Valentine's Dream: Love Changes EverythingSweet SensationMade in Heaven Page 17
Neesie surged to her feet and began to peruse the bookshelves that covered three walls in the masculine room.
“I’ve made my latest and maybe my last acquisition as CEO. I purchased a small struggling candy company in Atlanta. You’ve heard of them, Langone’s. They used to own the market on holiday candy.”
“Congratulations.” Craig listened with half an ear as he watched Neesie from the corner of his eye. She was making her way toward the door. He rose, catching his boss by surprise.
“Mr. Stadler,” Neesie said. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to make a phone call. Is there someplace I won’t disturb you?”
Stadler rose, too, looking at Craig with an odd expression on his wrinkled face. “Of course. My wife has an office at the top of the staircase on the left. You can make yourself comfortable in there.”
“Neesie—” Craig started toward her.
Her blank look stopped him. “Please, finish talking. I’ll be back soon.”
Frustrated, Craig watched her go, sunglasses piercing her dark hair, notebook attached to her arm and the saddest expression he’d ever seen on her face.
Trapped into listening to his boss, he sat down wishing Neesie would come back, and that they could go back to the time before this afternoon when everything was okay.
“You’re smitten, aren’t you, young man?”
Craig’s head snapped back and he squared his shoulders. “Ms. Claiborne and I have a good professional relationship. You don’t have to worry about the fund-raiser not going as planned.”
Donald Stadler’s eyes bore into him. He shifted in his seat. “I know about my grandson, Craig. Word got back to me about his affair with the first coordinator, the staff quitting and plenty of other things.”
“Then why did you let it get so far out of hand?” Boldly, he stared at the man who held his life in his hands. “You could have confronted your grandson a long time ago and saved people a lot of grief. Why did you let his behavior go?”
Stadler wiped a hand over his aged face. “I wanted Waymon to change. Despite his ways, he’s increased sales for this company twofold in the last two years. He lost his father a long time ago and although he blames me for that, Waymon has admirable qualities. I blame myself for his father’s untimely death. He wasn’t a good businessman and I didn’t take the time to nurture him. I took Waymon under my wing so Stadler Candy Company would stay in the family. I suppose he developed my killer instinct. But you have nothing to fear, Craig. I recognize your hard work and you’ll get your reward.”
That wasn’t enough. As soon as Mr. Stadler retired, Waymon would be after him all over again. The cycle would end with Craig losing his job. He knew that now.
“What about Waymon? Is the company his reward?”
Craig looked at the man who’d always been fair and had promoted him on merit and not just to fill an affirmative action slot.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’ve made other arrangements. But Stadler will stay in the family.”
Craig nodded his head and shook his boss’s hand. Perhaps for the last time.
Chapter 11
Black tails and a bow tie.
Craig looked at the outfit that had been selected for him by Neesie’s sister and knew this event would go down in history as the biggest success Stadler’s and Avery had ever seen.
Neesie had outdone herself.
Responses had poured in, the press would be in attendance and many people from Atlanta society had been calling, wanting to be part of the Stadler fund-raiser.
Upstairs in one of the many extra bedrooms in the Stadler mansion, he adjusted the cummerbund and wondered how Neesie was doing.
They’d hardly seen each other for the last ten days leading up to today. And when they had, they were never alone. Today staff was everywhere. She seemed to have pulled people from the woodwork.
There were workers to break down the tables after the dinner in order to make room for dancing, waiters and waitresses—all costumed in period attire, and more cooks than he’d ever seen.
The lighting company she’d hired all seemed to know her by first name, and she even knew the people from the rental company that had delivered the betting tables.
Bartenders set up the bar, while cigarette girls had filled their trays with tobacco products, gum and gold coins. A load of boxes had been delivered early that morning, but she’d barred him from entering the room known to the staff as base.
The event would be a success, he knew.
But what about them?
He’d wanted her physically. And when desire had burned down and he could think again, he wanted her mentally. To talk to. To laugh with. And, yes, to make love to. Craig gave his reflection a grim smile. What was happening to him?
The two-way radio she’d given him and three other hostesses crackled.
“Craig, this is base. Come in.”
He picked up the radio and pushed the talk button. “Craig in.”
“Craig, I have to get dressed. Can you come down and keep an eye out for the valet parkers? They were supposed to be here an hour ago. I hope I don’t have to park cars tonight, too.”
Relief hit him in the gut. This was the Neesie he knew. Her sense of humor had returned and she needed him.
“I’m on my way.”
Checking for his wallet, Craig took one last glimpse at himself. In a couple of hours I’ll be a vice president. He waited for the thrill to hit him. When it didn’t, he walked slowly from the room.
* * *
Oh, my goodness. He was beautiful.
Neesie watched Craig descend the staircase, the black tuxedo hugging his tall frame, tails flapping lightly behind him. Her feet propelled her toward him.
“You look good.”
“Thank you.”
His dark eyes studied her and she wished again that she held a place in his heart.
Neesie pushed the thought away and did what her pride told her. She smiled up at him. “Tonight’s the big night.”
“For both of us.”
Hope surged inside her, but she realized he was talking professionally. She pasted on a polite smile.
“I guess it is. Look, uh, before we get mobbed, I just want to say thank you for giving me the opportunity to handle this affair. And—”
He tipped her chin up, took the last step down and touched his lips to hers. “You’re welcome.”
“Craig, I had no right to change the direction of our relationship. I hope we can still be—”
“Host one calling Neesie. Come in.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and without taking her gaze from his, unhooked the radio from the waistband of her jeans.
“Friends,” she whispered.
“You mean the—” Craig began.
“Neesie! It’s an emergency. Come in!”
Her eyes slid shut and she raised the radio to her mouth. “What’s that matter, over.”
“We’ve got a situation in the kitchen. The portable icemaker is dumping ice onto the floor. Do you copy?”
“On the way. Out.”
Backing away, she headed toward the kitchen before he spoke up.
“I’ll handle that, Neesie. You go change.”
“Craig, I’ve got it.”
“No.” He walked toward her, touching her arms. “I’ve got it under control.” He looked into her eyes and Neesie’s heart broke all over again. “You go change and...save a dance for me.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.”
* * *
The house had filled with guests by six o’clock and the Stadler’s Valentine’s Day fund-raiser was in full swing.
As the night wore on, Craig saw Neesie only in brief glimpses, but he had seen enough to know she was gorgeous. The dress she wore was a spectacular replica of the dress Lena Horn had worn in Stormy Weather and Neesie did it justice. Her hair had been styled by his cousin, Jason, who was in attendance with his wife.
Dinner had gone off without a hitch, and now everyone ha
d migrated to the Vanderbilt room to do a bit of gambling. The gold coins were a huge success and more than anything, Donald Stadler appeared happy.
Craig couldn’t echo his boss’s sentiment. He wasn’t happy. He’d been in constant turmoil since he’d met Neesie.
He exited the room, deciding to get a drink of Old Log Cabin whiskey when Waymon stopped him in the hallway.
“Looks like you did it.” His sneering voice made Craig wish they were back in college so he could punch his ex-friend in the face.
“Despite you.” Looking at the man he once considered a friend, he wondered as to the road ahead if Waymon ever assumed the helm. It didn’t look good.
“To spite me it seems.”
“You’re not important here, Waymon. This isn’t about your vendetta against your grandfather. It’s about helping children. But you wouldn’t know about that. You’re only interested in helping yourself.”
The bulging veins in his forehead contrasted sharply against his pale skin. “Ain’t no other way, right, bro?”
“I’m not your brother. You know where you can kiss, Waymon.” Craig shouldered past him.
Waymon laughed, taking the shouldering in stride. “I know how you met that impossible budget. I always liked that about you, Craig. You think fast on your feet and always come out ahead.”
Waymon’s words set off warning bells and Craig stopped. “You’re drunk.”
“Right again. How did you get her to decline her commission?” Waymon poked him in the chest with his elbows, then grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “You nailed her to save your job, didn’t you?”
A shiver of pleasure coursed up Craig’s arm when he wrapped his fingers around Waymon’s neck and shoved him against the wall.
“You’re crazy.”
A couple drifted into the hall and watched the two men in the awkward embrace. Craig shoved, then released him. “I won’t take this crap from you. You can shove this job.”
“Why?” Waymon regarded him with a seriousness Craig thought impossible in his state of inebriation. “My grandfather made me president of a white elephant in Atlanta. I have to ‘prove’ myself before I get the prize. You win for now. I’ll turn that company around, Craig, just to get back at you.”
“See, we’re more alike than you think, friend.” Liquor had slowed his movements, but Waymon still tried to get in a lucky punch to Craig’s jaw.
Easily deflecting it, Craig took great pleasure landing a punch right to Waymon’s chin, knocking him down. He groaned as Craig lifted him up and helped him into his grandfather’s library.
Back in the hall, Craig shook his throbbing hand, adjusted his cuffs and went in search of Neesie.
The dining room had been converted into a dance hall and Neesie was proud of the effect. She’d taken one of the dance scene themes from Stormy Weather and had the band in the front of the room playing instruments. Bright lights cast a glow over the waxed floor as couples jitterbugged around the room.
Neesie glanced at her watch and wished she could find Craig. She wanted him to witness the finale. The clock struck eleven and she heard the shouts and pops of gunfire.
Guests were rounded up and corralled back into the dance hall as Mr. Stadler was escorted up front and given a loot bag. The guests had been given special envelopes for their donations and Stadler along with gangster guards armed with fake Tommy guns collected all the money.
The room erupted in applause as people rushed forward brandishing more checks.
An arm circled her waist and Neesie turned to find herself in Craig’s arms. “You missed the surprise finale. Look at that.”
Her eyes filled as people dropped money into the loot bag until it was overflowing.
One of the gangsters gave Stadler another bag. That one began to fill and the thunder of applause swelled.
“Craig, we did it.”
“No, you did it. Neesie?” Her eyes fixed on him and his heart expanded.
“Yes?”
“Did you turn down your commission so we could pull this off?”
She averted her gaze. “Money stopped being important a long time ago. I’ve gained more than money could ever buy.”
He ducked his head to kiss her and caught her lips for a brief second. When she didn’t pull away, he extended it, having missed her taste so much.
Finally they broke apart, breathless and hungry for each other.
“You’re amazing. I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a long time. I just hope it’s not too late.”
“It’s never too late.” She stepped out of his arms. “Just not now. Stadler’s calling you.” She wiped her lipstick from his lips. “Go.” She pushed him forward. “Go.”
He couldn’t take another step without knowing. “Will you be waiting?”
She swallowed tears. “Right here.”
Craig hurried forward and stood by his boss’s side.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to the man who made this all possible. Now don’t get any ideas about stealing him. He works for me. My new vice president of personnel, Craig DuPont.”
Neesie clapped with the rest of the crowd.
He was tall, dark, handsome and the love of her life.
Neesie closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. Her chest jerked with the hiccups, but she ignored them. This was Craig’s moment to shine.
He thanked the guests and made a joke about the loot they’d collected, then stood quietly for a moment.
“Mr. Stadler, I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t really make this happen. From the very beginning I fought the idea of—” he waved his arms “—this. But through one person’s eyes and her vision, I was able to see success comes in many ways. This vision belongs to a very special woman. Ms. Neesie Claiborne. Come up here, Neesie.”
Goose bumps covered Neesie’s arms as she clutched her radio and headed to the front.
“Valentine’s Day is perfect for expressing how I feel. This woman stole my heart and I know I can’t leave her here for the job you promised me in California.” He turned to his boss. “If we can’t work out a deal for me to handle the responsibility from here, I will be looking for another job real soon.”
Calls from around the room rang out for him to call on Monday and laughter filled the room.
“I’ll cut a deal with you. Don’t you worry. You’ve got the job,” Stadler said.
Craig smiled, took Neesie’s hand and handed the microphone to Mrs. Stadler.
“Neesie, will you marry me?”
Her body shook as tears trickled down her cheeks. She waited for a hiccup to pass and squeezed Craig’s hand.
“Ahuh...” she breathed.
He bent a little to look into her eyes. “You’ve got the hiccups?”
She nodded, her body rocking again.
“She’s got the hiccups,” he told the teary-eyed crowd of onlookers. The room erupted into oohs and laughter.
Craig gathered her in his arms and possessively kissed her. Her heart pounded, matching his. “Neesie. Marry me.”
The rocking in her diaphragm stopped and she could breathe again. His gaze, tender with love, rested on hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“What about all your lofty goals?”
“They’re not important if I don’t have you to share them with. I love you. Be my wife.”
The words were music to her ears. “Yes.”
Applause tore threw the room along with imitation gunfire and as their lips met, the band struck up a merry tune.
* * * * *
MADE IN HEAVEN
Felicia Mason
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 1
If she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, Val San
ders figured her nightmare would end.
It didn’t work.
He still sat there. The words still flowed from his mouth, the food still shoveled in at warp speed. Val absently wondered if a projectile of the prime rib he consumed would land on her blouse. She’d just gotten the blouse out of the dry cleaners.
“So I told the supplier there was no way I was going to let an inferior product in one of my warehouses. I told him to reload his little trailer and hit the road. That move cost me a pretty penny. I don’t mind telling you, Valerie, that he had close to one hundred thousand dollars worth of merchandise in that rig. But you know what? Turning that shipment away was the best thing that ever happened to me. I cleared three point five last year. I don’t have any stockholders. I don’t have any bad debts. After expenses and salaries to my people, it’s all profit.” He grinned at her. “I’m just looking for the right woman to share it with.”
This joker thought he was making all the right moves. He didn’t even get her name right. And what he probably hoped was a suave Billy Dee smile was more like a smirk, the effort spoiled by the bit of spinach stuck to his tooth. Val dabbed her mouth with the crisp linen napkin and hid the smile that threatened.
Val placed the napkin back in her lap and looked away for a moment, if only to get her quickly slipping composure together. She glanced at their dinner table in an attempt to identify the crumbs clinging to the right corner of his otherwise well-groomed mustache. Ah, the hard rolls.
Val didn’t like mustaches.
“There’s a matching Maserati in my garage and the vanity tags say HERS,” he continued. “My Nubian queen will ride in style. All she has to do is say yes.”
Not in this lifetime, Val thought.
She’d agreed to this date with Conroy T. Franklin IV. They’d been out once before. When he called about dinner, she’d said yes for one simple reason: she couldn’t believe that any man could be as obnoxious as he had been on their first date. Maybe she’d had a bad case of the flu that night. Her recollection of the evening may have been flawed. What she discovered tonight, however, was that her memory had been kind to the man.
Conroy had launched into an agonizingly detailed description of his vacation to the Middle East. “I bathed in the Euphrates and recited that wonderful poem by Maya Angelou.”