Meet Mr. Prince / Once a Cowboy...

“What? We’re not keeping you busy enough at the office?”

“Alex …”

“Haven’t you enjoyed being around for your sister’s wedding and all the holiday stuff?”

She rolled her eyes. “Alex, stop teasing me.”

His smile said he was pleased with himself. “You’ll be going somewhere very different from past assignments.”

“Really? That sounds intriguing. Where?”

Alex waited a heartbeat, then said, “New York.”

Georgie’s smile faded. “New York? You mean … New York City?”

“Yes, our New York office.”

“But … why?” Georgie told herself not to get upset.

“Because Zachary Prince, the director of the New York office, is in a bind right now. His assistant quit a month ago and we’ve had no luck replacing him. We’ve had a lot of candidates, but no one qualified or experienced enough to be a real asset. I don’t want to hire someone just to hire someone. What we do out of New York is too important. That’s why I thought of you.”

“But, Alex, that’s not what I do, I don’t work in an office, and I don’t want to waste—”

He held up his hand. “Wait. Hear me out before you say you don’t want the assignment.”

Georgie made a face.

“This is only temporary, Georgie. Just until we can find a permanent replacement. Both Zach and I intend to keep looking, but in the meantime—as soon as you can wind things up here—you’re perfect for the job. You don’t need any training, and you can be an immediate help to Zach, which is a huge plus. And just because you’re working out of the office doesn’t mean you won’t go into the field. In fact, being Zach’s assistant means you’ll get plenty of chances to look into possible beneficiaries of the Hunt Foundation—the only difference being that those beneficiaries will mostly be in the eastern part of the U.S. Wouldn’t you like to go to Appalachia?”

“Well, of course, I’d like to go to Appalachia, but—”

“But what?”

“I like doing evaluations. That’s what I’m good at.”

“I know that. It’s one of the big reasons you’re so perfect for this job. Zach tells me the pile of requests for assistance is stacking up faster than they can look at them.”

“You’re saying I’ll still get to do the evaluations and make recommendations?” Georgie knew she sounded skeptical. Shoot, she was skeptical. In her experience, assistants didn’t get the interesting jobs. They got the jobs the directors didn’t want to do themselves, probably involving tons of paperwork, which Georgie despised. Suddenly a new thought struck her. “Did my mother put you up to this?”

“Put me up to what?”

“Sending me to New York.”

“Georgie, come on … don’t be paranoid.”

“I’m not being paranoid. I know my mother. If she had gotten even an inkling about what happened in Burundi, I know she’d have been on the phone to you in an instant.”

“I haven’t talked to your mother. She knows nothing about this assignment.”

“You’re sure.” But even as she said it, she could see from Alex’s expression that he was telling her the truth.

She sank back in her chair, her shoulders slumping.

“Come on, Georgie. Cheer up. This assignment is going to be good for you. Good for all of us.” When she didn’t answer, Alex added softly, “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

It killed her to say it, but she finally said, “No.”

Alex started to say something else but quit because their waiter had brought their food. When he left them alone again, Georgie sighed and said, “You’re sure this assignment is only temporary?”

Alex raised his right hand. “I swear, this is absolutely temporary. And the more you can do to relieve Zach, the more time he’ll have to find a replacement for you.” Then came the kicker. “If you do this for me, Georgie, I’ll owe you.”

Georgie wished she could say no. She knew if she adamantly refused to go to New York, Alex wouldn’t force her. But how could she? Alex was her boss and her friend. He’d never before asked for a favor. And she owed him big time, even though he was too nice to remind her of that fact.

“Oh, all right, Alex. You win.” She picked up her chopsticks. “How soon do you want me to be there?”

Cornelia’s cell phone vibrated from the depths of her handbag as she walked toward the south entrance of Nordstrom. She managed to find the phone before the call went to voice mail and saw from the display that it was Harry calling. She felt like ignoring the call, but a mixture of curiosity and the certain knowledge that Harry Hunt, accustomed as he was to people leaping when he said, “Jump,” would just keep trying until she answered trumped her desire to continue making a statement by avoiding him.

Sighing, she pressed the talk icon. “Hello, Harry.”

“Corny, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Yes, well, I’m just on my way into Nordstrom.” She kept her voice deliberately cool.

“Then I won’t keep you long. I just wondered if my favorite gal in the entire world would do me the honor of accompanying me to a dinner next Saturday night.”

Cornelia could have said a lot of things in response to his “favorite gal” comment, but she decided it was wiser not to. Why open that can of worms? Especially when nothing ever changed. “What kind of dinner?” she hedged.

“Oh, I’m getting some award from the Software Society of America. The dinner’s being held at the Fairmont, and you know how I hate these black-tie things. But it’d be bearable if you’d come with me.” He chuckled. “Make that rubber chicken go down a lot easier.”

I should say no. I should say I’m tired of being an also-ran with you. I should say go find yourself another one of your models or actresses to take. I should say I already have a date.

But she didn’t think Harry knew about her fledgling relationship with Greg Berger, the golf pro at the club, and Cornelia wasn’t sure she wanted him to know. She could just imagine what he’d have to say about her dating a much younger man. Of course, every single one of Harry’s four wives had been considerably younger than him. But that was different, wasn’t it? Cornelia gritted her teeth. Just thinking about Harry’s former wives and the double standard about age stiffened her resolve. “I don’t think I can, Harry.”

“Don’t think you can?”

“I believe I have another engagement.” Despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to outright lie to him. “I’ll have to check my calendar after I get home.”

“If you have another engagement, break it. I really want you to be with me at that dinner, Corny.”

“I—” Where’s your backbone? Just say no.

“Please, Corny. I haven’t seen nearly enough of you lately.”

“And whose fault is that?” she retorted before she could stop herself.

“I realize it is my fault, but I’m trying to rectify that. C’mon, say you’ll go. I really want to see you.”

Cornelia could feel herself weakening, and it infuriated her. Why did she find it so hard to refuse him? He was entirely too sure of himself. Break it, indeed! And yet, despite all this, she sighed and said, “Oh, all right, Harry. I’ll go with you.”

“That’s my girl. We’ll pick you up at seven.”

Cornelia shook her head as she disconnected the call. She was spineless. Yet she couldn’t help remembering a night long ago when she had said no to Harry. And who knows how different all their lives might have been if she’d said yes instead.

We were too young, and I was afraid. And when I was finally ready to say yes, it was too late. He’d moved on with wife number one, and then George and I fell in love. After that, all of our lives continued in different directions from the way I’d first imagined they’d go.

She was so lost in the memory of that fateful night when she was only seventeen, a memory she rarely indulged, that she very nearly ran into a young mother exiting Nordstrom while juggling a toddler, a big black umbrella and several packages.

“Sorry,” Cornelia apologized, holding the door open for her.

“No problem,” the harried young woman said.

No problem, Cornelia thought, ducking inside to avoid having to open her own umbrella, for it had just begun to rain. The young woman was right. Some things weren’t worth getting rattled over.

I must stop thinking about the past. What happened, happened. And despite Harry’s cluelessness and Georgie’s stubbornness and my occasional aches and pains, I have no real problems. My life turned out the way it was supposed to turn out.

Her momentary twinge of nostalgia and regret evaporated as she walked briskly into the store.

“Daddeeeee!”

Zach grinned as Emma, his three-year-old, raced down the hall and launched herself at him as he entered their spacious eleventh-floor apartment near Lincoln Center. Was there any feeling as wonderful as this? he thought as he lifted her up and she twined her dimpled arms around his neck.

“Hello, sweetness,” he murmured.

“Mr. Prince. You’re home early.” This observation came from Fanny, his fifty-something housekeeper, who had followed Emma into the foyer.

Zach kissed his daughter, relishing the sweet, littlegirl smell and the softness of her skin. “I decided everything on my desk could wait till Monday.”

It had taken nearly two years for him to stop dreading that first few minutes after arriving home, minutes in which the awareness of Jenny’s absence would strike him yet again, minutes when he’d thought the hollow ache in the vicinity of his heart would never go away. But he was finally adjusting to the fact that she was gone, that cancer had taken his beloved wife at a too-young age and he had been left to raise their three children alone.

He knew he would always treasure the memory of Jenny and he would always miss her, but now he also knew he was going to be okay, because he was finally beginning to think about the future instead of constantly mourning the past.

“And how was your day?” Fanny asked. Her hazel eyes were warm as they studied him.

What would he do without Fanny? He couldn’t even imagine. She was more than a housekeeper, even though that’s how they both referred to her. In many ways, she reminded him of his mother in the manner that she looked after him and his children.

“It was good,” he said. “Got a lot done. But I sure am glad to be home. Where are the other two?” Glancing at the grandfather clock that graced the foyer, he saw it was a few minutes before five. Katie, his ten-year-old, and Jeremy, seven, normally were home from school by four.

“Katie’s at Madison Werner’s house. They’re working on a science project together. She’ll be home at six-thirty. And your sister came by to take Jeremy skating. She said she’d have him back by nine.”

“I wanted to go skating,” Emma said, her blue eyes clouding. “But Jeremy said I’m too little! I’m not too little, Daddy.” Her voice rose in volume with each word.

Sensing a full-blown tantrum brewing, Zach said, “Of course you’re not too little, sweetheart. We’ll go skating Sunday afternoon. How’s that?”

“To Rocky Center.”

“This time I think we’ll go to the park, honey. The rink at Rockefeller Center is too crowded.”

Emma’s frown deepened. “I don’t care! I wanna go to Rocky Center.”

Suppressing a grin, Zach lowered his daughter to the floor. “Tell you what, pumpkin, we’ll decide on Sunday.”

“I’m not a pumpkin!”

Zach could no longer prevent a smile. “You’re my pumpkin.”

Not to be sidetracked from her grievance, Emma put her hands on her hips and deepened her frown. “Jeremy can’t go skating with us. Just girls.”

“Today was just-boys day,” Fanny explained sotto voce.

Zach knew without further explanation that Sabrina had probably been trying to make Emma feel better after Jeremy’s taunt about her being too little, so she’d made the remark about boys only. Zach didn’t blame his twin for not wanting to take Emma along today. Sabrina’s Tommy was eight, and he and Jeremy were best buddies. Emma’s presence would have put a damper on their fun together. Besides, his youngest daughter had to learn she couldn’t do everything her older siblings did.

“You know,” Zach said carefully, “I think it would be more fun for all of us to go skating on Sunday. Then we can show Jeremy just how big you are. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Emma stamped her foot. “No! I don’t want Jeremy to go.” She pronounced his name Jare-mee, with two syllables.

Man, she wasn’t going to give an inch. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear,” he said dryly. Well, he’d just have to hope she had a short memory, because skating was one thing they could all do together as a family. And because Emma was so young, it was tough to find activities that worked for everyone.

“I hate Jeremy,” she muttered. “He’s mean.”

“Emma …”

His youngest glared at him.

“Jeremy is your brother. You don’t hate him. You’re mad at him right now, and that’s okay. You can be mad if you want to be. But I don’t want to hear you saying you hate him. I don’t want to hear you saying you hate anyone. We don’t hate people in this house.”

For a moment, Zach was afraid she would defy him and say it again. She certainly looked like she wanted to. And then what would he do? Of his three children, Emma was the most stubborn and the most difficult to sway. Father Bested by Three-Year-Old, he thought, seeing the headline in his mind.

Why didn’t anyone tell you how hard it was to be a parent? He wished he’d understood just how hard while Jenny was still alive, because he should have gotten down on his knees and thanked her every single day for the wonderful job she was doing.

“Mr. Prince?”

Zach had almost forgotten Fanny was still standing there.

“Mr. Hunt called a few minutes ago. I put the message on the desk in your study.”

Lured by Fanny’s offer to make her hot chocolate with marshmallows, Emma trotted off after the housekeeper, and Zach headed into his home office.

Five minutes later, he had Alex Hunt on the line.

“Just wanted you to know I had lunch with Georgie Fairchild today, and she’ll report to work for you on the seventh.”

Zach glanced at his calendar. “That’s sooner than you thought.”

“She wanted to get going even sooner,” Alex continued. “But we compromised. She’ll be staying at the corporate apartment in New York, at least initially. If it turns out she’s going to be in there more than a month or two, then we’ll see about making other arrangements.”

“Hell, Alex, I sure hope it doesn’t take more than a month to find a permanent assistant.” The last thing Zach wanted was for this Fairchild woman to be hanging over him for weeks on end.

“I hope not, either, but you never know. It’s better to be prepared.”

Zach stifled the urge to say some of the things he’d been thinking. Instead, he said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Okay. I’ll have Deborah make sure everything at the apartment is in order.”

Deborah Zelinsky was Zach’s office manager and, even though the corporate apartment didn’t technically fall under the jurisdiction of the foundation, she was always more than happy to make sure the unit was ready for a visiting dignitary or prospective contributor.

“Thanks, Zach. I think Georgie is going to be a great addition to your team. I know the two of you will get along like a house afire.”

After they’d hung up, Zach sat thinking for a long moment. He still wished he’d said something to Alex about his doubts. And yet, how could he, especially without saying what had prompted those doubts? It wasn’t like he could have come right out and said, Hey, Alex, are you unhappy with me? Is that why you’re sending a spy to New York?

Oh, hell, he had to stop thinking about this. For this weekend, at least, he needed to put Georgie Fairchild and anything else connected to the office out of his mind. Time enough to think about work issues again on Monday.

In the meantime, he’d rather think about Emma, who was a lot more fun, and a lot more important to him, than anything—or anyone—connected with his job could ever be.

“Fanny,” he called as he headed for the kitchen. “Did you make enough hot chocolate for me?”

Chapter Three

Georgie didn’t believe in spending a lot of time packing. Most of the time, she just threw clothes into her trusty old duffel bag on wheels and figured what she didn’t have she would simply go without. And in this case—preparing for an assignment in New York—she could certainly buy anything she needed.

Still … it was winter, and New York was a lot colder than Seattle. Looking at the Weather Channel’s website, she saw that the median temperature this month was hovering around forty degrees. Just her luck. If she had to go to New York, couldn’t Alex at least have sent her in the spring? Or in the fall, which Georgie had been told was probably the most attractive time of the year in Manhattan?

She eyed the clothing she’d piled on her bed. She’d thrown her down parka in the mix and the boots she’d bought last winter in preparation for her trip to Korea. But she didn’t own a nice winter coat, certainly nothing suitable for meeting with potential donors and grant recipients, plus it wouldn’t have fit into the duffel even if she did own one. So she’d definitely have to buy a coat when she got to New York.

“Oh, shoot. I don’t want to do this.”

Even as she muttered the words, she knew she was wasting time and energy on her negative feelings about this assignment. And that was unlike her. What was it about going to New York that was so bad? She’d never been there before, and she’d always wanted to visit. Yeah, but this isn’t a visit. Still, she’d agreed, and she couldn’t change that now. And Alex had promised her time there would only be temporary.

If all went well, they’d find a permanent assistant for Zachary Prince quickly, and Georgie wouldn’t have to stay long at all. And yet … she couldn’t help thinking there must be some reason other than what Alex had given her about why they hadn’t yet been able to find an assistant. Was Zachary Prince difficult to work with? Maybe he was a pain in the butt and Alex hadn’t wanted to say so.

Then she told herself she was doing exactly what Alex had told her not to do. She was being paranoid. Granted, this time her paranoia had nothing to do with her mother, but still …

Lecturing herself to stop borrowing trouble and to think positive, she continued packing. She was almost finished when her cell phone, playing Chris Brown’s “Forever,” sounded from where she’d placed it on her dresser. The song signaled Joanna calling.

“How’s my BFF today?” Georgie said by way of greeting.

“Exhausted.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Too busy, too little time.” Joanna was a struggling fashion designer in the Seattle area, and she was always racing to beat a deadline.

“What else is new?” Georgie abandoned the packing and walked over to the window overlooking the parklike grounds adjacent to her condominium. Below she saw a young couple walking with their arms around each other.

“Nothing, really. Just wanted to see how things were going with you. How was the party last night?” Joanna was referring to Frankie’s engagement party to Eli Wolf.

“It was really nice.”

“And what about Thursday’s farewell lunch with your mother?”

“I enjoyed it. At least this time Mom wasn’t upset. At least, not with me.”

“Who was she upset with?”

“Uncle Harry.”

“What’s the poor guy done now?”

“It’s not what he’s done, it’s what he hasn’t done.” Georgie was still amazed at what her mother had revealed right before Christmas. “Joanna, remember when I told you what my mother told me and my sisters? About Uncle Harry and how she’d once had a thing for him? She made it sound like that was in the distant past, but I think she might really be in love with him.”

“Did she say that?”

“She didn’t have to say it. She was talking about him and some dinner he’d taken her to, and all of a sudden it seemed so obvious I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized it before.”

“I thought he was more like her brother or something. Didn’t you tell me she and your dad and Harry Hunt were like The three Musketeers when they were young? And she picked your dad.”

Joanna didn’t have to say what Harry had done. They both knew the story. Harry had picked one gorgeous model or actress after another, gold diggers all—at least, in his estimation. Each short-lived marriage had produced one son, and Harry Hunt had gotten sole custody of each of them.

“That’s what we all thought,” Georgie said. “But maybe we don’t know the whole story.”

“You mean you think she’s always loved Harry? And not your dad?”

“No, I don’t believe that. I think she loved my dad. But maybe she loved Uncle Harry first. Or maybe … after Dad died …”

“Did you ask her about her feelings yesterday?”

“Good grief, no. You know how private my mother is. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d said anything directly. And, I don’t know, I felt funny about it. Like maybe it was none of my business.”

“Wow,” Joanna said, amusement in her voice. “I think that’s the first time since I met you that you thought something wasn’t your business.”

“Oh, stuff it,” Georgie said, laughing. But she knew Joanna wasn’t far wrong.

“You know,” Joanna said, “maybe this explains why Harry got so weird about your mother dating that golf pro from the club.”

“You’re probably right. Here I thought he was just worried because the guy’s so much younger than my mother. But maybe he was actually jealous!”

“It’s possible. I know Chick can’t stand it when I even look at anyone else.”

Georgie nodded, even though Joanna couldn’t see her. “It all makes sense now. There’s got to be some kind of history here, something my sisters and I never suspected.”

“Oh, Georgie. It’s terribly romantic, isn’t it? Maybe they’ve been pining for each other for years. I know! Why don’t you and your sisters turn the tables on them and try to get them together? I mean, they were trying their darnedest to fix you guys up. Why not fix them up, because, Lord knows, if you don’t, they might never get it right.”

Georgie laughed. “It would serve them right, wouldn’t it? But think about it. What could we actually do? It’s not like we can plop them down on a desert island or something.”

“No, but you can maybe nudge them along a bit.”

“I’m afraid my sisters will have to do the nudging, ‘cause I’ll be in New York.” Glancing at the digital alarm sitting on her bedside table, she added, “Speaking of, I’d better get a move on. My flight leaves at noon, and I still have to finish packing and get a shower.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go. Safe trip.”

“Thanks.” After promising to call or text Joanna as soon as she hit LaGuardia, they said goodbye.

Fifteen minutes later, duffel packed, laptop and cell phone charging, Georgie headed for the shower.

Katie, Zach’s ten-year-old, kept Zach up half the night with a sore throat and a fever. On any other day, even if he had work stacked to the ceiling, Zach would have taken the morning off—maybe even the entire day—and taken his daughter to the doctor himself. But today was the day Georgie Fairchild was to report to work, so he reluctantly agreed that Fanny could take Katie to see their pediatrician.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Prince. She’ll be fine. I’ll call you after we’ve seen Dr. Noble.”

But Zach knew he would worry. Worse, he’d feel guilty all day. He should be the one taking care of Katie, not Fanny. As he had so often since Jenny died, he thought about how little consideration he’d ever given to the plight of single parents. But that was before, and this was now. Now he was a single parent himself. And he was fortunate. He had money, and when he couldn’t be here, he could afford the best care possible for his children. And yet he still felt guilty when he couldn’t do the things Jenny had done.