“Ick,” Chad said, putting a file on her desk as she finished her message. “Just promise me you’ll never talk to me like that, okay? If I annoy you or something, just tell me. Don’t do the whole sweet Southern girl, smile-through-your-teeth-while-you-stick-the-knife-in-my-back routine.”
“You’re annoying me,” she replied flatly. He grinned and turned back to his desk.
“You told her about the problem with the press table?” Chad called over his shoulder.
Shit. Suzanne knew she probably should’ve left that on the message so Yvette could talk to Dylan before getting back to her. Otherwise they’d have another long, exhausting conversation to come to a mutual decision that would then be overturned by Dylan anyway. She picked up the phone again.
“Hello?” A man’s voice. She paused.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must’ve dialed the wrong number.” Wait, didn’t I just hit redial? She was about to hang up when the voice returned.
“Not if you were calling Yvette Olsen, you didn’t. Can I, uh, can I help you?”
Suzanne thought she remembered Yvette mentioning that she had a new assistant. Maybe she had started trusting him with phone duty. “Well, is Yvette available?”
“I’m sorry, she stepped out. Is there something I can do for you?” She heard voices in the background—other men—and for a second she thought she heard suppressed laughter.
“Well,” Suzanne sighed. “I’d just left her a message a few minutes ago responding to some concerns she had about the benefit —”
“We were actually just meeting about that, so your timing is great.” His voice sounded farther away now. Had he put her on speakerphone? Who else was in the room?
“Okay,” she started tentatively. “I just remembered that I had an additional question about the press table, so if you’ll just have her call me when she gets back, that would be great.”
“Why don’t you just ask me the question?” he said.
“Well, it’s complicated.”
“The question is complicated, or the reason you can’t ask me is complicated?”
Wow. She thought Chad was a nervy assistant. This guy was bordering on rude. If this was what the music industry peons were like, she was going to charge more to plan their ridiculous parties. “The question is complicated. It’s about the press table.”
“I don’t think we should have one. Let the vultures stand.” She heard more laughter in the background. Man, was Yvette going to be pissed when Suzanne told her about this.
“Well, that wasn’t really the question. Obviously there are enough major outlets planning to attend—I think we have to accommodate them. It was just a question of how to keep them separate from the Burkes—”
“Afraid one of those hillbillies will make a scene and ruin the whole event?”
“Well, yes, frankly. Those are the kinds of things we have to be concerned about—the comfort of the attendees, the reputation of the museum…. You know what? Just have Yvette call me if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind, as a matter of fact.”
Suzanne was completely taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”
“I realize, Miss Hamilton, that my family may not have the blue-blood heritage that yours probably does. We may not be conventional, exactly. But we’re good people.”
“My family?” Holy shit. Suzanne collapsed into her chair, mouth gaping. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Tell me this isn’t happening.
She now realized why the assistant’s masculine twang sounded familiar. She had a sudden—and belated—memory, crystal clear, that Yvette had mentioned her new assistant’s name was Lisa. She’d been talking to Dylan Burke. For the first time. Holy shit.
“Mr. Burke, I—” she stammered, gripping the phone in panic. Across the room, Chad’s eyes went wide in shock as he put it together, too. “Please accept my apologies. I—”
But it was too late. “Yvette,” she heard Dylan call to the murmuring room behind him. She heard a static rustle as he presumably tossed the phone to her. Yvette made a startled, squeaking noise as she fumbled it. From farther away, Suzanne heard country music’s golden boy say, “It’s for you.”
Get Regrets Only by M.J. Pullen for Kindle at amazon.com beginning August 2012
www.mjpullen.com
The Marriage Pact Page 30