"Just tell the maître d' you're with Mrs. Jezebel Barnum. He'll find me. And bring a date. I hate business dinners." And then the line went dead.
That sealed it. Definitely a prank phone call. Trying to get her to bring a date. Everyone knew she had no one to bring.
"Who was that?"
"Prank call." Bev stalked back over to the mop. She wasn't going to stop until she got the blasted pen clean.
"Really? Was it a phone sex stalker?"
Bev eyed her friend. "You have issues. You know that, don't you?"'
"Yep. So? Who was it?"
"Some lady claiming to be Mrs. Jezebel Barnum who wants to meet me for dinner at Chez Pierre at six tonight to discuss a possible donation to Give a Dog a Bone."
Josie frowned. "So, why do you think it's a prank?"
"Because she ended the conversation with the order that I bring a date. A date? Who brings a date to a meeting about a shelter? Obviously, it's some jerk who is just trying to make me look like a fool." It hadn't happened since high school, someone making fun of her less-than-active social life, but it still hadn't changed. Once a loser, always a loser. But dammit. She didn't want to play that game anymore. She was so done with what she had once been.
But Josie wasn't so quick to be dissuaded. "Chez Pierre is a really fancy restaurant. I can see how someone might think a date would be appropriate."
Bev tensed. "How fancy is 'really' fancy?"
"Fancy. You'll have to borrow one of my dresses." Josie rubbed her chin. "I don't think you can afford to skip this dinner, in case it's legit. Any donor who wants to meet there has definite potential."
"Either that or Mrs. Jezebel Barnum is a crafty old witch who's looking for ways to get destitute people to buy her dinner." Bev shoved the mop across the floor with extra force, irritated by the phone call. Did she believe it and go to dinner, or skip it and risk missing out on something? And to a fancy restaurant. It was sure to be the kind of place she didn't belong. Tables filled with beautiful, sophisticated people in expensive clothes who knew exactly which fork to use. But her animals... "Darn it. I have to go, don't I? Even if there is only a teeny-tiny chance it's legit."
"Yep. And you can't bring Les to a place like that."
Bev jammed the mop into the last dirty crevice. "Then who am I supposed to bring? You?"
Josie grinned. "Nope."
"I don't have anyone to bring." Bev put the mop into the mop bucket and began wheeling it to the water closet. "I'll go alone."
Josie was standing in her way. "Ask Mack."
Her response was automatic. "No chance." But even as the words fell from her lips, some decidedly traitorous part of her shivered with something that was far from terror. She blinked. "Can you imagine going to a fancy place like that on Mack's arm?"
Josie grinned. "I know, right? You'd belong."
"I'd belong." The words sounded magical. For as long as she could remember, places with fancy, attractive people had made her skulk to the nearest exit and sit in the corner of the nearest alley in atonement for daring to think she deserved to be there.
But with Mack on her arm, she would fit. He exuded so much freaking "upper crust" material that he could make a rabid, diseased cockroach fit in to ooh-la-la society, and she was definitely several cuts above a tainted insect.
Wow. If she took Mack to a place like that, then he might even decide she could fit into his world, and see her as someone he could take out in public, instead of someone worthy only of a clandestine romp on a dog bed in an animal shelter…
Gah. What was she thinking? Hello, delusional thoughts. So nice to see you again. No matter how far above cockroaches she was on the societal food chain, she would never fit into Mack's world. There was no point in trying to delude herself, or get a temporary escort into it, because eventually, she'd crash and burn, and then her little hopes and dreams would be ruthlessly destroyed once again. Who needed that? Not her. Which meant no Cinderella moment with Mack as her date for one evening.
Josie held out her phone. "Call him."
Bev's apparently self-deluded hand actually reached out for the phone before she managed to regain control of her muscles and jam her hand into her pocket. "Definitely not. Never. No chance. That is ridiculous. I am leaving."
She quickly wheeled the mop bucket around Josie, spilling half the contents in her haste to get away from her much-too-romantic friend. As if she'd embarrass herself by asking Mack out on a date. A date, for heaven's sake. With Mack. The thought made her stomach flutter and her breath catch in her chest.
Oh, come on, already. Really with the butterflies? Hadn't she just made it clear to herself that a date with Mack was a no-go? She was pretty sure she had. So why was she revisiting it again?
Josie leaned against the peeling paint of the doorframe. "He's the one driving you out of business. If he didn't feel guilty, he wouldn't have brought you food. He'll jump at the chance to help you."
"Yes, he probably would, but that's not the point." Bev slammed the bucket down, yelping when the wheel smashed her little toe. She wanted to call Mack, burned to see him again. Which was why she wasn't going to. All it had taken was that one kiss with him, and she was getting all dreamy about him, which was stupid because her self-esteem really wasn't solid enough to handle liking him and getting ditched.
Josie raised her eyebrows. "He's your secret weapon."
"I don't need a secret weapon. I have my own awesomeness." She bit her lip. "How exactly is he a secret weapon?"
"He's an expert in negotiation and business. The man makes deals every day for a living, and can talk any company into doing whatever he says. You, on the other hand, have the talent of a stray cat when it comes to business."
"Gee, thanks." Bev nudged the bucket into the corner with her throbbing toe, contemplating Josie's point. "I do admit that he has more negotiating skills than I do."
"That he does."
"And he's used to getting people to fork over money."
"That he is."
"And he does owe me."
"This is true."
Bev grimaced, her heart starting to race. "If I invited him, it wouldn't be like I'm calling him because I want him romantically or anything like that."
Josie raised both eyebrows, but she nodded sagely. "Not at all. It would be for the animals."
"It's not as if I'd be asking him on a date." Yes, she'd already made that point, but she kinda felt like it was important to make it again.
"Nope. Just helping you out with business." Josie's eyes were dancing, obviously not believing her own words. The damn woman was match-making, which was super annoying, especially because Bev wanted her to be right.
"No. No, I don't want to date him, so stop giving me that look."
Josie's face became innocent. "What look?"
"You know what look." Bev sighed, rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead. Yes, thinking of Mack romantically would be a huge mistake, and asking him to a nice dinner was putting temptation much too close. But for her animals, she would do anything. She sighed. "You're right. Mack's my best chance. I could prey on his rescue-dog-owner guilt and get his help. His platonic, business help, right?"
Josie nodded solemnly. "Right." She held up Bev's phone again.
"Okay, then." Not giving herself an opportunity to change her mind, she marched over to the phone. Her hand was shaking when she took her phone, and then saw that Josie had already looked up Mack's office number.
"It's ringing." A woman answered the phone, announcing the name of the firm Mack worked for. Bev closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent of dogs and cedar chips filling her nose. "Um, hello. May I speak to Mack Spenser please?"
"He isn't in. May I take a message?"
Bev hesitated, not sure she wanted to rely on someone to translate. "May I have his voice mail, instead?" His admin cheerfully complied, and Bev was promptly connected with his voicemail. Relief flowed through her that she didn't have to talk to him, while disappointme
nt tightened her grip on the phone. "Um, hi. It's Bev Ryan. I'm calling because I need a favor. A potential donor named Jezebel Barnum has invited me to dinner at Chez Pierre tonight at six, and I have to bring a date. Since you're responsible for the fact that I have to beg for money, I would like you to go with me and help me beg. If you're available, I'll just meet you at Chez Pierre a little before six. Thanks. Bye."
Bev slammed down the phone and stared at her friend. "I need a dress."
Chapter 11
It was one minute before six and there was no sign of Mack outside Chez Pierre. Bev tried to run her hand through her hair, stopping when her fingers caught in the sophisticated bun that Josie had woven for her.
Where was Mack? She stood on the edge of the curb, peering up and down the street, but the only vehicle that went by was a mini-van with screaming kids in the backseat. Definitely not Mack.
Maybe he hadn't received her message. She should have called his house. She'd been so certain a workaholic like Mack would check his messages constantly, but maybe she was wrong.
Her stomach plummeted when she looked at her watch. Six o'clock. Time was up. She couldn't afford to keep Mrs. Jezebel Barnum waiting. But how could she face that restaurant by herself?
She'd been so certain Mack would come, after all his offers for help. She still should've had a back-up plan.
Oh, well. It was too late. She was on her own, and her animals were depending on her. She had to go inside. Heaven help her, she knew nothing about fundraising or dining in fancy restaurants. Nothing at all.
Bev shuffled to the front door of Chez Pierre, her brain racing as she tried to think of how she was going to address Mrs. Barnum. Should she start talking about Give a Dog a Bone right away, or wait for Mrs. Barnum to bring it up? Was she supposed to pay for dinner?
A quick glance at the prices on the menu posted beside the door nearly sent her running for her car, clutching her wallet, but she managed to stop herself after only two steps. She had to think of her little beagle, and all her friends, even the nasty cocker.
"You can do it, Bev." She took a deep breath and smoothed her dress, grateful at least that Josie had allowed her to wear a less daring neckline than she'd been saddled with at the party. Of course, the cinched-in waist was hardly a good camouflage for her less-than-hourglass figure, but Josie had insisted that she looked like a goddess. It had been too much effort to argue, plus, she had to admit that the dress had an interesting slenderizing effect that she rather liked. She stole a peek at herself in the glass front door. Wow. She didn't look half-bad. With her hair swept up and the narrow straps of her sandals, she almost looked sophisticated.
Maybe she could pull this off.
Hauling open the glass front door, which didn't have even a single fingerprint, Bev stepped inside the plush restaurant, the hushed hum of dignified conversation barely audible.
"Good evening. Do you have a reservation?" A balding man with a red rose tucked into the lapel of his tuxedo gave her no time to adjust to the velvet covered chairs and crystal chandeliers. It was even fancier than she'd imagined, and she didn't belong. Oh, God. She needed to find an alley to hide in right now…
"Miss? Do you have a reservation?"
Dogs. Dogs. Dogs. Do it for the dogs. "Um... Oh, yes." She lifted her chin. "I'm meeting Mrs. Jezebel Barnum for dinner."
"Ah, yes. Right this way." Walking like a penguin on ice, the man led the way across the immaculate carpet, through a series of elegantly set tables with sparkling wine glasses and pristine linen tablecloths. The women all wore elegant dresses with huge diamonds sparkling in their ears. Bev touched her sterling silver dog bone earrings that she'd gotten on eBay for twenty dollars, and decided she no longer needed to wonder whether she'd made a foolish mistake coming to Chez Pierre. She had.
"Here you go."
They stopped beside a table in the corner, with windows on two sides and a view of a park. An elderly woman with a diamond ring the size of a piece of kibble was staring idly out the window, a glass of white wine in front of her.
Bev waited for the maître d' to introduce them, and then realized he was gone. She was on her own. Heaven help her, she was so out of her league. "Um, Mrs. Barnum? I'm Bev Ryan."
The craggy head turned slowly toward her, as if to build the anticipation. Sharp eyes crackled behind the gold-rimmed glasses as Mrs. Jezebel Barnum studied Bev, starting at the top of her head all the way down to her high-heeled sandals. The pain in her feet was worth it when Mrs. Barnum gave an approving nod at her appearance. "And where is your date? I told you I dislike business meetings."
"Ah... My date..."
"Is late as usual. I'm so sorry to keep two such lovely ladies waiting." And then, suddenly, miraculously Mack was beside her, his hand tucked around her elbow and a very apologetic look on his face. He placed a chaste kiss on Bev's cheek. "I'm so sorry, my dear. I was in the middle of a negotiation for the North Shore Bank and I just couldn't leave. Please, do forgive me..." His voice trailed off, and his eyes darkened as his gaze settled on her.
Bev was unable to stop herself from beaming at his surprise appearance, even when he began to inspect her. She shifted nervously as Mack's eyes rambled over her swept-up hair, traveled across her bare shoulders, down the length of her body. After he reached her freshly painted toenails, he released a barely audible whistle under his breath, then met Bev's gaze. "You look incredible."
Warmth surged through her, and her belly quivered. There was no mistaking the heat in his gaze. If they were alone, it would be last night all over again, only this time she wasn't certain she would stop him. He was freshly shaven, but she could still see the faint darkening where his stubble was. His suit fit him perfectly, draping over his frame like it was made for him...which it most certainly was.
Before she could make herself stop gawking at him, Mack ducked his head and caught her lips in the most tender kiss, dignified and appropriate for the circumstances, but promising so much more. Her knees wobbled, and only his secure grip on her elbow kept her steady.
His eyes twinkling, as if he could read Bev's mind, he turned his charms on Mrs. Jezebel Barnum. "And you must be the Olympic gold medalist that I've been dying to meet ever since Bev told me about our dinner. My name is Mack Spenser and it is completely my honor to meet you."
The wrinkles seemed to drop right off Jezebel's face as she began to glow. "How in the world did you know about the Olympics?"
Mack shrugged, pulling out a chair for Bev. "Anyone who follows track and field would know who you are. You're a legend. Have a seat, Bev."
He guided Bev to her seat with a hand on her lower back, proper yet laden with heat and promise. She tried to focus on the conversation. Olympic medalist?
Once he was certain Bev wasn't going to topple out of her chair, Mack sat in the adjacent chair, keeping one arm resting across the back of her chair. Possessive, yet dignified. He wouldn't ruin her chances with Jezebel by molesting her in the restaurant, but it wasn't going to be easy. The dress she was wearing showed off curves he wanted to investigate. Closely. With Bev, everything she wore was sexy, and each time he saw her, she became harder to resist. He'd seen the look of terror on her face and the stiff set to her shoulders as he'd approached, and he knew she'd been terrified to deal with Jezebel on her own…and yet she'd been there anyway, for her dogs.
Damn, he admired her. The woman had guts, and he liked that. A lot.
"You're too kind with your praise, my boy," Jezebel said. "I'm hardly a legend."
"Of course you are. The first American woman to win a gold in your event. You laid the groundwork for all female track and field athletes who came after you." He smiled at Bev. "Don't you agree, sweetheart?" He couldn't touch her the way he wanted to right now, but he damn well wanted her to know that he was still thinking about last night.
Her gaze snapped to his, and her cheeks flushed, making his gut tighten. He knew from the smoldering look in her eyes at his appearance that she too hadn't been abl
e to stop thinking about last night either. He dropped his hand so he could touch her neck, trailing his fingers along her delicate skin. "Sweetheart? Don't you agree?"
She jumped at his touch, then cleared her throat, stalling for time as she regrouped. "Um, absolutely... Honey." Mack warmed at Bev's endearment, even though he knew it was payback, but before he could continue the flirtation, she dragged her eyes off him and looked at Jezebel. "You're the first Olympic athlete I've ever met. Do you still have your medal?"
When Jezebel fluffed her hair and leaned toward Bev with a spark in her eye in response to Bev's insightful question, Mack grinned. Bev had the instinct when it came to people, even if she didn't believe it.
"I have it framed over my bed." Jezebel giggled like a little girl. "I look at it every single night. No one ever remembers, except Walt, of course."
Bev shot Mack a panicked look, obviously having no idea who Walt was. He pressed his thigh against hers for reassurance, then nodded in agreement with Jezebel. "Walt's a business genius. I can see why you two have been married for sixty-three years. Walt must take inspiration from you to have named his business after the city where you won your medal."
Bev's mouth dropped open in astonishment, clearly shocked that he'd taken the time to find out who they were eating with tonight. He quietly slid his hand under the table and squeezed her knee, immediately forgetting his intention had been to reassure her so she didn't feel ignorant. He'd done a little research because he'd done this song and dance a bunch of times, and it was fine that she hadn't thought of it. Why would she? This was her first time in this situation. He wanted her to know that…but the moment he felt the slippery silk of her dress under his hand, all he could think about was her as a woman. He could feel the muscles in her thigh tighten. He noticed that she didn't pull away from his touch, so he left his hand right where it was.
Her cheeks became red, and she glanced at him. He grinned, and a tentative smile curved her mouth. He realized she had no clue how alluring she was, which made her even more charming. The women he was used to dating were nothing like her…and he was realizing pretty fast why none of them had worked out. He'd been looking for Bev.
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