One Blazing Night. Jo Leigh
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at MIT?”
“Yep. Same sweatshirt.”
“That’s my girl.” This time Matt’s laugh put her on edge. She felt like that socially inept teenager he’d befriended a lifetime ago. “Okay, I’ll let you get back to work,” he said. “Let me know about the apartment.”
“Will do.”
After they disconnected, she put her cell phone back where it belonged, picked up her iPod and changed the music to Led Zeppelin.
The pounding drumbeat synced to her thudding heart. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t. God. But what if...?
* * *
MATT DRANK IN the sight of the New York City skyline, and as always, he lingered on the Chrysler Building, his favorite. It was a clear fall night, and from his twenty-fourth-floor penthouse, everything looked the way it did in the movies. His trip to Asia had lasted two long months but was well worth it. He’d negotiated a nice purchase price for an international hotel chain, Voyager Hotels. It was a big win for Wilkinson Holdings and for him personally. He needed all the points he could get with the board meeting coming up. It was time for him to take the next step up the ladder, which meant taking charge of the London office. Since WH was a family business—his family’s—there were people on the board who believed every victory of his was somehow manipulated by his father and two uncles.
Even with all the politics that came with being in-house counsel for a top-100 company, he wouldn’t change anything. Well, except for that London gig. He wanted that. Enough to play the game the way his father had taught him.
But right now it felt great to be home. It also felt great to be alone. He needed to relax for the next couple of days, get over the jet lag before he went to Boston and made nice at the corporate office. The company’s annual gala for the Boston Children’s Hospital was coming up—a great cause but always a chore. Two days after the fund-raiser was the annual board meeting.
He’d much rather think about his upcoming mini vacation. Although Boston was really home. He’d been born and raised in Beacon Hill. Gone to two universities in Cambridge, had a lot of friends who lived in the city.
The only one he cared to see this time was Sam. She’d been on his mind since he’d heard from his buddy Logan McCabe. He and Logan both lived in New York but rarely saw each other, with Matt’s crazy travel schedule. But as soon as Logan had told him about the smart apartment and Sam, that was it. Matt had picked up the phone and she’d answered, and it was like going back in time.
She was terrible on the phone. Always had been. But it had been great to hear her voice. Logan had said she’d stepped up her game when it came to the business and was still a workaholic. Matt had known from their first few conversations at MIT that she was going to play in the big leagues one day.
He’d seen a couple of pictures of her online, neither of which had been very good. It seemed she was still camera shy, mainly because of her freckles, he imagined. She’d always hated them. There was just a spray of them across her nose, but she thought they made her look hideous. That and her copper penny–red hair.
She’d tried dyeing it black once. What a nightmare that had been. Goth and Sam did not go together. She was far too earnest and far too sensible to fall in with a crowd that demanded such conformity. Eventually, her hair had grown out and the nose ring had disappeared. He wondered if she still had that row of piercings climbing up the outer shell of her left ear.
Damn, he was anxious to see her. After he’d graduated and moved out of the house the gang had shared off campus, he hadn’t spoken to Sam but for a couple of times. Then he’d started law school and she was working on her second master’s, and with their hectic schedules the communication had dwindled to a few texts here and there, mostly around the holidays and special occasions. Once he’d married Vanessa, he and Sam had stopped texting.
He wasn’t sure why, but for his part it had felt like the right thing to do, even though Sam wasn’t a romantic interest. Hell, she was five years younger than he was and so much smarter that there was no chart for it. Not that he was a lightweight, because goddamn Harvard Law Review his second year. But she was made of different stuff.
Back at MIT they’d bonded over computer games and insomnia, right along with Logan and Rick, who’d also lived at Randall Hall, and the four of them had become thick as thieves. They had all felt somewhat protective of Sam. She might have been smart enough to take on Hawking, but she hadn’t been quite old enough to navigate university life on her own. So the guys had kept their eye on her in the dorm and had even run interference a few times on campus. One particular incident still made him wince and smile at the same time. It had ended with him getting a hell of a shiner.
Sometimes he’d wondered if Sam felt that talking to him, to the three of them, was like talking to a pet. She’d never implied that she felt she was intellectually above them, but none of the rest of them had been able to understand the complexity of her studies. They hadn’t had to. They hadn’t cared about her grades, her habits, any of that. The four of them had laughed a lot. Watched a lot of weird movies. Played a lot of computer games. She always said they made her feel normal. Well, normal-ish.
He couldn’t wait to see her.
He’d had a beer with dinner, but now it was time for a little Johnnie Walker Black. Nightcap of champions.
Matt’s bones ached and he had that plane smell on him. He’d let the scotch settle him down, have a long hot shower, then hit the sheets.
But as he sipped his drink, another memory, not a great one, stirred. Like so many college kids, he’d done his share of foolish things, made a few reckless choices, engaged in some risky behavior that would’ve stunned anyone who knew him now. He wasn’t proud of any of it, but that night long ago when he’d messed up with Sam was the worst. The truth was, things had changed after that. He’d learned a lot about the wisdom of sobriety that night. That was all in the past, though, and now he’d have a chance to get to know her again. At least, he hoped so. She’d sounded a little reluctant. But then, with Sam it was hard to tell for sure. He’d forgotten just how much she disliked talking on the phone.
Picturing her with the stupid nose ring, he smiled. Seeing her again and catching up was going to be pure, uncomplicated fun.
SAM LEANED AGAINST the wall, staring out the window of the smart apartment from an angle so Matt couldn’t see her when he finally arrived.
If he arrived. But of course he was coming, because he’d said so. She’d hate to think she’d gone through the crazy whirlwind of deciding what to wear for nothing. Good Lord, she must’ve tried on everything in her closet, avoiding the sweatshirts, T-shirts and leggings that made up most of her wardrobe. She wanted to look good for Matt. But the few dresses she owned for wearing to conferences and business meetings made her feel like an impostor when she put them on.
So Sam had compromised. Business slacks with her nicest San Diego Comic-Con T-shirt. She’d had the shirt for a long time, but it would be new to Matt. It was blue with long sleeves. She’d tried pushing those up, but her arm freckles made the decision to wear them down very easy. Still, it was a good hair day and she was thankful for small favors.
Now it was all she could do not to run back home and put on a sweatshirt and leggings. What had she been thinking?
Ha. As if she didn’t know. Matt was coming. Today. Any minute. So she could give him the key. Which meant she’d slept like shit. When Clark had offered to give him the key, she’d immediately said no. He’d seemed agitated. Probably because it meant she wouldn’t be working. But screw it. SOC was her company, and she could take a few hours off if she wanted to.
Or maybe Clark wasn’t piqued because she wouldn’t be working but because of why she wouldn’t be working. Did he not like Matt? Huh. She’d have to think about that. Was it because she’d worn her dress pants? Did Clark think she