Substitute Seduction. Cat Schield
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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