Navy Seal Bodyguard. Tawny Weber

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      “What about your job?”

      “I’m sure I can work it out,” Jessica said, flashing her most engaging smile. “Ready for your favorite matcha mocha latte?”

      Mia hesitated.

      Not over the latte. That, she wanted.

      It was a favor she wasn’t so sure of.

      “I appreciate the offer...”

      “I’ll take care of any research, handle vendors, pay the bills and organize your database,” Jessica assured her, starting to work on her caffeine creations.

      As the scent of coffee filled the air, Mia pictured Jessica’s room, with clothes thrown over furniture, a vanity table splotched with spilled makeup and shoes dumped in piles in the closet. And the papers. Papers were stacked, piled, spread and wadded everywhere.

      Mia placed a protective hand on the files next to her.

      “I appreciate the offer. I really do. But that’s not really—”

      “I’ll even handle finding someone to help you at events to replace that gal. What was her name? The one who kept breaking things? Your computer, that case of glassware, her leg.”

      “Bree was my coordination assistant,” Mia murmured. “And she was just a little accident-prone.”

      “Right. Coordination assistant. I’ll find you one.” Jessica began pouring ingredients into the blender. “You won’t have to worry about anything.”

      “But—”

      “I know how you are about taking help with the business end of things, but I promise, I know what I’m doing,” Jessica said, setting two tall glass mugs on the table, each frothed high with whipped cream and a delicate layer of almond dust. “It’s not like I’d screw things up for you.”

      “Of course I don’t think that,” Mia denied half-heartedly, wrapping both hands around the mug to inhale the rich blend of scents to buy a few seconds. “But I’ve already put a call into Karen Lawson. She coordinates volunteers for a number of charities. I’ve worked with her before and am sure she’ll be sending someone my way soon.”

      “Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. You don’t want to depend on a maybe,” Jessica said, reaching into a slender pocket in her silk suit to pull out a business card. She set it on the table amidst Mia’s piles of folders and stacks of files, and using one pink nail, pushed it forward. “Not when you’re going to be really busy since I just snagged you a dream event.”

      “A dream event?” Curious, Mia lifted the card.

      Unsurprised, she read the name Santiago Alcosta, embossed in glossy black ink on heavy white card stock, with the entire card framed by a slender gold line. Elegant, understated decadence, she decided. That’d be the theme she’d pitch to go with these cards.

      “Tell me more about this dream event,” she invited, wondering how to parlay what was probably a corporate luncheon into a chance to personally invite Alcosta to the Forever Families gala.

      “I showed one of your fund-raiser pitches to my boss this morning, and Señor Alcosta is not only excited—he’s ready to rock and roll. There are some conditions,” Jessica continued before Mia could ask how she’d gotten her hands on one of Mia’s fund-raiser pitches. “You know, I told you how picky he can be. Lunch at twelve-twelve every day. At every meeting, people have to be seated in alphabetical order. The scent of the flowers can never overpower the scent of the food. That kind of thing. I’m not kidding when I say that Alcosta is seriously particular.”

      Mia flipped the page of her notebook to write that all down.

      “What are you doing?”

      Mia glanced up.

      “Making notes for the event. A luncheon?”

      “Luncheon?” Jessica laughed. “Oh, no. Bigger than that. He wants to build a new children’s hospital in Mexico City and he wants you to handle a series of events to raise the funds.”

      “A series of...”

      “Yeah, a whole bunch of events. Like a half dozen whatever it takes to raise twenty million. I think that’s what he’s estimating it’ll take to get started.”

      Twenty-million worth of events? Holy bananas.

      So many thoughts bounced through Mia’s brain. Images of all the children who’d be helped by a new hospital. The thought of the benefits of health care for thousands. And, hoo baby, multiple events, wow, the benefits to her business. If Mia had a contract like that, after Lorraine Perkins was done doing backflips, she’d hand over the Winter Ball on a golden platter. Carte blanche. No nagging, no micromanaging, no peering over Mia’s shoulder, no deep sighs over preferring to keep the job in-house.

      “What does he need? I should meet with him. Do I call him directly, or is that something I set up with you?” Mia flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “Do you know if he has preferences already in place? Is he open to suggestions? Will you handle carrying through the arrangements once the plans are made, or will that be my responsibility? Knowing that ahead of time will help with my bid.”

      “Bid?” Jessica waved that away with a flick of her baby-doll-pink fingernails. “You don’t have to bid, Mia. The job is already yours.”

      “Mine? Just like that?”

      “Oh, but he’s not looking at any other event planners. The job’s yours if you want it. I mean, you’ll have to create an outline of your plans for Alcosta’s approval, of course, and adhere to his wishes and rules. And there is a wee little time crunch involved. But after the way I’ve talked you up, I’m sure you’ll get the contract.”

      Oh. My.

      Mia bit back the urge to get up and dance.

      Twenty million. A children’s hospital. A half dozen events. All hers.

      While Jessica organized her files.

      Mia’s urge to dance froze.

      Before she could voice her concerns, Jessica made a show of grimacing.

      “Um, look. It’s no big deal,” Jessica said, her tone making it clear that it was actually a huge deal. “But I sort of put myself on the line here. You know, promised all sorts of great things about your work. That you’d take the job. That you’d do fabulous. That you were the best in the business. Stuff like that. So I’m counting on you. I’d hate for Alcosta to start thinking he can’t trust my judgment.”

      Mia blinked, the weight of Jessica’s words coating her doubts with a hefty layer of guilt.

      “I’ll get a hold of Alcosta and let him know how excited you are.” Jessica grabbed her cell phone and started typing. “You get a proposal together. I’ll set up the meeting. Just leave me a list of what you need done.”

      And with that, Mia was alone in the kitchen with her gorgeous view and the opportunity of a lifetime. Then she glanced down with a sigh at a nagging text from her mother.

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