She introduced herself shyly. "My name is Brooke Anne."
"I'm Cassie Edwards."
Brooke Anne nodded politely. "This is a wonderful salad," she said inanely when Cassie evidently had nothing else to offer. "I bet this is quite an undertaking for the staff-serving a party this large."
"Does it seem large to you?" the brunette asked archly. "Anthony and I went to a party last week at least two times the size of this gathering." She took a minuscule bite of salad. "I don't remember seeing you before. Are you a new friend of Morgan's?"
"Yes, I am. This is our first date, actually."
"How nice for you. Our Morgan is considered quite a catch, you know."
Brooke Anne caught every veiled hint thrown her way. Cassie was making it clear that she deemed Morgan to be out of her league. But recalling the sweetness of Morgan's kiss, she decided to volley a few shots of her own. "I'm very lucky, then. Have you known him long?"
"As long as he's been with the company. Three years now."
"You must know a lot of the people here."
"Oh, yes, but not very well," Cassie said, taking another small bite of salad. "At these parties, it's next to impossible to speak with everyone. You have to pick and choose who you spend time with. It's a wife's duty to make sure she speaks to everyone who counts."
"My goodness."
Cassie nodded sagely. "We spent a whole fifteen minutes speaking with the new CEO. That was quite a coup. Have you had a chance to meet him yet?"
"No."
"Or his wife? She's very fond of gardening."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"What about Mr. Brownlee, the president? I actually danced with him this evening. Anthony was so excited to see me in his arms! Who have you danced with?"
Brooke Anne had never been part of a conversation as strange as this one. The woman was treating networking like a full-fledged job. "I've been dancing with Morgan. And with Aaron...Morgan's assistant's husband."
The other woman's lips pursed. "Who else?"
"Um, Stan someone. I don't remember his last name."
"Was it Stan Ashworth? One of the vice presidents?"
"Gosh, I think so. Is he the man who has thinning blond hair and twin girls and likes to ski?"
Cassie looked taken aback. "Listen, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you've been doing Morgan a disservice," she said quietly.
A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Brooke Anne's stomach. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that the purpose of these parties is for Morgan to have opportunities to mingle with people who matter. If you can't help him do that, then you're really of no use to him."
Her shock at Cassie's words must have been written all over her face. Brooke Anne glanced at Morgan. He'd moved his salad away, untouched, and was still deep in conversation with the man next to him.
"I'm sorry?" she asked. "I don't think I heard you correctly."
Cassie narrowed her eyes, as if she was weighing how much energy she should expend on Brooke Anne. "I'm just saying that if you expected romance from this party, you came to the wrong place. Morgan needs someone here to help him further his career. His job is what's most important to him, anyway." She let out an artificial laugh. "But I'm sure you've realized that."
"No, I hadn't," Brooke Anne answered honestly. Memories of Morgan shrugging out of his coat on their private balcony flashed through her mind. And the kiss. That wonderful, heart-stopping, luxurious kiss. That had to mean something, didn't it?
Minutes went by. The waiters came again to carry away the salad plates and fill their stemmed glasses with a sparkling wine. Brooke Anne took a fortifying sip and waited for things to go back to the way they'd been between Morgan and her. She waited for him to turn with a sexy smile and whisper that he wished they were alone.
Except that Morgan's interest was now focused on the fate of two specific stocks, and he seemed to have the undivided attention of half the table. The others were either talking quietly among themselves or scanning the crowd.
Then the sound of tinkling glasses, the signal for a speech, rang through the air. All conversation stopped, and an elderly man whom Brooke Anne recognized as the CEO from a photograph in the building began to speak.
She shifted in her chair. Due to Morgan's lack of attention, Cassie's daggerlike words and the imposed boredom of the meal, she noticed that her feet had begun to hurt.
As inconspicuously as possible, she leaned down and inspected one of her heels. She was more than a little dismayed to find that her beautiful shoes had rubbed a raw blister there. A stinging sensation burned deep.
Realizing that her other foot was probably in equally bad shape, and that they were destined to sit through several more courses, Brooke Anne slipped her sandals off and curled her toes in the soft pile of the carpet.
The relief was immediate.
She forced herself to sit quietly and listen to the year's progress in the stock market, as well as the CEO's perspective on the state of the economy and the country in general. No one besides her appeared to be bored or uncomfortable.
She was glad when, after thirty minutes, the man finally stopped speaking. More wine was poured and dinner was served. Rare prime rib and baked potatoes were distributed quickly, as if the waiters had had the plates ready for quite some time.
Although the meal wasn't piping hot, and the meat was rarer than she liked it, Brooke Anne dived in with gusto. She was hungry and restless and feeling very confused by her date's abrupt change in attitude. So far, the only thing Morgan had said to her during dinner was "Looks good, doesn't it?"
But the wine must've given Cassie a much-needed conversational boost. She chattered away to Brooke Anne about Morgan's stellar career and his former girlfriend, Sheri, who worked as a representative for one of the product lines Royal Hotels employed.
Brooke Anne couldn't help being interested in the woman from his past. "What's she like?"
"Oh, she's terrific," Cassie said with glee. "I've known her forever. We were in the same sorority."
"You went to college together?"
"We went to the same college," Cassie hedged, making Brooke Anne wonder if perhaps the two of them had attended at different times.
"How did Morgan and Sheri meet?"
"They knew each other through work...but I have to admit I'm the one who formally introduced them," Cassie stated proudly. "They're two of a kind, you know."
"How is that?"
"They both like the same things - power, money and really expensive cars."
Brooke Anne began to laugh, then realized Cassie was serious. "You sound like you know them well."
Cassie glanced at her husband, and Brooke Anne spied a brief flash of remorse in her eyes. "I know what it's like to want those things," Cassie admitted. "Growing up, that's all I dreamed about"
Ah. So Cassie had a vulnerable spot. "I know a thing or two about dreams," Brooke Anne volunteered. "Growing up, I wouldn't wait to be independent. It was a great day in my life when I started my own business."
Cassie smiled, though a hint of bitterness clouded her features. "I can only imagine."
Well, that took care of that conversational thread. Returning to Morgan, she asked, "So, what happened between them? Morgan told me they broke up a while ago, that they were just friends."
"That was the rumor, but I think that Sheri was just waiting for Morgan to come to his senses." She shrugged. "But then again, you're here and she isn't, so who knows what is really going on between the two of them?"
Thankfully, Cassie's husband asked her a question, and Brooke Anne was saved from further investigating the inner workings of Morgan's relationship with his ex-girlfriend.
She laid her fork carefully on her plate and peeked at Morgan again. He was sipping wine and appeared to be in thought. Brooke Anne wondered what he was thinking about. Doubts surfaced. Had their kiss, in fact, meant nothing to him? Had his hints of furthering their relationship been just talk?
&
nbsp; He met her gaze and she felt a quick stab of guilt. Probably, rule number one in being a date for hire was not to gossip about the man with the paycheck.
Rule number two was probably to stay peppy and pleasant. "How's your dinner? Was your prime rib good?" she asked with false brightness.
Morgan tilted his head. "I could ask you the same question. We had the same meal," he teased gently.
She felt heat creep up her neck. Time to move on to another topic. "I was just thinking about Christmas. Have you started your shopping yet?"
His lips twitched. "Not yet. What about you?"
"I just have a couple more presents to go. I'm not sure I told you, but I dress up as an elf at Children's Hospital. I need to get a couple of games for the kids. And Barbies. There's an angel Barbie that's on every little girl's Christmas list."
"That sounds like fun. I can just see you shopping for those dolls. You know, I'd love to get involved with something like -" He stopped abruptly as his attention was drawn to the door. "Excuse me. There's someone I need to speak to."
With that, he got up and strode over to the front entrance, leaving Brooke Anne alone, feeling completely confused. The waiter came by again, picked up her half-eaten dinner and asked if she'd like dessert.
After nodding, she turned in her seat to see who had just appeared.
Someone tall, tanned and elegant. And she had a possessive hand on Morgan's biceps.
Inwardly, Brooke Anne groaned.
****
Chapter Ten
"What are you doing here, Sheri?" Morgan demanded. He clenched his hands and did his best to keep his expression neutral and composed - so he wouldn't look as if he was about to strangle her.
She beamed at him in triumph. "My plans changed suddenly, so I was able to come over and give you a little surprise!" She scanned the room as she dramatically slid off her fur coat, revealing a scarlet beaded gown underneath. The dress was form-fitting, its neckline low. A diamond-encrusted heart peeked out from her generous cleavage, beckoning others to get a closer look.
Sheri was the kind of woman who could scream for attention without uttering a word, and Morgan had usually been happy to answer her cries.
But at the moment, all he could do was wonder how to get rid of her without causing a scene.
It wasn't going to be easy; Sheri didn't take rejection lightly. He glanced over at Brooke Anne, who, to his relief, appeared oblivious to his absence. Again, Morgan was thankful for the many differences between the two women.
"Let's step over here and talk for a minute," he murmured.
But Sheri was already checking out the crowd. "Oh, I see Louise and Dan are here, and there's Bill. Have you talked to him about his contract yet?"
"No."
"What about Mr. Lancaster?" She fired off the question. "Any word about his deal with Emerson Paper? If he gets that account, things are going to be great for you. What do you think? How's he doing tonight? Is he in a good mood?"
Her questions came fast and furious, a sure sign that she was on party alert. Last year it had amused him, and he'd shared her belief that every minute at the ball should be used to make connections. He'd been impressed when she'd discussed her intentions to circulate at the party with all the strategy of a field commander. Now, however, he was desperately planning her retreat. "Listen, Sheri. I'm here with somebody else."
She stared at him blankly. "What?"
"I came with someone else. There's no place for you here. You need to go home."
She studied him, incredulous. "But I was your date. You wanted me to be here with you."
"You're remembering it wrong. We agreed to go together because I needed a date and you didn't have any other plans for tonight. Then, you canceled on me."
She didn't deny his words. "So I was replaced in forty-eight hours?"
Maybe it was because her voice had grown louder. Perhaps he just felt like being a jerk. Whatever the case, he couldn't stop himself from speaking frankly. "No. It only took an hour."
She raised her hand, and for a second he was sure she was going to slap him. "I don't know why you're telling me this right now," she snapped, her eyes instantly watering. "Today's been terrible, especially with everything going on with my dog and with work. And then I went to all the trouble of getting dressed up to be herewith you and...and..."
There'd been a time in his life when her act would have worked. He would've felt terrible for being so rude, and his heart would have gone out to her when he saw the tears begin to trickle down her face.
But not anymore. Now he knew her crying had as much to do with her genuine feelings as a soap star's tears did on TV. "Sheri, I've got to get back to my date, and you need to go home. Before you embarrass yourself."
"That sounds just like you, Morgan. So cold. So calculating. Always concerned with how things look. What people will think."
Her words hit close to home. Too close. She was right. His inability to relax his guard made him worry he was as cold and aloof as his parents.
It chilled him to hear it from Sheri, of all people.
Her manner became businesslike again. "So, who is she?" she asked, her shoulders stiffening.
"It doesn't matter."
Sheri's gaze panned the tables, looking for vacant chairs. "Is that her, in the black dress?"
"Sheri..."
"What? I don't even get to see who replaced me within an hour?" Turning toward their right, she motioned in Brooke Anne's direction. "What about that blonde? Is that her? She looks familiar. Where does she work?"
"For God's sake, Sheri!" he hissed.
But the tears were on again and her voice was carrying. Already she'd grabbed the waiters' attention. Morgan knew that if they stayed there another minute people would begin talking about the two of them- and about how he'd left his date at the table alone. With a shake of his head, he took Sheri's elbow and guided her out of the room.
He didn't even notice her triumphant glance at the crowd as they retreated to the hall.
Brooke Anne couldn't believe her eyes. Not only had Morgan practically ignored her during dinner, but now he'd left the room with another woman. This had to be an all-time dating low, even for hired dates.
What was she going to do if he didn't return? Get up and leave? Wait for him at the table until he decided to remember she was there? Mill around the room and try to look happy, even though she'd been jilted? Her head started to pound. She ate an extra big bite of her chocolate cheesecake for comfort.
"That was Sheri Vincent," Cassie said.
Like she needed this right now. Swallowing quickly, Brooke Anne turned to Cassie. "Oh, really?"
"They must've decided to give their relationship another go. Didn't she look stunning in that red gown?" Cassie gushed. "It takes a special person to pull off a dress like that."
Brooke Anne was wondering why a dress so skimpy didn't fall off. "It was very red, that's for sure."
"You should've seen them together last year. Morgan wore a dark bronze vest and Sheri had on a gold sequined gown. They looked like two people at the Oscars! What a striking couple they make."
"She is pretty."
"Did you notice the way Morgan took her arm when he pulled her out the door?" Cassie continued. "I bet he can't wait to get her alone. They must be getting back together right now."
The idea made Brooke Anne's stomach flutter with agitation. Cassie was probably right. And it was what she deserved, wasn't it? What had she been thinking, anyway? That she and Morgan were actually going to be a couple?
That all their differences were going to disappear? That it suddenly wasn't going to matter that tonight was like a fairytale to her, but gala evenings were a part of Morgan's life?
"I wonder what I should do," Brooke Anne muttered to herself.
Cassie must've heard her. Once again, her expression was cold and haughty. "There's no doubt in my mind that it would he best for everyone if you'd just leave," she said archly. "I mean, you wouldn't want to
spoil Morgan's career by staying where you aren't wanted, would you?"
The way she spoke, combined with her icy gaze, gave Brooke Anne a sick feeling of hopelessness.
"They'll be back any second," Cassie was saying. "If you're here, where is Sheri going to sit?"
Brooke Anne opened her mouth to protest but was cut off before she could utter a word.
"And the president's about to give his speech, too. You won't be able to get up while he's talking. If you stay, you'll cause a scene."
So many thoughts ran through her mind. Morgan, her promise to be his date for the whole evening, his words.. .her paycheck. "But -"
Cassie leaned in close and lowered her voice. "I don't know how to be any clearer, Brooke. You don't belong here. You need to leave."
"I can't just take off while Morgan's gone. What will he think?"
"He won't even notice you've left. You got a free dinner out of this - what more do you want?" The woman grabbed Brooke Anne's arm. "Oh, here comes Mr. Brownlee. If you're going to leave, you'd better go now. There -" Cassie pointed one crimson nail in the direction of a marked exit"- right out the backdoor. Hurry!"
Without further hesitation, Brooke Anne did just that. She scooped up her handbag and made her way as quickly as possible to the exit. Without looking back, she opened the door and pulled it shut behind her.
After asking a member of the waitstaff for the closest route to the parking garage, she turned the corner, then walked swiftly down two flights of stairs.
It was only when her feet touched the cold concrete floor of the parking garage that she realized she'd forgotten to put her shoes back on.
What could she do? It was twenty degrees out and those sandals were the reason she was even there. She had to at least try to retrieve them.
Stealthily, she sneaked back into the dining room, then noticed two things. First, the president was speaking and the huge room was as silent as an empty office building.
Second, Morgan's chair was still empty. Had he gone ahead and left with Sheri? Thank goodness she wasn't still sitting there by herself, waiting for him. That would have been extremely embarrassing.
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