Kitabı oku: «Meet Mr. Prince / Once a Cowboy...»

Meet Mr. Prince
Patricia Kay
Once A Cowboy …
Patricia Thayer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

I love Cinderella stories, don’t you? From the original story of Cinderella to all the ones that have come after it, they never fail to make me feel good and to put a smile on my face.

Meet Mr. Prince is a Cinderella story, even though Georgie Fairchild is the opposite of the unloved stepsister. Georgie has a fabulous family that includes three beloved sisters, a wonderful job that she loves and a life she considers perfect. She is not looking for Prince Charming. Yet when he comes along, all of Georgie’s ideas are turned upside down and her life changes dramatically.

I had a wonderful time writing this book because I loved Georgie from page one. I loved that she’s so stubborn and sure of herself, that she is so adamant about not wanting to get married or have children. Nothing is more fun than knowing a character is going to have to eat her words.

I hope you enjoy reading Georgie’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Happy reading!

Patricia Kay

Meet Mr. Prince

About the Author

PATRICIA KAY is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than forty-eight novels of contemporary romance and women’s fiction. She lives in Houston, Texas. To learn more about her, visit her website at www.patriciakay.com.

This book is dedicated to fellow authors Lois Faye Dyer, Christine Flynn and Allison Leigh. I have loved working with the three of you on this series and look forward to our next adventure together.

Chapter One

Georgianna Hunt Fairchild glared at her mother. “I can’t believe you said that.”

Cornelia Fairchild, as always, remained unruffled. “Darling Georgie. What I can’t believe is that I’ve somehow managed to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just tired of people trying to interfere in my personal life.”

“People? I’m hardly people.”

Georgie rolled her eyes. “When you start trying to fix me up with every Tom, Dick and Rupert out there, you’ve joined the ranks of people! How many times do I have to tell you and my sisters and Uncle Harry and Alex and every other person who might know my name that I am not interested in getting married. Period. End of story.”

Completely frustrated, Georgie jumped up and began pacing around her mother’s living room. “Do you know that the other day Joanna invited me to dinner, and when I got there, it wasn’t just her and Chick the way I thought it would be, but she’d invited Chick’s brother?”

Joanna Spinelli was Georgie’s former college roommate and her BFF. She was currently having a torrid romance with Chick London, her boss—big mistake, Georgie thought, mixing her work life with her personal life, as nothing good could come of it—and now she seemed to want everyone else to enter the same besotted state.

“What was so wrong with that?” Cornelia asked.

“Look, Chick’s brother is nice enough, but it was obvious that Joanna was trying to fix me up with him! Dammit, I don’t want to be fixed up with anyone, and she knows that.”

“Please don’t swear, Georgie. It’s very unladylike.”

“Sorry. But honestly, Joanna of all people should know better. And then Bobbie called and got on my case.” Bobbie was the youngest of the four Fairchild sisters, and she was practically still on her honeymoon and wild about her new husband. In fact, all of Georgie’s sisters seemed to be wildly in love … or lust, although they would say they had found their soul mates. Georgie had yet to be convinced that such a thing existed.

“Your sisters love you, Georgie,” her mother said softly. “And so does Joanna.”

“I know they do, Mom, but doesn’t that mean they should listen to me once in a while? I listen to them.” Georgie ignored the little voice of her conscience that said she didn’t always listen to them.

Cornelia shook her head sadly. “Oh, all right, Georgie, have it your own way. But just wait. One of these days you’ll be a forty-something woman with no husband, no children and no prospects. Then let’s see how you feel!

“Besides, I was not trying to fix you up,” she added. “Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson in that area. All I said was Josie Wilcox’s nephew is staying with her while he’s in Seattle on business and he’s at loose ends, and from what she’s said about him, he sounds as if you two might have a lot in common.”

“You know, Mom, first of all—no offense against you, but I barely know Josie Wilcox and from what I do know of her, I have no desire to meet her nephew. Second of all, I have a long way to go until I’m forty-something, considering I’ve just barely turned thirty. And last of all, don’t you remember what that survey showed? The one where they interviewed married men, single men, married women and single women?”

Her mother said nothing, simply picked up her mug of tea and sipped. Her thoughtful eyes studied Georgie over the rim of the cup.

“Well, I do,” Georgie said. “That survey found—and I believe it—that the happiest people are, number one, married men, and, number two, single women. And the unhappiest people are married women!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Georgie. Anyone can prove anything with a survey. Everyone knows that surveys are skewed by all kinds of things. Why, I know any number of happily married women.”

Georgie sighed. “I don’t want to argue with you. Try to understand, okay? I’m happy the way I am. Unlike your other daughters, I really don’t want to get married. I mean, what’s the point if you don’t want children? I know that just goes against everything you believe, but I’m being honest with myself, and I don’t think I’m cut out to be a mother. Can’t you respect that?”

Her mother glanced out the windows of her recently renovated porch, which was now a sunroom and extension of the living room. Georgie’s gaze followed. The view of Puget Sound from the family’s hilltop home in Queen Anne—one of Georgie’s favorite areas of Seattle—was a sight she had never tired of. Today could have been a day in high summer instead of January: The sun was shining and the water sparkled as if dusted by thousands of diamonds. Maybe one day she, too, would have a home like this, but Georgie intended to pay for every last brick with money she earned. Instead of sublimating her goals for a husband’s. Instead of spending her days ferrying spoiled and overindulged kids to soccer games and skating lessons. Instead of her giving up her independence and freedom. She was sorry if her decisions had made her mother unhappy, but this was her life, not her mother’s!

Cornelia took her time before answering. “If I thought you wouldn’t deeply regret this decision one day, I would respect it, Georgie. But darling, I just don’t think you understand how you’ll feel when you’re older and your childbearing days are over.” Turning back to Georgie, her green eyes—the same color as Georgie’s—were filled with love. “I’ve seen it all too often. Think about your cousin Sophie.”

Sophie Fairchild Jamison was the only daughter of Georgie’s father’s older brother Franklin. Sophie had married late and had desperately been trying to have a child the past few years, with no success.

“I’m not Sophie. I have a demanding job I love, a wonderful family and tons of friends, and if I ever feel the need for a child of my own, I’ll adopt. God knows there are millions of children all over the world who desperately need someone to love them.” Georgie had seen too many of them in her work for the Hunt Foundation. Many nights her dreams were haunted by their sad eyes.

“Yes, I know. But you could do that, too, you know.” Now it was Cornelia’s turn to sigh. “All right, Georgie. I’ll quit ‘bugging’ you, as you’ve so inelegantly expressed it. And I’ll just pray you won’t regret this decision some day.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Now that she’d won her point, Georgie could afford to be magnanimous. She walked to her mother’s chair and knelt before her. “You know I love you, don’t you? And that I’m grateful for everything you’ve sacrificed for us? We can agree to disagree about this one thing, can’t we?”

Her mother smiled. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I won’t continue to worry about you.”

Georgie raised herself up and kissed her mother’s still-smooth cheek. “I know. I guess I can’t ask for miracles.” Then she grinned. “Although if anyone can accomplish miracles, it’s you.”

“Look who’s talking, Miss I-Finished-College-in-Three-Years-and-Got-My-Master’s-in-Less-than-Two.’”

Although Georgie had never had problems with self-confidence, sometimes her mother’s praise and her sisters’ admiration made her uncomfortable. She was not exceptional or brilliant, and she kept trying to tell them so. She just knew what she wanted, she worked hard and she didn’t waste her time. If she made a bad decision, the moment she realized it was bad, she rectified it. Her sisters were all hard workers, too, but some of them lacked confidence and hesitated before making changes. It was a mystery to Georgie that the four them, so close in age, all born to the very same mother and father, could be so different.

Take Tommi, for instance. The only place she seemed to feel completely sure of herself was in the kitchen.

“So what’s on your agenda now?” her mother asked. “Has Alex made any decision about where you’ll go next?”

Georgie shook her head. “God, I hope so. We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow. Aside from anything else, it’ll be nice to see him again.”

Her mother frowned. “I thought you were working at Alex’s office the past couple of weeks while waiting for a new assignment.”

“Not at the office. I’m doing research for him at home. But I’ll sure be glad to get back into the field. I like research, but not that much.”

Despite this minor complaint, Georgie loved her job, loved that Alex allowed her to have a say in what she did and where she did it. Since coming to work for him at the Hunt Foundation nineteen months earlier, Georgie had been happier than she’d ever been in her entire life.

Alex was a dream boss. One of the things about him she liked most was that he treated all his employees with consideration and respect. P.J., his wife, was one lucky woman. In fact, if Georgie ever found a man like Alex, she might even change her mind about getting married.

“What’re you smiling about?” her mother asked.

Georgie started. She’d forgotten her mother was sitting there. Not a good idea. Her mother was too sharp. She had an uncanny ability to almost read a person’s mind, to the chagrin of all her daughters. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking how happy I’ll be to get busy again.”

Georgie had come home from the Sudan right before the Christmas holiday had begun and had now been on hiatus more than three weeks. She’d told Alex she didn’t need that much time off. After all, she had no husband, children or pets to worry about. And although she was the newly proud owner of a small, loft-type condo in near downtown Belltown, the maid service and condo maintenance she paid for took excellent care of her property when she was away.

“Well,” her mother said, “I hope, if he’s sending you out to the field again, he sends you somewhere peaceful this time. It worries me when you go into countries where there’s so much civil unrest.”

“You know Alex would never put me in danger.”

Cornelia raised her eyebrows. “Afghanistan is terribly dangerous. And so was Burundi. And even the Sudan.”

“I was never in danger in any of those places.” But Georgie mentally crossed her fingers, because she wasn’t telling her mother the entire truth. Sure, she’d been in supposedly protected zones in those countries, and in all cases she’d been accompanied by representatives from the UN, along with a security detail, but still … no one was ever completely safe surrounded by warring factions, and she’d had one or two close—and scary—calls.

Cornelia nodded, but Georgie knew she wasn’t convinced. Giving her mother another kiss, she said, “I’ve gotta run, Mom. I’m getting my hair trimmed. My appointment’s at three o’clock.”

“Phone me tomorrow?” her mother said as she walked Georgie to the door.

“Why? So you can call Alex and yell at him if you don’t like where he’s sending me next?” teased Georgie.

Her mother laughed. “Don’t think I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know you would.” And the worst part was, Alex would probably listen. Sometimes Georgie despaired of ever leading a totally independent life. But that’s what she got for taking a job with someone so closely intertwined with her family. Although she and Alex Hunt referred to each other as cousins, they were not really related. Their fathers had been best friends as kids, and as young men they’d co-founded a company that eventually became HuntCom.

Of course, the company’s huge success came years after George Fairchild’s death, so neither he nor Cornelia had benefitted financially the way Harry Hunt, Alex’s father, had. It wasn’t for lack of trying on Harry’s part, though. Harry Hunt wasn’t perfect, but he was nothing if not generous to the people he loved. And George Fairchild’s wife and daughters were high up on that list. Harry had tried everything he could think of to give Cornelia money, and she had thwarted every attempt. He had managed to gift each of her daughters with $100,000 upon their high-school graduation, along with an honorary seat on the HuntCom board. Furious, Cornelia had refused to talk to him for months afterward.

Cornelia was proud. She wasn’t willing to take money she didn’t feel she deserved, no matter how much she could have used the help at the time. And the same applied to her daughters.

Georgie admired her mother more than just about anyone. How many women would have had guts enough and strength enough to hold their heads high after finding out, after his death, that the husband they’d trusted had gambled away every bit of their life’s savings, including their stock in HuntCom? How many women would refuse to take the easy way out that had been offered by Harry Hunt? Not many, Georgie thought.

Cornelia Phillips Fairchild hadn’t wasted a whole lot of time feeling sorry for herself, either. She’d sold the family home, the one asset George Fairchild had not been able to touch, because it belonged to Cornelia outright—her inheritance from the maternal grandmother she’d been named for. She’d bought the much smaller Craftsman-style bungalow in Queen Anne that she still lived in, and she’d taken a job as secretary at the small private girls’ school where her daughters were enrolled. In that way, with what she got for the girls in Social Security, what remained from the sale of the big house and her small salary supplementing free tuition for the girls, she was able to keep their lives as close to normal as possible.

Yes, her mother was a remarkable woman, and Georgie thought the world of her. Even so, she mused as she drove away from the family home, she was no longer a child who needed her mother’s guidance, especially when it came to her love life … or lack thereof.

Georgie hoped they’d settled that subject today and that Cornelia wouldn’t be raising it again. Then she grinned. Of course her mother would raise it again. Her mother wasn’t the type to give up easily.

Well, I’m not, either. No one was going to talk her into doing anything she didn’t want to do—absolutely no one.

Zachary Prince was ready for the weekend to begin. Although he really liked his job, today he was tired of being cooped up in the office, tired of all the problems associated with too much work and too few people to do it since his assistant had quit, and he just wanted to go home and spend time with his children.

He often felt guilty because he didn’t need to work. He could stay home and be with the kids full-time. After all, he didn’t need the money. He and his twin sister, Sabrina, had inherited a stock portfolio worth many millions from their grandfather, McKinley. But Zach liked his work as director of the New York office of the Hunt Foundation. And he was wise enough to know that as much as he loved his children, he would go crazy at home all day, especially now that his two oldest, Katie and Jeremy, were in school.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when his phone buzzed. The CID showed Alex Hunt’s name.

“Hey, Alex.”

“Hey, Zach. I’ve got some good news for you. I think I’ll be able to send some help your way.”

“Really? Who? Anybody I know?”

“She works for me, but you haven’t met her because she’s been in the field the past year and a half. Her name is Georgianna Fairchild.”

Fairchild. Weren’t the Fairchilds close friends of the Hunts? And weren’t some of them on the HuntCom board? No matter how badly Zach needed help in the New York office, he didn’t think having a friend of the Hunt family there was a great idea. But before he could think of a tactful way to say so, Alex continued talking.

“In addition to her experience in the field, Georgie’s a whiz at research. She can take over that part of the work easily … and anything else you want her to do. You can trust her, Zach. She’s totally dependable … and she’s got good judgment. I think she’ll be a real asset to you.”

Because he couldn’t think of any other rejoinder, Zach just said, “She does sound good. Um, when is she coming?”

“I haven’t discussed this with her yet, so I don’t want to commit until I do. We’re having lunch tomorrow and we’ll talk about it. I need her here at least another week, and since this will be different from the kinds of assignments she’s had in the past, in that she’ll be staying in New York until we can find a permanent assistant for you, she may need more time after that to make arrangements. For now, let’s say she’ll be there by the fifteenth of next month.”

Zach listened as Alex continued to extol the virtues of Georgie Fairchild, but despite her vaunted capabilities, Zach had a bad feeling about this. No matter what Alex said, Zach didn’t think having a Hunt family friend on staff was a good idea. What if they didn’t like each other? What if she were one of those strong-willed women who thought she knew everything and didn’t take orders well?

After they hung up, Zach sat there, staring into space and thinking. And the more he thought, the more uneasy he felt. Was it possible that Alex was sending this Fairchild woman to New York to spy on him?

Maybe Alex was unhappy with the way things were going in New York. Maybe he’d decided he’d made a mistake when he’d hired Zach, especially considering the special deal Zach had negotiated. Maybe he didn’t think Zach was carrying his weight. But hell, if that were the case, why didn’t Alex just say so? Zach had always believed Alex was a straight shooter, that he’d never do anything underhanded.

But maybe Zach had been wrong.

He guessed only time would tell.

Time, and this Georgie Fairchild.

Chapter Two

Georgie always loved lunching with Alex. It used to be the highlight of her week during the brief period she’d worked in downtown Seattle. Lord, she’d hated that first job at the ad agency. Why she’d taken it, she still couldn’t fathom. But it had served its purpose because she’d quickly realized she wasn’t cut out for the business world and she’d gone back to school and gotten her master’s in sociology.

Once she had that degree in hand, she’d gone to work for a large women’s hospital. Idealistic when she began, four years later she was burned out. One day she’d admitted to Alex that her job had become depressing and that most days she felt she was spinning her wheels and getting nowhere.

“My hands are tied by lack of money and facilities,” she’d said, “And it’s getting worse all the time. Besides, I really want to work with kids. I may not think I’d make a good mother, but I still prefer being around kids to being around most adults. Kids are honest, and they appreciate everything you do for them. I want to do something that makes me feel as if I’m really making a difference.”

“Then,” Alex had said, “it’s time for you to come to work for the foundation.”

Georgie couldn’t believe how much she loved the work she did now. Her job satisfied every part of her. She felt she’d finally found her niche in life. She loved the travel, she loved learning about different peoples and their culture, she loved the children she met and helped and she didn’t even mind the fundraising because she was asking for money for a cause she believed in passionately. But most of all, she loved that she was making a difference. Everything about her work was rewarding.

Of course, there was still the problem of money. Trouble is, there was never enough money for all the things that needed doing. But that was minor compared to the way she’d felt before coming to work at the foundation.

So today, in addition to the pleasure of spending some private time with Alex—they hadn’t seen much of each other since she’d been home, even though she’d been working at the foundation office while waiting to go back into the field—she also had a new assignment to look forward to. She could hardly wait to find out where it would be. Haiti? Indonesia? Ethiopia?

They were lunching at Wild Ginger, one of her favorite places to eat in Seattle. When Georgie arrived, Alex was already there and had secured a window table, a feat in itself at the popular restaurant. Georgie couldn’t help smiling as she approached the table. Alex stood to give her a kiss on the cheek, and once again, she thought how handsome he was. Tall and slender, with dark hair and dark brown eyes, he was a man who attracted admiring looks wherever he went. And when he smiled! Well, even Georgie wasn’t immune to those dimples. But Alex was well and truly taken, and even if he hadn’t been, he was too much like real family, almost the brother she’d never had.

“You’re looking mighty sharp today,” he said once she was settled across from him.

Georgie grinned. Alex knew she would have scoffed if he’d said “pretty” because she wasn’t pretty, and she knew it. The term pretty was for cute little cheerleader types, not for five-ten Amazons. “Sharp as in brilliant, or sharp as in chic?”

He laughed. “I’m pretty sure the safest answer is ‘both.’”

She grinned. “I can see you’re as sharp as ever, too.”

They continued the lighthearted banter while they studied the menu. Georgie finally tossed her menu aside. There was really no point in looking at it. She always ordered the same thing: the pot stickers—their pot stickers were to die for—and the Spice Trader’s Beef. Alex was more adventurous and always tried something different. Today his choices were the Buddha Roll and the Nonya Noodles.

That settled, Georgie finally asked the question she’d been dying to ask. “Well? Don’t keep me in suspense. Have you finally got another field assignment for me?”

“What? We’re not keeping you busy enough at the office?”

“Alex …”

“Haven’t you enjoyed being around for your sister’s wedding and all the holiday stuff?”

She rolled her eyes. “Alex, stop teasing me.”

His smile said he was pleased with himself. “You’ll be going somewhere very different from past assignments.”

“Really? That sounds intriguing. Where?”

Alex waited a heartbeat, then said, “New York.”

Georgie’s smile faded. “New York? You mean … New York City?”

“Yes, our New York office.”

“But … why?” Georgie told herself not to get upset.

“Because Zachary Prince, the director of the New York office, is in a bind right now. His assistant quit a month ago and we’ve had no luck replacing him. We’ve had a lot of candidates, but no one qualified or experienced enough to be a real asset. I don’t want to hire someone just to hire someone. What we do out of New York is too important. That’s why I thought of you.”

“But, Alex, that’s not what I do, I don’t work in an office, and I don’t want to waste—”

He held up his hand. “Wait. Hear me out before you say you don’t want the assignment.”

Georgie made a face.

“This is only temporary, Georgie. Just until we can find a permanent replacement. Both Zach and I intend to keep looking, but in the meantime—as soon as you can wind things up here—you’re perfect for the job. You don’t need any training, and you can be an immediate help to Zach, which is a huge plus. And just because you’re working out of the office doesn’t mean you won’t go into the field. In fact, being Zach’s assistant means you’ll get plenty of chances to look into possible beneficiaries of the Hunt Foundation—the only difference being that those beneficiaries will mostly be in the eastern part of the U.S. Wouldn’t you like to go to Appalachia?”

“Well, of course, I’d like to go to Appalachia, but—”

“But what?”

“I like doing evaluations. That’s what I’m good at.”

“I know that. It’s one of the big reasons you’re so perfect for this job. Zach tells me the pile of requests for assistance is stacking up faster than they can look at them.”

“You’re saying I’ll still get to do the evaluations and make recommendations?” Georgie knew she sounded skeptical. Shoot, she was skeptical. In her experience, assistants didn’t get the interesting jobs. They got the jobs the directors didn’t want to do themselves, probably involving tons of paperwork, which Georgie despised. Suddenly a new thought struck her. “Did my mother put you up to this?”

“Put me up to what?”

“Sending me to New York.”

“Georgie, come on … don’t be paranoid.”

“I’m not being paranoid. I know my mother. If she had gotten even an inkling about what happened in Burundi, I know she’d have been on the phone to you in an instant.”

“I haven’t talked to your mother. She knows nothing about this assignment.”

“You’re sure.” But even as she said it, she could see from Alex’s expression that he was telling her the truth.

She sank back in her chair, her shoulders slumping.

“Come on, Georgie. Cheer up. This assignment is going to be good for you. Good for all of us.” When she didn’t answer, Alex added softly, “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

It killed her to say it, but she finally said, “No.”

Alex started to say something else but quit because their waiter had brought their food. When he left them alone again, Georgie sighed and said, “You’re sure this assignment is only temporary?”

Alex raised his right hand. “I swear, this is absolutely temporary. And the more you can do to relieve Zach, the more time he’ll have to find a replacement for you.” Then came the kicker. “If you do this for me, Georgie, I’ll owe you.”

Georgie wished she could say no. She knew if she adamantly refused to go to New York, Alex wouldn’t force her. But how could she? Alex was her boss and her friend. He’d never before asked for a favor. And she owed him big time, even though he was too nice to remind her of that fact.

“Oh, all right, Alex. You win.” She picked up her chopsticks. “How soon do you want me to be there?”

Cornelia’s cell phone vibrated from the depths of her handbag as she walked toward the south entrance of Nordstrom. She managed to find the phone before the call went to voice mail and saw from the display that it was Harry calling. She felt like ignoring the call, but a mixture of curiosity and the certain knowledge that Harry Hunt, accustomed as he was to people leaping when he said, “Jump,” would just keep trying until she answered trumped her desire to continue making a statement by avoiding him.

Sighing, she pressed the talk icon. “Hello, Harry.”

“Corny, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Yes, well, I’m just on my way into Nordstrom.” She kept her voice deliberately cool.

“Then I won’t keep you long. I just wondered if my favorite gal in the entire world would do me the honor of accompanying me to a dinner next Saturday night.”

Cornelia could have said a lot of things in response to his “favorite gal” comment, but she decided it was wiser not to. Why open that can of worms? Especially when nothing ever changed. “What kind of dinner?” she hedged.

“Oh, I’m getting some award from the Software Society of America. The dinner’s being held at the Fairmont, and you know how I hate these black-tie things. But it’d be bearable if you’d come with me.” He chuckled. “Make that rubber chicken go down a lot easier.”

I should say no. I should say I’m tired of being an also-ran with you. I should say go find yourself another one of your models or actresses to take. I should say I already have a date.

But she didn’t think Harry knew about her fledgling relationship with Greg Berger, the golf pro at the club, and Cornelia wasn’t sure she wanted him to know. She could just imagine what he’d have to say about her dating a much younger man. Of course, every single one of Harry’s four wives had been considerably younger than him. But that was different, wasn’t it? Cornelia gritted her teeth. Just thinking about Harry’s former wives and the double standard about age stiffened her resolve. “I don’t think I can, Harry.”

“Don’t think you can?”

“I believe I have another engagement.” Despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to outright lie to him. “I’ll have to check my calendar after I get home.”

“If you have another engagement, break it. I really want you to be with me at that dinner, Corny.”

“I—” Where’s your backbone? Just say no.

“Please, Corny. I haven’t seen nearly enough of you lately.”

“And whose fault is that?” she retorted before she could stop herself.

“I realize it is my fault, but I’m trying to rectify that. C’mon, say you’ll go. I really want to see you.”

Cornelia could feel herself weakening, and it infuriated her. Why did she find it so hard to refuse him? He was entirely too sure of himself. Break it, indeed! And yet, despite all this, she sighed and said, “Oh, all right, Harry. I’ll go with you.”

“That’s my girl. We’ll pick you up at seven.”

Cornelia shook her head as she disconnected the call. She was spineless. Yet she couldn’t help remembering a night long ago when she had said no to Harry. And who knows how different all their lives might have been if she’d said yes instead.

We were too young, and I was afraid. And when I was finally ready to say yes, it was too late. He’d moved on with wife number one, and then George and I fell in love. After that, all of our lives continued in different directions from the way I’d first imagined they’d go.

She was so lost in the memory of that fateful night when she was only seventeen, a memory she rarely indulged, that she very nearly ran into a young mother exiting Nordstrom while juggling a toddler, a big black umbrella and several packages.

“Sorry,” Cornelia apologized, holding the door open for her.

“No problem,” the harried young woman said.

No problem, Cornelia thought, ducking inside to avoid having to open her own umbrella, for it had just begun to rain. The young woman was right. Some things weren’t worth getting rattled over.

I must stop thinking about the past. What happened, happened. And despite Harry’s cluelessness and Georgie’s stubbornness and my occasional aches and pains, I have no real problems. My life turned out the way it was supposed to turn out.

Her momentary twinge of nostalgia and regret evaporated as she walked briskly into the store.

“Daddeeeee!”

Zach grinned as Emma, his three-year-old, raced down the hall and launched herself at him as he entered their spacious eleventh-floor apartment near Lincoln Center. Was there any feeling as wonderful as this? he thought as he lifted her up and she twined her dimpled arms around his neck.

“Hello, sweetness,” he murmured.

“Mr. Prince. You’re home early.” This observation came from Fanny, his fifty-something housekeeper, who had followed Emma into the foyer.

Zach kissed his daughter, relishing the sweet, littlegirl smell and the softness of her skin. “I decided everything on my desk could wait till Monday.”

It had taken nearly two years for him to stop dreading that first few minutes after arriving home, minutes in which the awareness of Jenny’s absence would strike him yet again, minutes when he’d thought the hollow ache in the vicinity of his heart would never go away. But he was finally adjusting to the fact that she was gone, that cancer had taken his beloved wife at a too-young age and he had been left to raise their three children alone.

He knew he would always treasure the memory of Jenny and he would always miss her, but now he also knew he was going to be okay, because he was finally beginning to think about the future instead of constantly mourning the past.

“And how was your day?” Fanny asked. Her hazel eyes were warm as they studied him.

What would he do without Fanny? He couldn’t even imagine. She was more than a housekeeper, even though that’s how they both referred to her. In many ways, she reminded him of his mother in the manner that she looked after him and his children.

“It was good,” he said. “Got a lot done. But I sure am glad to be home. Where are the other two?” Glancing at the grandfather clock that graced the foyer, he saw it was a few minutes before five. Katie, his ten-year-old, and Jeremy, seven, normally were home from school by four.

“Katie’s at Madison Werner’s house. They’re working on a science project together. She’ll be home at six-thirty. And your sister came by to take Jeremy skating. She said she’d have him back by nine.”

“I wanted to go skating,” Emma said, her blue eyes clouding. “But Jeremy said I’m too little! I’m not too little, Daddy.” Her voice rose in volume with each word.

Sensing a full-blown tantrum brewing, Zach said, “Of course you’re not too little, sweetheart. We’ll go skating Sunday afternoon. How’s that?”

“To Rocky Center.”

“This time I think we’ll go to the park, honey. The rink at Rockefeller Center is too crowded.”

Emma’s frown deepened. “I don’t care! I wanna go to Rocky Center.”

Suppressing a grin, Zach lowered his daughter to the floor. “Tell you what, pumpkin, we’ll decide on Sunday.”

“I’m not a pumpkin!”

Zach could no longer prevent a smile. “You’re my pumpkin.”

Not to be sidetracked from her grievance, Emma put her hands on her hips and deepened her frown. “Jeremy can’t go skating with us. Just girls.”

“Today was just-boys day,” Fanny explained sotto voce.

Zach knew without further explanation that Sabrina had probably been trying to make Emma feel better after Jeremy’s taunt about her being too little, so she’d made the remark about boys only. Zach didn’t blame his twin for not wanting to take Emma along today. Sabrina’s Tommy was eight, and he and Jeremy were best buddies. Emma’s presence would have put a damper on their fun together. Besides, his youngest daughter had to learn she couldn’t do everything her older siblings did.

“You know,” Zach said carefully, “I think it would be more fun for all of us to go skating on Sunday. Then we can show Jeremy just how big you are. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Emma stamped her foot. “No! I don’t want Jeremy to go.” She pronounced his name Jare-mee, with two syllables.

Man, she wasn’t going to give an inch. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear,” he said dryly. Well, he’d just have to hope she had a short memory, because skating was one thing they could all do together as a family. And because Emma was so young, it was tough to find activities that worked for everyone.

“I hate Jeremy,” she muttered. “He’s mean.”

“Emma …”

His youngest glared at him.

“Jeremy is your brother. You don’t hate him. You’re mad at him right now, and that’s okay. You can be mad if you want to be. But I don’t want to hear you saying you hate him. I don’t want to hear you saying you hate anyone. We don’t hate people in this house.”

For a moment, Zach was afraid she would defy him and say it again. She certainly looked like she wanted to. And then what would he do? Of his three children, Emma was the most stubborn and the most difficult to sway. Father Bested by Three-Year-Old, he thought, seeing the headline in his mind.

Why didn’t anyone tell you how hard it was to be a parent? He wished he’d understood just how hard while Jenny was still alive, because he should have gotten down on his knees and thanked her every single day for the wonderful job she was doing.

“Mr. Prince?”

Zach had almost forgotten Fanny was still standing there.

“Mr. Hunt called a few minutes ago. I put the message on the desk in your study.”

Lured by Fanny’s offer to make her hot chocolate with marshmallows, Emma trotted off after the housekeeper, and Zach headed into his home office.

Five minutes later, he had Alex Hunt on the line.

“Just wanted you to know I had lunch with Georgie Fairchild today, and she’ll report to work for you on the seventh.”

Zach glanced at his calendar. “That’s sooner than you thought.”

“She wanted to get going even sooner,” Alex continued. “But we compromised. She’ll be staying at the corporate apartment in New York, at least initially. If it turns out she’s going to be in there more than a month or two, then we’ll see about making other arrangements.”

“Hell, Alex, I sure hope it doesn’t take more than a month to find a permanent assistant.” The last thing Zach wanted was for this Fairchild woman to be hanging over him for weeks on end.

“I hope not, either, but you never know. It’s better to be prepared.”

Zach stifled the urge to say some of the things he’d been thinking. Instead, he said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Okay. I’ll have Deborah make sure everything at the apartment is in order.”

Deborah Zelinsky was Zach’s office manager and, even though the corporate apartment didn’t technically fall under the jurisdiction of the foundation, she was always more than happy to make sure the unit was ready for a visiting dignitary or prospective contributor.

“Thanks, Zach. I think Georgie is going to be a great addition to your team. I know the two of you will get along like a house afire.”

After they’d hung up, Zach sat thinking for a long moment. He still wished he’d said something to Alex about his doubts. And yet, how could he, especially without saying what had prompted those doubts? It wasn’t like he could have come right out and said, Hey, Alex, are you unhappy with me? Is that why you’re sending a spy to New York?

Oh, hell, he had to stop thinking about this. For this weekend, at least, he needed to put Georgie Fairchild and anything else connected to the office out of his mind. Time enough to think about work issues again on Monday.

In the meantime, he’d rather think about Emma, who was a lot more fun, and a lot more important to him, than anything—or anyone—connected with his job could ever be.

“Fanny,” he called as he headed for the kitchen. “Did you make enough hot chocolate for me?”

Chapter Three

Georgie didn’t believe in spending a lot of time packing. Most of the time, she just threw clothes into her trusty old duffel bag on wheels and figured what she didn’t have she would simply go without. And in this case—preparing for an assignment in New York—she could certainly buy anything she needed.

Still … it was winter, and New York was a lot colder than Seattle. Looking at the Weather Channel’s website, she saw that the median temperature this month was hovering around forty degrees. Just her luck. If she had to go to New York, couldn’t Alex at least have sent her in the spring? Or in the fall, which Georgie had been told was probably the most attractive time of the year in Manhattan?

She eyed the clothing she’d piled on her bed. She’d thrown her down parka in the mix and the boots she’d bought last winter in preparation for her trip to Korea. But she didn’t own a nice winter coat, certainly nothing suitable for meeting with potential donors and grant recipients, plus it wouldn’t have fit into the duffel even if she did own one. So she’d definitely have to buy a coat when she got to New York.

“Oh, shoot. I don’t want to do this.”

Even as she muttered the words, she knew she was wasting time and energy on her negative feelings about this assignment. And that was unlike her. What was it about going to New York that was so bad? She’d never been there before, and she’d always wanted to visit. Yeah, but this isn’t a visit. Still, she’d agreed, and she couldn’t change that now. And Alex had promised her time there would only be temporary.

If all went well, they’d find a permanent assistant for Zachary Prince quickly, and Georgie wouldn’t have to stay long at all. And yet … she couldn’t help thinking there must be some reason other than what Alex had given her about why they hadn’t yet been able to find an assistant. Was Zachary Prince difficult to work with? Maybe he was a pain in the butt and Alex hadn’t wanted to say so.

Then she told herself she was doing exactly what Alex had told her not to do. She was being paranoid. Granted, this time her paranoia had nothing to do with her mother, but still …

Lecturing herself to stop borrowing trouble and to think positive, she continued packing. She was almost finished when her cell phone, playing Chris Brown’s “Forever,” sounded from where she’d placed it on her dresser. The song signaled Joanna calling.

“How’s my BFF today?” Georgie said by way of greeting.

“Exhausted.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Too busy, too little time.” Joanna was a struggling fashion designer in the Seattle area, and she was always racing to beat a deadline.

“What else is new?” Georgie abandoned the packing and walked over to the window overlooking the parklike grounds adjacent to her condominium. Below she saw a young couple walking with their arms around each other.

“Nothing, really. Just wanted to see how things were going with you. How was the party last night?” Joanna was referring to Frankie’s engagement party to Eli Wolf.

“It was really nice.”

“And what about Thursday’s farewell lunch with your mother?”

“I enjoyed it. At least this time Mom wasn’t upset. At least, not with me.”

“Who was she upset with?”

“Uncle Harry.”

“What’s the poor guy done now?”

“It’s not what he’s done, it’s what he hasn’t done.” Georgie was still amazed at what her mother had revealed right before Christmas. “Joanna, remember when I told you what my mother told me and my sisters? About Uncle Harry and how she’d once had a thing for him? She made it sound like that was in the distant past, but I think she might really be in love with him.”

“Did she say that?”

“She didn’t have to say it. She was talking about him and some dinner he’d taken her to, and all of a sudden it seemed so obvious I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realized it before.”

“I thought he was more like her brother or something. Didn’t you tell me she and your dad and Harry Hunt were like The three Musketeers when they were young? And she picked your dad.”

Joanna didn’t have to say what Harry had done. They both knew the story. Harry had picked one gorgeous model or actress after another, gold diggers all—at least, in his estimation. Each short-lived marriage had produced one son, and Harry Hunt had gotten sole custody of each of them.

“That’s what we all thought,” Georgie said. “But maybe we don’t know the whole story.”

“You mean you think she’s always loved Harry? And not your dad?”

“No, I don’t believe that. I think she loved my dad. But maybe she loved Uncle Harry first. Or maybe … after Dad died …”

“Did you ask her about her feelings yesterday?”

“Good grief, no. You know how private my mother is. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d said anything directly. And, I don’t know, I felt funny about it. Like maybe it was none of my business.”

“Wow,” Joanna said, amusement in her voice. “I think that’s the first time since I met you that you thought something wasn’t your business.”

“Oh, stuff it,” Georgie said, laughing. But she knew Joanna wasn’t far wrong.

“You know,” Joanna said, “maybe this explains why Harry got so weird about your mother dating that golf pro from the club.”

“You’re probably right. Here I thought he was just worried because the guy’s so much younger than my mother. But maybe he was actually jealous!”

“It’s possible. I know Chick can’t stand it when I even look at anyone else.”

Georgie nodded, even though Joanna couldn’t see her. “It all makes sense now. There’s got to be some kind of history here, something my sisters and I never suspected.”

“Oh, Georgie. It’s terribly romantic, isn’t it? Maybe they’ve been pining for each other for years. I know! Why don’t you and your sisters turn the tables on them and try to get them together? I mean, they were trying their darnedest to fix you guys up. Why not fix them up, because, Lord knows, if you don’t, they might never get it right.”

Georgie laughed. “It would serve them right, wouldn’t it? But think about it. What could we actually do? It’s not like we can plop them down on a desert island or something.”

“No, but you can maybe nudge them along a bit.”

“I’m afraid my sisters will have to do the nudging, ‘cause I’ll be in New York.” Glancing at the digital alarm sitting on her bedside table, she added, “Speaking of, I’d better get a move on. My flight leaves at noon, and I still have to finish packing and get a shower.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go. Safe trip.”

“Thanks.” After promising to call or text Joanna as soon as she hit LaGuardia, they said goodbye.

Fifteen minutes later, duffel packed, laptop and cell phone charging, Georgie headed for the shower.

Katie, Zach’s ten-year-old, kept Zach up half the night with a sore throat and a fever. On any other day, even if he had work stacked to the ceiling, Zach would have taken the morning off—maybe even the entire day—and taken his daughter to the doctor himself. But today was the day Georgie Fairchild was to report to work, so he reluctantly agreed that Fanny could take Katie to see their pediatrician.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Prince. She’ll be fine. I’ll call you after we’ve seen Dr. Noble.”

But Zach knew he would worry. Worse, he’d feel guilty all day. He should be the one taking care of Katie, not Fanny. As he had so often since Jenny died, he thought about how little consideration he’d ever given to the plight of single parents. But that was before, and this was now. Now he was a single parent himself. And he was fortunate. He had money, and when he couldn’t be here, he could afford the best care possible for his children. And yet he still felt guilty when he couldn’t do the things Jenny had done.

Some days he felt he was incredibly selfish—working when he didn’t have to. And yet everyone needed some kind of work. Worthwhile work was important. He wanted to set that example for his children, even as he wanted to be with them as much as possible.

He was still mulling over his ever-present, unsolvable dilemma as he wearily headed to the office.

Always begin the way you mean to continue. Georgie thought of her mother’s advice, given so often over the years, as she dressed for her first day in the New York office.

Good thing she’d arrived in the city a few days early. She’d quickly discovered her ideas of what New York women wear were wrong. First of all, she didn’t own anywhere near enough black. Second, she needed better walking boots that she could actually wear to the office—ones that wouldn’t be ruined by dirty snow and slush—because New York was definitely a walking city, which she actually liked.

Now, after a couple of necessary shopping trips, she felt as if she fit in. At least she wouldn’t look like a tourist.

She’d also scoped out the location of the Hunt Foundation’s New York office (only a couple of blocks away from the corporate apartment), the closest Starbucks (after all, she was a Seattle girl, and if she couldn’t have her daily fix of her sister Bobbie’s brew, she’d take theirs) and the best place to buy tickets to hear classical musicians she admired (this she was still investigating).

Now she was armed and ready to meet her new boss.

Dressed in black wool pants, her new black boots, businesslike white blouse, lightweight black cardigan and a good-looking black wool coat she’d bought on sale at Bloomingdale’s, she left the apartment at 8:25, even though supposedly the office didn’t open for business until nine. Why so late? she wondered. Seattle offices started their workday at eight. Did a nine o’clock start have something to do with being on Eastern Time? She guessed it didn’t really matter. There was a Starbucks conveniently close by; she’d just duck in there and get a skinny latte.

Latte in hand, she arrived at the foundation office eight minutes before nine, at the same time an attractive redhead was unlocking the door. The redhead looked up. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“I’m Georgie Fairchild. I—”

“Oh, yes, of course. We’re expecting you. I’m Deborah Zelinsky, the office manager here.” She pulled off a wool glove and stuck out her right hand. “C’mon in. I generally get here earlier, but my son woke up with a stomachache and, well, you know …”

Georgie nodded, although she really didn’t know … and didn’t want to know what it must be like to be both mother and employee. She felt capable of many things, but juggling two such important roles seemed to her to be the ultimate in self-sacrifice. She had nothing but admiration for working mothers—for all mothers—but was glad she’d realized early on that role wasn’t for her.

Following Deborah into the office, Georgie quickly saw it wasn’t a fancy place. Not that she’d expected it to be. Most foundations, even well-funded ones, didn’t waste money on frills. And if they did, then they were suspect in Georgie’s eyes.

Substance over flash, that was Georgie’s credo.

Deborah dumped her handbag and a paper sack onto a desk in the outer office and gestured to a group of chairs against the wall. “Have a seat. Let me get things turned on and organized, then I’ll show you around.”

“Okay.” But Georgie didn’t sit down. Instead she walked over to the opposite wall where several black-and-white framed photographs were hung. She studied them with interest. The first showed a familiar actor shaking hands with Bill Clinton. She idly wondered why a photo of Patrick Dempsey would be hanging in the foundation’s office. Had he made a big contribution or been involved in a recent humanitarian effort on behalf of the foundation? He and the former president were the only ones she recognized. The other photos were of people she didn’t know, people who were obviously either supporters or workers for the foundation. She only glanced at them, thinking it was likely one of the men in those photos was her new boss, Zachary Prince.

“Miss Fairchild?”

Georgie whipped around. She hadn’t heard Deborah’s return.

“Our one claim to fame,” Deborah said, walking over and pointing to the photo of the actor and Bill Clinton.

“What did Patrick Dempsey do for the foundation?” Georgie asked.

Deborah rolled her eyes. “Oh, boy. Zach hates that.”

“Hates what?”

“When people think he’s Patrick Dempsey. He gets it all the time. Women have been known to follow him on the street. One or two have even followed him to the office. And let’s not even talk about the paparazzi.” She shook her head. “They’ve been fooled by the resemblance, too.”

Georgie stared at Deborah. “That’s Zachary Prince? Not Patrick Dempsey?”

“Yep. That’s Zach.”

Geez Louise. Georgie didn’t trust gorgeous men. In fact, aside from Alex, she’d never met one who wasn’t full of himself. I knew I wasn’t going to like this assignment, and that conviction just got a lot stronger.

Deborah was still chuckling as she said, “C’mon, I’ll give you the ten-cent tour now.”

It didn’t take long to see the rest of the offices. There were only three of them, plus a small conference room, a tiny kitchen and a unisex bathroom. The largest office was Zachary Prince’s, Deborah explained. Georgie only caught a glimpse of it, because they didn’t go inside. The office assigned to Georgie was directly across the hall, and next door to hers was an office that was used by everyone and anyone associated with the foundation at any given time.

“Including visitors and temporary help,” Deborah said. “We pretty much operate on a shoestring. Zach doesn’t believe in wasting money that can be used in better places.”

Good, Georgie thought. At least he and she would agree in one area. “Where is Mr. Prince?”

Deborah smiled. “Oh, don’t call him Mr. Prince. He’d hate that, too. He’s Zach to everyone.”

Georgie noticed that Deborah hadn’t answered her question. She was just about to pose it again, when Deborah said, “To answer your question, Zach doesn’t usually get here before ten.”

Oh, really? Strike two, Georgie thought, only barely preventing herself from rolling her eyes the way Deborah had earlier. Georgie could just imagine why he couldn’t make it in early. She’d known a few of his type—pretty boys who did the club scene at night. No wonder Alex was concerned about the New York office, even if he hadn’t seen fit to tell her exactly why he was concerned.

She was still thinking about the things Deborah had told her, even as she unpacked her satchel and arranged the supplies piled upon her desk. She hoped she was wrong. She hoped Zach Prince would turn out to be just as great as Alex had made him out to be. But she had a bad feeling that Alex had kept things from her.

And even if he hadn’t, even if he really thought Zachary Prince was terrific, there was always a first time to be fooled, especially when you were operating long distance from each other. In fact, maybe the reason they so desperately needed to hire an assistant here was because the assistant actually did all the work. And who knew? Maybe down deep, Alex suspected as much, even if he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, put his suspicions into words.

Georgie had just finished setting everything up to her liking, booting up her company-issue laptop and logging on to the employee section of the foundation’s website, where she’d begun reading the reports of weekend activity posted by various field agents and other foundation employees, when she heard a male voice talking to Deborah, then the footsteps of someone coming down the hall.

Mr. Gorgeous had finally arrived, she guessed.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the Patrick Dempsey lookalike stood in her open doorway. “Good morning,” he said.

Bad night, she thought, eyeing his rumpled, longish black hair and tired eyes. Probably out way too late. “Good morning.”

“Zach Prince,” he said, walking in. He wore a dark business suit under a black topcoat.

Georgie stood. “Georgie Fairchild.” They shook hands. His handshake was firm but not crushing, a minor point in his favor. Georgie hated when men tried to show you how strong they were with a handshake from hell.

He looked at her desk. “Sorry I wasn’t here earlier, but I see Deborah has taken care of you.”

“Yes, she has.”

“Give me a half hour or so to get some things organized, then we’ll talk.”

If Georgie had been him, she’d have been here an hour before the new person was scheduled to arrive. She’d have been ready to talk immediately. “All right,” she agreed.

Not a good beginning, she thought as she watched him walk across the hall and into his office. When he shut the door behind him, she shook her head. Not a good beginning at all.

Hell, Zach thought. He could see, just from the way she looked at him, that Georgie Fairchild was judging him and finding him wanting. He could easily imagine what she thought. Not only was he later than usual—10:30 by his watch—but he probably looked like he’d been out all night. Added to that was the way he looked, which caused people who didn’t know him to think he was a lightweight.

One look at Georgie Fairchild and anyone could see that she wasn’t a lightweight. Her height alone—Zach guessed she was about five ten or eleven—would be intimidating to a lot of people. It wasn’t to Zach—he was well over six feet himself—but he would imagine it gave her an advantage in a lot of situations.

In addition to her height were businesslike clothes, a utilitarian watch, no jewelry except tiny diamond earrings, thick wheat-blond hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, cool green eyes, subtle makeup—it was obvious to anyone that here was a young woman who was capable, efficient and self-confident.

Zach groaned inwardly. All his reservations about Georgie Fairchild bubbled up. He’d been right to be concerned. Having her here was not a good idea. Zach felt like picking up the phone and calling Alex right now and saying, “No way, José.” So what if she had an honorary seat on the HuntCom board?

In fact, if she gave him one bit of trouble, she was going to be out of here. But if worse came to worst, if Alex really had sent her here for some ulterior motive, then Zach’s ongoing work-versus home dilemma might solve itself.

Feeling better now that he’d decided on his modus operandi, he booted up his laptop and opened his email account.

It was almost 11:30 before Zach—she couldn’t keep referring to him as Zachary Prince, even in her own mind—called Georgie into his office. She kept telling herself to keep an open mind, but if she was being honest with herself, she’d admit she’d pretty much formed her opinion of him already. Maybe he was as good as Alex had said he was, but his work habits told another story.

He stood as she walked into the office. Okay, so he’d been taught nice manners and they extended into the workplace, but as far as Georgie was concerned, standing for her was another strike against him, because all the gesture meant was that he thought of her more as a woman than a colleague.

“I understand you got here on Friday,” he said as they both took a seat—him behind the desk, her in one of the two chairs flanking it. There was also a long leather sofa along the side wall and several framed watercolors hanging above it.

“Yes.”

He must have noticed her looking at the watercolors, because he said, “My sister painted those.”

“They’re lovely.” And they were. Georgie would have liked to look at them more closely.

“Thank you,” he said, still in that rather formal voice. “So, have you been to the city before?”

“No, this is my first time.”

“What do you think of it?”

“So far, I like it.”

“How’s the apartment?”

“It’s very nice, thank you.” Georgie hesitated, then added, “I appreciate that you stocked the pantry and refrigerator for me.”

“That was Deborah’s doing.”

“I’ll have to thank her, then.”

For a few minutes, they talked about the sights she’d taken in over the weekend, and just as Georgie was beginning to think he’d never get down to business, he said, “Shall we get started?”

I thought you’d never ask. “I’m ready anytime you are.”

He picked up a large blue bound notebook, and as he did so, Georgie noticed the two framed photos on his desk, which the notebook had partially hidden. Without staring, she could see that one was a photo of three children—one of whom looked quite young—and the other was of a very pretty dark-haired woman.