After the Party (6 page)

“Don’t apologize. I understand. He’s family and you love him. Naturally, you’re angry on his behalf. It hurts to watch someone we care about suffer.”

From her tone it was clear she was speaking from personal experience, which made it easier for Chase to be blunt. “My uncle is making a mistake with this party.”

“Wake, you mean.”

“Exactly my point.” Chase rubbed his forehead. “The message he’s sending to the board, to the shareholders and to his competitors is that he’s giving up without a fight.”

“And you think it will give credence to the rumors about his...erratic behavior and forgetfulness,” she finished diplomatically.

“It certainly won’t help.”

“From what I read, your uncle has a reputation for being eccentric. People have come to expect that.”

“But an Irish wake...” He sipped more wine. God, the stuff really was nasty.

“Are you asking me
not
to take him on as a client?”

As much as he wanted to tell her yes, Chase shook his head. “No. That decision is my uncle’s.”

“I’m glad you see it that way. Besides, he seems adamant about going ahead with it. If I don’t plan his wake, someone else will.”

Since she’d presented Chase with the opening, he took it. “About that. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“After speaking to my uncle the other day, you must know this is a large undertaking.”

She blew out a breath. “Huge.”

“Yes. And since his guests will include business rivals and members of the media, well, it’s imperative this go off as smoothly as possible.”

“I agree.”

“Then you will understand that I must ask, what are your credentials?”

“My credentials.”

“In the elevator the other day, you mentioned something about your business being a new endeavor. You aren’t the only one to do an internet search. After the meeting in my uncle’s office, I did one of event planning services in the city. I couldn’t find anything on yours.”

Uh-oh.

Ella swallowed and it was all she could do to keep a smile plastered on her face.

“I’m relatively new at this,” she admitted.

“Yes, so I gathered. Can you tell me a little bit about your background?”

“Well, I have a bachelor’s degree from New York University,” she began. She should have stopped there. He appeared suitably impressed until she added, “In fashion merchandising.”

“Fashion?”

“Merchandising,” she added. “It’s the business side of fashion.”

“And now you plan parties for a living.”

He scratched his cheek, looking as if he were having a hard time connecting the dots. She thought it best not to mention the role Madame Maroushka had played in this particular career move.

“How many parties have you planned?”

“The actual number?”

Chase nodded.

“Hmm. Let’s see...” She tapped a finger to her lips, wondering if she should include the surprise party she’d helped throw for her friend Sandra when they were seventeen. That would make...one. Where Ella had attended scores of major galas, balls and bashes over the years, she’d never been in on the actual planning.

“Feel free to ballpark it,” he told her when the silence stretched.

She decided to come clean. It was easier to do since they’d already established that keeping her on the job was his uncle’s call.

“Here’s the thing. I haven’t actually
planned
any big parties. Yet.”

Chase had been lounging against her wall, and looking pretty damned good there, too. Even better than the collection of designer scarves that hung just to his left. Upon hearing her answer, he levered away from the chipped plaster so abruptly that wine sloshed over the rim of his glass and splattered on the white area rug under his feet.

He muttered an oath, whether because of the stain or her lack of party-planning experience she couldn’t be sure.

“Sorry,” he said.

Now Ella wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for the mess he’d made or the curse.

“That’s all right.” She figured the response covered all of the bases.

She set her own glass aside and went to get a dishcloth from the sink. When she returned, Chase surprised her by taking it from her hand and crouching down to scrub the stain himself. She crouched next to him, balancing on the balls of her bare feet.

“It’s better to blot it,” she told him.

Intending to show him what she meant, Ella reached for the dishcloth. But when her hand touched his and their gazes connected, his expression changed and she swore the air grew charged. She knew that look. She’d seen a couple versions of it on his face already. Once in the elevator right after they met and earlier when she’d opened her apartment door. Those had been tame in comparison. He was interested in more than her party-planning skills. Or lack of them. He wanted to kiss her, possibly more. The thought had a few places on her body starting to tighten and tingle.

The smart thing would have been to push to her feet and pretend she hadn’t noticed his interest. Yep, that would have been the smart thing, all right. Except Ella had never been accused of playing it smart, so she leaned forward until their breaths mingled and she could feel the warmth that radiated from his body. On a groan, Chase closed the miniscule gap that remained.

One moment his hands were holding the damp dishrag. The next, the rag was history and his palms were on either side of Ella’s face, holding her steady even as his mouth rocked her world. If the man could have that effect with his tongue, she could only imagine what he would be capable of using other parts of his anatomy.

And she’d thought she was over her head when it came to party planning.

The kiss ended. Chase pulled away slowly. Ella blinked, trying to clear her head, and then said the first thing that came to mind.

“Wow.”

Okay, so she wasn’t exactly articulate when she was turned on.

Chase said nothing. He looked slightly annoyed, whether with her or himself, she couldn’t be sure. He placed his hands on his thighs and pushed to his feet. Once he’d risen to his full height, he looked like the no-nonsense, high-powered executive he was.

“I didn’t stop by to kiss you.”

Ella straightened.

“I didn’t think you had.” Still, she’d considered it a happy bonus.

But there was nothing “happy” about Chase’s expression.

“I don’t make it a habit to kiss women I barely know.”

How to respond to that? She decided on, “I didn’t mind.”

He tossed the verbal equivalent of a bucket of ice water in her face when he replied, “But I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Then why did you?” she asked baldly.

“I...” He shook his head and demanded, “Does my uncle know that you’ve never planned a party?”

Back to that. Damn. “It hasn’t come up.”

“Well, that’s convenient.”

“Hey!” she protested. “
He
called me.”

“Only because he received your business card, and on that card it says you are a professional. Yet you have no experience, no specialized training, since I doubt a degree in fashion merchandising counts.” He glanced around her apartment and made a scoffing noise. “You don’t even have a proper office.”

“I could tell you that plenty of people work from home these days. I’m sure a man in your position has heard of telecommuting. I could tell you that what I lack in experience, I make up for in enthusiasm.” She folded her arms over her chest, torn between feeling self-conscious and righteously indignant. Indignation won, and so she finished with, “But I’m wondering what I did to tick you off just now.”

His eyes widened. Ella doubted many people called Chase Trumbull on the carpet. Or the wine-stained area rug, as the case may be.

“I... You...” He closed his mouth and his lips thinned into a flat line.

She liked them better when they were loose and limber...and on hers.

Since those two sputtered pronouns were all she was likely to get out of him, she continued. “I may be new at planning parties, but I’ve attended a lot of them. I know what makes for a fun and memorable evening. I know what people like.”

“El...Miss Sanborn.”

“After that kiss, I think we’re on a first-name basis,” she told him dryly and had the satisfaction of seeing him flush.

“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. Entertaining several hundred guests will not be easy. You can’t just tap a few kegs of beer, throw some pretzels into bowls and bring out the board games.”

“Gee, and that was my plan.” Anger joined ranks with indignation.

“I don’t mean to be condescending.”

“It’s just a side benefit.”

His eyes narrowed. “We’re talking about a massive undertaking that even a veteran planner would have a hard time coordinating. Caterers, florists, servers, bartenders, tents, tables, chairs, a sound system and entertainment, cleaning services and waste removal.” He ticked off a list that, okay, was way more comprehensive than the one Ella already had assembled, before demanding, “What sorts of contacts do you have in these areas?”

“I know some people.” Actually, her former stepmother knew those people. Camilla had enjoyed throwing lavish parties while she’d been married to Ella’s dad. She still enjoyed throwing those parties, only now a different husband picked up the tab. Ella didn’t feel the need to draw the distinction now. But she wanted to leave Chase feeling reassured. “I won’t pretend to have all of the answers, but what I don’t know I will make it my mission to learn and figure out. I’m very resourceful.”

Chase sighed.

“I believe you mean that, Ella.” His voice lowered, turned soft. She preferred his anger to patronization, and that’s what this was. “But my uncle cannot afford to be your training ground. Too much is at stake right now. He needs someone who knows what she’s doing. Not someone who will be learning as she goes.”

Ella swallowed. She hated that what he said made sense. What choice did she have but to agree?

“I’ll tender my resignation and suggest he find someone else.”

Because her eyes had begun to burn with tears, she turned away from him, forgetting about the glass of wine that she’d set on the floor next to the futon. The coin-size splash of merlot Chase had made on the white rug was nothing in comparison to the crimson tide she’d just unleashed.

“God! This is a mess,” she cried.

He found the dishcloth and stepped around her. “It might come out.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Ella had bigger problems than a ruined rug. She had to return the sizable check Elliot had given her as a deposit, which meant she couldn’t pay her rent or catch up on her other bills.

And then there was Chase, the man who had just kissed her with far more passion than she would have guessed lurked beneath such a reserved exterior. Would she see him again? It wasn’t likely.

“I’m sorry, Ella. Really.” He set down the rag and started for the door.

She waited until she heard it click shut to let her tears fall.

FOUR

Chase felt awful.
He’d left Ella with a mess on her hands in more ways than one. It was obvious that she needed the income from planning a big party. Even more than that, she needed the experience. One big-name client to use as a reference could make her as a party planner in Manhattan.

If so much weren’t on the line, he wouldn’t have strong-armed her into quitting. He consoled himself with the fact that she understood his motive. But as consolations went, it was paltry, which was why her defeated expression haunted him that night.

Their kiss in her apartment stayed with him, too.

It wasn’t like Chase to mix business with pleasure. And that kiss definitely rated as pleasure. As much as he might wish he would have met Ella Sanborn under different circumstances, there was no denying his interest. Everything about her had him intrigued, starting with her dual eye color and disparate dimples.

She didn’t stop by to see Elliot the following day as Chase expected. Or the next. Had she changed her mind? Was she reneging? For that matter, she’d never signed the confidentiality agreement that had been his reason for dropping in on her in the first place. He’d left it in her possession, forgot about it entirely after that kiss.

By Friday night, he gave in to his curiosity and called her. He had no idea what he would say when she came on the line. That, too, wasn’t like him. Chase usually planned ahead and then followed those plans to the letter. He didn’t go off half-cocked. That was Uncle Elliot’s specialty.

It didn’t take a psychology degree to figure out that growing up under Elliot’s scattered if loving influence had caused Chase to crave structure, so much so that once he was able to, he’d created it for himself. Some might say he’d gone a little overboard. His modus operandi was to proceed with caution on a well-charted course with a known destination in mind. But he dialed Ella’s number anyway and found himself disappointed when he reached her voice mail. He hung up without leaving a message and was replacing the receiver into its cradle in his kitchen when it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is Ella Sanborn. Someone from this number just tried to call me.”

“Ella. Hello. It’s Chase Trumbull.”

“Oh.” Her tone was one of disappointment, an emotion that hit his ego hard. Before he could recover, she was saying, “I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact with your uncle yet. I plan to go see him first thing Monday morning. Honest. I would have been in sooner, but I spent some of the deposit he gave me, and I’ve been waiting until I could give him his money back in full.”

Now Chase felt horrible all over again. Ella really needed that money.

“That’s not why I was calling,” he lied.

“Then why?”

Why indeed.

“I...I...” he stammered, feeling like an idiot as he grasped for a reason. What he came up with was, “I have a job for you.”

“A job?” she repeated, clearly surprised.

Well, that made two of them.

“Yes, I, uh, want to throw a...a dinner party,” he said when his gaze fell on the takeout menu for his favorite restaurant that was open on the counter.

Chase had a full-size kitchen in the penthouse he’d been subletting since his return from California, one with the kind of appliances that a Cordon Bleu–trained chef would envy. Of course, he had neither the patience nor the time to learn their full range of functions, so most of his meals came courtesy of his favorite restaurants. And when he entertained, which was rare and usually for reasons more business-related than social, he relied on his secretary to see to the details. But Ella could handle it, he thought, warming to the idea. Yes, she could manage coordinating a meal for six or so guests.

“Are you asking me to plan your dinner party? I have no prior experience,” she reminded him. “None.”

“But you’re enthusiastic. You told me so yourself.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No. I’m hiring you,” Chase replied, mind made up.

Ella snorted and sounded far from convinced when she replied, “
You
want to hire
me.
Right.”

“I’m serious, Ella.”

“Oh, God! This is a pity job, isn’t it? You feel sorry for me. That’s the only reason you’re calling and offering me this opportunity.”

Pity. Was that all he felt where Ella was concerned? “Actually, I—”

It was as far as he got before she interjected. “I accept!”

He couldn’t help teasing, “Even if it’s a pity job?”

“Sure. Beggars, choosers and all that.” She was the one doing the teasing when she said, “Let me just step into my office, boot up my computer and you can give me the details.”

He pictured ten candy-pink-tipped toes crossing a stained white rug. “I have a better idea. Can we meet to discuss it in person?”

“I suppose that makes more sense. How about Monday when I stop in to see your uncle?” she suggested.

Monday seemed light years away.

“Actually, I haven’t had dinner yet. What about you?”

“An hour ago.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m always up for dessert.”

How could a man not appreciate a woman who would cop to liking dessert? Most of the women he knew were counting calories or carbs or both, and regarded sugar as the devil.

“I know a place that makes the best cheesecake. You like cheesecake, right?”

His question elicited a sound best suited to the bedroom. It was all Chase could do not to moan in response.

“I love it,” she said. “Give me the address and tell me what time you want to meet.”

The restaurant he had in mind was far closer to his Park Avenue penthouse than her apartment in Lower Manhattan, but he replied, “I thought I would pick you up.”

“Okay.” She waited a beat. “This is business, right? I mean, it’s not a date?”

“Of course it’s business,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”

He braced himself, fully expecting Ella to mention their kiss, but she said, “Shoe selection. I can be ready in an hour.”

“I’ll see you then.”

After disconnecting, Chase tapped the phone against his chin. Damned if he didn’t find himself wondering what kind of shoes she had in mind.

* * *

Red stilettos seemed a bit much for a business dinner, even if they were Ella’s favorite heels. She put them back in the cupboard and pulled out a pair of purple suede designer pumps. They were the real deal, a gift from her father back when he could still afford to give his daughter outrageously expensive shoes on a whim. Ella hadn’t worn them in nearly a year, but the bright plum was just the pop of color the outfit she had in mind needed.

When Chase knocked, she was dressed, shoes on, hair styled and eyes gone smoky thanks to some expertly applied shadow.

“The entrance is propped open again,” were the first words out of his mouth when she opened the door.

It wasn’t quite the greeting she’d hoped for, but she didn’t mind since his eyes then widened fractionally and half of his mouth tipped up.

“I’m ready,” she told him.

“So I see.”

His gaze still hadn’t made it back to her face. Even so, she had just enough vanity to go fishing for a compliment.

“What I’m wearing is suitable, right? You didn’t tell me where we were going, so I decided to play it safe and put on a dress.”

The other half of his mouth lifted. Ella still wouldn’t say he was smiling, but he was clearly pleased.

“You look...perfect.”

She’d been going for professional with a heaping side of pretty in the muted yellow print sheath that ended just above her knee, but it was difficult to be disappointed with being called perfect.

“Thanks. You look perfect, too.”

And mouthwatering despite being conservative. Did the man own clothing beyond suits? Technically, she supposed, Chase wasn’t wearing a suit. Rather, a navy sports jacket and a pair of stone-colored trousers. He wore both exceptionally well. She recognized a tailor’s hand when she saw one, but in this case more than gifted stitching was responsible for the fit. The man worked out.

At least he’d left the tie at home. The white button-down was open at the collar. Despite the day’s heat, she spied the neckline of a cotton undershirt. At the sight, Ella’s mind drifted. She found herself wondering if Chase wore boxers or briefs beneath his pants. Then she found herself wondering what he wore to bed. Most likely pajamas, the cotton plaid variety with a top that buttoned up the front and included a pocket. If she ever got the chance, she would take her time unbuttoning the shirt. Peel off the pants slowly. Boxers or briefs? She didn’t care which. When she got to them, she would peel off those slowly, too.

Forget drifting. Her mind had just wandered over a cliff. Sanity followed as she recalled their kiss. She had spent the week trying not to think about it. She hadn’t been very successful, even if she’d had bigger issues to concern herself with. Mainly, her lack of income, the mounting stack of bills and coming up with the few hundred bucks of Elliot’s deposit that she’d already spent.

“Is something wrong?” Chase’s voice sliced through her mind’s meanderings.

“Wrong? No.”

He nodded. Then, “I have a question for you. It’s a little bit personal.”

Thong, she nearly said, before pressing her lips together. “Hmm?”

“Why did you go with those shoes?”

Shoes. He would consider that a personal question. She glanced down at the pumps.

“I decided my outfit needed a punch of color.”

He nodded, as if he understood, which she doubted. Few men understood a woman’s predilection for shoes. Even her former boyfriend, Bradley, who was a clotheshorse himself, had been baffled by her obsession with footwear.

“Ready?” Chase asked.

“Yes.”

She retrieved a small clutch from the counter. It was orange, a warm hue that was positioned opposite the purple of her shoes on the color wheel. As such they complemented one another as well as the more neutral-toned dress.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” At her quizzical glance, he added, “A tablet, whether the old-fashioned writing variety or the high-tech kind. You’ll need to take notes for my dinner party.”

Dinner party. Notes. “Right,” she murmured, rummaging through the magazines, correspondence and clothes on her desk. She found a small pad of paper and tucked it into the purse. Then they were on their way. When they passed through the main door downstairs, Chase kicked to the side the brick her neighbor had placed there.

She thought the gesture sweet, even though she knew from prior experience that the guy or one of his bandmates would only put it back.

* * *

Ella was familiar with the restaurant Chase chose. It was a favorite of her father’s, although it had been a while since either she or Oscar had eaten there. The price of an appetizer could buy her a couple of meals at the places she frequented these days, not that she ate out often. Eating in was much cheaper.

“Mr. Trumbull, so good to see you again,” the maître d’ said with a hint of a bow. “I must have missed your name on the reservation list.”

“You didn’t miss it. My guest and I made dinner plans at the last minute. I know it’s a Friday night, but I was hoping you could accommodate us.”

The man’s gaze fell on Ella then and he blinked in surprise. “Miss Sanborn! It’s...it’s...it’s been too long.”

She gave him points for the quick recovery as well as diplomacy, even if his complexion paled by several shades.

“Hello, Charles. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. And you?”

“Never better,” she replied with a smile.

He lowered his voice and glanced around. “Will your father be joining you this evening?”

“No. It’s just Chase and me.”

The maître d’s relief was palpable. Although her heart sank, Ella kept her smile in place.

She didn’t need to look at Chase to know he was frowning. Questions were forming. Perhaps he already had answered some of them himself. She hoped any that remained could wait until after she’d eaten a thick slice of The Colton’s signature cheesecake, since talking about the past would spoil her appetite.

“Do you think you can find us a table?” she said to Charles.

There had been a time when Ella would have slipped the man a fifty-dollar bill along with the request. Money talked. Her father had taught her how to grease all sorts of skids with various denominations of currency. Now that neither of them had any to spare, doors that once swung wide open were all but bolted shut. That reality, along with the whispered comments whenever he came into a room, had left Oscar Sanborn bitter. Ella considered herself wiser. She put more stock in happiness than prosperity, even if she recognized the need for an income.

“Of course. Right this way.”

The table was one of three in a small alcove in the back, secluded from the front of the restaurant. Ella couldn’t decide if Charles had seated them there to ensure their privacy or to isolate them from the other guests, her father’s reputation being what it was these days.

A waiter appeared almost immediately to take their drink order.

“May I take the liberty of recommending a wine to start, Mr. Trumbull?” he asked.

At Chase’s nod, the young man rattled off the selection, touching on its various notes and characteristics.

“I’ll defer to the lady,” Chase said when the waiter finished. “How does that sound, Ella?”

“I’ve had the previous year’s vintage and did not care for it.”

“You will find this one much better.”

“All right.”

“Bring a half carafe,” Chase instructed.

“Excellent, sir.” With that, the young man withdrew.

She studied her menu, well aware that Chase was studying her.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said.

“About?”

“Eating more than dessert. I love their portobello mushrooms. They’re grilled and topped with roasted red peppers and goat cheese.” She set the menu on the table. “Does that sound all right to you for an appetizer?”

He nodded. “Ella—”

“Can it wait?”

“Can what wait?”

“The inquisition. I know you have questions.”

“I do,” he agreed on a slow nod. “All right. They can wait.”