Dear Prince Charming

by Donna Kauffman

  Jack shot Eric a look that said, “Puleeze,” to which Eric just smiled smugly and puffed out his chest a little.

  Jack shook the guy’s hand. “Yeah. Nice to meet you, too.”

  Brice looked at Eric, and there was no missing the flash in those eyes. Oddly enough, the byplay, rather than making Jack uncomfortable, brought forth a wave of concern. Eric was certainly enjoying his foray into the real world, but Jack couldn’t help but worry that his buddy was thinking with . . . well, not with his head.

  “Jack, this is Brice McGrath.”

  “Eric has told me a lot about you,” Brice said, teeth flashing. “Amazing success you’ve had. Well done.” He leaned in a bit. “If you ever need any investment counseling, I’d be happy to talk.”

  “Thanks. We’re pretty happy with the way things are set up.” Eric’s smile dipped a little, and Jack relented. “But I’ll be sure to keep your offer in mind. Listen, do you mind if I borrow your, uh . . . Eric, here, for a few?”

  Impossibly, Brice’s smile brightened further. “I don’t mind at all. Wonderful to meet you. Congratulations.”

  It took Jack a second to remember what he was being congratulated for. “Right. Thanks.”

  They stepped to the corner. Jack glanced past Eric’s shoulder. “Where did you pick him up, anyway? Club Dread?”

  “You’re just jealous of the accent.”

  “Yeah, that would be it. Where’s he from?”

  “British Virgin Islands.”

  Jack gave Eric a deadpan look, then shook his head. “It’s too easy.”

  Eric grinned. “You can beat him up if he breaks my heart, okay?”

  He backed down a little. “I’m sorry. I’m sure he’s a nice guy. It’s just—I’m not used to having to worry about you. And I’ve lost enough people in my life, okay? Be careful.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid.” Eric glanced at Brice, who immediately beamed. And Eric lit up like a rainbow-coalition Christmas tree. “For now, at least.” Before Jack could do more than roll his eyes, Eric nodded toward Valerie. “Besides, you’ve got your own love life to worry about. The lady looks good in red.”

  Jack agreed wholeheartedly, but the last thing Eric needed was encouragement in the matchmaking department. “I don’t have time for a love life.” He motioned to the insanity presently taking place beyond their curtained-off area. “I’ve been a little preoccupied, remember?”

  “Yeah, I know,” Eric said, immediately contrite. “And I owe you big.” His gaze flicked once again to Brice and his excitement couldn’t be contained. “Bigger than you know.”

  “Now we’re venturing into the too-much-information zone.”

  “That wasn’t a euphemism, Mr. Evolution.”

  “Fuck you,” Jack said.

  Eric grinned. “Get in line.”

  “Okay, I’m leaving now. The press is all yours, buddy boy,” Jack said, turning away.

  Laughing, Eric pulled him back. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. It’s just—” His whole face was illuminated in a way Jack could never remember seeing before. “I’m sorry, I know I sound giddy. But it’s so damn incredible. Being free, for the first time. If it wasn’t for you—”

  “Enough with that, okay?”

  “Fine. But do one more thing for me. Cash the check, Jack. If that crowd out there is any indication, you’re going to earn it.”

  Jack ignored that.

  Eric wisely didn’t push. “Back to your love life. What’s the deal with you and Valerie? And don’t give me the song and dance about working the crowd. The crowd was the last thing on your mind when you two walked in here.”

  “I’m telling you, there is no deal,” Jack said, his gaze drifting automatically over to her and Jenn. Yet, he thought, watching as she laughed at something Jenn said, even as she checked her watch and looked at the door. Always working. Speaking of which. “Are you staying for the duration? Or have you made other plans?”

  “No, I’m here for you tonight, for us,” Eric said, mercifully turning his attention back to business. “Val said you read the books. Do you have any questions, anything you’re worried about? As your manager, I can stick pretty close by and no one would question it. Any hesitation in fielding any kind of off-the-wall query, all you have to do is look to me and I’ll step in. Maybe we should come up with some kind of signal. . . .”

  “God, now you sound like Valerie. It’s some pictures and a few questions. It’s not going to be that tough.”

  “Wasn’t that you blinking like Mr. Magoo when you walked in here?”

  “I was caught off guard. I won’t be again. I’m a journalist. We’re great observers. We think on our feet. I’ll be fine.”

  Just then the godmothers bustled in, a swirl of stiff linen (Mercedes), fluffy silk (Aurora), and snug black satin (who else?).

  Mercedes took in the measure of the room and the people in it with a quick but thorough once-over. Aurora rushed over to buss Valerie on both cheeks. Vivian headed directly to a tray filled with champagne flutes. Before Jack had a chance to do more than straighten his tie, they all descended on him.

  “There he is,” Aurora cooed. “Our man of the hour.”

  Vivian sipped her champagne and gave him a critical once-over. “Very nice, darling.” She tipped his clean-shaven chin between two lethal-looking fingernails. “My, you do clean up well.” Only Vivian could so blatantly invade the personal space of someone she barely knew and make it seem completely acceptable.

  “I’m very sorry we weren’t here to greet you when you arrived,” Mercedes said, her mouth still pulled down at the corners. In fact, Jack was beginning to think that was her permanent expression. “We were unavoidably delayed.”

  “Now, Mercy, don’t start in,” Aurora began immediately.

  “Yes,” Vivian chimed in. “It’s hardly her fault that she needed another fitting. This night is special and it wouldn’t do to be seen in something less than perfect.” She sipped her champagne. “So, how did Johannes fit, hm?”

  Aurora blushed furiously as Vivian adopted an innocent expression that no one over the age of ten would have bought.

  “Really, the both of you are enough to tax me into a migraine,” Mercedes grumbled.

  Valerie had already rescued two flutes from the nearby tray and was handing one to Mercedes. She kept the other for herself. “Here. This evening is going to be wonderful. The turnout is spectacular. Rob just stuck his head in to say that everything is set. Jack, are you ready?”

  He didn’t dare do anything other than nod.

  “If you three are ready, we can commence with the unveiling.”

  Aurora fanned herself. “Oh, this is so exciting.” She pinched Vivian’s arm. “Our own magazine, Vivi. Way would turn over in his grave if he knew what I’d gone and done this time.”

  Jack knew from Valerie that Aurora had been married many years back to Senator Way Favreaux, and that it was after his death over a decade ago that the three women, all at a crossroads in their lives, had teamed up to start their own business, which operated out of what was once Aurora’s home. A palatial spread in tony Potomac.

  “Nonsense,” Mercedes said. “He’d be proud of you.”

  Aurora merely snorted. “Now, now, you know as well as I do that he believed women were meant to serve mint juleps and make small talk. Not turn their ancestral home into a business empire. Or start up a periodical.” She took Vivian’s champagne glass from her. “Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean we have to nominate the man for sainthood.” With that, she downed the remainder of the flute’s contents. Smiling brightly, she said, “Shall we go turn the world on its ear?”

  Snatching a fresh glass from a passing tray, Vivian toasted her. Mercedes merely sighed, but finally nodded and moved toward the rear exit from their little staging area. Aurora linked arms with Vivian and they followed in Mercedes’ wake. Jack imagined that that was probably the normal pattern for the three of them.

  Valer
ie peeked through the black shimmery curtains, then back at the trio. “Wait right here. I’ll have Rob escort you up the stairs, onto the dais.” She ducked out, but was back in a blink with the ubiquitous Rob, who was apparently some sort of stage manager for the event. For all Jack knew, Valerie could be racked with nerves, but she didn’t show it. Her eyes were gleaming and her smile bright and confident as she ushered the three women into big Rob’s manly care.

  As soon as they were safely climbing onto the small stage that had been erected for the presentation of the cover, Valerie motioned Jack over. “Okay, let’s go over what you’ll be doing.” Gone was the confident smile and assured air. “What?” she demanded when he smiled.

  “Nothing. You just put on a great show for them.”

  She didn’t pretend not to understand. “That’s what I get paid for. To put a good public face on any situation. Hopefully, to my employers’ increased advantage.”

  “They’re lucky to have you, you know.”

  The sincere compliment caught her off guard, judging by her reaction. Which was fine by him, as it had caught him off guard, too.

  “We’ll see if you still feel the same way a couple of hours from now.”

  “Your faith in me is so underwhelming.”

  Her lips quirked a little, but she quickly shook that off. “It’s not that I don’t have faith. I just don’t want you to take this so . . . cavalierly.”

  “I owe too much to Eric for that to happen. But it’s a party. I’m great at parties. Trust me.”

  Before Valerie could say another word, there was a group gasp from the collected guests, then a roar of applause and cheers. The cover had been unveiled.

  “And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for,” Vivian announced. “Dear guests, media friends, and world at large. You’ve read his books, you’ve taken his advice—or not, much to your peril,” she added with a sly wink. “But now he’s all ours. And we’ve convinced him to share himself with you. At least for the next hour or so. So get ready. I give you, for the first time in public . . . Mr. Jack Lambert. Our very own Prince Charming!”

  Jack’s gut squeezed into a tight fist and he was pretty certain he was going to throw up. So he did what any self-respecting man who was about to pull off the world’s most ridiculous charade since Milli Vanilli would do to quell his nerves.

  He pulled the nearest woman into his arms and planted one on her.

  Valerie’s arms flailed for only a moment before grabbing onto his lapels and steadying her mouth beneath his.

  Her eyes were a bit glassy, her lips soft and open, when he lifted his own. “Thanks. I really needed that.”

  “Uh . . . yeah. Right. Anytime,” she managed, still disoriented.

  “Be careful, I might hold you to that. In fact, holding you felt pretty damn good.”

  She recovered swiftly, already frowning. “Jack—”

  He stroked a quick thumb across her lip. “That’s Prince Charming to you.” He shot her a wink, then strode through the parted curtain.

  A blitzkrieg of flashes blinded him, the delirious applause and cheers roared over him. The world was waiting.

  And all he could think about was kissing Valerie Wagner.

  With a wry smile that was pure Jack Lambert, he bounded onto the stage.

  Synchronicity

  It’s easy to say it was the right person at the wrong time. Harder to go for it, anyway. And we all know there is truth to the saying that harder is better.

  Chapter 10

  “He’s something else,” Aurora said, leaning in close so Valerie could hear her over the continued din of the party.

  “He is that,” Valerie murmured. Jack apparently hadn’t been kidding about his people skills. But then, her lips were still tingling and their kiss had been hours ago.

  “And tireless,” Vivian added with an appreciative sigh. “Always a good thing.”

  Valerie shared her smile, but privately she wasn’t too sure about that. Her plan had been the media exclusives followed by the handpicked queue of print reporters, questions kept to a bare minimum. Everyone would get just enough to ensure a mention in every market and hopefully make people want to buy the magazine to learn more. She’d planned ninety minutes, two hours tops, then Jack would be whisked away, back to his carefully protected privacy, where all would assume he was back to work, soothing the needs of many—and spiking the desires of more—with his witty and timely advice.

  Three hours later, and The Jack & Eric Show was still in full swing.

  Valerie had hung on to at least a thread of control through his five-minute chat with Nancy O’Dell, monitoring every syllable uttered between them from her post five feet behind the cameraman. Jack had handled himself almost too well, she had to admit. He’d managed to turn the tables on Nancy, teasing her, feigning disbelief that she had ever required his advice assistance—flirting, basically—just enough to deflect answering anything but the most basic of questions. The answers to which they’d hammered out ahead of time.

  The print interviews had been more nerve-racking, with Valerie worrying about what angle each reporter planned to take. Some of their questions had been unexpected, but Jack never faltered. In fact, he’d tried to wave her off several times when she’d stepped in to warn the reporter their time was up. She’d ignored him.

  Yes, he was a journalist himself, and knew all about hidden agendas and predetermined angles, but he was enjoying himself way too much, a fact he conveyed with the occasional wink sent her way, the cocky grin, the quick shoulder squeeze and “Chill, would you? I’m fine,” that he handed her between interviews. But she knew that when you relaxed too much, you let your guard down. So she made sure they stuck as close to the schedule as possible, giving him as little rope to hang them all with as possible.

  After the last reporter left, still dreamy-eyed—she’d purposely selected mostly female reporters, but did they all have to fall for good looks and an easy line?—she’d told Jack they’d make the rounds of the room once, say their good-byes to the godmothers, and call it a night. A very successful night, she’d finally started to allow herself to believe.

  Oh, it was successful, all right. Everyone was having the time of their lives. Except her. For her it had been a three-hour roller-coaster ride. She’d crunched through an entire roll of antacids already.

  Eric, who had been by her side all through the interviews, had stepped in during the chitchat, schmooze-the-room part of the night, and somewhere along the way, the duo had taken on a life of their own. Much to the guests’ delight. You’d think they’d rehearsed, except it came much too easily to be an act. No, those two were the real deal, friends with a special bond that can only develop over time. They worked the room like seasoned party-circuit veterans.

  For all her cynicism, the odd pang of envy came as a surprise. Just because her friends were scattered over the course of her career path, sort of like the trail left by a streaking meteor, it wasn’t as if she was a loner. But it was hard to watch the two of them, with Jack’s all-work-and-no-play speech still echoing in her ears, and not start to question things.

  Eric was laughing over some verbal jab from Jack, which had the small crowd around them hooting. That was what she’d missed out on. That thing where you fit with someone so seamlessly that you finished each other’s sentences, had such a wealth of shared experiences that the most innocuous comment would trigger the same memory, the same in-joke. It was intimate without being sexual. Familial.

  She thought about her family. Parents who were both professionals, who admired her work ethic even as they despaired of her ever finding her niche. She always thought she was lucky; they hounded her about settling down, but into a career, not a marriage. Oh, they’d be happy enough if she found the right man and started a family, but their marriage was more a business partnership than a grand love affair.

  She tried to picture them with grandchildren and smiled when the visual proved to be beyond her. Workaholics, both of them, she’
d come by her own tenacity and drive honestly. Howard and Evelyn had many friends, every one of them a business associate first, friend second. Despite the more bohemian nature of her collection of pals, Valerie had to admit it was the same for her. Not one person in her address book had come to be there through any other path than a professional connection.

  That had never bothered her before. At the moment, however, watching Eric and Jack, it felt just the tiniest bit hollow.

  “Why the long face?” Aurora asked, pressing another flute of champagne into her hand. Valerie took a small sip, knowing she’d discard it shortly, as she had the last half-dozen they’d plied her with. She wasn’t ready to celebrate a victory. The night wasn’t over yet.

  “Just keeping an eye on our investment,” she told Aurora, uncomfortable with the woman’s awareness of her moods. And quite aware of the irony there. Pining for the intimacy of real friendship, yet uncomfortable and unsure when a chance to find it presented itself.

  She was too strung out on nerves and an empty stomach to analyze that at the moment.

  “We definitely got our money’s worth,” Vivian chimed in, joining them. “And my, my, that Eric? How yummy can you get?”

  “Vivi, hush,” Aurora admonished her, then turned sparkling eyes on Valerie. “They are quite something, though, aren’t they?”

  Mercedes joined them, happier than Valerie could recall ever seeing her. She couldn’t help but think that it was the three women who were quite something. Despite their innate personality differences, it was clear they were as successful at maintaining their personal relationships as they were at expanding their business endeavors. Again she felt that tiny pang, but rather than feel sorry for herself, she counted herself lucky to be on the periphery of their friendship. Who knew, if she stuck around long enough, maybe she’d learn something.