Playing Her Cards Right: Choose Me

Charlie stilled and that air of boredom he’d been wearing like a comfy jacket vanished. He seemed disappointed, but that undoubtedly had more to do with his plans being thwarted than not being able to work with her.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I liked it.”

It occurred to her that she should have ordered more for lunch. She needed to appear as unaffected by Charlie as possible. “The approach is fresh for NNY. A good take on something done to death, and you managed to make me sound as if I’m not totally precious. Although …” She clicked on the most personal section of the blog he’d written and scrolled down a bit.

Here’s what Bree said, but not in words:

1. Everyone is tall and beautiful and has better clothes than me. Anyone who looked in any way normal wasn’t anyone. Example: Me.

2. People can be really rude, but at the same time, very lovely. Being with Charlie got me the last part. The first part was on the house.

3. Everyone has an iPhone/BlackBerry. And cameras are intrusive even if the whole point is getting your picture taken. Also? I’m really not in Ohio anymore.

“I’m really not in Ohio anymore?” Bree sighed. “Still. You did a nice job.”

The way his lips parted, it was clear he hadn’t expected her response, especially the way she’d said nice. Now if she could just keep it up. She’d imagined being the kind of woman who could go toe-to-toe with the biggest names in Manhattan, and now was her chance.

She’d been in Wonderland last night, and she wouldn’t apologize for feeling like Alice. Charlie had captured that perfectly in his blog. But she was back on terra firma now. She knew the score, business was business, and if he was going to use her, then she wanted something in return.

Yes, he was Charlie Winslow, and her heart had been beating double time since his first text, but there was a larger picture here, and she’d be an idiot to let it slip through her fingers. Being linked to Charlie was cachet she couldn’t ignore. “The blog would be better if you used my pictures. Used me.”

“Would it?” A hint of a smile came and went. Good. They were both playing the same game. It was important for her to remember he had years of experience, whereas she had … She had chutzpah. It would have to be enough.

Charlie handed her a plate of fries and a cardboard cup of tea. He’d paid, which was appropriate. He’d called this meeting.

At the thought, she had a twinge of sadness, real regret, and dammit, she had to stop that. The sex had been sex. The two of them were about to talk turkey, and she couldn’t afford to be sentimental, not for a moment. It had been great sex. The end. Her imagination could be a wonderful place, but it could hurt her, too.

Luckily, they scored most of a bench. The first Belgian fry was so good it made her moan, which made her blush, but only until she saw the spot of mayo on Charlie’s chin. If she were the nice girl her parents had raised her to be, she’d tell him about it. But this was business, and him looking so very human helped.

“What’s your concern?” Charlie asked.

“I’m really not as innocent as you’ve painted me. I understand that’s the gimmick, which is fine, but I’d like to have some input. My bosses read NNY, our clients, too. It may only be one blog, but it’ll have an impact on my career.”

He took another bite of his burger, and instead of looking at his mouth, remembering what it had felt like against her own, she concentrated on the mayonnaise dotting his chin.

“I want more than one blog out of this,” he said, after he’d swallowed.

Her gaze jumped to his eyes and for a sec she thought that maybe this wasn’t all about business, but then she remembered.

8 (#ulink_ebc0e958-f15d-5a52-8c06-3a77bb74d56e)

“I’D LIKE TO MAKE THIS part one of a series,” Charlie said, as if he was asking her for a fry. “Some of which would feature Fashion Week, but not all. Tonight there’s a party at Chelsea Piers. I was hoping you would join me.”

Bree didn’t choke, but she did cough. Mostly to hide her astonishment, and get herself in check. “What do you mean by series?”

“Wednesday’s open, but Thursday night is another Fashion Week party. Friday, there’s a premiere. Have you heard about Courtesan?”

Had she heard about Courtesan? It was a major motion picture from a major studio starring major movie stars, and she’d wanted to see it since she’d caught the first ad. Inside, she jumped about five feet off the ground. For him, she nodded and took a sip of tea. “I have.”

“I’ve got something else Saturday night but I’m not sure what. Either a perfume party or a book thing. Anyway, I’d need you, tentatively, through Saturday night. Maybe more, possibly less. It all depends on the number of hits, the comment activity. Could that work for you?”

To even pretend she had to think about it was useless. He’d know she was bluffing. “Scheduling wouldn’t be the issue. I’d make it work, even if I have to get Rebecca to make my frozen lunches.

“That’s the thing Rebecca does at St. Marks, right?”

“How we met.”

“She’s gonna love this.” Now he didn’t even try to hide his smile. It was the other Charlie, the charming cousin of her friend, the man who’d kissed her silly.

Bree cleared her throat before meeting his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“She’s going to think the series was her idea. She’ll be insufferable.”

“Ah.” Bree popped a fry as she fought against another pang. This one was even more foolish. She’d thought for a second there that Rebecca would love the fact that she and Charlie would continue seeing each other. Ridiculous.

But come on, this was better than dating. Sex for someone like Charlie lasted one night. He couldn’t even fake interest the next morning. In the long run, what he was offering was more than her paltry dreams had imagined. He’d just shortened her five-year plan by half. “I still want input.”

“It’s my blog, Bree. People read it for my take.”

“I don’t want to come off looking like a fool.”

“Is that how you read any of those articles?”

“No.”

“We can draw something up, something we can both agree to. If the series works, it will be because people like my take on seeing my world through your eyes. It’s in my best interest to make you relatable and sympathetic.”

“Okay. But I think I would be even more relatable if I write some of the blogs myself.”

He winced. “I don’t know. My name brings the party to the yard. Sorry.”

“Granted. Doesn’t mean there can’t be a sidebar. You’ve done that before.”

Charlie used his napkin, wiping off the mayo by chance. After a longish pause, he nodded. “No guarantees. I’ll read what you write, see how it works. I’ll have my attorney draw up something to cover the rest of the week, but I’d like to post the blog I wrote today. What do you say?”

She knew she was taking a risk, not signing on the dotted line, but what the hell. Rebecca would have something to say if Charlie messed with her, but even more than that, Bree’s gut told her to go for it. She held out her hand.

The shiver that ran through her body when they shook was strictly in response to the opportunity. Nothing more.

CHARLIE WALKED BREE TO HER office building, a giant among giants, blocking out most of the sky. It was windy in the street, and he put his arm around Bree’s shoulders, pulling her close. He liked keeping her warm, liked the way her hair tickled his chin.

“Charlie?” She had to raise her voice as they walked, so he bent his head a little.

“Yes?”

“Assuming the paperwork is fine and we end up going to … things. What are we going as?”

“Uh, oh. Like last night. Together, but not a couple. If someone asks, say we’re friends. They’ll all assume it’s more, but that’s not a bad thing. People like trying to figure things out, make connections, even if they’re false. And gossip pays the bills.”