They’d agreed to pass the hat at future events that were equally important, so she’d prefer not to use them now. Larry Smith was the vice president of Professionals for Business Growth, hence his suitability tonight. Perhaps all wasn’t lost if he’d sent a replacement.
“I want to talk to Larry Smith’s son,” Lisa said suddenly. “Maybe his father told him what’s going on. Where is he?”
“He’s the hot one by the door, talking to the woman with the silver hair and glittery red dress. You can’t miss him. I told you there’d be single guys here tonight.”
Lisa couldn’t care less about the younger Smith’s marital status. She trained her gaze across the wide expanse of the ballroom. Hot one by the door? Mere seconds elapsed before she located the man to whom Andrea referred. Even from across the room, his magnetism commanded. The guy defined tall, dark and handsome.
She could tell he wore custom tailoring, he was at least six feet tall and he had a full head of dark, silky hair. Her breath lodged in her throat as he laughed at something someone in the small circle surrounding him said. He reminded her of the man from the funeral.
No wonder Larry Smith’s son had such a multiage group of ladies crowding about. The man knew how to exude sex appeal. But none of that mattered to Lisa, not when her evening, her career and five hundred thousand dollars were at stake.
“I’ve spotted him,” Lisa told Andrea via the headset. “I’m making my way over there now.”
“I’ll handle him if you’d like,” Andrea said hopefully.
“I’ve got it,” Lisa commanded. “Hey, the St. Louis County executive is coming through the doorway.”
Andrea sighed her disappointment. “I’m on it.”
Lisa wove her way across the ballroom. Her target grew larger than life as she closed in, and she could see his hair wasn’t one solid color: the ballroom chandeliers illuminated natural highlights that lacked any hint of early gray.
Close-up, the man was even more impressive, with wide shoulders and narrow hips. Lisa predicted that under his perfectly pressed shirt there was probably a washboard stomach without an ounce of fat. Even from behind she could tell he was the entire package: the gorgeous, moneyed exterior and the type of male physique that, when naked, was every woman’s fantasy.
Lisa swallowed and reminded herself that, like this morning, she didn’t have time for fantasies or dalliances, even if the man was so gorgeous he made Tom Cruise and Colin Farrell look ugly.
Besides, she hadn’t had much appetite for a social life this past year. Concentrating on her career was much smarter than embarking on another futile search for a man. Lisa wasn’t a woman who had an issue with sleeping alone. This situation was nothing she couldn’t control. “Mr. Smith?”
He turned, leveling a dark brown gaze at her.
Lisa froze as her breath lodged in her throat.
Damn. How dare the fates be unkind? Come on, what were the odds? St. Louis had well over a million people. Smith was a common last name. Everyone called his dad Bud, not Larry. But the memory raced back, proving that eight years was not enough time. How dare it be…him.
Chapter Two
“Lisa?”
She swallowed once and plastered on her most professional and courteous smile. “Hello, Mark.”
Those brown bedroom eyes widened at the fact it was her, and Lisa forced herself to act aloof, unaffected. She already knew what he saw: a woman in a demure cocktail dress designed to downplay any sexiness, and sensible designer heels that added only an inch to her height. A thin wire headset with an earpiece wove its way through her blond updo, and she’d lowered the mouthpiece toward her collarbone.
She held her own, refusing to deviate from her mission. “You’re here as a stand-in for your father, I believe?”
“Yes,” he replied, his intense gaze roving over her as if imprinting this moment onto his memory. Despite her resolve, she flushed slightly as he finished his appraisal. He frowned suddenly. “I saw you at the funeral this morning, didn’t I?”
She took a breath and admitted, “Yes. My aunt’s cousin.”
“Marvin Albertson,” Mark said, his tone holding a slight edge of something indecipherable.
“Yes.”
His voice dropped. “Well, imagine that. Fate is certainly interesting, isn’t she?”
“Very,” Lisa said, quite aware that the well-dressed women surrounding him wore intrigued expressions as they listened to the odd conversation.
As if she’d tell them the whole story. That Mark Smith, ultimate playboy, made out with her in a hallway during his sister’s wedding reception but then dumped her for someone else. Mark always did run through women like water and he’d proven that Lisa was no exception.
She blinked. She was older and wiser. She met hundreds of people a week and kept copious notes written on the backs of business cards and Rolodex files. Being in town only a week, she hadn’t yet looked up Joann’s parents, Mary Beth and Bud. Lisa curbed her sigh. Even though she’d given Andrea loose rein, Lisa was ultimately responsible for tonight’s dinner. She hadn’t double-checked the guest list, a mistake for which she didn’t have time to berate herself. Not when she had an evening to salvage.
“Mark, while it’s good to see you again, would you mind if we spoke in private for a minute? I’m Herbert Usher’s campaign fund-raiser and I need your help.”
His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, indicating he’d understood that her crisp, professional tone meant she didn’t want to reminisce. His navy-blue suit moved effortlessly, indicative of its custom tailoring. This man did not buy off the rack.
“I don’t see why not,” Mark agreed. He gestured a manicured hand toward the exit door. “Lead the way. Excuse me,” he said to the ladies.
“Thank you,” Lisa said, ignoring the women’s collective exhales of disappointed curiosity. A prickle, however, ran up her spine as she led him out the ballroom doors. She could feel his gaze glued to her backside. “We have a small office set up in here.”
She began to open the door that led to a smaller meeting room, but his powerful arm extended past hers and pushed the door inward. His proximity provided a whiff of subtle cologne. He smelled divine—whatever designer brand he wore had blended with the smell of his skin to create a musky, sensual scent all his own.
Whoa. She could not allow herself to be affected. The man was a first-class jerk.
“Thank you,” she said politely, stepping past him with an outward composure she’d long mastered and at this moment certainly needed to hide her inner shaking. Mark Smith oozed pheromones or something, for he’d caused her body to react, which hadn’t happened since…well, since that night at Joann’s wedding. Her only solace was that no one had seen the kiss, and she’d never told a soul of her humiliating moment.
Lisa wasn’t one of those people who liked to air her stupidity and failures like dirty laundry.
She
