Her Leading Man

by Maggie Dallen

  It wasn’t until later—much later—that Ben was able to show Caitlyn in exquisite detail exactly how much she meant to him.

  Curled up in bed, thoroughly satisfied at last, Ben held Caitlyn in his arms. Warm and contented, she was snuggled up against his side, her head tucked beneath his chin. “So what would the perfect boyfriend do now?”

  “Mmm, you’re doing it,” she mumbled sleepily.

  He stroked her back with one hand while tightening his grip with his other arm. She should have the best of everything. She deserved that and so much more. A little pang of unease threatened the perfect calm and happiness he’d been reveling in. Shifting a bit, he said, “I promised you Mr. Perfect.”

  Her hands started to roam over his chest and shoulders and the snuggling became decidedly less sweet.

  He heard her quiet laugh as she tipped her head up and planted a kiss on his lips. “You are Mr. Perfect,” she said, her voice husky and soft and re-awakening his desire. Before he could argue, she added, “For me.”

  Her words had hit a spot in his heart he hadn’t known existed until that moment. When he tugged her so she was firmly wrapped in his arms, he vowed then and there that he would never let go.

  Epilogue

  Ben led Caitlyn to the restaurant and stopped in front of the door, gesturing to the sign like a model on The Price is Right. “Ta da!”

  Caitlyn took one look at the place and started to laugh. “Really? We’re returning to the scene of the crime?”

  After much debate about where to bring Caitlyn for their celebratory dinner, he’d finally settled on the spot where they’d had their first date. There was a symmetry to it, a way of seeing just how far they’d come in a relatively short amount of time.

  He grabbed the handle to open the door for her and leaned down to whisper, “Let’s just hope the waiter doesn’t remember me,” as she passed in front of him.

  Her answering giggle helped to calm some of his nerves as they followed the maître d’ to their table. On cue, the waiter brought over a bottle of champagne that Ben had ordered beforehand.

  “You shouldn’t have,” Caitlyn said but she wore a huge smile that made her eyes sparkle and his heart tighten.

  For a moment Ben was speechless in the face of her happiness. Shit. Words don’t fail me now. Not tonight of all nights. But the enormity of what he was doing—what he was feeling—struck him anew. And that was when he knew—he was the luckiest man alive. “We’re celebrating tonight,” Ben said as he raised a glass for a toast. “To you and your new book.”

  Caitlyn’s blush gave her a glow as she clinked her glass against his. Her first book of knitting patterns had been released that day and he couldn’t have been prouder.

  “Thank you.” Tilting her head to the side, she took in the champagne, the flowers he’d surprised her with earlier, and the suit he was wearing. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble, but I appreciate it.”

  This was nothing. There was a whole surprise party waiting for her at Cagney’s, but first, he’d wanted a chance to celebrate alone.

  “I owe it all to you,” she said. She reached across the table and took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. “If you hadn’t pushed me to take a risk and try it, I may never have gotten the nerve. You made me brave.”

  Ben choked on laughter. “Are you kidding?” Caitlyn may have underestimated herself and her talents when he’d first met her, but she had always been brave in the ways that counted the most. She wasn’t afraid to put her heart on the line and make herself vulnerable—all in the name of love. That was a lesson she’d taught him and thankfully his stubborn ass had learned it. Leaning over, he squeezed her hand in his. “You’re the bravest person I know. You always have been.”

  “I learned it from you,” she said, her eyes glimmering with a happiness that made his heart feel whole. He wanted to see that happiness in her eyes every day of his life—and he wanted to be the one who put it there.

  “I’m not brave, I’ve just got swagger.” He waggled his eyebrows, making her giggle.

  “I don’t know,” she drawled. “You’ve been pretty brave these past few months.”

  It was true. Having overcome his biggest cowardice and admitting that he loved her, a gate had opened in his heart, making it easier and easier to take leaps of faith into the unknown. Like inviting her to move in with him in his new condo. It had been a no-brainer. It was something that would have terrified him in the past. But from the moment he’d moved in he’d known it wouldn’t feel like home unless Caitlyn was there with him.

  She’d been worried they were moving too quickly but he harassed and nagged until she’d finally caved, and they’d been blissfully cohabitating ever since.

  As if reading his thoughts, she said, “Asking me to move in, I’d say that was pretty brave.”

  That’s nothing compared to this. He met her eyes and matched her grin but the thought of what he was about to do had his palms sweating and he inhaled deeply.

  Before he could launch into his well-rehearsed speech, Caitlyn noticed that something was off. Of course she did, his girlfriend knew him inside out—better than anyone. But now, that particular insight was working to his disadvantage. Her eyes narrowed. “Is everything okay?”

  He smiled at the concern in her eyes. “Everything is great. I just want tonight to be perfect, that’s all.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I thought we agreed—perfection is overrated.”

  “You agreed,” he said, turning her hand over in his to trace patterns along her palm. She shivered, her lips parting on a gasp.

  “You’re such a tease,” she whispered.

  “You agreed,” he said again, ignoring her protest. “I still think you deserve only the best. You deserve your—”

  Caitlyn threw up her free hand in warning. “I swear to God, if you say Cary Grant—”

  “You deserve your Cary Grant,” he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. Her lips were twitching as she tried to hold back a laugh.

  His girlfriend really was the most fun to tease.

  She leaned over the table as if to tell him a secret. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

  She gave a quick nod. “Yeah. Cary Grant is no longer my ideal leading man.”

  His eyes widened as he feigned shock. “No?”

  She shook her head. “He’s been replaced. That particular role has already been filled.” Her eyes softened and the love he saw there was nearly his undoing. “By you,” she added softly.

  This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for. Not even Cary Grant could ask for a better cue. As he got down on bended knee, his breathing steadied and the nerves subsided. This was not a risk—this was trust. This was love and respect and commitment and everything he’d never known he’d wanted. But it was everything he needed and it was what he desired for them both. A future together. Forever.

  And don’t miss Maggie Dallen’s A Chance Romance series.

  The Accidental Engagement

  Oops . . .

  It started as a regular night for New York City restaurant hostess Ivy Sinclair, until a rowdy customer turned out to be world famous playboy Jack Everett. Thanks to the paparazzi, now the world thinks they’re a couple—which couldn’t be farther from the truth. But when a brooding, sexy businessman offers her a simply

  irresistible proposition . . .

  Uh oh . . .

  Just when cutthroat venture capitalist Daniel Gladwell thought he’d never close the deal with an Italian conglomerate, a simple mistake becomes the perfect opportunity. All he has to do is convince Ivy to pretend to be Jack’s fiancée while on a business trip to Italy to offset Jack’s bad-boy reputation. As long as Daniel doesn’t sabotage the plan by claiming the tempting waitress for himself . . .

  Oh yes!

  It was supposed to be a business-only arrangement. But in the magic of the Tuscan countrysid
e, neither Ivy nor Daniel can fight the attraction building between them. In the world’s most romantic setting, the line between business and pleasure is one that begs to be crossed . . .

  Chapter 1

  Ivy Sinclair thought she’d seen it all as a hostess at a hotel bar—but when a young man came running up to her with a look of panic before diving behind her hostess stand—well, now she’d really seen everything.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?” she asked, looking down at the top of his head as he crouched beside her.

  The young man barely looked at her. He was too busy peering around the edge of the stand toward the door. He muttered a curse as a large, brutish man wearing an intimidating scowl walked in.

  “I’m not here,” the young man at her feet whispered. “Excuse me?” “Please,” he added. His eyes widened and filled with panic. Ivy couldn’t help but take pity. The large man, who looked ready to kill, zeroed in on her. “Where is he?” She swallowed a lump of fear at the aggressive tone. “Where is who?”

  Ivy tried to keep her voice innocent but it came out as a squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m afraid I don’t know to whom you’re referring.” He leaned in closer and Ivy fought the impulse to run. “Where is Everett?” he growled. Ivy stared down the oversized thug who was leaning over the hostess stand. She tried not to flinch even as his hot, rancid breath hit her square in the face.

  “As I said before, sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Several guests had paused in the hotel lobby, en route to the restaurant,alb to watch the drama unfold. The giant didn’t seem to mind the attention but this job was Ivy’s only source of income and she could repeat the manager’s lecture on courtesy and service verbatim. But above all else, her job was to be discreet.

  Ivy had to believe that meant covering for the well-dressed, albeit rumpled, young man who was currently crouching behind the hostess stand, uncomfortably close to her legs. She didn’t know what the hidden man had done but she couldn’t blame him for hiding from the heavyset giant who loomed over her—he looked like a man who was capable of causing serious pain.

  And at this particular moment he looked like he would throttle her given the slightest provocation. Ivy was a good foot shorter than the brute, with a petite frame—not exactly an even match. She tried to keep her voice soft but stern—the same tone she used to cajole Otis, her parents’ German Shepherd, into his cage when it was time to visit the vet.

  “I don’t know what this Mr.—uh—” “Everett. Jack Everett,” the man sneered. The name caused even more passersby to stop in their tracks. Why did that name sound familiar?

  “I don’t know what Mr. Everett has done, but I assure you I have not seen the man you described come into this restaurant.”

  His frown deepened into a menacing glare and she added, “If Mr. Everett comes looking for you, I’d be happy to pass along a message, Mr.—”

  He leaned in even closer. “You tell Jack that if I see him with my wife again, he’s a dead man.”

  Ivy’s hands clenched at her side. That was it. She couldn’t have people making death threats in her restaurant. She drew a deep breath and mustered her courage. “If you don’t leave immediately, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to call the police.”

  The burly man slammed a fist against the podium. “Listen, lady, I’ll do whatever I—” His voice cut off abruptly when she snatched up the phone and started dialing, keeping eye contact all the while.

  The man muttered a curse, shook his head, and backed toward the door. “You tell that little bastard I’m coming for him.”

  When she was certain the man was gone from view, Ivy let out a deep breath and looked down at the young man.

  “You are my hero,” he said with a grin.

  Ivy rolled her eyes and reached out a hand to help him to his feet. “You’re Jack, I presume?”

  The young man paused on his knees, a lock of floppy brown hair partially covering eyes that were filled with mischief.

  “If I were you, I would get out of here quick, before he comes back,” she said.

  He ignored her advice and grasped her hands in his. “I’m serious, I owe you my life. That guy was going to kill me.”

  Ivy stifled a laugh at his melodramatic tone. He looked to be around the same age as her—most likely in his late twenties—but everything from his laughing eyes to his mussed hair said he was a little boy in a grown man’s body.

  “In case you didn’t hear, that nice gentleman would prefer that you stay away from his wife. I hope you take his advice,” she added, allowing honesty to outweigh discretion for a moment.

  His look was sheepish and he gave her an adorable lopsided grin but he made no attempt to deny the accusations. The man had the face of a movie star and clearly the charm and confidence to go with it. She shouldn’t be surprised that he was a ladies’ man. Working in a hotel restaurant she’d witnessed more than her fair share of adulterous rendezvous. She’d thought she was worldly-wise when she’d first started working at the hotel. She was no longer fresh off the bus from her tiny hometown in Ohio, but she’d still been shocked by the constant and casual affairs. Now, after two years in one of New York’s swankiest hotels her scandalized disgust had given way to weary disapproval.

  The young man was still on his knees and resisted her insistent tug. She was horrified to realize that the crowd of people who’d gathered to witness the earlier scene were now watching her—with more than a little amusement. Heat flooded her cheeks and she dipped her head. “Please stand up,” she muttered.

  He flashed her a wicked grin. “Not until you accept my sincere gratitude—”

  “Fine, you’re welcome. Now stand up, please.” “And tell me how I can repay you,” he finished. “You can repay me by standing up.” Whether it was her pleading tone or the red cheeks, he did stand up—and planted a sloppy kiss on her lips. Sputtering with surprise and embarrassment, she pushed him away and turned her face from the people who were now laughing and clapping. Ivy ducked her head, trying to hide her flaming cheeks behind a curtain of hair. She grabbed Jack by the hand and dragged him into the hallway leading to the restrooms, away from the prying eyes of strangers. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Sorry,” he drawled. “I just wanted to say thank you.” His eyes were wide with innocence but the unapologetic grin told her that he found her distress entertaining.

  “You’ve said it,” Ivy said with a scowl. She tugged her hand out of his and crossed her arms into her chest.

  His lips twitched in what she assumed was a valiant attempt to keep from laughing. “Do you know who I am?”

  Ivy blinked at the sudden turn in conversation. “According to your friend who was just here, I’d assume you’re Jack Everett.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back, his eyes searching her face, waiting for something—some sort of recognition, no doubt. The hotel where she worked was one of the most exclusive in the city; nearly every guest thought they were famous as well as rich. They were almost always wrong.

  “Should that mean something to me?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said with a laugh. “Nothing at all. So now that we’ve established my name, why don’t you tell me yours?”

  “Ivy Sinclair.” “As in poison ivy?” “As in The Holly and the Ivy.” At his raised eyebrow, she explained.

  “My mom has a thing for Christmas.” “Don’t tell me you have a sister named Holly,” he teased. She gave a sheepish shrug and he burst out laughing. He gave a jaunty salute as he walked back toward the hotel lobby.

  “Thank you for saving my life, Ivy Sinclair. I’ll be in touch.”

  * * * *

  Word had spread quickly in the hotel and less than twenty minutes after Jack left, Ivy had been summoned to the manager’s office. Franklin Webster was known for being a tough boss but he kept his mouth shut through the entire tale, giving her a chance to fully explain her side of the story.


  Ivy cleared her throat and forced herself to continue despite Franklin’s intimidating frown. “So you see, sir, I really didn’t intend to cause such a scene. I was trying my best to keep the situation under wraps. But this young man...well, I’m afraid he was a bit of a ham and he sort of made me—er, us—the center of attention.”

  When she’d finished explaining, he took his time polishing his glasses and made a show of straightening his tie. Ivy tried not to squirm in her seat. Every time she was called into Franklin’s office she couldn’t help but feel like she’d been called in to see the principal. More nerve-wracking since the only times she was called on to speak to the principal were when her sister Holly was in trouble.

  “Ivy, do you have any idea who Jack Everett is?”

  Ivy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Uh, no sir.”

  Franklin sighed. He handed her a copy of one of the tabloids that were sold in the hotel’s gift shop.

  Ivy stared at the front cover, momentarily speechless. There he was— the man who’d huddled by her feet while she fended off an angry husband. He was flashing the camera that now-familiar cocky grin, one hand on the back of a supermodel as they made their way toward a waiting limo. “Tech Mogul Out on the Town,” the headline read. Ivy had never taken much interest in gossip columns or celebrities and today her willful ignorance was on display.

  When she looked up she saw that Franklin was watching her with a tight-lipped look of disapproval. “I’d say your Mr. Everett has a tendency to find the spotlight. Or rather, the spotlight has a tendency to find him.”

  Ivy let out a pent-up breath. “So you’re not angry?”

  “No, I’m not angry. I think you handled the whole thing quite well, considering....”

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. Webster,” Ivy interrupted.

  Franklin’s lips twisted into a rare hint of a smile. “Of course. And if Mr. Everett should be true to his offer and come back to the hotel, I know you will do everything in your power to keep him...entertained.”