Operation Prince Charming

by Phyllis Bourne

  He shook his head. “It’s been a long day. I need to get to bed.”

  “That’s exactly where I want you.”

  She crossed her legs suggestively, letting the slit of her dress fall open, revealing her thigh. His mind flashed back to Ali sitting in the passenger side of his car, and how a glimpse of her shapely thigh had practically set his mouth to watering.

  Ignoring her invitation, he rounded the car and opened the passenger-side door for her. “Maybe another time.”

  Realization dawned on Hunter as he drove to his town house. He wanted to get in a woman’s panties tonight, all right, but that woman wasn’t Erica.

  It was Alison Spencer.

  Erica couldn’t believe it. Hunter had turned her down.

  She stalked through the foyer. An overhead crystal chandelier illuminated the pricey art and antiques along the corridor. The real estate agent had said it was decorated with an eye for European modernism. Erica just knew it looked expensive, in keeping with the image she wanted to project.

  Usually, she marveled at the posh décor, still unable to believe she lived in such a grand place. She alsowished her mother, a housekeeper who’d spent her life cleaning up after rich people, were alive to see it.

  Tonight, however, she was oblivious of her surroundings. Erica’s ears were peeled for the sound of Hunter’s footsteps coming up behind her. When she didn’t hear him, she glanced over her shoulder.

  No Hunter.

  Erica stopped. She pivoted on her Christian Louboutin pumps and looked through the glass door. His car was gone.

  He’d actually gone home to his dinky town house rather than spend the night in her luxurious penthouse with her. Even after she’d swallowed her pride and offered up an apology, when it was clear she hadn’t done anything wrong. Not to mention hinting she wasn’t wearing anything beneath her dress.

  She bit back another wave of disappointment. It wasn’t going to happen tonight.

  Raising her chin, Erica walked past the concierge station. It was Hunter’s loss. Anyway, she didn’t like how he’d made her look bad in front of the Palmers.

  “I was told the singing of Te Deum was a highlight of the first act,” she mimicked.

  Then he had admitted to them this was his first opera like some ignorant bumpkin, rather than letting them believe this was a typical outing for them.

  Erica exhaled, the thought of it angering her all over again.

  Yet she knew once she’d had him in her bed, she would have been more than willing to forgive him.

  “Good evening, Miss Boyd.”

  The concierge walked from behind his desk and used his key to open the elevator leading to the penthouse level.

  “You look lovely tonight. Did you enjoy your evening out?”

  Erica exhaled sharply as she boarded the elevator. “I’m not in the mood for small talk tonight, Dan,” she said crisply. “Just take me up to my floor, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Guilt niggled at her. She shouldn’t take her foul mood out on Dan. It wasn’t his fault she was stuck riding in the elevator with him instead of Hunter. If fact, she’d given Hunter a key to the elevator when she’d first moved in. Back then he couldn’t wait to get her alone in the elevator.

  She heard a chime and the doors opened. Erica pulled some bills from her clutch and offered them to Dan to make up for snapping at him.

  Dan kept his hands at his side. “No, thanks, Miss Boyd.”

  Damn, Erica thought. Was every man in Nashville turning her down tonight?

  Inside her penthouse, she kicked off her shoes and poured herself a glass of wine. She downed it in one gulp and helped herself to another.

  She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, which offered a spectacular view of downtown Nashville.

  “I’m on top of the world, literally,” she said, hoisting her glass in mock salute to the sparkling city lights.

  Then why did she feel so miserable?

  Erica took a generous sip from her wineglass. Her mother had dreamed of one day living like the people she’d cleaned up after and shared her fantasies of the glamorous life with her daughter.

  Gladys Boyd would pick her young daughter up and twirl her around. “One of these days, a rich man is going to take one look at my beautiful little Erica and make her the queen of one of these castles,” she’d say.

  Gladys had scrubbed toilets to put her Erica through nursing school, and after graduation she secured her daughter a private-duty job taking care of a wheelchair-bound woman.

  Erica had grown very close to her wealthy, elderly patient over the years, more so after Erica’s mother had suffered a fatal heart attack. Neither of them had family, so their bond had been like one of blood relatives.

  Erica circled her finger around the rim of the near-empty glass. Her patient’s death six months ago had been a heartbreaking blow, but she was shocked to learn the woman had left her the bulk of a considerable estate.

  Now she was finally the queen of the castle, as her mother had always wished, Erica thought. Unfortunately, her subjects hadn’t realized the old Erica was gone forever.

  Vivian Cox had yet to give her stamp of approval that would guarantee Erica access to the best clubs and committees and acceptance among her elite social circle.

  Then there was Hunter, who was doing absolutely nothing to help her toward her goal. If anything, he’d become a hindrance.

  Erica placed her empty glass on the table for the maid to take care of in the morning and sauntered upstairs to her bedroom. Since Hunter Coleman didn’t possess the kind of charm and sophistication she required in a partner, maybe it was time she found a man who did.

  Chapter Ten

  Ali arrived at the school early again the next morning, eager to begin her day.

  After walking around the mall with Sandy last night, she still hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty apartment. She’d thought about stopping by her aunt’s house, but vetoed the idea. It had been nearly nine o’clock at night, and more than likely, her aunt would have been asleep.

  So instead she’d stopped by a twenty-four-hour, big-box home improvement store on her way home from the mall. There was so much the school needed, she didn’t know where to begin. However, after scouring the aisles for the better part of an hour, she’d decided on a portable air-conditioning unit, and at the last minute she’d tossed a new ceiling fan for her aunt’s office into her cart.

  Although Aunt Rachel got around better than a person half her age, Ali realized she was getting up in years. She wanted to make her aunt’s office more comfortable this upcoming summer, because who knew when they’d be able to afford central air-conditioning?

  Ali walked into her aunt’s office, intending to install the fan before the older woman came in to work, but was surprised to see her aunt already seated at her desk.

  “Aunt Rachel, I didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

  Her aunt looked up from the papers she’d been reviewing and greeted her with a smile. As usual, she was wearing a suit, in a flattering shade of lavender. “I wanted to get this paperwork done before my ‘Art of the Afternoon Tea’ class,” she said. “I’m going out to lunch today.”

  Ali raised an eyebrow. “With a man?”

  “You know better,” “Aunt Rachel responded with a smile. “I’m having lunch in Franklin with my friend Vivian. We pledged sorority together back in college,” she said. “Since your uncle passed, the only man in my life is Jesus.”

  Her aunt’s husband had died before Ali was born, but there were framed photos of him in nearly every room of her aunt’s home.

  “That reminds me,” Ali said. She grabbed a chair from across the room and plopped it down in front of her aunt’s desk. “Edward and I went out for coffee,” she said.

  “Oh.” Her aunt averted her eyes as she reshuffled the sheaf of papers in her hand.

  “Don’t you want to hear about our date?” Ali narrowed her gaze. “The one you insisted I go
on.”

  Her aunt put down the papers and sighed. “Alison, I didn’t know. Really, I didn’t. When Celia bragged about her newly single nephew, she implied he was your age. I had no idea he was older than me.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Celia brought him by the house after his date with you. He wanted me to use my influence to convince you to go out with him again.”

  Ali’s mouth dropped open. She shook her head to get the horrific thought of Edward and his magic pills out of it. “I hope you’re not going to try, because there’s no way I’m going out with him again.”

  “Certainly not,” her aunt huffed. “I told him to put on some proper clothes, take those asinine earrings out of his ears, and grow up.”

  “You didn’t?” Ali asked with amusement in her voice, wishing she could have been the proverbial fly on the wall.

  “Yes, I did. Then I told him to go home and beg his wife’s forgiveness.”

  “Good for you, Auntie,” Ali said. She leaned forward in her chair. “Do you think he’ll go back to his wife? Do you think she’ll take him back?”

  Aunt Rachel rolled her eyes. “I don’t care.” She lowered her voice and winked. “I just don’t want that old goat to wind up being my nephew.”

  Ali threw her head back and laughed until tears brimmed in her eyes. She looked over to see her aunt laughing too.

  “I’m sorry for practically forcing you into that blind date,” Aunt Rachel said. “You’re welcome to start your techie or whatever you called it class with my blessing.”

  Ali shook her head. “Oh, it’s going to take more than that to get you back in my good book.”

  Her aunt dabbed at the tears of laughter in her own eyes with a handkerchief before blowing out a defeated breath. “What do you want?”

  “I need you to promise me that you won’t try interfering in my life again,” Ali said. Once the embarrassment of this attempt wore off, she didn’t want her aunt playing amateur matchmaker again.

  Her aunt looked down before raising her head to meet her gaze. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, dear.”

  Ali sighed. “You know how much I adore you, but I simply can’t allow you to interfere in my life again.”

  “It’s too late,” he aunt said. “I’ve already stuck my nose into your business.”

  “Oh, Auntie,” Ali groaned, wondering what the older woman had obligated her to do now.

  “I mentioned to my soror, Vivian, that you lost your job at that paper down in Florida. Long story short, she pulled a few strings.”

  Ali watched her aunt pull open the top drawer of her desk and take out a business card. “An interview has been set up for you at the paper here. Here’s the managing editor’s card.” She slid it across her desk. “He’s expecting your call.”

  “I can’t,” Ali said with determination. “Any job I get will be on my own merits.”

  Her aunt shook her head. “This is simply an interview, dear. If a job comes out of it, believe me, it will be on your own merit.”

  Ali took the card and slipped it into her pocket. She rounded the desk and hugged her aunt. “Thank you, Auntie.”

  A strange feeling enveloped her as she walked down the hallway toward her own office. It took her a few moments to realize it was hope.

  She hadn’t felt it in a very long time.

  Hunter smoothed his hand over the section of drywall and ran the sandpaper over it again. He’d spent the other night scraping off the worn cabbage rose print wallpaper from his grandmother’s old dining room and patching the dings he’d made in the walls.

  Today was his first day off in two weeks. He planned to spend the morning sanding down the rough spots from his patch job and prepare the walls to paint.

  He pulled his dust mask down and walked over to change the station on the satellite radio he kept here to keep him company while he worked. The soulful sounds of an R & B song gave way to the strains of the opera channel. He turned up the volume.

  Hunter had no idea who the singer was or what the song was about. All he knew was he liked it.

  “Who do you think you’re fooling?” he muttered, covering his nose and mouth with the mask. He picked up the sandpaper again. “You like it because it makes you think of Ali.”

  Visions of the joy on her face when she’d tried to prepare him for last night’s performance floated to the forefront. She’d been so excited over the opera, she’d lowered the invisible wall she’d erected around herself, and for a little while she’d let him in.

  It made him wonder what it would be like if she really dropped her guard around him. His thoughts drifted to the kiss they’d nearly shared.

  Hunter rubbed the sandpaper harder against the wall. He had no business entertaining those thoughts. Although it hadn’t seemed like it lately, Erica was the woman in his life.

  He thought about the way she had acted last night. He’d done his best to help her, and she’d basically had a hissy fit. Even if he had followed her up to her place, nothing would have happened between them.

  Her behavior had been a total turn-off.

  A knock sounded and the front door squeaked opened at the same time.

  “Son, is that you?” his father’s voice called out.

  Hunter yanked down his dust mask and sighed. He hadn’t wanted to get into this yet, especially with his father. “I’m in the dining room.”

  The senior partner of the corporate law firm bearing his name, Michael Coleman was usually at his downtown offices or in court at this time of day.

  “What are you doing here, Dad?”

  His father, in his workday uniform of dark suit, white shirt, and paisley tie, looked about the room in amazement as he walked on the drop cloth covering the floor. “I thought the same thing when I passed by and saw your car parked in the driveway.”

  “Careful,” Hunter said, getting between his father and one of the walls. “You don’t want to get dust on your suit.”

  His father sidestepped the wall. “Thanks.” The shocked expression remained on his face. “I have a meeting with the chief executive officer at the hospital.”

  For as long as Hunter could remember, his father’s firm had handled legal matters for the community hospital just a few blocks away. His father continued to look around. “I had no idea you’ve been working on Mama’s house.”

  Hunter swallowed hard to push down the remorse that still rose to his chest at the mention of his grandmother. Fifteen years had passed since she’d died, but Hunter’s guilt lingered.

  Ignoring the dust, his father ran a hand over the walls. “I see you took down the wallpaper,” he said.

  “A few days ago.” Hunter hesitated. “Are you okay with it?”

  Although the house belonged to him and he didn’t need his father’s permission, the old man’s approval was still important. He was relieved when his father smiled.

  “I begged your grandmother for years to let me take it down, but she refused. Your grandfather had put it up as a surprise for their first wedding anniversary, and she didn’t care how old and ugly it got, it was staying.”

  Hunter remembered his grandmother standing in the same spot he was standing on now saying the very thing. The thought of her standing with her hands on her hips defending the hideous wallpaper brought a smile to his lips, even if he couldn’t manage a laugh.

  His father slapped him lightly on his back. “No, son. I don’t mind. Mama’s been gone a long time now,” he said. “It’s time.”

  “I’m going to paint in here.” Hunter rubbed his hands against his work jeans. He went to the other side of the room and retrieved a color sample card. “What do you think?”

  His father eyed the shades of terra-cotta and scanned the room. “It’s going to be quite a change, but a good one, I think. It’ll give the place a masculine feel to it.”

  “I already pulled up the carpet. The hardwood floors underneath it are too nice to hide. I’m planning to sand and refinish them.”

&n
bsp; “Do you need a hand? I put myself through undergrad working construction. Even at sixty, I can still pound a mean hammer. I could come by on the weekends.”

  Hunter shook his head. He’d turned down his father’s offers over the years to renovate the old house. He’d even refused his father’s more than generous offer to buy it from him.

  “I can’t explain it. All I know is it’s important for me to do the work on this place myself…” Hunter paused and smiled briefly at his father. “But I appreciate the offer.”

  “I can’t wait to see how it turns out.” His father inspected a section of wall Hunter had already sanded smooth. “So, are you thinking of moving in here when you’re done?”

  Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

  “Son, you have to forgive yourself. I know your grandmother wouldn’t want you beating yourself up like this.”

  Hunter stiffened. “Not now, Dad.”

  His father threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I’ll let it go, but your mother will have my hide if I don’t ask when you’re going to come by the house for dinner.”

  “Soon,” Hunter said, relieved his father had dropped the subject. “Now come see what I did with the kitchen.”

  His father stopped midstep and glanced at the radio. He raised a graying eyebrow. “Opera?”

  Hunter smiled. “It’s a new interest of mine.”

  Ali hummed a tune from Tosca as she stood on the ladder positioning the last blade on her aunt’s new ceiling fan. She’d been floating on the sliver of hope her aunt had given her since this morning.

  While having an interview was a long way from being a columnist again, thanks to Aunt Rachel and her friend Vivian, she was a lot closer than she’d been yesterday.

  Moreover, figuring out a strategy for the upcoming interview with the paper’s managing editor kept her from fretting about seeing Hunter again tonight.

  Ali heard a deep male voice hum in tune with hers, and she turned toward the doorway. Leaning against the doorjamb of her aunt’s office, looking sexier than any man had a right to, stood the man she’d been trying not to think about all day.