High-Society Bachelor. Krista Thoren

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СКАЧАТЬ Cameron Lyle should be careful, because an even less sophisticated woman than she was might think he’d been flirting with her just now. Which of course he hadn’t been. After all, this was the man who drove a sleek, expensive car and had recently made Indianapolis Living’s “Most Eligible Bachelors” list. Not that she read columns like those, but from the moment she’d moved into the apartment directly over his large office, she’d gotten an earful from several interested parties in Tulip Tree Square, all of them female.

      So she knew enough about Cameron Lyle’s love life to realize that she was the total opposite of the women he dated. They were all sophisticated and impeccably stylish. Probably petite, too, and ultrafeminine.

      All things she would never be. Things she would never want to be.

      Deborah got up from her chair. “So that’s the situation. A bit of a mess, I know, but it’s only temporary. I apologize for any inconvenience…” She let her sentence trail off because it sounded uncomfortably like a renovation notice in a department store.

      His dark head tilted. “I accept your apology, but that’s not the main reason I came to talk to you.”

      “It isn’t?” How could they have anything else to talk about? They had nothing in common. He spent his days in stiff business suits doing boring paperwork while she spent hers in comfy leggings planning cheerful kids’ parties. In the evenings he ate elegant catered meals and escorted beautiful women to social engagements while she ate frozen dinners and read.

      Lengthy, deep conversations between the two of them were not even a remote possibility.

      “I want to hire you,” he said.

      Deborah stared. For a moment, that was all she could do, because although a variety of thoughts leaped into her head every time she saw the handsome and remote Mr. Lyle, none of those thoughts had anything to do with dinosaur birthday cakes, pizza parties or clowns.

      He had to be kidding.

      On the other hand, he looked serious, like someone ready to talk business. And it wasn’t entirely impossible that he could need her company’s services.

      Even confirmed bachelors had nieces and nephews.

      Deborah cleared her throat. “You want to hire me? To organize a party?”

      “Yes.”

      She considered the idea, turning it around in her mind with the caution of someone tasting a food of unknown character. The difference was that in this case, she had enough knowledge to make her suspect that planning a party for Cameron Lyle would be a mistake. Accepting him as a client was a risk she shouldn’t take. After all, sooner or later she’d have to say something to him. Then he’d give her one of those brusque, stuck-up, disapproving replies, and she would tell him to go soak his haughty head, and then—

      “Will you do it?” he asked, saving her imagination any more work.

      She opened her mouth to say “no” and then remembered that Libby’s vet bill was due in less than two weeks. “Maybe. I’d need some details first.” Deborah snagged a pen and some paper from the coffee table and gave him her best businesslike voice. “How old are the children?”

      He frowned. “The children? There aren’t—”

      “Age group is the biggest factor, you know. It determines everything, from food to games. After all, we can’t have twelve-year-olds playing pin the tail on the donkey, can we?” Mentally Deborah winced. She sounded like a geriatric nurse. And one look at his face told her he was completely lost.

      “Is there a wide age range?” she asked. Actually, that was only a minor problem, but many clients were stumped by it.

      He chuckled, and Deborah stared. She hadn’t been positive the guy ever laughed, and she would never have guessed he could produce such an attractive sound. Deep, rich and melodic, it made her want to join in, even though she had no idea what was funny.

      “Very wide,” he agreed. “But I’m not hiring you for a kids’ party.”

      Deborah frowned. “You’re not? But that’s what I do. Well, except for a few weddings—” She drew in a sharp breath and almost choked. “You’re hiring me to plan your wedding reception?”

      Good grief, no one on the block was going to believe this. She couldn’t believe it herself, after all the what-a-hunk-but-he’s-allergic-to-marriage sighing and sobbing she’d heard since she moved in. Just how everyone knew, or thought they knew, that he’d never marry was a mystery to her. Had he taken out a billboard ad?

      More to the point, how had he sneaked a fiancée past the grapevine groupies?

      “No, no,” Cameron Lyle said, with a haste that made her want to laugh. “No reception. No wedding. I’m not getting married.” He looked horrified, as if they were discussing a fatal disease.

      Deborah felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. Besides amusement, there was relief, pure and simple. With the exception of one last booking in March, and her own wedding, sometime in the distant future when she was very, very positive that her fiancé wasn’t going to jilt her, she hoped to plan no more weddings as long as she lived.

      “Fine, you’re not getting married,” she agreed. “And you’re not having a kids’ party. So what kind of event are we talking about?”

      “A dinner party. A dinner dance, in fact. January thirtieth, seven-thirty. Sixty people, mostly business acquaintances.” He ticked off the details with the air of someone who knew what he was doing and was never indecisive. “Something simple but elegant. Hors d’oeuvre, buffet service, dessert trays. Modern but conservative décor, probably silver and burgundy.”

      Deborah blinked. “And you want me to plan the event?” Assuming there was any planning left to be done.

      “Right. Is there a problem with that?” he asked.

      She thought about it. “Probably not.” He had just handed her a golden opportunity, because this party sounded like exactly the type of event she wanted to specialize in. And since she’d been trying, so far unsuccessfully, to take her business in that direction, she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Still…

      “Why?” Deborah asked, unable to stop herself. “Why are you asking me, I mean?”

      For a second he looked like he was going to say something, but then he raised a brow instead. “Why shouldn’t I?”

      She could think of several reasons. Every time they met she got the impression he thought she was too talkative, too casual, too flippant, too unsophisticated and a whole lot of other toos. Of course, she herself knew that wasn’t true, but then she wasn’t him—a certified Type A personality who took himself and life way too seriously. Compared to him, she was downright frivolous.

      “You don’t know my work,” Deborah pointed out. “For all you know, my event décor features plastic fruit, fringed table cloths and doilies.”

      “You don’t seem like the doily type,” he said. “In any case, I’ll have final approval over everything.”

      Not exactly a strong vote of confidence. But it didn’t matter. She really couldn’t afford to turn down this opportunity.

      “Okay, СКАЧАТЬ