Kissing Her Enemy - Coleen Kwan

Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Find your Bliss with these great releases…
Wedding Date Rescue
Falling for the Best Man
How to Lose a Bachelor
Falling for Her Enemy
Also by Coleen Kwan…
Real Men Don’t Break Hearts
Real Men Don’t Quit
One Real Man
White-Hot Holiday
Baiting the Boss
Undercover in the CEO’s Bed
His Millionaire Maid
Unexpectedly Yours
Best Friends with the Billionaire
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Coleen Kwan. All rights
reserved, including the right to reproduce,
distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
For information regarding subsidiary rights, please
contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 109
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at
www.entangledpublishing.com.
Bliss is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
For more information on our titles, visit
http://www.entangledpublishing.com/category/bliss
Edited by Lydia Sharp and Stacy Abrams
Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill
Cover art from iStock
ISBN 978-1-63375-886-5
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition February 2017
Chapter One
Amber Miller slammed on the brakes, her battered
pickup truck jerking to a halt just inches from a
sleek silver Lexus. Flinging her hair back, she
jumped out of the truck and marched toward the
building that housed the headquarters of Wright
Inc. Don’t stop now, she told herself. Don’t let
them intimidate you.
But she made the mistake of pausing to take in
the handsome stone building—one of the first
banks built in Pine Falls at the end of the nineteenth
century—that the Wright family used for business
and entertaining. The building reflected the
Wrights’ standing—solid, upstanding, wealthy,
established. Everything her family wasn’t.
She strode forward but then paused at the
entrance as she caught a reflection of herself in the
glass doors. Her reddish-brown hair was coming
loose from its ponytail, her tight jeans bore a rip in
the thigh, and her Timberland nubuck boots were
covered in sawdust from earlier this morning when
she’d demonstrated a circular saw to a customer at
her hardware store. She definitely didn’t look her
best going into the Wrights’ headquarters. For a
second, self-doubt flickered in her, that hideous
feeling that she didn’t fit in, that she wasn’t good
enough.
But then she remembered what was at stake, not
just for her, but for the other store owners. Their
anxious faces were fresh in her mind. These were
more than just neighbors; they were her friends, her
community, and they were counting on her. For
everyone’s sake she couldn’t back down now. She
marched into the foyer, her dusty boots clomping
on the tiled floor, and halted to get her bearings.
Despite herself, she couldn’t help admiring the
black-and-white marble tiles, the sandstone
columns supporting the coffered ceiling, and the
brass pots with their glossy plants. This was the
first time she’d been inside the building, and she
had to admit the Wrights had taste.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” a voice said.
She turned to see a slim young man dressed in a
suit rise from a desk and move toward her.
“I’m here to see Logan Wright,” Amber declared
in a confident tone.
The young man blinked and clasped his hands
together. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Are you Logan’s secretary?”
He beamed with pride. “Yes, I’m Mr. Logan
Wright’s personal assistant. Pablo Garcia, at your
service.” He gave her a little head bob.
“Well, Pablo—I can call you that, right?—you
and I both know I don’t have an appointment with
Mr. Logan Wright”—she emphasized the name
sarcastically—“but I’m going to see him anyway.”
Scanning the foyer, she found a heavy teak door
with brass fittings near Pablo’s desk and started to
march toward it.
Looking alarmed, Pablo scampered after her and
blocked her way. “Er, I’m sorry, Miss, er—but I
can’t let you barge in on Mr. Logan.”
“It’s Miller. Amber Miller.” She looked the guy
up and down. He was an inch taller than she was
but as slim and green as a fresh asparagus shoot.
“That’s a really nice suit you have there, Pablo.”
He tugged at his lapels. “Uh, thank you, Miss, uh,
Miller.”
“Call me Amber. You see what I’m wearing?”
She gestured at her jeans, boots, and T-shirt. “I
don’t care about getting dirty in this, but it’d be a
shame to mess up your brand spanking new suit.”
Pablo gulped, but to his credit he stood his
ground. “I—I’m sorry, but Mr. Logan would fire
me if I didn’t do my job properly. Now I really
must insist—”
“Sorry, Pablo, but I must insist.” She took a step,
feinting to her right, then, as he went to mimic her,
she switched direction, dodged past him on the
left, and stormed toward Logan Wright’s office.
She had almost reached it when the door swung
open and a cool, svelte blonde in a tight suit and
high heels minced out of the office. The blonde
was so busy talking to someone over her shoulder
that she cannoned straight into Amber.
“Oof,” Amber grunted as she bounced off the
woman.
“Argh!” The blonde let out a squeal. Tossing
back her sleek, bobbed hair, she glared at Amber
with ice-cold eyes. “What the hell do you think
you’re doing?”
The man who’d been holding the door open for
the blonde moved forward. “You okay there,
Emily?” Then his gaze fell on Amber, and for a
second his face was blank before recognition
flared in his eyes and his dark eyebrows drew into
a slight V. “Amber? Amber Miller?” Incredulity
echoed in his tone.
She swallowed as his familiar voice peeled
back the years. Logan’s voice, as smooth and
seductive as molten dark chocolate, had been the
first thing about him to lure her. Before, he’d been
just another arrogant jock in high school she
ignored, but then she’d heard him read an excerpt
from I Sing the Body Electric in their English
class, and his voice, mellifluous and enticing, had
riveted her. Line by line, he’d reeled her in, until it
seemed he was reading the poem just for her. When
she’d finally, grudgingly looked up, she’d found his
peridot eyes fixed on her, and the look in them had
stolen her breath away.
Just like they were stealing her breath now. Oh,
for God’s sakes! What was the matter with her?
After all these years she couldn’t still be hung up
on Logan, could she? No, he’d caught her by
surprise, that was all.
“Mr. Logan, I’m so sorry,” Pablo broke in,
flapping his hands. “I tried to stop her, but—”
“You should’ve tried harder,” the blonde
snapped, flicking at her slick navy suit as if she’d
come into contact with a herd of cows. “Honestly,
Logan, I don’t know why you hired him, when he
can’t even monitor your visitors.” Her irked gaze
landed on Amber, taking in her casual outfit, and
her lips grew pinched. “You there. Have you come
to water the plants or something? You should
watch where you’re going.”
Logan was still staring at Amber, and she, God
help her, couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from
him.
“Emily, it’s Amber Miller,” he said. “We all
went to high school together, remember?”
Emily’s finely plucked eyebrows shot up.
“Amber Miller? You mean the weirdo whose dad
picked up roadkill?”
Amber lifted her chin. She was starting to
remember Emily now. One of those snotty, stuck-up
girls who’d sniggered and whispered about her, so
many of them they’d become a blur.
“Yeah, that’s right. He taught me how to deal
with vermin.” That wasn’t true; her dad had never
taught her anything in her life—except that men
could be the biggest jackasses. He’d fooled around
with her mom, got her pregnant, then skedaddled
back to his long-suffering wife, and hadn’t even
had the decency to move away to a different town.
To make matters worse, over the years he had
continued to ping-pong between his wife and
Amber’s mom. All her dad had ever done for
Amber was make her an easy target for girls like
Emily.
Emily clutched at Logan’s arm, feigning alarm.
“Ooh, yes, it’s Gingernut, all right. Still has the
temper to match her hair, I see.” She turned to
Logan and batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, well.
Come on, honey, let’s go to the country club for
lunch. I could do with a drink.”
Logan, seemingly impervious to Emily’s
fluttering eyelashes, pried her fingers from the
sleeve of his well-cut suit. “Another time, Emily.
Good talking to you. Bye for now.” With practiced
ease he steered her toward the exit before quickly
swinging back to Amber. He gestured toward his
office. “You wanted to see me?”
“Logan!” Emily pouted. Then, seeing the futility
of protesting, she glared one more time at Amber
before stalking out of the building, her four-inch
heels click-clacking in disapproval.
“Hold all my calls, Pablo,” Logan said to his
hapless assistant. “And I mean all of them.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Um, do you want any
coffee or—”
“No, thanks, Pablo. Just hold the calls.”
“Yes, sure…”
The young man’s babblings were cut short as
Logan ushered Amber into his office and shut the
door.
For the first time she was finally able to take a
good look at him without any distractions. Then,
she wished she hadn’t, because it seemed he still
had the ability to take her breath away. Much to her
disgust, her lungs tightened as she gulped in the
sight of him. In the years since she’d last seen him
he’d put on muscle in all the right places, and his
sharply tailored suit highlighted his broad chest,
slim hips, and long legs. In high school he’d been
good-looking in a boy band way, but the years had
added maturity and raw sex appeal to his hooded
green eyes, his full lips, his square chin with its
intriguing dimple. His thick, slightly wavy hair sat
a half-inch below his collar, but it suited him, its
glossy blackness inviting her to run her fingers
through— Hang on just a darn second! She was
not going to be running her fingers through Logan’s
hair, no matter how glossy and inviting it was.
What was wrong with her? Why were her
hormones going haywire now of all times?
Logan took his time looking her over, his eyes
frankly appreciative. “You look good, Amber. It’s
been a long time, but I’m glad to see you again.”
His husky voice reverberated through her; he
sounded like he really meant it. Was he glad to see
her? Even after what had happened between them?
But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted; she
had to get on top of the situation.
“I’m sorry I can’t say the same for you.”
“I don’t look good? Why? Have I put on weight
or something?” He flicked his jacket aside and
rested his hands on his hips, drawing her attention
to how well his pants fit him.
She jerked her gaze away from his legs. “I meant
I’m not glad to see you.”
He put on a hurt expression, though there was a
teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m crushed,” he said,
looking anything but. “Here I was thinking you’d
rushed in to welcome me back to Pine Falls,
maybe even invite me out for a drink.”
“I’ll leave that to Emily,” she tartly responded.
“She seemed all over you. Are you dating her?”
Logan looked startled. “No, I’m not dating her.
She’s with Deakin and Claybourne, my lawyers.
She’s Emily Claybourne.”
“Deakin and Claybourne. Lawyers. Ah, I should
have guessed.” Once again her stomach twisted
into a painful knot, just like it had a few hours ago.
She drew in a breath to steady herself. “I got a
letter from them this morning.” She felt inside the
back pocket of her jeans, her fingers slightly
clumsy, and pulled out the letter in question.
“Something about an offer to purchase.”
A puzzled look came over Logan’s face. “You got
an offer?”
“Yeah, just like all the store owners on my street
did. You want to buy us all out.” She paused. “Why
are you confused? Don’t you know about this?”
He made an impatient gesture with his hand.
“I’m planning to redevelop the block on Colfax
Road, yes, but what does that have to do with
you?”
“I own the hardware store on Colfax Road!” she
burst out, unable to contain her feelings any longer.
“Jesus, don’t you know that?”
He waved a hand. “My lawyers are responsible
for contacting the property owners.” He paused,
his eyes narrowing. “Bennett’s Home Center?
That’s really yours?”
“Yes, it’s mine, and there’s no need to look so
incredulous,” she seethed. “I might have grown up
on the wrong side of the tracks, but I do have
enough brains to run my own business.”
“But what happened to old Tom Bennett?”
“He retired two years ago and sold the business
to me. He’s down in Florida now, sipping mai tais
and wooing the ladies in his retirement village.”
She owed Tom Bennett a lot. He’d given her
part-time work while she was studying at the local
community college for her associate degree, and
then, later on, when the garden center in
Sacramento had made her redundant and she’d
wanted to return to Pine Falls, he’d hired her full
time. She’d worked hard for Tom, and in return
he’d shown her what running a small business
really took. When he’d turned sixty-eight and grew
tired of the long hours and cold winters, he’d
offered her the business, helping her to organize
her finances so that they could both achieve their
dreams. She missed Tom, still called the old man
at least once a month. He was the closest thing
she’d ever had to a father figure.
Logan was looking at her with startled eyes. Was
he so amazed that someone like her, who’d grown
up in a trailer park, with no daddy and a mom
whose proudest achievement was winning a Cher
lookalike competition, could pull herself up by her
bootstraps and own a viable business?
“Is it true?” she blurted.
“Is what true?” he asked, still looking astounded.
“That you’re planning to raze the whole block
and build a mega hardware store?” Acid spiked in
her stomach. A mega center, with a hundred times
more product than hers and the financial muscle to
undercut every one of her prices, would sound the
death knell for her little corner store. And it wasn’t
like she could simply relocate to another part of
town. A business that size would put the hammer
on all small hardware stores within a fifty-mile
radius. When she’d heard the rumor this morning
from her neighbor Peggy, who ran a bakery, her
innards had scrambled, and as each of her other
neighbors had repeated the same story, the sick
feeling had intensified. Surely it wasn’t true?
Surely all her hard work and dreams of
independence would not be wiped out?
Logan let out a breath. His gaze steadied on her,
his expression stripped of all levity. “Yes, it’s
true.”
Three small words pierced the shell of bravado
that had held her together this far. She felt herself
crack inside, felt her fears seep out like toxic oil.
But no way in hell was she going to break down in
front of Logan Wright. He’d humiliated her once, a
long time ago back in high school. She’d gotten
over it, but the scar was still there, a lingering
reminder. She wouldn’t let him hurt her again.
She slapped the letter on his desk and glowered
at him.
“Well, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.
Maybe you expect everyone to roll over and play
nice for you because you’re a Wright and your
family practically founded this town, but I’m not
one of them. I’m not selling to you or to anyone
else, so you can just take your offer and stick it
somewhere dark and uncomfortable.”
…
Logan Wright tugged at his silk tie. The damn thing
was too tight, too hot. But he knew the tie wasn’t
responsible for his rise in temperature but the
woman who stood before him, vibrating with
defiance and sass.
How many years had passed since he’d last
spoken with Amber Miller? Must be going on
twelve years. To his surprise, their last encounter
was still fresh in his memory, especially the glass
of Coke she’d dumped over his head in front of
Tatum. Yeah, he could still remember the sticky
liquid dribbling through his hair, the ice cubes
sliding down his neck, the embarrassment
reddening his face while the other diners in the
restaurant snickered at him. As if that evening
hadn’t been difficult enough, with Tatum behaving
like they were still dating and him trying to make
her understand that it really was over. He’d felt
like a giant dork, with everyone staring at him and
Tatum squealing in horror. Sure, maybe he
should’ve explained the situation to Amber
beforehand, but she shouldn’t have lashed out and
caused that ugly scene at the restaurant that had
everyone’s tongues wagging for months. No one
had ever humiliated him like that before. Or since.
He’d been mad at her then, but now he couldn’t
scrape up any ill-feeling. Maybe because he was
too busy stopping his jaw from hitting the ground—
Amber looked so damn hot. She’d always looked
hot, even back in high school, where she’d favored
black lipstick, black eye shadow, and black clothes
adorned with chains and metal studs. Now, the
angry Goth chick vibe was gone, and she looked…
stunning. That thick, shiny, russet hair of hers was
magnificent, even in a messy ponytail. Her skin
was smooth and creamy, her lips full and pink. Her
faded jeans had seen better days, but they clung to
her thighs in a very distracting manner. She stood
ramrod straight, legs slightly apart, her Timberland
boots shedding sawdust on his Persian carpet. Her
sherry-colored eyes were big, thick-lashed, and
filled with the same defiance he remembered.
She was waiting for him to speak, and her ornery
stance indicated she was ready for a fight.
He didn’t want to fight with Amber. Well, not in
the usual way, although he could see them enjoying
a different kind of tussle between the sheets
—dang, why are my thoughts headed that way?
Severing his carnal imaginings, he gestured to the
Chesterfield couch on the other side of his office.
Instinct told him to avoid them sitting on opposite
sides of his desk. Better for this encounter to be
friendly rather than adversarial.
“Why don’t we take a seat?” Logan said. Amber
hesitated for a moment before allowing him to
usher her toward the Chesterfield. “Would you like
something to drink? I can ask Pablo to make us
some coffee.”
“No, thanks.” She shot him an annoyed look as
she dropped onto the couch, clearly unappreciative
of his amiable mood. “I’m not here for a friendly
chat.”
She crossed her legs, her tight jeans once again
drawing his attention to her curvy hips and rounded
thighs. A small tear in the denim three inches
above her knee revealed a soft mound of honey-
colored flesh, and a spark of heat lit up in him,
taking him by surprise. He pulled his gaze away
from her legs, but then found himself in deeper
trouble when he caught sight of her skimpy white
T-shirt.
“Uh…” He forced himself to look her in the eye,
struggling to string together a coherent sentence out
of his overheated brain. “How long have you been
running Bennett’s?”
“I’ve been working there for more than five
years, and owned it for two.”
Bennett’s Home Center had been around for as
long as Logan could remember, enduring through
good times and bad.
“The local economy hasn’t been great,” he said.
“I imagine it’s been tough running a small business
lately.”
It wasn’t easy for bigger businesses, either.
Wright Inc, the family-operated private holding
company, owned several medium- to large-size
enterprises, and none of them had been immune to
the economic downturn. In fact, when he’d taken
over as CEO, he’d been shocked at the trouble his
family business was in. But none of that was
common knowledge, even though he’d had to close
a number of businesses and lay off workers.
Instantly, Amber’s chin went up again. “I’ve
done all right. More than all right, in fact. I’ve
increased turnover, reduced costs, and hired more
staff.”
“I’m impressed. That can’t have been easy.”
“I don’t need your compliments. I just want you
to stay out of my business.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. That whole block
is crying out for redevelopment. You kn...