Reforming the CEO Page 2

  When Amelie didn’t answer, she added: Where are you?

  And after no response, she typed: Are you safe?

  By the time Reece stepped onto the soft sand, she’d progressed to text number eight: Just tell me you’re alive!

  Even when Amelie disappeared with a guy, she returned Reece’s texts, so after text number nine, Reece morphed into full-blown panic mode, resorting to the absolute rarest of actions—she called Amelie’s number and left a message.

  “Amelie! I can’t believe you ditched me! Are you alive? You better be alive! The last text I got from you was hours ago! Seven o’clock. It’s midnight. Where are you? I’m worried.” She hung up and stared out at the sparkling ocean, only half wondering if she should really be concerned about her friend.

  “It’s only ten.”

  At the low whisper, she whirled around, her heart pounding hard. Of course, it would be him. What had he done? Followed her from the fundraiser? As if that didn’t seem creepy at all, it was completely out of line. He couldn’t just walk out of his own fundraiser—he was the event sponsor, the main attraction. No one would really miss her. All her heavy legwork took place before the event. He was supposed to be there to accept accolades and checks.

  No way in any scenario was Vincent Ferguson supposed to be standing on the beach looking recklessly sexy and challenging her time-guessing skills.

  With a more clipped tone than she meant to use, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  His hands dove into his pockets, and he shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. A breeze from the ocean caught the top of his thick hair and tousled it. “It’s dark. You’re alone. I thought it best to make sure you got home safe.” He nodded down the beach, and Reece took in the scene. A couple beach parties, some panhandlers, and several groups of rowdy guys. She’d never felt not safe in South Beach, but then again, she usually paid closer attention to her surroundings.

  It was oddly caring for a man known to blast his rock music way past her bedtime. Which reminded her of all the babes he brought home.

  “Well, that was—” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down.

  Safe. Home. P.S. It’s only ten.

  He sighed and said, “You’re welcome, Reece.”

  Caught off guard, she glanced back up at him. “My roommate.” She held up her phone. “Amelie Archer.”

  She sent a quick on way back and continued down the path.

  To her delight, and confusion at feeling delight, he matched his strides to hers. “I’m aware who your roommate is. Although I wouldn’t expect an Archer to need a roommate.”

  Neither did a Rowe, but he probably already thought that as well. “She doesn’t, but we’ve been roommates all through high school and college. After living separately for a couple years in grad school, we decided last year to buy a place and share.”

  Living alone wasn’t the great big adventure everyone made it out to be. Living alone, especially when there wasn’t a guy in the picture, was lonely. Not that she needed to share that with the neighbor she barely knew. But shuffling through the sand in the moonlight reminded her it had been awhile since she’d shared anything with any man. Still, she wasn’t ready for another round on the dating circuit. Not after the last failed relationship.

  She heard the satisfaction in his tone when he said, “It was a great time to buy.”

  “You bought as an investment?” At the time, their building had been undergoing renovations and redesigning the amenities, increasing the value of the property.

  From the corner of her eye, she watched his mouth curve in a knowing smile. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Her oldest brother had been the one to point Amelie and her to this particular building. Had his advice been based on investment purposes? With a small laugh, she said, “We didn’t plan it that way, but I suppose that’s what Landon had in mind when he suggested it. It was his idea for Amelie and I to get a place together. To keep an eye on each other.”

  As they continued down the beach, he asked, “Ah, yes. Landon. Is big brother awfully protective of his baby sister?”

  It was an innocent enough question, but one any man who’d ever tried to date Reece knew the answer to. But how would Landon react if she brought Vincent home to family dinner? With a small smile, she said, “I wouldn’t say protective.”

  “No?” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, and the action had her itching to do the same. She wanted to feel his face, to touch him.

  She shot him a playful grin. “No. More like overprotective.”

  He chuckled. “Sounds about right for a big brother.”

  “It can be exasperating, but I guess I’m used to it.” What she wasn’t used to was the confusion warring inside her. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said Landon was overprotective, but she’d left out why—it was more than the big brother gig. Her heart clenched at the sour memory of her last disastrous relationship, and still, despite all the reasons she avoided men like Vincent, she wondered what it would be like to be one of his babes for the night. She’d never had a one-night stand, though, and the neighbor thing could get tricky.

  They stopped under the lamp by their shared gate. As she glanced up at him, she saw a soft—caring?—expression on his face when he said, “Looks like we’re here.”

  “Well, it was…sweet. You, walking me home.” She studied his face, the way he gazed down at her in a way that was caring but also revealed his appreciation of her low-cut dress. Before she could do something stupid, like invite him inside for a drink, he glanced up and waved at someone.

  Amelie leaned on the railing of their balcony, a flute of champagne in one hand, her phone in the other.

  With a casual shrug, he said, “Guess this means good night for us. Unless you’d like to come in for a celebratory nightcap. You threw one hell of an event. And I could give you a tour of my place.”

  His compliment surprised her, and his offer for a nightcap mirrored her own thoughts. But this man—with his babes, beaches, and bars—flashed warning signals. The truth about her oldest brother? She liked Landon’s overprotectiveness, because it kept her safe. She wouldn’t get sucked into another relationship with an emotionally unavailable man. And she knew what would happen if she took Vincent up on the offer of the drink and tour. It would end in his bedroom.

  She shook her head. “I better go check on Amelie.” And then, in some weirdly ingrained polite but spontaneous parting, she reached out and gave him a quick hug. “Good night.”

  Chapter Two

  An early morning run usually cleared Vin’s head before his monthly nine a.m. board meeting. Some people listened to music. He preferred to run without distractions. But even after five miles, a certain brunette clouded his thoughts. When he’d suggested the nightcap, he could almost see her regret when she said no. Could she be interested in him now that he’d made something of himself?

  Bitter memories jackknifed to the surface. Maybe she’d only been five years old, but his humiliation at her disgust over his dirty fingernails still hurt like hell.

  That was the year he’d earned The Rowe Foundation scholarship for the private middle school, and his father had insisted on inviting the Rowe boys to his birthday party. He hadn’t expected them to show, but they had. Landon, Christopher, and Reece, even though her name hadn’t been on the invitation. She’d tagged along with her older brothers, and she’d given him the greatest gift—a remote-controlled monster truck. Most of the other families had given him practical things like socks and school supplies, probably because he was so poor, but she’d given him a completely frivolous and fascinating toy, and his first exposure to technology.

  After he’d reread the card, he’d searched for her among the twenty or so other kids, and she’d jumped up and squealed, clapping her hands. “Do you like it? I chose it all by myself.”

  Like it? He’d loved it. Couldn’t believe this pretty little girl in her frilly dress would pick out such an awesome present. To this day, that gift had
to be the best one he’d ever received. Too bad it was marred with the horrible memory of her humiliating him. When he’d reached out to thank her with a hug, she’d noticed his hands and cringed, visibly wrinkled her nose at him and stepped back, her eyes widening in terror. As if she was afraid of dirt.

  He’d dropped his hands and run into his house, embarrassed and confused and angry at the rejection from a five-year-old girl.

  His mother had been right—the haves and the have-nots might orbit around each other, but they lived in two separate worlds, and he shouldn’t try to cross that line.

  Oh, yes, Reece Rowe had cringed back then, and that thought brought a wicked sense of satisfaction to his ego. Fast forward to Friday night when she’d initiated the hug.

  And brief as the embrace had been, he’d wanted another one. He sucked in more air and increased his pace, letting the realization smack him in the aftermath. He’d spent two decades building a secure financial portfolio, all because of a five-year-old girl’s disdain. He owed his love of technology to her and the remote-controlled monster truck he’d taught himself how to rebuild after it had broken.

  He couldn’t afford to make any uncalculated moves. Especially given all he’d sacrificed to make it to this moment.

  Most days, he couldn’t believe his company had reached the level where investment bankers sought him for strategic technical options. And now—finally—he was ready to take his company public. With the IPO date to be set, he had no room for error. Zero time for distractions. Yet he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to that night. The satisfaction in her expression at seeing the end result of her hard work. For the first time, he glimpsed the girl behind all the glitter, and she’d impressed him. Instead of his cool, unattainable neighbor, she’d seemed real.

  She’d looked approachable, and he’d thought if he could talk to her, he might—what? Tell her how she’d hurt his feelings when he was eleven? Thank her for teaching him to compartmentalize emotion from logic? Admit that because of her spoiled ass, he’d cleaned up real nice?

  “Vin!”

  He glanced over his shoulder and spotted a blonde waving and jogging toward him. “Tami, how are you?”

  “Much better now. I didn’t know you jogged this route.” She tightened her ponytail and smiled up at him.

  “Sometimes.” He made a mental note to switch his routine for tomorrow, though he’d never before run into her so early on a Monday.

  She pulled off her sunglasses. “I love running on Washington Avenue.”

  In her sports top and spandex shorts, he didn’t think she ran for the health benefits. Like most women in his radius, Tami dressed to draw attention to her assets, and as a healthy male, he would not disappoint her.

  With his practiced charm, he said, “And I’m sure Washington Avenue loves to watch you run.”

  She blinked up at him with stunning blue eyes. “I wish you loved to look at me.”

  He sighed. She knew she was hot. She also knew he didn’t do commitment, and still she’d tried. She’d caught him on a first-class flight to Austria a little over two years ago, and though he’d never been a fan of the mile-high club, he wasn’t a stranger to it. But once they’d landed, they’d parted ways, and it wasn’t until she started showing up at the same events as him that he caught on to her motives.

  He kept the practiced smile in place when he said, “Tami, you know what we were.”

  Her lips pursed into a playful pout. “I also know what we could be.”

  He scanned the area and wondered how to extract himself from this situation without breaking into douche mode. “You know I consider us friends.”

  She leaned into him, wrapping her hand around his bicep. “You’re breaking my heart, Vinnie.”

  He hated that nickname. He wasn’t Italian, and the way she sing-songed his name grated on his nerves. That was all he needed to drop any self-imposed politeness. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure there are hundreds of men eager to unbreak it for you.”

  “Dad said you’re gaining momentum on your IPO.”

  Ah. Business. He always did admire a woman who could see straight to his heart. If she’d been hoping to prolong the conversation, it worked. “I am.” Then, with a more genuine grin, he said, “You tell your father that I hope he’ll be one of many to buy when FH goes public.”

  A flirty little sigh escaped from between her glossy lips. “I just wish Dad had the resources to get in on the ground floor with you.”

  Her father had money; nobody argued that. His self-made wealth came from Mexican fast food franchises, but the man wasn’t looking to expand into the technologies industry. His focus had always been on agriculture. Maybe he hadn’t shared that with his daughter. “It was nice seeing you.”

  She stroked one hand down his bicep and shot him a sad smile. “Always nice to see you, too.” With a little wave of her manicured fingers, she took off in the opposite direction.

  He rotated and set a brisk pace toward the beach path, wondering what his hot neighbor was up to this hot morning. His brain kept circling back to Reece, and he couldn’t seem to shake her from his thoughts.

  Not since the fundraiser. Not after he’d seen her enter the room, not since he’d witnessed her stellar event planning capabilities, and definitely not after he’d seen her excuse herself from the group, her dark hair framing a polite smile that dropped as soon as she thought no one could see her. She’d increased her steps, even in those high heels, and the way the dress parted all the way up her thigh had caught his attention.

  But when she’d slowed her steps, seeming defeated in the way her posture switched from purposeful to resigned, he’d acted on impulse. He knew that feeling. Almost as if by leaving she was fleeing some obligation. He’d experienced that dichotomy too often over the years—what he should do versus what he wanted to do. And then her mask had flickered open briefly, and he’d caught a hint of her vulnerability.

  Rounding the final curve of the road, he redirected his thoughts to his vulnerabilities and what awaited him in the office. He had a board meeting in two hours, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t prepared. Running might not have cleared Reece from his mind, but work worked every damn time to rid his brain from unnecessary distractions. And if images of Reece’s bare toes entered his mind while he showered and dressed, well, that was his fault for walking her home after the fundraiser. But no doubt she’d caught his attention, and this wasn’t the time to lose focus.

  Too many people expected him to fail. No way would he prove them right.

  Less than three hours later, Vin found himself wishing for a distraction. What he really wanted was to hit something. Instead, he took a long sip of cool water and wished society found it acceptable to drink something stronger at ten in the morning on a Monday. Okay, so his board meeting hadn’t gone exactly as planned. IPOs could be complicated. The timing depended on a multitude of variables. Uncontrollable variables, like one of his largest investors.

  “It’s just a minor setback.” This came from Fred, a man Vin counted on for sound advice. His chairman had been through the rough patches every step of the way, but this was more than a minor setback.

  Vin fisted his hand. “When an interested investor pulls their financial backing without a sound explanation, I consider that more than a minor setback. This has the potential to be a disaster.”

  Fred shut his padfolio and clasped his hands. “Look, you knew MediApp’s CEO wasn’t exactly your biggest fan, so her pulling out early shouldn’t surprise you.”

  He’d counted on MediApp to help nudge his way into hospitals to launch his new software streamlining prescription tracking. But the CEO had reservations about “getting in bed with him.”

  Fred had sharp instincts and a stellar reputation, which meant…

  “Fred, are you telling me there’s a way for us to get back MediApp’s support?”

  Simon Dimistar, another member of his board, leaned back and folded his hands
over his stomach. “He’s saying that stunt you pulled on Friday derailed her confidence in you. Show her she can trust you, and she’ll be back on board.”

  Stunt? Chairing the fundraising event? Why would that derail a potential investor? Shouldn’t that make her more confident in his commitment to the company and the community? They’d shared one lunch, and at the fundraiser they’d danced once, but he hadn’t gotten any signals she had concerns about the prescription tracking.

  Simon’s grin was more like a sneer. “Who was she? Another model? Or was this one an actress?”

  His gut twisted. Someone had seen him leave with Reece? How? It wasn’t like they’d left out the front door together.

  Fred frowned. “Doesn’t matter who she was. What matters is that people question your ability to put business before pleasure, which didn’t happen Friday night.”

  Really? The men around his boardroom table nodded, but they’d never expressed concern over his personal life before. Like the time he’d missed a Monday meeting because he’d needed one more day skiing at Lake Placid. Or when he’d been a no-show for a cybersecurity leadership conference, because he’d been delayed by a very persuasive mountaineer at Rainier Base Camp.

  Vin measured his words carefully as he said, “You’re telling me MediApp’s CEO pulled her support because of my reputation?”

  It made no sense. No financial sense, anyway. Never mind that he’d worked his ass off to build something from nothing. His business reputation was flawless.

  Fred shot him a what can you do look. “You need to show MediApp that FH and you are respectable. One and the same. You are the company.”

  What his board didn’t understand was that he didn’t need to show anyone anything. Fred was right. This was his company. His IPO. His dream. And he wouldn’t allow some snobby CEO to cower him into complacency in order to gain her support.

  He glared at his board. “I stepped out to have quick word with the event chairperson. I apologize to you if my actions were misconstrued, but I’m not interested in getting MediApp back onboard. We’ll find another investor.”