Operation Prince Charming

by Phyllis Bourne

  “You can do it, son,” Pete called out.

  Ali forced herself to keep her eyes on the children’s game and off the man seated next to her. Even then the masculine scent of his cologne whispered to her, taunting her with the fact that he was off-limits.

  The umpire called a second strike against Pete Jr., and Ali couldn’t help feeling sorry for him as his small shoulders slumped in defeat. She crossed her fingers as he sidled up to the plate for another pitch.

  “Remember what we practiced,” Pete yelled. “See the ball. Hit the ball.”

  Pete Jr. glanced briefly into the stands and acknowledged his father’s encouragement with an almost imperceptible nod. He swung, this time making contact with the ball. Ali cheered along with her new friends as their son’s foot touched first base, and he was declared safe.

  By the time the game ended, Ali was more than ready to go. While she’d enjoyed hanging out with Sandy and getting to know Pete, her proximity to Hunter had knocked her vital signs out of whack.

  Ali felt her heart slamming wildly against her chest, while her pulse tapped out an erratic beat all its own.

  Sandy gathered up her sons, who were walking toward their car with Pete. “Hunter, do you mind taking Ali back to our place for her car? We promised the boys pizza.”

  “It’s okay. I can walk,” Ali said.

  “No, I’ll drive you,” Hunter said, a gruff edge to his tone. It was the first thing he’d said to her since he’d seen her seated in the stands.

  Ali reluctantly accepted his offer. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anything. At least, in his car they wouldn’t be touching.

  He held open the passenger door for her, and she slid past him to sit down. This was going to be the longest five-block ride ever, she thought as he started the engine.

  They rode in silence until he braked for a stop sign.

  “Did I say something to upset you before our lesson last night?” Hunter asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “No, why?” Ali tried to sound casual, but her voice had an unnaturally high squeak to it.

  “One minute we’re having a friendly conversation, and the next you clam up on me.” He continued to drive, but slower than the posted speed limit. “I thought we were on our way to becoming friends.” He paused. “I’d like to resolve it if I can.”

  Ali chewed the inside of her lip. What was she supposed to say? You’ve got me so hot that I think my underwear melted off. Or maybe she should just straddle him on the leather driver’s side bucket seat and ride him all the way home.

  “No, we’re fine.” She counted down the blocks, relieved to see her red Honda parked in front of Sandy’s house.

  “I probably should have addressed this sooner,” Hunter continued as he pulled up behind her car. “The other night when I…we almost…well, I didn’t mean to offend you by getting too close outside the restaurant.”

  “Well, there’s my car,” she said, stating the obvious. She unbuckled her seat beat and bounded from his car. “I’ll see you at your last lesson.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Hunter sat in his car and watched Ali’s tires practically burn rubber up the street. The arousal he’d battled sitting next to her on the park bleacher had turned into a full-fledged hard-on from the moment she’d sat in his car.

  The soft scent of her perfume lingered in the enclosed space, summoning last night’s dreams to the forefront of his thoughts. A lethal mix of sexy and sweet, Ali continued to haunt his every waking moment.

  In his mind’s eye, he could see her naked in his bed. Her soft lips starting a trail of butterfly kisses beginning at his throat and trailing all the way down to his…

  A car honked in the distance, and Hunter gave himself a mental shake. He rolled down the window to clear his head, before driving off. He should be thinking of Erica. His girlfriend should be the woman he fantasized about all day and couldn’t wait to get into bed at night.

  Besides, he didn’t like the way he and Erica had parted the night of the opera, and it was time he’d remedied it. They needed to sit down and see where their dwindling relationship was going, if anywhere.

  Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he speed-dialed her cell phone number. Voice mail. He tried her house phone. No answer.

  He tossed the phone into the car’s cup holder. Erica was no doubt out somewhere bowing down to the almighty Vivian Cox, and Hunter wanted no part of it.

  Nothing broke the ice like a big, fat check.

  Erica watched the aging socialite’s Botox-frozen face twitch upward in surprise and fought the urge to break into a grin.

  “Oh my!” Vivian Cox clutched the check in her hand. “Aren’t you generous?”

  Erica dismissed the compliment with a wave, hoping the gesture gave the society maven an eyeful of the newest addition to her jewelry collection.

  The ring, a two-carat Pigeon blood ruby encircled by diamonds, was a pricey but perfect complement to the scarlet silk organza gown she’d bought especially for tonight’s Library Ball. Her publicist had snagged her an invitation. Now it was up to Erica to do the rest.

  Appearances were everything with this crowd, and if the expression on the grand dame’s face was any indication, she’d finally made an inroad.

  “On behalf of the foundation, I’d like to thank you. This will go a long way toward expanding the children’s section and the adult literacy program.” Vivian folded the check in half and stuck it inside her silver clutch. “Perhaps you’d like to become a volunteer?”

  Caught off guard by the offer, Erica gaped at the older woman. Vivian wore a white Grecian-style gown accented with tasteful silver embellishments. Her mostly gray hair was swept back into a chignon held in place by a pearl-studded headband.

  “I’ll have to check my schedule,” Erica said, careful to avoid committing herself. Volunteer? She didn’t mind chairing a fund-raiser or contributing to a cause, but she had better things to do than bother with a bunch of bratty kids or people who should have learned to read in elementary school like everyone else.

  She steered the conversation in another direction. “As you know, I’ve applied for membership to both the Ladies’ Lunch League and the country club. I expect they’ll both keep me busy.”

  Vivian looked down at her platinum watch. “Goodness, where’s my mind? I have to check on the champagne.”

  “But I was hoping to talk to you about my—”

  “Sorry, dear, but I must make sure there’s enough bubbly to go around.”

  “But…”

  Vivian disappeared in a whiff of Jo Malone fragrance before she could say another word.

  Erica realized her mouth was still hanging open and pressed her lips together hard to keep from screaming in frustration. Damn it, she had as much money as anyone in this room. Yet the town’s upper crust continued to look through her.

  She glanced around the room. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the opulent ballroom, and couples danced to the orchestra playing in the background. Feeling excluded from the laughter and conversations surrounding her, she toyed with the idea of giving up her quest to become part of this world.

  Images of her mother kept Erica’s feet rooted to her spot on the marble floor. Her mother had dreamed of this life for her, and damn it, she was going to have it.

  Erica squared her bare shoulders. She’d just have to find another chance to corner Vivian before the evening ended. Erica needed to be sure of her support.

  Snatching a flute of the champagne from a waiter bearing a silver tray, Erica downed it in one gulp. Good thing she hadn’t brought Hunter along tonight. He’d shown her up at the opera in front of the Palmers, and she didn’t want to take a chance on his making her look bad again.

  She was especially glad he hadn’t witnessed Vivian taking her check and running in the opposite direction. The last thing she wanted to see right now was an I-told-you-so look from Hunter.

  It was one of the many disapproving looks he’d tossed her way lately,
and she was getting tired of it.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t tired of falling into bed with him, not that they’d done that lately. Her ego was still smarting from his rejection the other night.

  “Looks like you could use another one.”

  Erica abandoned thoughts of Hunter, and her gaze followed the proffered glass to the man holding it. She took in the gold cuff links and flawlessly cut tuxedo. No, he definitely wasn’t a waiter. Tall, trim, and undeniably elegant, this man belonged.

  Erica accepted the champagne with a slight incline of her head. She’d noticed him earlier talking to the McAdamses, owners of one of the region’s largest black-owned banks, and the Con-ways, who owned a string of luxury car dealerships throughout the state. He’d even brought a smile to the Palmers’ lemon-sucking faces.

  She took a sip of champagne, peering at him over the glass. He was attractive. Not in Hunter’s blatantly sexy toss-me-over-your-shoulder-and-take-me way; his appeal was subtle. His presence whispered wealth, privilege, and class.

  Though his smooth butterscotch skin gave no hints to his age, she estimated him to be over thirty.

  Distinguished and classy, she thought. Getting to know him might open some doors that had been slammed shut in her face.

  “Would you believe me if I said you’re the most beautiful woman in the room?”

  She was ready to laugh off the obvious line, when he caught her gaze and held it. His light brown eyes radiated sincerity.

  “I might,” she said with a hint of a giggle. Though she was not usually one to giggle or flirt, drinking on an empty stomach made her want to do both.

  “In this sea of dull, basic black, you have the spirit to dazzle in red.”

  Erica had indeed noted the invitation called for guests to dress in black or white. Still, she’d chosen red to be noticed.

  And she finally had been.

  The smooth melodious lilt of his cultured southern accent dropped an octave. “I like it.”

  Erica’s shoulders straightened at the compliment.

  “By the way, I’m Taj St. John.”

  “Erica Boyd.”

  “Please to make your acquaintance…” He paused to look pointedly at the bare ring finger on her left hand. “Miss Boyd?”

  “Yes, it’s still Miss.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He glanced around them. “Now, where’s the man I’m bound to upset by monopolizing your time this evening?”

  “My date had an emergency tonight.” She’d been stood up by Hunter’s job so many times, the easy lie felt like the truth.

  Taj smiled as if she’d just handed him the gift he’d been wanting for ages. “It must have been something big for him to leave someone who looks like you on her own.”

  A delicious shiver ran through her at the compliment.

  “And where’s the lucky lady with you tonight?” She managed to hide her excitement behind practiced nonchalance.

  “I’m standing with her now.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Erica said. “You appear to be a man in demand.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “So you noticed me too?” Before she could answer, he added, “Those conversations were just business. Talking to you, so far, has been pure pleasure.”

  “So, what is your business, Mr. St. John?”

  “Taj,” he corrected. “Investments. I’m a personal finance adviser. And what is it you do besides dazzle at parties?”

  She stifled her knee-jerk response of being a former nurse. “I’m a philanthropist.”

  Erica felt the most delicious buzz at saying the words aloud. Or maybe it was the champagne? Then she felt it again.

  Her satin clutch was vibrating.

  “Excuse me,” she said, snapping open the purse and retrieving her cell phone. Hunter’s name and number flashed across the tiny screen. She powered down the phone and stuck it back into her purse.

  She’d finally met someone interesting, and she wasn’t about to blow it talking to Hunter. More than likely, all he wanted to do was complain about the latest person she’d supposedly snubbed or insulted. He’d probably heard about her brushing Sandy and her mother off when she’d run into them downtown and was calling to make her feel guilty.

  “Are you sure you don’t need to call them back?” Taj asked. His liquid brown eyes stared down at hers. “It could be your date calling to make amends.”

  “Then maybe he should stew a bit,” Erica said, meaning every word.

  Taj extended his arm. “Dance with me. It would be a shame not to show off that beautiful gown on the dance floor.”

  Erica allowed herself to be swept up in his arms. Her cheek brushed against his jaw. She couldn’t help comparing its clean-shaven smoothness to the stubble of Hunter’s ever-present after-five shadow.

  A woman of her status deserved to be in the arms of a charismatic man who effortlessly charmed people in high places.

  Erica sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. The scent of his expensive cologne made her want to melt into his arms. He centered his hand on her lower back and drew her closer.

  This was the kind of man she needed. One who could help her garner the recognition she deserved.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sandy was already seated when Ali arrived at the coffeehouse, her hands wrapped around a cup brimming with froth and chocolate sprinkles.

  “I overslept.” Ali shrugged off her tote and took a seat on a plush velvet chair next to her. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  She left out the part about thoughts of Hunter keeping her up half the night. In reality, Ali knew he was hands-off, but in her dreams she could allow herself to imagine what it would feel like to touch him and finally give in to the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

  By the time she’d finally drifted into a deep sleep, it had been time for her to wake up.

  Sandy gave her a dismissive wave. “After the morning chaos of getting the boys up, fed, dressed, and off to their various schools and preschools, it feels good to just sit here and breathe.”

  She took a deep sip from her coffee mug and eased back into her chair.

  “So, how was pizza last night?” Ali gave her new friend a pointed look.

  “Was I that obvious?”

  Ali nodded. “You practically pushed me into the car with the man.”

  Sandy sighed. “I know, but when I see you two together, I can practically see the sparks flying off you. All you need is a little shove in the right direction.”

  Ali shook her head. “It’s not going to happen, Sandy. Hunter has a girlfriend, and from what I can tell he’s very much in love with her.”

  “It’s not love.” Sandy rolled her eyes skyward. “I’ve seen them together, and the light he used to have in his eyes when he looked at her dimmed a long time ago.” Sandy leaned on the arm of her chair toward Ali. “Now the only time I see Hunter’s eyes light up is when he looks at you.”

  Ali shook her head. Sandy was mistaken. Hunter had barely said a word to her at the game last night, and he hadn’t looked pleased to be stuck sitting beside her.

  “Ali, I believe Hunter fell out of love with Erica a long time ago,” Sandy continued. “All he really feels for her now is loyalty.”

  “Loyalty?” Ali broke her struggle to appear blasé.

  “Hunter cares about Erica. He doesn’t want her money and ambition to get her into trouble,” Sandy said. “But that’s a long way from being in love with her.”

  Ali tried to quell the hope bubbling up in her chest. Sandy was wrong, she told herself. Besides, even if she wasn’t, Hunter was still in a relationship. Ali would never do anything to interfere. No matter how she felt about him.

  “Aren’t you having coffee?” Sandy asked.

  “I’ll grab some in a bit,” Ali said.

  Silently, she reminded herself she hadn’t met Sandy to talk about Hunter. “Actually, I’m eager, make that desperate, to brainstorm some ideas with you for the school,” Ali said, changing the subject.r />
  Sandy straightened in her seat and placed her drink on the table beside it. “Well, I already called the mothers with sons in Little League and Cub Scouts with my boys,” she said. “And I tell you, they were thrilled at the prospect of transforming their monsters into little gentlemen. I only wish I could enroll Pete along with the boys. He could do with a brush-up course on table manners.”

  Ali couldn’t help smiling at her new friend’s conspiratorial tone.

  “We cover more than just dining etiquette. My boys’ classes also cover telephone manners, good sportsmanship, and grooming. Even the proper way to tie a necktie.”

  “I’ll pay you double if you manage to accomplish all of that with mine,” Sandy said.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Ali said. “And thanks.”

  Sandy waved her off. “I wish I could have come up with something more helpful,” she said. “Anyway, you should be hearing from some of the mothers soon. I know a few boys won’t be enough to get the school back in the black, but it’s a start.”

  “I’ll just have to figure out a way to build on it,” Ali said. “And to tide us over financially.”

  “Have you considered taking out a business loan?”

  Ali groaned. “I don’t think there’s much chance of a bank granting us a loan in the current economic climate. Not with our declining revenues,” she said. “However, I do have a job interview at the local paper. If I land it, I plan to plow the bulk of my salary into the school.”

  Ali felt Sandy’s hand on her arm. “Good luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it. Who wouldn’t want to hire someone like you?”

  “Thanks,” Ali said, feeling genuinely touched by the gesture of friendship.

  Still, deep down, she couldn’t help wondering if their efforts would do any good. She was starting to feel as though an etiquette school in the twenty-first century was much like the building housing the Spencer School: hopelessly out of date.

  “Oh, are you mall-walking today?” Ali asked, hoping some physical activity would brighten her perspective. “You’ve inspired me to start getting in shape.”