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He looked out the window, his expression grim. Unfortunately, Judy had misjudged him. He wasn’t a miracle worker. He was CEO of a multimillion-dollar corporation. He was a man who made tough decisions. And so he’d done what any prudent man would have done under the circumstances.
He’d taken the briefcase from Judy’s hands, thanked her…and gotten out of there as quickly as possible.
What else could he have done?
“What else?” he muttered wearily.
The cabby glanced in the mirror and smiled happily. “Yes,” he said.
Matthew sighed. “Yes,” he said.
Why not?
The single word seemed to sum it all up.
* * *
It didn’t sum anything up for Joe Romano.
Matthew’s kid brother was not a yes-man. It was why their working relationship succeeded. Joe called it as he saw it.
He’d watched with respect and occasional awe as Matthew swam through shark-filled waters and came out untouched. And when his big brother pulled off an occasionally outrageous, unpredictable, even dangerous stunt, Joe was the first to applaud.
Matt courted danger. It was part of the reason he’d climbed so far so fast.
But what Matt had just told him wasn’t outrageous or unpredictable or dangerous. It was crazy. Okay, they hadn’t seen each other for a few days. Joe had been in Boston on business. Luck had brought them together in New York for brunch before they both flew home. Surely, a few days wasn’t enough time for Matt to have turned into a crazy man.
For that reason—and, Joe had to admit, for curiosity’s sake—he wasn’t about to let the topic of Matt’s morning meeting slide by.
Joe took a sip of his coffee.
“And?” he asked, smiling a little. “You met with Susan Reagan, saw her staffers and…?”
Matthew picked up his fork, scooped up another piece of his portobello mushroom omelet and gave Joe a benign smile.
“And what? That’s all there is to it. I gave CHIC four weeks to try to get its act together.”
“A month? You gave that excuse for a magazine a month?”
Matthew buttered a biscuit. “Whoever recommended this place was right. They do a terrific brunch.”
“Glad you think so. Matt, why’d you give CHIC a month?” Joe leaned forward. “I’m trying to get a handle on this deal.”
So am I, Matthew thought, and forced a smile to his lips.
“Look, four weeks isn’t forever. What’s the difference if we close CHIC down now or later? The operation’s still a write-off.”
“I know, but you said you were determined to shut them down today. Did you see something that changed your mind? Facts, figures, projections?”
“No.”
“No?”
“We could give CHIC four years, and it still wouldn’t be a moneymaking proposition.”
Joe’s brows lifted. “Then why did you give them the month?”
Matthew reached for his coffee and took a sip, savoring it with an intensity he usually reserved for a vintage wine.
“Great coffee,” he said briskly. “I wonder if they grind their own beans.”
“Matt. Talk to me, will you?”
“About what?”
“About why you flew all the way to New York to shut CHIC down in person.”
Matthew looked at his brother. “You know why.”
“Yeah. The memos. The E-mails. The, ah, the Susan Ford take on Matthew Romano.”
“Her name is Susannah Madison,” Matthew said coldly. “And don’t even let me see your lips twitch. Nothing the woman wrote was the least bit amusing.”
“Of course not,” Joe said quickly. “That’s why I don’t understand…” He hesitated. “Wait a minute. You did fire her, didn’t you?”
A muscle knotted in Matthew’s jaw. “No.”
“No? As in, no, you didn’t?”
“No, as in I had every intention of dumping her. And of shutting the place down, but—”
“But?”
The brothers stared at each other. But what? Matthew thought. What could he say? That a hellcat in a sweatshirt and jeans had painted him into a corner?
“But,” he said calmly, looking at his plate, devoting attention to the omelet he didn’t have the appetite to eat, “I changed my mind.”
“Because?” Joe said helpfully.
Matthew took his time chewing, swallowing and trying to come up with an answer.
“Because it didn’t seem fair to pull the rug out from under all CHIC’s employees just so I could get even with one person. Look, what’s the difference? She’ll be out of our hair in four weeks.”
Joe shoved aside his eggs Benedict and looked at his brother.
“I suggested something similar to you, remember? Fold the magazine, give the CHIC staffers a month’s pay plus benefits. And you said the pay and bennies were fine, but you still wanted to hand the Coolidge dame—”
“Madison,” Matthew said sharply. “Her name is Madison.”
“Clinton, Madison, Teddy Roosevelt, what does it matter? You wanted to sock it to her in person.”
Matthew looked around, caught the eye of their waiter and gestured towards his empty coffee cup.
“So how come you didn’t?”
Matthew’s expression hardened. “Let’s get something straight,” he said softly. “You’re my brother. And my right-hand man. But I run my own show. I don’t answer to anybody, not even you. Got that?”
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”
Oh, hell. Matthew reached out his hand as Joe got to his feet.
“Joe—”
“It’s okay, I got the message.”
“Joe, for God’s sake, sit down.”
“What for? You made your point.”
“Dammit,” Matthew said, through his teeth, “will you sit down?”
The brothers glared at each other and then Joe slid into the booth. Matthew leaned over the table, his eyes flat and cold as stone.
“The woman made a fool of me.”
Joe’s brows lifted. “How?”
“She—she…” Color flooded Matthew’s face. He sat back and reached for his coffee. “Never mind how. The point is, she’s not going to get away with it.”
“No?”
“No. I can promise you that. Miss Susannah Madison most definitely will not pull this off.”
“Pull what off?”
“Let’s just say she created a situation that kept me from shutting down the magazine.”
Joe leaned in. “What’d she do?”
“It doesn’t matter. The point is, it won’t work. You can bet on it.”
“Can you at least tell me what you plan to do?”
Matthew frowned as the waiter served more coffee along with dessert. When he and Joe were alone again, he picked up a fork, poked at his slice of Chocolate Decadence, put down the fork and shoved the plate aside.
“No chocolate cake?” Joe asked, watching the performance with a puzzled expression.
“Nobody eats chocolate cake for breakfast.”
“This is brunch, not breakfast. And you do, all the time.” Joe grinned. “Remember that screwed-up blood test, the one that almost lost you that football scholarship because you ate Nonna’s chocolate cake for breakfast and ended up with a sugar count that sent the doc into a panic?”
“Yeah, well, I’m not hungry.”
“I could see that. You left over half your meal.”
Matthew’s eyes flashed. “I do not need a keeper, Joe.”
“My, oh, my, but you are a joy this morning.”
The brothers glared at each other, and then Matthew sighed.
“Hell,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I’m just in a lousy mood.”
Joe grinned. “Who’d have guessed?”
“Look, I promise you, I’m going to take care of Susannah Madison. I just want to do it in my own time, in my own way. Okay?”
“Sure. You’re the
boss. And Madison is your problem.”
“Exactly.”
Joe tucked into his cherry Danish, Matthew into his Chocolate Decadence.
“She put me in a difficult position,” he said, after a moment’s silence.
“Susannah Madison?”
“Yes.”
Joe frowned and looked up. “That must have taken some doing.”
Matthew nodded glumly. “Tell me about it,” he said bitterly.
“What’d she do?”
It was a good question. When you came right down to it, what had she done, except respond to something he’d started? Matthew frowned. No. He hadn’t started it. He couldn’t have. He’d never in his life come on to a woman in such a frenzy. And, hell, if he ever did, it wouldn’t be to a woman like Madison.
