Читать книгу Substitute Seduction - Cat Schield - Страница 10
ОглавлениеHarrison spent more than his usual twenty minutes in the bathroom of his penthouse condo overlooking the Cooper River as he prepared for his meeting with London McCaffrey.
A woman he’d dated for a short time a year ago had given him pointers on grooming particulars that women appreciated. At the time he’d viewed the whole thing with skepticism, but after giving the various lotions, facial scrubs, hair-care products and other miscellaneous items a try, he’d been surprised at the results and happily reaped the benefits of Serena’s appreciation.
Still, as much as he’d seen the value in what she’d introduced into his life, his focus during racing season left little room for such inconsequential activities. Today, however, he’d applied all that he’d learned, scrutinizing his hands to ensure they were grease-free and giving his nails more than a cursory clipping, even going so far as to run a file over the edges to smooth away any sharpness. Although he didn’t touch the high-tech race cars until he slid behind the wheel, Harrison often unwound from a race weekend by tinkering with the rare classics his uncle bought for his collection.
Today, however, as he surveyed his charcoal jeans, gray crewneck sweater and maroon suede loafers, Harrison decided that someone as stylish as London would appreciate a man who paid attention to his grooming. And in truth, his already elevated confidence was inflated even further when the receptionist at ExcelEvent goggled at him as he strolled into the King Street office.
“You’re Harrison Crosby,” the slender brunette exclaimed, her brown eyes wide with shock as he advanced on her desk. “And you’re here.” She gawked at him, her hands gripping the edge of the desk as if to hold herself in place.
Harrison gave her a slow grin. “Would you let London know I’ve arrived?”
“Oh, sure. Of course.” Never taking her eyes off him, she picked up her phone and dialed. “Harrison Crosby is here to see you. Okay, I’ll let him know.” She returned the handset to the cradle and said, “She’ll be out in a second. Would you like some coffee or water or...?” She trailed off and went back to staring at him.
“I’m fine.”
“If you want to have a seat.” The receptionist gestured to a black-and-white floral couch beneath the ExcelEvent logo painted in white on the gray wall. “She shouldn’t be too long.”
“Thank you.”
Ignoring the couch, Harrison stood in the center of the room, wondering how long she would leave him cooling his heels. While he waited, he took stock of his surroundings, getting a sense of London’s taste from the clean color palette of black, white and gray, the hint of drama provided by the silver accessories and the pop of color courtesy of the flower arrangement on the reception desk. On the wall across from him was a large-screen TV with a series of images and videos from various events that London had organized.
In his hand, his phone buzzed. Harrison sighed as he glanced at the message on the screen. Even though he took Mondays and Tuesdays off during the season, rarely an hour went by that his team wasn’t contacting him as they prepared the car for that week’s upcoming race. Each track possessed a different set of variables that the teams used to calibrate the car. There were different settings for shocks, weight, height, springs, tires, brakes and a dozen other miscellaneous factors.
For the first time in a long time, Harrison debated leaving the text unanswered. He didn’t want to split his focus today. His team knew what it was doing. His input could wait until his meeting with London concluded.
A change in the air, like a fragrant spring breeze, pushed against his skin an instant before London McCaffrey spoke his name.
“Mr. Crosby?”
As he looked up from his phone, Harrison noted the uptick in his heartbeat. Today she wore a sleeveless peach dress with a scalloped neckline and hem, and floral pumps. Her long blond hair fell over her shoulders in loose waves. Feminine perfection with an elusive air, she advanced toward him, her hand outstretched.
Her fingers were cool and soft as they wrapped around his hand. “Good to see you again.”
“I intend to call you London,” he said, leaning just ever so slightly forward to better imprint the faint scent of her floral perfume on his senses. “So you’d better call me Harrison.”
“Harrison.” Still holding his hand, she gazed up at him through her lashes, not in a manner he considered coy, but as if she was trying to take his measure. A second later she pulled free and gestured toward a hallway behind the reception desk. “Why don’t you come back to my office?” She turned away from him and led the way, pausing for a brief exchange with the receptionist.
“Missy, were you able to get hold of Grace?”
“I had to leave a message. Do you want me to put her through when she calls?” Missy glanced at Harrison as she asked the question.
“Yes. It’s urgent that I speak with her as soon as possible.” London glanced back at Harrison as she entered her office. Like the reception area, this tranquil space was decorated in monochrome furniture and accessories. “I hope you don’t mind the interruption, but I’m organizing a fiftieth wedding anniversary for a client’s parents in a week and some things have come up I need her to weigh in on. She’s currently out of the country and not due back until just before the party.”
“I understand.” His phone vibrated with another incoming text as if to punctuate his point. “I’m sure you have all sorts of balls in the air.”
“Yes.” She gestured him toward a round table to their left and closed the door. “I always have several projects going at once.”
“Are you a one-woman show?” His gaze tracked her as she strode to her glass-topped desk and picked up a utilitarian pad and basic pen. No fancy notebooks and expensive writing instruments for London McCaffrey.
“No, I have several assistants,” she explained as she sat across from him. “Most of them help me out on a part-time basis, but I have two full-time employees plus Missy, my receptionist.”
“I didn’t realize your company was so large.”
She acknowledged the implied compliment with a slight smile. “I’ve been fortunate to have expanded rapidly since I opened my doors.”
“How long have you been in business?” Harrison leaned back in his chair and let his gaze flow over her slender shoulders and down her bare arms.
She sat forward, arms resting on the tabletop, the pen held lightly in her fingers. “Nearly six years. I started right out of college.”
“Why an event planning company?”
Her eyes narrowed as if she’d suddenly noticed that he was interviewing her, but her voice remained smooth and unruffled as she answered. “My mother used to be a socialite in New York and has always been big on the charity circuit. I started attending events when I was in my teens and mostly found them tedious because I didn’t know anyone. To keep myself occupied, I would spend my time analyzing the food, decor and anything else that went into the party. When I got home, I would write it all down and make notes of what I would do differently.”
Harrison found himself nodding in understanding as she described her process. “That sounds a lot like how I got into car racing. My uncle used to let me help him work on the cars and, when I got old enough to drive, gave me the opportunity to get behind the wheel. I could tear apart an entire engine and put it back together by the time I was fourteen.”
“I guess we both knew what we wanted to do from an early age.”
“Something we have in common.” The first of many somethings, he hoped.
As if realizing that they’d veered too far into the personal, she cleared her throat. “So you said you were interested in having someone organize a party for your brother’s birthday?”
“Yes.” Harrison admired her segue back to the reason for his visit. “He turns forty next month and I thought someone should plan something.”
After meeting London the other night, Harrison had called his mother and confirmed that no one was in the process of planning anything for Tristan’s fortieth birthday. In the past, events like this had been handled by Tristan’s wife, Zoe, but she was out of the picture now.
She tapped her pen on the notepad. “Tell me something about your brother.”
Harrison pondered her question for a moment. What did he know about Tristan? They were separated by more than just an eight-year age difference. They had different ideologies when it came to money, women and careers. Nor had they been close as kids. Their age differences meant the brothers had always attended different schools and Tristan’s free time had been taken up by sports and friends.
“He runs the family business since our dad semi-retired five years go,” Harrison began. “Crosby Automotive is a billion-dollar national chain of auto parts stores and collision centers in twenty states. We also have one of the largest private car dealership groups on the East Coast.”
“And you race cars.”
Her matter-of-fact tone carried no judgment, but Harrison imagined someone as no-nonsense as London McCaffrey wouldn’t view what he did in a good light. No doubt a guy like Tristan, who put on an expensive suit and spent his days behind a desk, was more her cup of tea. On the other hand, she had been engaged to a baseball player, so maybe Harrison was the one guilty of being judgmental.
“I’m one of four drivers that races for Crosby Motorsports.”
“Car twenty-five,” she said, doodling a two and a five on her legal pad before encircling the numbers with a series of small stars.
He watched her in fascination. “Yep.”
“I’ve never seen a race.” She glanced up, caught him watching her and very quickly set the pen down atop the drawing as if embarrassed by her sketch.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he said. “I’m racing on Sunday in Richmond.”
“Oh, I don’t think...” Her eyes widened.
“It’s my last race of the season.” He made his tone as persuasive as possible.
London shook her head. “It’s really not my thing.”
“Then what is?”
“My thing?” She frowned. “I guess I don’t really have one. I work a lot, you see.”
“And that leaves no room for fun?”
“From what my friend told me about a racer’s schedule, I’d like to know when you slow down for fun.”
“You have me there. I’m on the go most of the year.”
She nodded as if that put an end to the topic. “So, how many people are you looking to invite to your brother’s birthday party?”
“Around a hundred.” He’d secured a list from his mother after realizing he’d better not show up to a party planning meeting empty-handed and clueless.
“And do you have a budget?” London had relaxed now that they’d returned to familiar territory and flipped to a clean page so she could jot notes.
“Keep it under ten.”
“Thousand?” She sounded a tad surprised, leaving Harrison questioning whether he’d gone too high or too low. “That amount opens up several possible venues. Of course, the timing is a little tight with it being the start of the holiday season. Did you have a particular date in mind?”
“His birthday is December fifth.”
“I’ll have Missy start calling around for availability.” She excused herself and went to speak to her receptionist.
Harrison barely had a chance to look at any of the several texts that had come in while they’d been talking before she returned.
“Are you thinking a formal sit-down dinner with cocktails before and dancing afterward or something more casual?”
“My mother insists on a formal event. But I don’t think dancing. Maybe a jazz band, giving people a chance to mingle and chat.” Harrison was even more relieved that he’d checked with his mother because he was able to parrot everything she’d suggested.
“You were smart to get her input,” London said, picking up on his train of thought. “I guess my last question for now is whether you had any sort of theme in mind.”
Theme? Harrison was completely stumped. “I guess I was just thinking it was his fortieth birthday...”
“A color scheme?”
More and more Harrison wished he’d found a different way to connect with London McCaffrey. “What would you suggest?”
Her lips pursed as she pondered the question. “I’ll pull together three ideas and run them past you. What are you thinking about for the meal?”
“Wouldn’t it depend on the place we choose?”
“Yes, but it might help narrow things down if I thought you wanted seafood versus steak and chicken.”
“Ah, can I think about it?”
With a slight shake of her head, she pressed on. “Give me your instant thoughts.”
“Seafood.”
She jotted that down. “There are several venues that do an exceptional job.”
Although he’d never planned an event like this before, Harrison was finding that the process flowed easily with London in charge. She was proving to be both efficient and knowledgeable.
“You’re really great at this,” he said.
Her lips quirked. “It is what I do for a living.”
“I didn’t mean to sound surprised. It’s just that I’ve never thrown anyone a birthday party before and you’re making everything so easy.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to be in charge of this particular event?”
Harrison doubted London was the sort who liked to play games, so he decided to be straight with her. “I volunteered because I was interested in getting to know you better and a friend warned me that you wouldn’t be inclined to give me a shot.”
“Get to know me better?” She looked more curious than annoyed or pleased. “So you decided to hire me to plan your brother’s birthday party? You should know that I don’t date my clients.”
Despite her claim, he sensed she wasn’t shutting him down entirely. “You said you usually work with corporate clients. Maybe this would be an excellent opportunity to gain some exposure with Crosby Automotive. And I get a chance to work with a woman who intrigues me. A win-win solution all around.”
Interest colored her voice as she echoed, “A win-win solution...”
* * *
London’s pen flowed across the legal pad as she randomly sketched a centerpiece and pondered Harrison’s words.
When he’d called to set up this meeting, she’d been elated. Organizing his brother’s birthday party would solve the problem of how she could get close enough to Tristan to figure out how to bring him down. The more she learned about Zoe’s ex-husband, the more daunting her task. Frustration welled up in London as she considered the impulsive bargain she’d made several months earlier. What had she been thinking to agree to something that could lead to trouble for her in the future if she wasn’t careful? But how did she back out now that Everly and Zoe had their plans in motion?
“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Harrison asked.
The abruptness of his invitation combined with the uptick in her body’s awareness of him caught her off guard, and London was shocked and dismayed by the delight blooming in her.
“I...”
She’d been so focused on her goal of helping Zoe that she hadn’t considered the possibility of an interpersonal relationship between her and Harrison. Now, with his startling confession, the situation had grown complicated.
“Ever since meeting you at the party the other night, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he declared, his sea-toned eyes darkening as his voice took on a smoky quality. “You don’t date your clients, but there’s nothing that says you can’t. Let me take you to dinner.”
You made this devil’s bargain. Now see it through.
“Tomorrow would be better,” she responded a touch breathlessly.
“I’m heading to Richmond with the crew tomorrow. Tonight is all I have.”
She was on the verge of refusing when his smile faded. An intense light entered his eyes and London found it difficult to breathe. The man’s charisma was off the charts at the moment and London found herself basking in the glow of his admiration. At the same time she couldn’t help but wonder if he was sincere or merely plying her with flattery to get her into bed. Worse, she wasn’t sure she cared.
Maribelle’s words came back to haunt her. London could use a little fun in her life and rebound sex with Harrison Crosby might be what enabled her to move on from Linc. If only she wasn’t planning to use Harrison as part of their revenge plot.
“I don’t want to have to wait another week to spend an evening with you,” he continued as she grappled with her conscience.
“I’m flattered,” she said, stalling for time.
His lips kicked into a dry grin. “No, you’re not.”
Harrison wasn’t the sort of Southern gentleman she was used to. One she could wrap around her finger. He had a straightforward sex appeal that excited her and made her feel all needy and prone to acts of impulsiveness. The urge to grab his sweater and haul him over for a kiss shocked her.
“Really—” Her instincts screamed at her to retreat. Her susceptibility to this man could prove dangerous.
“You think I’m hitting on you because I want to sleep with every woman I meet.”
“I wouldn’t dream of thinking such a thing,” she murmured in her most guileless drawl as she glanced down at her legal pad and noticed she’d been drawing hearts. She quickly flipped to a clean page and set down her pen.
“Don’t go all Scarlett O’Hara on me,” Harrison replied. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I don’t see us ending up in bed, but I fully intend on making it about the journey and not the destination.”
Outrage poured through London, but there was a certain amount of amusement and curiosity mixed in, as well. Damn the man. His plain speaking was having the wrong sort of effect on her.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” she said. “What makes you think I’m interested in you that way?”
“The fact that you’re still here discussing it with me instead of kicking me to the curb.”
“Do you honestly think you’re the first client who has hit on me?”
“I’m sure I’m not.” He didn’t look at all concerned by her attitude. “But I’m guessing you’re going to give me a different answer than all the others.”
It pained her that he was right. Nor could she console herself with the falsehood that she would turn him down flat if it wasn’t for this pact she’d made with Zoe and Everly.
“I’ll have dinner with you tonight,” she said. “But I get to pick the place and I’ll meet you there.”
“And I promise to behave like a proper gentleman.”
She snorted. “There’s nothing proper or gentlemanly about you, I think.” A delicious shiver worked its way down her spine at the thought. “Do you agree to my conditions?”
“If they make you feel safe, then how can I not?”
His use of the word safe made her bristle. She hadn’t set conditions because of any nervousness she felt around him, but to make him understand that she wasn’t one of those women who flatter and swoon all in the hope of achieving that elusive five-carat sparkler for their left hand.
“How about we meet at The Front Porch at eight o’clock.”
“That’s perfect.”
She then steered the conversation back to the original reason for their meeting. “It would be a good idea if we could meet next week and check out a couple of the venues,” she told him, already having a pretty good idea of the sort of elegant evening she intended to organize.
“I’ll be back in town next Monday and Tuesday.”
She picked up her phone and pulled up her calendar. “I’m open Monday afternoon, say two o’clock? The faster we book a location, the sooner we can start working on the details. And I’ll pull some ideas together and send them along to you this week.”
“Sounds great.”
They’d arrived at an obvious end to their meeting and Harrison stood. As London escorted him to the front door, he asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to come watch me race in Richmond?”
London’s eyes flicked to her receptionist. Missy was paying rapt attention to their exchange without actually staring at them. Heat bloomed beneath London’s skin as she realized that word would soon spread about Harrison’s invitation.
“I don’t know...”
“You could bring your friend. Maribelle, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” To her dismay, London’s mood had dipped at the thought of sharing his attention. “I mean, yes, my friend is Maribelle. She’s a huge fan. Both her and her fiancé, Beau.”
“Bring them both along. I’ll get you seats in our suite.”
London considered how enthusiastic her friend had been after meeting Harrison. It surprised her that someone who had been trained from birth to epitomize a gracious Southern lady had an interest in such a loud and tedious sport. All the drivers did was go around and around in circles at high speeds for three hours. How could that possibly keep anyone interested?
“I’ll see if she’s busy and let you know.” The words were out before London could second-guess herself.
She needed access to Tristan, and Harrison was the perfect way in. From the way her pulse triggered every time he smiled at her, acting interested wouldn’t be a problem. She just needed to be careful that she kept her body’s impulses in check and her mind focused on the revenge bargain.
Harrison looked a little surprised that she’d changed her mind, but then a grin slowly formed on his face. “Great.”
“Wonderful,” she murmured, reaching out to shake his hand.
She’d begun the gesture as a professional event planner, but as his long fingers enveloped hers, a jolt of electricity surged up her arm. The raw, compelling reaction left London wobbly. She couldn’t let herself be distracted right now. Not when she had a mission and Harrison played an integral part in accomplishing it.
Capitalizing on his interest in her was one thing. Reciprocating the attraction would only lead to trouble.
“See you at eight.”
Aware that they were still holding hands, London pulled her fingers free. “Eight,” she echoed, glad Harrison had the sense not to gloat as she opened the front door and gestured him onto the sidewalk. “In the meantime, I’ll keep you informed as we confirm availability on the potential venues.”
After they said goodbye, she wasted no time watching him walk away, but immediately turned to her receptionist. Seeing that Missy was making a poor effort at busywork, London gathered herself to scold her and then realized if she’d been worried about the scene playing out in front of an audience, she should’ve taken him outside.
“Let me know what you hear from the venues,” she said, heading for her office.
With a whoosh of breath, she plunked down on her office chair and ignored the slight shake in her hands as she jiggled the mouse to deactivate her screensaver. However, as she struggled to refocus on what she’d been working on before Harrison had shown up, peeling her thoughts away from the handsome race-car driver proved challenging.
Unsure what to make of his confessed interest in her and invitation to dinner tonight, she contemplated her legal pad and the mixture of notes and doodles. No fewer than ten hearts lined the margins and swooped across the page. What had she been thinking?
London opened a file on her computer for the event and typed in her notes before tearing the page into tiny pieces.
Going forward she needed to take a firmer grip on her subconscious or heaven only knew what might happen.
Once her initial work on the fortieth birthday party was done, London dialed Maribelle to give her a heads-up about all that had transpired and to extend Harrison’s invitation to watch him race on Sunday.
“Beau will be thrilled,” Maribelle said. “Do you think Harrison can get us into the pit on race day?”
“Maybe. I can find out what that entails.” She traced her fingertips over the twenty-five she’d once again doodled on her legal pad. At least there were no hearts this time. “We’re having dinner tonight.”
Maribelle’s squeal forced London to pull the phone away from her ear. “See, I knew he was interested in you. Where are you going? Is he taking you somewhere romantic? Are you going to sleep with him? I would. I bet he’s great in bed. He’s so sexy with that dark hair and those blue-green eyes. And that body. I read that he’s in crazy great shape. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on him.”
Maribelle’s rapid-fire remarks left no room for London to speak. She really shouldn’t sleep with Harrison Crosby, but any argument about what a bad idea it was would fall on deaf ears.
“Need I remind you that you’re engaged? You better tone down your fan-girling,” London warned. “Beau might not appreciate you heaping praise on another man.”
“Don’t you worry. My Beau knows while my eyes might wander my heart never will.”
It was such a sweet and solemn declaration that London felt a flare of envy. Had she ever embraced that level of dedication to Linc? Not that she’d needed to. Once she’d settled on him as her future mate, she’d never looked at anyone else. And until the very end, she’d thought Linc felt the same. Her trust in him had never wavered despite all the women she knew must be throwing themselves at him while he was out of town during baseball season. She’d never imagined her competition would be someone so unassuming and close to home.
“You’re lucky to have each other,” London said and meant it.
“You’ll find someone,” Maribelle returned, her tone low and fierce. “And he will love you and make you feel safe.”
Again that word safe. And again, London flinched. She was a strong, capable woman who didn’t need a man to make her feel safe. Yet even as her thoughts trailed over this mantra, a tiny part of her clenched in hungry longing. What would it be like to be taken care of? Not physically or financially, but emotionally supported. To be part of a devoted team like Maribelle and Beau.
It was something she hadn’t known growing up. Her parents had burdened her with huge—if differing—expectations. Her father was an autocratic businessman who’d impressed upon her that absolute success was the only option. London had spent her childhood living in terror that she would be criticized for not achieving high enough marks. She’d undertaken a rigorous class schedule, participated in student government, women’s soccer and debate club, and couldn’t remember a time during her high school and college years when she wasn’t worn out or anxiety ridden.
Nor was her mother any less demanding. If her father expected her to succeed professionally, her mother had her sights set on London’s social achievements. To that end, there had been hours of volunteer work and social events her mother dragged her to. Becoming engaged to Linc had been a triumph. But even then it grew obvious that no matter how much London did, it was never enough.
“I just texted Beau,” Maribelle said. “He suggests we fly up on Saturday and back on Sunday. So we can see the practice rounds. Will that work for you? Usually you have parties on Saturday night, don’t you?”
As easy as it would be to use work as an excuse, she heard the excitement in her friend’s voice and sighed in surrender. “All we have is a small anniversary party and Annette is handling that.” To London’s surprise, she realized she was looking forward to getting out of town. She’d been working like a madwoman since Linc had ended their engagement. Keeping busy was the best way to avoid dwelling on her failed relationship. “And since Beau is flying us up, I’ll take care of the hotel rooms.”
“We should go shopping for something to wear. In fact, we should go shopping right now.”
London imagined her friend grabbing her purse and heading for her car. “What’s the hurry?”
“I need to make sure you wear something on your date tonight that doesn’t scream I’m not interested in getting laid.”
“I’m not,” London protested.
“Have you been with anyone since Linc?”
London winced. “You know I haven’t.”
“You need a rebound relationship. I think Harrison Crosby would be perfect.”
That Maribelle had echoed what London herself had been thinking less than an hour earlier didn’t surprise her. The two women had been friends so long they sometimes finished each other’s sentences.
“Why do you say that?” London asked.
“Because he’s the furthest thing from someone you’d ever settle down with, so that makes him a good bet for a casual fling.”
London was warming to the idea of a quick, steamy interlude with the sexy race-car driver. Still, she’d never slept with anyone she didn’t have feelings for. Yet with what she, Everly and Zoe were up to, maybe the fact that London wasn’t going to fall for the guy was a plus.
“You might be right.”
Maybe it would be okay to give sexual chemistry and a casual relationship a quick spin. They were both adults. What harm could it do?
