Twice the Charm Page 3

  “There’s always a way to change someone’s mind. You just have to know the right button to push.”

  Foster paled. “What did you do?”

  “Something you wouldn’t.”

  “Damn it, Dixon. This is bullshit and you know it.”

  “Why, because you’re still interested?” He knew the answer, but wanted his partner to say it.

  “Fuck, yeah, I’m still interested. But I’ve got the decency to back off.”

  There we go. Dixon wondered whether Foster had tried to contact Harlow or if he’d given up so soon. He shrugged. “Too bad I don’t share the same moral compass.”

  Foster stood up, pacing the length of the office as he ground his fist into his other palm. “This isn’t fair, Dix.”

  “What’s that saying?” Dixon tapped his forehead like he just remembered. “Oh, yeah. All’s fair in love and war.”

  “Which is this?”

  “Both.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “No, I’m determined. There’s a difference.” Foster might not understand where he was coming from, but Dixon wasn’t out to ruin his chances with Harlow or make her hate them. He knew if she only opened her mind and gave them a chance, she’d see they weren’t the bad guys out to get her.

  If he could have a little fun in the process? All the better.

  FOSTER

  Dixon Swift had lost his damn mind. First he thought they’d win over a competent, classy woman like Harlow with bad manners and an inartful lie. Then, he thought harassing her would get her to change her mind.

  Foster didn’t know whether to call a shrink or Dixon’s bluff. He couldn’t be serious. Whatever it was that had him smirking at Foster couldn’t be good. The man was liable to do something idiotic, maybe even criminal.

  Harlow Crane had gotten under his skin.

  Not that she hadn’t done the same to Foster. Ever since she walked out on them, he couldn’t get her out of his head. Daydreams about her while he should have been talking to investors. Images of her filling his mind at night.

  Damn. What he’d give to taste those lips. Run his hands up her soft curves. Pin her to the wall and make her scream his name.

  But the woman had shut them down at every turn. He hadn’t been as bold as Dixon, but he’d tried to apologize. All he got for his efforts was a huge florist bill and a bunch of returned roses.

  Not exactly promising.

  So he’d given up. Maybe it was premature, but he couldn’t deal with another rejection. Not from a woman like Harlow. It was why her services intrigued him so much. He’d had enough bad dates and failed relationships. Foster was ready for forever, not another pit stop.

  He sighed and sat back down in Dixon’s guest chair. Whatever the man was up to, he needed to spit it out. “What did you do?”

  Dixon glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I’m about to get her attention.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  Dixon smiled. “That depends. Do you like fudge?”

  Chapter 5

  HARLOW

  “I’m telling you, the invoice says Harlow Crane.”

  “That’s impossible. I never ordered three hundred boxes of double chocolate fudge.” Harlow crossed her arms and stared at the delivery guy. An entire pallet of fudge in little gold boxes sat behind him and a gaggle of coworkers loitered a few feet away.

  She could hear their whispers as the man looked the invoice over again. What’s Harlow doing? Are these our bonus gifts? Is that chocolate I smell?

  The guy shook his head as he looked back up. “Listen lady, I don’t know what to say other than your name is right here.” He pointed at a line on the invoice and Harlow snatched the paper from him.

  The whispers picked up behind her, but she tuned them out. Damn it. The man was right. Her name was on the receiving line.

  She handed the paper back. “I’m sorry, but I can’t pay for all of this. You’ll have to take it back.”

  “It’s already paid for. You just need to sign and tell me where to put it.”

  Now she knew there was a horrible mistake. Someone else in another office was very upset that their hundreds of pounds of fudge weren’t coming.

  “What’s going on?” Leanne bopped up, coffee in one hand and an iPad in the other. “Gwen in accounting called me, said to get down here and make sure the chocolate made it up to the tenth floor.”

  Harlow pointed at the boxes. “It’s double chocolate fudge. And it’s addressed to me.”

  “And this is a problem, why?”

  “I didn’t order it.”

  Leanne turned to the delivery guy who grew more impatient every minute. “Is there a sender listed on that invoice?”

  He glanced at it with a scowl. “No. But you want me to check the records? Warehouse might have who paid for it.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Will you sign my ticket then, so I can get out of here? I’ve got ten more deliveries today.”

  Harlow opened her mouth to protest, but Leanne spoke first. “Of course.”

  The guy pulled out his phone and made a call and Leanne tugged Harlow over out of ear shot. “I don’t care if this fudge is meant to go to the boss upstairs. You should sign for it.”

  “Why?”

  Leanne motioned at the gathering crowd. “Because if you don’t I can think of a couple hundred people who are going to be pissed they missed out.”

  Harlow glanced at her coworkers. They eyed her like wolves stalking a wounded deer. Great. Now if she sent the stuff on its merry, chocolate way, she’d be in the dog house with everyone.

  The delivery man walked over. “Warehouse says it came from some tech company. MacSwift Development.”

  Oh my God.

  Leanne started laughing beside her and reached for the delivery ticket. “You can’t make this stuff up, Harlow.” She scribbled Harlow’s name on the line. “There. She signed. Can you take it all up to the conference room on ten? The receptionist will show you where.”

  The delivery man nodded and Harlow watched him push the rolling cart full of boxes toward the elevator. This can’t be happening.

  She stood still, watching as Leanne walked up to the crowd. “Chocolate will be on ten. Help yourselves.”

  A murmur and rush of bodies swept through the lobby and in minutes the elevators filled with people. Only Harlow and Leanne stayed behind. Leanne walked up and took her by the arm. “Now you’re taking a break, buying me a fancy coffee, and spilling your guts. All right?”

  “So let me get this straight. They want to buy your business, make you a millionaire, and take you out to dinner?”

  Harlow sipped her latte. “That’s the gist.”

  “And you’re turning them down, why?”

  “Because I don’t want to sell. Crane Matchmaking is my baby, Leanne. It’s not for sale.”

  “But they said you can still run it. You’ll be the president. It will get you out of this shit job that you hate and make you a pile of cash. It’s a no-brainer.”

  Harlow tucked a strand of hair back into her low ponytail. Sure, she complained about her day job and how she never had a enough hours in the day. But Harlow liked it that way.

  It gave her no time to think about all that she was missing. “I’m comfortable where I am. I don’t want to quit.”

  “Bullshit. You’re scared.”

  Harlow had to hand it to Leanne; the woman never did have a filter. “Maybe a little.”

  “Tell me one good, solid reason why you shouldn’t give them a second chance? You haven’t even heard what they’re offering.”

  Harlow turned the coffee cup around on the table, the cardboard edge scraping against the wood like a record at the end of a song. “I can’t.”

  “Then you have your answer. Call them up and tell them you’ll have dinner. It’s one night. A few hours. You can always say no, but you should do it with your eyes wide open. Know what you’re turning down.”

  Damn Leanne for being sen
sible and smart and put together. “Have I ever told you I hate you?”

  Leanne snorted. “You hate that I'm right, you mean.”

  “Of course.” Harlow stood up and wrapped her best coworker in a hug. “Thanks for playing bad cop.”

  “Anytime. Now get back upstairs and snag us each a box before the vultures in accounting take them all.”

  Harlow smiled and headed for the elevators. A few minutes later, she stood in the conference room, the smell of chocolate thick in the air. It didn’t make any sense.

  How did they even know she loved fudge?

  Harlow stepped up toward the tiny mountain of boxes and pulled one off the top. She opened it before pulling aside the gold paper to find six little squares of fudge nestled inside.

  Plucking one from the box, she brought it to her nose and sniffed. Heavenly. She popped it in her mouth and couldn’t help but moan. Double chocolate fudge from the best shop in town. It was almost as good as sex.

  Not that she’d had a lot of either, lately. Maybe that was part of her problem. She’d been focused on other people’s happiness for so long that she forgot it was time she found some for herself.

  What would it hurt to give Dixon and Foster a call? They could give her the spiel and she could let them down easy. If their taste in restaurants was as good as their fudge-selecting skills, then at least she’d get a nice meal out of it. And some delicious eye candy to stare at, too.

  She grabbed a couple boxes and headed upstairs. After depositing a couple on Leanne’s empty desk, she returned to her cubicle and pulled out her phone.

  Dixon picked up on the second ring. “Do your lips taste like chocolate?”

  Harlow ran her tongue over them. “Maybe a little.”

  “Good. Every time you taste chocolate that rich, I want you to think of me and what I can do for you.”

  Harlow didn’t want to smile, but she couldn’t help it. “Why do you want my company this bad?”

  “Maybe it’s not just the company I want.”

  Oh. Harlow shifted in her chair. I shouldn’t be having this conversation.

  Harlow could see him right now: leaned back in an office chair in front of some gigantic T. Rex desk, wall-to-wall windows showcasing all of Chicago, giant cocky-ass smile on his face.

  She steeled herself. “How about we keep this professional?”

  Dixon paused. “Is that really what you want?”

  “My coworkers thank you for the fudge.”

  “You’re welcome, Harlow.”

  The man was incorrigible. She cleared her throat. “I’m calling to see if you are free to go over your proposal. I’m willing to listen to your offer, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “How about tonight? Dinner at my place.”

  Harlow frowned. “That sounds like a date.”

  “Every day is a date on the calendar, Ms. Crane.”

  “Don’t be an ass.”

  “Don’t be a tease.”

  The more they bantered back and forth, the more Harlow wanted to see him again. Part of her wanted to tell him to go to hell and take his sinfully rich chocolate with him. But another part of her wanted to see his face and look in his eyes as he said all the naughty things floating in his head.

  “Will Foster be joining us?”

  “Only if you insist.”

  “I do.”

  Maybe a little male competition would keep the focus on the business and off Harlow’s starved libido.

  “Fine. He’ll be there. I’ll have a car pick you up. Seven o’clock.”

  Harlow couldn’t help but get in another jab. “I take it you still remember where I live.”

  “How could I forget? This time, tell that doorman of yours we’re welcome.”

  “The jury’s still out on that, I’m afraid.”

  “In a few hours, Ms. Crane, you’ll make up your mind.”

  “Yes, Mr. Swift. I will.”

  Chapter 6

  HARLOW

  The town car pulled up to the high-rise and Harlow stretched her neck to catch the top of the building. Dixon Swift lived on the forty-seventh floor, so high up, he’d be in the clouds when a storm rolled across the water.

  Harlow had never been in a penthouse apartment on the Gold Coast; too expensive for her or her friends. Some of her clients called the area home, but web design and computer programming didn’t lend itself to the big bucks such a place commanded.

  Unless I sell Crane Matchmaking.

  She stepped out of the car and made her way inside, bypassing the front desk, and heading straight for the elevators. After a ride that stretched on forever, the doors opened and a sneaky grin greeted her.

  “You came.” Dixon had been handsome in the bar for their first meeting, but in jeans and an untucked button-down, his bare feet planted on the hallway’s marble? Sexy as hell, and the bastard knew it.

  Harlow smiled despite her earlier misgivings. “You met me at the elevator.”

  Dixon scratched at his beard. “The doorman might have tipped me off.”

  Harlow glanced past him to the empty hall. “Is Foster here?”

  “He’s inside. But I’ll warn you, he’s got his panties all in a bunch. Damn things are cutting off his circulation.”

  With a raised eyebrow, Harlow stepped off the elevator and let Dixon lead her to the front door. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not one a beautiful woman can’t solve. Come in.” He held the door for her and Harlow stepped into the apartment.

  Forget the masculine leather couch and the industrial dining table, the zebra-print rug, and the hand-scraped hardwood floors.

  All Harlow could see was the view. “Wow.”

  “You like it?”

  She stepped toward the windows, oblivious to everything except the Chicago skyline that stretched like a string of Christmas lights out into the night. “It’s gorgeous.”

  If Dixon meant to impress her tonight, he’d succeeded. The view rivaled the top of the Hancock building. So many high-rises. So many people. Lights from cars darting this way and that. Millions of lives going on as she stared.

  “Somehow I don’t think she’s talking about your taste in furniture.”

  Harlow spun around. Foster sat on the sofa she’d breezed right by, a drink in his hand and a smile on his lips. He’d opted for jeans as well, and the simple T-shirt showed off arms honed by weights and sweat.

  The view inside the apartment was nice, too. “I’ve never been in this building. The view is amazing.”

  Dixon walked over to the bar tucked in the corner. “The advantage of living almost in the water of Lake Michigan is that you get all of that out the other side.” He waved at the city.

  “You didn’t want a lake view?”

  Dixon shook his head. “And miss all that? Not a chance. I want to wake up and look out at the city, not forget I live in it.”

  Harlow could understand. She, too, loved the big-city life. She inhaled and the smell of chicken and vegetables hit her nose. “Are you cooking?”

  “Don’t let all those good looks fool you; Dixon could be a master chef.”

  Harlow’s gaze flitted between the owners of MacSwift Development. There was more to both of them than she’d given them credit for. She focused on Foster. “How many other secrets are the pair of you hiding?”

  “How about you come sit down and find out?”

  Harlow smiled and took a seat next to Foster on the couch. She’d promised herself an open mind this evening. No shutting down, no backing out.

  She’d spent the entire afternoon learning about them and their business. What they did, how they did it. According to her research, the pair met in college and started their business before graduation. Originally they designed websites and coded storefronts, just like her. But as the business grew, so did their aspirations.

  Now they turned small successes into monstrous ones. Harlow knew she wanted no part of it. But before she shot down their offer, she at least needed to hear what op
portunities she’d be throwing away.

  Foster appraised her over the rim of his glass. “I’m surprised someone as gorgeous as you is single.”

  “I don’t have time to date.”

  The edges of his mouth tipped up, but he suppressed the smile. “You can make time for anything.”

  Harlow clasped her hands together. “Maybe I haven’t met the right guy.”

  “If you did, would you give him a chance?” Foster’s dark eyes lingered on her face, the intent of his words plain.

  Harlow didn’t know what to think. First Dixon flirted with her over the phone, now Foster was insinuating he was the best man for her. Were they into her for more than her business? Or was it just a ploy to get her to sell?

  She broke eye contact and looked out the window. “Sometimes a man isn’t what he seems. He’ll say one thing and do another.”

  Foster opened his mouth to respond, but closed it just as fast. He sat on the sofa, brooding, until Dixon called out from the kitchen.

  “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat while it’s hot.”

  Harlow stood up, ready to get on with the night, when Foster stilled her with a hand on her arm.

  “I mean everything I say, Harlow. Whatever you might think of us after that first meeting, I’m not a liar. You can trust me.”

  She glanced up at Dixon as he plated a pile of roasted vegetables. “And Dixon?”

  Foster stood up, an intensity in his gaze that Harlow couldn’t place. “You’ll have to figure him out for yourself.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “Yes.” Foster smiled then, the seriousness of his expression giving way. “Enough talking. I’m starving.”

  FOSTER

  Foster leaned back in his chair, amused and turned on all at the same time. “You’re serious?”

  Harlow nodded. “That’s the whole story. I swear, I never intended to set her up with two guys.”

  “Ever figure out how you made the mistake?”

  “I was swamped at work and forgot I emailed one. So I emailed the other. I blame it on their last names.”