by Melody Grace
She turned. It was Tish, waltzing past the line in a gorgeous green gown and fake-fur cape. “You look amazing,” Tish said, greeting her with air kisses. “Sorry, lipstick. I hate the stuff,” Tish added. “I always forget I’m wearing it and eat the canapes, and it winds up smeared everywhere.”
“Hi,” Eliza said, relieved. “Maybe you can help. Cal didn’t put me on the list, and now I’m about to get carted off in chains for trespassing.”
Tish arched an eyebrow. “Kelly, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Prescott,” the door-woman said, suddenly looking anxious. “We were told nobody gets in without an invite.”
“Eliza’s not nobody,” Tish said, linking her arm through Eliza’s.
“I’m so sorry,” Kelly groveled again as they moved past.
Eliza exhaled. “Thanks,” she said, stepping inside. “Cal’s not picking up.”
“He’s probably busy playing host.” Tish looked around. “He always gets nervous over these things.”
“Cal, nervous?” Eliza didn’t believe it.
Tish gave her a smile. “Between you and me, that charm only goes skin-deep. The Foundation means a lot to him, so it’s important this night goes perfectly.”
Was it just Eliza’s imagination, or was there a note of warning in Tish’s voice? She brushed it off. “Well, this place looks amazing. I’m sure it’ll be great.”
Tish checked her phone. “I have to go see a guy about a permit, but I’ll see you around later?”
“I’ll be here.”
Tish whisked away, leaving Eliza alone to take in the party for the first time. The building had been taken over with a cherry-blossom theme, and huge displays of pink origami flowers fluttered in every corner, suspended from the ceiling in oversized art installations. Waiters circulated with delicious-looking trays of food, and in the main ballroom, she could see there were several full bars set up, their counters filled with expensive champagnes.
How much of the event budget could have just been sent directly to the charity?
Eliza pushed down her cynical thought. Cal knew far more about getting rich people to open their wallets, and if it took lavish parties and a ten-piece orchestra on the balcony, then she was sure it was worth it.
She found the coat check and peeled of her heavy woolen coat. The hallway was warm, but she still shivered, catching a glance from a passing couple—all in black. In fact, looking around at the guests, the tones were all muted and sophisticated: blacks, navy blue, a few daring pastel chiffons. Well, if she was going to wear this red, she might as well wear it.
Eliza took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked in.
* * *
Cal finally had everything under control. The event planners had done a spectacular job, the venue looked great, and—most important of all—his VIP donors were already opening their checkbooks and signing up for the silent auction.
One of the guests, a high-profile tech CEO, checked the listing and whistled. “Owner’s box at the playoffs? How did you swing that one?”
“Let’s just say I called in a favor.” Cal smiled. “And there’s a trip to London your wife will like: private tours at Buckingham Palace.”
The man shook his head, but he was smiling—and reaching for the nearest pen. “I can already tell you’ll give my wallet a workout tonight.”
“Hey, it’s all for a good cause!” Cal slapped him on the back and moved on: greeting, mingling, and making sure everyone was having a good time. Still, despite the crowds, he kept one eye on the entrance, wondering when Eliza would arrive. He wanted to introduce her around; there were a few big editors and publishers in attendance tonight, and he was certain that just five minutes with her and they’d be jumping to add her to their teams. He was just reaching for his phone, ready to call, when he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.
His jaw dropped—and he wasn’t alone.
“Wow,” he heard a man murmur behind him. Sure enough, every head in the room had turned to watch Eliza walk in.
She was magnificent. There was no other way to describe her, gliding into the ballroom in a floor-length red gown that set Cal’s blood boiling and his heart beating right out of his chest. The silky fabric pooled around her curves, draped modestly at the neckline, but when she turned, he could see it fell in a low swoop across her back.
He forgot how to breathe.
“There you are.” The look on Eliza’s face was pure relief as she emerged from the crowd. “I didn’t know where to find you.”
She took in his slack-jawed expression and paused, looking down. “Is the dress OK? I wasn’t sure if—”
“It’s perfect.” Cal finally found his voice. “I love it. Never take it off.”
Eliza arched an eyebrow, her familiar confident smile returning. “Never?” she said, leaning closer so only he could hear. “That would be a shame, you’d never get to see what I’m wearing underneath. Or not wearing,” she added, her lips grazing his earlobe.
Cal felt like he’d been hit with an anvil. Dear God, did she want him hard, right there in the middle of the gala?
He knew he should still be on hosting duty, but he needed to touch her right now. Without an audience.
“Let me give you the tour,” he said, then took her hand and pulled her after him, moving fast to the edge of the room.
“Cal, wait. Heels!” she protested, and Cal managed to slow long enough for her to find her footing again. He ducked out of the main ballroom and down the hall, searching for a quiet spot. Finally, he reached the exit to the courtyard, where a fountain was burbling and tiny tea lights were strung up, making a dim, romantic, retreat. “What’s the rush?” Eliza asked, looking breathless.
Cal moved her back against the wall and kissed her without a word.
Yes.
Her mouth was sweet and hot, and she melted against him. Her dress was silk under his palms, and he skimmed over every last curve, making her moan into his mouth.
“You look incredible,” he murmured, finally breaking away. “Every guy here couldn’t take their eyes off you.”
“I don’t care what every other guy thinks.” Eliza gave him a sultry smile. “Except one. The man with the dessert tray,” she added, teasing, and Cal laughed.
“Damn pastry chef. How am I supposed to compete with that?”
“Hmm, you’ll think of something.” Eliza swayed closer and kissed him again. “I like you in a tux,” she said, smoothing her palms down his lapels. “Very James Bond.”
“I’ll spare you my bad British accent.” Cal took a breath, trying to rein in the desire thundering through him, but it was no use. He wanted to steal her away to some dark, secluded room and make her moan his name over and again. He wanted to possess her with a fierceness that shook him to his core, but this wasn’t the time. And it definitely wasn’t the place.
“We have to go back to the party now,” he said regretfully. “But just know you’re driving me crazy right now. And when this is all over? I have plans.”
Eliza’s eyes sparkled. “Good. Because I’ve got a few of my own.”
Cal groaned and pulled her back against him. He kissed her hard, until they both were gasping. “OK, now we really do have to go back,” he said. He stepped out of the corner, and—
“Calvin, there you are!”
Cal gave thanks that he’d had a two-second head start before his uncle and aunt stepped into the courtyard. It wouldn’t have been the best first impression in the world if they’d caught him necking with Eliza, but luckily, she was only slightly flushed as Cal presented her. “Sylvie, Arthur, this is Eliza Bennett.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Eliza said, politely holding out a hand to shake.
“Finally, the famous Eliza!” Sylvie exclaimed, and pulled her into a hug. “We’ve been dying to meet you. Cal won’t say a thing about you, so I’m coming in blind, I’m afraid. You’re a writer?”
“Journalist,” Eliza replied, bu
t before Cal could change the subject, she continued, “Most recently at the Boston Herald, but I’m freelancing now.”
His uncle frowned. “Bennett? Wait, aren’t you the one who wrote that hit piece on Mindy Kensington?”
Eliza blinked. “I profiled her, yes. Are you friends?”
Arthur glared. “She’s my sister.”
Cal sighed. He should have warned Eliza ahead of time not to mention her time at the newspaper. “Eliza’s really sorry about any problems the article caused,” he said quickly. “She caught Mindy on a bad day. I think everyone regrets the incident.”
“Do we?” Eliza asked, giving him a look.
“We should get back inside.” Cal quickly steered them towards the ballroom. “Drinks, anyone?”
Luckily, Aunt Sylvie was a pro at changing the subject to easy small talk, and soon, she was chatting away with Eliza about Cape Cod, her social diary, and the Foundation. “We’re all so proud of Cal,” she said with a doting smile. “It’s so wonderful seeing him carry on his parents’ good work.”
“I know he works hard.” Eliza squeezed his hand. “Everything looks great here tonight.”
“As long as you’re not planning any more articles,” Arthur said, still looking annoyed. Sylvie gave an awkward laugh.
“Oh, he’s just joking. Water under the bridge!”
Cal cleared his throat. “I want to introduce Eliza to some people,” he said quickly, taking her arm. “We’ll see you at dinner.”
“Great meeting you,” Eliza added, before Cal led her away.
She exhaled. “We’re going to need a safeword,” she said, and Cal promptly choked on his drink.
“Shh!”
Eliza laughed. “For parties, I mean! How about ‘canapes’? When conversations get awkward, I can just say I’m dying to get something to eat, and we can make our escape.”
“That wasn’t awkward,” Cal lied. “Uncle Arthur is like that with everyone. Besides, you knew they weren’t happy about your article.”
“Funny how everyone’s mad about what I wrote, but not the fact that Mindy was screaming at her poor nanny,” Eliza said, giving him a look.
“You’re lucky, she couldn’t make it tonight.” Cal scanned the room. “And the Mayor won’t be staying for dinner. So we should get through the rest of the evening without another scene, as long as you don’t mention it again.”
Eliza pressed her lips together. “Any other topics of conversation you’d like to be off limits?”
Cal thought fast. “Good point. You should be fine, as long as you steer clear of the upcoming elections. Well, politics in general,” he added. “Oh, and when I introduce you to Bill Keller, don’t mention the Red Sox. He just lost a bid for the team and he’s not happy about it.”
“Should I write it all down?” Eliza asked, and Cal smiled.
“Don’t worry, I can do all the talking.”
Eliza gave him an odd look. “So I just stand here and look pretty?”
Cal was distracted by someone across the room. Ted Chambers. One of the publishers he wanted to introduce her to. “Yup, you’re doing great,” he said hurriedly. “Ted!” he called to get the man’s attention. “How the hell have you been?”
“Calvin.” Ted greeted him with an enthusiastic handshake. “And who’s your lovely lady friend?” he asked, taking in Eliza. “If Julie wasn’t here somewhere, I’d have to steal this one away.”
Cal chuckled. “Ted Chambers, Eliza Bennett. Eliza’s a great journalist,” he added proudly.
“Oh yes?” Ted asked. “What kind of things?”
“Lifestyle, features, mainly,” Cal answered for her, in case Eliza went off track. “She’d be great someplace like Chambers, you’re launching another fashion title next year, aren’t you?”
“Now, that’s supposed to be under wraps,” Ted mock-scolded him.
Cal grinned. “Word travels fast.”
“Yes, it does. Great meeting you, Eliza. Cal, we’ll talk.” Ted winked and moved on.
Cal turned to Eliza, grinning. “You did great,” he said, pleased.
“I didn’t say a word,” Eliza replied, frowning.
“That’s fine, I’m sure he thought you were just nervous,” Cal said, wanting to reassure her. “I’ll call him Monday and mention you again. I bet I can get an interview set up by the end of the week.”
“Wow.” Eliza looked taken aback. “That easy?”
“He owes me a favor,” Cal said. “Trust me, we’ll have you back in a new job in no time.”
Eliza opened her mouth to reply, but the music stopped, and the conductor tapped a glass for attention. “Dinner is served,” he announced.
Everyone started moving to the next room, but Cal took a moment to look around. He’d done it. The event was a success, the Foundation would raise the money it needed, and even better, he had Eliza at his side.
Everything was going to plan.
19
Eliza took a deep breath and tried to keep smiling. They were seated at the head table for the dinner portion of the night: Cal, Tish, his aunt and uncle, and half a dozen other members of the Boston elite, sipping champagne and toying with the four-course meal served by waiters in starched uniforms. The beautiful dining hall was filled with the hum of happy conversation and the ring of silverware.
Eliza wanted to scream.
“The powder is great in Aspen,” Cal chatted away, oblivious beside her. “But you’re right, Telluride is the new spot.”
“Where do you like to winter, Eliza?” one of the other women asked.
“My job usually keeps me in the city year-round,” Eliza said pleasantly. “I never learned how to ski.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t teach her to après-ski,” Cal added, and the table laughed.
Eliza couldn’t take any more. She dabbed her lips with her napkin and rose to her feet. “Excuse me,” she said, “I’ll be right back.”
She exited the room fast, and wandered blindly down a hallway until she reached the restroom. It was a cool expanse of pale marble, blissfully empty. Eliza put her clutch down and leaned against the counter. She had a headache coming on.
Who was this guy seated beside her, and what had he done with the real Cal?
Eliza didn’t understand what the hell was happening. The funny, sincere, real man she’d fallen for had been replaced by a patronizing stuffed shirt. OK, so this was an important event for him. She knew he needed to charm the donors and make sure things ran smoothly, but that didn’t mean he could treat her like arm candy—pretty much telling her to stand still and look pretty, and not ruffle any feathers by daring to have a thought or opinion in her mind.
Who did he think he was?
If it was any other guy, she would have told him where the hell to go. But this was Cal, her Cal, and she wanted so desperately for the night to be a success for him. So, she bit her tongue and laughed along, and barely said a meaningful word to anyone all night.
But inside, she was boiling.
What was she doing? This wasn’t the man she fell for.
This wasn’t a guy who seemed to know her at all.
Was this really what he wanted in a partner? Eliza wondered, feeling a chill. A pretty, sweet mannequin to parade around at parties like this? Because if it was, then he had no business chasing after her. She was the last person in the world who would ever sign up for a relationship like that.
But here she was, touching up her lipstick, all the same.
The door swung open, and a trio of blondes in designer black dresses sashayed in. “Lizzie!” a high-pitched voice caroled, and Eliza braced herself. It was Sukie, her hair twisted up in some complicated braid, revealing huge diamond earrings that glittered under the lights. “Oh my God, you look . . . so cute,” Sukie gushed. “Doesn’t she look cute, girls? You’d never guess she was a waitress. Well, in Vegas, maybe,” she added with a smirk.
Eliza forced herself to smile.
Take the high road. Take the high road.
“That’s so sweet of you,” she said, matching Sukie’s syrupy tone. “And congratulations! When are you due? It must be soon, now that you’re already starting to show.”
Yes, it was petty. Yes, she should have taken the higher ground. But it was worth it to see the look on Sukie’s face.
The other women burst out laughing. “I’m not . . . It isn’t . . .” Sukie spluttered, but Eliza was already heading for the exit.
“Toodles!” she called behind her as the door swung closed.
* * *
Eliza’s victory was short-lived. Back at the table, Cal barely paused to smile in her direction as she took her seat again. “It’s shaping up to be a great year for the company,” he was saying.
“I hope this means you’ll be back in the city full-time now,” Arthur said, his disapproval clear. “You’ve been out of town for far too long.”
“Although, we can see the appeal,” Sylvie added, smiling at Eliza.
“Actually, I might stay a while longer. I’ve found some interesting business opportunities down there,” Cal said, taking a sip of wine. Eliza turned, surprised.
“Since when?”
“Yes, Calvin.” His uncle looked just as surprised. “Do tell.”
“It was Eliza’s idea, actually,” Cal continued, looking modest. “She showed me there’s a market in smaller, local publications. The small fish that get overlooked, they’re all struggling to stay in print. But if we consolidate, bring them under one digital umbrella, we could develop an infrastructure that works all over the country.”
His words sliced through Eliza. Was he serious right now? She turned in disbelief, but Cal was focused on his uncle.
Arthur looked thoughtful. “I like it. Have you run the numbers?”
“It’s early days,” Cal replied. “But I can ask our people to start looking into it.”
“Good idea,” Arthur said with an approving nod.
Cal’s blue eyes were full of pride, but Eliza’s anger reached boiling point.
“Cal,” she said, trying to stay calm. “Didn’t we talk about this? I showed you why it’s a terrible idea.”
