcing those feelings away, she opened the Playworld account on her computer and ordered herself to get to work. She might not know how to handle sexy men, but she did know how to put together a strong PR campaign; her dad had taught her well.

  She started with the basics and then moved into specific campaigns and strategies. As she typed, she could hear her dad's voice in her head, reminding her of what was important and that made her feel even closer to him. She was on the right track, she thought.

  Two hours later, she printed out her proposal and read through it.

  It was good. But it was missing something.

  Now the voice in her head belonged to Charlie Hayward. She could hear his passion as he talked about his dream, about creating a world that changed people's lives, even if only for a day.

  Was she giving him what he wanted?

  Her proposal was solid. It was exactly the kind of pitch that Damien, Falks and Palmer always made and always won. And as she looked at all the different areas of the campaign— promotion, marketing, advertising, media—she knew there was no way the other agencies could match the resources of her company. She felt a renewed surge of confidence that she could bring home a win.

  A knock at her door lifted her gaze. Brian Hargrove stepped into her office. The tall, handsome hotshot always brought a sick, wary feeling to her stomach, and today was no exception. She and Brian had joined the firm at the same time. But at that time, her father had still occupied an office and she'd been the heir apparent. Once her dad had left, Brian had become the boy wonder to Bill Falks and Howard Damien. Only one of them was going to make partner in the next year, and she knew that if she didn't have Playworld in her pocket, it would not be her.

  "How's it going?" Brian picked up the proposal and scanned the first page. "Interesting."

  "It's just preliminary," she said, grabbing the paper out of his hand. "What do you want?"

  "I called you yesterday."

  "I was busy."

  "Well, you should have called me back. I hate to be the one to tell you this, Liz, but there have been some developments since you left the office, and Bill and Howard thought you might receive the information better if it came from me."

  Her stomach twisted into a knot. "Just spit it out, Brian. Judging by the gloating gleam in your eyes, it's something about you."

  "You're not a good loser, Liz."

  "Well, I don't usually lose," she countered. "So I don't have a lot of practice."

  "Looks like you're about to get some practice. I was made partner yesterday."

  She stared at him in shock. "That's impossible. I'm bringing in Playworld, and that's worth millions to this company."

  "Well, you haven't brought it in yet. And this weekend I signed up Triple Media Threat for a five year, multi-million-dollar deal."

  She was truly stunned by his announcement. She had had no idea the huge media company had been in talks with her agency, which just went to show just how far out of the inner circle she was. "I can't believe I didn't know you were going after it."

  "They wanted to work quietly."

  "Who's they?"

  "Triple Media, of course."

  "And Bill and Howard?"

  "They go with the client. You know that."

  "Well…Congratulations." It was hard to get the word out, but what choice did she have? "That's quite a coup."

  "Interesting choice of words."

  "More like accurate," she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.

  "Come on, Liz. This isn't your dad's company anymore. Damien and Falks are moving in a new direction. Your dad was old school. Frankly, in trying to live up to him, you're old school, too."

  "That's not true. My father was a brilliant promotional specialist."

  "Maybe ten years ago, but not now. You have good ideas, but you're afraid to step outside your father's box. Everyone sees that but you. You need to change or you need to move on." He shrugged. "Sorry if that's harsh. But I know you appreciate it when people are direct. Oh, and Bill wants me to review the Playworld pitch before you present."

  "I don't need your opinion. You don't know anything about Playworld."

  "I know how to run a campaign, and I'm a partner, so you don't really have a say, Liz. Email me your presentation. We can talk it over tomorrow."

  She blew out a breath as he left her office, her head spinning. She couldn't believe everything that had happened behind her back. She hadn't known about Triple Media. She hadn't known that Brian was in line for partner. She hadn't known anything. And Bill had stood here in her office on Friday and never said a word.

  Brian had taken the partner spot that she wanted, and there was nothing she could do about it. She sat back in her chair, mulling over what else Brian had said. He'd told her that her ideas were behind the times, but her ideas were solid—weren't they?

  Or was she just following her dad's lead, trying to keep his visions alive, even if they didn't completely make sense anymore?

  She stared down at her presentation notes. And she knew now exactly what was missing—heart, fire, creativity—all the things that Charlie wanted. Her rational voice tried to argue that all that passion was great, but her proposal still needed substance.

  That thought took her back to her conversation with Michael when he'd called himself the flash and her the substance. Was that it? Was she always doomed to be the boring player on a losing side?

  Frowning, she got up and paced around her office.

  And then, she got pissed. Did the partners honestly think she was just going to hand them Playworld on a silver platter and work like a dutiful soldier for people who didn't believe in her anymore?

  Grabbing her bag, she headed out the door. She didn't know the answer to her problems, but she did know one thing. She needed to breathe, to think, to come up with a plan, and she could not take one more second inside the office that had been designed to keep her in her place, to make her feel small. She wasn't small. She was a fighter, and she was not done yet.

  She just had to figure out what she was really fighting for.

  * * *

  Michael spent two hours at the office, long enough to fill in his sister Erica and Kent Richards, another Account Executive, on his assessment of what Charlie Hayward was looking for in the pitch to be made on Thursday. After a long brainstorming session, Erica had told him that she and Kent would come up with campaign plan. Central to that plan wo
uld be using his celebrity contacts in a creative way.

  With that conference over, Michael felt at loose ends. He liked being the front guy, taking the meetings, making the pitch, but the actual work—that was obviously not going to be done by him. Erica seemed good with the division of labor, and he'd been okay with it, too, until now—until he'd talked to Hank, gone to a football game, and let Liz Palmer into his head.

  Too restless to stay in the office, he jumped in his truck and headed out of the city. In his hurry to get the hell away from Liz the night before, he'd forgotten to give her the signed jersey and hat he'd gotten for her dad. But he didn't need to give it to her to deliver; he could take it to Palo Alto himself. A drive would be good for his head, and then he wouldn't have to see her again.

  At least, he wouldn't have to see her until Thursday when there was a very good chance he'd run into her, because his pitch was right before hers.

  After talking to Erica and Kent, he had even more confidence that he could sell their firm to Charlie, because he knew exactly what made the man tick. He was on his way to winning the Playworld account. He should feel good about that.

  But he couldn't help thinking he was going to crush Liz.

  It wasn't like high school when it didn't really matter who ended up homeroom monitor or student body president. Her reasons for needing to win were deep and emotional, and he felt her pain and her terror at the thought of losing her dad, her anchor. He knew that her commitment to her father's firm was more about that than anything else. And he shouldn't have goaded her the night before.

  Not that she hadn't swung right back at him, challenging his motives, his desire to even be in PR, and making him wonder if he was cheating to try to win an account that he probably would only end up doing ten percent of the work on once it came to the agency.

  Damn Liz. She always got under his skin.

  Usually, because she was right.

  Because her words had stung, he'd hit back at her, accusing of her something he knew she'd never do—tell Charlie he had another job opportunity. Liz liked to win, but she didn't play dirty. Not once, in all of their battles, had she ever taken the cheap shot.