Kissing a Billionaire

by Hart, Taylor

  He smiled a little. “I’m kind of in a bad mood this morning, I guess. I shouldn’t worry about this event. You pulled off the last one and did great.”

  “That’s why you brought me here.” She lightened her tone so he would know she wasn’t offended that he’d been grumbling.

  “It is why,” he said. “And I know you’ll do great. Are plans solid enough that I can mention it at meetings today, or is it still up in the air?”

  She shook her head. “No reason you couldn’t. I’ll have invitations printed up today and distributed tomorrow so it’s official and professional, but you can tell people. I don’t anticipate any of the big details changing.”

  “This is a very important event,” he said, pointedly. “Striking deals here means getting a foothold in the European market. That expansion is a multi-million-dollar opportunity.”

  “The mingle will help with that goal,” she said. “Just like you want it to.”

  Where was this coming from? He hadn’t been directly critical, but there’d been a heavy hint of it.

  “And has Brogan been doing anything to plan this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm.” It was a sound of mingled surprise and doubt.

  “He has. He had a good list of venues that we checked and discussed. He knew the type of music that would be most appreciated. And he’s going to find and hire the band.”

  “He’s a multi-tasker.” Sterling spoke a little dryly.

  “We’ve gotten a lot done,” she said.

  “Apparently.” He rose, coffee cup still in his hand.

  “Are you upset with me?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I just want this to go well.”

  “It will,” she said.

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  He gave a quick nod and left. Keighley pushed out a breath, but it didn’t relieve the tension.

  She had her phone out the next instant and texted Brogan. “DEFCON 1.”

  Keighley grabbed another cup of tea on her way back up to her room. She needed to make calls, finalize things. Design an invitation and find a printer. By the end of the day, the big bits needed to all be in place. She would not have another morning meeting with Sterling like the one she’d just had.

  She’d laid out her bullet journal, pens, the menu the hotel had given her the night before, and the list of information she’d gotten from Sterling on her first day in Dublin. She opened her laptop. Before she could even start designing the invitation, her phone buzzed.

  A text. She glanced. It was Brogan. Perfect.

  She opened the text. “What’s happened?”

  Some of her strain eased. Brogan would jump in and help. She knew he would; and not just because he’d been hired to. “Sterling is worried the event won’t be ready in time, or good enough.”

  She watched the three dots. This was helping, weirdly enough. She’d only known him three days, but he’d somehow become her friend.

  “What else needs to be done?” he texted.

  Her deep breaths were coming easier. “Design, print, and send out invites. Finalize menu. Decor. And a band. We need a band.”

  “I’m working on another event this morning. But I’ll have a band for Westcott’s do by this afternoon. Fast enough?”

  That’d work. She sent a thumbs-up emoji.

  “Do you have a printer for the invites?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll send you a few reliable shops. Any of them will do.”

  “Awesome.” She leaned back in her chair and let the tension slide from her shoulders. They were making progress. Sterling hadn’t seen it, but they were.

  The next morning meeting would be a million times better. It had to be.

  Keighley hadn’t stopped working all day. She’d ordered room service and snatched bites between texts, phone calls, and emails. The invites made it out to the printer by noon. They were delivered to the hotel by two o’clock. She delivered them to all the companies that were located within walking distance of The Marker Hotel. Those further out she sent with a courier service. Sterling, she had discovered when planning the event in New York, had money enough to spend that he would rather spend more to get things done quickly and right the first time.

  On her way back to The Marker after dropping off the last of the invitations, her phone buzzed. She hoped it was Sterling asking how things were going. Giving him an impressive update would have done her ego a lot of good. But it was Brogan, which was surprisingly even better.

  “Do you have dinner plans?”

  She texted back, “No.”

  He answered with a destination name and address and few brief directions. “Half six?”

  She stared at that for a long while, no idea what he meant by that. Finally she answered, “Could you translate that into American?”

  “6:30.”

  She grinned. Now and then, the people here said something that made no sense even though they were speaking English. It was kind of fun to try to figure it out.

  “Sounds great. See you then.”

  She stopped at the concierge desk and asked about the place where Brogan was meeting her. “I don’t know if I ought to change into something more formal or…?”

  The man shook his head. “It’s a pub. You’ll fit in grand wearing just what you are.”

  “A pub?”

  He nodded. “A great spot. Music’s always bang on.”

  That sounded awesome. Arriving there at 6:30, she decided “awesome” was the exact right word for it. It was obviously old, but it felt totally alive. It was bright and open. It was busy without being so crowded that it was uncomfortable. Perfect.

  She spotted Brogan quickly. He smiled and wove his way over to her. “You found the place.”

  “I had very good directions.” She looked around again, still impressed. “Maybe we should have held Sterling’s event here. This place is great.”

  “He would’ve hated it.” Brogan spoke with unwavering conviction.

  “Why do you say that?”

  He walked with her back toward the table he’d been sitting at. “The day he hired me on, we met at the hotel bar. He ordered some fancy drink I’d never heard of. I ordered a Guinness. He said, and I quote, ‘Hmm.’”

  It was the exact “hmm” she’d heard from Sterling a couple of times the last two days. Surprise, doubt, confusion. Maybe even a little disapproval.

  “Any man who looks down his nose at a Guinness isn’t going to be caught with even one foot in the door of a place like this. The hotel terrace is a better spot. You chose well there.”

  “We chose well.” She wasn’t the only one who’d narrowed in on that location.

  “Let me know what you think of the boys playing trad tonight,” he said. “I think they’d be a good choice for Sterling’s do. I’ve hired them on before. Reliable. Affordable. Talented.”

  “They sound perfect.”

  “That’s the hope.”

  She laughed. Man, that felt good after the day she’d had.

  He watched her with his brow pulled a little. “You look tired.”

  “I worked nonstop today,” she said. “I got everything done I possibly could, and a few things that were barely possible.” She rubbed at her tired eyes. “Maybe Sterling won’t lecture me tomorrow morning.”

  “He lectured you?” Brogan signaled to the server, not missing a beat in their conversation. “What about?”

  “I told him all the things we’ve figured out and finalized. He kept saying ‘Really? That’s done? Are you sure? You really got that done?’ It was like he was convinced we hadn’t accomplished anything.”

  “Did he do that ‘Hmm’ thing?”

  Keighley bit back a smile.

  Brogan’s jaw clenched a bit. “That sound makes a person want to punch the man in the nose.”

  “Punching him never entered my mind,” she said. “I was too caught off guard to do anything but sputter through a bunch of reass
urances. It was just so frustrating. He knows I’m reliable and that I do good work. It’s the whole reason he brought me here to plan this event. But he was acting like I was a total flake. It was… stupid.”

  “Well, Sterling Westcott may be wealthy, but he’s not that bright.”

  The server arrived in exactly that moment, her paper pad ready to take their order.

  “How ya, Mary?” Brogan greeted her.

  “Well,” she said.

  “This here’s Keighley, from New York. Her day’s been a misery. I figured I’d best fill her up with good food so she doesn’t tear my head off.”

  Mary nodded. “A fine idea.” She turned a friendly smile on Keighley. “All the food’s good here. And Jackie and the lads are playing tonight. That’ll liven up the place.”

  They put in their orders, then talked, but not about Sterling or the event they were planning. She asked about Brogan’s other job, the one he’d been working on that day. He asked about the events she’d planned in New York. She showed him some of the pictures she’d posted from their day of touristing, earning one of his bubbling laughs.

  “A fellow doesn’t often get to be a tourist in his own hometown. It was fun to pretend for a day.”

  “It was fun.” She took a bite of the shepherd’s pie Brogan had suggested she order. “Oh, this is good.”

  He grinned. “Did you think I was lying?”

  “You did tell me yesterday that you kissed the Blarney Stone.”

  “That makes a person talkative, not dishonest.”

  “And what does shepherd’s pie make a person?” she asked after another bite.

  “Very, very happy.”

  The rest of the night went like that. Bantering and laughing. Swapping stories of events gone awry, childhood mishaps. She laughed more than she had in a very long time. It was fun and relaxing, and she still managed to get some work done. The band was perfect, and Brogan arranged with them before the night was over to play for Sterling’s mingle.

  She was a good event planner and a hard worker, but Brogan was teaching her something about making that work fun and making time for something other than planning other people’s memorable moments.

  If she didn’t have her standing morning meeting with Sterling, she would have been happy to stay all night, chatting and listening to music, laughing with Brogan and the friends he introduced her to. But, she wanted her next meeting with him to go better than her last.

  “I probably need to go,” she said.

  “Really?” He sounded genuinely disappointed. That did her a world of good.

  “I have my daily meeting with Sterling in the morning. If he lectures me again and I’m exhausted, I’ll probably either tell him off or cry.”

  Brogan smiled. “I’d enjoy watching you tell him off.”

  He lighted her heart. She appreciated that so much. “And cry? Would you enjoy watching that too?”

  “No.” He set his hand on hers where it rested on the tabletop. “Not at all.”

  “Then I should go.” She kept her hand in his. She liked the feel of it. “The event we’re planning is going to be great, and I don’t want to undermine that by making Sterling think I’m an idiot.”

  Brogan shook his head. “If he thinks that, he’s the idiot.”

  She kind of loved the way he said “idiot.” His Irish accent turned it into something more like “idjet,” and it made her smile.

  “Come on, then,” he said. “I’ll walk you back.”

  “I won’t say no.”

  They moved toward the door, still hand in hand. She couldn’t remember the last time she held hands with someone. It was sweet and tender and… she loved it.

  He waved to a friend they’d chatted with. “We’re gonna head on.”

  His friend nodded. “Ah, sure. Come ’round again, Keighley.”

  They stepped out. Brogan made a quick check of the street then, tugging her along by the hand, crossed quickly.

  “What time do you meet with Sterling tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Eight o’clock.”

  That brought his eyes to her again. “In the morning?”

  She laughed out loud. “You Irish aren’t fans of the a.m., are you?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t believe in it.”

  “I’ll text you tomorrow and tell you all about it— sometime after noon.”

  “That’d be appreciated.”

  The walk back to The Marker felt shorter than she knew it was. She enjoyed being with Brogan, and he seemed to enjoy her company as well.

  He rode with her up the elevator. He even slipped his arm around her and tucked her in close. She could grow used to that.

  At the door to her room, he leaned against the wall beside the doorframe. “Don’t let Sterling talk down to you tomorrow. You’re planning a great event for him; he shouldn’t get to make you feel otherwise.”

  She looked up at him. “You’re right. I’ve wanted him to approve of me so badly that I basically let him decide if I deserve to be approved of.”

  “You do, though. Every person I introduced you to tonight liked you straight off. The more I know you, the more I like you. If Sterling Westcott can’t see that, he’s not worth your worry.”

  She set her hand on his arm. “Thank you.” Keighley stretched up enough to press a quick, light kiss to his lips before stepping back again.

  She could tell she was blushing a little, but he grinned, clearly not offended.

  “Sleep well, Keighley. Fight the good fight in the morning and tell me how it goes. But do wait until a less miserable hour.”

  “I will.” She stood in the doorway and watched as he walked back down the hall, his hands stuffed in his pockets, whistling one of the tunes the band had played that night.

  Keighley couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her heart flip around like it was doing now. He was wonderful. She had spent so many weeks wondering what it would take to catch Sterling’s eye and what it would be like to have him fall for her and… and maybe she was the “idjet.”

  Keighley headed to the lobby early enough to settle in and relax before there was any chance Sterling would be there. She brought a list with her so he wouldn’t catch her off guard if he asked again what she’d been spending her time on. Impressing him on a personal level didn’t really matter much anymore; she simply wasn’t going to let his doubts become her doubts like she had the morning before.

  She set her list on the side table, on top of the receipts for all the things she’d purchased and arranged. She’d practiced in front of her mirror that morning answers to questions she anticipated him asking. This meeting would go better than the last one.

  Sleep had been elusive the night before. Nervousness about the next morning. Thoughts of Brogan. Shock that she’d kissed him. She’d texted her best friend, which had ended up in hours of back and forth.

  Keighley pulled out her phone. Another text had come while she was asleep. She’d read it at least a dozen times already, but she did again. “You better hide Brogan in your suitcase and bring him back with you.”

  If only. Sterling would be coming back to New York. It was amazing how disappointing that had become in only a few days.

  He arrived just as she was finishing her tea. His demeanor was a lot more at-ease than the day before. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning.”

  He sat in his usual spot but didn’t immediately launch into questions. “I was frustrated yesterday, and I’m sorry about that.”

  She hadn’t expected to hear an apology first thing. “I noticed. But I got a lot done yesterday, so there’s less for you to be worried about now.” Keighley reached for her papers, but he spoke again before she could begin rattling off her list.

  “I knew you would, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  Wow. He was being more gracious than she ever would have guessed. “We finished almost all of the arrangements yesterday. I’m picking out some flowers and other de
corative elements today, but otherwise, it’ll just be keeping tabs on everything and checking in with anyone we don’t get an RSVP from.”

  “We?” he asked.

  “Brogan and I,” she said.

  “Oh.” He took a sip of coffee. “I didn’t realize he was still part of it.”

  “You didn’t fire him, did you?” She hadn’t heard he had.

  Sterling shook his head. “I just assumed you were getting the work done.”

  “I am.” Hadn’t they just established that?

  “He’s the reason you fell behind two days ago. Is it really smart to—”

  “I didn’t fall behind,” she said. “Everything got done on time and on schedule.”

  He didn’t look at all convinced. “And he’s been part of it?”

  “That’s why you hired him. He’s good at what he does.”

  He muttered something under his breath as he drank more coffee.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  He shook his head, a look of obvious annoyance in his eyes. “Never mind.”

  Her frustration was growing. “If you have a complaint, I’d like to hear it.”

  “It wasn’t a complaint,” he said.

  “No,” a familiar Irish voice answered, “it was an insult.”

  She looked over at Brogan, listening from not far away at all. His gaze on Sterling was hard and cold.

  “Why would you insult him?” she asked Sterling. “He’s worked hard.”

  “It wasn’t me he was insulting,” Brogan said.

  Then it was her.

  “Keighley’s been working hard,” Brogan said. “And this event of yours is going to be brilliant because of her. I’d say you owe here an apology.”

  “She works for me,” Sterling said. “And so do you. I don’t apologize to employees.”

  “I’m not your employee.” Keighley’s voice and fire returned very suddenly. She’d spent her first day with Brogan insisting Sterling wasn’t her boss. She wasn’t going to cave on that now. “I don’t require you to apologize, but I will be treated with professional respect.”

  Apparently no one had ever spoken to Sterling that way. He looked surprised, baffled. How had she thought this man was anyone’s ideal, let alone hers?