by L. P. Dover
“Last weekend’s party was pretty epic,” Jordan says, drawing my attention away from my inner thoughts.
“Yes, it was,” I agree.
She snorts and looks over at me. “And I still think you’re crazy for turning down Brent Davidson. He’s the freaking running back for the Carolina Cougars. If I wasn’t married…”
I roll my eyes. “He’s a womanizer, Jordan. The last thing I want is to be in the tabloids like all his other conquests. I feel sorry for all the women he dupes.” Don’t get me wrong, the man is not only famous, but he’s gorgeous. We had the privilege of planning the team’s Halloween party this past weekend. We made five figures from that one party, and they asked us to plan their Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve gatherings as well. Never in my life would I have thought I’d be making as much money as I am doing what I love.
Jordan sighs. “Yeah, it’d probably be bad for business if you got mixed up with him. It’d make for planning their next parties very awkward.”
“Exactly.” I nudge her with my elbow. “Although it was nice being flirted with.”
She narrows her gaze, giving me that mischievous grin of hers. “I seem to recall a little more than flirting going on at the masquerade party we put together last month where someone in this car mixed a little business with pleasure.” Her eyes widen. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t want to get it on with Brent. You’re still hung up on your mystery man, aren’t you?”
Groaning, I smack a hand to my forehead. “Please don’t remind me of my indiscretion. I let a little intrigue cloud my judgment. It’s never going to happen again.”
Jordan fans herself. “Well, whoever it was behind the mask had an amazing body and sexy hair. I can’t believe you didn’t get his name.”
“That was the whole point. We didn’t want to know each other’s names.” The masquerade party was for one of Charlotte's biggest architectural firms held at one of the nicest hotels downtown. The owner had all of his employees from both the east and west coasts come in. There were hundreds of people. All decked out in formal wear and masks. When the mysterious man with the striking gray eyes came my way, I couldn’t seem to tell him no. I didn’t want to say no. A round of drinks turned into another and another. The next thing I knew, we snuck out of the ballroom to a hotel room upstairs and made a night of it. What I loved most about him was how attentive he was to me. He made sure I enjoyed myself. By three o’clock in the morning, I was exhausted, but I slipped out before I could fall asleep.
Jordan releases a heavy sigh. “Oh, to be single again. Sometimes I wish I had done spontaneous things like you. It sounds so exciting.”
I shrug. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” I say, even though I’m sort of lying. The night I had with my mysterious man was one of the best times I’ve ever had. Would I like to do it again? Most definitely. “I’d give anything to find the man I’m supposed to be with,” I add. “Maybe get married and have children. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Please, you look amazing. And thirty-two is not old; it’s prime time. I swear, every year you get more and more beautiful. I’d kill for your auburn hair and bright green eyes. Not to mention, your boobs look amazing in those skintight dresses you wear to the parties.”
“And your ass looks amazing in yours,” I quip back. “You have the curves I want.”
We pull into the radio station parking lot, and I grab my bag out of the backseat which has our portfolio with pictures from all of the parties we’ve planned over the years. The Nightmare Ball for 95.1 The EDGE is one of the hottest and largest Halloween events in the Queen City. When Jordan and I got the call the other day from one of the radio hosts, we couldn’t say no. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting all week.
Jordan takes in a deep breath and blows it out slowly as we get closer to the door. “Relax,” I say, giggling under my breath. “We got the job already.”
“I know,” she replies nervously. “I’m still shocked they booked us without meeting us first.”
It surprised me as well, but what I figure is we came highly recommended by someone we’ve worked with before. When we get to the door, it opens, and a young man with dark hair and a wide, bright smile greets us. He holds out his hand to me first. “You must be Ensley Anderson.” I recognize his voice from the radio; it’s Damien Forrester, the man I spoke to on the phone who was told to hire us.
I smile and shake his hand. “I am.”
Then he turns to Jordan. “And, Jordan McMahan.”
She shakes his hand, and he opens the door wider. “Come on in,” he says. “My name’s Damien Forrester. We spoke on the phone the other day.”
I walk in and turn to him. “It’s nice to meet you.” Jordan agrees with a nod.
He flourishes a hand toward the hallway. “The meeting room is right down the hall. I’m looking forward to working with you both.”
“Same with you. Halloween’s my favorite time of the year,” I say as we follow him.
“Glad to hear it.” He walks into the giant meeting room with a large oval table that can seat twelve people. Jordan and I take our seats, and he sits across from us.
“I don’t know if you wanted to look at our portfolio, but I brought it just in case you were curious to see what we can do.” I look over at Jordan and then back to him. “Guess you can say we were a little shocked the station hired us without a meeting first.”
Damien waves me off. “You came highly recommended. One of Tri-City Media Group’s owners attended one of your parties and was thoroughly impressed. He convinced the others you were a sure fit to make our event a success.”
The compliment makes me smile. “We’re flattered. Thank you so much for the opportunity.”
Damien sits back in his chair, his gaze roaming back and forth from me and Jordan. “The station wants this year’s party to be different from the others. We want it bigger and better, which means we need a different venue. I was hoping you’d have some suggestions. We also want to make this year’s event for singles only. There have been lots of requests for it.”
Interesting. It’s actually not a bad idea. It just so happens I have a ton of ideas. I slide my small notebook out of my bag and write down some notes. “Don’t worry about the venue. Jordan and I have put together many events in downtown. I know the perfect place.” We just had a party at a nice hotel in downtown that’d be perfect. It’s also convenient having it at a hotel since it’s a singles only ball. I’m sure a lot of the hotel rooms will be booked up that night once it’s said and done.
I scribble a few more notes into my notebook. “How about food?” I ask, meeting Damien’s gaze. “Open bar? Dessert only? Costumes mandatory?”
His grin widens. “All of the above. I’m leaving it all in your capable hands. There’s no money limit on this. I was told to give you free rein on whatever your creative mind comes up with.”
Never in my life have we been given such freedom with planning a party. I honestly don’t know how much to do. Jordan seems to be in just as much shock judging by her gaping mouth. She looks at me and laughs. “Wow. This is a first.”
Damien slides an envelope my way. “My boss wanted me to give you this upfront. It should cover the entire party, and also, your fee for planning.”
The envelope isn’t sealed and I really want to peek inside, but something tells me it’s going to be way more than enough. “Thank you,” I say as I slide the envelope into my notebook. “We won’t let you down.”
Damien stands and holds out his hand. “I know you won’t. We’re all looking forward to the party. The tickets usually sell out within the first hour they’re posted. We’ll wait to put them up for sale until we hear from you on the venue. This way, we can figure out how many tickets we need.”
I shake his hand, and Jordan does the same. “Sounds great,” I tell him. “I’ll contact the venue as soon as we leave here and have an answer for you later this afternoon.”
Damien nods happily. �
��Perfect. I look forward to hearing back from you.” He walks over to the door and opens it. “Do you need me to walk you out?”
“Oh, no.” I wave him off. “But thank you though. We know where to go.”
He says his goodbyes and heads in the opposite direction down the hallway. Jordan leans in close and whispers in my ear. “How much is in the envelope?”
My heart races excitedly. I slip the envelope out of my notebook and pull the check halfway out. It’s like the air whooshes out of my lungs the second I see the figures. I slap a hand over my mouth. “Holy shit. It’s half a million dollars.”
Jordan grabs her chest. “Oh, my God. This is insane.”
Quickly, I push the envelope back into my notebook and take a deep breath. I thought we made a lot of money from the Carolina Cougar party, but this one takes the cake. I grab Jordan’s arm so we can get out of there. What I really want to do is scream at the top of my lungs and do a victory dance. I’m just floored at how far Jordan and I have come in just over eight years.
Picking up my pace, I pull Jordan with me. “We really need to celebrate tonight.”
Her eyes widen at something to my side. “Ensley, look out.”
Just as she says it, I bump into someone on my left. Not only do I bump into him, but I accidentally step on his foot as well, losing my balance in the process. “Oh my God,” I gasp just as a firm grasp grips my arm to steady me. The man beside me smiles and loosens his hold on me.
“Glad I was here to catch you.”
For a moment, it’s like I’m frozen in time. His voice sounds so familiar, but I don’t recognize his face. “I am so sorry,” I apologize. “I should’ve watched where I was going.”
His dark blue eyes twinkle. “No worries.” Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Owen Jameson.”
I shake his hand. “Ensley Anderson, and this is my business partner, Jordan McMahan.”
He shakes her hand, as well. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you both. Everyone here is excited for the Halloween bash.”
“They should be. It’s going to be epic.”
Owen smirks. “I have no doubt. I’m sure I’ll see you ladies again soon.”
I’m too mesmerized by his voice to even respond. Jordan speaks up for me. “Yes, you will. Have a good day.” She squeezes my arm, and I follow her to the door. “Talk about gorgeous,” she says low. “He’s single too. I didn’t see a wedding ring.”
I roll my eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything. He could still be married, just not wearing a ring.”
She stops at the door and sneaks a glance over her shoulder. “Nope. He’s single. For some reason, he can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.” She opens the door, and before I follow her out, I take one last look behind me. Owen’s lips tilt up slightly in a sexy smirk, and he stares at me as if he knows me.
Why do I feel like I know him?
Two
Owen
“Good afternoon, Al,” I say as I step into the lobby of the building that houses Tri-City Media Group. Al, the manager of the concierge desk, smiles.
“I see you had a little run-in.” He nods toward the outside, and without even thinking, I turn and grin, remembering everything that happened a few minutes prior. I may have a scuff on my expensive shoes, but I don’t care, it was well worth it. I can’t seem to get the image of Ensley’s bright green eyes out of my mind.
I shrug. “It happens,” I tell Al. “And I’ll never mind a little scuffle with a beautiful woman.” I tap my hand on the top counter and walk toward the elevators, only to bypass them and head to the bathroom.
The men’s restroom on the first floor of the building is gray and steel. Manly colors, according to the interior designer the owner brought in to give the space a facelift. I’m not sure what the women’s restrooms look like, but the temptation is there to sneak in after-hours and look. The only issue is explaining to security when they catch me on camera entering a room I shouldn’t be in. I will say the bathroom is rather lovely. There is a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table with the most current magazines when you first enter. At first, I found this odd, and then my assistant informed me if I had a headache or needed to take a nap, I could use the “rest” part of the bathroom. The only thing is, the place isn’t soundproof or smell proof for that matter. So, if I have a headache, the last thing I want to do is be in here “resting” when someone needs to take care of business.
Along the wall to my left is a large mirror running the length of the continuous sink. Unwilling to get my suit wet, I pull a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and set them against the marble countertop. I don’t know what possesses me, but I stand here for a moment and look at my reflection. . .and blink.
A lot.
“Ugh,” I say to myself as I dig in my pocket for my contact lens case. I set it on the counter and twist the caps off before I wash and dry my hands. Once they’re dry, I slip each lens out of my eye and put it away. Instantly, my index finger and thumb press against my eyes. They itch, but it’s not the kind of itch that is painful. It’s more like relief. I’m not used to wearing contacts, but sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. The reason I’m desperate is because I thought a one-night stand would be no big deal, and I was so very wrong. I never thought I’d ever have to conceal the color of my eyes. Ensley would recognize me in a heartbeat. Maybe I’m being paranoid but she did tell me they were a peculiar color and she was mesmerized by them. It’s not the first time I’ve heard this.
Finally, my vision is clear and not clouded by a micro-thin piece of plastic, which definitely served its purpose today, and I’m blinking like I don’t have something lodged in my eyes. Although my eyes are watering, I can deal with this issue.
Leaving the bathroom, I make my way to the elevators and key in the floor number I need. The countdown on the screen tells me how long I must wait. When the numbers reach ten, I start counting down as if it were New Year’s Eve. Thankfully when the doors open, the car is vacant. Otherwise, someone would’ve seen my excited party face. Stepping inside, I stand there in the most professional way possible and wait for the doors to close. Thankfully, with the updates the owner did to the building, he upgraded the elevator system. It’s now very efficient and takes you directly to your floor.
The doors open, and I step off, nodding at the people I pass by. Each one is my employee. Well, mine and Damien’s. We own a radio station. It was never my goal nor Damien’s. When we were in college, we both worked at the station on campus. Somehow, between the two of us, we increased listenership over one-hundred-percent, brought in so much ad revenue the station started making money, and the school had to create an application process for people who wanted to work there. In my junior year, there were so many applicants we could run five shows and never had a gap of coverage.
It only made sense for Damien and me to enter the radio business. The only problem was we wanted to work together, and every time we went on an interview, or someone recruited us, it was one of us and never both. It wasn’t what we wanted, so we did what any eager college graduates would do with trust funds to deplete—we defied our parents and started our own station. That was ten years ago. Now we have multiple stations with varying formats, with our Top Forty station airing nationwide.
Tri-City Media takes up the top three floors of PNC Plaza, with mine and Damien’s office on the top floor. He is at one end, and I’m at the other, and if we leave our doors open, we can have a foam gunfight if we want. For Christmas last year, I bought us an arsenal of pump action airsoft guns for the fun of it.
I stroll into Damien’s office and close the door behind me. He looks at me, over the top of his glasses, and cocks the biggest shit-eating grin I have ever seen. Damien pulls his glasses off, tosses them onto his desk, and leans back in his chair. He steeples his fingers and chuckles lightly as I sit down across from him.
“A piece of ass for five hundred k.” He shakes his head. “Please tell me it’s more than that.�
�
“It is.” At least I hope so. I groan and slump in the chair. “I’m stupid.”
“A little,” he says in agreement. “You exhausted how much more of your trust fund for this?”
“I don’t even want to know.” In all honesty, it’s not much. Tri-City Media Group brings in a shit ton of money. I just made sure to use my part of the earnings.
Damien laughs. “I will say she’s beautiful.”
“She is,” I tell him. “I can’t even explain how I feel when I’m near her. The entire time she was meeting with you, I was in the control room with security watching so I could time the right moment to run into her.”
“And did it work?”
“It did.” I laugh. “I was just around the corner of the meeting room when she walked out. She wasn’t watching where she was going, but I was, and she ran right into me.” I hold my leg up and inspect my shoe. Maybe I’ll leave the mark there for a few days, so I have something to look back on. “Anyway, I looked right into those green eyes of hers and felt my knees go weak. She’s the one.”
“And you know this from one night?” Damien asks.
I shake my head and sit upright. “I knew from the moment I saw her, even though she was wearing a mask. I was across the room, and there she was, in this green mermaid dress.” Damien holds his hand up, and I pause.
“How the hell do you know what a mermaid dress is?”
“My sister is a fashion designer. If you don’t think I had to model dresses for her when I was younger, you’re crazy.”
