The C.e.o.'S Unplanned Proposal

“In that case, I’ll definitely be there,” Ilsa said with a laugh. “And I will get you the name of that events planner.”

“That would be a help.” Adam’s thoughts were halfway to the office already. “I’ll ask my secretary to call you for the information.”

“Or I’ll call you. Thanks, again, for lunch. I loved getting to know you a little in person.”

“I enjoyed it tremendously. Take care.” He waited for her to turn away, which she did, but before he made his own turn in the opposite direction, she was back, extending her hand toward him.

“You might need this,” she said.

He took it without a glance and slipped it into his suit pocket. “I’ll be sure you get an invitation to the party.”

“Perhaps we’ll run into each other again in the meantime.” Then, she walked off at a brisk clip and Adam didn’t give her—or the business card she’d given him—another thought.

WHEN THE CARD turned up, Adam barely recalled how he’d come to have it. For nearly two weeks, he’d been immersed in salvaging Braddock Industries’ purchase of The Wallace Company and had thought of little else. The deal teetered on the brink of collapse from one day to the next, coming close to agreement and then falling apart all over again. Adam had spent long hours investigating how a “sure thing” had gone awry, trying unsuccessfully to get Richard Wallace to meet with him, one on one. So far, Wallace was holding firmly in the negotiations-are-over camp and finally, Adam had sent his corporate team home for the weekend, telling them to rest, relax and return with new energy and the enthusiasm to get this buyout completed, one way or another.

Adam planned to spend the entire weekend in the office, coming up with a compromise. For some months now, Braddock Industries had been quietly buying up a large chunk of Wallace stock as a negotiating tool but, while Adam had issued the buy order, he didn’t want to initiate a hostile takeover. Not if there was any other way to get what he wanted. He admired Richard Wallace tremendously for building a company out of nothing and, it was true, Adam’s one business failing was his soft spot for family-run concerns. After all, where would the Braddock family be if some upstart had decided to take over the construction business back when it was vulnerable to such an unwelcome attack? On the other hand, the offer was a fair one and Adam had a gut feeling that Richard Wallace had dug in his heels only because he wanted to walk away with a little more dignity and considerably more cash than was first offered.

IF Enterprises, read the raised gold lettering across the pink card stock. Ilsa Fairchild, 555-5683.

Adam continued to frown at the business card, newly discovered under piles of reports on his desk. He recalled his lunch with Ilsa as pleasant, nothing out of the ordinary, but was still unsure as to why his grandfather had asked him to meet with her in the first place. No request for a contribution had been forthcoming. He hadn’t been asked to head up a new fund-raiser for a worthwhile cause. His father’s wedding plans were going along apace, and Archer hadn’t even asked how the luncheon went or mentioned this old friend of the family since. But then, Adam hadn’t been home in the past week and a half, preferring to stay at the Providence apartment and remain focused on the Wallace deal. But now it was Friday night, the staff had long since left for the weekend, and he was staring at a backlog of paperwork…and a misty pink business card.

Turning the card over in his hands, he read the name and phone number written in scrunched and scribbled letters of black ink across the back. Kate—or was it Katie? He couldn’t quite make out the letters—Canton. The name meant nothing to him and he wondered why Ilsa Fairchild would have given it to him. But…wait. The birthday party. They’d talked about the birthday party. The one he’d given not a single thought since. Adam vaguely recalled asking Ilsa if she could recommend an events planner. And she’d said…yes? Yes, she did know someone. That must be the reason he’d tucked her card into his pocket and tossed it onto his desk upon his return to the office. She’d written down the name on the back of her business card. He’d intended to give it to Lara, who would have passed it on to Nell, his personal secretary, who would have called this Kate Canton and gotten the party plans underway. But other concerns had pushed the information—and the need for it—out of his mind. Parties were never top priority for him under the best of circumstances.

And now, it was six weeks and counting until Archer’s birthday. Adam realized he’d better take some action…and quickly. A glance at his watch brought a frown. Nine-thirty. Too late to call? Probably he’d get an answering machine, which would be perfect. He could leave a message to call his office Monday morning. Nell would handle everything from there and he wouldn’t have to give the matter another thought. Good idea. He dialed the number then began going over yet another financial report on the Wallace Company as he waited for Kate Canton’s machine to pick up.

“Hello?”

A person. Adam put down the report, momentarily taken aback. “Kate Canton?” he asked.

“Yes?” Her tone turned cool, cautious.

“This is Adam Braddock.”

“Who?”

“Adam Braddock,” he repeated. “Ilsa Fairchild gave me your name.”

“Why would she do that?”

Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have called after office hours. He warmed his tone to compensate for the suspicious note in her voice. “She thought you might be able to help me. I’m sorry to phone so late in the evening, but I’m in desperate need of a party planner.”

“A what?”

Maybe Ms. Canton was a trifle hard of hearing. “A party planner. I need someone to put together a party for me.”

“You have the wrong number.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, infusing his tone with the old Braddock charm as he repeated the phone number written on the card, waited for her confirmation, then added, “And you are Kate Canton?”

“Yes, but I’m not a party planner.”

Women were so touchy about job titles these days. “Coordinator, then,” he said. “Events coordinator. And I mean for this to be quite an event. It’s in honor of my grandfather’s seventy-ninth birthday at the end of June. There’ll be somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred guests, and—”

“Two hundred,” she repeated. “That’s a lot of party hats.”

She was already calculating expenses. That was a good sign. “I’m sure you’re up to the challenge, Ms. Canton. You came highly recommended.”

“Someone recommended me to plan your birthday party?”

Hard of hearing and a little thick, too, perhaps. Or falsely modest. Or clever enough to string him along, playing hard to get. Of course, it was also just possible she was simply intimidated by the Braddock name. He’d experienced some strange reactions from people when they realized who he was and the powerful family and fortune he represented. He’d had women hang up on him from sheer nervousness. He’d known some men—and women—to pretend not to recognize the name, as if that somehow put them all on a more level playing field. Whatever Ms. Canton was experiencing, Adam was determined not to lose patience with her. He cleared his throat, dispatching any hint of impatience. “Ilsa Fairchild gave me your name and number and a favorable recommendation.”

“Mr. Braddock, you have the wrong number. I don’t know why Mrs. Fairchild gave you my number, but I’m not the person you want.”

Adam frowned. He didn’t normally have this much trouble convincing someone to work for him. “You’ll have a free hand with the plans,” he said persuasively. “And a very generous budget.”

“Money is not the point,” she responded quickly.

Money was always the point. “I realize you must be very busy and may prefer to keep your business centered in Providence, but I can assure you, Ms. Canton, that my family is not without influence in this area, and we do host a number of social events every year. I can’t guarantee your business will increase overnight because you do this one party for us, but I believe it is a great opportunity for you. Sea Change is barely a half-hour drive and I’m quite willing to compensate you for any inconvenience. I’ll make it well worth your while.”

There was a pause, a considering silence, and Adam relaxed. The tide, he suspected, was turning. “You’re offering me a great opportunity?” she repeated, a note of humor, a softer touch in her words. “To plan a party?”

“Yes.” Ms. Canton was on the hook, ready to make a deal, and Adam was suddenly, resolutely eager to cinch this one. “I haven’t much time and I understand that this is very last minute for you,” he said. “So let’s cut to the chase. What will it take to get you?”

KATIE COULDN’T DECIDE if she was more offended or flattered that Adam Braddock was so eager to get her. She remembered him from that day at the restaurant, of course, although clearly he didn’t remember her. She’d thought he was quite seriously handsome…and quite seriously underimpressed with her. He’d been a bit arrogant for her tastes, way too sure of himself to allow any woman equal footing. Something of a stuffed shirt, actually, and when a smile might have changed her mind, he’d seemed determined to keep frowning. She’d wondered at the time how—and why—the vibrant Mrs. Fairchild had hooked up with him. A family friend, she’d said, which could cover a multitude of sins. People couldn’t be held responsible for the friends someone else in their family made. But none of that explained how he’d come to have her phone number. Katie guarded the number of her cell phone—her only concession to practicality and convenience—with a religious zeal and had given it to only a handful of people in the six months she’d been living in Providence. Ilsa Fairchild might have given it out by mistake, but she wouldn’t have done so on purpose…not without clearing it with Katie first. And she definitely wouldn’t have given her a recommendation as a party planner. No one who knew Katie at all would have done that.

“There’s been a mistake, Mr. Braddock,” she began. “I’m not the person you meant to call.”

“Please, Ms. Canton, don’t be coy. I’m a busy man. The party’s only six weeks away and I don’t have the time or the inclination to track down another coordinator. Name your price and let’s get this settled.”

His tone was so serious, his manner so “Let’s Make a Deal” that Katie wanted to laugh. What kind of man got so worked up over a birthday party? A busy man. A man who made lists and marked off items with a superior sense of self-satisfaction. A man with a singular mind-set, who was completely determined to refute her every denial. “Five thousand dollars,” she said, positive he’d hang up on her faster than she could say…just kidding.

“Done.”

Katie swallowed her laughter like a big wad of chewing gum. “What?” she choked out.

“You said five thousand. I agreed.”

She thought fast. “You didn’t let me finish. It’s five thousand now and another five thousand later.” There, that should fix his wagon.

He did hesitate. “You must be very good, Ms. Canton. For that price, I’ll expect you to plan a beautiful June day into the bargain. Phone my secretary tomorrow…no, Monday morning, and she’ll make arrangements to get a deposit check to you. You’ll want to make a preliminary visit to Braddock Hall and look over the estate. Nell—my secretary—will make those arrangements as well. Just tell her when you’ll be driving down and she’ll take care of everything. Any questions?”

Are you crazy? But when Katie found her voice, she just managed to squeeze out a croaky, “I don’t drive.”

That seemed to slow him down. For about two seconds. “Then I’ll send the Rolls for you. Nell will work out the day and time with you.”

The Rolls. He would send “The Rolls” for her. Over the span of her twenty-six years, Katie had been the recipient of bus tickets, cab fares, carriage rides, even a first-class plane ticket once. But no one had ever before said, “I’ll send The Rolls for you,” as if it was the obvious, only thing to be done. “The Rolls?” she repeated.

“The chauffeur is Benson. He’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Within reason, of course.”

A Rolls-Royce with a chauffeur. Benson, the chauffeur. Anywhere she wanted to go. Within reason, of course. Of course. But it was tempting—more than tempting—to say, “hey, sure thing, send it on.” How often did a person get offered such an adventure? On the other hand, she wasn’t crazy enough to think any of this would happen. “Well,” she said. I’ll certainly look forward to that.”

“Good. I’ll tell Nell to expect your call.”

Katie sighed, wishing for the first time that Adam Braddock hadn’t gotten her number by mistake. “Yes, well, thanks for calling. Bye, now.”

“Ms. Canton?”

The authority in his voice caught her before she could hang up. “Yes?”

“You’ll need my office number.”

“Oh, right.”

He gave it to her in clipped, no-nonsense terms. “Got that?”

Right. “Sure thing,” she said.

“You’ll call Monday, and ask for Nell.”

“Nell.” Katie wrote the name in the air beside the phone number and watched it disappear. “Got it.”

“Good. Nell will get the particulars to you…date, time, guest list.” He paused.

Katie thought he must be realizing his mistake. “Having second thoughts?” she asked cheerfully.

“No. I was wondering if I should arrange to meet with you myself.”

“I know a great little restaurant downtown. The Torrid Tomato.” Her smile curved in delightful anticipation of that meeting. “I could meet you there practically any day at noon.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he said hastily. “I’m sure you’ll work out just fine.”

Okay, now she was offended. “Mr. Braddock,” she began in earnest…and was immediately interrupted.

“Adam,” he corrected. “And shall I call you Kate?”

“I prefer Katie.” No one but her dad had ever called her Kate, and she’d just as soon keep it that way. Not that Adam Braddock was apt to be calling her anything close to her name once he realized he’d offered a waitress ten thousand dollars—and the use of his Rolls-Royce—to plan a birthday party. “And we should probably stick with Mr. Braddock and Ms. Canton. Keep things strictly business, you know.”

She could imagine his frown. Adam Braddock was accustomed to getting his way. “Whatever you think, Ms. Canton. I’ll tell Nell to expect your call, first thing Monday morning.”

Katie let her widening smile carry over into her voice, coloring her words with the good humor that invariably accompanied her sense of the ridiculous. “Sure thing, Mr. Braddock. And, really, thanks a million for calling. Yours is the best offer I’ve received in months.”

Then she clicked off the cell phone, certain that was the last she’d be hearing from Adam Braddock.

Chapter Two

The cell phone rang just as Katie walked out the front door of Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow. She’d chosen the salon because it was only a short walk from the bus stop and because the name struck her as funny. And appropriate. In a couple of weeks she’d be gone, on her way to another place, a change of scene, the next new adventure of her life. She liked Providence, could see herself spending a year or two or three or more here. But the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave and there were other cities she wanted to experience, other places she wanted to see. Moving around was the way she exercised her restless spirit and kept her personality on its toes. It was the way she celebrated the lives of the family she’d lost, the way she made amends for being the only survivor. Change was always a positive in her opinion, a necessary discomfort, and in deference to that creed, her hair was gone…well, a lot of it, anyway.

The phone rang again and she pulled her curious fingers away from the springy cap of natural curls to reach into her bag for the phone. The Caller ID read Unavailable, but in some cities, the listing agency’s number came up that way and since she was expecting a call from Caroline about a house-sitting job in Baton Rouge, Katie clicked on, expecting to hear a familiar Mid-western accent. “Hello?”

“Ms. Canton?”

Definitely not Caroline—the tones too crisp and rounded—but perhaps someone else in the office. “Yes?”

“My name is Nell Russell. I work for Adam Braddock, Braddock Industries. Mr. Braddock asked me to call and arrange a time for your visit to Braddock Hall this week. He mentioned he’d spoken with you about it on Friday.”

Katie blinked, a bit taken aback by the way the woman’s voice fairly vibrated with importance every time she said Braddock. And she’d said it a lot in that five-second introduction. “As a matter of fact, he did—”

“Mr. Braddock said that if you hadn’t phoned by nine-thirty this morning, I was to reach you at this number and set up a time for Benson to drive you to Sea Change. I know it’s already ten, but I did want to catch you before you left your office for lunch.”

Katie glanced at the traffic buzzing past, the deli on the corner, the bank across the street, and opened her mouth to say she didn’t have an office. Or have need of one.

“I can arrange a time to call back later today, if it would be more convenient,” Ms. Russell continued, her voice picking up speed. “But Mr. Braddock was very specific in his instructions. It’s important that we arrange a time this week for you to visit Braddock Hall. It’s only a little over six weeks until Mr. Archer Braddock’s birthday, as I’m sure you are aware, and the sooner we get this trip scheduled, the sooner you can get your plans underway for the party.”

Katie plunged in before the last syllable cleared the airwaves. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. You see, Mr. Braddock called the wrong—”

“I understand completely,” Nell said, demonstrating that she didn’t listen any better than her employer. Or maybe she wasn’t programmed to accept any possibility that the name, Braddock, and the word, mistake, could occur in the same conversation. “I know you’re very busy, Ms. Canton, and I’ll be brief. I’ve been instructed by Mr. Braddock to put Benson and the Rolls at your disposal and accommodate your schedule for any day this week you’re available. If it would be of any assistance at all, I’m certain Mr. Braddock wouldn’t mind if I helped make the calls necessary to shift your appointments and clear some time on your calendar. So is tomorrow possible for you? Or the day after?”

Katie stepped to the curb, out of the flow of pedestrian traffic, and pressed the phone closer to her ear to cut some of the noise. Although why she should be trying so hard to hear, was difficult to say. A chance to explain the misunderstanding didn’t appear to be on the agenda as Nell Russell barely paused for breath. “Thursday would work almost as well as tomorrow, but Friday is late in the week and the traffic is just terrible and with Mr. Bryce Braddock and Mr. Peter Braddock home for the weekend, I’m afraid you’ll run into more distractions than earlier in the week, but if that’s the only day you can schedule the visit, we will, of course, accommodate you.”

There was a pause, and Katie jumped in, her sense of the ridiculous rising to the occasion. It wasn’t as if anyone was listening to what she said anyway. “As luck would have it, today’s my only free day, so you see, I won’t be able to make that trip after all.”

“Today might work,” Nell said, a lightbulb of possibility going off in her voice. “Hold a moment, please.”

Faster than Katie could backtrack and say, Oh, wait, today won’t work, she was on hold and wondering why she hadn’t specified that today wasn’t even up for consideration. She should just hang up. But Adam Braddock had no doubt instructed his secretary to keep calling until Katie agreed to go.

So why didn’t she? Agree to go, that is. It was her day off and she’d never been to the town of Sea Change, never even heard of it until Adam’s call. She’d never been invited to tour a house with a name, either. That might be fun. Plus, there was the ride in the Rolls to sweeten the temptation.

“Ms. Canton?” Nell was back. “Are you in town, now?”

Hard to deny, since the traffic noise was all around her. “Yes, but—”

“Wonderful. If you’ll give me your directions, Benson will pick you up within the next thirty minutes, drive you to the estate and bring you back this evening. I’m so glad this has worked out. Mr. Braddock would be most upset if we’d failed to make this connection. He’s anxious for you to see Braddock Hall. It’s a lovely place and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the drive down, as well as touring the grounds. This is a good time for you, then?”

Katie debated with her conscience. She would be going under false premises, true. But she hadn’t misled anyone and she had tried to correct the misunderstanding. While only a precocious preteen, she’d adopted the physicians’ creed of First, Do No Harm as her own…and really, what harm could there be in her going for a drive with Benson in the Rolls? Adam Braddock was no closer to finding a legitimate party planner whether she took a ride in his car or not. And she could always figure out some way to pay Benson for the gas. She knew she’d regret not taking the chance and, when all was said and done, her main goal in living was to end every day with as few regrets as possible.

“Now is the perfect time for me,” she said, decision made. “Tell Benson, I’ll be waiting on the corner of—” She glanced up at the street signs, “Weybosset and Orange whenever he arrives. And thank you.” Katie clicked off the phone, dropped it into the depths of her bag, and gave her new crop of curls a saucy toss to shake off the nagging voice of reproach.

Okay, so she could have, probably should have, tried harder to explain. But life was short and she’d vowed to experience all that it offered with her chin up, and her hopes high. She owed that much to the family she’d lost so long ago that she couldn’t even remember their smiles. She owed that much and more to the lost little girl she once had been. To live every moment as if it were a gift was the only promise she’d ever made to herself…and right or wrong, she was taking a ride in Adam Braddock’s Rolls-Royce. She was going to enjoy every moment of the experience, too. And if tomorrow it still seemed necessary, she’d do her penance by looking up party planners in the Yellow Pages and phoning Nell with a selection of names and phone numbers. It was the least she could do.

Someone in the milling crowd jostled her as the light changed from Don’t Walk to Walk. As people moved past her into the crosswalk, busy with their own agendas, she backed up to the wall of the building on the corner and allowed her lips a whimsical grin. Anticipation bubbled inside her, and she felt a little sorry for anyone who wasn’t her, standing on the corner of Weybosset and Orange, waiting for the Rolls to come for her.

SO MUCH FOR ANTICIPATION, she thought as she stepped into the back of the silver-gray automobile and came face-to-face with Adam Braddock. What the heck was he doing here? And what would she say when he demanded to know what a waitress was doing climbing into his Rolls-Royce?

“Ms. Canton? I’m Adam Braddock,” he said, glancing up and extending his hand over the top of the small computer on his lap. “So nice to meet you.”

“Hello,” she said, realizing he hadn’t recognized her. Yet. The door closed behind her with a sturdy ka-thud and as it was too late to make a run for it, she settled onto the seat with a soft, leathery sshhplop, and returned his solid handshake with a limp-wrist brush of her fingers. “Nice car.”

His handsome face barely registered a vague smile before his eyes were back on the computer screen. “I’m glad you were able to make the trip to Braddock Hall on such short notice.”

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“It’s an unexpected trip.” He frowned at the computer screen and typed in a response.

Katie fidgeted on the seat, wishing he’d recognize her and get it over with, thinking this car seat was made of the softest leather ever to come into contact with her own seat, wondering if there was any way she could get out of this situation gracefully. “Sort of unexpected or really unexpected?”