Bringing Down Sam Read online

  Sam groaned audibly in disgust. “Sensitive, emotional men? Robbie wants to turn His World into a magazine for wimps?”

  “Not wimps,” Jacob retorted, a hint of disdain in his voice. “Just a different type of man. A man who can shed a few tears at a movie, who admits he needs his mother.”

  Even from the bedroom Eve could hear the choking sounds Sam made as his father continued.

  “A man who drinks champagne instead of beer, and is proud to say he likes the opera, or the ballet.”

  “Oh, God, why don’t you just rename it His Metrosexual World.”

  Eve bit her lip, almost chuckling at Sam’s disgruntled tone.

  “Do you have a better idea, son? Do you want to come in and whip this magazine into shape—make it marketable enough to compete? Just say the word and we’re a team again!”

  From the bedroom, Eve could visualize the expression on Jacob Kenneman’s face. She heard the satisfaction in his voice as he sprang the trap toward which he’d been leading his son. Knowing Sam, he understood that his father was using his own feelings about His World against him. Sheesh, and she thought she was the one with a manipulative father!

  But there’d been something else in the older man’s voice, a hint of tenderness, perhaps just raw emotion, that made her suspect he wasn’t trying to manipulate Sam for the purpose of hurting him. In his own, twisted way, he was doing what he could to restore his relationship with his son. It was a crazy way to do it, and risked antagonizing him more than anything else, but maybe it was a case of desperate times and desperate measures. But she had the feeling Sam was just still too emotionally raw to see the truth behind his father’s actions. Where Eve was beginning to see desperation and love, he would almost certainly see manipulation and control.

  He’d revealed a lot during their conversations. It wasn’t hard to see that Sam had genuine regrets about his relationship with his family—his father, his brother. Despite his anger toward them both, his feelings ran deep. So maybe it was time for Sam to sort out his feelings for the people who had been in his life the longest before he tried to make room for her. And maybe that meant not taking their relationship up to the next level until he had.

  She couldn’t deny she just wanted to get her explanation and apology over with. But she also didn’t want Sam to toss his father out on his ear when he was trying to make amends, just because he knew Eve was waiting in the bedroom.

  “Come on, work with me, son,” his father cajoled.

  Sam didn’t really want to continue arguing with the older man, especially knowing Eve was waiting for him in the other room, probably able to hear every ugly word that was being said. But he couldn’t just pretend this conversation hadn’t happened, or that his father wasn’t making a huge mistake. How could he allow His World to sink? Because the magazine would almost certainly go down the tubes under the inept management of his nice-but-misguided cousin. With the Internet cutting into all print publications, and His World just now starting to make serious inroads with a younger, more technologically hip audience, now definitely wasn’t the time to take a huge step backward in terms of content. It was a disaster in the making. And Sam had too many friends on the staff, and respected the purpose and mission of the magazine too much, to let that happen.

  “You can’t do this,” he insisted.

  His father crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow. “So tell me what I should do instead. Come on, let’s sit down and hash this out like two executives. Tell me what you’d do to make this magazine financially viable again.”

  That sounded like an invitation to do more than take a job, and for a second, Sam was incredibly tempted. Because he did have some ideas—good ones, he thought—and would have, under normal circumstances, with anybody other than his father, liked to share them. Damn, his old man was good at what he did. He knew just what buttons to push, just what carrots to dangle. And while their conversations often left Sam dizzy with the constant game of push-and-pull, usually leaving him in need of an aspirin or an antacid, he couldn’t deny his father was an interesting guy.

  Right now, Sam didn’t want to give his father the satisfaction of caving in to his high-pressure tactics, but he did see the situation as it really was. Jacob Kenneman had bought the magazine, and was a good enough businessman to listen to ideas to make it succeed.

  But talk about your shitty timing.

  Swiping a frustrated hand through his hair, and gazing down the short hallway toward his closed bedroom door, he snapped, “Give me a few minutes to change, then we can go somewhere, grab a cup of coffee and talk.”

  And hopefully Eve would still be here waiting for him when he got back. In bed.

  But before he even had the chance to walk into his bedroom—where he’d almost certainly be tempted beyond belief to crawl into that bed beside her again, his father and the magazine be damned—he saw the closed door open. Eve walked into the room—fully dressed—offering him a reassuring look that said she’d overheard and understood.

  She approached his father. “Hello again, Mr. Kenneman,” she said, smiling brightly, as if she hadn’t heard a word of their heated conversation.

  Jacob looked startled at the interruption. “I didn’t know you had a guest, Samuel.”

  “Why did you think I wasn’t answering the door?” Sam muttered half under his breath.

  “We met last night, didn’t we?” Jacob Kenneman said, turning his full attention toward Eve. To give him credit, he didn’t seem the least bit worried that she’d heard the things he’d said about her. Because his father was always good at playing the gentleman in mixed company and pretending unpleasant things didn’t happen. “Miss...”

  “Barret. But please call me Eve.”

  He nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, of course. Well, please forgive me, Eve, if I’d known Sam had company, I wouldn’t have interrupted.”

  Sam snorted in disbelief.

  “It’s all right, Mr. Kenneman,” Eve insisted. “Sam, I’ve just remembered a previous obligation. I have to go.”

  “No way,” he insisted.

  “Son, Eve wants to leave...” Suddenly the older man’s eyes narrowed, and he stared intently at Eve. “Evie wants to leave,” he muttered softly, so softly Sam almost didn’t hear him.

  But Eve apparently had. Even from a few feet away, Sam saw the color drain from her cheeks. She was pale as a ghost, her eyes so wide they dominated her face. He had no idea what had so startled her, but she suddenly looked like a deer spotlighted in the headlights of an oncoming semi truck.

  “I’ll just call a cab and go wait outside so you can continue your talk with your father,” she mumbled.

  “You’re not taking a cab,” he immediately insisted, thinking he could run her back to the condo, then go talk with his father somewhere, and still get back to take her out to dinner as promised.

  “My driver is downstairs,” his father said, waving an imperious hand. “He can drive Eve home while you and I talk.”

  Sam hesitated, but Eve didn’t, already murmuring her thanks, as if knowing it was the only way Sam wouldn’t insisted on driving her himself. A cab was out of the question…his father’s limo? Well, to be perfectly honest, it wasn’t a bad way to travel.

  “You’re sure?” Sam asked, approaching her, wondering how to say goodbye after the incredible afternoon they’d just shared. Especially how to say it in front of an audience.

  She nodded. “Absolutely. I really do have things to do. Call me later, okay?” He saw by her expression that she was giving him the time he needed to deal with his father. And though it bothered him, a lot, that she was leaving when they obviously had things to discuss—like the sudden change in their relationship—he knew he had been outmaneuvered by both of them.

  “I’ll text my driver and let him know you’re coming down,” his father said, drawing his phone from his pocket.

  His old man texting. Crazy. If he’d been in a laughing mood, that would have drawn at le
ast a chuckle out of Sam’s mouth.

  “Thank you,” Eve said. “It definitely beats a cab.”

  “No, thank you,” his father insisted, a faint smile on his face, even if his tone was a bit cool. “After all, my son can’t ignore me entirely if I’m stranded.”

  “Unless you’ve barricaded the roads with solid gold gates, I think cabs go to your part of town, too,” Sam mumbled under his breath.

  Eve grinned briefly, then ducked her head so his father wouldn’t see.

  “It was nice to see you again, Eve,” his father added, almost sounding like he meant it.

  Sam had to hand it to the old guy. He could be charming when he wanted to be. Sam hadn’t seen that side of him very much lately. Then again, he hadn’t seen much of his father at all.

  “And you,” she replied.

  Sam opened the door and stepped out into the corridor with her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said. “You and your father should really talk. Besides, maybe a time-out is a good idea right now.”

  “Regrets?” he asked, the very word pulling a frown onto his face.

  She shook her head slowly. “No. It was just a little sudden. I think we might need to take a step or two back and have a conversation.”

  That sounded ominous. He tried to lighten the moment. “Gonna tell me you’re really a secret agent, or that you’re on the run from the law? God, please don’t say married!”

  She swallowed so hard her throat visibly quivered. “No. None of the above. It’s just…some air needs clearing before we proceed.”

  “Fair enough.” Then, wanting that shadow of uncertainty gone from her big blue yes, he grinned. “Let’s just call this the seventh inning stretch.”

  She smiled back. “Does that mean there are only two innings left in this game?”

  “Nah, I think it’s gonna be a double header. Or a triple.”

  She tapped the tip of her finger on her cheek. “Hmm. A triple means twenty-seven innings. I think I could go for that.”

  He wagged his eyebrows suggestively. “And just think of all the at-bats.”

  Laughing, as he’d wanted her to, she rose up on tiptoe and brushed her mouth across his. Sam took the opportunity, dropped his hands to her hips and tugged her close to deepen the kiss. Eve parted her lips, letting him dip his tongue against hers for a slow, lazy taste. Then, with a shared sigh, they ended the kiss and stepped apart.

  “I’ll call you later,” he promised.

  “That’s what all the guys say,” she said with a flirty wink.

  Growing serious, he lifted a hand to her face, cupping her cheek. “I’m not all the guys.”

  Eve kissed his palm, replying, “I know that, Sam. I really know that.”

  With a look that was half-tender, and half rueful, she walked down the stairs, leaving him to go back inside and deal with his father.

  Chapter 9

  “Don’t try to learn everything there is to know about her life. She won’t be around long enough to make it worth your time.” – from 101 Ways To Avoid Commitment

  Though Sam had hoped to finish off his conversation with his father and still get together for dinner with Eve Sunday night, it ended up being impossible. First, because the planning talk had evolved into a strategy session that surprised even Sam. His father had definitely been doing his research on the industry and had some big plans for his newly purchased magazines, and though Sam had continued to insist he wasn’t interested in becoming Editor in Chief, he had found himself enjoying the brainstorming session. His old man was nothing if not sharp, and aside from the boneheaded idea to put Robbie in charge, Jacob Kenneman might really be on to something about turning His World around.

  The other reason he hadn’t been able to take Eve out had been because no sooner had his father left, and Sam reached for the phone to call her, when he’d gotten a call from his sister, who was in full-on freak-out mode. Though her baby wasn’t due for another six weeks, she’d been having contractions all day, and her husband was in Los Angeles on business. Sam had quickly called Eve to let her know what was going on, then hurried to meet his mom and sister at the hospital, only to sit and hear all about something called “Braxton-Hicks” contractions, i.e.: false labor. It had been nearly eleven by the time he’d arrived home. Too late to take Eve out for dinner. Too late, even, to stop by with an apology and a pizza.

  By eight-thirty a.m. Monday, he was having serious Eve-withdrawal. Though it was pretty early, he called anyway, and was gratified at how glad she sounded to hear from him. She asked him to come by the condo that evening after he got off work, as she wanted to talk some things over. Which could have sounded ominous, but he chose to consider a good thing, instead. He wanted to talk about what was happening between them, too, especially wanting to figure out what was going to happen when she left Philadelphia, which would probably be pretty soon.

  After they’d hung up, he sat at his desk, working on a piece, even while mentally replaying every moment of their weekend. Their relationship had certainly changed since Friday afternoon when he’d left the office. Honestly, he never would have predicted it seventy-two hours ago, and found himself thinking how life could turn on a dime. Sometimes for the worst. But sometimes—luckily—for the better.

  One particular moment from the weekend suddenly popped into his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when his father had made that strange comment about her wanting to leave. It was as if his father had recognized her, which, he supposed, was possible. She was a model, maybe his Dad had spotted her in an ad somewhere.

  His curiosity piqued, Sam began typing away on his keyboard, no longer working on his article, but, instead, seeing what he could learn about the woman he was rapidly falling head-over-heels for. Doing research was one of the more interesting aspects of his jobs—he liked surfing the Internet, or scouring old publications, trying to dig up whatever tidbits he needed for a story. Right now, he hoped to stumble across some tidbits about Eve, and while he knew she’d probably tell him if he asked her—perhaps during their air-clearing conversation—he couldn’t shake off his curiosity. Who was she really? Where had she come from? Why had he never heard of her in spite of the fact that she was much older than most models just starting out, and why had his father recognized her?

  He’d tried pressing his father for info the previous night. But the old man had clammed up, played dumb. Sam supposed it was possible his father had just mumbled something, not even realizing why. But he doubted it. Something Jacob had said, the tone in his voice, or that narrow-eyed look of consternation as he stared at Eve, something had startled her. He just didn’t know what.

  “Busy?”

  Sam looked up from his computer terminal as his buddy James poked his head in his office door. “Nah, come on in.”

  The other man walked in slowly, not tossing off any one-liners or jibes like he usually did. James was Sam’s most reliable source of jokes, but today, the other man wasn’t laughing. “What’s wrong?”

  James took a seat across from Sam and leaned his elbows on the desk. “I heard about your family’s new acquisition.”

  Sam frowned. “Don’t worry about it. My father won’t make any major changes to His World. Your job’s safe.”

  “I don’t know that anyone’s job is ‘safe,’” James said with a sigh. “The way I hear it, Kenneman Corp is going to install a new publisher, new management. Who knows, the whole editorial staff could be gone by the end of the week.”

  The other man fell silent, twisting the plain gold wedding band on his left hand. James had gotten married just six months ago, and he and his wife were expecting their first child around Christmas.

  “My father may have gone into this for the wrong reasons, but he’s a businessman at heart. He’s not going to do anything to threaten the stability of His World.”

  “What about your cousin? I just overheard some of the editorial staff talking about things he said to them at the party the o
ther night. The grapevine says he’s in line to be the new Editor In Chief, and he’s got some definite ideas about where this magazine’s going.”

  “Yeah, straight down the tubes,” Sam muttered.

  Robbie was a nice guy—a little weak, a little whiny—but good-natured. He and Sam had bumped into each other this morning and his cousin had seemed both nervous and excited about the prospect of his new job…the one Sam seriously doubted was going to materialize. Another reason to resent his father, who didn’t mind dangling tempting rewards just out of reach of those he was trying to manipulate, then yanking them away at the last minute.

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” James said.

  Seeing his friend’s shoulders slump, Sam quickly clarified, “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I know my father. He likes money too much to let Robbie do any real damage to a profitable enterprise, which this magazine could be.”

  James brightened, obviously figuring Sam knew his father better than anyone else. That wasn’t entirely true—Sam sure had been surprised by the secrets his father had been keeping all his life. But one thing was indisputable—the man was a genius when it came to business. He sniffed out profitable ideas the way Quigley sniffed out tuna.

  “So what ya working on?” James asked, leaning over Sam’s shoulder to look at the computer screen.

  Sam had just conducted a search on the net, trying to learn more about Eve Barret. He’d had no luck just typing in her full name—or rather, far too much luck. There’d been thousands of hits, but the first several pages hadn’t yielded anything useful.

  Then, remembering his father had used the name Evie, he’d tried that. For some reason, the name seemed a popular pseudonym for buxom women who invited people into their private chat rooms for lurid sex talks. He hadn’t even considered clicking on any of those links, not only because he was at work, but because he already knew his Eve well enough to know she wouldn’t do anything like that.