by Kara Isaac
She laughed. “No. I don’t do schmoozing parties. They’re Lacey’s domain. But I’ll be around on Tuesday.”
Well, there went that idea. “Guess I’ll see you then. ’Night, Rach. Safe travels.”
“ ’Night, Lucas.” The smile in her voice almost made him forget all about the resurrection of his long-lost drop-kick father and that he was trying to uncover dirt on her boss. Almost.
- 16 -
Brad’s headquarters turned out to be housed in a gleaming silver skyscraper, with a foyer that rose for stories, uncomfortable designer couches dotted around the lobby. Everyone here looked like they’d stepped out of a catalog shoot.
Whisked up in a hushed elevator, Lucas stepped out into a plush reception area with floor-to-ceiling windows. The wall behind the front desk was emblazoned with Shipman Productions in curved letters.
His driver had waved him good-bye in the basement parking lot, promising his duffel would meet him at his hotel.
And here he was.
A door opened to the left of the receptionist and another woman entered. Perfectly tousled hair, skintight jeans, polished boots, trendy white T-shirt hanging off a coat-hanger body. She screamed money and success from every angle.
“Lucas!” She walked toward him, hand outstretched. “Hi, I’m Shawna, one of Brad’s producers. He’s in meetings at the moment but has asked me to show you around.” She smiled, but the rest of her face didn’t move with it. Who decided a plastic mask was something to aspire to? At least she had a good, firm grip.
“Hi. Thanks for having me.”
“Oh, it’s our pleasure. We were so excited when Brad told us you were thinking about coming to join the team. We’re all big fans.” She gestured him through the door and into a long, curved hallway. “We’re just down here.” Opening a door to the right, she stood back so he could walk through.
The view was so incredible, he stopped dead in his tracks. LA spread out before him, from glittering buildings all the way to the glistening ocean in the distance.
“Pretty amazing, huh?” A petite woman with copper hair and freckles stood beside him.
“Yeah.” He looked around the conference room. About twenty people stood chatting, and there was a large buffet spread out in the middle.
“I’m Naomi. Casting.”
“I’m Lucas.”
She laughed. “I know. You’re the one we’re all here to meet. Your mug shot has been well circulated.”
“Oh.” He grasped for something to say, and saw out of the corner of his eye that Shawna was still in the doorway, talking to someone outside. “So, um, who are all these people?”
“Oh, you know, the usual.” She waved a hand, bracelets clanging on her wrist. “Casting, production, advertising, PR, researchers.”
“And they all work on the shows?”
“Well, we rotate a bit, but this is pretty much the team for a slot.”
“For one slot.” Lucas looked around and tried to absorb what she was saying. What did they need so many people for? It was call-in. People called. Ethan answered the phones and cued the ads and Lucas talked to them. It wasn’t exactly rocket science.
He turned back to Naomi, who was still talking. “Though Jack over there”—she gestured toward a clean-cut guy who looked to be in his thirties—“he’s just had a baby, so is about to swap to a daytime show.”
“Fair enough; I wouldn’t want to do night shift with a new baby either. No doubt his wife will be relieved.”
“His partner. Geoff. They had a surrogate. One of their friends donated the egg. Actually, maybe that was Matt and Leo. Maybe Geoff and Jack bought one. Not sure who’s the biological father, though. They just mixed all the swimmers up and let nature take its course.”
Let nature take its course? Lucas pressed his lips shut. No point marking himself as a bigoted redneck before he’d barely gotten into the building. Not that he was one, but clearly what was unremarkable in LA differed from Wisconsin.
“Lucas.” Shawna touched him on the elbow. “Come and grab a sandwich and meet some of your team.”
Two hours later his head was spinning. There were too many blurred faces and he was on information overload. The biggest shock had been discovering what casting was. Apparently in LA, people didn’t just get to call in. No, they had to audition to be a caller. Audition. To talk about Saturday night’s game? Straightaway, there were three people who wouldn’t have a job on his show.
His fingers tiptoed along a state-of-the-art production desk. Ethan would have laid himself across it and wept in adoration if he’d found himself in its presence. It was wasted here. It should have been in a recording studio somewhere, mixing a Grammy-winning album.
“How’s it going?” Shawna appeared beside him, a little too close for his liking. A pattern that had emerged over the afternoon. He glanced at her. Hair still perfect, lips glistening like they’d recently been retouched. She was attractive in a fashion-magazine kind of way, he guessed, but he preferred women who looked a little less Photoshopped.
But then every woman he’d met that afternoon looked like a version of the same. Slim, toned, tanned figures. Perfect hair of varying hues. Flawless makeup. Trendy clothes that looked like something out of a magazine spread. It was wearying being around so much perfection.
“Lucas? Are you there?” Shawna seemed to take his slow response as some kind of invitation and took a step closer.
“Sorry. It’s been good. Thanks for showing me around. It’s been great meeting everyone.”
Shawna leaned in and bit her bottom lip in a way that he was pretty sure was meant to be alluring but came across as contrived. She tilted her head up at him with big eyes, and he had the distinct sense he was in some kind of scene from a daytime soap. “I could show you around some more if you like. Give you the more private tour.” She ran her hand up his chest and Lucas froze. He’d been propositioned before, but it had been a long time since it was this shameless.
He had never understood the appeal of having sex with random strangers. And the idea of doing it in some closet somewhere in a populated high-rise on a Monday afternoon made his skin crawl.
“It’s been a long day. I think I’m just going to head back to my hotel so I can relax before tonight. Alone.” He added the last word just in case Shawna thought it was some kind of invitation.
She stepped back, and something that looked disconcertingly like relief flickered in her eyes. “Okay, well, your driver is downstairs, so you can head to your hotel anytime. Brad’s still in his meetings, but says he might see you tonight at the Feelings and Football gala.”
“The gala?” His insides twisted with panic at the idea of Brad coming onto Donna’s territory.
Shawna flicked her hand. “He also said your date is going to meet you there at eight.”
“My date?” Um, no, he had definitely not signed up for one of those. “Look, I’ll be fine. I don’t need a date.”
She cast him what appeared to be the first genuine smile of the afternoon. Her eyes even threatened at a hint of pity. “Just roll with it. Trust me, it’ll be easier.”
- 17 -
What was she doing? Rachel reached one end of the hotel room, then pivoted back around. Bed, TV, bathroom, and turn. She pushed a couple of fingers to each temple and gave them a rub.
She did not play dress-up. Ever. That was the deal she had with her aunt. This schmoozing literary-gala stuff was Lacey’s job, with her thigh-high slits, long legs, and easy laugh that made every male book buyer in the room place orders for thousands of whatever she was promoting on the spot.
Yet here she was. Sausaged into some ritzy cocktail dress that Lacey had magicked up from nowhere and levered her into. Her feet already hurt from her toes being scrunched up like discarded Kleenex into shoes half a size too small.
Rachel glanced down at the deep red dress. Red. It made the colorful clothes Donna gave her look tame in comparison. Not only was she jammed into the most attention-getting color of all, but the V-shap
ed neckline had somehow created cleavage that she’d never before possessed. It was like two strangers had suddenly attached themselves to her chest. She couldn’t stop staring. And no doubt once most of the middle-aged men had bottomed a few drinks she wouldn’t be the only one. At least that would be a new experience. No one had ever talked to her cleavage before.
Rachel tugged the bodice up. She could not see Lucas tonight looking like this. They hadn’t spoken since she’d called to thank him for the ribs, but their good-byes had had her stomach twisted like a pretzel for the last two days. The only thing more terrifying than wanting a man to look at her twice was the thought that he might think she was dressed like this so he did.
A knock on the door. Rachel peered through the peephole and found Lacey on the other side. She slipped the dead bolt, opened the door, and stepped back. Lacey walked in, clad in a black backless number that swept to the floor, her hair in some kind of fancy braided updo. Half the guys in the room would probably get whiplash when she walked in. “You look great.”
“Thanks.” Lacey chucked her clutch on Rachel’s bed and turned around. “So do you. I knew that dress would be perfect. Is Donna ready? I’ve just been downstairs and everything looks perfect.”
“She texted a few minutes ago and said she would be ready in ten.”
“Good. We probably don’t want to arrive before eight thirty anyway. Make sure there are plenty of people already there when she walks in. Have you heard from Lucas?”
“No. He said he had some other plans this morning. But I asked downstairs and he’s checked in, so he’s around.” Rachel tried to sound calm and unconcerned as she said it. Like he was just another person on her list to keep tabs on.
Lacey gave her a look that said she wasn’t fooling her, but let it go. “Anna said you dropped by last weekend. She was really glad to see you.”
Rachel shrugged. “It was the least I could do. Like you said. She needs friends right now.”
Lacey sighed. “I wish I could have gotten there, but my schedule is just crazy at the moment and there are rumors of a partnership spot opening up.”
“It’s okay. She’s got lots of people with her. And we’ll be in Denver in a couple of weeks. Hopefully—” Rachel caught herself before she could say the words. She was no doctor, but even she knew that the longer Cam remained in a coma, the worse his outlook was.
“He doesn’t die before then. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it.” Lacey lifted her hand as if to run it through her hair and then stopped. Probably remembering her fancy updo.
“It’s not good, Lace. He hasn’t made any real progress in weeks.”
“I know . . .” A breath whooshed out of Lacey. “It’s just Anna, you know. And Libby. Her husband can’t die. It just wouldn’t be right.”
Rachel put a hand on Lacey’s arm as her lip wobbled. “I know. But that’s not how life works sometimes.”
Lacey pressed her lips together and then shoved her shoulders back. “Anyway, how are you feeling about seeing Lucas?”
“Fine. He’ll be busy working the room. I doubt we’ll really speak.” Especially since she planned to sneak back to her room at the earliest possible opportunity.
“You ready?” Donna’s head poked through their adjoining door. Her eyes widened, then a very unladylike whistle split the room and the grim atmosphere. “Look at you. Hotter than a fried lizard on an Arizona highway.”
Whatever. Rachel tugged at her full skirt. It was knee-length, practically a maxi compared to some of the skirt lengths that some women would be flaunting tonight, but combined with the lower-than-normal neckline she felt completely exposed.
“Now you stop that. If God meant you to be all covered up, he wouldn’t have given you legs like that.” Donna’s bosom entered the room, followed by the rest of her. “Now where’s your purse?”
Rachel gestured toward the bed, where a sparkly black clutch lay. “There.”
Before Rachel could stop her, Donna had emptied it out over the bed and palmed her room key.
“Hey!”
“Nuh-uh-uh. No sneaking back to your room after ten minutes tonight, Little Miss Antisocial. You can have it back after two hours.”
Two hours? Two hours was . . . Her gaze landed on her phone. Scrabble, Angry Birds, Risk—all she needed was to find a quiet bathroom. Not ideal, but far superior to death by a thousand mindless conversations. Or worse, standing alone trying not to look like a social outcast.
Donna, Lucas, and Lacey would be busy working the room. She wouldn’t be getting any help from them.
Her aunt’s talons ripped the phone from her sight. “And I’ll take that, too.”
Rachel’s mouth wasn’t working. Wasn’t opening to voice her protests. She watched mutely as her phone accompanied her room card into her aunt’s bag.
“Enough is enough, Rachel. You’re thirty-one years old. Soon enough this charade will be over and you won’t have your guilty conscience to hide behind anymore. Or a job as Dr. Donna’s assistant. It’s time to start getting used to the real world. And that, my dear, includes mingling with the masses. Now, let’s go.”
• • •
LUCAS STRODE into the room. And hid behind a large potted plant. His fingers tugged at his collar. He hated schmoozy parties. Even when they were supposedly half his.
The Feelings and Football Benefit Gala. The funds raised would be equally split between his and Donna’s chosen charities, Kids in the Game and Books for Kids. For their sake, he would work the room like a pro and charm the checkbooks open.
In a few minutes.
Once he’d had a chance to get the lay of the land and dodge his d—
“There you are.” The young blonde Brad had sicced on him for the evening wound her claws around his elbow.
He racked his brain for her name. Whitney? Stephanie? Melanie? Some well-connected mid-list romance author to introduce him around in exchange for some free promo for her latest book on one of Brad’s stations. She’d leeched onto his arm as soon as they’d met and made it clear she would be happy to extend the arrangement to something of a more personal nature.
“Woo-hoooo! Justin, Lisa!” Her skinny, glittering wrist shot up, waving madly at a middle-aged couple a few feet away.
The woman turned their way. “Seonie!”
Seonie? Since when was that even a name? What ever happened to good old Sarah, or Katie, or—Rachel. His breath stalled. He’d only glimpsed the woman in a red dress for a split second in a gap in the crowd, but the profile . . . He shook his head. Wishful thinking. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to be here tonight.
A tug by the terrier on his arm dragged his gaze downward. “Lisa Harvey, meet Lucas Grant. Lisa is in marketing at SouthSide House; Lucas is a radio host who Brad has his eye on.”
Lisa’s green eyes widened. “Well, Lucas, any friend of Brad’s is a friend of mine.”
“Thanks.” He was being rude, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from roving, trying to find the woman in the red dress again. What if Lacey was sick? Or Donna needed some help with something? It wasn’t unthinkable that Rachel could be here.
He grasped for an excuse, any reason to dive into the crowd. “Can I get you ladies a drink?”
Lisa tilted her half-full glass. “I’m fine.”
“Such a gentleman. I’ll have a chardonnay, please,” Seonie purred. Bad luck for her he couldn’t stand cats. “Let me come with you.”
“No, no, you stay and catch up with Lisa. No point two of us trying to part the Red Sea.”
A pout. “Well then, hurry back.”
No chance of that.
“Lucas, there you are.” Lacey shouldered her way into the circle in a way that was somehow assertive without being rude.
“Lacey, this is Seonie, Justin, and Lisa.” Lucas gestured around the circle. “Lacey is Dr. Donna’s publicist.”
Lisa nodded. “We’ve met in passing. Lisa Harvey. I’m in marketing at SouthSide House.”
&n
bsp; “Lacey O’Connor with Langham and Co.? I’ve been a big fan of your work with Bella Kingsley. And that campaign that you did for Kate McKenzie’s last release was just inspired.” Seonie sounded like a teenage groupie.
“Thank you.” Lacey gave a polite smile. “Lucas—”
“Sorry.” Seonie clearly wasn’t. “I’m Seonie Rush. I’m an author with Watts Ryan. Would it be possible to pick your brain for—”
Something in Lacey’s expression flickered, and she gave Seonie a look that was a combination of impatience and dismissal. “I’m sorry to be rude, but I’m working this evening and I really need to speak to Lucas for a few minutes. I’m sure you understand that when I’m on the clock I need to be dedicated to my client.”
“How about a drink after? I just have a couple of questions. It would only be a few minutes of your time to help out a fellow book lover.” Lucas winced as Seonie’s tone turned petulant, and Lisa and Justin both took subtle steps back as if to distance themselves.
Lacey’s expression turned icy. “Unfortunately, giving away advice to fellow book lovers doesn’t pay my mortgage, but if you’d like to work with Langham and Co., please feel free to contact the office and one of the associates will be more than happy to talk to you about our publicity packages. Now, I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse us I really do need a few minutes with Lucas.”
“Excuse me, everyone.” Lucas stepped out of the circle and followed Lacey’s black dress as she cut a path through the crowd, checking over her shoulder once to make sure he was following.
“Please tell me that woman is not your date.” Lacey’s brows puckered as she interrogated him with her eyes.
“I kind of got stuck with her unexpectedly. A favor for an acquaintance.”
Lacey flicked open the black folio he hadn’t even noticed she’d been holding. She looked down at the run sheet and sighed, and then looked up at him. “Here’s a piece of free advice for you, Lucas. Choose carefully. Both your acquaintances and the favors you give them.”
Lucas bristled at her condescension. “I’m not some naïve hick guy from Nowheresville. Believe it or not, I am actually a pretty good reader of people. And I’ve met a few Seonies in my time. I am capable of working out how to handle them.”