by Metsy Hingle
Justin.
She pressed a palm to her belly to quell the flurry of butterflies set off by thoughts of seeing him tonight. Studying her reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t help wonder what he would think when he saw her. Would he think she looked pretty or…?
What on earth was she doing?
Furious with herself for indulging in foolish fantasies, Kim reminded herself that fancy clothes couldn’t change who or what she was. It certainly wouldn’t alter the way Justin thought of her. She was his dependable, boring assistant, and nothing more. Any notions that Justin might see her in any other light had surely been dispelled that last evening they were alone at the office together, hadn’t it?
Shame heated her cheeks as she recalled how she’d gotten the insane idea in her head that Justin was going to kiss her that night. Well, he hadn’t, she recalled and felt another sharp jolt of embarrassment. Irritated that the memory of Justin’s rejection could still rattle her so, she gave herself a mental shake. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she should be grateful that Justin hadn’t known what she’d been thinking, what she’d been wanting him to do. Another shudder went through her at the idea. It was bad enough that she’d allowed herself to fall in love with Justin Connelly. The only thing worse would be her humiliation if he had discovered that fact. Had he done so, she would never have been able to face him again. Which meant she would have no choice but to resign her position at Connelly Corporation.
Drawing in a calming breath, Kim told herself it was better this way. It was past time that she put to rest the ridiculous idea of a relationship between her and Justin. To do otherwise would surely lead to disaster. She needed only to look at all the heartache her own mother had endured by clinging to such foolish romantic notions. As always was the case when she thought of her mother, Kim felt the pang of loss anew. Despite the fact that she’d often felt their roles had been reversed and that she had assumed the parental responsibility, she still missed her mother terribly. She could only pray that at long last Amanda Lindgren had found the fairy-tale ending that had eluded her in life.
Thank heavens she had been born with a healthy dose of pragmatism, Kim told herself. This was the real world—not some fairy tale. Handsome, multimillionaires like Justin Connelly simply didn’t fall in love with their assistants. They fell in love with beautiful models or wealthy debutantes or chic businesswomen who belonged to country clubs and moved in the same social circles. No, when a man like Justin fell in love, it would be with a woman who could trace her ancestors back to the Mayflower or who had a royal bloodline like his. Not with the illegitimate daughter of a pretty but flighty file clerk who’d become pregnant before discovering the man who’d professed his love was already married to someone else.
Kim had long since come to terms with who she was, and would be forever thankful that she’d had a mother who’d truly loved and wanted her. While her mother’s romantic disasters might have been despairing to watch, it had grounded her and made her all the more determined not to delude herself. She was quiet, reliable Kim Lindgren—not at all the type of woman who would appeal to the likes of Justin Connelly.
Yet as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Kim found it difficult to reconcile the woman she saw there with the shy woman inside her. The woman in the elegant evening gown didn’t resemble mousy Kim at all. She looked as if she actually belonged in Justin’s world.
Realizing what she was doing, Kim put a halt to her ridiculous musings and blamed her errant thoughts on the dress. But as she subjected herself to another critical once-over, she frowned. It wasn’t just the dress. It was the hair, Kim determined as she eyed the sweep of blond tresses that fell down around her shoulders. Wearing her hair down to cover her bare shoulders had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now she wondered if it had been a mistake. It made her look…sensual, almost sexy.
Which just went to show how deceiving appearances could be, Kim mused. She was practical and level-headed Kim Lindgren, not some sexy femme fatale. And there was no point in sending out false signals. Walking over to the vanity table, she dug out her hairpins and reached for the brush, intent on redoing her hair in its customary twist. But before she’d had time to do more than gather the hair into her fist, the doorbell sounded.
The driver Tara had insisted on sending for her, Kim surmised. The last thing she wanted to do was keep the man or Tara waiting for her. Sighing, she released the rope of blond hair from her fist, and it tumbled back down about her shoulders. The hair would just have to do as it was, she decided. Snatching up her evening bag, she headed for the door.
“Good evening, Miss Lindgren. My name is James.”
“Good evening, James.”
She allowed the driver to escort her from her apartment building to the sleek, black limousine parked out front. After opening the car door, he took her arm gently and assisted her inside.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and slipped inside the vehicle. Despite the fact that she’d worked for the Connellys for two years, she still found herself in awe of the amenities their wealth provided. The dark leather seats looked butter soft. Unable to resist, she swept her gloved fingers along the smooth surface as her gaze flitted over the plush carpeting and tinted windows. There was enough room inside for at least ten people, Kim thought. Amused and delighted, she settled against the cushiony backrest and reached for her seat belt.
Having already resumed his position behind the wheel, James turned to address her. “We should arrive at the hotel in approximately twenty minutes, Miss Lindgren. Mrs. Paige instructed me to tell you to sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. Should you care for a cocktail or something to drink while we’re en route to the hotel, you’ll find a fully stocked bar to your left.”
“Thank you. But I’m fine,” Kim told him as she noted the built-in bar he had indicated.
“Very well, ma’am. I’ll be closing the privacy window, but if you should need me for anything or have any questions, just press the call button next to your seat.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that, if I need anything.”
James nodded. Within seconds the glass partition separating them slid shut, and moments later the car slipped out into the Friday evening traffic.
From the back of the limousine Kim stared out at the familiar streets and landmarks. But as she watched the city of Chicago transform beneath the shimmer of stars and the glow of the streetlights, Kim could feel the anticipation dancing in her own veins. And if she didn’t chill out, she was going to burn out like a shooting star before she ever got to the hotel.
Taking a deep breath she pressed a hand to her midsection in an effort to quell the nerves that were playing havoc with her stomach. It didn’t help. Nothing did, she admitted. She simply found it impossible to relax.
But then, who could blame her? Here she was, sitting in the back of a limousine, dressed to the nines and on her way to a black-tie fund-raiser as Tara Connelly Paige’s guest.
She might as well enjoy it while she could, Kim decided, since this would probably be her first and last ride in a limo. Oddly enough, that realization and the decision to enjoy herself seemed to settle her nerves somewhat. She was just beginning to relax when the phone rang and she tensed up all over again.
“It’s for you, miss,” James informed her seconds later as he lowered the privacy panel. His eyes met hers briefly in the rearview mirror. “There’s a receiver in the panel directly in front of you.”
“Thank you,” Kim murmured and reached for the phone. “Hello?”
“Kim, it’s Tara. What a relief. I had visions of you changing your mind and canceling on me tonight.”
“Well, I did think about it,” Kim admitted. In fact, she’d considered begging off several times during the past few days. But then she’d spied the evening gown in a store window yesterday, and when she’d gone inside the boutique and discovered it was her size and on sale to boot, she’d taken it as a sign.
“I’m certainly glad you didn�
�t,” Tara told her, and proceeded to recount for Kim the maddening day she’d had. “As if the problems with the centerpiece weren’t enough to deal with, one of our bachelors managed to break his leg while skydiving and wanted to bow out of the auction. Fortunately, Jennifer and I were able to convince him that parading around in a cast would drive up his bidding price.”
“And I take it he believed you?”
“Of course,” Tara told her with the assurance of a woman who had never accepted the word no from anyone.
“Sounds like you’ve had quite a day.”
“I have. That’s why the thought of you canceling on me tonight would have been one problem I simply couldn’t have handled.”
Surprised, Kim said, “Thanks. But I hardly think one empty seat at a table would make a big difference.”
“Actually, it would, since you’ll be doing a bit more than just filling a seat.”
Kim drew her brows together. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s nothing much really,” Tara said breezily. “I just need you to do me a little favor, to sort of help out with the auction.”
“Help out how?” Kim asked, suddenly uneasy.
“Like I said, it’s just a little favor, and it’ll keep Justin from wringing my neck. But it’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll explain it all to you when you get here.”
Warning bells went off. “Tara, about this favor—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll explain it all to you later.”
“But—”
“Oops, got to run,” Tara said. “See you in a little bit.”
“Tara, wait—”
But it was too late. The dial tone was already buzzing in her ear. And as she hung up the phone, Kim realized her nervous excitement had been replaced by a new emotion—worry.
Four
“Your tuxedo and shoes are in the back seat, Mr. Connelly.”
“Thanks, Hal,” Justin told the stoic-looking driver who’d met him at O’Hare Airport moments earlier. He reached inside and grabbed the garment bag, intent on changing in the airport men’s room.
Hal cleared his throat. “If you’ll pardon me, sir. Miss Tara suggested that it might save time if you were to change clothes in the limo while we’re en route to the hotel.”
“In other words, my sister told you to make sure I don’t leave your sight until you deliver me to her cattle auction.”
“Not at all, sir,” Hal said formally, standing beside the sleek black limo. “Miss Tara merely said I should make the suggestion.”
“If you say so,” Justin replied, and climbed into the back of the limo. Even as he stripped off his tie and ditched his suit coat, the car pulled away from the curb. Knowing his sister as he did, Justin had no doubt that Tara had batted her violet eyes at the long-time driver and told the man that she was depending on him to get Justin to the fund-raiser on time.
Justin grimaced as he thought of the bachelor auction and wished, yet again, that he hadn’t agreed to participate. He still believed a generous check to the charity would have sufficed. But then, he’d always found it difficult to say no to his sister. And then there had been Kim, calmly pointing out how simple it would be for him to keep his promise to attend the event.
Kim.
As happy as he was about salvaging the Schaeffer deal, he was even more pleased that he had been able to put this new attraction to Kim into perspective. Until this thing with Schaeffer had gotten settled, he hadn’t realized how consumed he’d been with business during these past few months. Since Kim had been the woman he’d spent most of his time with, it was only natural that he had been drawn to her. That was all it was, he assured himself. Now that he had himself in hand, he could only be grateful that he hadn’t given in to the urge that night to kiss her.
Pleased with his assessment of the situation and confident that he had everything under control again, Justin smiled as he reached for the cummerbund. Kim said she would be at the fund-raiser tonight. The fact that he was looking forward to seeing her had nothing to do with his growing attraction to her, he reasoned. It was simply that he knew she’d be as excited as he was about the way the Schaeffer deal had turned out. Slipping the tie around his neck, Justin sat back and thought of the evening ahead.
As much as he disliked the idea of being auctioned off, it really was for a good cause. The fact that it would make Tara and Jennifer happy made it somewhat more palatable. And, of course, not having to wait until Monday to see Kim’s face when he told her about the outcome of the Schaeffer meeting made the evening ahead actually appealing.
Who knew, Justin mused as he gave up on getting the tie right. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“I feel like a prize steer at a cattle auction,” Justin complained thirty minutes later as he waited backstage for the bachelor auction to begin.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, quit bellyaching,” Tara countered as she looked him over with a critical eye and zeroed in on the tie he’d managed to mangle. “This is going to be fun.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to parade around on that stage out there in front of a man-hungry audience.”
“And since when do you dislike being the center of attention in a roomful of females?” she asked as she proceeded to redo his tie.
“Since Eve Novak cornered me on my way backstage.”
Tara paused. She lifted her gaze to his and arched her brow. “Oh? And what did Evie say to put you into such a foul mood?”
Ignoring the foul-mood accusation, he said, “It’s not so much what she said, it’s the way she looked at me when she said it.”
“And just how did she look at you, big brother?” Tara teased.
“Like a hungry cat that had just cornered its next meal,” Justin grumbled. “Now I know what women mean when they complain about a guy undressing them with his eyes. For a minute there I half expected her to pinch my a—my, uh, butt.”
“I’m sure she thought about it,” Tara informed him as she went back to adjusting his tie. “Word at the country club is that Eve’s in the market for a new husband.”
“I thought she just got married again last year.”
“She did. But apparently marriage to a cowboy wasn’t what Eve expected. As of last week, she’s single again.”
“I’ll probably kick myself for asking,” Justin began, “but what happened?”
“It seems that Mr. Tall, Dark and Texan was under the mistaken impression that Evie was going to ride off into the sunset with him. The poor guy actually thought the two of them were going to have little cowboys and cowgirls of their own and live happily ever after on his ranch.”
Poor guy was right, Justin thought. How anyone would believe the self-indulgent, spoiled Eve Novak would even agree to have a child, let alone actually raise one was beyond him. “The guy must have had a little too much cactus juice if he believed that. Eve has never struck me as the maternal type.”
“Me, neither,” Tara replied. “But then, I suspect it wasn’t her maternal instincts that Tex was drawn to in the first place.”
His sister was right. Eve Novak was a beautiful and glamorous woman—the kind who always drew a man’s eye. But he had never been even slightly interested in her, Justin admitted. Probably because there was something almost predatory about the woman that turned him off. Which was why he’d never even been tempted to follow through on any of the invitations, blatant or otherwise, that she’d cast his way over the years. And he didn’t intend to start tonight, either.
“But you shouldn’t have anything to worry about where Eve is concerned,” Tara told him, and stepped back to survey her handiwork.
Justin narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I doubt Eve has any intention of treating you like a son if she wins you in the auction tonight.”
Justin’s blood ran cold at his sister’s gibe. “You’d better be joking, brat. Because if I thought for one minute that there was a chance I’d get stuc
k on a date with Eve Novak, I’d be out of here so fast it would make your head spin.”
When Tara bit her bottom lip and remained silent, Justin broke out in a sweat. “Tara, tell me that there’s no way Eve Novak has any chance of winning me in this auction.”
“And just how am I supposed to do that?” she demanded. “It’s an auction, Justin. I don’t have any control over who bids what. Considering her trust fund and the settlements from her last three divorces, Eve might very well be in a position to outbid everyone else here tonight.”
Justin swore.
“Justin,” Tara admonished.
“Sorry,” he muttered. And he was sorry. Sorry that he’d ever let himself be talked into this stunt—even if it was for charity. His mind raced for a way out of this mess without going back on his word to his sister and to Jennifer.
“Justin, you really aren’t going to leave us in the lurch, are you?”
“No,” he told her. “But there’s no way I’m going to get stuck with that man-eater, either. Give me a minute. I need to figure this out.”
“You may want to think fast, big brother. The auction’s going to start in about fifteen minutes.”
Justin raked a hand through his hair, resisted the urge to loosen his tie as he paced. “I’ve got it,” he told Tara. “You bid on me.”
“I can’t do that. I’m your sister.”
“So?”
“So, how would it look for your own sister to win a date with you?”
Desperate, he suggested, “Then have Jennifer do it.”
“She’s married to Chance,” Tara reminded him. “Somehow I doubt that Chance would appreciate having his wife win a date with his brother.”
She was right, Justin admitted. He thought of suggesting Kim since she’d said she would be attending. But he immediately rejected the idea. He’d just got his head straight where she was concerned. Having Kim bid on his date package would be asking for trouble. “I’m not getting saddled for an evening with Eve Novak—not even if it is for a good cause.”