For our current purposes, however, Emily would do just fine. Above all else, we needed someone the people could relate to. Someone they’d fall in love with. And Emily was easy to fall for, as I’d discovered ten years ago. She was warm and friendly and had this bright, bold way of smiling.
I finished my bourbon and raised my glass for another.
“Something on your mind, sir?” Brendan said from behind the bar, running a cloth inside the bowl of a gigantic wine glass. He held it to the light and peered at it for a long moment. Satisfied, he slid the glass onto a shelf.
“How many times have I asked you to call me Kit?” I replied. I was a regular here at Jacob’s Club, a members-only restaurant; it occupied a townhouse in the center of Mayfair, not far from my apartment at Primrose Palace. I liked it because it was discreet and the food was excellent. But most of all, I liked it because of Brendan. In my opinion, he was the best bartender in the city, and the friendliest, too.
He grinned. “Many times, sir, and you’ll have to ask many more. So what’s got you drowning your sorrows in the brown liquor this evening?”
“It can’t be a girl,” a familiar voice said. My brother Rob leaned an elbow onto the bar beside me. “Kit hasn’t kept anyone around long enough to fall in love. Which means he doesn’t have any heartbreak to drown.”
I groaned. “Hello to you too. And maybe it is a girl this time.”
Rob clapped a hand onto my shoulder. “I’m afraid the Queen doesn’t count, old chap. She is our grandmother.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Something to do?” I said. “I’ve got an important—”
“Meeting?”
“Date, actually.” The less Rob knew right now, the better.
His brows shot up as he sipped the gin and tonic Brendan had slid across the bar. “Really? Let me guess. Another model. No! The Duke of Pembroke’s daughter—the younger one this time.”
“Poppy? Didn’t you date her?”
“I wouldn’t use the word date. Ah, Poppy.” Rob shook his head, his mouth curled into a small, secret smile as he stared off into the distance. “What a minx.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I was starting to feel like I lived in a constant state of eye-roll suppression. I loved my family, but dear God were they trying sometimes.
“Not Poppy,” I said. “Someone new. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Of course it’s my business! If she’s got you drinking bourbon, it must be serious. She could be the potential future wife of my favorite brother.”
I sipped at my drink. “I thought Jack was your favorite brother.”
“He was, until he stole one of my recent visitor’s clothes while we were in the shower. He’d been so amused. She, however, had not—I had to take the poor dear home wrapped in a towel.”
This time I did roll my eyes. My younger twin brothers had been trouble makers since they were in nappies, the two of them brawling their way through their childhood. I kept waiting for them to grow up—at twenty six, you’d think they wouldn’t be amused by pranks and practical jokes anymore—but I was beginning to realize they probably never would.
“Is there anyone in London you haven’t slept with?” I asked.
Rob pursed his lips, like he had to give the question some serious thought. “I certainly hope so. I’ve got no plans to settle down anytime soon.”
“How shocking.”
“Tell me about this girl.” He sipped his gin. “What’s her name?”
Holding my glass between my thumb and middle finger, I picked it up and spun it around on the bar. What did one say about one’s potential fake fiancée? Emily hadn’t agreed to my proposal yet. She hadn’t even heard it. And there was a chance she wouldn’t even show. The last thing I needed was Rob teasing me about being stood up.
Thankfully the hostess appeared at that moment at the top of the stairs, followed by a gorgeous woman with bright red lips and green eyes. The woman smiled at me.
I did a double take, my heart hiccupping.
Emily.
It was Emily.
Jesus Christ, she looked amazing. She was absolutely slaying the sexy, sophisticated one-shouldered sheath dress she wore. It was black, and tight enough that I could just make out the imprint of a strappy, teeny tiny something at her hip. For a moment my imagination spun out. I imagined it was a thong, also black, lacy and delicate. Underneath, her cunt was hot.
I remembered the feel of that cunt coming around my fingers. She’d been so tight. So soft. So sensitive and quick to come.
I shoved the thought aside. I couldn’t think about those things. Couldn’t let her get under my skin.
Beside me, Rob set down his drink. We were both staring at her.
“She’s proper fit, isn’t she?” he murmured, pushing off the bar. “Why, hello, love—”
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t you fucking dare, Robert.”
Emily was still smiling at me. “Hello, Kit.”
“Hello,” I said. It came out hoarse. All wrong. What the fuck? I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hello, Emily. You look…beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she replied. For a moment we stood awkwardly in front of each other. I was a master of etiquette. It had been drilled into me since infancy. But in that moment, I had no bloody clue how I should greet Emily.
Rob elbowed me. “Introduce us, Kit.”
“Right.” I blinked. “Of course. Emily, this is my brother Robert. Rob, this is Emily.”
Rob offered her his cheesiest, most lethal smile as he shook her hand.
“You’ve got my brother drinking brown liquor,” he said, all charm and confidence. My fingers inexplicably tightened around my glass. “I like you already.”
Emily arched a brow. “Bourbon? Sounds delicious.”
“Why don’t you come have one with us? My treat,” Rob said, gesturing to the bar.
“No. Nope.” I stepped between them. “Emily and I have got a table for dinner. We must be off, I’m afraid.”
Rob bit back a grin. “All right. Have fun. Lovely to meet you, Emily. I hope to see you again.”
“You as well,” she said.
I tried very hard not to check out Emily’s perfect ass as the hostess led us through the club to the dining room. The way her hips swayed as she walked in her towering heels—well. Suffice it to say it filled my head with very unbusinesslike thoughts. Or maybe thoughts of a different kind of business altogether.
I blinked, focusing my gaze on the carpet beneath my feet. Rob was starting to rub off on me. That bloke was a bloody animal.
The hostess led us to the best—and most discreet—table in the house. It was tucked into its own little alcove, the lighting soft and low. Emily slid into the green velvet booth, while I took the chair opposite.
We met eyes across the table. My body hummed with energy. Anticipation. I couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad feeling.
“Nice place,” she said, glancing at the room around us.
“Nice dress,” I said.
Her mouth twitched. “Thank you.”
I ordered a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild and waited until we were through our first glass to start feeling Emily out.
“So tell me about you,” I said. “What you’ve been up to since university.”
Emily tilted her head and peered at me from the corner of her eye. “Why do I get the feeling I’m being interviewed again?”
I’d forgotten how smart she was. Of course she’d see through this whole charade.
Still. I wasn’t ready to show her my cards just yet.
“You’re not.” I cleared my throat for the hundredth time. “It’s just been a while, that’s all. I read your résumé and went through your portfolio. Incredible work. You started your own firm?”
She looked at me for another beat. Then she leaned forward and settled her forearms on the table. She slid the stem of her glass between her first and middle fingers, giving it a quick twirl. I got the
feeling she didn’t want to talk about her business. Why? She’d been so excited about it in class. So hungry for the chance to get out in the world and do something.
Emily sighed. “I did. I started it right after I graduated, as a matter of fact. Well, I started with a blog, really. And as luck would have it, 2007 turned out to be the beginning of a golden age for blogging. I got small projects at first. You know, readers hiring me to give their apartments some personality. But I worked hard to get my name out there—”
“Using the marketing strategies you learned in my class, obviously.”
“Obviously,” she said, the edges of her mouth curling upward. “And a few years later, business started to boom. I hired my first assistant, Aly. We got so busy I had to hire three more. Running your own business is hard, don’t get me wrong. But I loved every minute of it.”
I sipped my wine, meeting Emily’s eyes. “You said ‘loved’—past tense.”
She shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. The weariness I’d seen in her eyes earlier was back. No, it wasn’t weariness—it was sadness.
It was a broken heart.
“My husband and I got divorced last year. Because we were married when I’d started EP Designs, he owned a fifty percent stake in the business.”
I already saw where this was going. “That’s a shit rule.”
“No kidding. But it’s the law, so...” Emily took a big gulp of wine. “Anyway. I tried to buy him out of his fifty percent—buy back his stake in the business. Luke wanted more, though.”
My heart throbbed, once, sending an almost audible rush of blood through my skin. “Is this the same Luke—”
“Yes.” She nodded, falling back into the booth. “He said he wouldn’t sell me his stake for less than one hundred and fifty percent of its value. Which of course was just the amount that would put us, as a business, on life support. But I had no choice. I wanted Luke out of the picture for good. So I paid his price. It broke me, and he knew it. He wanted EP Designs to limp and die a slow, painful death. And that is exactly what’s happened.”
I set down my glass and looked at her. I felt terribly for her. I did, truly. But that didn’t stop the triumph from blooming inside my chest.
I’d just found out how to get Emily to agree to my insane proposition. Knowing I’d help revive the firm she clearly loved also made me feel like slightly less of a dickwad for what I was about to ask. I wanted Emily to find success. She deserved it.
“EP Designs is going bankrupt?” I asked carefully.
“Yes, unfortunately.” She nodded again, blinking hard. “This trip is our last hurrah before our doors close for good. I tried everything I could to dig us out of the hole Luke put us in, but…” Her eyes flicked to meet mine. “It wasn’t enough.”
The waiter returned. I ordered some oysters and another bottle of wine.
“I’m curious,” I said when he left. “What would you need to get EP Designs back on its feet?”
Emily puckered her lips to the side side, shrugging. She looked down at her wine. “Right now? Probably close to two hundred grand. Something ridiculous like that.”
“Done.”
Her gaze darted to my face. “What?”
“I said it’s done.” I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin. “I’ll give you the two hundred k, plus the School for the Arts commission.”
Emily was staring at me like I’d just told her I was pregnant.
“That’s not very funny, Kit.”
I put my hands on the table. “I wasn’t joking, Emily.”
Her lips moved, like she was practicing what she was about to say in her head.
“So you’re just…you’re just going to swoop in and save my company. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“That’s what I hope to do, yes.”
I watched the long, elegant lines of her throat move as she swallowed. “What do you want in return?”
“I want you to marry me.”
Emily’s eyes bulged. “You’re still not joking, are you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
* * *
Read the rest of Kit and Emily’s story for FREE in Kindle Unlimited HERE!
Acknowledgments
In many ways, SOUTHERN CHARMER is the book I’ve worked my whole career to be able to write. Writing is never easy, but sometimes, when plot and character and theme come together just so, it can be absolute magic. I have never felt such joy working on a story as I did writing this one. I have many, many people to thank for helping me get here.
First, enormous thanks to my editor, Kristin Anders. Your belief in this book—and in my career—is what keeps me going on the hard days. You’re insanely talented, and I am lucky to call you a friend.
I also want to extend a gigantic thanks to Jodi, my PA and all around savior/book doula/scheduling wizard/genius beta reader. I am so not kidding when I say you are single handedly helping me transform my career into the one I’ve always dreamed of having. I am so grateful to have you in my circle. Thank you lady for all the hard work you do—it does not go unnoticed.
I have the best beta team on the planet. Jodi, Heather, and Quinn—you ladies continue to blow my mind with your insightful comments. Also, thanks for catching my million and a half typos. This book would be pretty much unreadable without your help polishing it.
Thanks to Najla, my INCREDIBLE cover artist. You knocked it out of the park with this one, and on the first pass no less! I can’t wait to see the work we’ll do together in the future.
Thanks to Tandy, my awesome proofreader, for making this book shine.
Thanks to my insanely great, insanely enthusiastic ARC team. I so, so appreciate you taking the time to not only read my books, but to review them, too. Reviews make all the difference to new(ish) authors like me!
Thanks to my reader group, The City Girls, and to my incredible admins, Monique, Ingrid, Raquel, and Whitney. Y’all are so generous with your time and talent, and I am so stupid lucky to call you friends. Thank you ladies!
I am continually in awe of the amazing authors I’ve met over the past few years. There are too many names to list here, but I just want to thank you all for inspiring me, listening to me, and supporting me. Your generosity is humbling. Thank you!
And of course I have to thank my family, my friends, and ALWAYS, always my readers. Y’all are the reason I get to wake up and write every day. Thank you for making my dreams come true.
Also by Jessica Peterson
THE FLINGS WITH KINGS SERIES
Royal. Ridiculously Hot. Totally Off Limits…
Available for FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Royal Ruin (Flings With Kings #1)
Royal Rebel (Flings With Kings #2)
Royal Rogue (Flings With Kings #3)
THE STUDY ABROAD SERIES
Studying Abroad Just Got a Whole Lot Sexier…
A Series of Sexy Interconnected Standalone Romances
Read Them All for FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Spanish Lessons (Study Abroad #1)
Lessons in Gravity (Study Abroad #2)
Lessons in Letting Go (Study Abroad #3)
Lessons in Losing It (Study Abroad #4)
About the Author
Jessica Peterson writes smokin’ hot romance set in her favorite cities around the world. She grew up on a steady diet of Mr. Darcy, Edward Cullen, and Jamie Frasier, and it wasn’t long before she started writing swoon-worthy heroes of her own. She loves strong coffee, stronger heroines, and heroes with hot accents.
She lives in Charlotte, NC with her husband Ben and her smelly Goldendoodle, Martha Bean.
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Southern Charmer: A Charleston Heat Novel Page 28
