Mia could think of the right excuse, Lorraine continued in an giddy rush, “International real-estate connections, ones with very deep pockets.”
Mia frowned. It didn’t sound like Lorraine was describing Senator Penz. Thankfully the woman kept dropping those juicy hints.
“This connection is, as I hear it, very distinguished, cosmopolitan and charming. A man who rose above his juicy, scandalous family. In other words, just the kind of guest to add such a delicious panache to my ball.”
Ahhh.
Not her uncle. Mia was torn between relief and frustration as she realized whom Lorraine meant.
“Santiago Acosta?” Why was everyone bringing up Alcosta today? “I’m not sure he’d be available at such short notice. I do know a number of other people we could invite, though. Dignitaries, celebrities, even politicians.”
“No, no, no. It has to be Alcosta. Everybody has been talking about him at the club, but he’s not taking invitations. He even turned down the Grangers.”
He did? The Grangers counted a congressman, a US diplomat and a Tony winner among their numbers. They were a group high on Mia’s event-organizing wish list.
“But if I could put word out that Alcosta is attending the gala, attendance will go through the roof. And by attendance, I mean donations, of course.”
“Of course.” Mia blew out a breath. “Let me see what I can do.”
“I knew I could count on you, Mia. You are so efficient and dependable. Your association with influential people like Alcosta does carry a lot of weight in considering you for my biggest events,” Lorraine declared before saying goodbye.
Mia hung up with a sigh.
To pull off getting a man like Alcosta on board—to say nothing of getting the man’s business—meant doing something Mia abhorred. Something she’d vowed to avoid at all costs.
Using a friend.
Her family was big on offering help and opinions, and thanks to years of military service all over the world, it had tons of connections. All of which she’d availed herself of when she’d started out.
But her brother-in-law’s bookkeeper pal had garnered her penalties by forgetting to file quarterly taxes. Her sister’s BFF snuck a strip show into a simple fund-raiser for firefighters. And her parents’ start-up loan offer had come with so many strings, Mia would have owed them 50 percent of her profits, along with her firstborn, before she’d have been able to untangle the mess.
Half the setbacks and problems she’d had with her business were thanks to her family’s “help.” Which was just one of the reasons why Mia now insisted on doing it all on her own. She’d even refused her uncle’s offer to bring her onto his senatorial staff for a year so she could garner government creds, something that might have gone a long way toward making her job easier.
For Mia, asking for favors for charity was simple. But asking for personal ones was akin to being poked in the eye with a burning stick, since no personal favor came without a few sticky strings.
The trick was going to be asking Jessica for help without making it obvious that she needed it.
“Why the long face?”
Speak of the devil.
Jessica Alexander posed in the doorway. The petite, curvaceous blonde looked like a cross between a china doll and a centerfold.
Mia shot a fast glance at the clock in the corner of her computer screen to make sure she hadn’t lost a few hours. Nope, only one o’clock in the afternoon.
But like Mia, Jessica didn’t have normal work hours. As an administrative assistant to Señor Alcosta, some days her roommate was home at five o’clock, some she waltzed in at two o’clock in the afternoon and others still she swept out at nine o’clock at night, wearing evening wear.
Their work schedules—or lack thereof—was pretty much the end of the similarity between the two women.
Despite measuring in at a lean five foot ten, Mia knew her sharp features gave her the look of a fairy. She wore her ebony hair in a pixie cut, the long bangs sweeping in a curve over eyes the color of bittersweet chocolate. She leaned toward textured fabrics, rich colors and avant-garde jewelry.
Jessica, on the other hand, was petite and built with enviously lush curves. She accented her fluff of blond curls, cornflower-blue eyes and a Cupid’s bow mouth with delicate fabrics in pastels and lace, skyscraper heels, and—in her only departure from her baby-doll style—flashy diamonds.
They were complete opposites in every other way, too. Mia was quiet. Jessica was flirtatious. Mia had cut her teeth on diplomacy. Jessica thrived on excitement. Mia was an introvert who loved nothing better than peace and quiet; Jessica was an extrovert who needed crowds and noise and attention. Jessica reveled in a secret love affair, sharing every detail—every detail—but the man’s name, while Mia had no more interest in a relationship than she had in dancing naked over hot coals.
And yet somehow they’d become friends. And despite Mia’s family’s concerns, she thought Jessica was good for her. The other woman brought spice and energy and excitement into her life, something she hadn’t realized was missing until she and Jessica had run into each other on the street two months ago.
It’d been the first the women had seen of each other since they’d attended the same boarding school. She’d been surprised Jessica even remembered, let alone recognized, her. But Jessica had swept her into a hug, taken her to lunch and—as soon as she’d found out Mia had a two-bedroom apartment—begged to move in for a few months.
“I thought you were working today,” she said as Jessica leaned one arm against the doorframe and propped the other on her tiny waist.
“I decide to take a half day,” Jessica said in a husky voice that made men melt. “Fridays should always be half days, don’t you think? Besides, I have a date tonight.”
Jessica hadn’t lived here long, but Mia knew from experience that a date night meant spa time, a Victoria’s Secret binge and a juicy morning-after story hot enough to singe Mia’s imagination.
What must it be like to have that kind of love life? Mia wondered. Incendiary passion, breathtaking excitement. Heck, she’d take enduring interest, something she’d yet to have with a man, much to her mother’s disgust.
“You didn’t answer my question.” At Mia’s frown, Jessica added, “Why the long face?”
Mia thought of Lorraine’s mandate that she get Santiago Alcosta to attend the gala. The best way to get something done was straight out, her father always said. Just do it, find it or ask for it.
She opened her mouth to do just that.
“Just thinking about the business of, well, my business,” Mia heard herself saying instead. “I have three smaller events this week to deal with, plus the gala next weekend, and I still need to find an assistant.”
Preferably an assistant who thought raising funds for charity itself was an ample paycheck.
“I can help you out,” Jessica offered, crossing the kitchen to
