by Olivia Miles
Charlotte looked down at her notes, hoping her expression gave nothing away. That was another piece of advice that Kate had given her. The client was always right. Even when they were dead wrong. “Well, this information is a great starting point, but were there any questions you had for me?”
She waited, knowing he wouldn’t ask about fees—for a party of this level of extravagance, thrown together on such a short time frame, budget would not be a factor. Besides, Greg seemed to have far more on his mind than the planning of this party. It was a nuisance to him, she could tell. A task he wanted to outsource, something he didn’t want to be bothered with. Something he would hand over to someone he could trust to handle it. Kate would have called him a dream client, a client with big pockets who didn’t hover or micromanage. The realization made Charlotte’s heart begin to race. She couldn’t let this slip through her fingers.
She held her breath, feeling uneasy as she realized he was still staring at her. Oh, God. Was he really considering not hiring her? Had she messed up, been too late? Had she been wrong to inform him a party of this size usually required months of planning, not weeks? Did she look as inexperienced as she sort of was?
She thought of Kate, of how miserable it would feel to let her down again, to see the disappointment in her eyes. Her sister had taken her under her wing, despite their tainted history, and now she was finally in a position to make things up to her, to prove to her that she had turned her life around. But that wasn’t all that was on her mind. Selfishly, she couldn’t stop thinking of the fee for this type of party, the commission she could collect, the bills she could finally pay…
She stared back at Greg, arranging her features in a calm expression with a gentle tilt of her head, hoping she didn’t look as desperate as she felt, waiting for him to give a response.
“Just one question, actually,” he said, leaning back in his chair and tenting his fingers thoughtfully.
“Yes?” she managed.
“Tell me,” he said. “Are you by any chance, single?”
* * *
As soon as the question slipped from his lips, Greg knew he had made a mistake. He’d sent her the wrong message, indicated that he was interested in her, when he most certainly was not. He wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend right now. He supposed, he thought humorlessly, rubbing a hand over his jaw and a day’s worth of stubble, he was in the market for a fiancée. Or someone to at least play the part.
Charlotte’s sharp green eyes widened, and with a flicker of amusement, Greg noticed she was wearing mascara on only one eye. “Are you asking me on a date?” It was more of an accusation than a question.
“Not exactly,” he began, and then stopped when he saw the flush of pink rise up her cheeks. He opened his mouth to explain, but Charlotte pressed her lips together, giving him a hard look. “I’m sorry. You’re probably involved with someone.”
“I’m here to plan your party, not discuss my personal life.”
He watched her carefully, suddenly finding her personal life forefront on his mind. There was something about her that intrigued him. Nervous, he realized, watching her eyes dart from him to the window and back again. For some reason, she was nervous, and something told him it wasn’t because he’d inquired into her relationship status.
He leaned his jaw into his hand, listening to the sound of her heel tapping against the wood floor. She toyed with the ballpoint pen in her hand, drawing his attention to the chipped purple paint on her nails.
He felt himself smile. None of the women he’d dated in Boston would have even walked their dogs without a fresh manicure or perfectly applied face.
“I wasn’t clear,” he said. “I’m not looking for anything romantic.”
Her eyes flashed, telling him he’d misspoken again. “And just what are you looking for then? A one-night stand? A good-time girl to keep you company during your stay in Misty Point?”
“I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood,” he said, frowning.
“Oh, I don’t believe I have.” She shook her head as she reached for her handbag.
“Please,” he said, holding up his hand as she started to stand. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I can explain.”
After a significant hesitation, she sat back down, her eyes hooded and entirely unimpressed. “Go on.”
He cleared his throat, suddenly realizing how ridiculous this was. He wondered if there was another way around this, if he might ring up one of his female friends back in the city, but knowing them their social calendars would be booked through the New Year, and too many of them had started calling to check if he was interested in “lunch” or “drinks” once he and Rebecca called things off anyway. He wasn’t interested now any more than he’d been interested then.
Right. Better to keep this strictly professional. No personal connection at all. No false pretenses. No one would get hurt.
“It would seem I’m in need of a date for the party.” There. He’d said it.
Her expression gave nothing away. Finally, she spoke. “And you thought I could be your date?”
Well, when you put it like that…“Something like that.”
“I’m sure a guy like you has no problems finding a date.”
“You sound like you’ve already got me figured out,” he said mildly, but he struggled not to frown.
“I know your type,” she said with a shrug.
He raised his eyebrows. “My type?”
She gave him a withering smile and hooked her bag over her shoulder. “Sorry, but I work for an event planning company, not an escort service.”
“I don’t need an escort. Just a date.”
“As you said,” she remarked. “So why me?”
“Well, you’d already be at the party. And you seem nice…”
“Nice?” She snorted. “That the best you can do?”
“And…normal.”
Here she grinned a little. “You really know how to charm the ladies. Now I see why you’re in need of a date.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“No. Sorry.” She pinched her lips, as if that was that.
“Well, if you change your mind—”
“I won’t.” She stood once more, shutting down the conversation.
He stood, feeling like an ass. “I shouldn’t have asked—”
He expected her to nod, to say something rude, to turn on her heel and walk out the door without another glance his way. Instead, a shadow of something close to fear flickered over her face. She glanced down to the notes for the party he’d printed, bringing her hand close to the papers on the desk.
He pulled out a business card and pressed it into her palm. “In case you change your mind.” He led her back into the hall and opened the front door, allowing a gust of winter wind to fill the room. “Well, thank you for coming by.”
She hesitated again, and then, with a simple goodbye, walked through the door and out into the cold December afternoon, leaving Greg standing in the hall, no better off than where he’d started the day.
Chapter Six
Kate was in her office when Charlotte walked in twenty minutes later, still reeling from the audacity of that man. The nerve! The arrogance! The…the gall! She dropped onto the pale-blue tufted satin visitor chair across from her sister’s desk and dropped her bag to the floor.
“How was the meeting?” Kate asked hopefully, closing her laptop to give Charlotte her full attention.
“Oh!” Charlotte crossed her arms tightly across her chest, her eyes blaring a hole in the floral pattern of the soft gray area rug beneath her feet as she recalled her meeting with Gregory Frost. What a cocky bastard. She’d gone there to work, to put forth a respectable effort, and all he’d wanted to do was play, have a little fun with her. Well, she was damn sick of being a passing amusement to the likes of him. Just because she was a townie didn’t make her a port of call.
“Charlotte?” Her sister’s tone had turned worried. “Is this about Mom and Dad? I know. I keep telling
myself that this is just temporary, but, well, it’s weird to think of someone else living in our house. Still, I guess we’re adults now. And it is only temporary.”
Charlotte eyed her sister. She could speak for herself. Kate had her life together, a fiancé, a dog, a house of her own. But then, Charlotte had a child. A child who depended on her for so much more than she could have prepared herself for.
“It’s not about Mom and Dad,” Charlotte said. Well, maybe it was, a little bit. After all, if she could have moved back home for a while, she wouldn’t have to worry about stretching her next paycheck or getting her landlord off her back. She wouldn’t be thinking of Jake again, which she had, the entire drive here, and how much easier her life would be if he would just own up, take responsibility, share the duties of parenthood. She opened her mouth to explain what had happened, how she had let an event for Frost Greeting Cards slip away, but the worried look on Kate’s face stopped her.
Kate had given her this meeting so Charlotte could help, not to add to her sister’s stress level. What good would complaining do? Now, when it was supposed to be such a special time for her sister? A time she deserved, after Charlotte had ruined her first go-round.
“You seem distressed,” Kate observed, and Charlotte nodded gratefully, sitting straighter in her chair as she steeled herself for the moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but Kate pulled a sympathetic face. “I suppose you’ve seen the paper, then.”
Charlotte frowned. “The paper?”
Kate raised her eyebrows and pulled the Misty Point Gazette from the top of a stack of papers. Charlotte knew her sister made it a point to read the society column each Sunday, scouring for business opportunities in the forms of engagement parties or weddings, or even silver anniversary celebrations. Now she flipped through the pages, stopping halfway through. After a slight hesitation, she turned the paper and set it on the desk. “Well, you were bound to find out anyway.” She sighed.
Curious, Charlotte leaned forward, her eyes barely scanning the newsprint before her heart dropped into her stomach. She stared at the center image, too stunned to speak. There he was. The man who had ruined her life, or come damn close to it, smiling back at her—smirking, really—just as handsome as ever. Beside him was a blonde Charlotte had never seen before, her grin syrupy, boasting a dimple on each cheek, her arm possessively wrapped around Jake’s waist, calculated, no doubt, to show off the ridiculous rock on her ring finger.
Jake Lambert—Audrey’s father—was getting married.
“I wasn’t sure if you knew,” Kate hedged.
“No,” Charlotte murmured. But then, she would be the last to know, wouldn’t she? And it certainly wouldn’t be directly from the source. She hadn’t seen Jake since before Audrey was born, and any attempts to get through to him had resulted in voice mails left unreturned. He couldn’t even be bothered with his own child; he hardly felt he owed her any explanation when it came to the rest of his personal life.
“I’m sorry,” Kate said quietly.
“Are you all right?” Charlotte asked her sister, nervous to tread on such a touchy topic, but Kate just smiled sadly in return.
“I’ve moved on, and for the better. Though I have to admit I was surprised…” The space between Kate’s eyebrows pinched with concern. “Are you okay?”
“What? Of course!” Charlotte’s voice was alarmingly shrill. She balled a fist, wishing her heart wasn’t aching, that she didn’t feel like she might burst into tears. Quickly she pulled up every horrible, terrible memory of Jake (which wasn’t hard to do), settling miserably on the last time she’d seen him, when he wouldn’t even meet her eye as he wrote her a check for ten grand, as if by not looking at her made her—and the baby growing inside her—somehow less real. “The guy’s a snake, Kate. We both know that.”
She pulled back from the desk, forcing a bright smile that felt frozen on her face, hating the awkward tension laced with pity she saw pass over her sister’s expression. She had no right to show emotion about Jake in front of Kate, even if he was Audrey’s father—if you could even call him that.
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you himself,” Kate said, and Charlotte had to bite her lip to keep from blurting out that she didn’t see Jake, didn’t speak to him, didn’t hear from him at all. That there was no arrangement, no child support. No acknowledgment.
“Well, we both know how forthcoming with the truth he is,” Charlotte replied. Even though Jake had lied to her, told her Kate had broken his heart, that it was over between them, finished, that had never been true. And if Charlotte had known that, she never would have accepted a second round of drinks, or a third, not listened to him tell her how much better she was making him feel, how pretty she was…
But then, there never would have been Audrey, she reminded herself firmly. It always came back to that one wonderful grounding thought.
“We’re both better off without him,” Kate said firmly, but even though Charlotte nodded, she couldn’t wholeheartedly agree.
Charlotte looked away, toward the wall of framed photos Kate had hung on the far edge of the addition that now housed her event planning company. A radiant bride was cutting her cake, and the groom looking on with an adoring grin, his hand placed carefully over hers.
To think she’d once dreamed of a day like that for herself. The white wedding, the honeymoon to an exotic destination…Instead she was hunkered down with a baby who didn’t sleep through the night, overwhelmed by the reality of practicality, not romantic frivolity. Forget fantasizing about a wedding dress. Now she was dreaming of the day she might fit into her wardrobe again, since God knew she couldn’t exactly swing a new one right now.
She eyed her sister carefully. At least one of them had come out of this mess in a good place. Kate had found a better man, that much was certain, and she’d settled into her cozy life with her new business and sweet little dog named Henry. Charlotte couldn’t have wished for a better outcome for her sister. But she secretly wished for an equally tidy outcome for herself.
Kate folded the paper and set it to the side, a subtle indication that the topic of Jake and his bright future was over. “So the meeting went well?”
Charlotte nodded and gave a grim smile. She felt weary, and her head had started to ache. Jake was getting married. He didn’t have a care in the world. No responsibilities. No mouths to feed. Her landlord had called twice more since she’d left the meeting with Greg—make that Gregory—Frost and she couldn’t dodge the calls much longer. November’s rent was now thirty days late, and December’s payment was technically due today. And she couldn’t cover any of it.
“Do you think Mr. Frost wants our services?” Kate continued.
Charlotte snorted. He wanted it, all right. In the form of some arm candy for the night. “Oh, I think so,” Charlotte said bitterly.
“That’s wonderful, Charlotte! I knew you could do it!”
Charlotte blinked. Rattled.
“Well, he hasn’t made a decision just yet,” Charlotte said quickly, thinking of the business card tucked safely inside her coat pocket. She had planned to rip it up and chuck it in the nearest bin, but now she wasn’t so sure that was the best idea.
The sisters lapsed into silence, and Charlotte picked at the remnants of her purple nail polish, grimacing at how unprofessional it must have looked. Before Audrey, she never would imagined leaving the house like this—she’d had a standing weekly appointment with Maria at the nail salon. But then, before Audrey, a lot of things were different. Before Audrey, she didn’t go to the grocery store with wet hair and sweatpants that were a little snug in the hips, either.
Before Audrey, she cared about her appearance. Now all she cared about was her little girl.
“What else is planned?” she ventured. “Any other promising leads?” Maybe she could trade the Frost party for something else. Usually her responsibilities around here consisted of coordinating with vendors or checking on the status of various orders, a little paperwork, s
ome light scheduling, but a client all of her own was a big step up.
“Not really. Everything for Christmas and New Year’s is already well in the works, and it usually slows down after the holidays for a while. But things should pick up again in the spring and summer, of course.” Kate offered her a small smile. “At least you’re getting child support to keep you going. And it must be a hefty sum, considering what Jake’s worth.”
“Hmm.” Charlotte looked away, but her fingers had started to shake. Not a penny. Not for food. Not for clothes. He’d written her one check in all the months since she’d first told him she was pregnant. Hush money after she’d gone to his office and all but demanded he step up. And because it was all that he’d ever offered and probably ever would, she’d taken it.
“Although, why he lets you live in that apartment—”
“Oh, it’s just temporary!” Charlotte said. How temporary, she didn’t want to know. While clean, it was small, with only one bedroom, and the few furnishings that hadn’t come with the property had come from their parents’ basement. The first time Kate had come over, Charlotte had explained she was saving for a house, and having trouble finding exactly what she wanted, and of course Kate knew that in a resort town like Misty Point rents were naturally inflated. Besides, it was cozy, she’d pointed out, and already partially furnished. It was a stepping stone, she’d said with false cheer, but Kate hadn’t looked convinced—Charlotte had always liked the finer things in life, and they both knew it: the fashionable clothes, the expensive beauty treatments, the dashing yet completely unavailable men who drove flashy cars and knew how to show a girl a really good time and make her feel special for about five minutes before they were on to the next. A place like hers was a reality check. A harsh reminder of the consequences of her choices. Since then Charlotte exclusively met Kate at her perfectly pretty little house or somewhere in town. And Kate always brought a gift for her niece.