She’s serving up red-hot revenge...

and bound to get burned!

London McCaffrey made a deal to get revenge at any cost. Her target? One of Charleston’s most influential men. But his brother, gorgeous race-car driver Harrison Crosby, stands in her way as a sexy distraction. He’s unleashed a torrent of desire that could catch London in her own web of deception. Will her best-laid plans backfire, breaking both their hearts?

CAT SCHIELD has been reading and writing romance since high school. Although she graduated from college with a BA in business, her idea of a perfect career was writing books for Mills & Boon. And now, after winning the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart® Award for Best Contemporary Series Romance, that dream has come true. Cat lives in Minnesota with her daughter, Emily, and their Burmese cat. When she’s not writing sexy, romantic stories for Mills & Boon Desire, she can be found sailing with friends on the Saint Croix River, or in more exotic locales, like the Caribbean and Europe. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at catschield.net and follow her on Twitter, @catschield.

Also by Cat Schield

At Odds with the Heiress

A Merger by Marriage

A Taste of Temptation

The Black Sheep’s Secret Child

Little Secret, Red Hot Scandal

The Heir Affair

Upstairs Downstairs Baby

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Substitute Seduction

Cat Schield

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07692-0

SUBSTITUTE SEDUCTION

© 2018 Catherine Schield

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Extract

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

“We need to get back at all of them. Linc, Tristan and Ryan. They need to be taught a lesson.”

When Everly Briggs had decided to attend the Beautiful Women Taking Charge event, she’d researched the attendees and settled on two women she believed she could convince to participate in a devious plot to take down three of Charleston, South Carolina’s most influential men.

Each of the three women had shared a tale of being wronged. Linc Thurston had broken his engagement to London McCaffrey. Zoe Crosby had just gone through a brutal divorce. But what Ryan Dailey had done to Everly’s sister, Kelly, was by far the worst.

“I don’t know about this,” London said, chewing on her coral-tinted lip. “If I go after Linc, it will blow up in my face.”

“She’s right.” Zoe nodded. “Anything we try would only end up making things worse for us.”

“Not if we go after each other’s men,” Everly said, pierced by a thrill as her companions started to look hopeful. “Think about it. We’re strangers at a cocktail party. Who would ever connect us? I go after Linc. London goes after Tristan and, Zoe, you go after Ryan.”

“When you say ‘go after,’” Zoe said hesitantly, “what do you have in mind?”

“Everyone has skeletons in their closet. Especially powerful men. We just need to find out where the worst ones are hiding and let them out.”

“I’m in,” London said. “Linc deserves to feel a little pain and humiliation for ending our engagement the way he did.”

Zoe nodded. “Count me in, too.”

“Marvelous,” Everly said, letting only a small amount of her glee show as she lifted her glass. “Here’s to making them pay.”

“And pay,” London echoed.

“And pay,” Zoe finished.

One

The party celebrating the ten-year anniversary of the Dixie Bass-Crosby Foundation was in full swing as Harrison Crosby strolled beneath the Baccarat crystal-and-brass chandelier hanging from the restored antebellum mansion’s fifteen-foot foyer ceiling. Snagging a glass of champagne from a circling waitress, Harrison passed from the broad foyer with its white marble floor and grand columns toward the ballroom, where a string quartet played in the corner.

Thirty years ago Harrison’s uncle Jack Crosby had purchased the historic Groves Plantation, located thirty-five miles outside the city of Charleston, intending to headquarter Crosby Motorsports on the hundred-acre property. At the time, the 1850s mansion had been in terrible shape and they’d been on the verge of knocking it down when both Virginia Lamb-Crosby and Dixie Bass-Crosby—Harrison’s mother and aunt respectively—had raised a ruckus. Instead the Crosby family had dumped a ton of money into the historic renovation to bring it up to code and make it livable. The result was a work of art.

Although Harrison had attended dozens of charity events supporting his family’s foundations over the years, the social whirl bored him. He’d much rather just donate the money and skip all the pomp and circumstance. Despite the Crosby wealth and the old family connections his aunt and mother could claim, Harrison had nothing in common with the Charleston elite and preferred his horsepower beneath the hood of his Ford rather than on the polo field.

Which was why he intended to greet his family, make as little small talk as he could and get the hell out. With only three races left in the season, Harrison needed to stay focused on preparations. And he needed as much mental and physical stamina as possible.

Spying his mother, Harrison made his way toward her. She was in conversation with a younger woman he didn’t recognize. As he drew near, Harrison recognized his mistake. His mother’s beautiful blonde companion wore no ring on her left hand. Whenever his mother encountered someone suitable, she always schemed to fix him up. She didn’t understand that his racing career took up all his time and energy. Or she did get it and hoped that a wife and family might persuade him to give it all up and settle down.

Harrison was on the verge of angling away when Virginia “Ginny” Lamb-Crosby noticed his approach and smiled triumphantly.

“Here’s my son,” she proclaimed, reaching with her left hand to draw Harrison in. “Sawyer, this is Harrison. Harrison, I’d like you to meet Sawyer Thurston.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harrison said, frowning as he tried to place her name. “Thurston...”

“Linc Thurston is my brother,” Sawyer clarified, obviously accustomed to explaining about her connection to the professional baseball player.

Harrison nodded. “Sure.”

Before he could say anything more, his mother reinserted herself into the conversation. “Sawyer is a member of Charleston’s Preservation Society and we were just talking about the historic home holiday tour. She wants to know if I’d be willing to open the Jonathan Booth House this year. What do you think?”

This was the exact sort of nonsense that he hated getting involved in. No matter what his or anyone else’s opinion, Ginny Lamb-Crosby would do exactly as she liked.

He leaned down to kiss her cheek and murmured, “I think you should ask Father since it’s his house, too.”

After a few more polite exchanges Harrison pretended to see someone he needed to talk to and excused himself. As he strolled around the ballroom, smiling and greeting those he knew, his gaze snagged on a beautiful woman in a gown of liquid sky. Her long honeyed hair hung in rolling waves over her shoulders with one side pulled back to show off her sparkly dangle earring. In a roomful of beautiful women, she stood out to him because rather than smiling and enjoying herself, the blonde with big eyes and pale pink lips wore a frown. She seemed to barely be listening to her chatty companion, a shorter, plump brunette of classic beauty and pouty lips.

She seemed preoccupied by... Harrison followed her gaze and realized she was staring at his brother, Tristan. This should have warned Harrison off. The last thing he wanted to do was to get tangled up with one of his brother’s castoffs. But the woman inspired more than just his curiosity. He had an immediate and intense urge to get her alone to see if her lips were as sweet as they looked, and that hadn’t happened in far too long.

Turning his back on the beauty, he headed to where his aunt was holding court on one side of the room near a large television playing a promotional video about the Dixie Bass-Crosby Foundation. In addition to helping families with sick children, the foundation supported K–12 education programs focused on literacy. Over the last ten years, his aunt had given away nearly ten million dollars and her family was very proud of her.

Yet even as Harrison exchanged a few words with his aunt, uncle and their group, his attention returned to the lovely blonde in the blue dress. The more he observed her, the more she appeared different from the ladies who normally appealed to him. Just as beautiful, but not a bubbly party girl. More reserved. Someone his mother would approve of.

The more he watched her, the more he labeled her as uptight. Not in a sexual way, like she wouldn’t know an orgasm if it reached out and slapped her, but in a manner that said her whole life was a straitjacket. If not for her preoccupation with Tristan, he might’ve turned away.

He simply had to find out who she was, so he went in search of his uncle. Bennett Lamb knew where all the bodies were buried and traded in gossip like other men bought and sold stock, real estate or collectibles.

Harrison found the Charleston icon holding court near the bar. In black pants and a cream honeycomb dinner jacket with a gold bow tie and pocket square, Bennett outshone many of the female guests in the fashion department.

“Do you have a second?” Harrison asked, glancing around to make sure his quarry hadn’t escaped.

One of Bennett’s well-groomed eyebrows went up. “Certainly.”

The two men moved off a couple of feet and Harrison indicated the woman who’d interested him. “Do you know who that is?”

Amusement dancing in his eyes, his uncle gazed in the direction Harrison indicated. “Maribelle Gates? She recently became engaged to Beau Shelton. Good family. Managed to hold on to their wealth despite some shockingly bad advice from Roland Barnes.”

Harrison silently cursed at the word engaged. Why was she so interested in Tristan if she was unavailable? Maybe she was cheating on her fiancé. Wary of letting his uncle think he’d shown an interest in someone who was engaged, he asked, “And the brunette?”

“Maribelle Gates is the brunette.” Bennett saw where his nephew was going and shook his head. “Oh, you were interested in the blonde. That’s London McCaffrey.”

“London.” He experimented with the taste of her name and liked it. “Why does her name ring a bell?”

“She was engaged to Linc Thurston for two years.”

“I just met his sister.” Harrison returned to studying London.

Meanwhile his uncle kept talking. “He recently broke off the engagement. No one knows why, but it’s rumored he’s been sleeping with...” Bennett’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “His housekeeper.”

An image of the heavyset fifty-year-old woman who maintained his parents’ house popped into Harrison’s mind and he grimaced. He pondered the willowy blonde and wondered what madness had gripped Linc to let her go.

“He doesn’t seem the type to go after his housekeeper.”

“You never know about some people.”

“So why is everyone convinced that he’s sleeping with her?”

“Convinced is a strong word,” his uncle said. “Let’s just say that there’s speculation along those lines. Linc hasn’t been out with anyone since he and London broke up. There’s been not a whisper of another romance on anyone’s radar. And, from what I hear, she’s a young widow with a toddler.”

Harrison shoved aside the gossip and refocused on the object of his interest. The more Bennett speculated about the reason Linc Thurston had for ending the engagement, the less he liked London’s interest in his brother. She deserved better. Tristan had always treated women poorly, as his recent behavior during his divorce from his wife of eight years demonstrated. Not only had Tristan cheated on her the entire time they were married, he’d hired a merciless divorce attorney, and Zoe had ended up with almost nothing.

“Now, if you’re looking for someone to date, I’d like to suggest...”

Harrison tuned out the rest of his uncle’s remarks as he continued to puzzle over London McCaffrey. “Is she seeing anyone at the moment?” Harrison asked, breaking into whatever it was his uncle was going on about.

“Ivy? I don’t believe so.”

“No,” Harrison said, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention to whatever pearls of wisdom his uncle had been shelling out. “London McCaffrey.”

“Stay away from that one,” Bennett warned. “That mother of hers is the worst. She’s a former New York socialite who thinks a lot of money—and I do mean a lot—can buy her way into Charleston inner circles. Honestly, the woman is a menace.”

“I’m not interested in dating the mother.”

“London is just as much a social climber,” Bennett said as if Harrison was an utter idiot not to make the connection. “Why else do you think she pursued Linc?”

“Obviously you don’t think she was in love with him,” Harrison retorted dryly.

He wasn’t a stranger to the elitist outlook held by the old guard of Charleston society. His own mother had disappointed her family by marrying a man from North Carolina with nothing but big dreams and ambition. Harrison hadn’t understood the complexities of his mother’s relationship with her family and, frankly, he’d never really cared. Ever since he could remember, all Harrison had ever wanted to do was to tinker with cars and drive fast.

His father and uncle had started out as mechanics before investing in their first auto parts store. Within five years the two men had parlayed their experience and drive into a nationwide chain. While Harrison’s dad, Robert “Bertie” Crosby, was happy to man the helm and expand the business, his brother, Jack, pursued his dream of running race cars.

By the time Harrison was old enough to drive, his uncle had built Crosby Motorsports into a winning team. And like the brothers before them, Tristan had gone into the family business, preferring to keep his hands clean, while Harrison loved every bit of oil and dirt that marked his skin.

“She pursued him,” Bennett pronounced, “because her children would be Thurstons.”

Harrison considered this. It was possible that she’d judged the guy by his social standing. On the other hand, maybe she’d been in love with Linc. Either way, Harrison wasn’t going to know for sure until he had a chance to get to know her.

“Why are you so interested in her?” Bennett asked, interrupting Harrison’s train of thought.

“I don’t know.”

He couldn’t explain to his uncle that London’s preoccupation with Tristan intrigued and worried him. For the last couple of years Harrison had increasing concerns about his brother’s systematically deteriorating marriage to Zoe. Still, he’d ignored the rumors of Tristan’s affairs even as Harrison recognized his brother had a dark side and a ruthless streak.

The fact that Zoe had vanished off his radar since she’d first separated from Tristan nagged at Harrison. In the beginning he hadn’t wanted to get involved in what had looked to become a nasty divorce. Lately he was wishing he’d been a better brother-in-law.

“Do you know what London does?” Harrison asked, returning his thoughts to the beautiful blonde.

Bennett sighed. “She owns an event planning service.”

“Did she plan this event?” An idea began to form in Harrison’s mind.

“No. Most of the work was done by Zoe before...” Not even Bennett was comfortable talking about his former niece-in-law.

“I think I’m going to introduce myself to London McCaffrey,” Harrison said.

“Just don’t be too surprised when she’s not interested in you.”

“I have a halfway-decent pedigree,” Harrison said with a wink.

“Halfway decent isn’t going to be enough for her.”

“You’re so cynical.” Harrison softened his statement with a half smile. “And I’m more than enough for her to handle.”

His uncle began to laugh. “No doubt you’re right. Just don’t be surprised when she turns you down flat.”

* * *

London McCaffrey stood beside her best friend, Maribelle Gates, her attention fixed on the tall, imposing man she’d promised to take down in the next few months. Zoe Crosby’s ex-husband was handsome enough, but his chilly gaze and the sardonic twist to his lips made London shiver. From the research London had done on him these last couple of weeks, she knew he’d ruthlessly gone after his wife, leaving her with nothing to show for her eight-year marriage.

In addition to cheating on Zoe through most of their marriage, Tristan Crosby had manufactured evidence that she was the one who’d been unfaithful and violated their prenuptial agreement. Zoe had been forced to spend tens of thousands of dollars disproving this, which had eaten into her divorce settlement. A settlement based on financial information about her husband’s wealth that indicated he was heavily mortgaged and deeply in debt.

Zoe’s lawyer suspected that Tristan had created offshore shell companies that allowed him to hide money and avoid paying taxes. It wasn’t unusual or illegal, but it was a hard paper trail to find.

“Heavens, that man cleans up well,” Maribelle remarked, her voice breathy and impressed. “And he’s been staring this way practically since he arrived.” She nudged London. “Wouldn’t it be great if he’s interested in you?”

With an exasperated sigh, London turned to her friend and was about to reiterate that the last thing on her mind was romance when she recognized the man in question. Harrison Crosby, Tristan’s younger brother.

A racing-circuit fan favorite thanks to his long, lean body and handsome face, Harrison was, to her mind, little more than a glorified frat boy. Zoe had explained that her ex-brother-in-law liked fast cars, pretty women and the sorts of activities that red-blooded American males went for in the South.

“He’s not my type,” London told her best friend, returning her focus to her target.

“Sweetie, I love you,” Maribelle began, settling further into her native South Carolina drawl, “but you have to stop being so picky.”

Resentment rose in London but she studiously avoided showing it. Since the first time her mother had slapped her face for making a fuss during her sixth birthday party, London had decided if she was going to survive in the McCaffrey household, she’d better learn to conceal her emotions. It wasn’t always easy, but now, at twenty-eight, she was nearly impossible to read.

“I’m not being picky. I’m simply being realistic.” And since he wasn’t the Crosby brother she was targeting, he wasn’t worth her time.

“That’s your problem,” Maribelle complained. “You’re always realistic. Why don’t you let loose and have some fun?”

Out of kindness or sympathy for her longtime friend, Maribelle didn’t mention London’s latest failure to climb the Charleston social ladder. She’d heard more than enough on that score from her mother. When London had begun to date someone from one of Charleston’s oldest families, her mother had perceived this as the social win she’d been looking for since the New York socialite had married restaurant CEO Boyd McCaffrey and moved to Connecticut, leaving her beloved New York City behind. And then, when London’s father had been accepted for a better position and moved his family to Charleston, Edie Fremont-McCaffrey’s situation grew so much worse.

When she’d first arrived, Edie had assumed that her New York connections, wealth and style would guarantee Charleston’s finest would throw open their doors for her. Instead she’d discovered that family and ancestral connections mattered more here than something as vulgar as money.

“It’s not that I don’t want to have fun,” London began. “I just don’t know that I want to have Harrison Crosby’s sort of fun.”

Well, didn’t that make her sound like the sort of dull prig who’d let the handsome and wealthy Linc Thurston slip through her fingers? London’s heart contracted. Although she no longer believed herself in love with Linc, at one point she’d been ready to marry him. But would she have? London wasn’t entirely clear where their relationship would be if he hadn’t broken things off.

“How do you know what sort of fun Harrison Crosby likes?” Maribelle asked, bringing London back to the present.

She bit her lip, unable to explain why she’d been researching the Crosby family, looking for an in. There were only three people who knew of their rash plan to take revenge on the men who’d wronged them. What London, Everly and Zoe were doing might not necessarily be illegal, but if they were discovered, retribution could be fierce and damaging.

“He’s a race-car driver.” As if that explained everything.

“And he’s gorgeous.”

“Is he?”

London considered all the photos she’d seen of him. Curly black hair, unshaved cheeks, wearing jeans and a T-shirt or his blue racing suit with sponsor patches plastered head to toe, he had an engaging smile and an easy confidence that proclaimed he had the world on a string.

“I guess if you like them scruffy and rough,” London muttered. Which she didn’t.

“He looks pretty suave and elegant to me.”

Maribelle’s wry tone spiked London’s curiosity and she carefully let her gaze drift in his direction. Not wanting the man to think she was at all interested in him, she didn’t look directly at him as she took in his appearance.

The Harrison Crosby she’d been picturing looked nothing like the refined gentleman in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit that drew attention to his strong shoulders and narrow hips. Her hormones reacted with shocking intensity to his stylish appearance. He was clean-shaved tonight, appearing elegant enough to have stepped off a New York runway. Where she’d been able to dismiss the “rough around the edges good ol’ boy” in racing attire, London saw she’d miscalculated the appeal of a confident male at the top of his game.

“Apparently he cleans up well,” London remarked grudgingly, her gaze moving on before she could get caught staring.

“He’s coming this way,” Maribelle squeaked.

London’s pulse revved like an engine as she took in his elegant appearance. “Get a hold of yourself,” she murmured in exasperation, unsure if she was speaking to herself or Maribelle.

“Good evening, ladies.” His voice had a deep, rich tone like the rumble of a cat’s purr. “I’m Harrison Crosby. Dixie Bass-Crosby is my aunt.”

“Number twenty-five,” Maribelle responded in a surprisingly girlish tone that caused London to gape. “You’re having a great second half this year. I’m Maribelle Gates.”

A sexy half grin kicked up one corner of his mouth. “You follow racing?” he asked, echoing the question in London’s head.

While his sea-glass eyes remained focused on Maribelle, London stared at him in consternation. Her body was reacting to his proximity in confusing ways.

“I do,” Maribelle confirmed. “So does my fiancé. We’re huge fans.”

As her best friend displayed a surprising amount of knowledge about race-car driving, London began to feel like a third wheel. While the two girls had been best friends since their first day of the exclusive private girls’ school they’d attended, certain differences had always existed between them.

Both were from wealthy families, but Maribelle’s had the sort of social standing that had allowed her access to the inner circles that had eluded London and her family. And while each woman was beautiful, Maribelle had always fought with her weight and this had led to her feeling less secure about her appearance. But the biggest difference was that for all her lack of social standing, London had always been the more popular of the two.

Until now.

“Oh,” Maribelle exclaimed, glancing toward her friend as if suddenly realizing they’d excluded London. “How rude of me to monopolize you. This is London McCaffrey.”

“Nice to meet you,” London said. Yet as miffed as she was at his earlier lack of interest, she wasn’t sure she meant it.

“Nice to meet you, as well.” Harrison’s gaze flicked from one woman to the other. “Now, it seems as if you know all about me. What is it you ladies do?”

“I’m planning a wedding,” Maribelle said with a silly little giggle that left London struggling not to roll her eyes.

Harrison’s sculpted lips shifted into an indulgent smile. “I imagine that’s a full-time job.”

London bit the inside of her lip to keep from snorting in derision. “I own an event planning company,” she said a trifle too aggressively. Hearing her tone brought a rush of heat to London’s cheeks. Was she seriously trying to compete with her engaged friend for a man she wasn’t even interested in?

“Are you planning her wedding?”

London shot her friend a glance as she shook her head. “No.”

“Not your thing?” he guessed, demonstrating an ability to read the subtle currents beneath her answer.

“She mostly organizes corporate and charity events,” Maribelle responded with a sweet smile that stabbed at London’s heart.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Harrison said, the impact of his full attention making London’s palms tingle. “My brother’s turning forty next month and I was going to plan a party for him. Only I don’t know anything about that sort of thing. 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.”

Two

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 entered her office. Like the reception area, this tranquil space was decorated in monochrome furniture and accessories. “I hope you don’t mind the interruption, but I’m organizing a fiftieth wedding anniversary for a client’s parents in a week and some things have come up I need her to weigh in on. She’s currently out of the country and not due back until just before the party.”

“I understand.” His phone vibrated with another incoming text as if to punctuate his point. “I’m sure you have all sorts of balls in the air.”

“Yes.” She gestured him toward a round table to their left and closed the door. “I always have several projects going at once.”

“Are you a one-woman show?” His gaze tracked her as she strode to her glass-topped desk and picked up a utilitarian pad and basic pen. No fancy notebooks and expensive writing instruments for London McCaffrey.

“No, I have several assistants,” she explained as she sat across from him. “Most of them help me out on a part-time basis, but I have two full-time employees plus Missy, my receptionist.”

“I didn’t realize your company was so large.”

She acknowledged the implied compliment with a slight smile. “I’ve been fortunate to have expanded rapidly since I opened my doors.”

“How long have you been in business?” Harrison leaned back in his chair and let his gaze flow over her slender shoulders and down her bare arms.

She sat forward, arms resting on the tabletop, the pen held lightly in her fingers. “Nearly six years. I started right out of college.”

“Why an event planning company?”

Her eyes narrowed as if she’d suddenly noticed that he was interviewing her, but her voice remained smooth and unruffled as she answered. “My mother used to be a socialite in New York and has always been big on the charity circuit. I started attending events when I was in my teens and mostly found them tedious because I didn’t know anyone. To keep myself occupied, I would spend my time analyzing the food, decor and anything else that went into the party. When I got home, I would write it all down and make notes of what I would do differently.”

Harrison found himself nodding in understanding as she described her process. “That sounds a lot like how I got into car racing. My uncle used to let me help him work on the cars and, when I got old enough to drive, gave me the opportunity to get behind the wheel. I could tear apart an entire engine and put it back together by the time I was fourteen.”

“I guess we both knew what we wanted to do from an early age.”

“Something we have in common.” The first of many somethings, he hoped.

As if realizing that they’d veered too far into the personal, she cleared her throat. “So you said you were interested in having someone organize a party for your brother’s birthday?”

“Yes.” Harrison admired her segue back to the reason for his visit. “He turns forty next month and I thought someone should plan something.”

After meeting London the other night, Harrison had called his mother and confirmed that no one was in the process of planning anything for Tristan’s fortieth birthday. In the past, events like this had been handled by Tristan’s wife, Zoe, but she was out of the picture now.

She tapped her pen on the notepad. “Tell me something about your brother.”

Harrison pondered her question for a moment. What did he know about Tristan? They were separated by more than just an eight-year age difference. They had different ideologies when it came to money, women and careers. Nor had they been close as kids. Their age differences meant the brothers had always attended different schools and Tristan’s free time had been taken up by sports and friends.

“He runs the family business since our dad semi-retired five years go,” Harrison began. “Crosby Automotive is a billion-dollar national chain of auto parts stores and collision centers in twenty states. We also have one of the largest private car dealership groups on the East Coast.”

“And you race cars.”

Her matter-of-fact tone carried no judgment, but Harrison imagined someone as no-nonsense as London McCaffrey wouldn’t view what he did in a good light. No doubt a guy like Tristan, who put on an expensive suit and spent his days behind a desk, was more her cup of tea. On the other hand, she had been engaged to a baseball player, so maybe Harrison was the one guilty of being judgmental.

“I’m one of four drivers that races for Crosby Motorsports.”

“Car twenty-five,” she said, doodling a two and a five on her legal pad before encircling the numbers with a series of small stars.

He watched her in fascination. “Yep.”

“I’ve never seen a race.” She glanced up, caught him watching her and very quickly set the pen down atop the drawing as if embarrassed by her sketch.

“Well, you’re in luck,” he said. “I’m racing on Sunday in Richmond.”

“Oh, I don’t think...” Her eyes widened.

“It’s my last race of the season.” He made his tone as persuasive as possible.

London shook her head. “It’s really not my thing.”

“Then what is?”

“My thing?” She frowned. “I guess I don’t really have one. I work a lot, you see.”

“And that leaves no room for fun?”

“From what my friend told me about a racer’s schedule, I’d like to know when you slow down for fun.”

“You have me there. I’m on the go most of the year.”

She nodded as if that put an end to the topic. “So, how many people are you looking to invite to your brother’s birthday party?”

“Around a hundred.” He’d secured a list from his mother after realizing he’d better not show up to a party planning meeting empty-handed and clueless.

“And do you have a budget?” London had relaxed now that they’d returned to familiar territory and flipped to a clean page so she could jot notes.

“Keep it under ten.”

“Thousand?” She sounded a tad surprised, leaving Harrison questioning whether he’d gone too high or too low. “That amount opens up several possible venues. Of course, the timing is a little tight with it being the start of the holiday season. Did you have a particular date in mind?”

“His birthday is December fifth.”

“I’ll have Missy start calling around for availability.” She excused herself and went to speak to her receptionist.

Harrison barely had a chance to look at any of the several texts that had come in while they’d been talking before she returned.

“Are you thinking a formal sit-down dinner with cocktails before and dancing afterward or something more casual?”

“My mother insists on a formal event. But I don’t think dancing. Maybe a jazz band, giving people a chance to mingle and chat.” Harrison was even more relieved that he’d checked with his mother because he was able to parrot everything she’d suggested.

“You were smart to get her input,” London said, picking up on his train of thought. “I guess my last question for now is whether you had any sort of theme in mind.”

Theme? Harrison was completely stumped. “I guess I was just thinking it was his fortieth birthday...”

“A color scheme?”

More and more Harrison wished he’d found a different way to connect with London McCaffrey. “What would you suggest?”

Her lips pursed as she pondered the question. “I’ll pull together three ideas and run them past you. What are you thinking about for the meal?”

“Wouldn’t it depend on the place we choose?”

“Yes, but it might help narrow things down if I thought you wanted seafood versus steak and chicken.”

“Ah, can I think about it?”

With a slight shake of her head, she pressed on. “Give me your instant thoughts.”

“Seafood.”

She jotted that down. “There are several venues that do an exceptional job.”

Although he’d never planned an event like this before, Harrison was finding that the process flowed easily with London in charge. She was proving to be both efficient and knowledgeable.

“You’re really great at this,” he said.

Her lips quirked. “It is what I do for a living.”

“I didn’t mean to sound surprised. It’s just that I’ve never thrown anyone a birthday party before and you’re making everything so easy.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to be in charge of this particular event?”

Harrison doubted London was the sort who liked to play games, so he decided to be straight with her. “I volunteered because I was interested in getting to know you better and a friend warned me that you wouldn’t be inclined to give me a shot.”

“Get to know me better?” She looked more curious than annoyed or pleased. “So you decided to hire me to plan your brother’s birthday party? You should know that I don’t date my clients.”

Despite her claim, he sensed she wasn’t shutting him down entirely. “You said you usually work with corporate clients. Maybe this would be an excellent opportunity to gain some exposure with Crosby Automotive. And I get a chance to work with a woman who intrigues me. A win-win solution all around.”

Interest colored her voice as she echoed, “A win-win solution...”

* * *

London’s pen flowed across the legal pad as she randomly sketched a centerpiece and pondered Harrison’s words.

When he’d called to set up this meeting, she’d been elated. Organizing his brother’s birthday party would solve the problem of how she could get close enough to Tristan to figure out how to bring him down. The more she learned about Zoe’s ex-husband, the more daunting her task. Frustration welled up in London as she considered the impulsive bargain she’d made several months earlier. What had she been thinking to agree to something that could lead to trouble for her in the future if she wasn’t careful? But how did she back out now that Everly and Zoe had their plans in motion?

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Harrison asked.

The abruptness of his invitation combined with the uptick in her body’s awareness of him caught her off guard, and London was shocked and dismayed by the delight blooming in her.

“I...”

She’d been so focused on her goal of helping Zoe that she hadn’t considered the possibility of an interpersonal relationship between her and Harrison. Now, with his startling confession, the situation had grown complicated.

“Ever since meeting you at the party the other night, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he declared, his sea-toned eyes darkening as his voice took on a smoky quality. “You don’t date your clients, but there’s nothing that says you can’t. Let me take you to dinner.”

You made this devil’s bargain. Now see it through.

“Tomorrow would be better,” she responded a touch breathlessly.

“I’m heading to Richmond with the crew tomorrow. Tonight is all I have.”

She was on the verge of refusing when his smile faded. An intense light entered his eyes and London found it difficult to breathe. The man’s charisma was off the charts at the moment and London found herself basking in the glow of his admiration. At the same time she couldn’t help but wonder if he was sincere or merely plying her with flattery to get her into bed. Worse, she wasn’t sure she cared.

Maribelle’s words came back to haunt her. London could use a little fun in her life and rebound sex with Harrison Crosby might be what enabled her to move on from Linc. If only she wasn’t planning to use Harrison as part of their revenge plot.

“I don’t want to have to wait another week to spend an evening with you,” he continued as she grappled with her conscience.

“I’m flattered,” she said, stalling for time.

His lips kicked into a dry grin. “No, you’re not.”

Harrison wasn’t the sort of Southern gentleman she was used to. One she could wrap around her finger. He had a straightforward sex appeal that excited her and made her feel all needy and prone to acts of impulsiveness. The urge to grab his sweater and haul him over for a kiss shocked her.

“Really—” Her instincts screamed at her to retreat. Her susceptibility to this man could prove dangerous.

“You think I’m hitting on you because I want to sleep with every woman I meet.”

“I wouldn’t dream of thinking such a thing,” she murmured in her most guileless drawl as she glanced down at her legal pad and noticed she’d been drawing hearts. She quickly flipped to a clean page and set down her pen.

“Don’t go all Scarlett O’Hara on me,” Harrison replied. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I don’t see us ending up in bed, but I fully intend on making it about the journey and not the destination.”

Outrage poured through London, but there was a certain amount of amusement and curiosity mixed in, as well. Damn the man. His plain speaking was having the wrong sort of effect on her.

“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.

“I just texted Beau,” Maribelle said. “He suggests we fly up on Saturday and back on Sunday. So we can see the practice rounds. Will that work for you? Usually you have parties on Saturday night, don’t you?”

As easy as it would be to use work as an excuse, she heard the excitement in her friend’s voice and sighed in surrender. “All we have is a small anniversary party and Annette is handling that.” To London’s surprise, she realized she was looking forward to getting out of town. She’d been working like a madwoman since Linc had ended their engagement. Keeping busy was the best way to avoid dwelling on her failed relationship. “And since Beau is flying us up, I’ll take care of the hotel rooms.”

“We should go shopping for something to wear. In fact, we should go shopping right now.”

London imagined her friend grabbing her purse and heading for her car. “What’s the hurry?”

“I need to make sure you wear something on your date tonight that doesn’t scream I’m not interested in getting laid.”

“I’m not,” London protested.

“Have you been with anyone since Linc?”

London winced. “You know I haven’t.”

“You need a rebound relationship. I think Harrison Crosby would be perfect.”

That Maribelle had echoed what London herself had been thinking less than an hour earlier didn’t surprise her. The two women had been friends so long they sometimes finished each other’s sentences.

“Why do you say that?” London asked.

“Because he’s the furthest thing from someone you’d ever settle down with, so that makes him a good bet for a casual fling.”

London was warming to the idea of a quick, steamy interlude with the sexy race-car driver. Still, she’d never slept with anyone she didn’t have feelings for. Yet with what she, Everly and Zoe were up to, maybe the fact that London wasn’t going to fall for the guy was a plus.

“You might be right.”

Maybe it would be okay to give sexual chemistry and a casual relationship a quick spin. They were both adults. What harm could it do?

Three

Harrison arrived at The Front Porch ten minutes early and parked himself at the bar in easy range of the entrance to wait for London’s arrival. Since leaving her office that morning, he’d been half expecting she’d call to cancel. With each hour that passed, he’d grown increasingly confident that she wasn’t going to fight their mutual attraction. Yet now, as he counted down the minutes until she walked in, he found his stomach tying itself into anxious knots.

Her effect on him should’ve sent him running in the opposite direction. Already he suspected that they were at odds on several fundamental issues. For one thing, she wasn’t his type and it was pretty clear he wasn’t hers. She was elegant and aloof. Completely the opposite of the fun-loving ladies who hung out at the track, enjoyed drinking beer and weren’t afraid to get a little dirty.

He imagined she’d be bossy as hell in a relationship. Tonight was a good example. She’d chosen the time and place, taking control, making it clear if he wanted to play, it would be by her rules. Harrison smirked. She could make all the rules she wanted. He’d bend every one.

The restaurant’s front door opened, and before Harrison had fully focused on the woman on the threshold, his heart gave a hard jerk. For someone accustomed to facing near collisions at ridiculous speeds and regularly operating at high levels of stress for long periods of time without faltering, Harrison wasn’t sure what to make of the jolt London’s arrival had given him.

For the space of several irregular breaths as her gaze swept the restaurant in search of him, Harrison had the opportunity to take her in. She’d changed her clothes since their earlier meeting and looked stunning in a navy dress with a broad neckline that bared her delicate shoulders and the hollows above her collarbones. The material hugged her upper body, highlighting the curves of her breasts, before flaring into a full skirt that stopped at her knees. The dark color contrasted with the creamy tones of her pale skin and highlighted her blue eyes. She’d pulled her hair back into a loose knot at the base of her neck and left long strands of gold waves to frame her face. Her only jewelry was a pair of simple pearl earrings.

When she spotted him, her uncertain smile hit Harrison like lightning. His nerves buzzed in the aftermath as he made his way through the crowded bar toward her.

“You look gorgeous,” he murmured, cupping his fingers around her bare arm and leaning down to graze a kiss across her cheek.

Her body tensed at his familiarity, but her smile remained in place as he stepped back and looked down at her.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice neither breathless nor coy. She took in his jeans, light blue shirt and oatmeal-colored blazer. “You look quite dapper,” she said, reaching out to tug at the navy pocket square in his breast pocket.

“I’m glad you approve,” he said and meant it. “And I’m glad you were able to join me for dinner tonight.”

“You were kind to invite me.”

Niceties concluded, Harrison set his hand on her back and guided her toward the hostess. They were led to a table by the front windows overlooking King Street.

“Do you come here a lot?” Harrison asked after they were seated. He scanned the menu, which specialized in farm-to-table fare, and settled on the scallops with smoked yogurt, beets and pistachio.

“Actually, I’ve never been, but it’s one of Maribelle and Beau’s favorite places. They had their first date here and...it’s where he proposed.” Her eyes widened as if she realized what she’d implied. “They’re always going on and on about how good the food is. That’s why I picked it.”

“Can’t wait to see if they’re right.”

“So, you’ve never been here before?”

Harrison shook his head. “I don’t get out much.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true. I’m on the road so much of the year that when I do get home, I like to hole up and recharge.”

“You do?”

“Most of my time and attention is focused on cars and racing. Analyzing my competition, studying the track, figuring out how I can improve.”

“I did a little research on you and learned you’re a big deal in racing.” Bright spots of color appeared in her cheeks as he raised his eyebrows at her confession. “Lots of appearances and events.”

“All to promote Crosby Motorsports. I’m actually an introvert.” He could tell she wasn’t buying it.

“You can’t possibly be. You’re a fan favorite with a huge following.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I do my share of press events and meeting fans, but it isn’t what I enjoy. I’d much rather be tinkering with a car or hanging out with a few of my friends.”

She made a face. “I figured you would be out in the public, soaking up the accolades, enjoying your stardom.”

Her thorny tone made him frown. “You seem to have a very jaded view of me. Why is that?”

“It’s not you.” She moved her wineglass around in circles on the white tablecloth and seemed engrossed in the light refracted by the liquid. “I guess it’s what you do. I’ve spent a lot of time around sports stars and most of them love being celebrities. The adoring fans. The special attention they get wherever they go. It makes them act...entitled.”

Obviously her attitude had been formed during her relationship with Lincoln Thurston. As a professional baseball player, no doubt Thurston had enjoyed his share of the limelight. Harrison needed to convince her he and her ex-fiancé weren’t cut from the same cloth.

“Not all of them,” Harrison insisted.

“Most of them.”

“Was Linc that way?” He’d asked, even knowing that it was risky to probe for details about what might be painful for her.

“I don’t want to talk about him.” London’s brittle tone was a warning to Harrison that he should tread carefully.

Still, he needed to know where her head was at. “Because you’re still not over the breakup?”

How could she be? He’d done his own bit of research on her and discovered only a few months had passed since their two-year engagement ended.

“I am over it.” The bits of gold floating in London’s blue eyes flashed.

“Are you over him?”

She exhaled in exasperation. “We were together for three years.”

“So that’s a no?”

London’s expression hardened into a look that Harrison interpreted as back off. That wasn’t going to stop him. This woman was worth fighting for.

“I can’t imagine what having him break your engagement must have been like for you, but I am happy to listen if you want to dump on the guy.” He paused and then grinned. “Or the male gender as a whole.”

From her frown, he could see his offer had confused her.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I think too many men suck in the way they treat women.”

“And you don’t?” Her earlier tension faded into skepticism.

“I’m sure you can find plenty of women who would complain about me.”

One corner of her lips twitched. “So what, then, makes you so different from all the other men out there?”

“Maybe nothing. Or maybe it’s the case that I don’t take advantage of people because I can. I’m not an entitled jerk like my brother can be all too often.” Harrison brought up Tristan to see how London reacted. She’d shown far too much interest in him at the party and Harrison wanted to understand why. “Tristan treats women like they’re his personal playground.”

“But until recently he’s been married. Are you insinuating he wasn’t faithful?” London’s interest intensified when Harrison shook his head. “I’ve never understood why men bother being in a relationship if they intend to cheat.”

Harrison recalled what his uncle Bennett had told him about Linc Thurston’s infidelity. London had every right to be skittish when it came to trusting any guy she perceived as having the same sort of fame and fortune as her ex-fiancé.

“It’s a social norm.”

London looked positively dumbstruck. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Harrison countered.

“What about love?”

“Not everyone believes in love. I don’t think my brother does. Tristan chose to marry a very beautiful, very young, woman who was passive and pliable. For eight years she satisfied his need for a decorative and docile companion.” Harrison recalled how Zoe’s spirit dimmed with each wedding anniversary. “Her only failure was in her inability to make my brother happy.”

“Why was that her responsibility?” London asked in surprise. “Isn’t marriage a partnership where you support each other?”

“Mine will be.” Harrison waited a beat to see how she absorbed that before continuing, “I think Zoe’s dissatisfaction with her role grew too strong to be contained. One thing about Tristan—he likes having his way and becomes a bear if events run counter to his preferences. I imagine him perceiving Zoe’s discontent as nothing he’d done wrong, but a failing on her part.”

London absorbed his assessment for several seconds before asking, “How close are you with his ex-wife?”

“I like Zoe. She’s quiet and subdued, but once you get to know her you see that she has a warm heart and a wry sense of humor.” He could go on extolling her virtues but decided to keep to his original purpose, which was to make sure London understood that Tristan wasn’t a good guy. “She deserved better than my brother.”

“I hope she appreciated having you as her champion.”

“I don’t know about that. If I’d been a better friend, I would’ve steered her away from marrying Tristan.”

“You might not have been able to do that. Sometimes we have to make our own mistakes. It’s the only way we learn.”

“Maybe, but some mistakes carry harsher consequences than others.”

London sat back and let her hands slide into her lap. She regarded him steadily with her keen blue eyes. “You aren’t what I expected.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“The jury is still out,” she said, an enigmatic smile kicking up the corners of her lips. “So, Mr. Introvert, what is it you enjoy besides cars and racing?”

“The usual guy stuff. Outdoor sports. Spending time with my friends. How about you? What do you do when you’re not working?”

She laughed. “Sleep and eat. Sometimes I get a massage or facial. I have a hard time unwinding.”

“Sounds like we’re both on the go a lot.”

“Like a shark. Swim or die.”

The phone in her purse chimed. She’d set the clutch on the table beside her plate and now made a face at it. “Sorry.” The tone repeated.

“Do you need to get that?”

“No.” She heaved a sigh. “I already know what it’s about.”

“That’s impressive,” he teased and was rewarded with a grimace.

“About this weekend...”

Something in her tone made him grin. “You’ve decided to accept my invitation to watch me race in Richmond.”

“I spoke with Maribelle,” she replied. “Both she and her fiancé are excited about your offer.”

Her carefully worded statement left room for interpretation. “What about you?”

“I’m not sure what I’m getting into, so I’m reserving judgment.”

“I guess that’s something,” he murmured, convinced he would win her over.

“We’re flying up Saturday morning,” she continued, ignoring his dry remark. “And Beau was wondering if you’d be able to get us into the pit. At least I think that’s what he wanted to know.”

“Absolutely.”

She’d been seated facing the restaurant’s entrance and suddenly her eyes went wide in surprise. Harrison drew a breath to ask what was wrong when she shifted her attention back to him and smiled brightly.

“You know...” she began, picking up her purse. “Maybe I should double-check the text to make sure nothing is amiss.” She gave a nervous half laugh. “The pitfall of being the boss is that I’m always on call. Excuse me, won’t you?”

And before Harrison could say anything, she’d fled the table, leaving him staring over his shoulder after her.

* * *

Everly Briggs strode along King Street, paying little attention to the restaurants, stores and bars clustered along the popular thoroughfare. Her entire focus was on the tall man she was following.

Linc Thurston appeared unaware of the stir he caused as he passed. Usually the professional baseball player paused to chat with fans he encountered, but tonight he seemed intent on reaching his destination.

Since Everly, London and Zoe had met at the Beautiful Women Taking Charge event, Everly had been actively pursuing whatever angle she could to take down Linc. From digging into all available gossip, Everly had gotten wind that the reason he’d broken off his engagement to London was that he’d started cheating on her with his housekeeper.

Once she’d determined that they weren’t just involved in a fling, but a full-blown, secret relationship, she determined this would be the best way to get revenge on him. At the moment she had plans in the works to expose the woman’s lies and sabotage her credibility. Linc would learn what it meant to be betrayed by someone he loved.

Of course, her plans would completely fall apart if she was wrong about the strength of his feelings for Claire Robbins, so Everly was doing a little spying to see if his cheating was a onetime event or if the man was a typical representation of his gender.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that Everly hadn’t noticed Linc had stopped walking until she drew within arm’s length. Jerking to a halt would be too obvious, so Everly was forced to sail on past. She did take note of what had captured his interest, however, and spotted London occupying a table beside the large window of The Front Porch. She was obviously having dinner with Harrison Crosby and the couple was engaged in some pretty serious flirting.

What the hell was London doing? She was supposed to be taking down Tristan Crosby, not dating his brother.

Everly’s irritation spiked as she reached the end of the block. By the time she turned the corner, she’d pulled out her phone. Pausing, she typed a text and sent it. Although the three women had agreed not to communicate to avoid their plotting being discovered, Everly simply had to confront London.

We need to meet—E

She tapped her foot as she waited for a response. Meanwhile she kept her gaze on King Street, expecting Linc to pass by at any second. She’d intended to continue her surveillance and it annoyed her that London’s behavior was forcing her to detour. When her phone didn’t immediately chime with an answer from London, Everly rapidly typed a second message.

I saw you having dinner tonight. What r u doing?

When London still didn’t answer, Everly knew she had no choice but to push the issue.

Linc had passed by while Everly had been typing her second text. Instead of following him, she doubled back to the restaurant. London sat facing the entrance and Everly made sure the woman noticed her enter. The two made brief eye contact before Everly headed toward the back, where the restrooms were located.

She entered the ladies’ room and was relieved to find the stalls empty. She approached the sinks and pulled her lipstick out. Fury made her hands shake. While she was here dealing with London, Linc was getting away.

By the time London pushed through the door, Everly was more than ready to let her have it.

“Why are you having dinner with Harrison Crosby?” she snarled, barely restraining the urge to shout in displeasure. “You’re supposed to be going after Tristan.”

“What are you doing here?” London countered, pitching her voice barely above a whisper. “We agreed the way this works is to not have any contact with each other. We can’t be seen together.”

“I came to find out why you’re going after the wrong brother,” Everly said, ignoring London’s objections.

London crossed her arms over her chest and glared back. “Did it ever occur to you that Harrison might be the best way for me to get close to Tristan?”

Everly let loose a disparaging noise. How could London possibly think she was buying that? It was obvious what was going on.

“It’s more likely that you find him attractive and plan on sleeping with him.” Based on the way London refused to meet Everly’s gaze, she’d hit it square on the head. “Do you have any idea how badly that could backfire?”

“Look,” London said, showing no sign of being convinced that her actions were flawed. “It’s none of your business how I handle my end of the bargain. You and I meeting like this could become a problem if anyone sees us together and it’s discovered that you were behind whatever happens with Linc.”

“Give me some credit,” Everly snapped. “No one’s ever going to find out I was the one behind what happens to him.”

“Regardless. We agreed this only works if we don’t have any contact with each other. So leave me alone.”

Before Everly could say another word, London flung open the bathroom door and exited.

For several long minutes Everly fumed. This situation with London and Harrison Crosby was a problem. Now she had to keep her eye on her own revenge scenario and make sure London stayed focused on their plan. And if London couldn’t do the job, then Everly would show her what happened when you turned your back on your friends.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.