Meet Mr. Prince / Once a Cowboy.... Patricia Kay
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stuff?”
She rolled her eyes. “Alex, stop teasing me.”
His smile said he was pleased with himself. “You’ll be going somewhere very different from past assignments.”
“Really? That sounds intriguing. Where?”
Alex waited a heartbeat, then said, “New York.”
Georgie’s smile faded. “New York? You mean … New York City?”
“Yes, our New York office.”
“But … why?” Georgie told herself not to get upset.
“Because Zachary Prince, the director of the New York office, is in a bind right now. His assistant quit a month ago and we’ve had no luck replacing him. We’ve had a lot of candidates, but no one qualified or experienced enough to be a real asset. I don’t want to hire someone just to hire someone. What we do out of New York is too important. That’s why I thought of you.”
“But, Alex, that’s not what I do, I don’t work in an office, and I don’t want to waste—”
He held up his hand. “Wait. Hear me out before you say you don’t want the assignment.”
Georgie made a face.
“This is only temporary, Georgie. Just until we can find a permanent replacement. Both Zach and I intend to keep looking, but in the meantime—as soon as you can wind things up here—you’re perfect for the job. You don’t need any training, and you can be an immediate help to Zach, which is a huge plus. And just because you’re working out of the office doesn’t mean you won’t go into the field. In fact, being Zach’s assistant means you’ll get plenty of chances to look into possible beneficiaries of the Hunt Foundation—the only difference being that those beneficiaries will mostly be in the eastern part of the U.S. Wouldn’t you like to go to Appalachia?”
“Well, of course, I’d like to go to Appalachia, but—”
“But what?”
“I like doing evaluations. That’s what I’m good at.”
“I know that. It’s one of the big reasons you’re so perfect for this job. Zach tells me the pile of requests for assistance is stacking up faster than they can look at them.”
“You’re saying I’ll still get to do the evaluations and make recommendations?” Georgie knew she sounded skeptical. Shoot, she was skeptical. In her experience, assistants didn’t get the interesting jobs. They got the jobs the directors didn’t want to do themselves, probably involving tons of paperwork, which Georgie despised. Suddenly a new thought struck her. “Did my mother put you up to this?”
“Put me up to what?”
“Sending me to New York.”
“Georgie, come on … don’t be paranoid.”
“I’m not being paranoid. I know my mother. If she had gotten even an inkling about what happened in Burundi, I know she’d have been on the phone to you in an instant.”
“I haven’t talked to your mother. She knows nothing about this assignment.”
“You’re sure.” But even as she said it, she could see from Alex’s expression that he was telling her the truth.
She sank back in her chair, her shoulders slumping.
“Come on, Georgie. Cheer up. This assignment is going to be good for you. Good for all of us.” When she didn’t answer, Alex added softly, “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
It killed her to say it, but she finally said, “No.”
Alex started to say something else but quit because their waiter had brought their food. When he left them alone again, Georgie sighed and said, “You’re sure this assignment is only temporary?”
Alex raised his right hand. “I swear, this is absolutely temporary. And the more you can do to relieve Zach, the more time he’ll have to find a replacement for you.” Then came the kicker. “If you do this for me, Georgie, I’ll owe you.”
Georgie wished she could say no. She knew if she adamantly refused to go to New York, Alex wouldn’t force her. But how could she? Alex was her boss and her friend. He’d never before asked for a favor. And she owed him big time, even though he was too nice to remind her of that fact.
“Oh, all right, Alex. You win.” She picked up her chopsticks. “How soon do you want me to be there?”
Cornelia’s cell phone vibrated from the depths of her handbag as she walked toward the south entrance of Nordstrom. She managed to find the phone before the call went to voice mail and saw from the display that it was Harry calling. She felt like ignoring the call, but a mixture of curiosity and the certain knowledge that Harry Hunt, accustomed as he was to people leaping when he said, “Jump,” would just keep trying until she answered trumped her desire to continue making a statement by avoiding him.
Sighing, she pressed the talk icon. “Hello, Harry.”
“Corny, I’m glad I caught you.”
“Yes, well, I’m just on my way into Nordstrom.” She kept her voice deliberately cool.
“Then I won’t keep you long. I just wondered if my favorite gal in the entire world would do me the honor of accompanying me to a dinner next Saturday night.”
Cornelia could have said a lot of things in response to his “favorite gal” comment, but she decided it was wiser not to. Why open that can of worms? Especially when nothing ever changed. “What kind of dinner?” she hedged.
“Oh, I’m getting some award from the Software Society of America. The dinner’s being held at the Fairmont, and you know how I hate these black-tie things. But it’d be bearable if you’d come with me.” He chuckled. “Make that rubber chicken go down a lot easier.”
I should say no. I should say I’m tired of being an also-ran with you. I should say go find yourself another one of your models or actresses to take. I should say I already have a date.
But she didn’t think Harry knew about her fledgling relationship with Greg Berger, the golf pro at the club, and Cornelia wasn’t sure she wanted him to know. She could just imagine what he’d have to say about her dating a much younger man. Of course, every single one of Harry’s four wives had been considerably younger than him. But that was different, wasn’t it? Cornelia gritted her teeth. Just thinking about Harry’s former wives and the double standard about age stiffened her resolve. “I don’t think I can, Harry.”
“Don’t think you can?”
“I believe I have another engagement.” Despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to outright lie to him. “I’ll have to check my calendar after I get home.”
“If you have another engagement, break it. I really want you to be with me at that dinner, Corny.”
“I—” Where’s your backbone? Just say no.
“Please, Corny. I haven’t seen nearly enough of you lately.”
“And whose fault is that?” she retorted before she could stop herself.
“I realize it is my fault, but I’m trying to rectify that. C’mon, say you’ll go. I really want to see you.”
Cornelia could feel herself weakening, and it infuriated her. Why did she find it so hard to refuse him? He was entirely too sure of himself. Break it, indeed! And yet, despite all this, she sighed and said, “Oh, all right, Harry. I’ll go with you.”
“That’s my girl. We’ll pick you up at seven.”
Cornelia shook her head as she disconnected the call. She was spineless. Yet she couldn’t help remembering a night long ago when she had said no to Harry. And who knows