After the Party

by Jackie Braun

  “So, what did you want to talk about?”

  For a moment Chase had nearly forgotten the urgent nature of his visit. “It’s my uncle.”

  A pair of beguiling, if dissimilar, eyes brightened as she smiled. “Elliot is delightful.”

  “He is that.” It was the other adjectives being applied that caused Chase to worry. “When we were in his office last Friday, some of what was said...well, it wasn’t for public consumption.”

  “The part about him being forced into retirement, you mean.”

  So, she had picked up on it.

  Chase nodded. “I brought a confidentiality agreement I would like you to sign.”

  The lawyer in him knew that it held little weight since he was having her sign it after the fact, but it was the best he could do.

  He pulled the folded document from the breast pocket of his suit coat and handed it to her.

  “I hope you can appreciate the need for discretion. If the media were to get wind of such talk...” He took another sip of wine. It tasted just as bad as it had the first time, but it wasn’t responsible for the sour taste in his mouth.

  “I understand.”

  “Besides, nothing has been decided.”

  “Elliot seems to think it has.”

  “It’s the rumors.” Chase stared into his wine as she studied the confidentiality agreement. For no reason he could fathom, he heard himself admit, “He’s been acting more erratic lately and getting a little forgetful.”

  He swirled the wine in his glass, wishing for something that not only tasted better but was a hell of a lot stronger.

  “And you’re worried it’s dementia.”

  “Dementia! No! God, no!” He couldn’t bear to think it.

  “It could be something simple, you know. Like a vitamin deficiency.”

  “Yeah?”

  “My grandmother got a little spacey at one point. Her B-12 levels were out of whack. A few shots later, she was back to being her old self again.”

  Chase liked the sound of that, even if getting his uncle to see a doctor would be near impossible. It had been decades since Elliot last saw a physician. He’d refused to go for even an annual checkup since Chase’s father, Elliot’s twin brother, had died of a rare blood disorder. He said he didn’t want to know if he, too, had the hereditary condition. Chase and Owen had both been checked, and, thankfully, were unaffected.

  “In the meantime, we still have a problem. The board, or rather, several of its members have raised concerns about his fitness to continue leading the company.”

  “I would imagine the recent slump in sales isn’t helping.”

  At that, Chase’s gaze snapped to hers. Suspicion coiled like a snake about to strike. “What do you know about Trumbull’s sales?”

  “It’s a publicly traded company. For a while, shares held steady even when profits began to decline, but now they are slipping, with some investors anxious about the release of this quarter’s figures.”

  “You follow the stock market?”

  She answered his question with one of her own. “Does that surprise you?”

  “N-no.”

  The sputtered denial had barely made it past his lips when Ella started to laugh.

  “It’s all right. I know I don’t look like the average broker, and I’m hardly an expert on Wall Street.”

  She was right on the first count. “But you obviously pay attention.”

  “My dad was...interested in stocks. Besides, when Elliot called to ask if I would plan his wake, I did a little digging online so I would be prepared when I met him.”

  “Ah.” It made sense. Still, Chase got the impression she had been about to say something else.

  “An internet search turned up a story on Trumbull stocks.”

  “Just one?” he asked dryly.

  “Several, actually. This economy has hit a lot of businesses hard.”

  She was being polite, Chase knew, since the articles she’d read probably mentioned how well Trumbull’s competitors were doing in comparison.

  A familiar sense of frustration settled over him. “My uncle started his company after none of the big toymakers would even meet with him about his idea.”

  “Randy the Robot.”

  Chase nodded. Everyone had heard of the famous toy. A couple of generations earlier, practically every kid in the country had owned one.

  “Elliot always has had an eye for what appeals to children. No one believed in him when he started out. The banks wouldn’t even give him a loan. He poured his blood, sweat and life savings into developing a prototype, finding a manufacturer and personally visiting stores, begging them to put it on their shelves. And now—” He broke off, surprised to have told her all of that. He was here to make sure what she already knew didn’t go any farther. Not supply her with additional information. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear this.”

  “Don’t apologize. I understand. He’s family and you love him. Naturally, you’re angry on his behalf. It hurts to watch someone we care about suffer.”

  From her tone it was clear she was speaking from personal experience, which made it easier for Chase to be blunt. “My uncle is making a mistake with this party.”

  “Wake, you mean.”

  “Exactly my point.” Chase rubbed his forehead. “The message he’s sending to the board, to the shareholders and to his competitors is that he’s giving up without a fight.”

  “And you think it will give credence to the rumors about his...erratic behavior and forgetfulness,” she finished diplomatically.

  “It certainly won’t help.”

  “From what I read, your uncle has a reputation for being eccentric. People have come to expect that.”

  “But an Irish wake...” He sipped more wine. God, the stuff really was nasty.

  “Are you asking me not to take him on as a client?”

  As much as he wanted to tell her yes, Chase shook his head. “No. That decision is my uncle’s.”

  “I’m glad you see it that way. Besides, he seems adamant about going ahead with it. If I don’t plan his wake, someone else will.”

  Since she’d presented Chase with the opening, he took it. “About that. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “After speaking to my uncle the other day, you must know this is a large undertaking.”

  She blew out a breath. “Huge.”

  “Yes. And since his guests will include business rivals and members of the media, well, it’s imperative this go off as smoothly as possible.”

  “I agree.”

  “Then you will understand that I must ask, what are your credentials?”

  “My credentials.”

  “In the elevator the other day, you mentioned something about your business being a new endeavor. You aren’t the only one to do an internet search. After the meeting in my uncle’s office, I did one of event planning services in the city. I couldn’t find anything on yours.”

  Uh-oh.

  Ella swallowed and it was all she could do to keep a smile plastered on her face.

  “I’m relatively new at this,” she admitted.

  “Yes, so I gathered. Can you tell me a little bit about your background?”

  “Well, I have a bachelor’s degree from New York University,” she began. She should have stopped there. He appeared suitably impressed until she added, “In fashion merchandising.”

  “Fashion?”

  “Merchandising,” she added. “It’s the business side of fashion.”

  “And now you plan parties for a living.”

  He scratched his cheek, looking as if he were having a hard time connecting the dots. She thought it best not to mention the role Madame Maroushka had playe
d in this particular career move.

  “How many parties have you planned?”

  “The actual number?”

  Chase nodded.

  “Hmm. Let’s see...” She tapped a finger to her lips, wondering if she should include the surprise party she’d helped throw for her friend Sandra when they were seventeen. That would make...one. Where Ella had attended scores of major galas, balls and bashes over the years, she’d never been in on the actual planning.

  “Feel free to ballpark it,” he told her when the silence stretched.

  She decided to come clean. It was easier to do since they’d already established that keeping her on the job was his uncle’s call.

  “Here’s the thing. I haven’t actually planned any big parties. Yet.”

  Chase had been lounging against her wall, and looking pretty damned good there, too. Even better than the collection of designer scarves that hung just to his left. Upon hearing her answer, he levered away from the chipped plaster so abruptly that wine sloshed over the rim of his glass and splattered on the white area rug under his feet.

  He muttered an oath, whether because of the stain or her lack of party-planning experience she couldn’t be sure.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Now Ella wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for the mess he’d made or the curse.

  “That’s all right.” She figured the response covered all of the bases.

  She set her own glass aside and went to get a dishcloth from the sink. When she returned, Chase surprised her by taking it from her hand and crouching down to scrub the stain himself. She crouched next to him, balancing on the balls of her bare feet.

  “It’s better to blot it,” she told him.

  Intending to show him what she meant, Ella reached for the dishcloth. But when her hand touched his and their gazes connected, his expression changed and she swore the air grew charged. She knew that look. She’d seen a couple versions of it on his face already. Once in the elevator right after they met and earlier when she’d opened her apartment door. Those had been tame in comparison. He was interested in more than her party-planning skills. Or lack of them. He wanted to kiss her, possibly more. The thought had a few places on her body starting to tighten and tingle.

  The smart thing would have been to push to her feet and pretend she hadn’t noticed his interest. Yep, that would have been the smart thing, all right. Except Ella had never been accused of playing it smart, so she leaned forward until their breaths mingled and she could feel the warmth that radiated from his body. On a groan, Chase closed the miniscule gap that remained.

  One moment his hands were holding the damp dishrag. The next, the rag was history and his palms were on either side of Ella’s face, holding her steady even as his mouth rocked her world. If the man could have that effect with his tongue, she could only imagine what he would be capable of using other parts of his anatomy.

  And she’d thought she was over her head when it came to party planning.

  The kiss ended. Chase pulled away slowly. Ella blinked, trying to clear her head, and then said the first thing that came to mind.

  “Wow.”

  Okay, so she wasn’t exactly articulate when she was turned on.

  Chase said nothing. He looked slightly annoyed, whether with her or himself, she couldn’t be sure. He placed his hands on his thighs and pushed to his feet. Once he’d risen to his full height, he looked like the no-nonsense, high-powered executive he was.

  “I didn’t stop by to kiss you.”

  Ella straightened.

  “I didn’t think you had.” Still, she’d considered it a happy bonus.

  But there was nothing “happy” about Chase’s expression.

  “I don’t make it a habit to kiss women I barely know.”

  How to respond to that? She decided on, “I didn’t mind.”

  He tossed the verbal equivalent of a bucket of ice water in her face when he replied, “But I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “Then why did you?” she asked baldly.

  “I...” He shook his head and demanded, “Does my uncle know that you’ve never planned a party?”

  Back to that. Damn. “It hasn’t come up.”

  “Well, that’s convenient.”

  “Hey!” she protested. “He called me.”

  “Only because he received your business card, and on that card it says you are a professional. Yet you have no experience, no specialized training, since I doubt a degree in fashion merchandising counts.” He glanced around her apartment and made a scoffing noise. “You don’t even have a proper office.”

  “I could tell you that plenty of people work from home these days. I’m sure a man in your position has heard of telecommuting. I could tell you that what I lack in experience, I make up for in enthusiasm.” She folded her arms over her chest, torn between feeling self-conscious and righteously indignant. Indignation won, and so she finished with, “But I’m wondering what I did to tick you off just now.”

  His eyes widened. Ella doubted many people called Chase Trumbull on the carpet. Or the wine-stained area rug, as the case may be.

  “I... You...” He closed his mouth and his lips thinned into a flat line.

  She liked them better when they were loose and limber...and on hers.

  Since those two sputtered pronouns were all she was likely to get out of him, she continued. “I may be new at planning parties, but I’ve attended a lot of them. I know what makes for a fun and memorable evening. I know what people like.”

  “El...Miss Sanborn.”

  “After that kiss, I think we’re on a first-name basis,” she told him dryly and had the satisfaction of seeing him flush.

  “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. Entertaining several hundred guests will not be easy. You can’t just tap a few kegs of beer, throw some pretzels into bowls and bring out the board games.”

  “Gee, and that was my plan.” Anger joined ranks with indignation.

  “I don’t mean to be condescending.”

  “It’s just a side benefit.”

  His eyes narrowed. “We’re talking about a massive undertaking that even a veteran planner would have a hard time coordinating. Caterers, florists, servers, bartenders, tents, tables, chairs, a sound system and entertainment, cleaning services and waste removal.” He ticked off a list that, okay, was way more comprehensive than the one Ella already had assembled, before demanding, “What sorts of contacts do you have in these areas?”

  “I know some people.” Actually, her former stepmother knew those people. Camilla had enjoyed throwing lavish parties while she’d been married to Ella’s dad. She still enjoyed throwing those parties, only now a different husband picked up the tab. Ella didn’t feel the need to draw the distinction now. But she wanted to leave Chase feeling reassured. “I won’t pretend to have all of the answers, but what I don’t know I will make it my mission to learn and figure out. I’m very resourceful.”

  Chase sighed.

  “I believe you mean that, Ella.” His voice lowered, turned soft. She preferred his anger to patronization, and that’s what this was. “But my uncle cannot afford to be your training ground. Too much is at stake right now. He needs someone who knows what she’s doing. Not someone who will be learning as she goes.”

  Ella swallowed. She hated that what he said made sense. What choice did she have but to agree?

  “I’ll tender my resignation and suggest he find someone else.”

  Because her eyes had begun to burn with tears, she turned away from him, forgetting about the glass of wine that she’d set on the floor next to the futon. The coin-size splash of merlot Chase had made on the white rug was nothing in comparison to the crimson tide she’d just unleashed.

  “God! This is a mess,” she cried.

/>   He found the dishcloth and stepped around her. “It might come out.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Ella had bigger problems than a ruined rug. She had to return the sizable check Elliot had given her as a deposit, which meant she couldn’t pay her rent or catch up on her other bills.

  And then there was Chase, the man who had just kissed her with far more passion than she would have guessed lurked beneath such a reserved exterior. Would she see him again? It wasn’t likely.

  “I’m sorry, Ella. Really.” He set down the rag and started for the door.

  She waited until she heard it click shut to let her tears fall.

  FOUR

  Chase felt awful. He’d left Ella with a mess on her hands in more ways than one. It was obvious that she needed the income from planning a big party. Even more than that, she needed the experience. One big-name client to use as a reference could make her as a party planner in Manhattan.

  If so much weren’t on the line, he wouldn’t have strong-armed her into quitting. He consoled himself with the fact that she understood his motive. But as consolations went, it was paltry, which was why her defeated expression haunted him that night.

  Their kiss in her apartment stayed with him, too.

  It wasn’t like Chase to mix business with pleasure. And that kiss definitely rated as pleasure. As much as he might wish he would have met Ella Sanborn under different circumstances, there was no denying his interest. Everything about her had him intrigued, starting with her dual eye color and disparate dimples.

  She didn’t stop by to see Elliot the following day as Chase expected. Or the next. Had she changed her mind? Was she reneging? For that matter, she’d never signed the confidentiality agreement that had been his reason for dropping in on her in the first place. He’d left it in her possession, forgot about it entirely after that kiss.

  By Friday night, he gave in to his curiosity and called her. He had no idea what he would say when she came on the line. That, too, wasn’t like him. Chase usually planned ahead and then followed those plans to the letter. He didn’t go off half-cocked. That was Uncle Elliot’s specialty.