Valentine's Dream: Love Changes EverythingSweet SensationMade in Heaven Page 11

  He cleared his throat loudly and both turned to him. “We have to go.”

  Neesie’s gaze traveled over his face and her smile dimmed into a sexy pout. Her eyes danced as she allowed him to help her with her blazer and coat, then she reached for her black Coach purse.

  Smiling her thanks to Craig, she didn’t spare him a second glance.

  “How much do I owe you?” she said to Jason.

  “One hundred even.”

  Craig flashed Jason the eye and an imperceptible shake of his head. “You don’t owe me anything,” Jason said, narrowing his eyes over Neesie’s head. “My cousin and I occasionally do each other favors and it’s my turn to owe him. He’s going to hire my stepson this summer. Aren’t you, cuz?”

  Craig noticed that Neesie had to tip her head back to look up at him and Jason, but Craig knew he was stuck, too. His cousin’s son was a borderline juvenile delinquent. If working at Stadler’s would keep him out of trouble, it was the least he could do.

  “That’s right. Come on,” he said, looking down at Neesie, trying to recall their professional relationship. “We’ve got just about an hour to make it back to Avery.”

  Neesie’s small hand on his sleeve stopped him. Her touch lit fire to his blood and it rushed hot and heavy through his veins.

  “I appreciate what you guys are doing, but I pay for my own hairdos.” She withdrew her checkbook and began writing. “But I don’t get the door for myself when I’m with a man. I don’t pay for dinners out. But out of fairness, I’ll make a nice homecooked meal. And, I keep my promises.”

  She handed the receptionist the check, looked at Craig—and he wanted to kiss her.

  So much for professionalism.

  Jason’s powerful hand shook Craig’s shoulder bringing him out of his trancelike state as he guided them both to the door of the shop.

  “See you two soon.”

  Craig shook Jason’s hand and he and Neesie were swept outside into the cold January air.

  Neesie kept up with his long stride as they made their way to his Acura and smiled for the first time that day as he held the door for her.

  “You look great,” Craig said after easing them into the flow of traffic.

  “Jason’s a miracle worker.”

  “He started with a work of art.”

  Neesie’s eyes widened and her cheeks took on a red tinge. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

  “Sweet?” What was he doing? He was always teaching seminars about sexual harassment and here he was overcomplimenting a coworker. “I didn’t mean that in an unprofessional way. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  Her friendly smile relaxed his stiff posture. “Relax. I like a sincere compliment. Will we make it back in time?”

  He glanced at his watch and nodded. “I brought along brochures of our products. Let’s plan a strategy meeting for later today. I can pass along all the pertinent information then.”

  “Great.” She pulled the brochures onto her lap, and regarded him until he glanced at her. “Thank you for everything. You won’t be disappointed.”

  Craig prayed he could believe her.

  Chapter 4

  Neesie exhaled a pent-up breath as soon as she exited Donald Stadler’s office with Craig. Stadler had approved of her!

  He was crotchety and old, but forthright. Just like the people she valued most in life. Her mother and father still didn’t value her penchant for scarred furniture, her passion for flea markets or her weakness—collecting antique water pitchers. But they did express their love by encouraging her differences.

  Though her mother still couldn’t help slipping her a Modern Decorating magazine occasionally.

  Neesie tolerated it, but she knew where she got her eclectic taste. She was her grandmother’s child.

  She and Gran could spend hours talking about the good old days. And they often did, looking at photo albums and old reel-to-reel black-and-white film of her grandmother when she was younger.

  Neesie had been in her element with Stadler as he’d taken them on a side trip down the rugged road of his past and revisited his heydays during the roaring twenties.

  Yet, despite his advanced age, Donald Stadler was still an astute businessman. He made it clear in his grandson’s absence he was in charge. He also demanded she present him with an idea for the Valentine’s fund-raiser by the end of the week, and she’d promised to give him her best.

  Now she had to think of something.

  Neesie’s steps matched Craig’s as they turned the corner and proceeded down the long hall to his office. Employees milled around them in various stages of work, but he looked neither right nor left as he strode forward.

  “I’ve got several ideas in mind,” Neesie said, breaking the silence between them. “I can present a proposal to you early Friday and still be ready to meet Mr. Stadler whenever he has a free moment.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  Neesie entered Craig’s spacious office and took in her surroundings. A plain desk stood in the center of the room, along with the standard office fare. Two guest chairs and a potted plant. Even the pastel gray picture of a sailboat hanging on the wall was typical.

  Craig closed the door to the office and headed past her to sit behind his desk. Dark eyes assessed her. “Please sit down.”

  She sat.

  “You don’t have to come up with any ideas,” he said matter-of-factly. “I kept notes from meetings I’d had with the last coordinator, Ms. Southerland, and we can simply pick up where she left off.”

  Neesie smiled and crossed her legs. Boy, was he going to be in for a surprise. He extended the folder toward her. His eyebrow lifted when she didn’t reach for it. “I won’t need Nevana’s notes.”

  “Why not, Ms. Claiborne?”

  “Call me Neesie. Everybody does.” He nodded, laid the folder down and she continued. “Because with a new coordinator comes a new event. From talking with Mr. Stadler, who by the way is wonderful, this idea popped into my head—”

  Craig’s shaking head and raised hand silenced her. Oh brother. Here we go. She already knew what he was going to say before he said it.

  “We do ‘conventional’ here at Stadler’s. Nothing extravagant. Nothing outrageous. I thought we understood each other?” He lifted the folder again, extending it toward her.

  “We do, but, Craig, I do extravagant so well. This idea is unique.”

  “Like your house, I suppose?” His husky voice was almost a caress.

  Instead of being offended, Neesie laughed. “Yes. My house is the best expression of myself. Did you like it?” she asked softly.

  His creased forehead demonstrated the level of consideration he was giving this matter and she began to laugh. “Spit it out. You can’t hurt my feelings.”

  How she wished that was true. Craig DuPont could seriously trample her sensitive feelings and it wouldn’t have anything to do with the house. It would have something to do with the part of her that connected with the air of confidence that surrounded him, his desire to succeed and even protect what was his.

  He’d helped her keep this job, and she was indebted to him. This fund-raiser had to be spectacular and everyone would know he’d been part of it. She would make sure of that.

  Neesie wasn’t sure he’d like the idea, but he’d come around. She hoped.

  “Your house is different,” he said, drawing her back from her musings. “Nice, in an eccentric way, I mean.” He stood and walked around the desk, the folder in his hands. Leaning against the desk, he took a quick glance at his watch and handed the folder to her.

  “Go over these ideas and let me know which one we’re going with. I’ve marked the ones I approve of. Get back to me Thursday with the confirmations on the hotel, caterer and band. That’s all.”

  Her eyes darted left and right. She’d just been dismissed. Neesie stood, laying the folder on his desk before heading toward the office door. “No.”

  “What do you mean ‘no’?”

 
; She gathered her coat and scarf from the coatrack.

  “Just exactly what it means. I plan my events. If you wanted to plan the fund-raiser you could have hired an intern to do the grunt work. So since that’s what you want and you’re unwilling to listen to my ideas, I can go home. Are you ready?”

  Instead of leaving, she regarded his shocked expression and wondered if she’d just gambled and lost. He looked at the folder then at her.

  “What don’t you understand, Craig?”

  “You’re contracted to do this job. I’ve simply made it easier by eliminating a lot of false starts. What’s the problem?”

  “First of all, the key phrase is that I’m contracted to do this job. And second, I like false starts. They demonstrate growth.” Her voice lowered and Neesie walked toward him. He needed to understand. “You’re doing the job for me. While that may work in corporate America, it doesn’t work for me. Why are you having a problem with listening to a good idea?”

  He laughed humorlessly and pushed the folder on the desk. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. I have a problem with bad ideas and wasting time.”

  “Mine are neither.”

  He straightened his Hugo Boss tie and stared straight at her.

  “What do you want to do? Have a carnival like Donald? Maybe even a party where adults crawl on the floor like children looking for candy. Ridiculous.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed, wondering if he’d ever done such a thing. She had at every one of her childhood parties and had a blast, too. “But don’t blame me. That was your idea.”

  He smiled at her then and she felt as if she’d been in the path of a meteor shower. Tiny prickles of heat suffused her and Neesie couldn’t wait to see how else Craig DuPont would affect her.

  “My ideas don’t include a boring sit-down, steak or chicken dinner with a boring speech from some bigwig with a big checkbook. This year will be different.”

  “We don’t want different, Neesie. Waymon Stadler wants the same as last year. He wants that boring speech as you put it, and he sure wants the money.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about.” She shrugged into her coat and waved a negligent hand at him. “Waymon wants one thing, but Donald Stadler, CEO, wants another. I’ll try to find a happy medium.” She smiled in the face of his concern. “When I’m done, you’ll be sorry you weren’t convinced all along.” She pulled her purse up on her shoulder.

  “Did you read the clause in your contract, Ms. Claiborne?”

  She recognized the change in him.

  “The one that said you, Craig DuPont, have final approval over my decisions?”

  “What about it?”

  He seemed so frustrated with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Attraction aside, Neesie knew where he was heading, and was more determined than ever to show him what she could do.

  “It means I have final approval.”

  “I’m comfortable with that. So, we’re on for dinner Thursday night?”

  He gazed at her for a long moment then walked behind his desk. “If we can’t come to a conclusion, I don’t think dinner would be advisable.”

  Twisting her scarf around her neck, Neesie bundled up until just the fringes of the scarf hung down her chest. “I think we should. I’ll have two ideas to show you Thursday at seven in order for you to present them to Mr. Stadler on Friday.”

  Craig palmed his forehead and looked at her. “I hope you’re as bad as you think you are.”

  “I’m good. I don’t have to convince myself.” She eyed the folder, then picked it up. “Can you take me home or should I call a cab? I have an event to plan.”

  * * *

  Craig sat behind his desk at work late Wednesday night and wondered why he hadn’t given the personnel reviews to his secretary to type. He was overprotective of his work but the promotion he’d worked so hard for was just months away.

  Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out the brochure of the condo he’d had his eye on ever since visiting the corporate office in San Diego last fall.

  The two-bedroom, two-bath condo was perfect for his personal needs. But his professional advancement was what he cared about most. He could sleep in a shack as long as he had responsibility and respect.

  Dialing Neesie Claiborne’s office number again, he listened to the message and wished she’d pick up.

  “Neesie, this is Craig DuPont again. I’ve left my number several times and need to hear from you.” He returned the phone to the cradle, stood and stacked papers together, hating that he needed anyone at this stage in his life. Would she come through? He tried to stop wondering as he prepared to go home.

  The clock on his desk gave a discreet beep at ten o’clock and he recalled the ten o’clock hour days ago with Neesie Claiborne.

  She’d looked a mess. Her hair had been all over her head not to mention the color.

  And her house. Strictly informal from what he’d seen with a lot going on.

  The phone rang, cutting off his thoughts and he picked it up.

  “DuPont.”

  “This is Neesie. What’s up?” she asked breathlessly. Jealousy hit him like liquid fire. Was she breathless from just returning from a date? Or was he disrupting a good-night kiss?

  “I don’t want to keep you from anything important.”

  Her sexy laugh fed his jealousy intravenously. “Ah, well,” she literally purred, watching her grandmother sneak another hotel onto the board game of Monopoly. “It’ll keep. What can I do for you?”

  “Uh, I was wondering how you were progressing and I also wanted to confirm that we’re still on for tomorrow.”

  This time she really laughed. Heat climbed his neck and Craig felt like an adolescent caught doing something stupid. Like spying on a girl he liked. Ludicrous, he thought.

  He snapped his mouth shut and wished he could hang up.

  “Why are you still at work?” The fact that she hadn’t answered him made him feel raw, exposed. He wanted to know what she was doing and it was obvious from her warm laugh and the sexy background music she was occupied.

  “I’m getting ready to leave.”

  “It’s ten o’clock.”

  “I can tell time.” Slowly he expelled a breath and for the first time that day, relaxed. Hanging up was the last thing he wanted to do. His apartment would be empty and quiet when he walked in. There wouldn’t be any music drifting around in the background and no laughter. Everybody in the surrounding apartments retired early. That was what he wanted. Right?

  “You’ve been leaving messages about the project. What’s your question?” Her words brought him back to the reason he’d been dialing her number.

  Craig sat down and leaned his elbow on the desk. “Uh...well, I was calling to offer my assistance. Do you uh...need my help?”

  “No, Mr. DuPont,” she said, humor lacing her voice. “I’m quite capable. I plan events for a living, remember?”

  She probably thinks I’m an idiot. He listened to her humorous tone and had to admit her husky voice was behind the unfocused thoughts that had been nudging at him all day.

  “I’ll let you get back to your evening.” His voice was crisp and loud in the quietness of his closed office.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, my place. Right?” she asked.

  Her voice was warm and casual as if he were someone she’d known for a long time.

  “Of course. I’m looking forward to hearing your presentation. Good night.”

  “Craig?”

  Her voice spilled out over his desk and he pulled the phone back to his ear. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for offering. I’ve been in this business two years and no one has ever offered to help. See you tomorrow at seven. Good night.”

  * * *

  “Who was that?”

  Returning to the game, Neesie grinned foolishly as she noticed that her grandmother had sneaked two hotels onto the board at New York and Indiana, and had added some illegal houses on Pennsylvania and Marvin Gardens. Two of her five h
undred dollar bills were missing, too.

  “Gr-a-n?” Warning laced Neesie’s voice.

  “What? It’s your turn. I was waitin’ for you to roll. I already moved my car. So who was the big shot on the phone?”

  Neesie moved from Connecticut to Community Chest and drew a card. “His name is Craig DuPont and he and I will be handling the Stadler account this year.”

  “I thought witchy Nevana had beat you out of that one?”

  The card’s instructions said to pay for each hotel or house she owned, but Neesie didn’t care. The money she used was from an old Monopoly game. With Gran, you had to play fire with fire. Gran took the money and rolled doubles.

  “She did beat me out. But she’s got mononucleosis.”

  “That’s that kissing disease, ain’t it?”

  Neesie nodded as Gran moved twelve spaces to Free Parking and snapped up all the money placed there from fines.

  “She’s been kissin’ a bunch of frogs, that’s how she got caught. Nevana was just like her grandmother. A loosey-goosey.”

  “Gran, I want to ask you something.”

  Her grandmother leaned forward in her wheelchair and snapped the dice across the board again. They scattered houses and hotels everywhere. When she thought Neesie wasn’t looking she moved extra spaces to Water Works: her property.

  “Hmm, baby?”

  Neesie picked up the dice and shook them absently in her palm.

  “What should I do? He wants me to do things straight by the book.” She crinkled her nose. “My ideas are better than anything Nevana could come up with. But he won’t listen.”

  Neesie rolled and moved to B&O Railroad. She paid the two hundred dollars from the illegal roll of money she kept nearby and handed it to her grandmother.

  “Make him listen. You can borrow my chair and I’ll lend you some straps to tie him down.” She laughed and hummed along with the music.

  “Gran, I’m not shackling him to your chair just to get him to listen to me.” The two shared a laugh and looked at the overcrowded board.

  “Nee-sie, use that imagination God gave you. Think of a way to make him stay put until you’ve told him everything you have to say. You got good genes. My genes. Make your ideas come to life and he’ll listen. I promise ya.”