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Whitney had had plenty of boyfriends in her thirty years, but none of them had ever made her feel as much as Cormac did.
And she’d learned the hard way that she never wanted to feel that much about anyone again.
“I didn’t tell anyone I was coming,” he said.
“That’s why Jeff didn’t mention it.”
“I thought it better just to come and talk to my staff in person. I’m making changes across the company. Relocating to Marietta.”
“I read the email, and Jeff also filled me in.”
“Do you have any questions about the move?”
“No.”
“Any concerns?”
“No.”
“I want you to feel free to ask me anything—”
“No questions,” she said cutting him short, resenting that he looked so comfortable while she felt as if she’d swallowed glass. She forced a small hard tight smile, wondering if he’d know it was as fake as fake could be. “No concerns.”
He smiled back, his lips curving and yet his gaze narrowed. He wasn’t buying her smile. He apparently knew her too well. “I wish everyone was as calm and pragmatic as you are about the move to Montana. But then, you’re from Bozeman. Of course you know the area, and the appeal of a small town like Marietta. I am hoping you can share your knowledge of the area with the others on your creative team.”
“I’m happy to talk up Marietta, because it is a charming town, but I am not going. I literally just sent HR an email letting them know I won’t be relocating.”
There was a flicker in his eyes but other than that, he didn’t look unduly disturbed. “You’re a key part of Sheenan Media.”
“Was a key part,” she corrected. “I love Denver. I’m staying here.”
“There are significant bonuses for those of you in key positions that make the move. And you hold one of those key positions.”
She shouldn’t be surprised that he was dangling money. It’s how Cormac operated. If there was a problem, throw cash at it. Cash solved everything.
Her lips curled even as her heart hurt remembering anew how Cormac Sheenan refused to play by society’s rules. He was the kind of man who made up his own rules. He did what he wanted, when he wanted without regard to others.
“Money doesn’t solve everything,” she said.
He shrugged. “It certainly helps, and in this case it will ensure that my staff is able to settle in Montana with as little stress as possible.”
“It won’t help those who have to leave their families and friends.”
“Some people like change.”
Her lips compressed. Cormac had an answer for everything. But then, control was everything to him. He always did what was best for him, treating others as accessories. But she wasn’t a doll, or a puppet. She wouldn’t be toyed with and then discarded. And she certainly wasn’t about to move to Montana for him. “I am sure there are,” she agreed. “But I’ve had enough change in my life. I’m ready to stay put. Denver is home now—”
“You should at least hear my offer.”
Whitney held his gaze. “Not interested.”
“You’re ready to give it all up? Everything you’ve worked so hard to gain?”
He was right. She had worked hard during her years at Sheenan Media, but then, she’d loved her job. It wasn’t just a job, either. It had been a passion. She’d been able to pour her design background into every aspect of Sheenan Media from branding to overhauling each different magazine’s design. Working with her editorial team she’d had her finger in everything, and it had been wildly fulfilling. Creating. Collaborating. Developing. Managing. Cormac might be the numbers guy, but she’d become his brand expert.
She would not cry. She wouldn’t. “Apparently it’s time to spread my wings and look outside Sheenan Media.”
“You have so much freedom here. You’ve been given so much control.”
“But you’re taking away the freedom and control, forcing all to relocate from homes we love to nowhere Montana.”
“Whitney, you’re from nowhere Montana.”
“And I left it. For good reason.”
“You don’t have to live in Marietta. Lots of the team is house hunting in Bozeman.”
“I definitely can’t live in Bozeman.”
He shot her a swift glance, puzzled, and then his expression cleared. “This is about April.”
“It’s not just April. It’s all of it. You, me, April and Daryl, Daisy. It’s too much. It’s too painful. I can’t go back there. I can’t live with those memories.”
“Do you not ever let yourself think about her? About them?”
She pushed up to her feet. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
“Whitney, that’s not healthy—”
“I don’t want to discuss it!” She grabbed her purse and her coat from the hook on the wall. “I have to go. I need to go.”
He was on his feet, too, and he reached for her but she lunged backwards, throwing an arm out to keep him away.
“You have no right,” she choked. “You have no right at all because you knew how much I loved her. You knew how important she was to me. She was nothing to you at that point. You weren’t attached to her yet. But I was. And I lost. You made sure I’d lose, too.”
Chapter Three
‡
Whitney walked blindly out of the tower office building, dashing away tears as she stepped outside, shivering at the bite in the air. It was a crisp, bright November morning and she pulled her coat closer, fastening buttons. The temperature had been dropping steadily these past few days, turning the leaves russet and gold. She shivered again as she walked. She didn’t know where she was going, she just knew she had to move…escape.
Escape him, Cormac Sheenan.
Whitney had first heard the name, Sheenan, nine years ago when she was working at Colorado Living as an assistant editor. One afternoon the magazine’s president and publisher, John Vey, called a staff meeting and announced that he’d just sold the magazine to Sheenan Media and that the new owner and publisher had promised to keep most of the staff on, although there would probably be a few changes.
John had been wrong. There weren’t a few changes. Virtually the entire editorial and marketing and sales team was replaced overnight with Sheenan Media employees, and Whitney was one of those let go.
She was lucky, though, and found a new position at Colorado Bridal. It was another junior position, but it was a job, and she quickly worked her way up once her new boss realized Whitney wasn’t just a good editor, but a great designer, and she was promoted to Art Assistant, assisting the magazine’s Deputy Art Director.
One year later she became the Deputy Art Director and another year later she interviewed for the Creative Director job—not at all confident she would get it as she was just twenty-four—but Colorado Bridal’s president loved Whitney’s vision and made her the youngest Creative Director in the history of the magazine. However six months later, the magazine was bankrupt and threatening to fold, but before the magazine ceased operations, Media Communications, Inc. out of Seattle, bought the ailing bridal magazine, adding it to its bridal market.
Nine months after the averted crisis, Media Communications, Inc. was acquired by Sheenan Media and the nine full-time employees at Colorado Bridal were transitioned over to Sheenan Media’s Denver office.
Suddenly Whitney was back working in her old office, and through a series of lateral and vertical shifts, found herself contributing to all the lifestyle magazines, overseeing visual design and branding.
And still she’d never met the CEO himself. She wouldn’t meet him for another year, and then it was by fluke, having drinks and appetizers at Steuben’s on East 17th Avenue with her best friend, April, who’d recently moved to Denver from their hometown of Bozeman. They were munching on ribs, making a mess but thoroughly enjoying themselves, when Whitney glanced up, and made eye contact with a very hot guy sitting across from them at the bar.
He was
dark blonde, tan, tall, and drop dead handsome, but not in that pretty boy kind of way. No, he was rugged, even a little weathered, like the guys that spent all their free time on the slopes or in the water. And then he smiled at her, a very slow smile that curled his lips and warmed his eyes, and even though he was sitting across the room at the bar, her heart did this wild drop, plunging to her feet and then back up again. Whitney didn’t believe in love at first sight but she felt a rush of something (lust?) and could barely focus on anything.
April had spotted him, and saw the way he’d looked at Whitney and so the two friends spent a good five minutes discussing his dark blonde and tanned hotness, speculating on who he was and what he did for a living to look like that, before finally moving on to other topics, like their lame love lives, and how warm it had been lately, teasing them with the promise of spring, when they both knew spring was still months away.
And then suddenly April was sitting up taller and whispering, “Mr. Seriously Sexy is coming this way.”
Whitney wiped her lips with her cocktail napkin, praying she’d erased all signs of barbecue sauce and then he was there, at their side, even taller than she’d thought, and far hunkier, too. He was built, and he was beautiful and introduced himself as Cormac.
