Just the Way You Are

Chapter One

Boston, Massachusetts
On a cold day in February
Seven years later

Meredith Spencer reflected that a woman of fifty-seven years shouldn't have to wear panty hose, support her three grandchildren, or return to the workforce as a temporary secretary. Yet here she was, standing back against the wall in the penthouse office of Zachariah Givens, president and CEO of Givens Enterprises, listening to Gerald Sabrinski rant and rave.

"You are a heartless bastard, and someday I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you get what you deserve." Bald and red-faced, Mr. Sabrinski leaned across Mr. Givens's desk and glared with all the wrath of a powerful opponent.

A powerful, defeated opponent.

Mr. Givens spoke in an aristocratic Boston accent, but without inflection of any kind. "Sabrinski Electronics was weakened by the recession, and that loan you gave to your son was the last straw."

Mr. Sabrinski's red face turned even redder. "My son needed the money."

"No doubt." Mr. Givens's lip curled in a most scornful manner.

Meredith's old friend, Constance Farrell, stood with her and instructed her in a low voice. "Mr. Givens knows Mr. Sabrinski's son, and has for years. Ronnie has a habit of hitting on his father for money."

"I see." Meredith clutched her notebook and her pen to her chest, her gaze fixed to the escalating scene before her.

Still in an undertone, Constance advised Meredith, "Mr. Givens is getting impatient. We'll be expected to escort Sabrinski out of the office in a few minutes."

Meredith stared at Mr. Givens, seated in his black leather executive chair, and wondered how Constance could tell he was impatient, when in fact Meredith could scarcely believe that man had ever suffered an emotion of any kind.

"Mr. Urbano will assist us," Constance murmured. "Mr. Urbano used to be a hockey player, and no one gives him any trouble."

Meredith flicked a glance at Jason Urbano, the legal counsel for Givens Enterprises. Mr. Urbano was burly, attractive, and probably in his early thirties, as was Mr. Givens. In most circumstances, the former hockey player would turn any woman's head, but seated next to Mr. Givens, he was all but invisible.

Mr. Givens irresistibly drew the eye. He was easily the handsomest man Meredith had ever seen in person. His black hair was straight and crisp. His eyes were so dark they looked black, too. His tanned skin stretched over bones that jutted into definitive lines: stubborn jaw, aristocratic nose, high cheekbones, broad forehead. And his body...well, just because Meredith was fifty-seven and a widow didn't mean she was dead or blind, and that man had the height and the kind of body that transfixed a woman's attention every moment he was in the room.

All of those devastating good looks made a great first impression. Then Meredith looked into his eyes and saw...nothing. He was not interested in her or, as far as she could tell, in anyone. He moved like a shark through the water, gracefully, smoothly, and with a threat that was palpable and repellent. He was cold, dispassionate, detached.

All morning and into the afternoon, Meredith had been observing office procedures, taking notes, preparing to take Constance's place while she was away on vacation, and during that time Mr. Givens had performed a lightning-fast takeover of Mr. Sabrinski's company, and was now listening as Mr. Sabrinski reviled him. At no point had Meredith seen Mr. Givens smile, frown, or show a sign of joy or curiosity or displeasure.

With his dark eyes fixed on Mr. Sabrinski, Mr. Givens said, "If you could have recovered some of the cash from your son, that would have helped, but your loan weakened the company and made it ripe for takeover."

Sabrinski's color faded, leaving him washed out and blue around the lips.