âGeneva. How long has it been?â
What game was he playing? âYou know as well as I do how long.â
Michael looked steady and thoughtful, but that didnât fool her. His jaw muscle tightening was a clue.
âOh, you mean the wedding,â he said. âThe one where you left me at the altar.â
She winced. How simple he made it sound. But it hadnât been simple, and seeing him again dredged up all the painful feelings that had compelled her to leave him that day.
Oh, heâd been willing to go through with the weddingâbecause heâd given his word. But Geneva had wanted more than just willing. She wanted loveâthe head-over-heels kind. The kind that could make a marriage work.
The kind this man couldnât give her.
PICTURE him naked.
Geneva Porter was familiar with the technique public speakers used to calm nerves, but it wouldnât work for her. This wasnât public. She wasnât speaking. And sheâd already seen Michael Sullivan naked.
However hot the memory, seeing the sexy Mr. Sullivan without his clothes was partially responsible for the disastrous series of events that had landed her right here, right nowâwaiting to see him and find out if she was Las Vegasâs latest events planner without a job.
Unemployment would be bad. Seeing Michael Sullivan again⦠It was going to be very bad.
But he was her boss as of a week ago when his deal to buy this hotel finalized. One by one heâd met with the existing managers. Now it was her turn. Time to get it over with and brazen out their first meeting since⦠Well, since sheâd last seen him. On the bad scale, that time had been off the chart.
Taking a deep breath wouldnât help but she took one anyway as she knocked sharply on his door and let herself in. It was a spacious corner office with two sets of floor-to-ceiling windows, giving him two different and fabulous views of the Las Vegas Strip, Bellagio on one side, Caesarâs Palace on the other. Michael was sitting behind his desk oozing power and charisma.
âHello, Michael.â One look into his dark eyes dropped her stomach like the Insanity ride on top of the Stratosphere. Her heart pounded and her hands shook. âYou look great.â
How stupid did that sound? This was worse than bad.
Sheâd met him over a year ago when heâd started the process of buying this property. He hadnât changed a bit. He looked just as handsome, with his dark hair and a face that was all lean angles. But it was his smile that sheâd fallen in love with and she wasnât seeing it now.
âGeneva.â His eyes narrowed and a muscle jumped in his jaw. âHow long has it been?â
What game was he playing? âYou know as well as I do how long.â
He looked steady and thoughtful but that didnât fool her. The jaw muscle tightening again was a clue.
âOh. You mean the wedding,â he said.
âOf course thatâs what I mean.â
âThe one where you left me at the altar.â
She winced. How simple he made it sound. How easily he said the words. But it hadnât been simple or easy and seeing him again dredged up all the painful feelings that had compelled her to leave him that day. She feared making a mistake, a mistake too much like her parents had made by marrying each other. Feared that Michael had never loved her, that heâd proposed only because sheâd been pregnant with his child, a baby sheâd miscarried in the first trimester.
Heâd been willing to go through with the weddingâbecause heâd given his word. But, Geneva wanted more than just willing. She wanted loveâthe head-over-heels kind. The only kind that could fill the emptiness in her soul for the baby sheâd lost. The only kind that would make a marriage work.
Brushing nonexistent lint from the skirt of her black suit, she said, âAbout the weddingââ
He held up a hand to stop her. âThatâs not why I called you in.â
âBut itâs why youâre going to fire me.â
One dark eyebrow rose. âWhy would I do that?â
She badly wanted to say âduh.â Instead she put as much sass as possible into the look she shot him. âMaybe because I left you at the altar?â
âThat was a year ago.â
As if she didnât know. âSo youâre over it?â