And The Winner Gets...Married!. Metsy Hingle
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guess not.” He eyed Kim warily. “What about Schaeffer?”
“Your New York meeting with him could be moved up a few hours. Say a meeting over lunch instead of one that spilled over into the dinner hour.”
“What makes you think Schaeffer will agree to that?” Justin asked. “I had a devil of a time getting that meeting in the first place.”
“I’ve gotten to be sort of friendly on the phone with Mr. Schaeffer’s secretary,” Kim said. “She works closely with him. I think I can get her to convince him that it would be…beneficial to have an early meeting and leave his evening free.”
“I see,” Justin said.
Kim felt her own face heat at the knowing look in his hazel eyes. “That way even if your meeting with Mr. Schaeffer runs over, as long as you made it to the airport by five o’clock or five-thirty, I can get you on a shuttle that would put you back in Chicago in three hours. Allowing thirty minutes travel time to get you from O’Hare to the hotel, you could be there for nine o’clock.”
“And I can have a driver waiting at the airport to pick you up and take you to the hotel,” Tara concluded. She clasped her hands together and smiled. “Please, Justin, say you’ll do it.”
“Seeing how my assistant has conspired with you, I don’t seem to have much choice.”
Tara turned to her and beamed. “Bless you, Kimberly Lindgren. I owe you one.”
“Not at all. I was glad to help.”
“You did a great deal more than help,” Tara insisted before turning back to Justin. “The woman’s not only a diplomat, she’s a genius, Justin. I wonder if you realize how lucky you are.”
“I’m beginning to.”
Something in Justin’s voice and the way he was looking at her caused Kim’s pulse to race. Mortified that he might realize how she felt about him, she averted her gaze. “I’d better go see about making those calls,” Kim told them.
“And I’ve got to go or I’ll never make it to that meeting on time,” Justin replied and began shoving papers into his briefcase.
“But we have to discuss your date package,” Tara informed him even as he snapped the briefcase shut and reached for his suit jacket. She followed him to the door. “We need to come up with something really special.”
“Get with Kim,” he told her. “She’ll know what to do.”
“I think dinner and tickets to the theater would be nice,” Kim suggested a few minutes later.
“Nice, but not special,” Tara informed her. “If a woman is going to bid top dollar for a date with Justin, we need to offer her something exciting.”
Just being on a date with Justin would be exciting enough for her, Kim mused silently. But then she was in love with him and had been for months now. Not that Justin had any clue about her feelings for him. He didn’t. And for that she was eternally grateful. After all, what could be more cliché than to have a secretary fall in love with her boss—a boss who didn’t even know she existed?
“Any ideas?”
Kim gave herself a mental shake and reminded herself to deal in reality. “How about one of those dinner cruises?”
“Hmm. That would be romantic. But I was hoping for something different,” Tara replied. She crossed her legs and began to tap one manicured nail against her chin. Suddenly her finger stilled, and, tilting her head to the side, she stared at Kim. “If you were the one going on a date with Justin, where would you want to go?”
Kim stiffened. Had Tara somehow picked up on her feelings for Justin, she wondered. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Really, Mrs. Paige, I don’t think—”
“Please,” Tara said, wincing. “Do you think you could manage to call me Tara? I’m guessing that we’re about the same age, but every time you call me Mrs. Paige I feel like someone’s grandmother.”
Kim’s lips twitched. “You don’t look like anyone’s grandmother.”
“I certainly hope not,” Tara told her with a laugh.
The woman was beautiful, glamorous, sophisticated. Everything that she wasn’t, Kim thought. And even though at twenty-four she was only a year younger than the other woman, Tara had already been married, widowed and had a child. Kim couldn’t help but think that life was passing her by quickly.
“So what would you consider a fun and exciting date?” Tara asked.
“I doubt that my idea of fun and excitement would appeal to the women who’ll be bidding at the auction.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not like them,” Kim answered honestly.
“You’re a woman, aren’t you?”
“I…yes.”
“Then whatever appeals to you should appeal to other women.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Tara told her and stood. She gathered up her purse and gloves. “I’ve got to run. But why don’t you put a date package together that would appeal to you.”
“Like what?”
Tara shrugged. “I don’t know. Something that you would like to do if you were the woman going out on a date with Justin. Make it as simple or elaborate as you want.”
“But what if I choose something that’s all wrong?”
“You won’t,” Tara assured her. “Trust your instincts, Kim. Whatever you choose, I’m sure it’s going to be perfect.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” Kim told her and wished she had as much confidence in herself as Tara seemed to have in her.
“I am,” Tara said with a smile and started toward the door. She paused, turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot. Are you doing anything Friday night?”
“No,” Kim replied cautiously.
“Great. I’ve purchased a couple of tables for the fund-raiser, so I have some extra tickets. Would you do me a favor and attend as my guest?”
“But Mrs.— Tara,” she corrected when the other woman gave her a reproving look. “That’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t possibly go.”
“Why not? You said you were free.”
“I am, but—”
“No buts. You deserve to enjoy yourself after all your hard work, and you’d be doing me a favor by going. Will you need a ticket for an escort?”
“Uh, no. That won’t be necessary.” It had been months since she’d been out on a date—and couldn’t even fathom whom she would ask to accompany her to something like this.
Tara beamed at her. “Great. Then I’ll see that a ticket is messengered over to you in the morning.”
Before Kim could argue further and tell Tara that she really didn’t belong at such an affair, the other woman was gone.
“Damn it!” Justin pitched the report he’d been reading onto the others on his desk. How he would dearly love to wring Robert Marsh’s neck. Unfortunately, he couldn’t because the man had covered his tracks well. Frustrated, Justin shoved away from his desk and wandered over to the windows that filled one wall of his office. Normally looking out at the skyline soothed him, helped him to organize his thoughts. Yet watching the shifting colors as the sun began its descent seemed to make him even more restless. Probably something to do with the gloomy weather that had played havoc with the city most of the day, he told himself.
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