Loved Me Once (Love, Romance and Business) Read online

  Reader Comments

  FIVE STARS. Amazing book. I so enjoyed this book and the writing style! Couldn't put it down - looking forward to the next one.

  FIVE STARS. A well-written romantic novel about a savvy hardworking career girl who I'm afraid has just jumped from the frying pan, Tom, into the fire, Miles.

  FIVE STARS. The story holds your interest from the start wondering how she will solve her problems. Very satisfying, very dramatic and a good read.

  FIVE STARS. A classic case of 'don't judge a book by its cover', Loved Me Once was a surprisingly good read. Neither the cover art, nor the book snyopsis fully do this well-written story justice. "A Novel of Love, Romance and Business" however, is a wonderful description. Refreshingly, this reads as a true to life look at a woman of today, working, loving and living her life the best way she can.

  FIVE STARS. Delivers a realistic, sobering look at life, a love triangle and big business and how all intertwine to make a very interesting read. Enjoyed the book immensely - was hard to put down.

  FIVE STARS. This book was great! Definitely chick lit, but if that is your kind of thing, then this read is for you. This book captured my attention right away and kept me wanting more 'til the very end.

  FIVE STARS. I enjoyed the love and romance of Loved Me Once. Maggie's unresolved feelings from her youth were skillfully presented with the highs and lows of her relationship with Miles. I finished the book wanting more.

  FIVE STARS. A really classy romance with a protagonist who is clearly dealing with some of today's most relevant topics in the workplace. I found it an interesting page-turner and couldn't wait to find out her romantic decision. The author has woven in another topic I personally found relevant, that of caring for aging parents.

  FOUR AND A HALF STARS. This is a very well written and plotted romance. . . I really loved the fact that Maggie was portrayed so intelligently (so tired of books featuring air-headed women).

  CLICK THIS LINK TO SEE THE AUTHOR'S WEB SITE

  Loved

  Me

  Once

  A Novel of Love, Romance and Business

  by

  Gail Hewitt

  Copyright 2009, 2012

  L.G. Hewitt

  All Rights Reserved

  NOTICE OF RIGHTS:

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or any other, nor may the characters and/or plot specifics be used for any purpose without the prior written consent of the author. For information on rights and permissions, contact [email protected].

  A WORK OF FICTION:

  The characters and incidents in this work are fictional. Any resemblance to any incident or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Trade Paperback ISBN: 1441469826

  Kindle Edition EAN-13: 9781441469823

  Kindle Edition ISBN: 978-0-9843780-4-3

  Dedicated to

  All the men and boys

  Who carry our laptops

  Bring us flowers

  Send us Valentines

  And generally make life

  worth living —

  Or at least a lot more fun

  Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.

  Rainer Maria Rilke

  CONTENTS

  ONE.

  One December in Atlanta

  TWO.

  What A Dutiful Daughter Would Do

  THREE.

  Doors Closing, Options Ending

  FOUR.

  Maggie's View of Lake View

  FIVE.

  Just Girls Together

  SIX.

  Miles and His Unsuspected Talents

  SEVEN.

  Mistaken Assumptions

  EIGHT.

  An Old Keepsake, A New Opportunity

  NINE.

  An Unacceptable Ultimatum

  TEN.

  Out With The Old

  ELEVEN.

  In With The New

  TWELVE.

  Call The Lawyers, Cue The Politics

  THIRTEEN.

  A Not So Merry Christmas Eve

  FOURTEEN.

  Home For Christmas

  FIFTEEN.

  The Most Wonderful of Bad Times

  SIXTEEN.

  Prep Time and A Lot of Questions

  SEVENTEEN.

  Command Performance

  EIGHTEEN.

  Picture Perfect?

  NINETEEN.

  Party Time

  TWENTY.

  Seems Like Old Times

  TWENTY-ONE.

  A Loss of Focus

  TWENTY-TWO.

  Tom's Agenda

  TWENTY-THREE.

  An Unexpected Turn of Events

  TWENTY-FOUR.

  Maggie's Choice

  TWENTY-FIVE.

  Favorite Valentine

  CHAPTER ONE OF THE SEQUEL: LOVE ME NOW.

  The First Day of the Rest of Her Life?

  LIST OF SERIES TITLES.

  List of the five titles in the LOVED ME series

  One December In Atlanta

  One of the things that Maggie liked about holding sessions at the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead was that the service was as efficient as it was pleasant. By the time she'd said the closing words, thanked the group for coming, exchanged the feedback memory stick for the large packet of mail that Kimberly Maddeson had brought with her from WHT's New York headquarters, said goodbye to the last of the stragglers, collected her case and bag, and made her way to the door, the manager who handled WHT's account was waiting outside in the passage for her.

  "I understand you're lunching with us today, Miss McLaurin. I believe your guest is already here. Shall I have the case put in your car with the rest of your luggage?"

  "Yes, thanks," Maggie said, stopping to look at her vibrating BlackBerry even as she allowed the case to be taken.

  "I believe they've already seated the gentleman at your favorite table, next to the windows," the manager said. Up the way, a door to a conference room opened, and there was a quick burst of voices and laughter as several people streamed out. It was Friday noon, and groups were breaking up — as had Maggie's — to allow out-of-town participants to beat the Friday afternoon rush to Hartsfield, not that Atlanta's traffic was anything but horrendous at any time on Fridays.

  "That's fine," Maggie said absently, texting a reply to the message she'd just read. "I appreciate it."

  "Then if there's nothing else . . ."

  "No, thanks," Maggie said quickly as her cell vibrated and she checked to see who it was. "You're been very helpful, as usual," she said, looking up and smiling, the broad grin enlivening her cool, almost intimidating beauty.

  "Just let the desk know when you're ready to have your car brought around," the manager said, smiling somewhat fatuously in return, as men had been prone to do since she was twelve. He went in one direction as Maggie turned and went in another, her cell at her ear, trying to listen patiently as the media guy in New York explained that there had been a problem with the materials being sent to Lake View but, if she heard anything about it, she wasn't to worry as it had now been taken care of. Why, then, had he called, Maggie wondered? She didn't say it, of course. She remembered what it was like to be "the new kid," learning ropes she hadn't known were there. She couldn't fault the poor guy for trying to be conscientious.

  Up ahead, Christmas music drifted from a function room. Surely it was too early for holiday office parties? She glanced at her cell. It was later in December than she thought — already the end of the second week. The month was evapo
rating, just as the year had evaporated. It was funny, she thought. She lived by the calendar, yet the passage of time rarely registered. She resisted a sigh as she pushed back a brown curl that regularly escaped her attempts at containment. She'd be tempted to keep her hair short, she thought, if it didn't grow so fast and a decent haircut cost so much. As it was, she kept its heavy length pulled back into a loose chignon that invariably slid downwards toward the nape of her neck as the day progressed. She could feel the bun now, pushing against her collar. Realizing that she must look a total mess, she ducked into a restroom to see how bad it was. Pretty bad, she thought, examining her image in the mirror. She undid the chignon and ran fingers through her hair, allowing it to fall free into its natural waves. Then she applied lipstick, blotted, and topped it with gloss. She'd at least look halfway okay when she walked into the restaurant, she thought. Not that appearance was necessarily critical. It was, after all, Miles who was waiting and he didn't seem to care what she looked like.

  As she emerged from the restroom and continued down the hotel corridor, a young couple came toward her, obviously incipient power players with their good suits and expensive cases. Today, however, they were holding hands, grinning and giggling like naughty kids. Engaged? Married? Or coworkers who'd suddenly taken a second look at each other and liked what they saw? They noticed her glance and smiled. She smiled too, fighting the urge to wish them well, wondering if she'd ever felt that young and lightheaded. Well, maybe, once, but there was no point in going there. With the weekend she had ahead of her, one thing she definitely did not need was to start thinking about that, especially not here in Atlanta, the scene of the crime as it were. She grinned in wry recognition of her hard-won self-awareness and continued down the passage, now streaming with people.

  At the entrance to The Café, bright with astutely placed poinsettias in recognition of the season, Maggie looked across the room. Miles Brewster was indeed already seated, studying a menu and discussing something with the waiter, who appeared to be enjoying himself enormously. That was one of Miles' gifts, Maggie thought, to put everyone at ease. It was ironic that he was from the sort of old New England families in which one would expect to find starchy Yankee correctness, not warmth, as the predominant characteristic, but Miles could charm the birds from the trees. Then she realized that she was not only using one of her mother's expressions but also thinking, like her, in clichés. She shook her head and began to move across the room even as Miles saw her and stood up.

  Waving away two staff members who'd materialized for the purpose, Miles pulled out the chair and settled her before resuming his seat. He smiled broadly. He had a nice smile, and Maggie returned it without hesitation, her large brown eyes sparkling. Miles was exactly the sort of man at whom any sensible woman would wish to smile, tall, with sandy hair, eyes of a particularly intense shade of blue, and a narrow, pleasant face that — as Elizabeth McLaurin would once have said — suggested good family lines. The well-cut Italian suit he wore concealed the fact that, according to rumor, he worked out with a personal trainer several times a week. Nothing, however, could conceal his delight as he looked at her.

  "Good session?" he asked.

  "All right, I suppose," she shrugged, putting her BlackBerry next to the water goblet. "The usual mixture of people who think they've wasted their time and their company's money and others who are convinced they've found some sort of magic wand, with a few in the middle who actually get the point and will probably go back to their offices and at least try to make some sensible changes that will improve their professional lives."

  "You're sounding extremely cynical for the holidays," he teased. "Was it that bad?"

  "It wasn't bad at all," she protested. "Anyway, I should be relieved that all these people signed up before Wall Street and the banks began imploding — and that they didn't cancel when the economy turned totally sour."

  The BlackBerry buzzed. She started to reach for it, but he leaned over, depowered, and pocketed the device. "The thing will hold a message, you know. That's rather the point of it at times. Take a few minutes for lunch, just to digest. O.K.? Now, how about the session? Was it bad?"

  "It was fine. I'm just a little tired, that's all. It's been a busy week, and next week won't be any better."

  "In aid of which, I've come to make sure you get some R&R over the weekend," he told her. "Mother won't be using the place in Palm Beach and I've got two first class tickets on Delta for the 4:30 flight. You mentioned you wanted to drop by to see your mother, and since she's only a few minutes away, I thought that would allow enough time to meet back here once you're done and make it to the airport . . ."

  Miles stopped as she began to shake her head, and quickly regrouped. "If you'll need more time with your mother, we could change it to the 6:20 or even the 8:55 . . . Or, maybe you'd rather just go home to New York and catch a late dinner somewhere."

  "You don't know how I wish I could," Maggie told him, "but I've got to be here until I fly back to New York on Sunday afternoon."

  "What's so urgent that it can't wait?" Miles protested. "You're here at least a couple of times a month."

  "I know, but Mother's health problems have become . . . worse, and her doctor insists on talking to me. It took a lot of doing to get him to agree to come by tomorrow afternoon so he can see her at home and then we can discuss what needs to be done. He says he wants to see how she interacts with me before he suggests any significant changes. Then, depending on what he says, there may be arrangements to make."

  Miles instantly grew grave. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize her condition had deteriorated to that extent."

  "Neither did I, at least until a few days ago," Maggie told him. "Can I have a rain check? Maybe next weekend? I head to Lake View Lodge on Tuesday afternoon, but the last session's over at lunch on Friday and I'll be back in New York by five. You could fly to the city, and we could hit a show or just hang out."

  "New York is a definite possibility," he assured her, adding, "As for the hanging out, we'll see." He gave her a look, the significance of which could be easily read. She had been dodging any meaningful involvement for almost two years, which was probably some sort of record for him, as it certainly was for her. She wasn't exactly sure why she'd been so evasive, for she found him attractive. True, it was against her company's rules of conduct to become personally involved with a client, a classification into which she supposed that Miles might fit, albeit vaguely. Also, there was the age difference (he was six years younger, thirty-eight to her forty-four). Probably more to the point, there was her track record. It was something of a truism to say that Maggie's romances never ended well, and she was reluctant to add Miles to the list. She admitted to herself that she liked having him around. She would hate to lose Miles.

  As if he could sense her mood, he returned to safe ground. "So people signed up for the new seminar? With everything that's going on?"

  "A full group," she told him. "Of course, Bill was handing out deep discounts because it's a trial and he got a good deal with Lake View, but I'm still in shock. I can't believe there's that much interest in 'writing the story of your life to prepare for success.' I mean, give me a break." She sighed.

  Miles nodded in agreement. "Not one of Wild Bill's better ideas. He proposed it to Mother, and she was not amused. Part of it was the money, of course. She's put a hold on inessential expenditures until the economic situation levels out. Even in our business, things are sluggish. In fact, we think that one of our principal competitors is about to file Chapter 11, and we're watching the situation with, as the financial press would say, pointed interest. It might be a chance to expand at a good price."

  "I think we've just been lucky that, so far anyway, the sessions are still relatively full," Maggie said. "Not only is Lake View sold out, but no one has cancelled. My guess is that, like the group today, most of them probably registered late last summer before things got so bad, paid early to get the discount, and don't want to forfeit their deposits. Most
of them are probably corporate types who see this as a way to take a breather during the holidays. And Lake View's supposed to be something of a destination."

  "Oh, it is," he grinned. "A Victorian grande dame of resorts. You'll like it if you take five minutes away from work to look it over."

  "So you've been? As a child with your parents, I suppose?"

  "A few times with the family," he said, "but once or twice since then. You know . . . " He made a vague gesture.

  "It doesn't sound like the kind of place a guy like you would have at the top of his getaway list," she teased, realizing her mood had lightened, as it usually did when she was with Miles.

  "It's actually pretty romantic," he protested mildly, looking at the menu. "Long dim corridors, snug elevators, fires in the rooms, balconies overlooking the lake. Gothic, but in a cozy sort of way, and this time of year there'll be lots of candles and a Christmas tree in every nook and cranny. Yep, pretty romantic."

  "Ah, ha, that's how you know it. You take girls there for your famous weekends," she grinned. He looked up, obviously irritated, and she remembered that he didn't like it when she teased him about girls. He could be such a baby sometimes, but even he couldn't deny that there had been a lot of weekends. Various people in her office had made sure she heard the seemingly well-informed gossip about Miles as soon as it became obvious that he had targeted her with what one of her male co-workers described laughingly as "the intensity of a heat-seeking missile." In any event, didn't he think she noticed the girls who lingered hopefully in his vicinity, highly visible from the time of their first meeting a couple of years earlier at a WHT conference? She'd been coming off one of the always-fated-to-go-nowhere relationships to which she seemed invariably drawn, certainly not in the mood to become attracted to a potential client of WHT. He'd pursued her from the outset. Since his Boston firm, founded several generations back by one of his mother's great-grandfathers, was essentially run by his mother and older brother, his primary role was to serve as the public face of the business. This gave him the flexibility to be wherever he wanted, when he wanted, and she had become accustomed to having him show up unexpectedly. She smiled at him, and the frown crease between his blue eyes disappeared. Pleased, he ruffled his thick, fair hair.