Macks closed the leaded stained-glass front door and disappeared down the cherry mahogany hallway. The flooring was the only thing Felicity’s imagination had gotten right. The living room, which was to the left, was furnished with expensive-looking pieces that were surprisingly minimalist and modern. Except for the dark wooden floor, the room was done in monochromatic white and punctuated with pops of color from artwork on the wall. Clearly expensive fine art. A freeform sculpture that looked like Chihuly glass was lit in one corner. On the opposite wall was a life-size roughhewn stone sculpture of a man’s naked torso showcased from throat to muscular midthigh. It was very lifelike and...um...erect. Felicity felt her cheeks warm.
Now, that was a conversation starter if she’d ever seen one. Did Mr. Erectus have a first name? Was Macks personally acquainted? No? Would she like to be? He looked like a strapping young man. Maybe Macks could date him instead of Austin?
Just an idea.
Felicity sighed. She should’ve called the courier. Because meeting perfect Macks and standing here inside her perfect home was akin to watching a disturbing scene in a movie. She knew she should’ve closed her eyes, looked the other way. But she didn’t. Now she couldn’t unsee the reality.
No wonder Austin had been flirting like a schoolboy.
“Here you go.” Macks’s melodic voice echoed as she approached, one bangle-clad arm outstretched, dangling a twenty-dollar bill from her perfectly French-manicured fingers. “This is for you—what did you say your name was?”
I didn’t.
“I’m Felicity. I’m Austin’s assistant. I was in the area on my way to another appointment. I told him I’d drop off the package. So, I can’t accept that.” She gestured to the money. “Thank you, though.”
Felicity flashed her best smile.
Macks was looking at her in a different, more appraising way. “Austin didn’t mention that his assistant was so pretty.”
Austin had mentioned her?
Maybe in passing. I’ll make sure my assistant puts our first date on the books.
But he hadn’t asked her to reserve a date or make a reservation or—
“Thank you, Felicity.” Macks’s voice had regained its self-assured, slightly superior tone. She gracefully reached around and opened the front door. Felicity’s cue to leave.
“It was lovely meeting you,” Macks said. “I’m sure this won’t be the last time we’ll see each other.”
* * *
“This makeover was a great idea,” Felicity said. “I’m glad you roped me into this hair show.”
“I didn’t intend to rope you into anything,” Maia said as she swiped the blending brush over Felicity’s face before stepping back and admiring her work like a master artist.
“Roped or not, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here tonight if not for the hair show.” Felicity stared at herself in the mirror, turning her head this way and that. “Even if it was a ploy, it’s okay.”
The makeover was subtle. The cut made her hair bouncy. The modest highlights made it shiny. Maia had applied just enough makeup so that Felicity looked polished and put together. This new, more professional look would come in handy when she started interviewing for jobs at the end of the month. Because if Austin had a girlfriend, she did not want to watch it unfold from the front row seat of Fortune Investments.
Even if the money was good, mooning over her boss and his new girlfriend wasn’t. She’d been at Austin’s beck and call since she’d started working for him. Her job had dominated her life. She hadn’t even dated anyone seriously since college. Sure, she’d told herself that she didn’t have time to date. And to what end?
Even if Macks had called her pretty, ultimately, she’d sized Felicity up and decided she wasn’t a threat. Of course she wasn’t. Austin Fortune dated women like Macks Cole, not Felicity Schafer.
She ran her fingers through her honey blond hair, letting the locks fall through her fingers and cascade onto her shoulders. The highlights were understated. They looked natural, as if her hair had been kissed by the sun.
The FI charity ball was two weeks before her graduation. She would focus on getting through the ball and then put her energy into finding a new job and hiring her replacement.
She nodded as if confirming the plan to herself.
“So, you like?” Maia asked, handing Felicity a mirror and turning her around so she could view the back of her head.
“I love it. I have to admit, I was a little bit skeptical. I didn’t know what to expect. I thought you might do something a little more extreme for the show tomorrow.”
It was a relief compared to what she’d feared as she’d watched Maia cover her head in foil rectangles that fanned out in all directions, making her feel like some kind of a space-age creature that could transmit radio waves.
Maia smiled at her approvingly. “Didn’t I tell you? This show is about everyday, polished looks. There are some shows where they want looks that are pretty out there. But this is you, only better. Right?”
“What? Like Felicity 6.0?”
“More like Felicity 10.0.” Maia laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. You were perfect exactly the way you were. You’re lucky, you can pull off the no-makeup, girl-next-door look, but it doesn’t hurt to change things up every once in a while. Who knows, maybe this will make the Beast finally notice you.”
Heat flooded Felicity cheeks.
“Maia, shhhh.” Felicity pressed her index finger to her lips and looked around to see if anyone in the bustling salon was listening. As if anyone knew who the Beast was or would be interested in a twenty-seven-year-old woman’s secret crush. Her cheeks warmed again at the ridiculous thought.
Still, she didn’t want to talk about him in the busy salon. The last thing she needed was for someone to recognize her as his assistant and put two and two together and report back that she’d been talking about him. Stranger things could happen.
Austin was a prominent New Orleans business figure. More than one magazine had named him one of New Orleans’s most eligible bachelors. During the time she’d been his assistant, one woman had befriended her with the ulterior motive of getting closer to Austin. Another woman had been more up-front about her purpose. She’d approached Felicity in a restaurant bathroom and said, “You’re Austin Fortune’s assistant, aren’t you?” It was more than a little creepy since she’d never met the woman. She’d handed Felicity her card. “Will you please have him call me?”
The card had her name, Beverly Sands, and a phone number. Nothing else. “Is this a business matter?” Felicity had asked because she didn’t want to take a chance of offending a potential client.
“Oh, no, this isn’t about business. I’m a florist. I want to meet him since I’m going to marry him.” She’d laughed and for a minute, Felicity thought she was joking and was about to hand back the card. But there was something in the petite brunette’s eyes that was a little crazed. Crazy eyes, that was the way Felicity had described her to Austin. Big, round blue eyes that didn’t blink as she continuously nodded her head while she talked.
They were alone in the restroom. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, Felicity said she would relay the message. That afternoon, a big bouquet of flowers arrived for Felicity. The card said, Thanks for hooking me up. Love, your friend, Bev.
She’d showed the flowers to Austin. Since they knew Beverly’s name and place of employment from the envelope that came with the card attached to the flowers, they were able to find her photo on social media. Austin had supplied the information to security and had insisted on walking Felicity to her car for a solid month. They’d never heard from Bev again, but it had been a good lesson that people may know more than you realize.
Austin was a smart man. Even if a good portion of New Orleans’s female population was in love with him, if word got back to him that someone of Felicity’s description was mooning ov
er him in Maia’s salon, it wouldn’t take long for him to connect the dots back to her.
She’d worked for him all this time without divulging her secret. Why would she want to spill the beans now?
A little voice in the back of her head screamed, Because when you quit, you’re not going to be working for him anymore. You’ll be free to make your move. If you don’t, Macks will get him. Go for it!
But that was the thing. She didn’t want to be the one to make the move. Was it so wrong to be old-fashioned? To want him to make the first move? Even if he hadn’t even given the slightest hint of interest. Even if he didn’t see her that way. Plain and simple. She’d humiliate herself if she told him her feelings.
During the time that she’d been his personal assistant, he hadn’t been serious about anyone. And she would know because she kept his calendar and scheduled practically every detail of his life, even the occasional first date that never led to a second.
Most wives didn’t know their husbands as well as she knew Austin.
She knew that his favorite music was jazz. His childhood pet was a yellow Lab named Bandit. He liked his coffee strong and black. She had it ready for him every morning. He wasn’t very talkative in the morning. Even though he got to the office at the crack of dawn, he needed a moment to read the Times-Picayune and drink his strong, black coffee, letting the caffeine get into his bloodstream before he was fit to see anyone. His family was the only thing that ever came before work. He had a sweet tooth, which he indulged in moderation, and she blocked off time for him to have daily workouts, which allowed him to enjoy his treats and stay healthy.
Austin Fortune had said it himself. She was his right hand. She anticipated his every mood. She knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, understanding what made him happy and how to preempt the things that didn’t. She was his gatekeeper. If anyone wanted to get to him, they had to go through her. Yet, somehow Macks had managed to infiltrate.
Since Austin didn’t seem to mind, it was out of her hands.
“There’s my best girl.” A blond guy walked over and hugged Maia.
“Hey, handsome,” she said in her flirty voice.
Who was this? Did Maia have a guy in her life? Why hadn’t she mentioned him?
“Thanks for fitting me in on such short notice.”
Okay. Maybe he was a client.
Maia prided herself on forming strong bonds with her clients. That’s why her business was booming.
But his hair was very short. He didn’t look like a haircut emergency. Then again, Felicity was not an expert in this arena. Maybe it was a special cut that needed to be meticulously maintained?
“Yeah, hon, have a seat right there. I’ve just finished up with Felicity. Have you met Felicity?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure. Kevin Clooney.” He offered his hand and Felicity pulled hers out from under the cape she’d been wearing while Maia cut her hair. Kevin held her hand a little too long, his eyes sweeping over her face and his mouth widening into a broad smile.
“Felicity Schafer,” she said. “I’m Maia’s neighbor.”
“Maia, babe, you’ve been holding out on me,” said Kevin. “I can’t believe you haven’t introduced us before now. I’m in love.”
Okay, bring it down a notch or two, bud. People are staring.
They were. The woman in the station next to Maia’s was alternately exchanging glances with Mark, her burly, bald, tattooed hairdresser, and grinning at Felicity and Kevin.
“Felicity is my model for a show tomorrow night,” Maia said, as she wet Kevin’s hair with water from a spray bottle and combed it through.
Kevin nodded. “You look gorgeous.”
Was he flirting with her? “Maia does good work.”
“It’s easy to do good work when you start with such a good canvas,” he said.
“True,” said Maia.
As much as Felicity hated it, she felt heat bloom in her cheeks. Doing her best to channel her inner Macks, she pushed her shoulders back, lifted her chin and looked him directly in the eyes. “You’re a flirt, aren’t you, Kevin?”
Maia snorted. Kevin laughed and so did Felicity.
“He might have been called that once or twice,” Maia said.
Kevin held up his hands in a show of surrender. “All I’m saying is that you two are going to own that hair show.”
“Yeah, we are,” Maia said, her scissors flying as she sheared fractions of an inch off Kevin’s hair.
Felicity was just about to say goodbye when Kevin asked, “Is this hair show industry only or is it open to the public?”
“Why?” Maia asked. “Do you want to go? I can get you a ticket if you do.”
He slanted a glance at Felicity. “I’d love to. Maybe the three of us could go out for drinks afterward.”
“It’s a date,” said Maia.
A date, huh? Felicity had a suspicious feeling she’d just been set up. Maia knew she’d be in the salon. She just happened to fit in Kevin for a haircut he didn’t really need.
But Kevin was cute, and he seemed fun. She could give him a chance. She didn’t have to marry the guy. If Austin was seeing Macks, maybe having drinks with a cute, fun guy was exactly what she needed.
* * *
Austin got to the office at a quarter to seven Monday morning. Felicity was already sitting at her desk working at her computer, as usual. As he walked by and grabbed the cup of coffee she had waiting for him on the corner of her desk, something made him do a double take and stop.
“May I help you?” She kept typing and didn’t look away from her computer. She had used her smart-alecky voice. The tone she took when she was about to point out the obvious after he’d been painfully obtuse about something. The voice that would soften later and allow them to laugh at whatever it was that needed correcting.
“Something’s different,” he said, studying her.
She lifted her brows at him and that’s when he realized she was wearing makeup. Or at least more makeup than she usually wore. Did she wear makeup? Was it politically correct to tell her he’d noticed?
“You cut your hair.” It was a statement. Not a judgment.
“I did.” She ran her fingers through the silky-looking strands.
Silky-looking. Now, admitting that might get him into trouble.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“If I say it looks nice, it won’t offend you or make you feel compromised or objectified, will it?”
Her eyes flashed and there was the briefest second before she burst out laughing.
“Austin, I asked you what you thought. I’m certainly not going to run and file a harassment charge with Human Resources.”
“Okay, then. I like your haircut. It looks nice. You look nice.”
She smiled and did that fingers-through-the-hair thing again. This time he noticed that her hair was shiny and that pieces that caught the light were the color of honey.
“Thank you, Austin. You, on the other hand, could use a haircut. You’re looking a little untamed there. Do you want me to schedule one for you?”
Now it was his turn to run his fingers through his mop. She was right; it was a little long. “Sure, that would be great. Thanks.”
He turned to go, but Felicity said, “Oh, hey, listen. I need to leave at five o’clock again.”
She had every right to leave at five. But when he worked late, it was always nice to know she was there, too. Often, it would just be the two of them in the office until late and she’d buzz him and say, “Austin, go home. The work will be here tomorrow.”
It’s not that he needed her to remind him—well, maybe he did. He liked the office better than home. What was he going to do if she left?
“Do you have something with school going on?” he asked, and added before she could answer, “Be sure to let me know t
he date of your graduation so I get it on my calendar.”
“I’ve already put it on your calendar. And no, tonight is not about school. I have a date.”
A date? Felicity dates?
That was another one of those obtuse questions that would send her into smart-aleck mode. Why wouldn’t Felicity date? She was beautiful and smart and she had a smokin’ hot bod, curves in all the right places. Okay, that was definitely the kind of comment that would send her down the hall to HR faster than he could tell her he hadn’t meant anything offensive by it. It was just a fact—like the honey-gold highlights in her hair and the pink stain on her bee-stung lips.
Why was he thinking about this now? And when did Felicity have time to date when she was always working late with him?
“Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked, trying not to look at her lips.
“It’s a guy named Kevin Clooney. My friend Maia introduced us. We hung out on Saturday.”
“Kevin Clooney?” he asked. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“You’re probably thinking George Clooney, the actor. No relation.”
No. That wasn’t what he was thinking, but—
“You’ll get to meet him because he’s picking me up at the office.”
“Don’t you think you should meet him out the first few dates? You don’t know this guy. He could be some kind of sociopath.”
She squinted at him. “Austin, I thought him picking me up from work was gentlemanly. He’s not a sociopath. He’s been a client of my neighbor Maia’s for years.”
“Yeah, but you never know. You can’t be too careful these days.”
He should’ve been more careful when his ex-wife Kelly swooped into his life. He’d been duped. Such an easy mark. He didn’t want Felicity to rush into anything and find herself in a bad situation.
She was smiling at him now. “Thank you for caring.”
He grunted. “Of course.”
I care about you. I’ll rip the SOB’s head off if he doesn’t treat you right.
Felicity bit her bottom lip, which made him look at her mouth again. Thank God she was studying her computer screen, so she didn’t see him looking.
A Fortunate Arrangement Page 4