“Sure.”
His warm smile eased through her like melted marshmallows into homemade hot chocolate. But she’d burned her tongue so many times she’d lost her craving for even a sip of the deliciously rich drink. “Would you introduce me to your mother?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
NO. NO. NO. That wasn’t the right favor. Brad wasn’t agreeing to that. Her father had drained her account. She should want the money back. She should want to find her father. Unless she already knew where he was laying low.
“I’ve spooked you.” Sophie waved her hands at him and then at herself. “I wasn’t asking to meet your family as if this was...you and I...as if this was something. Because it’s nothing. We just met. You’re temporary. That sounded mean. It could be something. Maybe, not that it is.” Sophie covered her face, inhaled and held her breath.
Brad stared at her cheeks reddening between her spread fingers and forgot about George Callahan. Sophie was flustered, stammering and quite simply too adorable.
“You could help here,” she muttered behind her hands.
He’d never seen that deep shade of red before, not even in Evelyn’s prized garden. Evelyn’s roses had never been such an inviting crimson shade. Maybe if Evelyn’s roses had been as appealing as Sophie’s cheeks, he wouldn’t have cut off the heads all those years ago. “I am.”
She glared at him.
He grinned back. “I’m politely waiting while you collect yourself.”
She dropped her hands and pointed at him. “You know this isn’t anything. We met less than twenty-four hours ago. I’m not interested in becoming a Harrington.” She jerked back. That warm red washed from her cheeks, and her dark brown eyes widened.
“What are you interested in?” Brad reached out and grabbed her hand instead of brushing his fingers across her cheeks to coax that warmth to return.
She studied their joined hands, then looked up at him. “Surviving.”
His mother was interested in her own survival, as well. “You believe my mother will help?”
“Your mother is known to be a strong animal advocate and notable dog lover. I lost several key sponsors today for a dog ball I’m planning. The Paws and Bark Bash will raise funds to benefit therapy and service-dog organizations as well as rescue outfits around the Bay Area.”
“And?” he asked. This had to be about more than donating to some dog organizations. Fund-raisers required extensive preparation and work. If his mother attached her name to an event, she expected something in return. What did Sophie expect to gain from her bash? More marks for her father to scam?
She linked her fingers with his, tightening their connection. “A successful gala will help the Pampered Pooch move from a mom-and-pop pet store to a legitimate business.”
“What’s wrong with remaining a mom-and-pop store?” Brad squeezed her fingers. There was something natural and safe about their joined hands. Something he liked a little more than he should. “You have a solid customer base, and you can cater to their needs consistently and reliably.”
“It’s not enough.” She dropped her other hand on top of their joined ones. “You don’t understand. You have a successful business with a partner, employees, profit.”
He’d stepped into a family business. Partnered with his cousin with his mother’s blessing. Hired more relatives with his mother’s encouragement. Then built the entire business on his mother’s political agenda and the profit that came from his mother’s clients. Family loyalty had called him home, and family loyalty had allowed him to be manipulated again. A one-man shop that he’d built from the ground on his own terms, his own way, would matter. He envied Sophie her independence. “And with all that comes more responsibility, more problems, more heartburn.”
“It can’t be all that uncomfortable. You’re sailing away for a sabbatical without a return date.”
He had no choice. “Well, like you, I’m interested in surviving.”
Sophie studied him, and he studied her back, each searching for some truth in the silence. Her lips parted, her head tipped toward her shoulder. Brad waited. Waited for her to probe. Waited for her to ask. Waited for her to come to him.
But Sophie simply released his hand and walked over to the dryer.
Brad leaned back in the plastic chair, a little surprised she hadn’t pried. She’d wanted to ask more. He’d seen the interest swirl through her deep molasses gaze. The bigger surprise was that he’d have answered. He never spilled any of his secrets to virtual strangers. Never had the slightest inclination. Until he’d held Sophie Callahan’s hand. Every minute, this favor for Evelyn Davenport became more and more complicated. He hated complications.
“There’s less than five minutes left on the dryer.” Sophie picked up the laundry basket. “I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out at City Suds.”
Ella dropped her headphones around her neck. “Brad can’t leave until he’s tried the best milk shake in town.”
Brad looked at Sophie. “I can’t leave without sampling a milk shake.”
Sophie wanted to argue. Brad could see it in the way her mouth thinned and her eyes narrowed. And suddenly he wanted to stay. He wanted to rattle her even more until he could control his own response to the woman. Until he could prove her guilty. Yet he feared the truth about Sophie might not be enough to sever his interest in her.
“I’ll get the laundry, then.” Sophie shoved the basket against the dryer and tossed the clothes inside, not bothering to stop and fold any garment.
Brad leaned toward Ella. “I’m thinking a chocolate shake and cheeseburger.”
Ella shook her head. “Boring.”
“That’s classic comfort food,” Brad argued. “Simple and tasty.”
“There’s more flavor if you add bacon to your milk shake and to your burger.”
Sophie returned. “Ready?”
“Ella wants me to put bacon in my milk shake.” Brad gripped the laundry basket and pulled, but Sophie’s grip remained firm. Heaven help him, but he enjoyed being around this woman.
“It’s so good.” Ella laughed and stood. “Can we teach Brad to guide?”
Sophie released the laundry. “He’s on basket duty.”
“After dinner, then.” Ella picked up her cane and gripped Sophie’s elbow.
Brad held the door open and watched the pair exit, their movements synchronized. There was a trust between Sophie and Ella that Brad suspected would be there even if Ella wasn’t blind. Yet there was more in their whispered words and in their soft laughter that showed their love for each other. There was a bond that Brad recognized. He had something similar with his older brother, but he suspected the love between Sophie and Ella was unconditional and always would be. He wondered just how far Sophie would go to protect their relationship. Brad fell into step on the other side of Sophie.
“Never mind about the introduction to your mother,” Sophie said.
“I’ll pick you up Sunday at ten and take you to meet her.”
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“But I agreed.” He adjusted the basket in his arm and widened his stance, brushing against a guy encroaching on their space. “Sunday at ten. Now about my favor.”
Sophie frowned. She didn’t look at him, and her focus remained on her surroundings. “I wasn’t aware I’d agreed to a favor.”
“This one is easy,” he said. “You’ll let me install the security system I want in your shop, not the lame one I picked up off your floor.”
“That system was rated five stars.”
“Maybe for a week five years ago,” he said. “Technology has come a long way since IP cameras and DOS computers.”
“It isn’t that old,” she argued.
“The next time you pick up your bat, you can use it on that camera,” Brad said.
Ella giggled.
“That was a one-time thing.” Sophie’s chin clicked two degrees higher as if to punctuate her statement. “My bat days are behind me.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Brad said. “You’d kill it at a piñata party.”
A smile lifted the corner of her mouth, disrupting the tension in her stiff chin. Brad’s laughter mixed with hers. What was wrong with him?
He must’ve inhaled too much lint or bleach fumes in the Laundromat. He didn’t skip across city intersections with his own laundry, let alone a stranger’s. But with Ella and Sophie he was tempted. He used teasing as a deflection. But with Ella and Sophie, he wanted to laugh for the simple joy. He didn’t find contentment in holding a woman’s hand. Until today.
He squeezed the plastic handles on the basket. The laundry was the only thing keeping him from reaching for Sophie’s hand. That’d be a mistake. If he held her hand again, he might fall under her spell. But he was finished with women maneuvering him for their advantage. So he’d concentrate on his own agenda and keep his hands to himself. Then nothing could go wrong.
CHAPTER NINE
A LONG GLASS WALL with two sets of French doors overlooked an infinity koi pond. A pair of detailed cement staircases framed the pond and led into an English-style garden. The entire view made Mayor Harrington’s home office feel more like a lavish sunroom than a staid place for civic duty.
Inside the room, hand-carved white paneling, white antique furniture and white marble floors urged a person’s eyes to nature’s ever-changing color palette just beyond the glass. And if a visitor tired of nature, a volume of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream sat waiting to be enjoyed on the expensive chaise longue beside the ornate gas fireplace. And if Shakespeare wasn’t to a person’s taste, then there was certainly something to be discovered among the well-stocked shelves of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases.
Sophie would’ve preferred to use the chaise longue as intended: to faint on. She uncrossed her legs and straightened in the Queen Victoria–style armchair with white linen fabric that she’d expected to have been covered by thin plastic to protect it from wine stains or pet-shop owners covered in cat hair.
Brad hadn’t mentioned they’d be interrupting his mother’s monthly bruncheon with over a dozen of her society friends. Brad hadn’t mentioned his mother and her gang had a theme for each gathering and that today’s was an elaborate Mardi Gras event complete with feather headpieces and Venetian half masks inlaid with rhinestones and green velvet ribbons.
Sophie smoothed her palms over her jeans, then straightened her top. At least she’d left her baseball cap on the door hook at the Pooch. Still, there was no denying her running shoes had seen more miles than an Olympic cross-country star. She was the scrubbing-floors Cinderella to Mayor Harrington’s queen mother.
And there wasn’t a fairy godmother ready to materialize in the solarium and rescue Sophie.
Only Mayor Harrington, who appeared now with her royal purple suede four-inch heels, and matching poise. The mayor offered another apology to her guests and closed the connecting door, blocking out the women’s chatter blending with Brad’s deep laugh and the clinking of silver forks against fine china.
Sophie’d lied when it came to turnabout. An eye for an eye had never been her style. Her stomach dropped.
She was here, though, and needed to drown her nerves in the bottom of that koi pond. Sophie inhaled, dragging in as much of the vanilla scent from the candles on the mantel without choking. She could’ve stuck the pillar candle under her nose, but wasn’t sure that’d be enough to ease her anxiety.
Mayor Harrington sat behind her desk and removed her pointy-toed slingbacks. She pulled a pair of chestnut-colored sheepskin boots from under her desk and grinned at Sophie. “I suggested a polar bear–plunge theme today precisely so that I could wear these boots. However, given the calendar, we had to celebrate Mardi Gras. The heels are necessary for the added height, but these boots are my private reward.”
The mayor’s boots were as worn as Sophie’s running shoes. Sophie eased her feet out from under the chair.
“My son hasn’t brought anyone home in quite some time.” Mayor Harrington stretched her legs out, flexed her feet and studied Sophie. “This, I must admit, is a bit of a surprise.”
“It isn’t... We aren’t together like that.” Sophie touched her head, searching for her familiar baseball cap. The mayor’s cool gaze was sharp and clear-cut. “It’s a bit more underhanded, in fact. I asked Brad for an introduction. I caught him at a weak moment and used it to my advantage.”
“I see.” Mrs. Harrington’s laughter was short and compressed, but there was something genuine in the sound. “I assume if you requested an audience via my son, then you’re here for business. I’m not exactly the sort of celebrity one wants to spend the day with unless I can push an agenda. What’s your agenda, Sophie Callahan?”
Sophie’s agenda involved preserving the only stability she’d managed to give Ella. Sophie wanted to keep the home she’d built for them. But she wasn’t here to play the sympathy card with Mayor Harrington.
Even in her worn shearling boots, the mayor of Pacific Hills exuded confidence, like the timeless elegance of the hand-carved armrests beneath Sophie’s elbows. Sophie didn’t doubt Mayor Harrington had an agenda. Always. And she lived it without apology or excuses.
Sophie’s agenda included Mayor Harrington. She believed the mayor could take up sponsorship of the dog ball. Sophie could stretch a dollar since she’d had to in the fourth grade when her parents had left. She’d do that now. She just needed the endorsements. The mayor loved animals, owned dogs and supported animal causes. The woman was a natural sponsor for this event.
Now was the time to convince the mayor to share her vision. “I’m organizing an event to benefit service animals. Your love of animals is well documented and the journeys of your greyhounds are photographed and blogged about.” Sophie looked out the windows, past the gardens, at the expansive trimmed lawns that would make a lovely dog park complete with fenced runs, rest and water-play areas. A five-star doggy day care.
Sophie strove for three-star accommodation and five-star care.
She turned to the mayor and snapped her backbone in place. It was time to own her agenda. “As a fellow animal supporter I’d like to offer you a sponsorship position at the Paws and Bark Bash.”
“The bash is your creation?” the mayor asked.
April had crafted the name when she’d helped Sophie design the graphics for the event. The concept had evolved from an impromptu evening of wine and what-ifs with Kay. “Yes, it’s my event.”
Other than the quick, successive foot flex, the mayor was still and contained, every movement regulated, along with her voice, which neither peaked with interest nor lowered with disgust. “When is your event?”
“The second Saturday in March,” Sophie answered. The mayor was calmness to Sophie’s need to move. Sophie wiggled her toes inside her shoes, wanting to pace the marble tiles or better yet run across the lawn. Her fingers twitched and her palms dampened from the unease.
“That’s less than a month away, but you shouldn’t collide too much with the Saint Patrick’s Day festivities.” Mrs. Harrington studied a desk calendar. “Where is it being held?”
“The Pavilion at the Reserve,” Sophie said.
“The Reserve can be lovely this time of year,” she said. “The Plaza Ballroom or Piazza Pavilion?”
“Plaza Ballroom,” Sophie said.
“You might consider the Pavilion and request use of the lawns, providing you’ll promise to keep all dogs leashed and under proper supervision. I’ve witnessed a spooked terrier scale the six-foot fence and plunge into traffic because of a careless handler.”
Sophie nodded as the urge to pace receded. Certainly Mayor Harrington would’ve
returned to her guests by now if she wasn’t interested. Surely she’d not offer suggestions. Encouraged, Sophie plunged ahead, padding the numbers. “The guest count is currently close to seven hundred fifty.”
“Commendable attendance for your first event.” The mayor made no move to leave. “I presume there is a silent auction.”
“Yes, local businesses have donated over two hundred items, including Napa weekend getaways and handcrafted jewelry.” At least she planned to have more than two hundred items and a live auction, but she needed more than stainless steel hors d’oeuvre trays.
“You should ask local artists to hand-paint fire hydrants for your live auction, if you wanted to add a unique flair.”
Sophie just wanted flair. It didn’t have to be unique. None of her current customers were local artists. And she didn’t even know where to begin to collect old fire hydrants. Time to return to her agenda and forget the distractions. “I’ve allotted for a full three-course dinner. There will be a runway show to highlight the dogs up for adoption.”
“You might consider a buffet with carving stations and smart, easy food choices to avoid the fuss of a formal dinner,” the mayor said. “Your guests could mingle with the animals and each other.”
Buffet carving stations added to her catering budget, an already very limited one. “We have a cash bar. However, I fully intend to offer drink tickets with the purchase of event tickets next year.”
“You’ve given thought to this event beyond your first year?”
Sophie soaked in Mayor Harrington’s approval. “Absolutely. I intend for this to become one of the city’s premier fund-raisers.”
“Then you’re prepared to put in the work to scale such an event to the size you foresee?”
“I wouldn’t be here, using your son for an introduction, if I wasn’t prepared to put everything into it.”
“You’ve picked a worthy cause,” Mrs. Harrington said. “I’ve discovered people often have a softer spot for animals than their own family. You shouldn’t lack for sponsors.”
The Charm Offensive Page 8
