by Tawny Weber
“Contracts be damned. I serve what I choose to cook, and people are grateful.”
“Look, buddy,” the woman he assumed was Mia snapped, jabbing her finger into the guy’s chest. “The florist sent the wrong flowers. The supplier, instead of delivering midnight-blue tablecloths, sent navy. And the tapers are twelve-inch ecru instead of eleven-inch cream. I’ve had enough mix-ups for one event. So I suggest, very strongly, that you do what you agreed before I make you regret it.”
Spence had seen that look on people’s faces before. Usually right before they fired a gun. So he decided to intervene before the sexy brunette sent the chef to the hospital.
“Sorry,” he said, offering up his most charming smile as he stepped between them. “I thought Ms. Cade was in charge.”
“This is my kitchen, sir.”
“My mistake.” With just a twitch of his shoulders, Spence shifted into intimidation mode. His smile didn’t change. His tone remained friendly. But from the pinprick of fear in the beefy man’s eyes, he got the message just fine. “I’m just the kind of guy who believes in agreements.”
“But—”
“And believe me, the last thing I ever want to do is let a beautiful woman down when she’s counting on me to keep my word.”
Those beady eyes shifted from Spence to Mia and back before the chef nodded so fast, his big white hat wobbled.
“The menu will be to your specifications, Ms. Cade. I’ll get to work right away.”
“I know Mia’s got a lot to deal with, so while she’s busy, I’ll check back to see how it’s going back here,” Spence said, with just enough threat in his tone to make the chef’s grimace quiver before he nodded his understanding.
“I’m glad we managed to get that settled,” Mia said in a tone that sounded anything but. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a few things to deal with in the ballroom.”
We, meaning she and he, Spence realized when Mia dug her fingers into his forearm and gave a subtle tug. Whether she’d had enough drama for the time being or to save his ego, she waited until they were out of the kitchen to turn on him like a rabid tiger.
Those fairy-queen eyes gleaming with outrage, she bared her teeth in a smile that radiated threat and warning.
“I have three questions for you,” she said, her words as low and quiet as an unexploded IED. “First off, what exactly do you think you’re doing interfering with me like that? Second, do I in any way appear incapable of handing my own business? And third, just for fun, who the hell are you?”
“First, I thought I was doing my job. Second, you actually appear capable of handling absolutely anything.” He’d expect nothing less from one of Cade’s daughters. “And third, I’m Spence Lloyd. Nice to meet you.”
He held out his hand to shake.
She glanced at his hand, arched one brown brow and waited.
“You need a new assistant, right? I’m here to help you out.”
For a solid three second, she simply stared.
“Did Karen send you? She usually calls me before she sends someone.”
“I guess she didn’t have a chance.”
Obviously a strong believer in the talk-while-you-walk principle, Mia gestured for him to come along. Glad he’d passed the first hurdle, Spence followed in her wake, telling himself to focus on her words instead of staring at her.
“I’ll need to see your résumé and a list of references, then. I don’t have time right now but can you have them to me by the end of the day?”
“No problem.” That’d give him time to gather enough intel to fake a few and figure out who Karen actually was. And speaking of intel... “Speaking of problems, I hear this job should come with hazard pay.”
“Only if you’re a wimp,” Mia said dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Who tries to get out of forgetting to set the parking brake in San Francisco by claiming that someone is trying to kill them?”
Kill them? There were those red flags again, waving wildly for attention.
“Any chance any of those accidents almost happened to you, too?”
“What? Look, we have work to do.” She shot him an impatient look. “I’m not sure if Karen went over the outline of tonight’s event, but I assume you have the basics. So while I deal with the florist mix-up, you oversee the table setups.” She gestured to the only set table in the ballroom, with its fancy-ass settings, complete with colored tablecloths, a round mirror, flowers, candles and class.
“You can handle that, right?”
No.
But he’d led twelve-man covert missions into enemy territory with the goal of taking out insurgents without leaving a trace.
He could handle a few table settings.
“Tell me the order again.” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I always like to double-check things.”
“White floor-length tablecloths partially covered by what should have been shorter tablecloths in midnight blue but are navy instead, with the bead-rimmed mirrored tray in the center. Reverse order on the tables on the dais. Got that?”
Whiskey. November. Mike. Victor. Three Charlies and a handful of foxtrot. Spence nodded. “Got it.”
“The florist knows to put the gardenia sculptures on the lower tables and orchids on the others, but I’d appreciate it if you’d double-check to make sure it’s correct.”
Sure. Just as soon as someone pointed out the difference between a gardenia and an orchid.
“You’re sure?” Still assessing, those fairy eyes stared into his with enough intensity to make Spence wonder if the woman thought she could see into his brain. Still, when five seconds turned into ten, he felt a nervous tingle not even the hardest hard-ass commanding officer had ever managed with the darkest threats or demeaning insults.
“You want the tables covered with fabric, flowers and candles. You want me to order people around to make sure they do it right. Right,” he added, “meaning your way.”
Grinning, she shot one finger his way. “You catch on fast. We’re going to get along great.”
He liked the way she took charge without making a big deal out of being in charge. Unlike the insecure blonde, Mia knew her own power. Damned if that wasn’t sexy.
“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” he agreed, his own smile slow and easy.
Something flashed in her eyes but was gone too fast for him to identify, replaced instead by professional friendliness.
“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be around.”
“Actually, I need some time with you later.”
Her eyes flashed again, but this time he could clearly read the caution. Smart woman. He appreciated a certain amount of caution, but not if it got in the way of his mission.
So he dimmed his smile down a few notches, going for safe.
“I just want to get a few things nailed down when you have time,” he told her in his mellowest tone. “Job details, duties, responsibilities. That sort of thing.”
“Oh. Sure, yeah. We’ll get to that.” She made a show of grimacing at her watch, then looking around the room. Spence followed her gaze, figuring her for one hell of an optimist if she actually believed she’d be holding a ball in here tonight. “Well. Lots to do. Busy-busy.”
With her eyes still searching his, she bit her lip but didn’t move. Good. It gave Spence longer to breathe in her scent, the rich notes reminding him of a garden in the moonlight.
“Just to clarify, this thing tonight is pretty formal, right?”
She blinked, her lashes so thick he was surprised she could hold those pretty amber eyes open.
“Seeing as I’m your right hand, I assume I should be here?”
“I actually prefer to have staff begin working with me at smaller events first. That gives me a chance to walk through my process with a little less pressure.”
Spence looked around wi
th an arched brow. She called this pressure? Whether it was the look on his face, a sudden leap of faith or she really needed help, though, Mia finally gave a shrug.
“Actually, sure. I’m sure I can use your help. But it is black-tie.” She gave him a look as hopeful as it was doubtful. “Can you get your hands on a tux by six?”
He could think of a dozen things he’d rather get his hands on—including the woman in front of him. Since none of them—including Mia—were on his mission list, he opted for a simple, “You can count on me.”
Mia’s smile flashed, both sweet and grateful, before she answered a summons from a frantic-looking woman waving from the other side of the room.
Spence indulged in a moment to appreciate the sway of her hips as she hurried across the marble floor before reviewing his current op-stat.
ASCOPE recon complete, he had a solid handle on the area, structure, capability, organization, people and event in question.
He’d made contact, established his cover and elicited trust. He’d verified the possibility of threat, garnered the necessary names and time frame to investigate, and had confirmed the connection with the enemy.
He considered this a good start for his first hour on the job, befitting years of SEAL training.
Now he looked around with a grimace; it was time to set some tables.
* * *
My.
My, oh my, oh my.
Mia pressed her lips together to make sure she wasn’t drooling.
Karen had outdone herself, big-time.
Spence.
Mia knew she should have gotten his last name. But name or not, she was pretty sure she had his number.
Sexy, powerful and take-charge, the man had a gorgeous smile, piercing gray eyes and a butt so tight, she would bet she could bounce quarters off it. Add tousled hair with that hint of auburn and kissable lips that quirked in a sexy smile and Mia would rank him at the very top of the best-looking-men-she’d-ever-seen list.
If the guy was anywhere as good at handling events as he was at looking incredible, Mia was sure that her business was going to explode.
She watched him lean across the table to adjust the vase to the precise center, tilting her head to better appreciate the denim-clad view. The man’s body was perfectly formed. Long, and lean with mucles sculpted in all the right places.
She knew she was objectifying a man she’d barely met. And she really should stop. Mia blew out a long, slow breath when he straightened, wondering if those shoulders were as sexy bare as they were covered in a black cotton tee.
Okay, she was sure everything about him looked good bare.
Not that she’d ever find out.
First off, the man worked for her now. So trying to see him naked was a really bad idea.
Second, with tonight’s event for Forever Families as the latest example, her career was taking off, and big things were happening. Which meant she couldn’t split her focus by dealing with other big things right now.
And third and most important, Mia had spent her formative years surrounded by strong men. Take-charge men. Men with major control issues. A half a lifetime watching them taught her to recognize trouble when she was staring at it.
“Mia?”
She’d always prided herself in being too smart to fall for a guy she knew was so wrong for her just because his body made her want to drool.
“Excuse me? Mia?”
Still, look at the way he moved. Pure poetry in masculine motion.
“Yo, earth to Mia.”
“What?”
Thankfully Pierre chose that moment to roll a dolly of wine across the ballroom floor, obscuring her view of Spence and breaking the spell.
“I’m sorry, I was distracted. What did you say?” she said, giving Clair a distracted look.
“I had a few questions for you.” The perky blonde aimed an arch look across the room. “If you’re not busy, of course.”
Huge gala, major client, important event.
Focus, focus, focus, Mia thought, ripping her thoughts away for the temptation of her new assistant. Instead, she gave Clair her most professional smile and gestured with her clipboard.
“Let’s go over the checklist, shall we?”
“Is there anything to check off? I thought it was all falling apart.” There was just enough maliciousness in Clair’s voice to turn Mia’s smile icy.
“Nothing’s falling apart,” Mia denied. “According to my notes, we’re right on schedule.”
“I thought there was an issue with the florist. And the menu. And late deliveries.”
A big proponent of keeping all event planning in-house, Clair always reported every mistake, every ruffled expression and every single possible screwup to Lorraine—in duplicate. Mia knew plenty of event coordinators hated that sort of thing, but she told herself to be grateful. But Mia dealt with it by telling herself that Clair’s tattling tendencies simply pushed her to use all of her organizational and efficiency skills, pushing her to work even harder to put on the best event possible.
“The florist is in the process of correcting their mistake and will have the correct arrangements delivered within the hour. The winery donated an extra eight cases in apology,” Mia corrected, going down each item on the rest of her list, point by point. Her smile widened with every degree that Clair’s dimmed. By the time she’d reached the end of her list, Clair was frowning and Mia’s cheekbones hurt.
“And how’s your list of tasks coming along?” Leaning from the waist, Mia made a show of checking Clair’s clipboard. The other woman slapped it against her chest.
“Fine. We’re doing great. I’m totally on schedule.” In an obvious subject change, Clair made a show of looking across the room, blew out a breath and waved her hand to cool the air. “Now that we’ve settled that, spill. Where’d you get that yummy treat?”
“You mean Spence? He’s my new assistant.”
Despite her best effort not to, Mia followed Clair’s gaze until she found him.
Spence.
Tall, dark and bossy.
Powerful enough to intimidate, but charming enough to get things done without needing to. She barely bit back a hum of appreciation when he lifted his arm to motion for the florist to stop and the muscles in his arm rippled. Who knew bossing a flower sculptor around could be so sexy?
Swiping her finger under her lower lip to make sure she wasn’t drooling, she added finding an appropriate thank-you gift for Karen to her to-do list.
“Someone want to help me with these pedestals?”
Mia watched three men lift one of the pedestals, all straining to move it a foot to the right so they could set up the main art display. Spence grabbed the other himself, wrapping his arms around the carved post. His biceps bulged under the sleeves of his black tee as he lifted, effortlessly moving the marble cylinder three feet to the left.
Oh boy, did he have a way of moving.
Get to work, Mia reminded herself. She had floral arrangements to check, an ice sculpture to track down and eight artists to mollify. None of that would get done if she was ogling her new assistant.
“Is that really your new assistant?” Clair asked, as if reading her mind. “Talk about lucky.”
“He does seem to be excellent at his job,” Mia agreed.
“Who cares about his job skills?” Clair said dismissively. “The man is gorgeous.”
“His job skills are what matter to me,” Mia claimed, only half-truthfully. Because those shoulders did indeed make her wonder what other skills the man had.
“Are you sure? Because if you aren’t interested, I’m going for it,” Clair said, giving her a light shoulder bump. “I’ll bet I’m just his type.”
“He’s not here to be hit on,” Mia objected, not sure if she was protesting out of outrage over the poor man being objectified or if
a part of her really did want to keep him for herself. Either way, as far as she was concerned, the objection stood. “He’s here to help organize events, not to be treated like a hunk of meat. Speaking of events, we both have plenty of work to do.”
Clair looked like she wanted to argue, but after a few seconds she rolled her eyes and shrugged.
“Fine,” she said in a huff, tucking her clipboard under one arm and heading back to work. But not before she threw over her shoulder, “But you do have to admit, that is one sexy man.”
“Ms. Cade?”
As Mia hurried across the room to meet the head of security, she made a point not to so much as look Spence’s way. Still, she couldn’t deny that Clair was right.
Spence was the hottest assistant she’d ever had.
Chapter 3
All that glittered wasn’t gold.
Success sparkled prettily and brightly, too.
Mia inspected her latest masterpiece, a ballroom filled with generous donors and intriguing art, and gave a satisfied nod. Because yes, indeed, this was success.
Posh elegance glimmered and gleamed, from the damask-covered walls to the liquor-filled crystal. The string quartet—a minor point of contention between her and Lorraine—played a delicate tune in keeping with the ambiance. The waitstaff slid discreetly between guests, refreshing drinks, offering hors d’oeuvres.
The well-dressed attendees milled about, each person handpicked for their potential contributions. Donations, connections, introductions. Before the evening was through, Mia would wheedle a little of each from every guest.
Some would call it mercenary.
Mia called it good business.
Like her daddy always said, there was a perfect tool for every job. It was the leader’s task to find that tool and use it—and use it right.
Speaking of good tools, Mia’s stomach fluttered as she scanned the ballroom. Not that she was looking for Spence. She was just checking out the great crowd. Angling up on the toes of her strappy Louboutins, she shifted to the left to look around a six-foot redhead in Prada, then to the right to peer through a trio of tuxedoed guests talking investments.