Winter Magic: 4 (The Hawks Mountain Series) (5 page)

Jonathan glanced at Andi. A flush of light pink colored her cheeks. So as not to embarrass her further, he straightened his spine and stretched his aching shoulders, then said casually, “I’m glad you approve, Aunt Sarah, but I think you’re embarrassing Miss Cameron.”

“Well, this girl is special. Even a blind man can see that, my boy.” This time, Sarah didn’t even attempt to lower her voice or conceal the wink accompanying her pronouncement.

To Jonathan’s surprise, his aunt’s veiled suggestion that Andi might be Ms. Right dug into his subconscious and made itself comfortable. Now, why on earth would he even consider
 . . .
Still, the suggestion clung to his brain like the agent of one of their
New York Times
bestselling clients.

In the background, he could hear his aunt and Andi talking, but their words were lost in his tangle of thoughts. He didn’t understand for one minute what had happened to him since Andi had gotten out of that disreputable car in his driveway. It was as if he’d taken leave of his senses. Good grief, he’d never even been partial to blondes. He preferred brunettes. And he hadn’t reacted to her like this the first time they’d met.

“Tippy tells me that you did a wonderful job on her housewarming party,” his aunt was saying.

Sarah poured herself a cup of tea from the teapot Davis the butler had brought earlier at Jonathan’s request. That the corpulent man had brought three cups instead of two had puzzled Jonathan at the time. Now, he realized that Aunt Sarah’s visit had not been as impromptu as she’d like them to believe.

“Tippy said that you pulled the whole thing off like clockwork, Andi.” Sarah added one cube of sugar and a slice of lemon to her cup, then stirred.

“Thank you. I’m glad to hear that. We try to keep our clients happy.”

One more hurdle cleared. Andi took a relieved breath and studied Sarah. Probably in her mid to late seventies, Sarah Abbott epitomized the
grande dame
of society, except her straightforward speech lacked the obvious air of snobbery that many of the matriarchs possessed. Andi wondered if Sarah’s origins had been grass roots stock and not a product of the silver spoon set.

Taking a sip from her tea, Sarah smiled at Andi over the edge of the cup. The woman’s green eyes sparkled with an inner warmth and a hint of deviltry, and something else that Andi could only describe as an almost magical quality. Not a doubt lingered in Andi’s mind that, given the opportunity, Sarah would be the life of any party. But even more than that, she would be a good friend.

“Did you enjoy working for Tippy?” Sarah set her cup down, then leaned close and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “I’ve heard that she can be a royal you-know-what when dealing with her help.” She frowned. “I’m sorry, my dear. That sounded very snobbish of me, and it’s not at all the way I meant it.”

Andi laid her hand on Sarah’s, covering the network of blue veins crisscrossing the back. Her papery skin held a warmth that seeped into Andi. “That’s quite all right. I understood what you meant.”

She really liked Jonathan’s aunt’s earthiness and candid manner. However, she’d reserve an opinion on Sarah’s stiff, all-business nephew. He may be drop-dead gorgeous, but he had an edge about him that she felt he used to keep people at a distance, everyone that is except his aunt, whom he clearly adored.

“Anyway, I was told that Tippy’s party was a resounding success. She sang your praises to the rafters and told me we had to get you for the gala. I was told that the entire cream of Myrtle Beach society attended. I couldn’t go. I don’t travel well these days. Touch of arthritis. Besides, the stretch between rest stops is a tad too long for my old bladder.”

“Aunt Sarah!” Clearly appalled by his aunt’s candor, Jonathan frowned. Andi, on the other hand, had to work to hold back a smile.

The older woman brushed off his reprimand with a graceful wave of her hand. “I’m sure Andi is aware that we all have the same bodily functions. It’s just that the timer on mine has seen better days. Besides, when you get to my age, you begin to say what you want and society be damned.” She paused, then frowned. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Tippy always exaggerates about how many people come to her parties. At last, I can get the inside information.” Sarah smiled mischievously. “Exactly how many guests did she have, my dear?”

Before Andi could even think about answering, the butler emerged in the doorway and cleared his throat. “Luncheon is served in the dining room, sir.”

Saved by the bell.

Jonathan nodded. “Thank you, Davis.”

The stoic man dipped his head slightly in response. Bending at the waist the way Andi had seen butlers do in movies, would have been quite impossible for Davis, considering his abundant girth. Having made his announcement, he slipped unobtrusively away.

Andi drew a relieved breath and hoped that Sarah had forgotten her question, a question that, since Andi hadn’t been at the infamous Tippy’s party, she didn’t have a hope of answering.

LATER, WHILE Jonathan, Aunt Sarah, and Andi sat around the highly polished cherry table in a dining room large enough, in Andi’s opinion, to house the Super Bowl, they ate the sumptuous lunch Davis had served. Okay, maybe Super Bowl was an exaggeration. But the room was certainly large enough to hold way more than a few intimate friends.

As they finished a delicious bowl of cream of broccoli soup, and to Andi’s horror, Sarah repeated her question. “So, tell me. Exactly how many people
did
Tippy have at her party?”

Stalling for time, Andi quickly bit into the last of her flaky croissant and looked around the posh room. Above the fragrant pine boughs gracing the mantel of a large, blazing fireplace, much like the one in Jonathan’s study, hung a portrait of a man. His stern, censuring expression bore into Andi. He looked as if he would jump from the frame at any moment and reveal her for the fraud she was.

Quickly averting her gaze, Andi found her table companion waiting for a reply. Andi swallowed, and then washed the suddenly doughy roll down with a sip of the mimosa Sarah had insisted she try. The drink had been delicious, but not being use to alcohol, the mixture of champagne and orange juice had made Andi’s brain fuzzy.

How could she possibly guess the number of people who had attended Tippy’s party? Nancy hadn’t prepped her for small talk about the business. Andi dabbed at the butter on her lips with the pale blue, linen napkin. “I’m not sure, but it was a lot.”

Brilliant, Andrea!

Sarah laughed. “I understand and admire your sense of propriety. It wouldn’t be professional of you to talk about a customer, and I apologize. It was wrong of me to press you for an answer.” She leaned closer to Andi. “But someday I’m going to catch that pompous bi—woman stretching the truth.”

Jonathan, who had been very quiet, stood. “Well, I’m afraid it will have to be another time, Aunt Sarah. Miss Cameron and I have work to do.”

“Very well, Jonny. But I still think she’s special.” Sarah winked at Andi. “There’s a lot to be said for a woman who can refrain from gossiping. I’d hang on to her if I were you.”

Andi could feel her face flush. Was Sarah talking about keeping Andi around in connection with the gala, or was she playing matchmaker?

JONATHAN’S STUDY screamed two things: male and money. Despite the cheery Christmas decorations that abounded in the room, Andi’s nerves had been on edge from the moment she’d stepped over the threshold that morning. Now that they had returned to its confines, the ease of Sarah’s comforting presence evaporated.

While Andi waited for Jonathan to gather some papers from his files, she took in her surroundings. A collection of glass paperweights filled a cabinet behind the large desk, and others were scattered about the room on table tops. On a credenza on the opposite wall, a hodgepodge of family photos vied for space with scattered pine boughs and silver angels. Among the pictures, she picked out one of Sarah at a much younger age, confirming Andi’s guess that Sarah had been a real beauty in her youth. From the eclectic assortment of a personal objects scattered about, Andi sensed that Jonathan’s office provided a refuge for him as much as her home did for her.

“Ah, here it is,” he announced, waving a piece of paper. “I knew I had the program from last year’s gala.” He handed Andi the paper, then took a seat next to her on the couch.

Uncomfortable with his nearness, Andi slid to the edge of the sofa, as if assuring herself of a quick getaway. She glanced over the program. It consisted mostly of speeches made by various dignitaries. Hardly an expert on this type of thing, it occurred to her that listening to a bunch of dry speeches was scarcely the way to get people to loosen their purse strings. She made a mental note to speak to Nancy about this.

Pushing aside a paperweight and a sleigh full of snowmen, she placed the program on the coffee table. “I’ve brought some sample programs from the printer. Perhaps you’d like to glance at them
 . . .
” Her voice and coherent thought failed her at about the same moment. With Jonathan right beside her, she could smell his unique personal scent, and it was making her mimosa-fuzzy head even fuzzier.

Lord, but the man was unnerving. She felt like a school girl. Why couldn’t they have stayed in the dining room? At least there, the surroundings were much less intimate, and he hadn’t been such a threat to her peace of mind.

She felt a fine sheen of perspiration break out on her forehead. Hadn’t someone said don’t let them see you sweat? If she didn’t get a grip on her emotions, the last thing she’d have to be worrying about would be sweating.

Trying to keep the details of Miranda’s business straight was causing her enough worries. She didn’t need to be disarmed by the effect his proximity had on her, too. That she was even allowing any thought of Jonathan into her mind beyond business was ridiculous.

Desperate to channel her thoughts into a safer area, she began mentally to recite the alphabet.
A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J
 . . .
Jonathan.
It wasn’t working.

Business. Maybe if she just got them back on a business track, she could erase the tingles riding her spine. She turned to face him. He had settled back on the sofa, putting him in direct eye contact with her. The space between them seemed to have shrunk to nothing. He was so close. Temptingly close. His blue eyes bore into hers. My goodness, no one had the right to be this
 . . .
this
 . . .
this
 . . .

“Miss Cameron?”

His voice filtered slowly through the fog surrounding Andi’s brain.

“Andi?”

Andi blinked. Dazed, she glanced around, slowly bringing the room back into focus. Then her gaze met his. She moved still farther away from him. Her face felt hot enough to cook on. Unable to look at him and feeling the complete fool, she concentrated on the first thing her gaze came in contact with, an insect trapped inside the clear Lucite paperweight on the coffee table. She could relate.

Andi prided herself on being an intelligent woman. Why was this happening to her? What could she have been thinking? Miranda must be right. She needed to get out more, date, be in the company of men so she could read the signs. Just because a man sat next to you and breathed on you didn’t mean anything. Besides, once he came up against the real Miranda, Andi would fade into the background.

Andi sprang to her feet. There would be time to agonize over her behavior later. Right now, all she wanted was to get away from Jonathan.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She shrugged, kept her gaze turned away and spoke in a whisper. “I’m just a tad dizzy from the mimosa I had with lunch.”

“If you’d like, I can ask Davis to bring us some coffee.”

“No. That’s okay. I’m fine now, Mr. Prince.”

Jonathan frowned. “I thought we’d gotten past the formalities.” He couldn’t figure out why she suddenly as jumpy as a newborn rabbit. “I—”

“Perhaps we should move to your desk where you’ll be more
 . . .
where it’ll be easier to take notes on my information.”

Before he could say a word, she’d grabbed her clipboard and the programs and then moved to the leather chair facing his desk. Feeling a bit like a prizefighter who had taken an unexpected body blow to the bread basket, he rose and followed her. Seating himself in his chair, he swiveled to face her.

“Andi, is there something wrong? Something I said?” He studied her. “If I did, it was totally unintentional, and I apologize.” Why was he apologizing? He hadn’t done anything. Oh, he would have liked to, there was no question about that. Even now, while he watched her fuss with the clipboard and her skirt hem, he felt the irrational need to go around the desk and haul her into his arms, to erase the look of panic that filled her eyes.

And, he told himself, that’s exactly what she wants. This timid facade she’s presenting is nothing more than a cover-up for the blatant moves she put on him at their first meeting. Since her overt passes didn’t work, now she’s playing the coy innocent.

Watch your step with this one, Jonathan. She’s been around the block a few times.

“There’s no need to apologize.” Andi looked away. “You didn’t do anything. It was just the mimosas. So, please, can we just forget it and get on with our business?” Andi slipped a pencil from above her ear, and then checked off something on her clipboard. “I’m going to need an estimate of the guest count to give the caterer before I can give you an accurate estimate as to the cost of this affair.”

He shook himself mentally to get back on track. “Uh, I can have a fairly accurate head count for you in a couple of days. The invitations went out three weeks ago, and the responses are coming in. The cut-off date is next week. I can give you an exact count then.” He heard himself talking, but he wasn’t sure what he was saying. He just hoped it was the right thing and that it made sense.

This inability to focus on business was so totally unlike him. He didn’t seem able to drag his attention away from Andi. The way her skirt insisted on riding up her shapely thigh. The way her chest rose and fell beneath the pink silk of her suit jacket every time she took a breath. The sound of her voice.

She patted at the clasp holding her hair at the nape of her neck. “That’ll be fine. I’ll get my theme suggestions to you, and when you settle on what we’re going to use, we can gear the food, the decor, and the table centerpieces to carry through in the same style.”

What in heaven’s name was wrong with him? He tore his gaze away from her and started taking notes. “Fine.”

“What about the hotel? Will there be a problem because you’re using an outside caterer? Will our caterer be able to utilize their kitchen facilities?”

“I’ve already arranged for the kitchen to be at the disposal of your caterer. Normally, the hotel doesn’t allow that, but I’ve made it clear that if we can’t use their kitchen, I’ll find somewhere else to hold the event.” He paused, glad that he’d at last found his focus and concentration. “As for a theme, that will have to wait until I see what you come up with. But I’d like to use something far removed from those we’ve used in the last few years.”

“Which were?”

He frowned, and after a moment’s thought, said, “Nothing, actually. Just lots of flowers strewn about in vases, and an orchestra.”

“Who will benefit from the contributions? That may help us zero in on a theme.” She glanced at him, then quickly averted her gaze to the clipboard. “Using a theme makes everything easier. Decorations fall into place, as well as the food, and everything else.”

“The raised money occasionally goes for a variety of causes, such as the fundraiser we did for abused women with Becky Hart and Catherine Daniels a few months ago. However, it also goes to several children’s charities. Each year, we pick one charity specifically.

“The donations from this year are targeted to build additional rooms at The Wishing Place. It’s something of a half-way house for kids. Among other things, it’s a house where parents stay while their children undergo medical treatment, and for children to receive outpatient attention until hospital space becomes available.”

Andi’s face brightened. Her smile turned radiant. “I know of The Wishing Place, and they badly need more rooms for parents.”

The Wishing Place had been his brain child and held a special place in his heart. Her intense interest snagged his attention. “You’re familiar with it?”

“I do volunteer work there a couple of times a week.”

“Really?” Another surprise that he never would have attributed to the woman he’d met last week, but for some reason it fit perfectly with the woman she displayed today.

“How do you feel about doing something really different with the gala that involves the children who would benefit, assuming we are able to obtain permission for them to be part of it?”

He considered it for just a moment and then nodded. “As long as the hospital staff okays it, I’m open to suggestions.”

She was staring at him, her bottom lip caught thoughtfully between her teeth. Jonathan sucked in his breath sharply. He couldn’t recall ever seeing anything so sexy before in his life. He swallowed hard.

Business, he told himself firmly.
Business
. “Do you have something specific in mind?”

Andi shook her head. “I’m still thinking about it. I’ve got several ideas, but I’m afraid I’ll need some time to work them out. Can I call you with them tomorrow?”

Her enthusiasm infected him. He leaned forward, eagerly. “Tomorrow would be fine.” He couldn’t help grinning at her excitement and the fact that “his” kids might be a part of this.

Andi stared at him for a moment, then stood and began rapidly gathering her things. “I think we’ve about covered everything, Mr. Prince. I’ll see what my staff can develop to carry through on a theme.”

Reluctant to see her go, he started around the desk. A faint popping noise drew his gaze to the back of her head.

“Oh!”

Andi’s barrette had broken, and her hair fairly exploded around her face. Awestruck, he watched it settle in a golden blanket over her shoulders, then slowly slide down her chest to cover her breasts.

Instantly, heat flashed through him, warming every part of his body. He had never seen anything so lovely, so subtle yet utterly arousing.

Andi caught the pieces of the broken barrette as they fell from her hair. “Drat!” Sighing, she bundled her hair around her fingers. Holding it with one hand, she rummaged through her purse with the other. “I was sure I’d thrown another barrette in here.”

As if in a trance, he stepped forward. As she rummaged through her purse, he captured her wrist. “No. Don’t put it back up. It’s too lovely to be confined. You should wear it down like this all the time.” Had that been his voice? As if it had burned him, he dropped her hand and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I had no right—”

“No, it’s okay.” She too moved backwards, as if he posed some threat to her. “I can’t find the barrette anyway, and I only keep it up because
 . . .
”

How did she explain that she kept it up because she always felt uncomfortable with the attention it garnered when it was down? At least she always had. Now, she found herself basking in his compliment.

What on earth was happening to her? She kept her eyes intentionally averted to her purse so she wouldn’t have to look at him, but it made her no less aware of Jonathan standing close enough for her to just walk into his arms. Andi didn’t understand what she was feeling, and she didn’t like it one little bit. No man had ever made her feel so out of control before, so vulnerable, so—

She had to get out of here, now, before she did something else to embarrass both of them. But she gained little comfort from knowing that, once she walked out of this house, except for her theme ideas, Miranda would take over, and Andi’s part in helping the children would be over. Equally disturbing, however, was the fact she’d never see Jonathan Prince again.