Affairs of State. Jennifer Lewis
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professional of him to show up on her doorstep without warning. “Do you whisk women off in cars on a regular basis?”
He shot her a sideways glance. “No, I don’t.”
Her chest swelled a little. So she was special? She wondered if he’d prolonged his trip to see more of her. Then chastised herself for having such a vain thought. She’d better steer this conversation in a business direction. “I told Scarlet about your plans for the fund-raiser and she’s going to start work on finding the venue. How are your other fund-raising efforts going?”
“That’s an abrupt change of subject.” His tawny eyes glittered with humor. “And I’m forced to confess I haven’t made much headway. Every time I try talking about education in Africa, people’s eyes glaze over and they ask about my latest climbing expedition. I’m afraid I can never resist talking about climbing.”
“You need to make your cause sexier.” Uh-oh. Just saying the word caused the temperature in the car to rise a degree or two.
He cocked a brow. “Sexy? How do I do that?”
“You focus on the elements of your organization that make people feel good about themselves. For example, with breast cancer, pink ribbons make people think about triumph and recovery. That makes them want to get out their wallets a lot more than lectures about incredible new discoveries in small cell cancer treatments. For a party I’d have pink pearls and pink roses and pink champagne. They don’t have anything at all to do with cancer, but they make people feel happy about embracing the cause.”
Forehead furrowed, he looked intrigued. “So you think I need to rebrand my charity?”
“I don’t really know enough about it. Do you have a brand or logo or imagery you use often?”
He made a wry expression. “Not at all. We simply print the name in blue on white paper. I’m beginning to see what you mean.”
“So what excites you the most about what your organization does?”
He frowned for a moment and looked straight ahead, then turned to her. “Including people in the conversation about our future. Giving them access to technology that makes them part of our world and a way to be heard in it.”
“That’s sexy. And big technology companies are a nice target market for your fund-raising. You’d certainly be speaking their language. How about ‘join the conversation’ as your marketing ploy, so you’re inviting everyone to be part of the future you imagine.”
He stared at her. “I like the way your mind works.”
She shrugged. “I brainstorm this kind of stuff all the time.”
“I had no idea party planning was so involved. I thought it was all choosing napkins and printing invitations.”
“That’s the easy part. The hard part is making each event stand out from the thousands of others taking place during the year. In your case, people would expect a prince to have a very exclusive, private dinner, so an outdoor concert rather takes people by surprise. It also creates the sense of inclusion that your charity is all about. In addition to the event’s raising money from ticket sales, it’ll get people talking and that will generate additional donations and bring in people who want to help.”
He still stared right at her, and she could almost hear his brain moving a million miles a minute. “Where have you been all my life?”
A smile crept across her mouth. “Read the papers. You can learn more about my past than I can even remember.”
He laughed. “I know that feeling. I think we have a lot in common.”
How could she feel so comfortable talking to this man from one of the great royal houses of Europe? Well, she’d never been too impressed by royalty. That probably helped in situations like this.
“That’s probably why I’ve appeared in your life to help you cope with it.”
“Destiny at work.” She swallowed. Did she really believe that some mysterious workings of fate had brought her and Simon together?
No. They were simply going to spend a pleasant afternoon looking at antiques. They’d put together a fun concert that would get people talking about World Connect. Then he’d go back to England and she’d get on with whatever her life was going to be.
What about the chemistry crackling between them right now in the back of the car? What about the way her skin heated when he leaned toward her, or her stomach swirled with strange sensations when he fixed her with that thoughtful gaze?
She was going to ignore that. So was he. No one was going to do anything they might regret. They were both grownups and far too sensible for that.
What a relief.
The driver took them to a little town called Danes Mills, where he parked behind a quaint restaurant that reminded Ariella of a British pub. The entire main street appeared to be upscale antique shops, with maybe a gift shop or bookstore for variety. Simon helped her from the car while the driver held the door. It was all very formal and majestic and made her feel like a princess. Which she wasn’t.
People did turn to look at them. She wasn’t sure if she imagined the whispers. While she knew people thought she was pretty, she didn’t have the kind of looks that demanded attention. In fact she considered herself a nondescript brunette, so she didn’t usually have to worry about standing out from the crowd. People recognized Simon, though. He was tall and broad and attracted admiration without even trying. They’d probably stare at him even if he wasn’t a well-known prince. Maybe they were turning to look at him for the same reasons she wanted to—because he was handsome and his smile could melt an iceberg.
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