His eyebrow shot up. “One twenty? I scored a single and two triples.”
“Third base? Don’t you have to at least touch me to hit third?”
His brow cocked up, along with the side of his mouth. A low laugh rumbled through him. “Just how much did you drink tonight?”
She held up her fingers, counting. “One, no, two before you guys got here. Another one at the table.” She held up her empty glass. “And this makes four.”
As if the admission triggered a magic release button, all the alcohol rushed through her bloodstream and straight to her head. The room took a slow spin, blurring all the people into a kaleidoscope of colors. She tried to follow the spinning rainbow, but instead her feet twisted up and she found herself falling. Smack. Into. David’s arms.
“I think maybe four might have been too m-m-many.”
David laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist, steering her toward the door. “You think? Darling, I’ve never seen you drink more than one before.” He opened the door of his truck and scooped her up in his arms, placing her on the seat. “Let’s get you home before you do something you’ll regret.”
Tawny was killing him. Her head rested on his shoulder as he drove, her hand ran figure eights on his thigh. Getting higher and higher with each rotation. If he didn’t get her home soon, he’d do something he’d regret.
He kept his eyes on the road. If he glanced down at Tawny, he could see straight down her dress to the lacy scraps of material and the creamy, plump flesh beneath. He was doing his best not to groan as she shifted and her hem rose, exposing a long expanse of bare leg. Did she have on matching panties? A skimpy thong or red lace? Either way, he imagined slipping them down those sweet thighs and hearing her scream out his name.
Thankfully it took no more than a few minutes to drive to her place. “We’re here, darling.”
“Hmm.”
Her head remained on his shoulder, with her eyes closed and a dreamy smile in place. The figure eights reached new levels, pushing his resistance to the maximum before he caved.
“You okay?”
“Mmm-hmm. Comfy.”
Any other time those words would be music to his ears, but not now when she was four sheets to the wind. Come morning, she’d hate him more than herself. Nope, not worth it.
“Come on, darling, let’s get you inside where you’ll be more comfortable in your bed instead of this hard bench seat.”
“Mmm, join me?”
“What?” Holy cripes, she was toasted. “Come on, you, slide on over here, and your good friend Dave will get you safely inside.”
With his help she scooted to the edge of the seat and slipped out of the cab of the truck, falling smack against his chest with her soft boobs. What a great time for him to decide to play the friend role.
“David, I don’t think I can.”
“Can what?”
“Walk. My feet don’t seem to listen to my brain.”
Someone have mercy and shoot him now. Dave reached down, slipped an arm behind her knees, and swung her up. She didn’t fight him as he expected; instead, she rested her head against his shoulder and let out a deep sigh. Out of all the women he’d known, and yeah, there’d been a few, this was the one that would be his undoing. His best friend’s fiancé’s best friend.
In order to open the front door, he had to let her down. Keeping one arm around her waist so she didn’t stumble backward off the front steps, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. He planned to sweep her back up, carry her to the couch. Tawny had other ideas in mind as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. From chest to thighs he could feel every soft, tantalizing inch of her.
“Keep it up, I’m going to forget I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”
“Maybe you should forget.”
He walked her backward into the living room. Even though they’d known each other for months, this was the first time he’d been in her place. The room was done in muted shades of blue and gray, with bright bursts of color throughout. He kept backing her up until her legs met with the overstuffed couch. Gently he pushed her toward it.
“Darling, as much as I’d love to forget and take you up on the invitation your pouty lips are making, you’d hate both of us tomorrow.” He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and backed away. “Ask me when you’re sober.”
Chapter Three
Three long weeks after losing her job, the light at the end of the tunnel shined brightly down on Tawny. Sitting in the plush reception area of NE Event Solutions, she waited to be called in for a job interview. Too bad she had company. Also waiting to be interviewed was a guy named Brad. Good-looking in a metro sort of way: slicked-back hair, chic clothing, buffed nails, dazzling smile. Tawny was willing to bet the guy waxed more than any woman she knew.
While Tawny mentally reviewed her resume and potential answers to the interviewer’s questions, Brad and the receptionist, Stacy, chatted. They started out discussing recent movies they’d both seen or wanted to see. Tawny hadn’t seen any of them. From there, the discussion switched to favorite bands and which concerts they’d caught that year. Tawny hadn’t attended any of those either. Since it was summer, no discussion could be complete—at least not in New England—without mention of the Red Sox. Tawny didn’t follow baseball.
She glanced at her watch. Forty-five minutes passed. Brad should have been in, out, and a distant memory by now. Maybe the person behind the double doors had already snagged the position. Anxiety clenched at her stomach. If she didn’t land a job soon, she’d either end up living at her parents’ or in her Mini Cooper. In the last three weeks there had been zero offers and zero job interviews, and her bank account was getting closer to zero.
“Brad, you’d be such a good fit here at NEES. Our customers would absolutely love you,” the receptionist purred.
Stacy cast a furtive glance in Tawny’s direction as she took a quick call before informing them it should only be a few more minutes. “Brad’s appointment is first, Ms. Torres. If you’d rather not wait, I can reschedule you for another day?”
Tawny just bet Stacy would. It was clear from their discussion the receptionist had developed an embarrassingly obvious interest in her competition. Guess she missed the gold band on his left hand. Or they were friends, in which case Tawny was so screwed. Tawny smiled back, oozing sugar to catch the fly. “Waiting is no problem. Besides, I’m enjoying the conversation.”
A sprite of a woman stepped out from the double doors and walked to Tawny. “Ms. Torres, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. We had a bit of an emergency to handle. I hope you don’t mind waiting a few more minutes. I’m looking forward to talking with you.”
“Absolutely my pleasure, Mrs. Spinelli.”
Mrs. Spinelli and Brad exchanged pleasantries and disappeared behind the doors, but not before Stacy could wish him luck. Stacy dipped her head to concentrate on her computer screen, ignoring Tawny. Whatever. She didn’t have to win over the girl today. First she’d worry about passing the interview, impressing Spinelli and landing the job. Easy-peasy. People liked her, right? She had excellent references despite what happened at the bank, and she had her recent experience with the rec center.
It sounded bad, but she hoped Brad tanked the interview.
The doors swung open, and speak of the too-sexy-and-charismatic devil in disguise. He exited with a big smile on his face.
Crud, not the sign of someone who bombed.
“Thank you, Mrs. Spinelli. I’m looking forward to hearing from you.” He gave a little wave and said good-bye to Stacy.
Tawny followed the older woman down the hall past a half dozen offices and a central room with a large table in the middle and stepped into the elevator with her.
“The first floor is usually much busier at this time of day, but most of the coordinators are out with clients right now. Every Monday, the entire staff meets in the main room we just passed. The company provides breakfast and we catch everyone up on the week
end events and what’s coming up next. Ours is a small company, sitting at thirty employees total. We all work full-time and then some.”
They stepped out of the elevator into a plush gray-carpeted hall. Prints of various events hung in clusters on soft lavender walls. No cube farm here. Each office had a glass wall facing the hall, but it was apparent everyone had his or her own space. After growing up with three brothers and working in the bank, Tawny wasn’t sure she’d know what to do with privacy. She was more than willing to find out, though.
Mrs. Spinelli stopped at the door of an office no larger than those they passed. Identical to the others with one major exception—the name on the door read Luanne Spinelli, CEO.
“Before we get started, can I get you something to drink? Coffee, soda, some water? Personally, I hit this time of day and I need a shot of caffeine to keep me going.” Mrs. Spinelli walked to a small refrigerator built into the wall of her office, opened the door, and took out a diet soda.
Tawny declined, still in shock over the chief executive officer conducting interviews personally. Her stomach took that opportunity to grumble and remind her she’d skipped lunch. Before she could apologize, Mrs. Spinelli waved her off. The woman reached into a cabinet and pulled out a plastic-covered plate. She took the top off and set it in front of Tawny. Chocolate chip cookies.
“Please have one.” Mrs. Spinelli sat in the chair next to her instead of behind the gorgeous mahogany desk. “Don’t tell my son I was snacking on these. He’s gone all health conscious these days and is constantly nagging me about my diet.”
Off her game, Tawny wasn’t sure how to respond. CEOs didn’t conduct interviews or offer homemade cookies. Instead Tawny nibbled on a cookie. “Mmm, these are delicious. Did you bake them?” If this was a perk of working here, Tawny was willing to beg for the job.
“My granddaughter baked them, but it’s my recipe. It’s how I started the company. My husband died, leaving me with two preteens and not enough money to make ends meet. At first, I catered and organized dinners for the executives at the company he worked for. Then I found myself planning weddings for friends. Now we handle everything from birthday parties to weddings and reunions to corporate events.”
“Do you still cater?” She liked to cook, but not for hordes of people.
“We do have our own catering company. Don’t worry, dear, I didn’t call you in to hire you to bake pies. I have to tell you, your résumé is impressive. A finance and banking background won’t hurt when you’ll be dealing with budgets in the six-figure range.” Mrs. Spinelli took another cookie and pressed one into Tawny’s hand. “But I have to tell you, it’s the stint as the West End Recreation Center’s gala chair that really snagged my attention.”
“Did you attend?”
“Wonderful night. Loved the auction, so much fun. I couldn’t have arranged a more perfect event.”
Tawny warmed under the high praise, regaining confidence that had fled weeks ago on a long cruise to nowhere. Maybe switching careers wouldn’t be such a bad move after all.
As an event planner she’d be expected to do everything from locating sites, organizing third party suppliers, helping to design and choose themes. The list went on. She’d need to use all of her organizational skills to keep the players on time, doing their jobs and making sure the game started as scheduled. There would be frantic phone calls during off hours, even the middle of the night, high-maintenance brides, business executives, and overtired moms to please.
“Tell me, how would you handle a client who comes to you and says it’s their spouse’s fiftieth birthday, but they don’t know what to do?” Mrs. Spinelli asked as she took a third cookie.
The woman obviously has the metabolism of a bird. I’d weigh five hundred pounds.
“First thing I’d ask her is what is he passionate about. Golf means we could look at country clubs or set up a miniature golf course in their backyard or at a public park. Scuba, great, we could go with a sea theme, and venues in Rhode Island are endless. Maybe he ghost-hunts. Talk about a fun party.” Tawny’s mind whirled with ideas as she got more and more into the spirit.
Mrs. Spinelli held up her hand. “Good, you’ve got an imagination. More clients don’t know what they want when they come to us than do. Most don’t even have a budget set.” She glanced at the plate before dusting off her hands. “Okay, now tell me how you’d handle this next scenario. It’s Sunday afternoon, you’re at a client event, say a corporate party. Your phone rings and it’s a distressed bride whose wedding is months away. Her fiancé has decided he doesn’t want a big church wedding, the one you’ve already scoured and secured a church for. He wants a small, intimate wedding on the beach.”
Tawny thought about it for a minute before asking, “Am I the only coordinator at this corporate event?”
Sparkling eyes smiled back at her. “No, you always work with an assistant.”
“Good to know. I’d ask my colleague if they could take over for a minute while I took the call. Then I’d step outside, away from the event, and talk to the bride. I’d reassure her we could work with the change and make an appointment to come see her the next day—providing I didn’t have another event and she was free.”
“What if she’s a bridezilla and demanded you meet her right then and there?”
Tawny quirked her brow and smiled. “Oh, that’s easy. I’d tell her I’d love to but I’m in Manhattan at the moment and won’t be back until midnight.”
“Quick thinking.” Mrs. Spinelli went on with a few more scenes and then explained she’d need to be ready for anything and everything to be thrown her way, could she handle it?
Tawny planned. She planned everything from what she would wear that day, eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, to how her life would go. There were spreadsheets, timelines, and calendars. All color-coded. Could she go from being a planner to a pantser—someone who flew by the seat of their pants? If she’d learned nothing else the past few weeks, it was that not everything would go as scheduled. Besides, this job was only until something opened back up in the banking industry.
“Just think of me as Semper Gumby . . . always flexible,” Tawny told her.
The woman laughed. Good.
“Interesting motto. Maybe it should be our new company watchword. I think you’ll like it here. We really are one big family. Despite the required crazy ones and a few, occasional grumps, it’s a good place to work. You’ll work hard, but temper that with playing hard and it all equalizes. Which is why it’s important to us that our employees have a good work-life balance.”
A what?
Mrs. Spinelli walked to the fridge and grabbed another diet soda. Between the caffeine and sugar, the lady should be climbing walls or running marathons. Then again, Tawny imagined running a company that organized everyone else’s parties probably took a lot of energy and stamina.
“We make sure our staff gets family time or playtime, whatever it is you need. If, say, you work seven to ten days straight, expect that we’re going to require you take an extra day or two off to recoup. The last thing we want is burned-out planners and an unhappy home life.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Tawny murmured.
Mrs. Spinelli took a sip of her drink. “Oh, it’s very selfish of us, really. Can you imagine the mood of an event if our people ran around scowling or yelling at their spouse on the phone because they can’t make dinner or crying because they missed their child’s play? Bad business for everyone.”
Tawny nodded, not that she had to worry about any of those problems affecting her work. Single, alone, and no one to answer to.
“Tell me, what do you do for fun?”
“Fun?”
“What are your hobbies, pastimes? What are you passionate about?”
Fun? Get her nails done, shop, work . . . um, shallow and not fun. At least not by this woman’s standard.
“Documentaries intrigue me.”
“Oh, my favorites are celebrity bios. Loved reading abou
t Judy Garland and Joan Crawford, but those are way before your time.”
“Are you kidding? Who doesn’t love Dorothy and hasn’t seen The Wizard of Oz a half dozen times? Mommie Dearest. Not a woman I’d want raising me. Did you happen to catch the one they had on Billy the Kid the other day? Fascinating. I’m not sure if I believe Pat Garrett let him go instead of killing him, and that he lived well into the twentieth century.”
“Missed it. So what else?” the woman probed.
“Huge Red Sox fan.” Please don’t ask me for players’ names or positions. “And of course, I love to shop, especially for my niece and nephews.” That last part should help, she prayed.
“I’ll be frank. I like you, Tawny. You’ve got excellent credentials. Think you’d be a good fit. But . . .” She took another sip of her drink and grabbed a cookie with a muttered oath. “These really are a weakness of mine. Where was I? Oh, the final decision is not mine. Not true, it is mine, but only after I make sure you won’t disturb the balance we have.”
The confusion she felt must have shown on her face because Mrs. Spinelli patted her on the arm and assured her not to worry.
“This Sunday is my son’s birthday. We’re throwing him a huge party and all the staff will be there, plus their families. It’s a great opportunity, not only for you to meet everyone, but to see how you fit in with our people. Come. It’ll be a blast. No shoptalk is allowed, it’s all about enjoying ourselves.”
“Sure, I can come, I would love to meet the gang. Is there anything I can bring?” Tawny snagged a cookie, nibbling nervously.
“Gifts aren’t required, but I’ll tell you my health-conscious son has a thing for local wines. Oh, and your spouse,” her eyes dropped to Tawny’s unadorned finger, “or your significant other is welcome to come. And don’t worry about Brad from earlier.”
“Great.”
“Can I put you down for two, then?”
Uh . . . “Definitely.”
The woman beamed. Tawny could see how she’d built this company. It was clear she loved a good party. “Wonderful, can’t wait. Who will be coming with you?”
Boyfriend for Hire Page 3
