by Gina Wilkins
Someone offered fifty-five hundred dollars for the date with Perry Goodman. Someone else immediately upped it to six thousand. The crowd cheered and called for more. On the stage, and on the giant TV screens, Perry’s smile took on a bemused edge that only made him more appealing, in Kristin’s opinion.
He looked directly at the camera, his eyes glittering in the bright lighting. Staring at the screen, Kristin had the unsettling sensation that he was looking directly at her. Beckoning her. Tempting her...
She thought of all the anguish she’d been through, trying to pump some life into a story that had refused to cooperate. She’d become so frustrated with it that she’d begun to panic, wondering if she was going to have to buy back her contract or try to develop another idea in time to make her deadline. There’d been moments when she’d worried that she would never be able to write again. Even knowing other writers often struggled with the same fears hadn’t comforted her.
She wondered if spending a weekend with a man who could have stepped directly from the pages of her novel would help inspire her to finish it.
She felt her hand go into the air, though she didn’t remember actually making a decision to place a bid.
“All right, Kristin!” someone at the table called out. Sophie applauded fervently. Kristin kept her eyes on the screen and raised her hand again when someone outbid her by five hundred dollars.
This wasn’t an entirely crazy thing to do, she assured herself, trying to rationalize her own behavior. If there was any chance that she could salvage her career by drawing inspiration from a real-life hero, she would be foolish not to grab the chance. Not only would she be making a deductible donation to a very worthwhile charity, she would be helping herself in the process. All in all, it made perfect sense.
“Sold for ten thousand dollars!” the MC announced a few minutes later, looking directly at Kristin.
Kristin sank bonelessly into her seat, her knees feeling suddenly too weak to support her. She wondered what on earth had gotten into her as her mother blew a jubilant kiss toward the man on the stage.
She had just paid ten thousand dollars for a weekend with a stranger!
She must be even more desperate about her writing than she’d realized. After all, how many writers had to buy a “hero.”
KRISTIN ARRANGED TO STAY in New York during the ensuing days between the auction and the Thursday-evening-and-all-day-Friday date package she had “purchased.” She met several times that week with her agent and editor, breezily—and, she hoped, convincingly—assuring them that she was making great headway on her contracted book, and had no concerns about making her deadlines. Sophie stayed in New York for two days after the auction, and she and Kristin did some shopping—Sophie urging Kristin to buy more daring and adventurous outfits for her wardrobe, Kristin quietly purchasing the same classic, conservative styles she had long preferred.
Kristin never visited New York without seeing at least two Broadway productions, and she thoroughly enjoyed both of the shows she attended during this visit During those precious hours, she allowed herself to be entertained and transported away from her problems and into the worlds created on stage. Not once during the shows did she think of her deadlines or plotting crises or the impending gala, all of which were making her a nervous wreck.
After several days of reflection, she had come to the conclusion that she must have been temporarily insane when she started bidding on that handsome politician. The champagne, the laughter and teasing, the lights and glitter, the fact that he looked so much like the hero she’d been struggling to bring to life in her book...all those circumstances combined must have gone straight to her stress-scrambled head.
Just what had she thought she would do, follow the guy around with a notebook, jotting down every interesting thing he said? Had she thought she would somehow be transformed for a weekend into the tall, glamorous, witty pediatrician she’d created as her heroine? Hah. She couldn’t even seem to be witty on paper these days.
She knew nothing and cared less about politics. She didn’t particularly like snooty, pretentious affairs—and the exclusive, five-thousand-dollar-a-ticket, political fund-raiser ball Perry Goodman was taking her to would surely be both. It wouldn’t even benefit the party she usually voted for.
How was this going to help her finish her book? As it was, she’d only managed to put off working on it for another week. She’d tried to write in her hotel room with her portable computer, but had found herself staring yet again at an impatiently blinking cursor, while her mind remained stubbornly blank. Each time, she’d finally turned off the computer and escaped the room in search of distraction—any distraction.
And maybe that’s what this whole date was, she decided as she dressed for the gala. She turned to the mirror for one final check of her appearance. Maybe it was just another attempt to distract herself, to put off confronting her writing problems.
She’d heard other writers talk about furiously cleaning closets or organizing pantries or alphabetizing the contents of their refrigerators—anything to avoid facing their worst fears. Was she doing the same thing under the guise of “researching” her hero?
She studied her reflection somberly, noting that her floor-length, sleeveless black sheath and strappy high heels made her look a bit taller than her five feet three inches, and that the cut of the dress minimized the six or seven pounds she’d gained from stress-induced eating during the past few months. She had done her best to fit in with the sleek, sophisticated, elegant crowd with whom she would be mingling for the evening, yet she was well aware that the image was mostly illusion.
But she made her living creating illusion, she reminded herself. She could handle one evening of fantasy.
Kristin and Perry had arranged by telephone to meet at the hotel where the gala was being held—her choice—rather than having him pick her up. He’d promised to send a limo, and a glance at her watch told her it was time to head down for the lobby.
At the last minute, she slipped a small notebook into her bag before leaving her room. Just in case...
PERRY HADN’T HAD A CHANCE to meet the woman who’d “bought” him at the bachelor auction. There’d been several bachelors auctioned after him, and Perry had had to leave before the event ended to catch a flight home to D.C.
Because of the bright lights that had been trained on him during the auction, and the large number of people seated in the ballroom, Perry. had had difficulty making out individual faces. He’d smiled in the general direction of the women who’d placed bids, but their features had been blurred. The final bid had come from somewhere in the middle of the room. The only woman Perry had seen clearly at that table had stood out because of her bright red hair and the masses of sparkling jewelry she’d worn with her deep purple dress. She’d blown a kiss at him when he’d turned to leave the stage.
When he’d been told later that his date package had been purchased by a multipublished, bestselling romance writer named Kristin Cole, he’d concluded that the red-haired woman must be the one, and he’d congratulated himself on his powers of deduction. With her conspicuous appearance and extroverted manner, the woman met his preconceived notion of how a successful romance writer might look. She obviously was much older than Perry’s thirty-six years, but she’d had a contagious smile that made him suspect she would be an amusing companion. He looked forward to meeting her.
A festive, glittering evening lay ahead for them. Perry generally enjoyed these events, even though attending them was part of his job. He was working when he mingled with the other guests—but then, Perry was always working. A few people—notably his ex-fiancee—had accused him of being more than a bit compulsive about his job. And about a few other things, as well, he admitted ruefully.
He huddled with a couple of his associates as he waited for his date to arrive. He was dressed in evening clothes again, as were his companions, but they might as well have been wearing business suits. They were on the job, and they took their work
very seriously. Even Perry’s choice to bring his bachelor-auction date to this event had been thoughtfully calculated; it enhanced his own reputation to be seen as a man who would commit himself so personally to advancing literacy, and it gave him a chance to point out that his political party had always been firmly committed to advances in education.
“Make sure,” Perry told one of his aides, “that Senator Henley greets everyone in the room, and that he’s photographed with the specific individuals we mentioned earlier.”
Elspeth Moore nodded briskly. “I′ll keep him on track.”
“Good. Marcus...” Perry turned to the man standing at Elspeth’s side.
“Yes, Perry?”
“Keep an eye on Mrs. Henley, will you? Try to stay between her and Senator O’Malley’s wife, as much as possible. And between Mrs. Henley and the champagne, if you can.”
Marcus’s coffee-colored face lit with a wry smile. “I’ll try.”
“Elspeth, you′ll be available to assist Congressman Nalley, if he needs you, in addition to helping Senator Henley?”
“Of course, Perry. Um, weren’t you bringing a date this evening?”
His staffs teasing smiles caused Perry to grin wryly. “As you are both well aware, I will have someone joining me this evening as part of my contribution to Heart Books’ fund-raiser for literacy last weekend. She’s a bestselling romance novelist, and I’m sure she’ll be a very interesting companion for the evening. I hope you’ll make an effort to welcome her.”
“I heard she paid ten thousand dollars to spend an evening with you,” Marcus quipped. “Wonder how long it’ll take her to figure out she got gypped?”
“If all she wanted was to attend this event, she could have saved five thousand and simply bought a ticket,” Elspeth agreed impishly. “She wouldn’t have had to spend the whole evening with Perry that way.”
“Yeah, but tickets to this thing have been sold out for months,” Marcus reminded her. “Maybe coming with Perry was the only way she could get in.”
“Is it so hard to believe that she might have wanted to spend an evening in my company?”
Marcus and Elspeth both grinned at Perry and said in unison, “Yes.”
“Thanks a lot, you guys. With friends like you...”
“So, Perry, you think she’ll want you to pose for the cover of one of her books? Maybe you could take off your shirt and pretend you have biceps to flex.”
“Okay, Marcus, that’s enough.”
“He’d like that,” Elspeth taunted. “A chance to get his pretty face in another medium.”
“Are you two quite finished?”
“He’s always rather fancied himself as the hero type,“ Marcus murmured, not notably intimidated by Perry’s exasperation. ”Boldly braving the opposing party to advance his candidates, carrying the banner of his beliefs and ideals.”
Perry glanced pointedly at his watch. “The gala is about to start. Don’t you both have things to do?”
“Oh, c’mon, Perry. We want to meet the woman who thought you were worth ten thousand bucks.”
Perry frowned at Marcus. “Would you—”
“Mr. Goodman?”
Hearing his name, Perry gave his aides a warning glance, then turned to meet his date.
So much for his powers of deduction, he thought. If this was Kristin Cole, she couldn’t have been more different from the red-haired woman he’d assumed he’d be spending the weekend with.
The woman standing in front of him now was no more than thirty years old—at the most—and had subdued brown hair worn in a neat, conservative upsweep. Her figure-hugging black dress revealed very nice curves, and her jewelry was understated and elegant Her features were pleasant—more pretty than beautiful—but her brown eyes were guarded as she studied him with an assessing manner that made him fancy she was preparing to describe him later to a police artist.
She looked, he thought, exactly like the type of woman he could take home to his mother. Like a woman who would easily earn his demanding family’s approval.
Maybe this wasn’t Kristin Cole. Maybe this was someone who’d recognized him and wanted to talk politics. “I’m Perry Goodman,” he confirmed, just a hint of question in his voice.
She held out her hand. “I’m Kristin Cole. Your, um, date for the evening.”
He made sure his surprise didn’t show in the smile he flashed her as he took her hand. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’ve heard some great things about your writing. One of my coworkers has been singing your praises all week. I only wish I’d had a chance to read one of your books, which I’ll certainly do as soon as I find time.”
He turned then to his visibly curious aides. “Kristin Cole, these are my associates, Elspeth Moore and Marcus Williams.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cole,” Marcus said as Elspeth murmured a polite greeting. “We understand you made a very generous donation to literacy last weekend.”
Kristin smiled a little. “My publisher has always been a supporter of literacy programs, as well as many other worthwhile charities. I try to participate whenever I get the chance.”
“Perry told us you’ve written twelve books,” Elspeth said with an easy smile. “Where do you get all your ideas, Ms. Cole?”
“Please, call me Kristin. And ideas are the fun part of my job. I find them in many places.”
Perry glanced again at his watch, deciding he’d better rescue his date before Elspeth and Marcus started teasing her as they had been doing to him.
“We’d better head for the ballroom,” he said, thinking he didn’t want Mrs. Henley to get a head start on the champagne—or on Senator O’Malley’s wife. The two women were lifelong rivals whose husbands were both considering a run for the presidency, and despite their usual political savvy, fireworks had erupted the last time they’d attended an event together.
Perry was ironically aware that the public would tolerate heated words between the two candidates, but their wives were expected to smile and be gracious, whatever the circumstances. And it was Perry’s job to give the public exactly what it wanted.
Once his aides had departed, Perry turned back to Kristin, finding her watching him again with that thoughtful, appraising manner that made him uncharacteristically self-conscious. Falling back, as he often did, on the innate charm that had served him so well for so long, he gave her his most winning smile and extended his arm to her. “Shall we join the party?”
The smile she gave in return was sweet enough to make him suddenly swallow. “Yes, let’s,” she murmured, and slid her hand beneath his arm.
This evening might just prove to be very interesting, after all, Perry thought, breathing in her light floral scent and becoming very aware of the feminine sway of her hips as she walked sedately at his side. Kristin Cole wasn’t at all what he’d expected, but she was most definitely intriguing.
2
KRISTIN WAS STARSTRUCK, and it was all she could do not to let it show. It would have been difficult not to be starstruck during the hours that followed her meeting with Perry Goodman in the lobby of the exclusive Manhattan hotel in which the gala was being held. Most of the guests had come in through a separate entrance, and were already mingling in the ballroom when Kristin walked in at Perry’s side.
On the stage, the first of several prominent entertainers was singing a song that had made him famous, backed up by an excellent orchestra. Among the faces in the crowd were some that Kristin had seen in movies or in television, others she’d read about in society magazines, and still others who were seen most often on the floors of the House and Senate.
“Hey, Perry, how’s it going?” a striking young man asked as he passed them without pausing.
“Going great, thanks,” Perry replied genially, though the man hadn’t lingered for an answer.
Kristin craned her head around, trying not to be too obvious about it. “Was that...?”
Perry’s mouth quirked upward. “Yes. Did you catch his last action film?�
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“No. It looked a bit violent for my taste.”
“You like happily-ever-after endings?”
“When I can get them,” Kristin agreed. She glanced up a bit shyly at the even more handsome and fascinating man—in her own humble opinion—at her side. “What about you, Mr. Goodman? What type of films do you enjoy?”
“It’s Perry,” he said with a chuckle. “And I don’t get to see many films. I tend to be too busy dealing with reality.”
“And I suppose you only read newsmagazines and opinion polls?”
“And the occasional tell-all Washington nonfiction blockbuster,” he agreed. “Just in case someone quotes me incorrectly.”
She studied him gravely, wondering if being quoted correctly was all he worried about. She hadn’t met many political insiders, and the opinions she’d formed about them from what she’d read and heard had not been particularly positive. So far, Perry Goodman, for all his pretty smiles and sexy dimples, hadn’t done much to change her mind.
Oh, he was certainly charming. Unfailingly polite. He said all the right things, made all the right moves. It was almost as if he practiced being perfect. Maybe he did...wasn’t that all part of his job?
Kristin had fallen a few times before for men with pretty faces, and she’d concluded that it took a lot more to impress her. She had also learned—the hard way—that appearances could be painfully deceiving. Some men were very good at saying all the right things with such apparent sincerity that few people doubted them. But they didn’t mean a word of it. Jim Hooper had impressed her with a handsome face and attentive manner, yet she had learned, to her sorrow, that there wasn’t anything behind it. She intended to be much more careful when it came to smooth-talking men.
Which didn’t mean, she thought as Perry flashed her yet another wickedly boyish grin, that she couldn’t enjoy spending one fantasy evening with this one.
And fantasy it was. For the next few hours, Kristin mingled with the rich and famous, as though this was something she did all the time. Perry introduced her to actors and singers and socialites and business giants. She spent several fascinating minutes chatting with a woman senator she’d always admired. She “talked shop” with a New York Times bestselling mystery writer she hadn’t had the opportunity to meet before.