by Zuri Day
The names of several locations were thrown on the table—from Sydney to Madagascar, to islands everywhere. As he listened, Christian pushed a button that turned the wall behind him into a screen and pulled out a pointer.
“All excellent ideas, guys, but none that are close. How about this choice?” He tapped his keyboard and on the screen came the outline of a country and one word, Djibouti.
“Where in the world is that?” half-hearted number one asked.
“Africa,” another man answered.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said half-hearted number two, his skepticism and dislike for Christian barely concealed. “No one’s going on vacation to that part of Africa.”
“A few years ago,” Christian calmly countered, “that’s what was being said about the Middle East, specifically the United Arab Emirates. Yet Dubai became a rich man’s playground. In the next hour or two, the team leading this international effort and I will lay out the vision for this admittedly ambitious endeavor. I have not only faith in this vision but months of research and analysis behind me, and believe as did one wise farmer, and I paraphrase, if we build it correctly, the wealthy of the world will come. Why does the team so fervently believe this?”
Christian’s nearly onyx eyes sparkled as he looked around the table. “Because we’re CANN.”
* * *
Back in Breedlove, Lauren also believed she could. She was confident in her abilities to properly assist Victoria, to make the upcoming fashion show the best that Vegas had ever seen. Even with a severely sprained ankle, as had been the news from her nine o’clock appointment with the podiatrist that Dr. Burman had recommended. It was a second degree sprain. The doctor assured Lauren that she’d be back jogging in four to six weeks.
Meanwhile, she’d gotten permission from Victoria to work from home and turned her dining room into an office. Sitting at the table, she fired up her laptop and opened a spreadsheet to chart out the tasks that needed completion and a timeline for making them happen. She’d just hobbled from the kitchen to the dining room with her microwaved tea when someone laid on the doorbell.
WTH?
“Coming!” She put down the mug, picked up the second crutch and crossed the room. She looked through the peephole. It was no one she recognized, but knowing how tight security was on the estate, she opened the door and would later pride herself on maintaining a solemn expression.
“Yes, may I help you?”
“Probably, Lauren, but I’m here to help you. Miss Vickie sent me over, said you could use an assistant, and from that muumuu-looking thing you’re wearing, girl, I can see that she was right!”
“Excuse me?”
“I shall, and gladly, because when you got dressed this morning you didn’t know me yet. Now can you let me in, because otherwise trying to work together with a screen door between us is going to be problematic.”
Lauren listened to this rapidly delivered comment while taking in a man at least six feet tall, sharply dressed and flipping a perfectly coiffed shoulder-length bob away from a stunningly made-up face. As the teen girls she’d once mentored in DC would have said, his hair slayed and his face was beat. He stood in his truth with such confidence and authority that instead of being offended, she was humored and a little impressed. She unlocked the outer door and stepped back. The gentleman entered with a big smile and wide-open arms. He bent to embrace her.
“Hi, Lauren! I’m Frankie. It’s so nice to meet you!”
“Me, too, I think.” They both laughed. “When I spoke with Victoria this morning, she didn’t mention anyone coming by.”
“She told me I’d surprise you. Do you need help back to...” Frankie looked around. “Wherever you’re sitting? This is nice,” he continued without taking a breath, walking farther into the room and proving that if Lauren did need help she was on her own. “Miss Vickie’s style is all over this place.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he continued as Lauren neared him. “Look at me seeing beauty and getting all carried away.”
“Thank you, I’m fine.” Lauren continued past him, noting the six-inch Louboutins giving Frankie extra height. “And what’s wrong with my caftan?”
“Nothing that a Goodwill donation bin won’t cure.”
“Ha! You’re funny.”
“Laughter is the best medicine, child, and I’m trying to stay healthy. I see you’re setting up shop in the dining room. How are you going to use those poster boards?”
“In lieu of a whiteboard, taped to the wall. Organizing projects on the board helps me stay organized in my mind. What is your skill set? By looking at you I’d guess it’s the fashion world.”
“That’s one set, but don’t let all of this fashion fabulosity fool you. I type eighty-five words a minute and can file papers better than my manicurist files my nails.” He set a tote he carried on the table and pulled out a small laptop. “But yes, fashion is my passion. I love me some Ace Montgomery, honey. I don’t know him personally but I have several friends in the industry, designers and models, male and female.”
“Do you know London?”
“Ace’s wife? Not yet. But if she comes to the show this weekend, I expect she and I will become the best of friends.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me at all. Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you. Caffeine causes wrinkles.”
“It’s herbal, but thanks for the health information,” Lauren finished sarcastically.
“Always grateful to be of service.”
Said by Frankie so sincerely that Lauren laughed out loud. She took a seat at the table.
“Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lauren wanted to get better acquainted with Frankie, who was quite a character, but later for that. There was a fashion show to finish coordinating. She’d promised Victoria an update at the end of the day, and with her newfound friend here to help her, Lauren was sure the report would be as good as her uplifted mood.
Nine
The week was a whirlwind of tweaking, adjusting and putting out fires. By Saturday night, Lauren and Frankie were best buds and as they stepped into the grand ballroom, redesigned as a Valentine-themed fashion fantasy, both knew the long hours and sleepless nights had all been worth it.
Grand chandeliers anchored yards—perhaps miles—of snowy white and fire-engine-red tulle covering the mass ceiling. Textured silk fabric adorned the walls. Five hundred cushioned chairs at tables for ten had been draped with designer organza tied with satin bows. Special risers had been installed to give each donor attending an unobstructed view. Dividing the room was a T-shaped runway that ran twice the length of a bowling lane, outlined with red Ecuadorian roses. Tucked in one corner was a ten-piece orchestra underscoring the fanciful scene with the classically romantic renderings of Tchaikovsky and Chopin, Puccini and Liszt. Lauren was almost moved to tears but couldn’t be sure whether it was from the room’s stunning beauty or lack of sleep.
“You did it, mama,” Frankie whispered. Clearly, the room’s beauty had moved him, too.
“We did it.” Lauren turned toward him. “Seriously, I could not have done this without you. Which is why as of this moment you are officially off the clock and ordered to take your seat at table number two.”
Frankie’s jaw dropped. “Girl, don’t play with me.”
Lauren laughed. “I’m not.”
“But what about you? I can’t know you’re still working and enjoy myself.”
“Don’t worry. I plan to join you. I’m just going to take one last walk-through and make sure everything’s set.”
Frankie gave Lauren an enthusiastic hug. “Thank you, girl. This feels like Christmas and the Fourth of July at the same time.” He looked beyond Lauren’s shoulder. “And Lord help me if I couldn’t have some fireworks with that fine man right there!”
Lauren turned, expe
cting to see Ace or one of the male models. Instead, it was Christian heading her way.
“You go on and handle that, girlfriend,” Frankie whispered. “I’m going to take my seat.”
Lauren braced herself against the onslaught of desire guaranteed to erupt when their eyes connected. Now thankful for Frankie’s earlier insistence that she dress to impress, she felt girlie, almost beautiful, in the silky kimono mini that draped her body and teased her skin. An unbidden image flashed through her mind—Christian’s full, masculine lips replacing the fabric that kissed her flesh. As quickly as it appeared, she shut her mind against it. Christian was a tempting morsel. He was also Victoria’s eldest and unlike her father, Lauren had reversed her plans to get entangled with a boss’s son.
“Good evening, Lauren.”
She nodded slightly. “Christian.”
“You’re looking stunning and a bit...uncomfortable?”
“No, not at all. I just...didn’t plan to see you here.”
“Where else would I be? The foundation is my mother’s passion but very important to all of us.” Christian paused, looked around. “Is this your handiwork?”
“I had help.”
His eyes narrowed as they shifted from the room’s decor to Lauren’s face. An expression as tantalizing as it was unreadable sent a blast of heat to her core. What was it about this guy, she wondered, that lit her body up like a match?
“When it comes to glorious achievements, one should never be coy.”
“That’s not my intention. I believe in giving credit where it is due. A lot of people helped pull this day together, with Frankie, my assistant for the show, topping the list.”
Lauren finished speaking but Christian’s eyes remained on her lips.
“What are you doing?”
“Remembering...”
One word drew dew from her feminine flower as Lauren was immediately transported back to last Sunday and his master suite. His kiss. Those touches. A promise waiting to be fulfilled, but one that couldn’t, shouldn’t happen. For the umpteenth time she’d flip-flopped back to her original position. Christian was off-limits. It wasn’t what she wanted, but being the professional that she was, she knew it was the right thing to do.
“Yes, about that...”
Before Lauren could finish responding, they were interrupted by a harried assistant.
“Excuse me, Lauren. The social media campaign is crazy. Operators can’t keep up. Can you come help us sort it out?”
“Sure.” She turned to Christian, glad beyond words to be leaving his fine but mentally disruptive presence. “Enjoy the show.”
Two hours later, the fashion show was over. Every piece of the puzzle had been placed to perfection. Wearing a heart-shaped dress made out of candy, celebrity model London Drake Montgomery had made the finale a showstopper, and Lauren’s idea to auction off lunch dates with the male models had exceeded all expectations. Within minutes of the show ending, Victoria relayed great news. The show had set a record by raising more money than any other charity event to date.
Lauren was exhausted but giddy with excitement, not only because of the considerable buzz that had been created due to a social media marketing campaign she’d designed but also because Victoria had been gracious enough to fly Lauren’s mother out for the event and put her up in one of the hotel’s suites. Earlier there’d only been time for a quick hug, but they would spend the next two days together. Lauren had her luggage delivered there and had broken away from the crowd of well-wishers long enough to go and freshen up before joining Victoria, her mom and a few others for a late-night dinner.
It was the first time she was visiting Taste Test, one of ten restaurants spread throughout the CANN Casino, Hotel and Spa. She was more than ready. With her stomach having been in knots all day, Lauren hadn’t been able to eat a thing. But now, with everything over and labeled a success, her appetite had come back in full force. Not even the throbbing ankle could wipe the smile off her face. The pain medication made her sleepy, and she didn’t like taking drugs anyway. So she’d distracted herself from the ache with delicious food. Taste Test had received amazing reviews. She was about to judge for herself.
It was hard to be sexy on crutches. By the time she’d taken the elevator and navigated through the crowded hallways, Lauren almost wished she’d taken Frankie’s advice to arrange for a blinged-out wheelchair and be chauffeured around. Lauren reached the hostess stand.
“Good evening! Bless your heart, can we get some assistance for you, a wheelchair perhaps?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m here for dinner with Victoria Breedlove. I’m Lauren Hart.”
“Yes, Ms. Hart. Right this way.”
Lauren followed the hostess down a hallway opposite the main dining room. There were a series of closed doors. She stopped at the first one on the right, gave a light tap and opened the door.
“Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you.”
“There you are!” Victoria said, rising to greet her.
“I knew I should have gone up to help her,” Faye said.
“No way.” Lauren hugged Victoria. “Mom is staying for such a short time. I wanted you two to catch up.”
“Sit there, darling,” Victoria said, pointing to one of two empty chairs between Victoria and Faye.
Lauren complied and after a quick hug greeted the designer Ace, his wife London, and two foundation board members she’d met earlier in the day.
“Where’s Frankie?” she asked, with a nod at the empty chair beside her.
“I have no idea,” Victoria said.
“Perhaps trying his luck at a blackjack table,” Ace offered.
“Not Frankie,” Lauren countered. “He’d never spend money gambling when there are designer shops nearby.”
While the rest of the table continued to chat, Lauren folded her crutches. She bent over to place them under the table, out of the way of the other guests, then heard the door open. Frankie, she thought, glad that Victoria had invited him to join them. Like Lauren, Victoria also knew he’d been a generous contributor to the show’s overall success.
“My man!” Ace exclaimed.
She straightened, ready to laugh at Frankie’s response, and her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t Frankie. It was the one and only man who could enter a room and change her temperature.
“Not this evening. You’re the man,” Christian replied, offering Ace a fist bump before kissing London on the cheek. “Good evening, everyone.”
He waved at the board members, spoke briefly to Faye and continued around the table to Victoria. “Hello, gorgeous,” he said, as he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“Hi, son. Gorgeous is the one you’re sitting beside. The most beautiful woman walking on crutches that I’ve ever seen.”
“I agree with you,” he replied, drinking in Lauren with his smoldering dark eyes.
“I have Ace and the HER collection to thank for that,” Lauren said, referring to her kimono. “He and Frankie, who insisted on covering my bandage with the crystal-covered bootee.”
“I’m kind of digging the bootee,” London said. “You just might start a trend.”
“Hello, beautiful.”
Is it my imagination or did the room and everyone in it just fade away?
“Hello, Christian,” Lauren answered.
He gave her cheek a whisper of a kiss, brushing his warm lips across her skin. Wreaking havoc on her body, as always.
“Congratulations on a job well done. The show was amazing.”
“Thank you,” she murmured softly. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it. Ace is my favorite designer.”
Victoria feigned a cough. “I thought it was because mine was your favorite foundation.”
“That goes without saying.”
&
nbsp; “Were you aware that tonight’s fund-raiser was our most successful so far?” his mother asked.
“Really? Even more so than last year’s golf tournament?”
“Absolutely,” Victoria replied. “And we have Lauren’s innovative and highly progressive marketing skills to thank for that.”
“It was a team effort,” Lauren said.
“To put on the affair indeed took a village. But your ingenious auctions for dates with the models and jewelry sold on social media allowed us to raise almost as much money from those who weren’t in attendance as we did from those who purchased tickets and clothes.”
“Interesting,” Christian said, curiosity and a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Tell me more.”
Lauren explained how after finding out about London’s new jewelry line, she got the idea to present those items on social media, in limited quantities, to the highest bidder. Because of the short setup time frame, bids were limited to those within the United States. “Had it been opened internationally,” she finished, “we would have easily doubled what was made.”
Christian nodded. “I’d love to see the video.”
“I’ll send it to you.”
“Perfect timing,” Victoria announced as several servers arrived with the group’s first course, each carrying two plates, and placed them down simultaneously. “Enough about CANN for one day. Let’s talk about something really important.”
She looked at London. “Like how someone who just had a baby four weeks ago can look absolutely fantastic!”
“Not to sound chauvinistic, but that sounds like a conversation for ladies’ night out.” Ace laughed at the immediate looks of indignation and hurried on to escape rebuttals. “Let’s talk about something we can all participate in, like a trip to Paris by private plane. I heard someone at the table just got one.”