The Party Starts at Midnight

by Lucy King

  Professionally there was nothing on the horizon that sprang to mind. No openings, no celebrations, nothing. And, anyway, if he did manage to drum something work-related up, it would no doubt be so spurious that his brother would be on it like a terrier, wondering at his sudden interest in the role that Jake usually played and undoubtedly coming to all kinds of—probably accurate—conclusions. All of which was about as appealing as a kick in the balls.

  He couldn’t think of anything personal either. He generally loathed parties and now rarely threw any himself. After the hideously mortifying debacle that had been his wedding day, the mere thought of being centre of attention again brought him out in a cold sweat.

  None of his friends was getting married so there were no stag nights to sort out. Jake’s birthday wasn’t until November, and, as he’d just turned thirty, the next one wasn’t significant enough to warrant a full-blown party the likes of which would need an organiser like Abby. His own birthday was months away, and, again, wasn’t a major one.

  The obvious solution would have been to call Abby back and cancel, but for some reason something had stopped him from doing that. Every time he picked up the phone he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Somehow it seemed to smack of cowardice, weakness, indecision, and having told her he had business to discuss with her, what possible reason could he give for now not?

  As a result, for the first time in years Leo was in one hell of a mess. Abby was about to pitch up any moment expecting to be asked to organise something, and he didn’t have a clue what.

  Hell.

  He shoved his hands through his hair and ran through the options all over again. Work? No. Friends? No. Jake? No. So what was left? His parents? Nope. They were in their early sixties and there was nothing significant going on there. Aunts? Uncles? Cousins? Neighbours? Pets?

  Pets? Damn. That was really scraping the barrel, especially since the only pets he knew of were the flock of hens his father had given his mother on their last wedding anniversary.

  Although, hang on...

  Wait one tiny little moment...

  Leo froze, mid pace, backtracking frantically and zooming in on the thought dancing around in the shadows of his mind.

  Hadn’t the hens arrived in spring? Therefore, wasn’t his parents’ anniversary coming up some time soon? March? April, maybe? And hadn’t there been thirty-nine of the flapping, clucking things?

  With his heart going like a steam train and his brain spinning like a top, he did the calculations and punched the air in relief and triumph because...yes, this spring, his parents had been married forty unimaginably long but presumably happy years.

  Heaven only knew how they’d done it—he’d fallen before the first hurdle, namely the church, and had no intention of ever going remotely near an altar again—but nevertheless, halle-bloody-lujah, because if forty years of marriage weren’t worth celebrating, weren’t worth the kind of party that needed an organiser, then he didn’t know what was.

  * * *

  Deciding that Leo wasn’t the man for her was all very well in theory and all very logical and rational and satisfyingly sensible but unfortunately Abby’s body wasn’t having any of it.

  No. Her body, treacherous being that it was, remembered with unforgiving clarity exactly what she and Leo done together and how fantastic he’d made her feel, and was demanding more.

  It didn’t matter that they hadn’t touched, that he’d barely looked at her since she’d walked through the door. Just one look at him and she’d wanted to march right up to him and kiss him senseless.

  So much for the pep talk she’d given herself on the drive over, during which she’d told herself to focus on business at all times. And so much for the assumption that the chemistry that had surged between them on Friday night had been nothing more than a blip, brought on by fatigue, adrenalin and the thrill of success. She’d underestimated the force of his presence and the efficiency of her memory. Big time.

  But it would be fine, she’d told herself, removing her coat and hanging it up then taking the seat he’d indicated. It had to be. In well-worn jeans, white shirt and chocolate-brown jacket and leaning back against the edge of his desk, he might be looking unbelievably sexy but that wasn’t important.

  This afternoon wasn’t about contemplating a repeat of Friday night, however tempting it was to leap up, push him back over his desk and climb on top of him. This was all about business, and it was high time she channelled the professional he was expecting instead of the seductress he surely wasn’t.

  Ruthlessly stamping out the desire simmering away deep inside her and reminding herself that whatever had gone on between them before it was over and Leo was now nothing more than a potential client, she gave herself a quick shake, plastered a bright smile to her face and was just trying to think of something to break the oddly unnerving silence when he spoke.

  ‘Thank you for giving up your Sunday afternoon to meet me,’ he said. ‘I appreciate it.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Abby with a polite smile since politeness was obviously the way this afternoon was going to go. ‘On the phone you said you had business to discuss so what can I do for you, Mr Cartwright?’

  She thought she caught a flicker of something in his eyes and a slight tightening of his jaw but both were so fleeting that she figured she must have been imagining things.

  ‘Mr Cartwright?’ he echoed, his eyebrows lifting although his expression and eyes remained inscrutable in a way that she was beginning to recognise.

  ‘This is business.’

  ‘Nevertheless, it’s a bit late for such formality, don’t you think?’ he said, his gaze skating over her for a second and igniting the heat she’d been doing so well to bank. ‘Especially given how well we know each other.’

  Abby set her jaw and concentrated on not thinking about how well they knew each other, carnally at least, because she really wasn’t going there again, not physically, not even mentally. ‘Whatever you say. Leo.’

  He tilted his head and smiled faintly at her. ‘Abby,’ he said, and despite her best intentions she immediately thought of the way he’d growled her name in her ear while buried deep inside her.

  ‘So?’ she said, lifting her chin and determinedly blocking it out.

  ‘I’d like you to sort something out for my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary.’

  Oh. For some reason, Abby was taken aback. She hadn’t been expecting something social. She’d been thinking corporate. She really didn’t know why. Maybe it was that he seemed so remote and so icy cool she couldn’t imagine him having friends and enjoying himself. She certainly couldn’t imagine him having parents.

  ‘Well?’ he prompted. ‘Would that be something you could do?’

  Abby snapped back and pulled herself together. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said smoothly, and took her book out of her handbag.

  ‘No iPad?’ he asked, sounding a bit surprised.

  ‘Not for this. Pen and paper don’t let you down and I can doodle and make notes to my heart’s content.’ She opened her book on a new page, her pen poised. ‘Now, what were you thinking?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘OK, well, a date would be a good start.’

  ‘April,’ he said. ‘Or possibly March.’

  ‘Could you be a little more specific?’

  ‘Not immediately.’

  ‘Right,’ she said with a doubtful nod. ‘Venue?’

  ‘I’ll have to get back to you on that.’

  ‘Approximate number of guests?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Food? Drink? Entertainment? Budget?’ At his lack of response Abby arched an eyebrow. ‘Let me guess—you’ll be getting back to me on those too.’

  ‘How could you tell?’

  Stifling a sigh, she closed her book and put her pen do
wn on top of it. ‘Do you have any idea at all of what you’d like?’

  ‘Not off the top of my head.’

  This was all very strange, she thought, trying not to frown. Clients usually had at least some idea of what they wanted, but with Leo it was as if he’d only come up with the plan five minutes ago. And couldn’t this initial approach have been done over the phone? ‘Is it to be a surprise?’

  ‘Why not?’ he said, flashing her a quick smile that flipped her insides. ‘It was to me.’

  ‘What?’ she asked, momentarily dazzled.

  ‘Never mind.’

  Hmm. ‘Do you know what your parents like?’

  ‘Not especially. But my mother’s best friend will know who to contact and what they like. I’ll let you have her details.’

  ‘At last,’ said Abby with a grin. ‘Something you do know.’

  ‘Makes a change, doesn’t it?’ he said, and she had the weirdest feeling that he wasn’t just talking about the party.

  ‘OK,’ she said, shaking off the feeling, because anything other than the party was of no interest to her, and putting her pen and book back in her bag. ‘I’ll firm up the initial details with Jake and get a contract drafted.’

  ‘Not Jake,’ he said and she glanced up at him, somewhat surprised by the sharpness of his tone and the narrowing of his eyes.

  ‘No?’

  ‘Jake will be travelling. A lot. He won’t have time to organise a party. You’ll liaise with me.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Abby, although it wasn’t fine at all because how the hell was she going to be able to keep her mind on the job when she was finding it so hard to resist the temptation to jump his bones? ‘No problem. Just one thing though...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Won’t it be awkward?’

  ‘Won’t what be awkward?’ he said, looking at her as if he didn’t know perfectly well what she was talking about.

  ‘Well, you know, after what happened on Friday night.’

  ‘I don’t see why it should be,’ he said dryly. ‘It was just sex. Wasn’t it?’

  Abby swallowed. ‘Right. Yes. Of course it was.’

  ‘We should be able to be move past it, don’t you think?’

  Move past it. Yes. Definitely. Top idea, seeing as how he clearly hadn’t been as bothered by the memory of it as she had. ‘Oh, absolutely.’

  ‘Great. So you’ll do it?’

  Of course she would. Apart from a Valentine’s Day cocktail party and a couple of corporate events her diary was pretty much free until June, when the wedding season kicked in, so she’d be mad not to.

  And actually, maybe moving past it would be easy and liaising with Leo would be all right because there probably wouldn’t be much need to see him before the night of the party, whenever that was to be. Bar a couple of likely exceptions their contact could be kept entirely to email, text and occasionally the phone.

  Relieved beyond belief that she’d found a way through the mess she was in, Abby beamed and said, ‘I’d be delighted.’

  * * *

  The minute he saw Abby emerge from the door to the building that housed his office, Leo retreated from the window, sank into his chair, fell forward and started banging his head on the desk.

  He was an idiot—bang. A bloody—bang—bloody—bang—fool. Why, oh, why hadn’t he just cancelled the sodding meeting and to hell with cowardice, weakness and indecision? Quitting the banging, which had hurt more than he’d expected, Leo buried his head in his hands instead. Why hadn’t he agreed that Jake would deal with the details? Why had he told her he’d be the one to liaise with her? She’d handed him the perfect solution to his problem on a plate and he’d rejected it without even considering it. Was he completely and utterly insane?

  He’d told her that he didn’t see why their recent history should be a problem but it was a problem. Of epic proportions. Because it was all he could think about and now, thanks to his spectacular brain fail, he was going to have to see her. Keep in touch with her. All the sodding time. To discuss ridiculous things like the colour of the napkins and whether to have fish or chicken when all he really wanted to discuss was where precisely she’d like him to ravish her.

  And wasn’t that a pointless discussion to be hoping for? He’d taken one look at her, in her knee-high brown suede boots, short suede skirt and a jumper of the softest pale blue, so very strokable and touchable and, yes, kissable, and he’d been a goner. He’d had to grip the edge of the desk to stop himself from reaching out and pulling her into his arms, while she’d sat there all cool and composed, a repeat of Friday night very much not going through her mind the way it was his.

  He was a fool, but what was done was done and there was little he could do about it now without looking even more of an idiot. So he’d just have to grit his teeth, make sure he had an unshakable grip on his self-control and get on with it.

  Deciding to start with bringing Jake up to speed just in case Abby ignored him and got in touch with his brother anyway, and wondering how the hell his life could have become so complicated within such a short period of time, Leo reached for his phone. He scrolled through the numbers until he found his brother’s, hit the dial button and braced himself for a conversation he’d really rather not have.

  ‘Jake?’ he said when the call was answered.

  ‘Hi, what’s up?’

  ‘Two things. First, we’re throwing a surprise party for Mum and Dad’s fortieth wedding anniversary.’

  ‘Oka-a-ay,’ said Jake after a beat. ‘And second?’

  ‘Second, remember the Madrid development which is running behind schedule and which I said I’d oversee?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘It’s all yours.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  To: Leo Cartwright

  From: Abby Summers

  Subject: Cartwright ruby wedding anniversary party

  Date: 16 December

  Dear Leo

  Following our meeting yesterday I’m writing to confirm that I’m thrilled to be entrusted with the organisation of your parents’ ruby wedding anniversary. Please be assured that no effort will be spared in making this an event to remember.

  Attached is a list of items for your consideration. I would be grateful if you could get back to me as soon as possible so I can make a start on the arrangements in the new year.

  Kind regards, Abby

  To: Abby Summers

  From: Leo Cartwright

  Subject: Re: Cartwright ruby wedding anniversary party

  Date: 18 December

  Dear Abby

  I’m as thrilled as you are. Many thanks for sending over the document. I’ve now had a chance to look through all eight (?!) pages. My answers/queries are attached.

  Best wishes, Leo

  To: Leo Cartwright

  From: Abby Summers

  Subject: Party—queries

  Date: 24 December

  Dear Leo

  Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. Believe me, eight pages is nothing when it comes to planning an event like this. Please find my answers to your queries below.

  1. Re the venue, Barton Hall would be perfect, if you’re sure it won’t be an imposition. Three months isn’t a lot of notice and suitable places can get booked up years in advance, so using your house is the ideal solution. I’ve had a quick glance at Google Earth and have identified a field that would be perfect for out-of-sight guest parking (outlined in red on the attached map—let me know if it’s not suitable). As your parents will be familiar with the house it has the added benefit that fewer suspicions will be aroused.

  2. I can, by all means, draw up a guest list, although it would be better if you did as you know your parents and their friends better than I do. I suggest enlisting
the help of Jake and your mother’s best friend.

  3. No, you don’t have to subtly quiz your parents about what they’d like if you don’t want to, and you certainly don’t have to video it. While this method can help me with the planning of surprise events, if you’re not comfortable doing this the chances are that that element of the party may well be blown. Best not to risk it. With regards to decoration/tablecloths/napkins etc. we can stick to red and keep things tasteful.

  4. Will you let Jake know he’s to make the speech, or should I?

  5. No, I don’t think a black tie dress code would be too ‘stuffily formal’. After all this is quite an occasion.

  6. You’re right. People will probably bring gifts. A room and a member of staff dedicated to dealing with them will solve the problem of gifts/labels going astray.

  7. Far from tight, the budget you’ve indicated is extremely generous and will make my job a lot easier/more fun. Not to mention giving the party a whole string of wow factors should you want them.

  As all the preliminary details have now been provided I’ve attached a breakdown of costs, and the contract. If everything is to your satisfaction, please print off two copies of each, sign and return to me for countersignature.

  Abby

  PS—If you were a fan of it, I’d wish you a Happy Christmas, but you aren’t so I won’t. Instead, I hope you enjoy the malt.

  To: Abby Summers

  From: Leo Cartwright

  Subject: Christmas

  Date: 24 December

  But you are a fan of it, so Happy Christmas, Abby. Everything looks fine—contracts are in the post. Yes to wow factors. Sadly the malt never materialised but I should think I’ll survive.

  Leo

  To: Leo Cartwright

  From: Abby Summers

  Subject: April 2

  Date: 10 January

  Hi Leo

  Happy New Year! (Surely you can’t not be a fan of that?!) Just to let you know the following have been booked for April 2:

  Caterers (please confirm menu choice)

  Bar plus staff