Читать книгу Substitute Seduction - Cat Schield - Страница 10
ОглавлениеThe party celebrating the ten-year anniversary of the Dixie Bass-Crosby Foundation was in full swing as Harrison Crosby strolled beneath the Baccarat crystal-and-brass chandelier hanging from the restored antebellum mansion’s fifteen-foot foyer ceiling. Snagging a glass of champagne from a circling waitress, Harrison passed from the broad foyer with its white marble floor and grand columns toward the ballroom, where a string quartet played in the corner.
Thirty years ago Harrison’s uncle Jack Crosby had purchased the historic Groves Plantation, located thirty-five miles outside the city of Charleston, intending to headquarter Crosby Motorsports on the hundred-acre property. At the time, the 1850s mansion had been in terrible shape and they’d been on the verge of knocking it down when both Virginia Lamb-Crosby and Dixie Bass-Crosby—Harrison’s mother and aunt respectively—had raised a ruckus. Instead the Crosby family had dumped a ton of money into the historic renovation to bring it up to code and make it livable. The result was a work of art.
Although Harrison had attended dozens of charity events supporting his family’s foundations over the years, the social whirl bored him. He’d much rather just donate the money and skip all the pomp and circumstance. Despite the Crosby wealth and the old family connections his aunt and mother could claim, Harrison had nothing in common with the Charleston elite and preferred his horsepower beneath the hood of his Ford rather than on the polo field.
Which was why he intended to greet his family, make as little small talk as he could and get the hell out. With only three races left in the season, Harrison needed to stay focused on preparations. And he needed as much mental and physical stamina as possible.
Spying his mother, Harrison made his way toward her. She was in conversation with a younger woman he didn’t recognize. As he drew near, Harrison recognized his mistake. His mother’s beautiful blonde companion wore no ring on her left hand. Whenever his mother encountered someone suitable, she always schemed to fix him up. She didn’t understand that his racing career took up all his time and energy. Or she did get it and hoped that a wife and family might persuade him to give it all up and settle down.
Harrison was on the verge of angling away when Virginia “Ginny” Lamb-Crosby noticed his approach and smiled triumphantly.
“Here’s my son,” she proclaimed, reaching with her left hand to draw Harrison in. “Sawyer, this is Harrison. Harrison, I’d like you to meet Sawyer Thurston.”
“Nice to meet you,” Harrison said, frowning as he tried to place her name. “Thurston...”
“Linc Thurston is my brother,” Sawyer clarified, obviously accustomed to explaining about her connection to the professional baseball player.
Harrison nodded. “Sure.”
Before he could say anything more, his mother reinserted herself into the conversation. “Sawyer is a member of Charleston’s Preservation Society and we were just talking about the historic home holiday tour. She wants to know if I’d be willing to open the Jonathan Booth House this year. What do you think?”
This was the exact sort of nonsense that he hated getting involved in. No matter what his or anyone else’s opinion, Ginny Lamb-Crosby would do exactly as she liked.
He leaned down to kiss her cheek and murmured, “I think you should ask Father since it’s his house, too.”
After a few more polite exchanges Harrison pretended to see someone he needed to talk to and excused himself. As he strolled around the ballroom, smiling and greeting those he knew, his gaze snagged on a beautiful woman in a gown of liquid sky. Her long honeyed hair hung in rolling waves over her shoulders with one side pulled back to show off her sparkly dangle earring. In a roomful of beautiful women, she stood out to him because rather than smiling and enjoying herself, the blonde with big eyes and pale pink lips wore a frown. She seemed to barely be listening to her chatty companion, a shorter, plump brunette of classic beauty and pouty lips.
She seemed preoccupied by... Harrison followed her gaze and realized she was staring at his brother, Tristan. This should have warned Harrison off. The last thing he wanted to do was to get tangled up with one of his brother’s castoffs. But the woman inspired more than just his curiosity. He had an immediate and intense urge to get her alone to see if her lips were as sweet as they looked, and that hadn’t happened in far too long.
Turning his back on the beauty, he headed to where his aunt was holding court on one side of the room near a large television playing a promotional video about the Dixie Bass-Crosby Foundation. In addition to helping families with sick children, the foundation supported K–12 education programs focused on literacy. Over the last ten years, his aunt had given away nearly ten million dollars and her family was very proud of her.
Yet even as Harrison exchanged a few words with his aunt, uncle and their group, his attention returned to the lovely blonde in the blue dress. The more he observed her, the more she appeared different from the ladies who normally appealed to him. Just as beautiful, but not a bubbly party girl. More reserved. Someone his mother would approve of.
The more he watched her, the more he labeled her as uptight. Not in a sexual way, like she wouldn’t know an orgasm if it reached out and slapped her, but in a manner that said her whole life was a straitjacket. If not for her preoccupation with Tristan, he might’ve turned away.
He simply had to find out who she was, so he went in search of his uncle. Bennett Lamb knew where all the bodies were buried and traded in gossip like other men bought and sold stock, real estate or collectibles.
Harrison found the Charleston icon holding court near the bar. In black pants and a cream honeycomb dinner jacket with a gold bow tie and pocket square, Bennett outshone many of the female guests in the fashion department.
“Do you have a second?” Harrison asked, glancing around to make sure his quarry hadn’t escaped.
One of Bennett’s well-groomed eyebrows went up. “Certainly.”
The two men moved off a couple of feet and Harrison indicated the woman who’d interested him. “Do you know who that is?”
Amusement dancing in his eyes, his uncle gazed in the direction Harrison indicated. “Maribelle Gates? She recently became engaged to Beau Shelton. Good family. Managed to hold on to their wealth despite some shockingly bad advice from Roland Barnes.”
Harrison silently cursed at the word engaged. Why was she so interested in Tristan if she was unavailable? Maybe she was cheating on her fiancé. Wary of letting his uncle think he’d shown an interest in someone who was engaged, he asked, “And the brunette?”
“Maribelle Gates is the brunette.” Bennett saw where his nephew was going and shook his head. “Oh, you were interested in the blonde. That’s London McCaffrey.”
“London.” He experimented with the taste of her name and liked it. “Why does her name ring a bell?”
“She was engaged to Linc Thurston for two years.”
“I just met his sister.” Harrison returned to studying London.
Meanwhile his uncle kept talking. “He recently broke off the engagement. No one knows why, but it’s rumored he’s been sleeping with...” Bennett’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “His housekeeper.”
An image of the heavyset fifty-year-old woman who maintained his parents’ house popped into Harrison’s mind and he grimaced. He pondered the willowy blonde and wondered what madness had gripped Linc to let her go.
“He doesn’t seem the type to go after his housekeeper.”
“You never know about some people.”
“So why is everyone convinced that he’s sleeping with her?”
“Convinced is a strong word,” his uncle said. “Let’s just say that there’s speculation along those lines. Linc hasn’t been out with anyone since he and London broke up. There’s been not a whisper of another romance on anyone’s radar. And, from what I hear, she’s a young widow with a toddler.”
Harrison shoved aside the gossip and refocused on the object of his interest. The more Bennett speculated about the reason Linc Thurston had for ending the engagement, the less he liked London’s interest in his brother. She deserved better. Tristan had always treated women poorly, as his recent behavior during his divorce from his wife of eight years demonstrated. Not only had Tristan cheated on her the entire time they were married, he’d hired a merciless divorce attorney, and Zoe had ended up with almost nothing.
“Now, if you’re looking for someone to date, I’d like to suggest...”
Harrison tuned out the rest of his uncle’s remarks as he continued to puzzle over London McCaffrey. “Is she seeing anyone at the moment?” Harrison asked, breaking into whatever it was his uncle was going on about.
“Ivy? I don’t believe so.”
“No,” Harrison said, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention to whatever pearls of wisdom his uncle had been shelling out. “London McCaffrey.”
“Stay away from that one,” Bennett warned. “That mother of hers is the worst. She’s a former New York socialite who thinks a lot of money—and I do mean a lot—can buy her way into Charleston inner circles. Honestly, the woman is a menace.”
“I’m not interested in dating the mother.”
“London is just as much a social climber,” Bennett said as if Harrison was an utter idiot not to make the connection. “Why else do you think she pursued Linc?”
“Obviously you don’t think she was in love with him,” Harrison retorted dryly.
He wasn’t a stranger to the elitist outlook held by the old guard of Charleston society. His own mother had disappointed her family by marrying a man from North Carolina with nothing but big dreams and ambition. Harrison hadn’t understood the complexities of his mother’s relationship with her family and, frankly, he’d never really cared. Ever since he could remember, all Harrison had ever wanted to do was to tinker with cars and drive fast.
His father and uncle had started out as mechanics before investing in their first auto parts store. Within five years the two men had parlayed their experience and drive into a nationwide chain. While Harrison’s dad, Robert “Bertie” Crosby, was happy to man the helm and expand the business, his brother, Jack, pursued his dream of running race cars.
By the time Harrison was old enough to drive, his uncle had built Crosby Motorsports into a winning team. And like the brothers before them, Tristan had gone into the family business, preferring to keep his hands clean, while Harrison loved every bit of oil and dirt that marked his skin.
“She pursued him,” Bennett pronounced, “because her children would be Thurstons.”
Harrison considered this. It was possible that she’d judged the guy by his social standing. On the other hand, maybe she’d been in love with Linc. Either way, Harrison wasn’t going to know for sure until he had a chance to get to know her.
“Why are you so interested in her?” Bennett asked, interrupting Harrison’s train of thought.
“I don’t know.”
He couldn’t explain to his uncle that London’s preoccupation with Tristan intrigued and worried him. For the last couple of years Harrison had increasing concerns about his brother’s systematically deteriorating marriage to Zoe. Still, he’d ignored the rumors of Tristan’s affairs even as Harrison recognized his brother had a dark side and a ruthless streak.
The fact that Zoe had vanished off his radar since she’d first separated from Tristan nagged at Harrison. In the beginning he hadn’t wanted to get involved in what had looked to become a nasty divorce. Lately he was wishing he’d been a better brother-in-law.
“Do you know what London does?” Harrison asked, returning his thoughts to the beautiful blonde.
Bennett sighed. “She owns an event planning service.”
“Did she plan this event?” An idea began to form in Harrison’s mind.
“No. Most of the work was done by Zoe before...” Not even Bennett was comfortable talking about his former niece-in-law.
“I think I’m going to introduce myself to London McCaffrey,” Harrison said.
“Just don’t be too surprised when she’s not interested in you.”
“I have a halfway-decent pedigree,” Harrison said with a wink.
“Halfway decent isn’t going to be enough for her.”
“You’re so cynical.” Harrison softened his statement with a half smile. “And I’m more than enough for her to handle.”
His uncle began to laugh. “No doubt you’re right. Just don’t be surprised when she turns you down flat.”
* * *
London McCaffrey stood beside her best friend, Maribelle Gates, her attention fixed on the tall, imposing man she’d promised to take down in the next few months. Zoe Crosby’s ex-husband was handsome enough, but his chilly gaze and the sardonic twist to his lips made London shiver. From the research London had done on him these last couple of weeks, she knew he’d ruthlessly gone after his wife, leaving her with nothing to show for her eight-year marriage.
In addition to cheating on Zoe through most of their marriage, Tristan Crosby had manufactured evidence that she was the one who’d been unfaithful and violated their prenuptial agreement. Zoe had been forced to spend tens of thousands of dollars disproving this, which had eaten into her divorce settlement. A settlement based on financial information about her husband’s wealth that indicated he was heavily mortgaged and deeply in debt.
Zoe’s lawyer suspected that Tristan had created offshore shell companies that allowed him to hide money and avoid paying taxes. It wasn’t unusual or illegal, but it was a hard paper trail to find.
“Heavens, that man cleans up well,” Maribelle remarked, her voice breathy and impressed. “And he’s been staring this way practically since he arrived.” She nudged London. “Wouldn’t it be great if he’s interested in you?”
With an exasperated sigh, London turned to her friend and was about to reiterate that the last thing on her mind was romance when she recognized the man in question. Harrison Crosby, Tristan’s younger brother.
A racing-circuit fan favorite thanks to his long, lean body and handsome face, Harrison was, to her mind, little more than a glorified frat boy. Zoe had explained that her ex-brother-in-law liked fast cars, pretty women and the sorts of activities that red-blooded American males went for in the South.
“He’s not my type,” London told her best friend, returning her focus to her target.
“Sweetie, I love you,” Maribelle began, settling further into her native South Carolina drawl, “but you have to stop being so picky.”
Resentment rose in London but she studiously avoided showing it. Since the first time her mother had slapped her face for making a fuss during her sixth birthday party, London had decided if she was going to survive in the McCaffrey household, she’d better learn to conceal her emotions. It wasn’t always easy, but now, at twenty-eight, she was nearly impossible to read.
“I’m not being picky. I’m simply being realistic.” And since he wasn’t the Crosby brother she was targeting, he wasn’t worth her time.
“That’s your problem,” Maribelle complained. “You’re always realistic. Why don’t you let loose and have some fun?”
Out of kindness or sympathy for her longtime friend, Maribelle didn’t mention London’s latest failure to climb the Charleston social ladder. She’d heard more than enough on that score from her mother. When London had begun to date someone from one of Charleston’s oldest families, her mother had perceived this as the social win she’d been looking for since the New York socialite had married restaurant CEO Boyd McCaffrey and moved to Connecticut, leaving her beloved New York City behind. And then, when London’s father had been accepted for a better position and moved his family to Charleston, Edie Fremont-McCaffrey’s situation grew so much worse.
When she’d first arrived, Edie had assumed that her New York connections, wealth and style would guarantee Charleston’s finest would throw open their doors for her. Instead she’d discovered that family and ancestral connections mattered more here than something as vulgar as money.
“It’s not that I don’t want to have fun,” London began. “I just don’t know that I want to have Harrison Crosby’s sort of fun.”
Well, didn’t that make her sound like the sort of dull prig who’d let the handsome and wealthy Linc Thurston slip through her fingers? London’s heart contracted. Although she no longer believed herself in love with Linc, at one point she’d been ready to marry him. But would she have? London wasn’t entirely clear where their relationship would be if he hadn’t broken things off.
“How do you know what sort of fun Harrison Crosby likes?” Maribelle asked, bringing London back to the present.
She bit her lip, unable to explain why she’d been researching the Crosby family, looking for an in. There were only three people who knew of their rash plan to take revenge on the men who’d wronged them. What London, Everly and Zoe were doing might not necessarily be illegal, but if they were discovered, retribution could be fierce and damaging.
“He’s a race-car driver.” As if that explained everything.
“And he’s gorgeous.”
“Is he?”
London considered all the photos she’d seen of him. Curly black hair, unshaved cheeks, wearing jeans and a T-shirt or his blue racing suit with sponsor patches plastered head to toe, he had an engaging smile and an easy confidence that proclaimed he had the world on a string.
“I guess if you like them scruffy and rough,” London muttered. Which she didn’t.
“He looks pretty suave and elegant to me.”
Maribelle’s wry tone spiked London’s curiosity and she carefully let her gaze drift in his direction. Not wanting the man to think she was at all interested in him, she didn’t look directly at him as she took in his appearance.
The Harrison Crosby she’d been picturing looked nothing like the refined gentleman in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit that drew attention to his strong shoulders and narrow hips. Her hormones reacted with shocking intensity to his stylish appearance. He was clean-shaved tonight, appearing elegant enough to have stepped off a New York runway. Where she’d been able to dismiss the “rough around the edges good ol’ boy” in racing attire, London saw she’d miscalculated the appeal of a confident male at the top of his game.
“Apparently he cleans up well,” London remarked grudgingly, her gaze moving on before she could get caught staring.
“He’s coming this way,” Maribelle squeaked.
London’s pulse revved like an engine as she took in his elegant appearance. “Get a hold of yourself,” she murmured in exasperation, unsure if she was speaking to herself or Maribelle.
“Good evening, ladies.” His voice had a deep, rich tone like the rumble of a cat’s purr. “I’m Harrison Crosby. Dixie Bass-Crosby is my aunt.”
“Number twenty-five,” Maribelle responded in a surprisingly girlish tone that caused London to gape. “You’re having a great second half this year. I’m Maribelle Gates.”
A sexy half grin kicked up one corner of his mouth. “You follow racing?” he asked, echoing the question in London’s head.
While his sea-glass eyes remained focused on Maribelle, London stared at him in consternation. Her body was reacting to his proximity in confusing ways.
“I do,” Maribelle confirmed. “So does my fiancé. We’re huge fans.”
As her best friend displayed a surprising amount of knowledge about race-car driving, London began to feel like a third wheel. While the two girls had been best friends since their first day of the exclusive private girls’ school they’d attended, certain differences had always existed between them.
Both were from wealthy families, but Maribelle’s had the sort of social standing that had allowed her access to the inner circles that had eluded London and her family. And while each woman was beautiful, Maribelle had always fought with her weight and this had led to her feeling less secure about her appearance. But the biggest difference was that for all her lack of social standing, London had always been the more popular of the two.
Until now.
“Oh,” Maribelle exclaimed, glancing toward her friend as if suddenly realizing they’d excluded London. “How rude of me to monopolize you. This is London McCaffrey.”
“Nice to meet you,” London said. Yet as miffed as she was at his earlier lack of interest, she wasn’t sure she meant it.
“Nice to meet you, as well.” Harrison’s gaze flicked from one woman to the other. “Now, it seems as if you know all about me. What is it you ladies do?”
“I’m planning a wedding,” Maribelle said with a silly little giggle that left London struggling not to roll her eyes.
Harrison’s sculpted lips shifted into an indulgent smile. “I imagine that’s a full-time job.”
London bit the inside of her lip to keep from snorting in derision. “I own an event planning company,” she said a trifle too aggressively. Hearing her tone brought a rush of heat to London’s cheeks. Was she seriously trying to compete with her engaged friend for a man she wasn’t even interested in?
“Are you planning her wedding?”
London shot her friend a glance as she shook her head. “No.”
“Not your thing?” he guessed, demonstrating an ability to read the subtle currents beneath her answer.
“She mostly organizes corporate and charity events,” Maribelle responded with a sweet smile that stabbed at London’s heart.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Harrison said, the impact of his full attention making London’s palms tingle. “My brother’s turning forty next month and I was going to plan a party for him. Only I don’t know anything about that sort of thing. I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out?”
“I...” Her first impulse was to refuse, but she’d been looking for an opening that would get her into Tristan’s orbit. Planning his birthday party would be an excellent step in that direction. “Don’t usually do personal events, but I would be happy to meet with you and talk about it.”
She pulled a business card out of her clutch and handed it to him.
He glanced at the card. “‘London McCaffrey. Owner of ExcelEvent.’ I’ll be in touch.” Then, with a charming smile, he said, “Nice meeting you both.”
London’s eyes remained glued to his retreating figure for several seconds. When she returned her focus to Maribelle, her friend was actively smirking.
“What?”
“See? I told you. What you need is a little fun.”
“It’s a job,” London said, emphasizing each word so Maribelle wouldn’t misinterpret the encounter. “He’s looking for someone to organize his brother’s birthday party. That’s why I gave him my card.”
“Sure.” Maribelle’s hazel eyes danced. “Whatever you say. But I think what you need is someone to take your mind off what happened between you and Linc, and in my not-so-humble opinion, that—” she pointed at the departing figure “—is the perfect man for the job.”
Everything London had read about him stated that he liked to play hard and that his longest relationship to date had lasted just over a year. She’d decided her next romance would be with a man with a serious career. Someone she’d have lots in common with.
“Why do you think that?” London asked, unable to understand her friend’s logic. “As far as I can tell, he’s just like Linc. An athlete with an endless supply of eager women at his beck and call.”
“Maybe he’s just looking for the right woman to settle down with,” Maribelle countered. She’d been singing a different tune about men and romance since she’d started dating Beau Shelton. “Can’t you at least give the guy a chance?”
London sighed. She and Maribelle had had this conversation any number of times over the last few months as her friend had tried to set her up with one or another of Beau’s friends. Maybe if she said yes Maribelle would back off.
“I’m really not ready to date anyone.”
“Don’t think of it as dating,” Maribelle said. “Just think of it as hanging out.”
Since London was already thinking in terms of how she could use Harrison to get to Tristan, it was an easy enough promise to make. “If it means you’ll stop bugging me,” she said, hiding her sudden satisfaction at killing two birds with one stone, “I’ll agree to give Harrison Crosby one chance.”
