Substitute Seduction

“He looks pretty suave and elegant to me.”

Maribelle’s wry tone spiked London’s curiosity and she carefully let her gaze drift in his direction. Not wanting the man to think she was at all interested in him, she didn’t look directly at him as she took in his appearance.

The Harrison Crosby she’d been picturing looked nothing like the refined gentleman in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit that drew attention to his strong shoulders and narrow hips. Her hormones reacted with shocking intensity to his stylish appearance. He was clean-shaved tonight, appearing elegant enough to have stepped off a New York runway. Where she’d been able to dismiss the “rough around the edges good ol’ boy” in racing attire, London saw she’d miscalculated the appeal of a confident male at the top of his game.

“Apparently he cleans up well,” London remarked grudgingly, her gaze moving on before she could get caught staring.

“He’s coming this way,” Maribelle squeaked.

London’s pulse revved like an engine as she took in his elegant appearance. “Get a hold of yourself,” she murmured in exasperation, unsure if she was speaking to herself or Maribelle.

“Good evening, ladies.” His voice had a deep, rich tone like the rumble of a cat’s purr. “I’m Harrison Crosby. Dixie Bass-Crosby is my aunt.”

“Number twenty-five,” Maribelle responded in a surprisingly girlish tone that caused London to gape. “You’re having a great second half this year. I’m Maribelle Gates.”

A sexy half grin kicked up one corner of his mouth. “You follow racing?” he asked, echoing the question in London’s head.

While his sea-glass eyes remained focused on Maribelle, London stared at him in consternation. Her body was reacting to his proximity in confusing ways.

“I do,” Maribelle confirmed. “So does my fiancé. We’re huge fans.”

As her best friend displayed a surprising amount of knowledge about race-car driving, London began to feel like a third wheel. While the two girls had been best friends since their first day of the exclusive private girls’ school they’d attended, certain differences had always existed between them.

Both were from wealthy families, but Maribelle’s had the sort of social standing that had allowed her access to the inner circles that had eluded London and her family. And while each woman was beautiful, Maribelle had always fought with her weight and this had led to her feeling less secure about her appearance. But the biggest difference was that for all her lack of social standing, London had always been the more popular of the two.

Until now.

“Oh,” Maribelle exclaimed, glancing toward her friend as if suddenly realizing they’d excluded London. “How rude of me to monopolize you. This is London McCaffrey.”

“Nice to meet you,” London said. Yet as miffed as she was at his earlier lack of interest, she wasn’t sure she meant it.

“Nice to meet you, as well.” Harrison’s gaze flicked from one woman to the other. “Now, it seems as if you know all about me. What is it you ladies do?”

“I’m planning a wedding,” Maribelle said with a silly little giggle that left London struggling not to roll her eyes.

Harrison’s sculpted lips shifted into an indulgent smile. “I imagine that’s a full-time job.”

London bit the inside of her lip to keep from snorting in derision. “I own an event planning company,” she said a trifle too aggressively. Hearing her tone brought a rush of heat to London’s cheeks. Was she seriously trying to compete with her engaged friend for a man she wasn’t even interested in?

“Are you planning her wedding?”

London shot her friend a glance as she shook her head. “No.”

“Not your thing?” he guessed, demonstrating an ability to read the subtle currents beneath her answer.

“She mostly organizes corporate and charity events,” Maribelle responded with a sweet smile that stabbed at London’s heart.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Harrison said, the impact of his full attention making London’s palms tingle. “My brother’s turning forty next month and I was going to plan a party for him. Only I don’t know anything about that sort of thing. I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out?”

“I...” Her first impulse was to refuse, but she’d been looking for an opening that would get her into Tristan’s orbit. Planning his birthday party would be an excellent step in that direction. “Don’t usually do personal events, but I would be happy to meet with you and talk about it.”

She pulled a business card out of her clutch and handed it to him.

He glanced at the card. “‘London McCaffrey. Owner of ExcelEvent.’ I’ll be in touch.” Then, with a charming smile, he said, “Nice meeting you both.”

London’s eyes remained glued to his retreating figure for several seconds. When she returned her focus to Maribelle, her friend was actively smirking.

“What?”

“See? I told you. What you need is a little fun.”

“It’s a job,” London said, emphasizing each word so Maribelle wouldn’t misinterpret the encounter. “He’s looking for someone to organize his brother’s birthday party. That’s why I gave him my card.”

“Sure.” Maribelle’s hazel eyes danced. “Whatever you say. But I think what you need is someone to take your mind off what happened between you and Linc, and in my not-so-humble opinion, that—” she pointed at the departing figure “—is the perfect man for the job.”

Everything London had read about him stated that he liked to play hard and that his longest relationship to date had lasted just over a year. She’d decided her next romance would be with a man with a serious career. Someone she’d have lots in common with.

“Why do you think that?” London asked, unable to understand her friend’s logic. “As far as I can tell, he’s just like Linc. An athlete with an endless supply of eager women at his beck and call.”

“Maybe he’s just looking for the right woman to settle down with,” Maribelle countered. She’d been singing a different tune about men and romance since she’d started dating Beau Shelton. “Can’t you at least give the guy a chance?”

London sighed. She and Maribelle had had this conversation any number of times over the last few months as her friend had tried to set her up with one or another of Beau’s friends. Maybe if she said yes Maribelle would back off.

“I’m really not ready to date anyone.”

“Don’t think of it as dating,” Maribelle said. “Just think of it as hanging out.”

Since London was already thinking in terms of how she could use Harrison to get to Tristan, it was an easy enough promise to make. “If it means you’ll stop bugging me,” she said, hiding her sudden satisfaction at killing two birds with one stone, “I’ll agree to give Harrison Crosby one chance.”

Two

Harrison spent more than his usual twenty minutes in the bathroom of his penthouse condo overlooking the Cooper River as he prepared for his meeting with London McCaffrey.

A woman he’d dated for a short time a year ago had given him pointers on grooming particulars that women appreciated. At the time he’d viewed the whole thing with skepticism, but after giving the various lotions, facial scrubs, hair-care products and other miscellaneous items a try, he’d been surprised at the results and happily reaped the benefits of Serena’s appreciation.

Still, as much as he’d seen the value in what she’d introduced into his life, his focus during racing season left little room for such inconsequential activities. Today, however, he’d applied all that he’d learned, scrutinizing his hands to ensure they were grease-free and giving his nails more than a cursory clipping, even going so far as to run a file over the edges to smooth away any sharpness. Although he didn’t touch the high-tech race cars until he slid behind the wheel, Harrison often unwound from a race weekend by tinkering with the rare classics his uncle bought for his collection.

Today, however, as he surveyed his charcoal jeans, gray crewneck sweater and maroon suede loafers, Harrison decided that someone as stylish as London would appreciate a man who paid attention to his grooming. And in truth, his already elevated confidence was inflated even further when the receptionist at ExcelEvent goggled at him as he strolled into the King Street office.

“You’re Harrison Crosby,” the slender brunette exclaimed, her brown eyes wide with shock as he advanced on her desk. “And you’re here.” She gawked at him, her hands gripping the edge of the desk as if to hold herself in place.

Harrison gave her a slow grin. “Would you let London know I’ve arrived?”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” Never taking her eyes off him, she picked up her phone and dialed. “Harrison Crosby is here to see you. Okay, I’ll let him know.” She returned the handset to the cradle and said, “She’ll be out in a second. Would you like some coffee or water or...?” She trailed off and went back to staring at him.

“I’m fine.”

“If you want to have a seat.” The receptionist gestured to a black-and-white floral couch beneath the ExcelEvent logo painted in white on the gray wall. “She shouldn’t be too long.”

“Thank you.”

Ignoring the couch, Harrison stood in the center of the room, wondering how long she would leave him cooling his heels. While he waited, he took stock of his surroundings, getting a sense of London’s taste from the clean color palette of black, white and gray, the hint of drama provided by the silver accessories and the pop of color courtesy of the flower arrangement on the reception desk. On the wall across from him was a large-screen TV with a series of images and videos from various events that London had organized.

In his hand, his phone buzzed. Harrison sighed as he glanced at the message on the screen. Even though he took Mondays and Tuesdays off during the season, rarely an hour went by that his team wasn’t contacting him as they prepared the car for that week’s upcoming race. Each track possessed a different set of variables that the teams used to calibrate the car. There were different settings for shocks, weight, height, springs, tires, brakes and a dozen other miscellaneous factors.

For the first time in a long time, Harrison debated leaving the text unanswered. He didn’t want to split his focus today. His team knew what it was doing. His input could wait until his meeting with London concluded.

A change in the air, like a fragrant spring breeze, pushed against his skin an instant before London McCaffrey spoke his name.

“Mr. Crosby?”

As he looked up from his phone, Harrison noted the uptick in his heartbeat. Today she wore a sleeveless peach dress with a scalloped neckline and hem, and floral pumps. Her long blond hair fell over her shoulders in loose waves. Feminine perfection with an elusive air, she advanced toward him, her hand outstretched.

Her fingers were cool and soft as they wrapped around his hand. “Good to see you again.”

“I intend to call you London,” he said, leaning just ever so slightly forward to better imprint the faint scent of her floral perfume on his senses. “So you’d better call me Harrison.”

“Harrison.” Still holding his hand, she gazed up at him through her lashes, not in a manner he considered coy, but as if she was trying to take his measure. A second later she pulled free and gestured toward a hallway behind the reception desk. “Why don’t you come back to my office?” She turned away from him and led the way, pausing for a brief exchange with the receptionist.

“Missy, were you able to get hold of Grace?”

“I had to leave a message. Do you want me to put her through when she calls?” Missy glanced at Harrison as she asked the question.

“Yes. It’s urgent that I speak with her as soon as possible.” London glanced back at Harrison as she entered her office. Like the reception area, this tranquil space was decorated in monochrome furniture and accessories. “I hope you don’t mind the interruption, but I’m organizing a fiftieth wedding anniversary for a client’s parents in a week and some things have come up I need her to weigh in on. She’s currently out of the country and not due back until just before the party.”

“I understand.” His phone vibrated with another incoming text as if to punctuate his point. “I’m sure you have all sorts of balls in the air.”

“Yes.” She gestured him toward a round table to their left and closed the door. “I always have several projects going at once.”

“Are you a one-woman show?” His gaze tracked her as she strode to her glass-topped desk and picked up a utilitarian pad and basic pen. No fancy notebooks and expensive writing instruments for London McCaffrey.

“No, I have several assistants,” she explained as she sat across from him. “Most of them help me out on a part-time basis, but I have two full-time employees plus Missy, my receptionist.”

“I didn’t realize your company was so large.”

She acknowledged the implied compliment with a slight smile. “I’ve been fortunate to have expanded rapidly since I opened my doors.”

“How long have you been in business?” Harrison leaned back in his chair and let his gaze flow over her slender shoulders and down her bare arms.

She sat forward, arms resting on the tabletop, the pen held lightly in her fingers. “Nearly six years. I started right out of college.”

“Why an event planning company?”

Her eyes narrowed as if she’d suddenly noticed that he was interviewing her, but her voice remained smooth and unruffled as she answered. “My mother used to be a socialite in New York and has always been big on the charity circuit. I started attending events when I was in my teens and mostly found them tedious because I didn’t know anyone. To keep myself occupied, I would spend my time analyzing the food, decor and anything else that went into the party. When I got home, I would write it all down and make notes of what I would do differently.”

Harrison found himself nodding in understanding as she described her process. “That sounds a lot like how I got into car racing. My uncle used to let me help him work on the cars and, when I got old enough to drive, gave me the opportunity to get behind the wheel. I could tear apart an entire engine and put it back together by the time I was fourteen.”

“I guess we both knew what we wanted to do from an early age.”

“Something we have in common.” The first of many somethings, he hoped.

As if realizing that they’d veered too far into the personal, she cleared her throat. “So you said you were interested in having someone organize a party for your brother’s birthday?”

“Yes.” Harrison admired her segue back to the reason for his visit. “He turns forty next month and I thought someone should plan something.”

After meeting London the other night, Harrison had called his mother and confirmed that no one was in the process of planning anything for Tristan’s fortieth birthday. In the past, events like this had been handled by Tristan’s wife, Zoe, but she was out of the picture now.

She tapped her pen on the notepad. “Tell me something about your brother.”

Harrison pondered her question for a moment. What did he know about Tristan? They were separated by more than just an eight-year age difference. They had different ideologies when it came to money, women and careers. Nor had they been close as kids. Their age differences meant the brothers had always attended different schools and Tristan’s free time had been taken up by sports and friends.

“He runs the family business since our dad semi-retired five years go,” Harrison began. “Crosby Automotive is a billion-dollar national chain of auto parts stores and collision centers in twenty states. We also have one of the largest private car dealership groups on the East Coast.”

“And you race cars.”

Her matter-of-fact tone carried no judgment, but Harrison imagined someone as no-nonsense as London McCaffrey wouldn’t view what he did in a good light. No doubt a guy like Tristan, who put on an expensive suit and spent his days behind a desk, was more her cup of tea. On the other hand, she had been engaged to a baseball player, so maybe Harrison was the one guilty of being judgmental.

“I’m one of four drivers that races for Crosby Motorsports.”

“Car twenty-five,” she said, doodling a two and a five on her legal pad before encircling the numbers with a series of small stars.

He watched her in fascination. “Yep.”

“I’ve never seen a race.” She glanced up, caught him watching her and very quickly set the pen down atop the drawing as if embarrassed by her sketch.

“Well, you’re in luck,” he said. “I’m racing on Sunday in Richmond.”

“Oh, I don’t think...” Her eyes widened.

“It’s my last race of the season.” He made his tone as persuasive as possible.

London shook her head. “It’s really not my thing.”

“Then what is?”

“My thing?” She frowned. “I guess I don’t really have one. I work a lot, you see.”

“And that leaves no room for fun?”

“From what my friend told me about a racer’s schedule, I’d like to know when you slow down for fun.”

“You have me there. I’m on the go most of the year.”

She nodded as if that put an end to the topic. “So, how many people are you looking to invite to your brother’s birthday party?”

“Around a hundred.” He’d secured a list from his mother after realizing he’d better not show up to a party planning meeting empty-handed and clueless.

“And do you have a budget?” London had relaxed now that they’d returned to familiar territory and flipped to a clean page so she could jot notes.

“Keep it under ten.”

“Thousand?” She sounded a tad surprised, leaving Harrison questioning whether he’d gone too high or too low. “That amount opens up several possible venues. Of course, the timing is a little tight with it being the start of the holiday season. Did you have a particular date in mind?”

“His birthday is December fifth.”

“I’ll have Missy start calling around for availability.” She excused herself and went to speak to her receptionist.

Harrison barely had a chance to look at any of the several texts that had come in while they’d been talking before she returned.

“Are you thinking a formal sit-down dinner with cocktails before and dancing afterward or something more casual?”

“My mother insists on a formal event. But I don’t think dancing. Maybe a jazz band, giving people a chance to mingle and chat.” Harrison was even more relieved that he’d checked with his mother because he was able to parrot everything she’d suggested.

“You were smart to get her input,” London said, picking up on his train of thought. “I guess my last question for now is whether you had any sort of theme in mind.”

Theme? Harrison was completely stumped. “I guess I was just thinking it was his fortieth birthday...”

“A color scheme?”

More and more Harrison wished he’d found a different way to connect with London McCaffrey. “What would you suggest?”

Her lips pursed as she pondered the question. “I’ll pull together three ideas and run them past you. What are you thinking about for the meal?”

“Wouldn’t it depend on the place we choose?”

“Yes, but it might help narrow things down if I thought you wanted seafood versus steak and chicken.”

“Ah, can I think about it?”

With a slight shake of her head, she pressed on. “Give me your instant thoughts.”

“Seafood.”

She jotted that down. “There are several venues that do an exceptional job.”

Although he’d never planned an event like this before, Harrison was finding that the process flowed easily with London in charge. She was proving to be both efficient and knowledgeable.

“You’re really great at this,” he said.

Her lips quirked. “It is what I do for a living.”

“I didn’t mean to sound surprised. It’s just that I’ve never thrown anyone a birthday party before and you’re making everything so easy.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to be in charge of this particular event?”

Harrison doubted London was the sort who liked to play games, so he decided to be straight with her. “I volunteered because I was interested in getting to know you better and a friend warned me that you wouldn’t be inclined to give me a shot.”

“Get to know me better?” She looked more curious than annoyed or pleased. “So you decided to hire me to plan your brother’s birthday party? You should know that I don’t date my clients.”

Despite her claim, he sensed she wasn’t shutting him down entirely. “You said you usually work with corporate clients. Maybe this would be an excellent opportunity to gain some exposure with Crosby Automotive. And I get a chance to work with a woman who intrigues me. A win-win solution all around.”

Interest colored her voice as she echoed, “A win-win solution...”

* * *

London’s pen flowed across the legal pad as she randomly sketched a centerpiece and pondered Harrison’s words.

When he’d called to set up this meeting, she’d been elated. Organizing his brother’s birthday party would solve the problem of how she could get close enough to Tristan to figure out how to bring him down. The more she learned about Zoe’s ex-husband, the more daunting her task. Frustration welled up in London as she considered the impulsive bargain she’d made several months earlier. What had she been thinking to agree to something that could lead to trouble for her in the future if she wasn’t careful? But how did she back out now that Everly and Zoe had their plans in motion?

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Harrison asked.

The abruptness of his invitation combined with the uptick in her body’s awareness of him caught her off guard, and London was shocked and dismayed by the delight blooming in her.

“I...”

She’d been so focused on her goal of helping Zoe that she hadn’t considered the possibility of an interpersonal relationship between her and Harrison. Now, with his startling confession, the situation had grown complicated.

“Ever since meeting you at the party the other night, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he declared, his sea-toned eyes darkening as his voice took on a smoky quality. “You don’t date your clients, but there’s nothing that says you can’t. Let me take you to dinner.”

You made this devil’s bargain. Now see it through.

“Tomorrow would be better,” she responded a touch breathlessly.

“I’m heading to Richmond with the crew tomorrow. Tonight is all I have.”

She was on the verge of refusing when his smile faded. An intense light entered his eyes and London found it difficult to breathe. The man’s charisma was off the charts at the moment and London found herself basking in the glow of his admiration. At the same time she couldn’t help but wonder if he was sincere or merely plying her with flattery to get her into bed. Worse, she wasn’t sure she cared.

Maribelle’s words came back to haunt her. London could use a little fun in her life and rebound sex with Harrison Crosby might be what enabled her to move on from Linc. If only she wasn’t planning to use Harrison as part of their revenge plot.

“I don’t want to have to wait another week to spend an evening with you,” he continued as she grappled with her conscience.

“I’m flattered,” she said, stalling for time.

His lips kicked into a dry grin. “No, you’re not.”

Harrison wasn’t the sort of Southern gentleman she was used to. One she could wrap around her finger. He had a straightforward sex appeal that excited her and made her feel all needy and prone to acts of impulsiveness. The urge to grab his sweater and haul him over for a kiss shocked her.

“Really—” Her instincts screamed at her to retreat. Her susceptibility to this man could prove dangerous.

“You think I’m hitting on you because I want to sleep with every woman I meet.”

“I wouldn’t dream of thinking such a thing,” she murmured in her most guileless drawl as she glanced down at her legal pad and noticed she’d been drawing hearts. She quickly flipped to a clean page and set down her pen.