Authors: Emma Carr
He put his car in gear and headed for Soho.
Somehow he had to convince her to help him–the man who’d inadvertently broken up with her less than an hour after they’d made love.
And blamed her for things she had no control over. And then kicked her out of his house.
Could this night get any worse?
Chapter Thirteen
Aimee whirled at the feel of someone’s grip on her arm. She raised her knee to hit back, but stopped herself just in time. It was Simon. On second thought….
“What do you want?” she asked. Surely he wasn’t here to be her banker again. He had his event tonight.
“I know I don’t deserve your compassion, especially after my behavior this morning, but I need your help.” He was rubbing his hands together like a little kid, and his hair was completely mussed. “The caterer didn’t show.”
Aimee dropped the cupcake she was holding. This night meant everything to Simon. Without the caterer, it would be a total bust. “What do you want me to do?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Can you make the food? Lucy can serve and I’m going to do what I can for the alcohol, but we need someone to cook. I know that you probably won’t want to help me after I treated you so abominably this morning, but it would mean everything to me if you would help me out. I’d owe you. I’ll even pay you if you do this for me. Just name your price.”
Simon stood before her, his head low and submissive. His face was like glass–one word from her and it would shatter into shards of defeat. Aimee couldn’t stand to see him this way. She felt like the Grinch when his heart grew three sizes. Without a doubt, she loved this man. Every domineering, argumentative, and stubborn bit of him. The disagreement from this morning meant nothing, because she loved him and would do anything for him, even if he gave her nothing back.
“Please, Aimee. Whatever your price is, I’ll pay it.”
“I won’t take anything.”
His shoulders slumped. “So I can’t convince you?”
“Of course not.” She grabbed the handle of the luggage cart and flipped it around. “I don’t need convincing. Let’s go.”
Simon stared at her with his jaw slack and arms immobile at his sides.
“You’re helping me?”
“Of course.” She spied his car parked illegally on the curb at the end of the street and started walking. When he caught up, she got down to business.
“What is Lucy buying?”
“I don’t know. Food for hors d’oeuvres?” He took her cupcakes and put them in the back seat. They both got into the car, but he didn’t start it right away. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but thank you. You’re saving me. And I owe you.”
Aimee shook her head. She’d do anything for him. Not only was he funny and sweet, but he was adventurous and most important–he believed in her.
He’d given her back her hope in herself. In her chances for a real life filled with meaningful relationships. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t tasted anything.”
He tossed his cell phone to her before he started the engine and put the car in gear. “Call Lucy and tell her what you need.”
They raced home while she and Lucy talked through their ideas.
Fortunately, Aimee had worked as a banquet waitress at the University of Washington, so she had some ideas for passed hors d’oeuvres. If only she could pull them off. She hung up with Lucy, and they raced like turtles through the crowded streets, while Aimee ran through her recipe ideas in her head.
Lucy met them at the door, bags of groceries at her feet. “The alcohol is in the boot of my car,” she said. Simon headed for her car.
Aimee piled several bags on her luggage cart, and they headed inside, only to be met by Alistair Sharpe from the other day. Her stomach dropped to the floor. It could all be over.
“Change of plans?” he asked.
Aimee swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes.”
He raised an eyebrow in question. He could be related to Simon with that eyebrow raise.
“The caterer didn’t show,” she said. He was already going to see that she was cooking. Better to be upfront about it and get arrested now. “I’m helping.”
“I need to check your packages,” he said.
That was it? He had to check their packages? All that worry–and that terrible argument with Simon–and he just wanted to check her packages?
She wanted to laugh at herself for thinking she was so much more important than she was.
Alistair searched through the sacks while Lucy tapped her foot impatiently. As soon as he cleared the groceries, Lucy ran them down to the kitchen. Bottles clanked on the front porch, but Simon didn’t come in.
“They’re fairy cakes,” Aimee said while Alistair opened up each of her boxes.
“Yes, I know.” He didn’t change his expression, but she thought she saw him close his eyes at the scent of the chocolate.
“Do you want one?” she asked.
“I’m on duty.”
“I’ll put one aside for you then.” She thought she saw an answering smile by the quick upturn of his lips, but she could have imagined it. Whatever she did, she had to keep this guy on her side. She grabbed her boxes and ran downstairs to the kitchen.
The kitchen was a wreck, with groceries everywhere, plates stacked on the counters, and glasses all over the place. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. All she had to do was make live star appetizers in less than an hour for the most high-class customers of her life.
Her hands started shaking.
Dottie greeted another of her friends with fake smile and a kiss. “Hello, Marjorie.”
“So glad to see you out and about again after everything,” Marjorie said.
Dottie gritted her teeth into a smile. Leave it to good old Marjorie to gloss over Gordy’s death with a flit of the hand. I m here for my nephew.”
“Yes, well, now that you’re active again, we desperately need your help.
Fanny Holmes-Strong ordered the invitations for the Winter Tea on black cardstock! And Julia Winthrop-Brown is ready to quit because no one seems to be taking her seriously.” Marjorie leaned in and whispered, “She’s very upset because there was extra dip left over after the Children’s Hospital Luncheon, which she thought meant there should have been more biscuits brought out, because of course if there were extra biscuits, there would have been no leftover dip, and someone is not ordering correctly and everyone should be satisfied after paying so much for a luncheon.” Marjorie sighed.
“We need you back. You always know how to handle these sorts of issues.”
Dottie responded the exact way she had been responding all night. “Oh, that’s terrible. Unfortunately, I’m still not quite ready to go back to everything. I’ll give you a ring when I’m up to it.” Which would be never. She was through wasting her life with petty arguments and boring luncheons.
“Well, I assumed you were ready given that you were dating again.”
Marjorie tilted her eyes in William’s direction. “Good job snatching that one before someone else does. Very smart of you.”
“We’re not dating,” she blurted. No one had had the guts to ask her about William yet. They’d come to the party together. That was all. She was taking the train home and planned to be in bed–alone–by midnight. “We’re just friends.”
“Really?” Marjorie turned a speculative eye in William’s direction. “I know quite a few ladies who will be pleased about that.” She turned back to face Dottie. “Ring me, dear, when you are ready to get back in the saddle again.” Then she raced off to tell whoever was interested that Dottie and William were not a couple.
Dottie tamped down her jealousy. She did not want to be with William.
She’d merely accepted a ride from an old friend to a party they were both attending. She hadn’t even seen him since he dropped her at home the other day. Besides, she never wanted to reenter society with the Marjories and Julias and Fannys. She wanted to be herself for once in her life. Follow her own schedule, her own dreams, her own passions. Whatever they turned out to be.
Unfortunately, William was a part of this world. Even right now, he was talking to several gentlemen from the House of Lords and had them in stitches listening to whatever story he was telling. If she wanted to be with William–and she didn’t–she would have to rejoin society. And there was no way that was ever going to happen.
One of the Lords leaned in to tell William something. While he listened with one ear, William’s eyes found hers, and the heat in them almost made her knees buckle. Oh dear God. She was way too old for this.
William nodded at whatever the man was saying, slapped him on the shoulder, and then made his way towards Dottie. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He looked dashing in his tux. Why did men always look so great with gray hair, while women had to dye their hair to oblivion? And why was he still so lit? He was supposed to be paunchy like all the rest of her male acquaintances.
William placed his hand on her arm. His touch was so gentle that she might not have felt it save for the shiver that traveled all the way up her arm.
His breath tickled her ear. “Let’s go back to my place after this.”
Yes. The word was there on the tip of her tongue. Marjorie waved at her from the other side of the room. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Not with you.”
And then she fled before he could see the tears shining in her eyes.
Aimee blew an errant lock of hair out of her face, ran to the oven to remove the French bread toasts, and hurried back to the stove to flip her grilled brie sandwiches. Some of the cranberry chutney dribbled onto the hot metal, and she scooped it up before it blackened the bottom of the pan. She didn’t have time to wash anything between tasks.
“You!” someone said from behind her. “What are you doing here? I thought Simon had got rid of you.”
Aimee turned her head. Simon’s dad stood in the kitchen. Not only did he look shocked, but angry too.
Great. Just what she needed. She turned back to the stove. “I’m cooking.”
“After everything I just did to clean up this mess. And William is here. If he finds you working here, all hell will break loose. What was Simon thinking?”
“He already knows. Dottie brought William down here earlier.” Dottie had been great. She swooped in, gave everyone a task, and swept right out.
Everything had been running smoothly since then. “What mess are you talking about?” She didn’t have time to clean anything up right now.
“Not that William. Prince William. And you are the mess I’m talking about. I can’t trust Simon to do anything right.”
Aimee choked and she didn’t even have anything in her mouth! Prince William was here? In this house? She knew that someone from the royal family was attending, but she assumed it was some ancient aunt or cousin.
Not friggin Prince William! She put her hand up to her hair. Oh God! She had a dish towel tied around her head to keep her hair back. And her face had to be glistening from the heat of the stove. She needed a mirror.
“That’s right. Now there’s an even wealthier fish for you to catch.” His dad came round to her side of the kitchen island. “I know your type. Out for the richest man you can find. And while my son has been captivated by your charms, I’m right certain you are not the prince’s type.” Was he crazy? Aimee was pretty certain the prince wasn’t looking for a wife, since he already had one. “And there is no way I’m going to let you get your claws into any of my fortune. You’re trouble. And I’m through cleaning up after you.”
“Cleaning up after me?”
“You’re dirtier than dirt.”
If she’d been harboring any thoughts that she and Simon had a future, it was pretty clear they had no chance. From everything she’d seen so far, Simon’s need for his dad’s approval outweighed any other consideration.
He’d do what his dad wanted. Although why Simon wanted this jerk’s approval was beyond her. He didn’t even consider all of Simon’s efforts at making the bank a success and referred to the money as his money, not Simon’s. That was a no-win situation for Simon, but there was no way he’d ever see that. And some small part of her wanted his dad’s approval because it meant so much to Simon.
“Get your things. You’re leaving,” he said.
Aimee shook her head. “No way. Without me, there’s no food for this stupid event.” She’d never do that to Simon.
“You’re leaving. If anyone discovers we hired an illegal to serve the prince, it would be all over.”
Aimee started taking the grilled cheeses out of the pan. “I’m not getting paid. So there’s nothing illegal about it.”
“And what about the fairy cakes you’ve been selling on the street? Have you got a permit for that?”
Aimee dropped the pan on the stove. “How did you find out?”
“Did you think the Private Detective was stupid? He followed Simon tonight and figured it out. And I had to clean up the mess. Fortunately, the private detective was amenable to a large payment.”
Aimee clutched her throat. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She’d almost ruined Simon’s chances with the royal family–and his chance to prove himself to his dad.
If she left now, the party would go down the tubes and he couldn’t afford that either. She couldn’t leave, not when it seemed like everything had been hushed up.
“And now you’re serving the prince. Simon is an idiot. And you’re just a slut out for what you can get. You’re not getting paid now because you’re waiting for what you will get in the future,” he said. “I’ve got your number. I know you better than you know yourself.”
She’d had enough. No more trying to placate his dad. She and Simon didn’t have a chance anyway, so she might as well say what she really wanted to say. Aimee turned the gas off the grill and turned to face him. “You don’t even remotely have my number. If anyone’s out for what Simon can give them it’s you!”
He laughed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So you aren’t dangling the bank in front of him so he’ll work his fingers to the bone making the bank a success? You have no intention of giving him control.” She crossed her arms. “If anyone deserves anything in this scenario, it’s Simon. You should be thanking him for everything he’s sacrificed for you.”