by Cat Schield
“Yes. It’s urgent that I speak with her as soon as possible.” London glanced back at Harrison as she entered her office. Like the reception area, this tranquil space was decorated in monochrome furniture and accessories. “I hope you don’t mind the interruption, but I’m organizing a fiftieth wedding anniversary for a client’s parents in a week and some things have come up I need her to weigh in on. She’s currently out of the country and not due back until just before the party.”
“I understand.” His phone vibrated with another incoming text as if to punctuate his point. “I’m sure you have all sorts of balls in the air.”
“Yes.” She gestured him toward a round table to their left and closed the door. “I always have several projects going at once.”
“Are you a one-woman show?” His gaze tracked her as she strode to her glass-topped desk and picked up a utilitarian pad and basic pen. No fancy notebooks and expensive writing instruments for London McCaffrey.
“No, I have several assistants,” she explained as she sat across from him. “Most of them help me out on a part-time basis, but I have two full-time employees plus Missy, my receptionist.”
“I didn’t realize your company was so large.”
She acknowledged the implied compliment with a slight smile. “I’ve been fortunate to have expanded rapidly since I opened my doors.”
“How long have you been in business?” Harrison leaned back in his chair and let his gaze flow over her slender shoulders and down her bare arms.
She sat forward, arms resting on the tabletop, the pen held lightly in her fingers. “Nearly six years. I started right out of college.”
“Why an event planning company?”
Her eyes narrowed as if she’d suddenly noticed that he was interviewing her, but her voice remained smooth and unruffled as she answered. “My mother used to be a socialite in New York and has always been big on the charity circuit. I started attending events when I was in my teens and mostly found them tedious because I didn’t know anyone. To keep myself occupied, I would spend my time analyzing the food, decor and anything else that went into the party. When I got home, I would write it all down and make notes of what I would do differently.”
Harrison found himself nodding in understanding as she described her process. “That sounds a lot like how I got into car racing. My uncle used to let me help him work on the cars and, when I got old enough to drive, gave me the opportunity to get behind the wheel. I could tear apart an entire engine and put it back together by the time I was fourteen.”
“I guess we both knew what we wanted to do from an early age.”
“Something we have in common.” The first of many somethings, he hoped.
As if realizing that they’d veered too far into the personal, she cleared her throat. “So you said you were interested in having someone organize a party for your brother’s birthday?”
“Yes.” Harrison admired her segue back to the reason for his visit. “He turns forty next month and I thought someone should plan something.”
After meeting London the other night, Harrison had called his mother and confirmed that no one was in the process of planning anything for Tristan’s fortieth birthday. In the past, events like this had been handled by Tristan’s wife, Zoe, but she was out of the picture now.
She tapped her pen on the notepad. “Tell me something about your brother.”
Harrison pondered her question for a moment. What did he know about Tristan? They were separated by more than just an eight-year age difference. They had different ideologies when it came to money, women and careers. Nor had they been close as kids. Their age differences meant the brothers had always attended different schools and Tristan’s free time had been taken up by sports and friends.
“He runs the family business since our dad semi-retired five years go,” Harrison began. “Crosby Automotive is a billion-dollar national chain of auto parts stores and collision centers in twenty states. We also have one of the largest private car dealership groups on the East Coast.”
“And you race cars.”
Her matter-of-fact tone carried no judgment, but Harrison imagined someone as no-nonsense as London McCaffrey wouldn’t view what he did in a good light. No doubt a guy like Tristan, who put on an expensive suit and spent his days behind a desk, was more her cup of tea. On the other hand, she had been engaged to a baseball player, so maybe Harrison was the one guilty of being judgmental.
“I’m one of four drivers that races for Crosby Motorsports.”
“Car twenty-five,” she said, doodling a two and a five on her legal pad before encircling the numbers with a series of small stars.
He watched her in fascination. “Yep.”
“I’ve never seen a race.” She glanced up, caught him watching her and very quickly set the pen down atop the drawing as if embarrassed by her sketch.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he said. “I’m racing on Sunday in Richmond.”
“Oh, I don’t think...” Her eyes widened.
“It’s my last race of the season.” He made his tone as persuasive as possible.
London shook her head. “It’s really not my thing.”
“Then what is?”
“My thing?” She frowned. “I guess I don’t really have one. I work a lot, you see.”
“And that leaves no room for fun?”
“From what my friend told me about a racer’s schedule, I’d like to know when you slow down for fun.”
“You have me there. I’m on the go most of the year.”
She nodded as if that put an end to the topic. “So, how many people are you looking to invite to your brother’s birthday party?”
“Around a hundred.” He’d secured a list from his mother after realizing he’d better not show up to a party planning meeting empty-handed and clueless.
“And do you have a budget?” London had relaxed now that they’d returned to familiar territory and flipped to a clean page so she could jot notes.
“Keep it under ten.”
“Thousand?” She sounded a tad surprised, leaving Harrison questioning whether he’d gone too high or too low. “That amount opens up several possible venues. Of course, the timing is a little tight with it being the start of the holiday season. Did you have a particular date in mind?”
“His birthday is December fifth.”
“I’ll have Missy start calling around for availability.” She excused herself and went to speak to her receptionist.
Harrison barely had a chance to look at any of the several texts that had come in while they’d been talking before she returned.
“Are you thinking a formal sit-down dinner with cocktails before and dancing afterward or something more casual?”
“My mother insists on a formal event. But I don’t think dancing. Maybe a jazz band, giving people a chance to mingle and chat.” Harrison was even more relieved that he’d checked with his mother because he was able to parrot everything she’d suggested.
“You were smart to get her input,” London said, picking up on his train of thought. “I guess my last question for now is whether you had any sort of theme in mind.”
Theme? Harrison was completely stumped. “I guess I was just thinking it was his fortieth birthday...”
“A color scheme?”
More and more Harrison wished he’d found a different way to connect with London McCaffrey. “What would you suggest?”
Her lips pursed as she pondered the question. “I’ll pull together three ideas and run them past you. What are you thinking about for the meal?”
“Wouldn’t it depend on the place we choose?”
“Yes, but it might help narrow things down if I thought you wanted seafood versus steak and chicken.”
“Ah, can I think about it?”
With a slight shake of her head, she pre
ssed on. “Give me your instant thoughts.”
“Seafood.”
She jotted that down. “There are several venues that do an exceptional job.”
Although he’d never planned an event like this before, Harrison was finding that the process flowed easily with London in charge. She was proving to be both efficient and knowledgeable.
“You’re really great at this,” he said.
Her lips quirked. “It is what I do for a living.”
“I didn’t mean to sound surprised. It’s just that I’ve never thrown anyone a birthday party before and you’re making everything so easy.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to be in charge of this particular event?”
Harrison doubted London was the sort who liked to play games, so he decided to be straight with her. “I volunteered because I was interested in getting to know you better and a friend warned me that you wouldn’t be inclined to give me a shot.”
“Get to know me better?” She looked more curious than annoyed or pleased. “So you decided to hire me to plan your brother’s birthday party? You should know that I don’t date my clients.”
Despite her claim, he sensed she wasn’t shutting him down entirely. “You said you usually work with corporate clients. Maybe this would be an excellent opportunity to gain some exposure with Crosby Automotive. And I get a chance to work with a woman who intrigues me. A win-win solution all around.”
Interest colored her voice as she echoed, “A win-win solution...”
* * *
London’s pen flowed across the legal pad as she randomly sketched a centerpiece and pondered Harrison’s words.
When he’d called to set up this meeting, she’d been elated. Organizing his brother’s birthday party would solve the problem of how she could get close enough to Tristan to figure out how to bring him down. The more she learned about Zoe’s ex-husband, the more daunting her task. Frustration welled up in London as she considered the impulsive bargain she’d made several months earlier. What had she been thinking to agree to something that could lead to trouble for her in the future if she wasn’t careful? But how did she back out now that Everly and Zoe had their plans in motion?
“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Harrison asked.
The abruptness of his invitation combined with the uptick in her body’s awareness of him caught her off guard, and London was shocked and dismayed by the delight blooming in her.
“I...”
She’d been so focused on her goal of helping Zoe that she hadn’t considered the possibility of an interpersonal relationship between her and Harrison. Now, with his startling confession, the situation had grown complicated.
“Ever since meeting you at the party the other night, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he declared, his sea-toned eyes darkening as his voice took on a smoky quality. “You don’t date your clients, but there’s nothing that says you can’t. Let me take you to dinner.”
You made this devil’s bargain. Now see it through.
“Tomorrow would be better,” she responded a touch breathlessly.
“I’m heading to Richmond with the crew tomorrow. Tonight is all I have.”
She was on the verge of refusing when his smile faded. An intense light entered his eyes and London found it difficult to breathe. The man’s charisma was off the charts at the moment and London found herself basking in the glow of his admiration. At the same time she couldn’t help but wonder if he was sincere or merely plying her with flattery to get her into bed. Worse, she wasn’t sure she cared.
Maribelle’s words came back to haunt her. London could use a little fun in her life and rebound sex with Harrison Crosby might be what enabled her to move on from Linc. If only she wasn’t planning to use Harrison as part of their revenge plot.
“I don’t want to have to wait another week to spend an evening with you,” he continued as she grappled with her conscience.
“I’m flattered,” she said, stalling for time.
His lips kicked into a dry grin. “No, you’re not.”
Harrison wasn’t the sort of Southern gentleman she was used to. One she could wrap around her finger. He had a straightforward sex appeal that excited her and made her feel all needy and prone to acts of impulsiveness. The urge to grab his sweater and haul him over for a kiss shocked her.
“Really—” Her instincts screamed at her to retreat. Her susceptibility to this man could prove dangerous.
“You think I’m hitting on you because I want to sleep with every woman I meet.”
“I wouldn’t dream of thinking such a thing,” she murmured in her most guileless drawl as she glanced down at her legal pad and noticed she’d been drawing hearts. She quickly flipped to a clean page and set down her pen.
“Don’t go all Scarlett O’Hara on me,” Harrison replied. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I don’t see us ending up in bed, but I fully intend on making it about the journey and not the destination.”
Outrage poured through London, but there was a certain amount of amusement and curiosity mixed in, as well. Damn the man. His plain speaking was having the wrong sort of effect on her.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” she said. “What makes you think I’m interested in you that way?”
“The fact that you’re still here discussing it with me instead of kicking me to the curb.”
“Do you honestly think you’re the first client who has hit on me?”
“I’m sure I’m not.” He didn’t look at all concerned by her attitude. “But I’m guessing you’re going to give me a different answer than all the others.”
It pained her that he was right. Nor could she console herself with the falsehood that she would turn him down flat if it wasn’t for this pact she’d made with Zoe and Everly.
“I’ll have dinner with you tonight,” she said. “But I get to pick the place and I’ll meet you there.”
“And I promise to behave like a proper gentleman.”
She snorted. “There’s nothing proper or gentlemanly about you, I think.” A delicious shiver worked its way down her spine at the thought. “Do you agree to my conditions?”
“If they make you feel safe, then how can I not?”
His use of the word safe made her bristle. She hadn’t set conditions because of any nervousness she felt around him, but to make him understand that she wasn’t one of those women who flatter and swoon all in the hope of achieving that elusive five-carat sparkler for their left hand.
“How about we meet at The Front Porch at eight o’clock.”
“That’s perfect.”
She then steered the conversation back to the original reason for their meeting. “It would be a good idea if we could meet next week and check out a couple of the venues,” she told him, already having a pretty good idea of the sort of elegant evening she intended to organize.
“I’ll be back in town next Monday and Tuesday.”
She picked up her phone and pulled up her calendar. “I’m open Monday afternoon, say two o’clock? The faster we book a location, the sooner we can start working on the details. And I’ll pull some ideas together and send them along to you this week.”
“Sounds great.”
They’d arrived at an obvious end to their meeting and Harrison stood. As London escorted him to the front door, he asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to come watch me race in Richmond?”
London’s eyes flicked to her receptionist. Missy was paying rapt attention to their exchange without actually staring at them. Heat bloomed beneath London’s skin as she realized that word would soon spread about Harrison’s invitation.
“I don’t know...”
“You could bring your friend. Maribelle, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” To her dismay, London’s mood had dipped at the thoug
ht of sharing his attention. “I mean, yes, my friend is Maribelle. She’s a huge fan. Both her and her fiancé, Beau.”
“Bring them both along. I’ll get you seats in our suite.”
London considered how enthusiastic her friend had been after meeting Harrison. It surprised her that someone who had been trained from birth to epitomize a gracious Southern lady had an interest in such a loud and tedious sport. All the drivers did was go around and around in circles at high speeds for three hours. How could that possibly keep anyone interested?
“I’ll see if she’s busy and let you know.” The words were out before London could second-guess herself.
She needed access to Tristan, and Harrison was the perfect way in. From the way her pulse triggered every time he smiled at her, acting interested wouldn’t be a problem. She just needed to be careful that she kept her body’s impulses in check and her mind focused on the revenge bargain.
Harrison looked a little surprised that she’d changed her mind, but then a grin slowly formed on his face. “Great.”
“Wonderful,” she murmured, reaching out to shake his hand.
She’d begun the gesture as a professional event planner, but as his long fingers enveloped hers, a jolt of electricity surged up her arm. The raw, compelling reaction left London wobbly. She couldn’t let herself be distracted right now. Not when she had a mission and Harrison played an integral part in accomplishing it.
Capitalizing on his interest in her was one thing. Reciprocating the attraction would only lead to trouble.
“See you at eight.”
Aware that they were still holding hands, London pulled her fingers free. “Eight,” she echoed, glad Harrison had the sense not to gloat as she opened the front door and gestured him onto the sidewalk. “In the meantime, I’ll keep you informed as we confirm availability on the potential venues.”
After they said goodbye, she wasted no time watching him walk away, but immediately turned to her receptionist. Seeing that Missy was making a poor effort at busywork, London gathered herself to scold her and then realized if she’d been worried about the scene playing out in front of an audience, she should’ve taken him outside.
