The Perfect Proposal

by Rhonda Nelson

  Determined to salvage her Saturday, Annie shoved her hair out of her eyes and wobbled to the bathroom. Necessary business finished, she showered and tried to make herself semi-presentable. She should have taken painkillers before combing her hair, she decided, wincing with each rake of the brush. Good grief, how much had she had to drink last night?

  Too much, obviously. Hair secured in a clip and minimal makeup applied, Annie pulled on a T-shirt, slipped into a pair of shorts, then went and retrieved the paper. Coffee and paper in hand, she padded back to the living room and curled into the recliner. She unfurled the Journal, flipped to the Lifestyle section and…froze.

  It was her!

  And him!

  Them!

  The picture was grainy and at a bad angle, particularly for her, Annie noted, scrutinizing it more closely. Nevertheless, it was them. In the picture, the striking man was helping her into his car. Vaguely she remembered that. Her brow puckered. But why would anyone want a picture of them? The thought had no sooner flitted through her mind when she read the caption. Hightower Nabs a Southern Belle.

  Hightower? Annie’s heart began to race. Her palms slickened. Nausea welled in her throat and tickled her tonsils. Mitch Hightower? The soon-to-be bane of her existence?

  “Oh, no,” Annie groaned even as a sickening wave of adrenaline pounded through her veins. She simply couldn’t believe it. Was she ever going to have any good luck? Of all the men who might have driven her home, she had to climb into his car?

  Shock triggered another surge of panic. Heat climbed her neck. This morning she’d fancied herself being saved by a knight in shining armor, when in reality she’d let the devil drive her home! And to top it off, he’d seen her naked! Oh, Lord, what had she done? How could she have let something like this happen? she wondered morosely.

  Annie felt like kicking herself. Were it physically possible she might have tried. No wonder he’d looked familiar. Though they’d never met, she’d seen enough pictures of him—usually accompanied by a gorgeous model—in different celebrity magazines that she should have recognized him. If she hadn’t had so much to drink, she probably would have.

  Then a worse thought occurred to her. Annie stilled. Mitch would tell William. He’d have to explain the picture to his uncle. While it was true that Williams’ hearing had suffered over the past year, his eyesight was still quite good. He’d undoubtedly recognize her. Annie bit her bottom lip, worrying. Oh, that was not good. Not good at all, she thought as all the possible ramifications darted through her mind. A mental picture of her life being flushed down a giant commode flashed through her frenzied thoughts. A hysterical burst of laughter bubbled of her throat.

  Well, Annie thought, she couldn’t allow Mitch to unwittingly sabotage her case before she’d even been given the opportunity to present it. She wasn’t supposed to see William until their customary Sunday dinner tomorrow, but this was an emergency. He wouldn’t mind.

  Furthermore, she had to get to him before Mitch did.

  With that in mind, Annie fortified herself with three aspirin, changed clothes, then returned to the bathroom to give her hair and face another shot.

  It wouldn’t do to look hung-over when she planned to refute being drunk.

  Chapter Two

  “So glad you finally made it, Mitch,” Uncle Will told him, slapping his nephew on the back as they adjourned to the study. “What happened to you last night?” A mysterious twinkle lit the elder man’s eye, giving Mitch a brief pause.

  “Oh, I got sidetracked,” he said evasively, then moved to change the subject. A vision of an angelic woman with deep brown eyes, wild curly hair, and red lace flashed through his mind. He cleared his throat and pushed the image away. “How have you been feeling?”

  “Oh, well enough, I suppose.” Will strolled to the bar and began to put ice into a glass. “Care for anything to drink?

  Mitch shook his head. “Actually, I didn’t think you…” he trailed off, uncertain as how to reprimand his uncle for drinking liquor.

  William grinned. “It’s apple juice. Hardest thing I drink these days.”

  Mitch smiled, chagrined. “Oh. Sorry.”

  “No apology necessary,” William assured. A broad grin wreathed his wrinkled face. “Now, if you hadn’t said something, then I would have been offended.” His uncle gestured to a chair. “Sit down, sit down. You and I have a lot to discuss. But before we get into all of that I want to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Nick.” His uncle shook his gray head regretfully. “I know you boys were close. So sad when one dies young. The papers didn’t elaborate and the obit didn’t help. What happened?”

  “An aneurysm,” Mitch confided. One minute, Nick had been playing racquetball, the next…he was gone. Though Mitch had been with his friend at the time, it was still hard to believe that life’s flame could be extinguished so easily, especially for a man in the prime of health. Nick’s death had prompted a lot of introspection and was no small part of the reason Mitch had decided it was time to come home.

  William tsked. “So sad,” he repeated.

  Mitch drew in a deep breath. “Yes, well, it is. I don’t think that I’ve mentioned it, but that’s part of the reason I sold my half of Micronet to Alicia, Nick’s widow.” Mitch looked up just in time to catch a perplexed look on his uncle’s face. “It was just too hard to work there,” he explained. “Nick and I had an understanding. I designed the software, he handled the business end of things.” Mitch exhaled a long breath and reclined back in his chair. “I could have stuck it out, I suppose, but it would have never felt like my company. Does that make sense?”

  Looking little ill-at-ease, William cleared his throat. “Um, yes, I suppose it does.”

  “Well, at any rate, Hightower Advertising will never feel that way.” Mitch sighed, then smiled. “I’ll be great to be home.”

  “Uh, Mitch,” his uncle remarked hesitantly. “There’s something I have to tell you. And I don’t know quite how to begin.”

  Dread curdled in his stomach. “We’re broke,” Mitch stated flatly.

  William started. “God, no, boy! It’s not that.”

  Relieved, Mitch released a pent-up breath. “Then do we need capital? Don’t worry, I have enough to-“

  William shook his head. “No, no, um, nothing like that.” The elder man scratched his balding pate.

  Puzzled, Mitch frowned. “Well, what then?”

  William hesitated, then glanced at Mitch. “I’m not giving you the CEO position, Mitch. You’re going to have to earn it. I have another person in mind who is every bit as entitled as you are.”

  Mitch blinked. “Earn it?”

  His uncle nodded. “You’ve been gone a long time, boy. I can’t just hand it over to you. Surely you didn’t think that after five years you could walk in and claim a position that you didn’t want in the first place.”

  Actually, Mitch had thought just that. He frowned thoughtfully. “But why did you call me?”

  His uncle shrugged and exhaled a long sigh. “I wanted to give you a shot at it. After all, it is your heritage we’re talking about here.”

  “But —” The doorbell rang, cutting Mitch off mid-protest.

  “Hold that thought,” William said. “I’ll be right back. Dora’s off today.”

  Puzzled, Mitch frowned. His mind reeled. He’d have to earn back his heritage? The company which had been in the family for more than fifty years? Dumbfounded, he shook his head. But it didn’t make sense. Briefly he wondered if perhaps his uncle had become senile. He’d spoken with him at least twice a month, sometimes more over the past few years. William had always seemed lucid, but…

  Who could possibly be more entitled to his family’s company than himself?

  “Mitch,” William announced. “I’d like you to meet Annie Witherspoon—your competition.”

  Distracted, Mitch looked up-into the deep brown eyes that had haunted his dreams last night. He blinked, then did a double take. But how? But why? What was sh
e doing here? Slowly his uncle’s last statement filtered through his fragmented thoughts. Annie Witherspoon? Competition? Well, I’ll be damned, he thought. Apparently she was thinking along similar lines, given the brittle smile and death-ray glare she’d aimed in his direction.

  Producing his own humorless grin, he stood and extended his hand. “Ms. Witherspoon.”

  Her small hand shook his. Mitch ignored the current of awareness that buzzed through him at the brief contact. “Mr. Hightower, I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  So that was the way she wanted to play it. Repressing a grin, Mitch decided otherwise. He arched a confused brow. “Haven’t we met somewhere before?” he queried innocently.

  Fire sparked in her eyes. “No, I don’t think that that we have.”

  “Funny,” Mitch mused, purposely needling her. “You look awfully familiar.” He gave her a lingering look and subtly appraised her from head to toe. His survey had the desired effect, he noted, as he watched her face color prettily. “Are you absolutely certain we haven’t met?”

  “Quite certain,” she snapped.

  “Well, now,” William remarked, seemingly oblivious to the tension. “I’d planned to discuss this with the two of you tomorrow, but since you’re both here now, what do you say we get down to business?”

  Annie nodded and gave William a genuine smile. For an insane instant, Mitch felt almost jealous. “I’m agreeable to that, Will.” Her brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “Certainly,” he assured her. He ruffled her ponytail, eliciting another affectionate grin. “You worry too much. What about you, Mitch?” his uncle asked. “Anything important on your calendar today?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait,” he replied.

  His uncle nodded approvingly, then lowered himself into the tufted leather seat behind his desk. Annie and Mitch covertly glowered at each other and took the wing chairs on the opposite side.

  William steepled his fingers and began. “As you both know, I’ve been in poor health since last year. Running Hightower Advertising has been a rewarding career and I have enjoyed every minute of it.” He smiled warmly. “However, the time has come for me to step aside. If I’m going to enjoy my golden years, I’d better get started.” He sighed. “When I made up my mind that it was time to retire, naturally my first thought was of my replacement—and there is the crux of my problem. This is a family owned and operated business, always has been. “ He looked at Mitch. “But Mitch, you’ve never really showed any interest in the firm, having made your own fortune in computers.” Mitch shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He recognized the truth in that statement. “However,” William continued, “it would not be fair to simply exclude you from the opportunity.”

  Then he gave Annie an affectionate look. “No more than it would be fair to exclude Annie. She’s been a faithful and loyal employee, she knows this company like the back of her hand, and she loves it as I do. I have absolutely no doubt at all about her ability to run Hightower Advertising. Furthermore, she’s very dear to me. She and I are very close, and quite frankly, I think of her as the daughter I never had.” He sighed regretfully. “So you see my problem. Do I give the reins to Mitch, my blood, who now wishes to claim his heritage? Or do I hand them to Annie, my faithful friend and loyal employee who has been striving for this position since she signed on five years ago?”

  Did he want an answer? Mitch wondered. Or was this a rhetorical question? Frankly, he didn’t see the problem. It was simple enough if you asked him. He should run Hightower and Annie could keep the position she had now.

  “At any rate,” William continued. “This is how I’ve decided to handle it.”

  Mitch and Annie both leaned forward, awaiting Williams’s mandate.

  “The two of you will have to —” The phone rang, interrupting his announcement. Mitch sagged against his chair and exhaled mightily. Uncle William put the caller on hold. “Excuse me. I’ll be only a minute. I have to take this in the other room.” He got up and rounded the desk. “You two get to know each other. You’ll be working together soon.” With that cryptic comment, the old man exited the study.

  Annie sprang from her chair with an agility Mitch would have thought her capable of after last night and watched as she began to rifle through the paper stacked on William’s desk.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

  Annie stopped to give him a nasty look. “Looking for his newspaper. Have you seen it? Oh, God, I hope he hasn’t seen it yet.”

  Mitch frowned. “No. Why? Seen what?”

  “The picture, you moron,” she hissed. “There a picture of us leaving the hotel.”

  Mitch wondered why she cared whether William saw a photo or not. What difference did it make? Suddenly, a sly smile stole across his face as realization dawned. His gaze cut to her. Uncle William obviously knew nothing about her Friday night, hit-the-sauce personality. Mitch swiftly vacated his own chair and added his efforts to the search.

  Annie paused and shot him a suspicious look. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you,” Mitch said smoothly. “By the way, you’re welcome.”

  Her brow puckered in confusion. “I’m welcome for what?”

  “For nothing,” Mitch said heatedly, glaring at her from across the desk. “That was your cue to thank me for seeing you home last night.”

  Her ponytail bobbed as she harrumphed. “Like I’m going to thank you for stripping my clothes off. That wasn’t necessary. What are you,” she asked distractedly, “some kind of pervert?” Annie continued her frantic searching, oblivious to his indignation.

  Pervert? For the first time in his life, a woman had rendered him speechless. He’d been accused of being several things, but never in his life had he been accused of being some sort of sexual deviant.

  “Look, lady,” Mitch growled. “You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before.” Though he’d never seen better, but he wouldn’t tell her that. “Besides, it was either remove the dress, or let you steep in beer all night. I was trying to be thoughtful,” he ground out.

  Briefly, she abandoned her search. A chagrined look crossed her pretty face so quickly that Mitch was inclined to believe he’d imagined it. “All right,” she said, with a beleaguered sigh. “Thank you for taking me home. I really do appreciate it.”

  “Good,” Mitch commented, still irritated at her blasé attitude. “Most drunks don’t value a favor.”

  Her gaze collided with his. “I’m not a drunk,” she hissed hotly.

  Mitch suppressed a disbelieving grin and shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  Annie stormed around the desk until she stood toe to toe with him. She had to tilt her head back to look at him in the eye and he could tell that having to do so annoyed her no end. Oddly, he found that arousing. “Read my lips. I am not a drunk.”

  “Step seven,” Mitch told her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Denial.”

  Annie set her hands on her hips. “Neither am I in denial. Until last night, I haven’t had more than a glass of wine since I graduated from college. Last night was just…” She ducked her head, and for a moment Mitch feared she might cry again. At last, she looked back up and her gaze searched his. “Look, could we keep last night strictly between us? It’s really embarrassing, and I’d like to forget it. Okay?”

  She’d done it again, Mitch thought. Just like last night, she’d mesmerized him with those amazing eyes. When he’d finally gotten her home last night, he’d had to carry her in. She’d fallen asleep on the drive over. Rather than tempt himself by taking her to her bedroom, he’d deposited her on the couch. Her dress had been soaked through with beer, undoubtedly from her altercation with Dick.

  True, he could have left in the dress, but it would have been uncomfortable. So he hadn’t. He’d pulled the zipper down, revealing a little of her at a time. He’d been hard and aching by the time he’d gotten to the small of her back. And that red la
ce. Mitch pulled in a slow breath.

  Nevertheless, he’d never had a problem attracting the opposite sex and he damn sure wouldn’t have taken advantage of her. He’d removed the garment, put on a nearby chair, then covered her with an afghan he’d found on the couch. It was all harmless, really.

  Except for the way he’d wanted to kiss her. And more. That he could remember, he’d never watched another person sleep before, and Annie Witherspoon was especially beautiful in repose. Those wild curls fanned over the pillow, long lashes casting shadowed crescents on her cheeks. Memory painted a vivid picture which could stir him now. Unable to help himself, he’d leaned over and brushed a kiss on her smooth forehead. She’d made a soft, unintelligible sound that had tugged at something deep inside him.

  And that had been his cue to get out. Mitch had left as though the hounds of hell were at his heels. As he had the overwhelming urge to do now.

  “Okay,” he finally agreed. “I won’t say a word.”

  She breathed a sigh of infinite relief. “Thank you.”

  Grinning broadly, William strolled back into the room. “Nice to see you two kids getting along. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. I was about to lay the ground rules of Operation CEO.” He smiled at his own joke. When neither Mitch nor Annie returned his grin, he cleared his throat. “Okay, well. This is how we’re going to settle it. Beginning Monday, the two of you will be in competition for the Winning Weiner campaign.”

  Beside him, Annie made a little choking sound. An odd sense of foreboding settled over Mitch.

  “Mitch, we’ve handled several campaigns for Winning Weiner’s subsidiaries. Annie has worked with the CEO of Winning Meats, Inc. She’ll fill you in on all the details. As it happens, this is the first time we’ve been given the opportunity to handle an account of this magnitude. Whoever successfully lands this account, becomes my replacement.” William smiled, thoroughly please with himself.

  Shock, disbelief, anger, then finally resignation swept through Mitch. Annie sat completely still and mute beside him. Her sudden silence told him one of two things. Either she thought she had this silly competition in the bag, or she knew William’s plan was so horrible that she couldn’t come up with a single response. Something told Mitch it was the latter.