Her Frog Prince

by Shirley Jump

  "That's not it. This auction means a great deal to me. It's important to my business. I have to focus on that. Nothing else."

  He took a step closer, his eyes connecting with hers. "You mean my mother's money is important to your business."

  She blinked. "Your…your mother?"

  Now he turned away, searching the horizon. "Victoria Catherine Smith is my mother."

  "You never told me."

  "I don't exactly go around touting my lineage. I'd rather wear squids on my shirts than the Smith family crest." He sounded disgusted when he said it, as if being a part of that family was akin to being shark bait.

  The boat had finally stopped. A couple of crew members tied the ropes, then slid the gangplank onto the dock. The trip was over. There was no reason to stay onboard anymore.

  "If you're one of the Smiths, why do you need me for a makeover? You could buy one anywhere. In fact, you could buy anything you wanted."

  "It doesn't work that way for me."

  She let out a gust and turned away. "You gave me this big story about being low on cash. Even had the look down with the torn shorts and floppy sandals." She shook her head. "But that's not who you really are."

  "You don't understand, Parris."

  "Oh, I understand perfectly. You don't want a makeover. Please, I'm not that stupid. If you were going to use me, try to be more creative next time."

  He was just like all the rest of them. Tell her what she wanted to hear, while lying behind her back about who he really was.

  "I thought you were someone else today," she said, cutting him off before he could respond. "But you're a lot like those whales. What you see on the surface is only a teeny bit of the truth of what's below. It seems you aren't at all what you project, Bradford Smith." She turned and stalked off the boat.

  Or tried to. The three-inch Ralph Lauren heels refused to cooperate with the gangplank. Finally Parris ripped them off and threw them into the water, finishing her exit barefoot.

  Damn that Brad Smith. Every time she was around him, he cost her a pair of shoes.

  Merry smiled to herself and slipped her magic cell phone back into the pocket of her jacket. The little touch with the whale had been perfect. Everything was on the right track with Parris and Brad.

  Well, except for that minor disagreement they'd had at the end of the trip. Why did Brad have to go and tell her he was related to that haughty Victoria Catherine Smith anyway? Cockles and grouse, if she could just get these couples to act the way she wanted them to, they'd fall in love a lot faster and her time as an old lady would be over before she knew it.

  "What are you doing, Merry?" Her godmother, Lilith, had come up behind her, silent as a cat.

  Merry forced herself not to jump and give Lilith the satisfaction of knowing she'd had the upper hand in sneakability. "Just admiring the view."

  "Not working any magic, are you?"

  "Me? Why, no." A little lie wasn't bad. "How's the latest matchmaking effort going?"

  "Oh, just perfect," Merry said. Another lie, but soon, she was sure, everything would work out. All Brad and Parris needed was more time together. More of those magical moments.

  "If I ever express interest in a woman again, chop me up and throw me overboard as shark bait," Brad said to Jerry the next morning.

  "Oh, please. She was very nice and gorgeous. You got something against that?"

  "Appearances can be deceiving," Brad said. He refused to dwell on the thought that he was repeating Parris's own words. She'd called him on the same thing, but she was wrong. He was exactly what he appeared to be.

  No matter what she said.

  Jerry ran a hand through his unruly thatch of red hair. "Maybe you're the one being difficult?"

  Brad scowled. "Aren't you supposed to be entering the data from yesterday into our charts?"

  "It can wait until later." Jerry refilled his endless coffee mug and pulled up a stool to the work desk. "You've got a hot, sexy woman who has the legs of a goddess interested in you and you're complaining. You're either mentally deranged or you've been spending too much time on the ocean. All that salt is rotting your brain."

  "She's pretty but she drives me nuts."

  Jerry laughed. "Those are the best kind of women. They keep you on your toes."

  Brad shook his head. "She's exactly the wrong kind of woman for me."

  "And why is that? You have something against the smart, pretty ones?"

  "She's handling my mother's auction."

  "Yeah, so?"

  "So, that makes her off-limits."

  Jerry let out a sigh. "I don't get you. If they ever make Castaway, the Sequel, I'll tell them to call you for the starring role as the island hermit."

  "I'm not that bad."

  "Oh yeah? Ever since you broke things off with Susan two years ago, you've been so antiwomen, I'd think you were heading for a monastery."

  Brad put up his hands. "No chance of that."

  "Well then I suggest you get yourself into the shower and over to the resort. I hear there's a party tonight."

  "There's a party there every night. It's a resort, for God's sake."

  "All the more reason to head over there before some other guy starts talking up Parris over the piňa coladas."

  "I'm not a guest."

  "You're a Smith. You could get in just by dropping your own name."

  "You know how I feel about that."

  "Yeah, yeah. And sometimes being the son of a wealthy family comes in handy." Jerry toyed with his cup. "Though why you won't use that name for your research funding, I'll never know," he added in a low voice. "A man with principles can be such a pain in the butt."

  It was ground they'd covered a hundred times. Jerry didn't understand the restrictions of the Smith name. Brad's inheritance from his father was tied up in conditions. Conditions that involved a corporate life, answering to a board of directors, not following his own path.

  In his will, Bradford Smith, Sr. had made his wishes clear. Either his son took his place at the helm of the family business or he didn't get a dime.

  The only way out of the codicil was if Brad's mother released him from his family business obligations. Which would mean she supported his marine biology dream—something she clearly didn't.

  It didn't matter. Brad was a grown man. He didn't go around begging for family funds.

  He'd make his own way, come hell or high water. Right now, unfortunately, it was low tide in his bank account.

  Brad took in a breath and held it as if he could hold back the words he'd been putting off saying. "Jerry, we're tapped out. That whaling trip took most of the rest of the research funds."

  "Uh-huh." Jerry had gone back to working at the computer, his shoulders hunched over the desk.

  "What I'm saying is, I don't have any more money to pay you after this week."

  "Uh-huh." Jerry scanned down the log, entered a few more figures.

  Brad let out a sigh. "Jerry, you're fired."

  "Uh-huh." His fingers kept tapping at the keys.

  Brad crossed to the computer and put a hand on the keyboard, stilling Jerry's hands. "Did you hear me?"

  "Yep. You can't pay me. I'm fired. Yada, yada." Jerry pushed Brad's hand away. "Now can I get back to work?"

  "I'm serious, Jerry. No money, no pay. For you or for me."

  Jerry stopped typing and looked up at Brad. "I knew this was coming."

  "I've always been open with you about the funding."

  "So I put a little aside for a rainy day." Jerry peered past Brad, looking out the window at the setting sun and clear, slightly breezy evening outside. "Yep, looks like a stormy one to me. So, I'm staying."

  "I can't let you do that."

  "Then you better get to the gym and bulk up because you're going to have to drag me out of here. And I've had one too many pepperoni pizzas for you to get rid of me that easily." He went back to work.

  Brad smiled and shook his head. "But what if I don't get the money from the rese
arch foundation?"

  "You will. You've got some great research here. You found a new species of squid last month. Granted, it wasn't a giant squid, but it showed there are undiscovered cephalopods in the ocean. Plus, squid still have so many things to teach scientists about how their light-emitting organs work and whether the ammonium ions in their tissues can be used in practical settings." Jerry's eyes grew wide with excitement, as they always did when he started to talk about work. "That alone merits more research. You've discovered a lot here. I know you'll get the money."

  Good thing Jerry sounded confident, because Brad sure as hell didn't feel confident.

  And now Jerry was investing in him, too. Putting all his eggs in a basket that might have a hole in the bottom. Brad had two options—go back to being Bradford Smith and lose everything he'd worked for but gain money, or find a way to impress the hell out of the research foundation.

  For that, he needed stellar research. Impeccable credentials.

  And Parris Hammond.

  Chapter Five

  When Parris saw who was at her door, she broke into a run and nearly toppled her visitor with a grateful hug. "It's about damn time you showed up."

  "Hey, what kind of greeting is that for your sister?" Jackie asked.

  "You deserted me." Parris put a hand on her hip.

  "I got married, Parris. I was on my honeymoon."

  "Okay, you're excused." Parris grinned.

  Jackie crossed into the living room of Parris's suite and flopped onto the couch. "The flight seemed so long. I already miss Steven and Suzy." Her hand lingered over the phone on the end table, as if she could connect with her new husband and daughter by touching the device. "Oh, maybe I should call them."

  "You need to help me with the auction. We only have three days, you know, and everything is going down the drain…and then some."

  "Like what?"

  Parris sighed, took a seat on the arm of the opposite chair and opened her planner. "I sent the press release out in plenty of time, but now the media is saying they don't think they'll cover it because it's not 'newsworthy.'"

  "What angle did you use?"

  "Angle? I just said we were hosting an auction here."

  "Easy fix. I'll fax over a letter and make a few phone calls to the media, stressing the benefits of the new aquarium and the undersea tank it will feature, giving people a rare up-close glimpse at those bioluminescent things."

  A ten-pound load floated off Parris's shoulders. Jackie was here and already things were slipping into place. "Good. That's one battle done. I took care of the other one, I think. The programs you had designed didn't come back from the printer right. They mixed up the file somehow and ended up printing them backward. Then they told me it would take three days to get it corrected, as if it was my fault they messed up. Well, you know me. I don't stand for retailer errors," Parris said, laughing.

  Jackie chuckled. "That's one thing you're definitely an ace at—taking care of returns and bargain shopping. I once saw you handle an obnoxious salesperson at Bloomingdale's so well the store was ready to hand you a management position and a permanent discount on Prada."

  Parris didn't want to feel disappointed by Jackie's compliment, but she did. She wanted to be known for much more than that…but what? Where had she truly proved herself thus far? She'd hoped she could be a success with the auction while Jackie was away, but nothing seemed to be going right. "That's not much of a talent, you know. You can't build a career on being able to exchange petites for smalls and making sure you're not overcharged."

  "Oh yeah?" Jackie gestured at her sister. "What do you think we're doing here?"

  Parris shrugged. "This is different."

  "Uh-huh. Tell me what you did about the brochures then, shopping goddess." Jackie smiled at her sister, clearly more relaxed now that her trip was over. She kicked off one shoe and drew her leg up onto the sofa.

  "I ran over to the mainland and got another print shop to do them overnight in exchange for an ad for their business on the back. They even took ten percent off the cost and donated it back to the aquarium fund."

  Jackie blinked. "That's great, Parris. Wonderful idea."

  "Idea? It was a screwup. All I did was scramble to get it fixed."

  Jackie laughed. "All you did, big sister, was pull off a miracle. You can handle more of this than you think. See? This is exactly what I was talking about. Heck, you don't even need me."

  Those words filled Parris with a fear she didn't want to describe. She couldn't do this, no matter how well Jackie thought she could return a pair of pumps. And she was tired of trying to prove she could. Getting a little discount on a print job didn't demonstrate any kind of business skills.

  Life had been a lot easier when all she'd had to worry about was being Parris Hammond, daughter of Jeffrey Hammond and queen of the society party circuit. No one had expected anything of her but a stunning outfit and sparkling small talk. And now with Jackie, the capable one, here, Parris suddenly felt inadequate.

  "You're just saying that because you don't want to do your share." Parris stood. "I'm sick and tired of this whole thing. Fighting couples. Reluctant media. Picky caterers." She dropped the planner into Jackie's lap. "You're here, so now it's your turn."

  "You can't just dump this in my lap, Parris. It's your business, too. Dad—"

  "If Dad wanted us to succeed so badly with this, he should have given us some kind of direction. He dumped it on us, you dumped it on me. Now I'm dumping it on you." Parris moved toward the door. "And going for a walk."

  Parris had run out of the room so fast she was still wearing the tank and shorts she'd changed into after returning from the whaleboat ride. Her hair, damp from her shower, hung against her back like a cooling curtain in the humid evening air.

  In the sand, her sandals were more bother than anything so she kicked them off, carrying them in one hand as she made her way down the path and to the beach. She slumped onto the sand a few feet from shore. She felt bad about the way she'd handled things with Jackie and she vowed to apologize. She and Jackie had just started having a real relationship this summer and Parris didn't want to jeopardize that. It was nice, having a sister.

  They'd lived apart for most of their lives because they came from two of Jeffrey Hammond's many marriages. Their father had never been much for family. It had been easier to stay distant than to try to build a bridge. But now their father had forced them into a relationship by thrusting the business into their hands, bringing the two sisters together again. But that didn't change the fact that her father had been crazy for thinking Parris, of all people, could handle running a business. That was a choice akin to counting on Morticia Addams to decorate the White House.

  She'd barely handled her own life up to this point. She hadn't been able to contain the Phipps-Stover situation. She'd messed up the public relations campaign. Then, on top of all of that, she'd missed the Kingmans today and undoubtedly screwed up that donation, too. Put it in her hands and the whole thing went to pot. "I can't do this. I can't do any of it. What was Dad thinking?"

  Parris draped her arms over her knees and buried her head between them. She'd have a damned fine pity party and then worry about when—or even if— she'd return to the resort and all the problems waiting for her there.

  The auction was going to be a failure. They'd finally found enough donors for the items they needed, but everything else seemed to be going wrong. Maybe Jackie would be able to resurrect it and pull everything off.

  "The ocean is a lot prettier when you actually look at it."

  Parris jerked her head up. Brad Smith stood beside her in a short-sleeved light blue shirt and tan shorts.

  From this angle, his legs looked longer, his shoulders broader. For a second, she thought about burying her head against his chest and letting him carry her worries for a while.

  Instead, she cleared her throat. She was Parris Hammond. And Parris Hammond didn't rely on men.

  Ever. Especially not one
who turned out to be the exact opposite of who she thought he was.

  "I've been here for several weeks," she said. "The ocean is the same as it was when I first arrived."

  "It changes every day. Every minute, in fact."

  "It's water. It's blue. It comes in, it goes out. That's it."

  "You've been spending too much time in malls."

  She gave him a sour look. "And you've been spending too much time playing 'Bash the Debutante'."

  He lowered to his knees. "That came out wrong. What I meant is most people take nature for granted. To you, it never changes because you only see it from far away."

  "In case you haven't noticed, I'm sitting on the sand." She picked up a handful and let it sift through her fingers, then waved toward the water. "The ocean is eight feet away. That's as close up as you can get."

  "You can get much closer, if you want to." His gaze met hers and she knew he wasn't just talking about their proximity to salted H2O.

  He meant another kind of close. Another ebb and flow, another want and need.

  She swallowed, her breath tight in her throat. She didn't want Brad to kiss her. She didn't want him to get any closer. She didn't want to trust him, to rely on him, heck, to even like him.

  But she did.

  Her focus went to his mouth. His lips curved into a half smile, one that she could feel reflected on her own face. Unbidden, her tongue slipped along her upper lip, as if her body was sending signals that her mind refused to acknowledge.

  She didn't want—

  But, oh, how she did.

  "Why aren't you inside at the party?" he asked.

  "I wasn't in a party mood."

  "Then I have the perfect antidote." Brad put out his hand to her and she took it, forgetting what she had resolved just hours earlier, drawn by hormones that didn't care what her common sense had to say.

  "Come on. I want to show you something," he said.

  "I should—" Should what? There was nothing waiting for her now. She'd left Jackie with everything, at least for now. For the second time today, Parris was free of the auction. Of responsibilities. Of her schedule. She didn't have a purse, a cell phone, or a personal digital assistant with her.