Substitute Seduction

“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” she said. “What makes you think I’m interested in you that way?”

“The fact that you’re still here discussing it with me instead of kicking me to the curb.”

“Do you honestly think you’re the first client who has hit on me?”

“I’m sure I’m not.” He didn’t look at all concerned by her attitude. “But I’m guessing you’re going to give me a different answer than all the others.”

It pained her that he was right. Nor could she console herself with the falsehood that she would turn him down flat if it wasn’t for this pact she’d made with Zoe and Everly.

“I’ll have dinner with you tonight,” she said. “But I get to pick the place and I’ll meet you there.”

“And I promise to behave like a proper gentleman.”

She snorted. “There’s nothing proper or gentlemanly about you, I think.” A delicious shiver worked its way down her spine at the thought. “Do you agree to my conditions?”

“If they make you feel safe, then how can I not?”

His use of the word safe made her bristle. She hadn’t set conditions because of any nervousness she felt around him, but to make him understand that she wasn’t one of those women who flatter and swoon all in the hope of achieving that elusive five-carat sparkler for their left hand.

“How about we meet at The Front Porch at eight o’clock.”

“That’s perfect.”

She then steered the conversation back to the original reason for their meeting. “It would be a good idea if we could meet next week and check out a couple of the venues,” she told him, already having a pretty good idea of the sort of elegant evening she intended to organize.

“I’ll be back in town next Monday and Tuesday.”

She picked up her phone and pulled up her calendar. “I’m open Monday afternoon, say two o’clock? The faster we book a location, the sooner we can start working on the details. And I’ll pull some ideas together and send them along to you this week.”

“Sounds great.”

They’d arrived at an obvious end to their meeting and Harrison stood. As London escorted him to the front door, he asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to come watch me race in Richmond?”

London’s eyes flicked to her receptionist. Missy was paying rapt attention to their exchange without actually staring at them. Heat bloomed beneath London’s skin as she realized that word would soon spread about Harrison’s invitation.

“I don’t know...”

“You could bring your friend. Maribelle, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” To her dismay, London’s mood had dipped at the thought of sharing his attention. “I mean, yes, my friend is Maribelle. She’s a huge fan. Both her and her fiancé, Beau.”

“Bring them both along. I’ll get you seats in our suite.”

London considered how enthusiastic her friend had been after meeting Harrison. It surprised her that someone who had been trained from birth to epitomize a gracious Southern lady had an interest in such a loud and tedious sport. All the drivers did was go around and around in circles at high speeds for three hours. How could that possibly keep anyone interested?

“I’ll see if she’s busy and let you know.” The words were out before London could second-guess herself.

She needed access to Tristan, and Harrison was the perfect way in. From the way her pulse triggered every time he smiled at her, acting interested wouldn’t be a problem. She just needed to be careful that she kept her body’s impulses in check and her mind focused on the revenge bargain.

Harrison looked a little surprised that she’d changed her mind, but then a grin slowly formed on his face. “Great.”

“Wonderful,” she murmured, reaching out to shake his hand.

She’d begun the gesture as a professional event planner, but as his long fingers enveloped hers, a jolt of electricity surged up her arm. The raw, compelling reaction left London wobbly. She couldn’t let herself be distracted right now. Not when she had a mission and Harrison played an integral part in accomplishing it.

Capitalizing on his interest in her was one thing. Reciprocating the attraction would only lead to trouble.

“See you at eight.”

Aware that they were still holding hands, London pulled her fingers free. “Eight,” she echoed, glad Harrison had the sense not to gloat as she opened the front door and gestured him onto the sidewalk. “In the meantime, I’ll keep you informed as we confirm availability on the potential venues.”

After they said goodbye, she wasted no time watching him walk away, but immediately turned to her receptionist. Seeing that Missy was making a poor effort at busywork, London gathered herself to scold her and then realized if she’d been worried about the scene playing out in front of an audience, she should’ve taken him outside.

“Let me know what you hear from the venues,” she said, heading for her office.

With a whoosh of breath, she plunked down on her office chair and ignored the slight shake in her hands as she jiggled the mouse to deactivate her screensaver. However, as she struggled to refocus on what she’d been working on before Harrison had shown up, peeling her thoughts away from the handsome race-car driver proved challenging.

Unsure what to make of his confessed interest in her and invitation to dinner tonight, she contemplated her legal pad and the mixture of notes and doodles. No fewer than ten hearts lined the margins and swooped across the page. What had she been thinking?

London opened a file on her computer for the event and typed in her notes before tearing the page into tiny pieces.

Going forward she needed to take a firmer grip on her subconscious or heaven only knew what might happen.

Once her initial work on the fortieth birthday party was done, London dialed Maribelle to give her a heads-up about all that had transpired and to extend Harrison’s invitation to watch him race on Sunday.

“Beau will be thrilled,” Maribelle said. “Do you think Harrison can get us into the pit on race day?”

“Maybe. I can find out what that entails.” She traced her fingertips over the twenty-five she’d once again doodled on her legal pad. At least there were no hearts this time. “We’re having dinner tonight.”

Maribelle’s squeal forced London to pull the phone away from her ear. “See, I knew he was interested in you. Where are you going? Is he taking you somewhere romantic? Are you going to sleep with him? I would. I bet he’s great in bed. He’s so sexy with that dark hair and those blue-green eyes. And that body. I read that he’s in crazy great shape. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on him.”

Maribelle’s rapid-fire remarks left no room for London to speak. She really shouldn’t sleep with Harrison Crosby, but any argument about what a bad idea it was would fall on deaf ears.

“Need I remind you that you’re engaged? You better tone down your fan-girling,” London warned. “Beau might not appreciate you heaping praise on another man.”

“Don’t you worry. My Beau knows while my eyes might wander my heart never will.”

It was such a sweet and solemn declaration that London felt a flare of envy. Had she ever embraced that level of dedication to Linc? Not that she’d needed to. Once she’d settled on him as her future mate, she’d never looked at anyone else. And until the very end, she’d thought Linc felt the same. Her trust in him had never wavered despite all the women she knew must be throwing themselves at him while he was out of town during baseball season. She’d never imagined her competition would be someone so unassuming and close to home.

“You’re lucky to have each other,” London said and meant it.

“You’ll find someone,” Maribelle returned, her tone low and fierce. “And he will love you and make you feel safe.”

Again that word safe. And again, London flinched. She was a strong, capable woman who didn’t need a man to make her feel safe. Yet even as her thoughts trailed over this mantra, a tiny part of her clenched in hungry longing. What would it be like to be taken care of? Not physically or financially, but emotionally supported. To be part of a devoted team like Maribelle and Beau.

It was something she hadn’t known growing up. Her parents had burdened her with huge—if differing—expectations. Her father was an autocratic businessman who’d impressed upon her that absolute success was the only option. London had spent her childhood living in terror that she would be criticized for not achieving high enough marks. She’d undertaken a rigorous class schedule, participated in student government, women’s soccer and debate club, and couldn’t remember a time during her high school and college years when she wasn’t worn out or anxiety ridden.

Nor was her mother any less demanding. If her father expected her to succeed professionally, her mother had her sights set on London’s social achievements. To that end, there had been hours of volunteer work and social events her mother dragged her to. Becoming engaged to Linc had been a triumph. But even then it grew obvious that no matter how much London did, it was never enough.