Steal My Heart (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) Page 12

  He'd hurt her with the accusation.

  Sighing, he hit his fist against the steering wheel. How the hell had the evening gone from great to terrible so fast? He always seemed to screw things up with Liz. And that bothered him because she was important. She mattered. She always had. She'd stuck in his head all the years they'd been apart.

  He could barely remember the other women he'd dated. They'd all been attractive, fun, ready for a good time, and he'd had a lot of good times, but none of those women had ever challenged him in the way Liz did. No one had ever brought out the side of him that she did, the side that was more serious, that wanted to make something of his life.

  He had been making something of his life, but now he was starting over. And each new step he took forward now seemed more uncertain than the last.

  So he wouldn't take any steps for the rest of the day; he'd just drive. And think. And think some more.

  By the time he arrived at Liz's parents' house in Palo Alto he was tired of the thoughts rolling around in his head and more than happy to get out of the truck. He rang the bell and a moment later, Liz's mom opened the door.

  She gave him a happy smile of surprise. "Michael. I didn't expect you." She looked past him. "Is Liz with you?"

  "No, she's not. I brought something for Ron. I was at the Blackhawks game last night, and my friend Keith Saxton signed a jersey and a hat for him. He wrote a little message, too."

  "Oh my goodness. That is so wonderful and amazing. Ron loves Keith Saxton. He's one of his favorite players—well, after you, of course."

  He smiled as she quickly backtracked. "You don't need to explain. I'm not a player anymore."

  "Well, come on in."

  "I don't want to disturb him."

  "You won't be. He's just reading some book about World War Two. I know he'd love the company."

  "Sure." He followed her into the house and down the hall to the family room.

  Ron looked up and quickly brought his recliner into a sitting position. "Hello, Michael."

  "Hi. I was at the Blackhawks' game last night. I brought you these." He handed the hat and jersey to Ron and then sat down on the couch.

  "Are you kidding?" Ron asked in amazement.

  "Saxton wrote a note to you," Joan added.

  "Stay strong. We're rooting for you," Ron read. He cleared his throat and looked back at Michael. "This is great. Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  "Can I get you something to drink, Michael?"

  "No, I'm fine."

  "I'll let you two chat," Joan said.

  As Joan left the room, Michael turned back to Ron. "What did you think of the game last night?"

  "I think they miss you as quarterback. The defense is on the mark, but the offense barely pulled it out. If it hadn't been for that penalty in the fourth quarter, the outcome could have been different."

  "Absolutely, they dodged a bullet."

  Ron tilted his head, giving him a thoughtful look. "Do you miss it, Michael?"

  "More than I ever thought I would," he admitted. "Football was my life for a long time. I woke up thinking about plays and went to bed thinking about plays. I almost hated to sleep."

  "That's what it takes to be good at something. You have to want it bad. Have you ever thought about coaching?"

  His gaze narrowed. "Did Liz talk to you?"

  "About what?" Ron asked, a question in his eyes.

  "Nothing." He ran a hand through his hair, then said, "I have recently been considering the idea of coaching. The past year I thought it would be easier for me to be done with football in every possible way. Now, I'm not so sure."

  "You're a young man. You have a lot of life to live. You lost the ability to play the game you loved on a professional level, but there's something else you're going to love doing. You just have to figure out what that is. The most important thing is to do whatever you do well, put your heart and soul into it. Sometimes, we end up in careers we never imagined. You'd be surprised what can get your heart pumping. It's not always what you expect."

  "Did that happen to you? Did you end up in a career you hadn't planned on?" he asked curiously.

  "Sure. What little boy dreams of running a PR company? I wanted to be a football player, too, but I just wasn't good enough. I played high school ball and that was it. Then I went into music. I started playing the drums for my friend's band. By the time I was out of college, I was playing gigs all around Los Angeles."

  "I had no idea," he said in amazement.

  "Music was a blast, but I was smart enough to know it didn't pay the bills. That's when I started thinking about a real job. I interned at a media company and found out I was great at marketing, visualizing promotions and figuring out what would persuade someone to buy something. And that's how I got into PR. I built a great company."

  "You certainly did that. And now Liz is following in your footsteps."

  "It was great when Liz came into the company. She became my sounding board, the one person I could really trust. And she was as good as I was."

  As Ron spoke, Michael wondered if Ron had ever realized just how determined Liz was to save his company for him.

  "Liz told me she's working hard to make partner."

  Ron frowned. "Yeah, but she has an uphill battle in front of her. I know she loves a challenge, and she's as stubborn as they come, sometimes a little too stubborn. I wish—"

  "Michael?" Liz interrupted. "What are you doing here?"

  Michael turned around to see Liz standing in the doorway, anger in her eyes. "I brought your father the jersey and the hat," he explained.

  "Oh. I forgot I left them in your truck."

  "I was down this way anyway. Why aren't you at work?"

  "Yes, why aren't you at work?" Ron echoed.

  "I wanted to talk to you, Dad." She walked across the room and kissed her father on the forehead. "How are you feeling today?"

  "I'm doing all right. It's nice to have so much company. What did you want to talk to me about?"

  Liz glanced at Michael.

  "Do you want me to go?" he asked.

  She hesitated, then shrugged. "It doesn't matter." She turned her gaze back to her father. "I have to tell you something, Dad. Brian was made partner today. Apparently, he brought in Triple Media Threat over the weekend. Even if I get Playworld, I probably won't get a partnership until next year."

  "Really? I'm sorry to hear that."

  "I didn't even know we were going after Triple Media. They've really kept me out of the loop."

  "Well, what can you do?" Ron said, disappointment in his weary eyes.

  "Maybe Bill and Howard will change their minds when they see the dollars coming in for Playworld. If I get it, of course," she added, giving Michael a quick glance. "That's still to be determined."

  "I'm going to take off," Michael said, not wanting to get in the middle of their private conversation.

  "No need to rush off," Ron said quickly.

  "I have an appointment," he said.

  "Thanks again for the jersey and the hat."

  "I'm glad you like them." He got up and shook Ron's hand.

  "I'll walk you out," Liz said, surprising him with the offer.

  They didn't speak until they got to his truck. Then Liz surprised him again.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "For what exactly?"

  "For what I said last night. Sometimes when I start to feel backed into a corner, I come out swinging."

  He smiled. "Both literally and metaphorically."

  "You're never going to forget that, are you?"

  "I'm reminded every time I look in the mirror."

  "Anyway—"

  "Why did you feel backed into a corner?" he interrupted. "We were just talking."

  "I think it was looking at the yearbook that triggered my insecurity. I started remembering how you always beat me, and I had a little panic attack."

  He appreciated how candid she was being. "I get it. I should apologize,
too."

  "No, you were right, Michael. Everything you said about me was true. I can't save my dad's life, so I'm trying to save his company, but the truth is I can't do that, either. I saw that today. I'll never be able to get the power that he had."

  "Maybe that's all right, Liz. Some things run their course. Careers change. Your dad was just saying that to me."

  She gave him a quizzical look. "What do you mean? What were you talking about?"

  "We were talking about football, and he mentioned that he once wanted to play, then realized he wasn't good enough. Then he tried music and realized he still needed to make money. So he found something he was really good at, but it wasn't what he imagined. He told me I should keep my mind open."

  She stared back at him, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

  "What?" he asked.

  "I forgot that my dad used to drum. He used to play when I was little, but then he got so involved in building his company, he let that go."

  "He found a new dream."

  "I guess he did."

  Her gaze met his, and his gut tightened. He felt such an emotional pull towards her. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and comfort her after what had obviously been a bad morning, but in her eyes, he was the enemy. He really wanted another title.

  "Michael." She said his name with a breathless murmur, then gave a helpless shake of her head. "I don't know what we're doing."

  "We're just standing on a sidewalk."

  "I know, but—"

  "But it's what is going on in your head that worries you."

  "Exactly."

  "I don't have any answers," he admitted. "I think we're good together, but there's always something between us, something to win, something to lose… Until that changes—"

  "We just stand on the sidewalk," she said.

  "Well, at least we know we can finish each other's sentences," he said lightly.

  His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, seeing a text from Erica. She had a new idea she wanted to run by him. "I better take this."

  "Of course. Thanks for bringing the jersey down. That was really thoughtful of you, Michael."

  "It wasn't a big deal. I guess I'll see you at Playworld. May the best man—or woman—win."

  Chapter Fourteen

  By late Wednesday afternoon, Liz wasn't thinking so much about winning as about quitting. After sending her proposal to Brian and the other partners, she'd received a detailed critique of just about every aspect of her plan. It was clear that no one had any confidence in her, and now she was having a few doubts herself.

  After she'd left Michael yesterday, she'd gone back into her parents' house and asked her dad to tell her about his music career again. She'd spent the afternoon with her mom and dad, laughing and listening to their stories—stories she'd heard dozens of times before, but somehow she'd forgotten most of them. In fact, listening to her dad talk about his dream of making the cover of Rolling Stone had made her realize that he had had other passions besides this company.

  Which got her to thinking…

  Michael had asked her if she was planning to spend her whole life walking in her dad's footsteps.

  Brian had told her she thought just like her dad, but that was old-fashioned thinking. She needed to become more cutting-edge.

  Bill and Howard had made her feel like the uninvited guest at a very long birthday party.

  So what the hell was she fighting for?

  She'd thought saving her dad's company would make him happy, give him something to smile about, but the truth was the happiest she'd seen him in recent months had been Sunday when they'd all watched football together as a family and yesterday when he'd told her about his life as a drummer.

  Had the company become less important in his mind now that he's retired, and she'd somehow missed that?

  She frowned at the thought. She hadn't made up his desire to have her protect his interests, but maybe they were both starting to realize that they couldn't hang on to a past that was in truth already gone.

  She pushed aside Brian's notes and pulled the sketches of Playworld out of her bag. As she looked at her drawings, she suddenly knew exactly what she had to do.

  * * *

  Michael got to Playworld thirty minutes before his presentation on Thursday was scheduled to begin. He had a slide show ready to go on his laptop, and he'd gone over strategy with Erica and Kent long into the night. He was ready to make his pitch. More than ready. He felt the excitement he normally felt before a football game, and Liz's dad's words rang through his head. You'd be surprised at what can get your heart pumping.

  He was surprised. He'd taken the job with Erica because he honestly hadn't known what else to do and at that point in his life, any job was as good as another. With football off the table, what did it matter what he did?

  But it did matter. He didn't want to just mark the days off the calendar. He wanted to live his life, and whatever he was going to do, he wanted to do it well.

  He glanced down at his watch, thinking Liz was probably on her way.

  He hadn't talked to her since he'd left her at her father's house on Tuesday afternoon. There was nothing more to say until they got this damn competition out from between them. Then he was going to have a lot to say. Unfortunately, what he said would depend on the outcome of this pitch.

  If Liz lost, she'd take it hard and probably blame him for ruining her life, but he'd never thrown a game, and he wasn't going to start now. He also knew that Liz didn't want to win by default. She wanted to beat him, and if she did, he'd be the first to congratulate her.

  A woman's voice rang out, and he got to his feet. Christa came through the double doors leading into the executive offices. She appeared quite happy. Maybe this competition wasn't just between him and Liz.

  "It looks like things went well," he said, noticing that not only had Christa brought some poster boards with her, she was also showing off a lot of cleavage. He couldn't blame her for using every weapon she had. Unfortunately, that weapon was not in his arsenal.

  "It went amazingly well," she said. "Charlie is such a flirt. I think he'd really enjoy working with me."

  "I imagine a lot of men would like working with you," he said dryly.

  "You could always jump ship and join my firm. We could be good together—both in and out of the office."

  "That's a tempting offer, but I'm happy where I am."

  "Well, good luck. You're going to need it."

  "Mr. Stafford?" the receptionist said. "You can go in now."

  He nodded and grabbed his materials. He felt like he was going into the playoffs and sudden death. He had one play. Win or lose, there wasn't going to be a second chance.

  * * *

  Liz felt a lot more relaxed for her second meeting at Playworld than she had for the first, which was surprising, since today was going to determine her future for at least the next year. Instead of grimacing at the childlike atmosphere, she embraced it, talking back to the talking chair and enjoying a fun puzzle on the table in front of her. She wasn't going to stress over her pitch. She knew what she had to do. She had it under control, and it was the first time in a very long time that she'd felt that way.

  She looked up as Michael came through the doors. He looked confident but also tired.

  His expression brightened when he saw her. "Lizzie."

  The nickname only made her smile. She felt more like Lizzie now than she had last week. "Did you knock his socks off?"

  "I made my pitch. He seemed receptive, excited at times, but Charlie doesn't give much away. He's definitely listening to every detail though."

  "I'm sure you did a good job, Michael. You always do." She took a deep breath. "I guess it's my turn."

  "I'm going to wait for you."

  "Really?" she asked, surprised by the offer.

  "Yes. I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you. You gave me a rain check, remember?"

  "All right. You've got a deal."

  "
And whatever happens—"

  "Will happen," she finished.

  He grinned. "I was going to say that. You know, you seem remarkably calm."

  "I had an epiphany yesterday."

  "Care to share?"

  "Not right now. I better go."

  "Watch out for the quicksand, Lizzie."

  "Don't worry. I know exactly where to step."

  * * *

  While Liz was making her pitch, Michael headed out to the parking lot to drop off his computer and presentation materials. Then he grabbed a coffee on his way back into the park and sat down on a bench outside of the castle. He pulled out his phone to call Erica, knowing she was eagerly awaiting the results of his meeting.

  "Tell me it was good, Michael," she said, not bothering to start with hello.

  "It was good. Charlie liked a lot of our ideas. However, he did question the ability of our young firm to reach the national media."

  "But we have your connections."

  "Which are primarily in sports."

  "Do you think it's going to be a deal breaker?"

  "I honestly don't know. Charlie and I had a great talk. I understand his vision and how he wants to present himself to the world, and I think we can do a great job for him. But I didn't see the other presentations so I have no idea what we're up against."

  "Can you get any information out of Liz?"

  "I'm not going to ask her. It doesn't matter what she thinks anyway. It's all up to Charlie."

  "Okay. Thanks for all your hard work, Michael. We wouldn't have even been invited to pitch if Charlie hadn't been intrigued by you, so you got us in the door. Whatever happens next, I'll know we did our best. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  "See you then." He blew out a breath. Then he dialed another number. "Hank, it's Michael. Call me back when you get a chance. I've made a decision."

  He sat down on the bench and opened up his emails. He might as well work on some of the other projects Erica had assigned to him.

  An hour later, Liz walked out of the castle. Relief flitted through her eyes when she saw him.