Chapter One:

He'd been the rich gorgeous kid from kindergarten to senior year, where she'd been the fat, ugly, poor girl with an alcoholic father and absent mother, and while she'd been the choice target for bullies, he'd been nothing but polite. It had killed Meg every day, Nate's small acknowledgements to her presence; because it was like an afterthought no one cared to remember.

When she thought back on it, she knew it would've been better if he had bullied her, maybe then she could've spoken more than a 'hi' or 'hello' to him. Never the less, he was the boy that made her get up in the morning, her and every other girl in school. She was doomed from the get go, but it didn't matter when she was younger. Back then, Meg believed in those Cinderella romance stories. Just getting a glimpse of his flawless, lightly tanned face was enough to keep her going day to day. Unfortunately, high school came around and it stopped being enough. She knew the date, the time, and the day when it happened. It wasn't anything he did, but rather the actions of others.

At the time, she was a sophomore. To make matters worse, a freshman did it. She'd walked into the cafeteria, smiling gently at people that passed, going out of her way not to accidently bump into them for fear of a fat joke being mumbled loud enough to hear. As she walked towards the people she felt were somewhat her friends, a group of boys started chuckling, and one even held his hand out, stopping her.

"I was wondering," he'd started, "if you would go out with me?"

At first, she had thought he was serious, but he only managed a straight face for a few seconds before letting out a shout of laughter so loud everyone turned to stare.

"She actually believed me," he continued to bust a gut, slapping his friends' hands as they boisterously cheered him on.

She remembered the heat flooding her face and the moment she glanced up, her eyes locking with Nate's as he gave her a sympathetic look, clutching his model gorgeous girlfriend to his side. Meg knew that if he had laughed she would have killed herself that night, but he didn't.

His girlfriend did of course, but not him.

He would never know that he'd saved her, but just seeing him after that had no longer been enough.

After the incident, she'd withdrawn even more and eventually stopped making eye contact with people, too ashamed at what had happened. Eventually, she started missing school, forging excused notes when the school started leaving too many messages on the machine so that even her mother began to notice.

Gifted with a brain, she'd managed to keep a C average, even with all the school she'd missed. So when graduation came, she grabbed that diploma like it was a sacred rosary, and prayed she'd never have to see anyone from that school again. To make sure her prayer came true, she moved two states away.

So why, as she was juggling a new book and a cup of steaming Starbucks coffee while walking down the street, was this gorgeous man from her childhood continually cutting her off and refusing to let her pass?

She sidestepped, he followed, his eyes trained on her as if she was about to bolt, and the truth is, she was. "What do you want?" she asked with irritation, giving up trying to get around him. She cast her gaze down and she started counting the cigarette butts in the cracks of the dirty gray concrete, wishing her heart didn't feel like it was about to beat out of her chest.

She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her coffee as the sudden dampness from her hands started to slide the paper cup down. She hadn’t even gotten five feet from Barnes and Noble and already she was having problems getting home to read her book. It never failed.

"I need your help," he informed her charismatically.

She scowled at the ground, wondering why someone like him would need someone like her for anything, "For what?"

He was coming closer to her and it wasn't the fact that she could now see his extremely expensive shoes in her field of vision that made her form that conclusion. It was the soft lilting smell of ocean and pine. She allowed her lips to curve upward slightly as she remembered that scent. She'd always loved the smell of the ocean because of him.

"My father has presented me with a challenge that I think you'll be able to help with," he paused and let out a frustrated sigh before speaking again. Her eyes flicked up to examine his tightening features as he watched her.

"Is there something so interesting on that ground that you won't look me in the eyes?"

Meg jerked her head up, not bothering to remove the scowl from her face. She watched his breath catch and the look of surprise that crossed his gorgeous face made her stomach clench with a need she'd always ignored.

"What is your name?" he asked mystified, his eyes searching her face as if he was drinking her in.

It was almost as if he was just seeing her for the first time…"Wait, what?"

Maybe she hadn't heard right.

The sexy lift at the corner of his mouth and the deep, seemingly never-ending pools of cerulean colored iris's, surrounded by charcoal black lashes, had her forgetting the question she'd just asked.

"Do you have a name?" he questioned again.

Her eyes widened and a familiar pain vibrated beneath her breast. She licked her dry, slightly cracked bottom lip, forcing a sudden surge of anger down. She wasn't sure if the source of that anger was that he didn't remember her, or because she allowed the knowledge of that fact to hurt her so much. Taking a deep, soul-shaking breath, she lifted her gaze to his, making eye contact once more.

"Don't you know who I am?"

He frowned, caught so off guard by the question that he took a step back to better assess her. "Should I know you?"

Why would he remember her?

She forced a short laugh out and cringed at the slight hysterical melody to it. Hoping she covered it well, she shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Of course not," she mumbled. "It's just, you looked familiar. I'm sorry, that was er-strange?"

Was she rambling?

Did people still say 'strange'?

She wasn't really up to date with what people wore, what they said, or you know, just people in general. Being around people was the equivalent of being in pain. If you let someone get too close, they will play you like a bad joke, and she wasn't that wide-eyed innocent girl that always saw the good in people anymore, so she stayed away.

Of course, he wouldn't remember her.

He would never know that, once upon a time, he was her world, and maybe him not knowing was mainly her fault for never mentioning it to him, but she was a realist above all else. Who could ever love someone like her?

"Meg."

He raised an eyebrow and pushed carelessly at the long sleeves of his white tuxedo shirt, exposing lightly bronzed, sculpted forearms. "Is that short for something?"

It was, but she was perplexed with the notion of telling him anymore. They'd gone to school together for twelve years, he was bound to know her name at least, but she was probably giving herself too much credit.

It's not like he was asking for her last name anyhow.

"Megeara."

He chuckled and shifted closer to her. She eyed him uneasily taking a step back, cradling her new Barnes and Noble purchase to her chest, wishing she could throw away her coffee so that she'd have one extra hand to protect herself with.

Meg couldn't help thinking that if only she could have waited for the new Karen Marie Moning book, then she wouldn't be in this mess right now.

He stuck his face in her line of vision. "That's a mouthful," he smiled gently, continuing his subtle shifts in her direction. "I'm Nathanial Vice, Nate actually."

"Nathanial Vice Nate Actually? Wow, that's more of a mouthful than mine."

He blinked a few times as he registered what she'd just said. "No-no, I mean," he stopped speaking, looking slightly flustered as he tried to continue, but nothing came out. The tips of his fingers reached and touched the base of his neck as he cleared his throat. "It's just Nate, just Nate."

"I was kidding, Just Nate."

Honestly, she didn't know where she'd gotten the proverbial balls to tease him, but that breath taking smile that spread across his face made her remember, for the second time since he'd stopped her, that she actually had more than just pain and depression in that cold heart of hers.

"The more I talk to you, the more perfect I think this is going to be," he mumbled to himself.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, confused and wondering if she'd heard correctly.

"I mentioned that I could use your help. A bet was made, involving my father and my brother," he added as an afterthought, "and I'd like you to help me win it."

If she had a free hand, she would have popped a finger in her ear to clean it out. "What?"

"Our annual family reunion in Vale is in three days and my father bet me that I couldn't fool the other members of the family that I'd 'settled down,'" he chuckled as he used air quotations with his middle and index finger, emphasizing the last two words. "My younger brother just happened to be in the room at the time," he shrugged simply.

"So-o-o," she drawled out, "what do you want?"

Meg asked it a little too snappishly, but Nate didn't seem to care or notice for that matter, he simply grinned wider.

"You are perfect."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters I love your shirt and my family will hate it."

What the hell?

She glanced down at her baggy white t-shirt, hiding slightly behind a tattered brown coat that had only a few buttons left. All it said was "patience is not one of my virtues, so back the hell off."

"It doesn't hurt that you're easy on the eyes either."

Easy on the eyes? What exactly did that mean? That she was only a little ugly?

Pfft, she mentally scoffed.

"You'll do it?" he asked suddenly.

She frowned, faintly remembering him rambling off a few more facts, but not actually hearing them. Meg started to shake her head to decline, but he stopped her by raising his hand, a single finger lifted.

"There's pay and you'll be compensated for time off work."

She failed to tell him that wouldn't be an issue since all she needed to do her work was be in front of a computer with a red correction pen.

"Also, if time off is a problem, I can either speak to your supervisor, or find someone in your profession to do your work. So please say you will? I really can't accept no for an answer you see."

"O-ka-a-y," she dragged out, thinking he'd lost a few marbles with age.

"Fabulous," he grinned smugly, practically bouncing on his toes with happiness. As if remembering something, he suddenly started padding at his chest, then at his side where his hand darted into his pocket, pulling out a small card that undoubtedly had his information on it. "Please call me if you have any issues with getting the time off. Remember, it's a two week event."

Two weeks! She had a mental heart attack.

When had he said that?

Hell, what did it matter? She wouldn't do this even if she'd just found out she had a month to live, even if hell froze over, even if…

"Meg? Did you hear me?"

She lifted her gaze, eyes wide with surprise. "Um, huh?" was all she could manage.

"It will be well worth your while," he chucked her under the chin, and with a saucy wink added, "Hope you can ski."

When he started to walk away, she called out to him. "I never agreed!"

"You will," he replied confidently, never turning around, but lifting his hand as if dismissing her.

"You're insane!" she screamed at him.

Now that earned her another look and the slowest, yet sexiest grin she'd ever seen. She cleared her throat as she felt her heartbeat quicken and her gut tightening. Licking her bottom lip, she shifted her feet and straightened her back. She stood stiff, teeth clenched, wanting to ward off this foreign feeling of need as she watched him turn around and continue on his way.

Meg crumpled his information card in her hand, wondering how much time he'd had in getting that smile so perfect.

She felt her lower lip tremble. Whether it was from fear or the pain of memories from the past, she didn't know. "You're even more beautiful than I remember," she whispered as a gentle wind ruffled her hair.

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