I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out?”
“I...” Her first impulse was to refuse, but she’d been looking for an opening that would get her into Tristan’s orbit. Planning his birthday party would be an excellent step in that direction. “Don’t usually do personal events, but I would be happy to meet with you and talk about it.”
She pulled a business card out of her clutch and handed it to him.
He glanced at the card. “‘London McCaffrey. Owner of ExcelEvent.’ I’ll be in touch.” Then, with a charming smile, he said, “Nice meeting you both.”
London’s eyes remained glued to his retreating figure for several seconds. When she returned her focus to Maribelle, her friend was actively smirking.
“What?”
“See? I told you. What you need is a little fun.”
“It’s a job,” London said, emphasizing each word so Maribelle wouldn’t misinterpret the encounter. “He’s looking for someone to organize his brother’s birthday party. That’s why I gave him my card.”
“Sure.” Maribelle’s hazel eyes danced. “Whatever you say. But I think what you need is someone to take your mind off what happened between you and Linc, and in my not-so-humble opinion, that—” she pointed at the departing figure “—is the perfect man for the job.”
Everything London had read about him stated that he liked to play hard and that his longest relationship to date had lasted just over a year. She’d decided her next romance would be with a man with a serious career. Someone she’d have lots in common with.
“Why do you think that?” London asked, unable to understand her friend’s logic. “As far as I can tell, he’s just like Linc. An athlete with an endless supply of eager women at his beck and call.”
“Maybe he’s just looking for the right woman to settle down with,” Maribelle countered. She’d been singing a different tune about men and romance since she’d started dating Beau Shelton. “Can’t you at least give the guy a chance?”
London sighed. She and Maribelle had had this conversation any number of times over the last few months as her friend had tried to set her up with one or another of Beau’s friends. Maybe if she said yes Maribelle would back off.
“I’m really not ready to date anyone.”
“Don’t think of it as dating,” Maribelle said. “Just think of it as hanging out.”
Since London was already thinking in terms of how she could use Harrison to get to Tristan, it was an easy enough promise to make. “If it means you’ll stop bugging me,” she said, hiding her sudden satisfaction at killing two birds with one stone, “I’ll agree to give Harrison Crosby one chance.”
Harrison spent more than his usual twenty minutes in the bathroom of his penthouse condo overlooking the Cooper River as he prepared for his meeting with London McCaffrey.
A woman he’d dated for a short time a year ago had given him pointers on grooming particulars that women appreciated. At the time he’d viewed the whole thing with skepticism, but after giving the various lotions, facial scrubs, hair-care products and other miscellaneous items a try, he’d been surprised at the results and happily reaped the benefits of Serena’s appreciation.
Still, as much as he’d seen the value in what she’d introduced into his life, his focus during racing season left little room for such inconsequential activities. Today, however, he’d applied all that he’d learned, scrutinizing his hands to ensure they were grease-free and giving his nails more than a cursory clipping, even going so far as to run a file over the edges to smooth away any sharpness. Although he didn’t touch the high-tech race cars until he slid behind the wheel, Harrison often unwound from a race weekend by tinkering with the rare classics his uncle bought for his collection.
Today, however, as he surveyed his charcoal jeans, gray crewneck sweater and maroon suede loafers, Harrison decided that someone as stylish as London would appreciate a man who paid attention to his grooming. And in truth, his already elevated confidence was inflated even further when the receptionist at ExcelEvent goggled at him as he strolled into the King Street office.
“You’re Harrison Crosby,” the slender brunette exclaimed, her brown eyes wide with shock as he advanced on her desk. “And you’re here.” She gawked at him, her hands gripping the edge of the desk as if to hold herself in place.
Harrison gave her a slow grin. “Would you let London know I’ve arrived?”
“Oh, sure. Of course.” Never taking her eyes off him, she picked up her phone and dialed. “Harrison Crosby is here to see you. Okay, I’ll let him know.” She returned the handset to the cradle and said, “She’ll be out in a second. Would you like some coffee or water or...?” She trailed off and went back to staring at him.
“I’m fine.”
“If you want to have a seat.” The receptionist gestured to a black-and-white floral couch beneath the ExcelEvent logo painted in white on the gray wall. “She shouldn’t be too long.”
“Thank you.”
Ignoring the couch, Harrison stood in the center of the room, wondering how long she would leave him cooling his heels. While he waited, he took stock of his surroundings, getting a sense of London’s taste from the clean color palette of black, white and gray, the hint of drama provided by the silver accessories and the pop of color courtesy of the flower arrangement on the reception desk. On the wall across from him was a large-screen TV with a series of images and videos from various events that London had organized.
In his hand, his phone buzzed. Harrison sighed as he glanced at the message on the screen. Even though he took Mondays and Tuesdays off during the season, rarely an hour went by that his team wasn’t contacting him as they prepared the car for that week’s upcoming race. Each track possessed a different set of variables that the teams used to calibrate the car. There were different settings for shocks, weight, height, springs, tires, brakes and a dozen other miscellaneous factors.
For the first time in a long time, Harrison debated leaving the text unanswered. He didn’t want to split his focus today. His team knew what it was doing. His input could wait until his meeting with London concluded.
A change in the air, like a fragrant spring breeze, pushed against his skin an instant before London McCaffrey spoke his name.
“Mr. Crosby?”
As he looked up from his phone, Harrison noted the uptick in his heartbeat. Today she wore a sleeveless peach dress with a scalloped neckline and hem, and floral pumps. Her long blond hair fell over her shoulders in loose waves. Feminine perfection with an elusive air, she advanced toward him, her hand outstretched.
Her fingers were cool and soft as they wrapped around his hand. “Good to see you again.”
“I intend to call you London,” he said, leaning just ever so slightly forward to better imprint the faint scent of her floral perfume on his senses. “So you’d better call me Harrison.”
“Harrison.” Still holding his hand, she gazed up at him through her lashes, not in a manner he considered coy, but as if she was trying to take his measure. A second later she pulled free and gestured toward a hallway behind the reception desk. “Why don’t you come back to my office?” She turned away from him and led the way, pausing for a brief exchange with the receptionist.
“Missy, were you able to get hold of Grace?”
“I had to leave a message. Do you want me to put her through when she calls?” Missy glanced at Harrison as she asked the question.
“Yes. It’s urgent that I speak with her as soon as possible.” London glanced back at Harrison as she