Meet Mr. Prince (6 page)

Greg looked at Cornelia. “Do you mind?”

“No, no, of course not.” But Cornelia did mind. She'd been looking forward to a relaxing meal. Now she'd have to be on her toes, because with Kit there, avidly listening to every word, conversation would be a minefield she'd have to carefully navigate.

Their waiter noticed the addition at the table almost immediately and came over to take Greg's order.

Once he'd left them alone again, Greg turned to Cornelia, “I'm glad I ran into you today, because I have some news. In fact, I planned to call you later.”

Cornelia knew Kit would be storing up every morsel of gossip. “Good news, I hope.”

Greg shrugged. “It
is
good news, but there's bad news that comes along with it.”

“Well, come on. Don't keep us in suspense,” Kit said.

Still looking at Cornelia, he said, “I've been offered a terrific job in Hawaii.”

Cornelia couldn't hide her surprise. He had taken her completely off guard. “That's wonderful, Greg,” she finally managed to say.

“Greg!” Kit said. “But that means you'll be leaving us.”

“Yes,” he said, finally turning to Kit, “that's the bad news.”

Cornelia used the few seconds his attention was directed elsewhere to pull herself together again.
She wasn't sure why Greg's news had affected her so strongly. After all, she had never viewed their relationship as anything but pleasant and temporary. “You've accepted, then.”

His eyes met hers again. “I haven't officially, but I plan to. It's just too good an opportunity to pass up.” This last was said more softly, almost apologetically.

“I'm glad for you, Greg,” she said, meaning it. But she would miss him. Funny that she hadn't realized how much she had begun to count on him as a good friend. And, if she were being completely honest with herself, as someone who made her feel important…and almost young again.

They continued to discuss the new job and what it would entail until their food arrived. Once again, they fell silent for a few minutes. But after Fred was gone and they'd begun to eat—Cornelia her chicken salad, Kit her tuna tartare and Greg his ribeye special—Greg said, “You know, I'm still wondering why this opportunity came my way. I asked how they'd decided on me, but I never really got an answer.”

“Well,” Kit said, “obviously your reputation preceded you.” She took a bite of her tuna. “Yum. No one does tuna like Paulo.”

“One of the other golfers mentioned that a Seattle company was heavily invested in the resort where I'll be working,” Greg said. “Maybe that had a bearing on their decision to offer me the job.”

Cornelia put her fork down. “A Seattle company? Which one?”

Greg speared a fry. Smiled at her. “HuntCom.”

“HuntCom,” Cornelia repeated.

Perhaps her tone sounded odd, because Greg frowned
a little and said, “Yes. You know the company, don't you?”

“Know it?” Kit squealed. “Why, Cornelia's husband was one of the founders of HuntCom.”

“Really?” he said. “I had no idea.”

“Yes, well,” Cornelia said, keeping her tone light even though her insides were churning. “It's old news.
Very
old news.”

“But you're still
very
good friends with Harry Hunt,” Kit persisted.

Cornelia now wanted to strangle Kit, even though she was sure Kit had no idea how uncomfortable Cornelia felt, because Cornelia had never even hinted at her feelings for Harry. In fact, she'd kept the subject of Harry Hunt out of all her conversations with Kit…and just about everyone else. She'd always been too afraid of giving herself away. “Yes,” she admitted, because she really had no choice, “Harry and I are old friends.”

“Maybe you could ask him why they picked me,” Greg said.

Oh, I'll ask him, all right. And that's not all I'll ask him.
“If I ever have the opportunity, I will.” She picked up her fork again and took a bite of her chicken. But it no longer tasted good. Cornelia knew, without ever having to hear one word of explanation from Harry, that he had done what he did best. He had gotten rid of the competition.

Cornelia didn't know whether to be flattered or furious.

One thing she
did
know. Harry had never intended for her to find out about his behind-the-scenes machinations.

She almost felt sorry for him.

 

When Zach and Georgie got back to the office, Deborah greeted Zach with a slew of phone messages. “You'd better call Jonathan Pierce first,” she said. “He didn't sound happy.”

“That man is a royal pain.”

“Don't I know it! He nearly snapped my head off.” Deborah made a face and looked at Georgie. “I don't envy you working with that man.”

Zach heaved a sigh. “Okay. I'll call him.”

Zach closed his office door before picking up the phone. If Pierce was going to be hard-nosed, he might have to be told some home truths.

“I resent the fact that you're handing me off to some second-rate assistant,” Pierce said without preamble.

“Miss Fairchild is not a second-rate assistant. She's a top-notch researcher and specializes in evaluations of possible grant recipients. You couldn't be in better hands.”

“I prefer dealing with you.”

“I'm overloaded right now, Jonathan. Miss Fairchild is taking over all pending evaluations.” Zach kept his voice level, but inside he was seething. Who did Pierce think he was? He wanted something from them, not the other way around. If Zach didn't think Carlyle was such a worthy possible beneficiary, he might just tell Pierce to take a hike.

“I would think you'd make an exception for us.” Pierce's voice was steely.

And why is that?
“I'd like to, but I can't.”

“I see. And that's your final word?”

Zach sighed. What the hell was the man's problem? “Come on, Jonathan, be reasonable. I—”

“Be reasonable! I am being reasonable. You're the one who's blowing me off. Maybe we should just go elsewhere.”

Zach almost laughed. Go elsewhere? Did Pierce think that was a threat? There were dozens of possible grant recipients lined up, hoping for a positive response from the foundation. And the foundation could not say yes to all of them. They simply didn't have enough resources. “If that's your decision, we'll certainly understand.”

If he'd thought Pierce would back down, he was wrong, for the doctor, still obviously furious, said a curt goodbye and hung up before Zach could reply.

Zach just stared at the phone. Sometimes he couldn't believe the way people acted. He wondered if he should tell Georgie what Pierce had had to say, but he quickly decided against it. There'd be time enough after Pierce made his next move. Frankly, Zach had just about had enough of the arrogant prick. He'd almost be glad if Pierce went elsewhere. Let someone else deal with his grandiose fantasies.

Looking through the rest of his phone messages, he saw that his sister had called. Deciding he could use a dose of her good humor and common sense, he called her next.

“Hey, bro,” she said.

“Hey, sis. How's it going with Princess Emma?”

“Oh, we're having a fine time today. As a matter of fact, we're baking peanut-butter cookies.”

Zach smiled. “She loves them.”

“Don't I know it. She also loves the raw dough. I had a time stopping her from eating it.”

“I'm surprised you were successful.”

Sabrina laughed. “Me, too. That child of yours personifies the word
stubborn
.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Why I called is, I wondered if Emma could spend the night. I noticed that her shoes are all getting tight on her, and I thought I'd take her shoe shopping tomorrow.”

“You're a saint, you know that?”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it's true.”

“I'm not a saint, Zach. I just…I don't know. Every time I look at Emma, I realize how much she's missed.
Is
missing.”

“I know.”

“I mean, everyone worries about Katie, and of course, they
should
. She's still hurting. But at least she remembers Jenny. But Emma…she was only a year old when Jenny died. Her memories are gone.”

“I know,” he said again.

“If I can give her any of that, I want to. And Peter agrees with me.” Her voice softened. “He loves Emma, too.”

Zach was eternally grateful that Sabrina had married such a stellar man in Peter Norlund. Peter, a respected radiologist at New York Presbyterian, was exactly the sort of man Zach would have chosen for his sister. Generous, thoughtful, intelligent and kind—he was everything a husband and father should be.

“Well,” Sabrina said, “I know you're busy. I just wanted to make sure it was okay to keep Emma overnight.”

Once again, Zach sat looking at the phone after terminating the call. Only this time he felt good. In fact, he felt so good he decided everything else on his work agenda could wait. He would surprise Katie and go home earlier than expected. Maybe they'd get in several games of chess.

But first he'd give Georgie a heads-up, just in case Jonathan Pierce called back.

Georgie looked up from her computer when Zach knocked on the doorframe. Zach quickly gave her a rundown on Pierce's phone call. “I just wanted you to be prepared in case he calls back. I'm going to tell Deborah to route him through to you, because I'm leaving for the day.”

Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall for a second. Zach knew she was remembering that he'd told Katie he'd be home by six. It was only four o'clock.

“Okay,” she said. Then she smiled. “And don't worry. I can handle him.”

Zach smiled back. “There was never any doubt in my mind.”

In fact, Zach thought as he rode the elevator down to the lobby level, from what he'd seen of Georgie, she could handle anything.

Probably including him.

Z
ach hadn't been gone from the office ten minutes when Deborah buzzed Georgie to say Jonathan Pierce was on the line. “And he's not happy,” she warned.

Georgie grimaced. He'd be even less happy after they talked.

She pressed a button. “Georgie Fairchild.”

“There's been some mistake, Miss Fairchild,” he ground out. “I asked to speak with Zach.”

“I'm sorry, Dr. Pierce. He's gone for the day.” She waited a heartbeat before adding, “May I help you?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Look, I get it that you're not happy I'm now in charge of the Carlyle Children's Cancer Center application. You made that very clear earlier today, but—”

“Not happy? I consider it absolutely outrageous that I've been foisted off on some
underling
.”

If his voice got any frostier, it would rival the
temperature of the Arctic. She decided not to make a point of the fact he'd interrupted her or that he was beyond rude. Keeping her own voice pleasant, she said, “Despite your reservations, I believe we can work together. Unless, of course, you've decided to withdraw your grant application?”

A long moment pregnant with tension passed before he spoke again. “How long are we supposed to wait before you make a final decision?” he said stiffly.

Georgie stifled the impulse to smile. She knew he wouldn't be able to see a smile, but perhaps he would sense it. “I expect to have my recommendation ready by the end of the week.”

“I see.”

She knew he wouldn't complain because he had probably thought she'd take much longer than that. “In fact,” she added, “I've finished going over all the paperwork given to us so far. Now all that's left is last quarter's financial report, which Ms. Love has promised will be in my hands no later than Wednesday.”

“You'll call me immediately upon making your decision.”

Now Georgie did smile. “Absolutely. You'll be the first to know.”

Pierce said a terse goodbye without thanking her. But Georgie hadn't expected thanks. It was enough that he had been made to realize that he wasn't calling the shots.

She was, whether he liked it or not.

It normally gave Georgie no pleasure to brandish her power over applicants, but in the case of Jonathan Pierce, that rule didn't hold true. It gave her a great deal of pleasure to knock that supercilious man down a peg or two. If he hadn't been such a pain in the butt, she
would have told him that unless the cancer center's last quarterly financial report showed some discrepancy, their application was all but approved now. That she was making him wait (and sweat a bit, she hoped) was exactly what he deserved for his immature behavior.

She wished Zach were still here, so she could tell him about the conversation. Instead, she sent him an email saying she'd like to meet with him in the morning. She added the teaser,
to tell you about my conversation with Jonathan Pierce.
She smiled, thinking how much Zach would enjoy hearing about the exchange.

Less than thirty minutes later, her email program alerted her to new mail from Zachary Prince.

If you don't have plans for the evening,
he wrote,
maybe you'd like to come for dinner. Fanny made stuffed pork chops. We can talk about Pierce then
.

Georgie was so surprised, she had to read the message twice to make sure she hadn't made it up. She immediately wrote back.
I don't have any plans. What time shall I come?

A minute later he answered, saying,
Great. Let's say six-thirty. See you then
.

Georgie didn't know what had prompted the invitation, but she'd have been lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to the evening. Now that she had changed her opinion of Zach, she could actually admit she enjoyed his company. And, if she was being completely honest (oh, Joanna would laugh at her!), she did enjoy looking at him.

“Well, you look awfully pleased with yourself,” Deborah said from the open doorway.

Georgie jumped.

Deborah laughed. “Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. So what did the great man say?”

For a moment, Georgie thought Deborah was referring to Zach, and she couldn't think what to answer. But then she realized Deborah meant Jonathan Pierce when she'd said “great man.” “He tried to intimidate me by saying he didn't want to work with me…
again.
I guess he thought if he said it enough times—especially with Zach not there to protect me—I'd cower or something.”

Deborah grinned. “I've only known you a few days, and I already know you're not the sort of person to cower…for anyone.” She shook her head. “Wonder how men like Jonathan Pierce get to be that way? Think they have domineering fathers? Who maybe treated their mothers like serfs? Or maybe treated
them
like serfs?”

Georgie shrugged. “Beats me. I'm no psychologist.”

“Well, I'm glad you showed the good doc he can't push you around, with or without Zach.” Deborah glanced at her watch. “It's almost quitting time.” Looking up, she smiled. “Hey, if you don't have plans for the evening, want to come and have dinner with me and my son? Jack's in Cleveland on business, and it's just me and Kevin tonight. Nothing fancy, though. We're having spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Oh, thanks, Deborah, I would've loved to, but I
do
have plans. In fact, I'm going over to Zach's for dinner. He just now invited me. I guess he's anxious for a play-by-play of my phone conversation with the great Dr. Pierce.”

“Oh, that'll be fun. You'll get to meet his kids.”

Had Deborah given her an odd look? “I've already met Katie. We stopped by the apartment on the way
back from our meeting at Carlyle so Zach could pick up some files he'd forgotten.”

“How is she? Is she feeling better?”

“She told Zach she was.” Yes, that was definitely an odd look. Speculative. Or was she being paranoid again?

Deborah sighed. “I feel so bad for those kids. Katie especially. She's taken the death of her mother really hard. When Jenny died, the other two were really too young to be affected. Well, Jeremy probably remembers her a little—he was three when Jenny first got sick and four when she died. But Emma was just a baby.”

“It's sad they lost their mother so young.”

“It's heartbreaking, actually.” She turned as if to leave, then said, “It's been really tough on Zach.”

“I can imagine,” Georgie said. “Raising three young children on his own. That's a lot of responsibility. Plus…losing his wife. She must have been very young.”

“She'd just turned thirty-four.”

Thirty-four. Georgie swallowed, imagining only having four more years to live.

“It was awful,” Deborah continued. “Such a sad time for everyone. Jenny's mother was devastated. Jenny's father had died a few years earlier, and Jenny was an only child. Zach has done a wonderful job on his own, though. I really admire him. He's got his priorities straight. Unlike a lot of men, he always puts his kids first.”

Had Deborah added that last bit for Georgie's benefit? Oh, surely not. Georgie was imagining things.

“I admire that, too,” she said. Georgie couldn't help but think of her uncle Harry, who hadn't put his kids first and had paid dearly for that neglect. But at least
he'd wised up eventually and made things right with his sons.

“I do hope Zach will meet someone one of these days, though,” Deborah said thoughtfully. “He's far too young to be alone. Besides, those children really need a mother.”

Those children really need a mother
.

The words seemed to echo in the room after Deborah left.

As Georgie cleaned up her desk and got ready to leave herself, she kept thinking about them.

Those children really need a mother
.

Georgie knew, if she had any sense at all, she'd steer a wide path around Zach. He was far too attractive, and the more she learned about him, the more she liked him.
I shouldn't be going to his apartment for dinner. I should have said no.

Yet, what was the harm? It wasn't a date or anything close. It was just dinner, and his kids would be there.

True, but just yesterday, she'd decided she was going to keep her distance from him. Of course, yesterday she'd thought he was married, and today she knew he wasn't.

Did that make any difference, though? He might not be married, but as Deborah had pointed out, he had three young children who needed a mother—the kind of life that was eons removed from Georgie's.

And if Georgie had learned anything in her thirty years, she'd learned that it was dangerous to play with fire. And her undeniable attraction to Zach was definitely fire.
Plus, aside from all else, he's your boss.
She grimaced, imagining what Joanna would say. Georgie had certainly cautioned
her
about getting mixed up with
her
boss.

If I had any brains at all, I'd run for the nearest airport and hightail it on home.

But since she couldn't do that, and since she couldn't call Zach up and say she couldn't make it tonight after all without looking like an idiot, she would make sure that from now on she would stick to her original decision. She would steer a wide path around him. She would be friendly and helpful at the office, and she would firmly stay away from him at all other times.

No matter how much she might be tempted otherwise.

 

When Cornelia arrived home from the club, she smelled the flowers before she saw them: an enormous bouquet of hyacinths mixed with tiny white roses. She didn't have to look at the accompanying card to know they'd been sent by Harry.

Yesterday he'd sent her a nosegay of violets, the day before a huge spray of baby orchids, all with approximately the same message. All three selections were out of season and had probably cost the earth. And if she hadn't been dealt a body blow today in the form of Greg's news, courtesy of Harry Hunt, she'd probably be thrilled about the flowers. But she was still reeling a bit by the knowledge that Harry wouldn't think twice about playing dirty, even when it came to her.

And why should he? Ruthless tactics had stood him well in business. Winning was all that counted. Take
what you want by any means, fair or foul. That was Harry's truth. It was the way he operated. Hadn't he shown her just how merciless he could be when he'd threatened to disinherit his sons unless they married and gave him the grandchildren he coveted? He'd been deadly serious, too.

She was still thinking about him and trying to decide how she would deal with what he'd done about Greg when her cell phone rang. She wasn't even surprised to see Harry's name on the display.

“Hello, Harry,” she said.

“Hello, my dear. How are you this afternoon?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

“Did you have a nice lunch with Kit?”

“How did you know I was having lunch with Kit today?”

“I have my ways.”

She heard the smile in his voice, and it hardened her resolve. “Oh, yes, I know you do.”
I know all about you, Harry. You're not fooling me for a second
. “And yes, it was a very nice lunch.”

“I'm glad. You deserve everything nice. And what about the flowers? Did they arrive?”

“They did, and they're lovely. Thank you. But you really shouldn't send flowers every day. It's terribly wasteful.”

“It's not the least bit wasteful. Not when they're for you. You're very important to me.”

“Really,” she said.

He laughed. “Oh, Corny, I can see I have a lot of work to do to get rid of that skepticism I hear in your voice.”

“You must admit, I do have reason to doubt you. Two blonde reasons, one brunette and one redhead, to
be exact.” The redhead had particularly upset Cornelia, maybe because by that time she was thoroughly disgusted with Harry's choices.
And hurt. Don't forget hurt.

“Touché. But it's time for you to forget about the follies of my youth. I'm a grownup now, and I finally know what I want.” His voice lowered. “And what I want is you.”

A frisson of pleasure rippled through her, even as she reminded herself that Harry had more to answer for than the follies of his youth and that she shouldn't forget it.

“I have a great idea,” he said.

“Oh?”

“How would you like to go away for the weekend?”

“Go away?”

“Yes, you know…the two of us…somewhere romantic. Doesn't that sound good?”

“Well,” she hedged.

“We could go to Paris…”

Paris. Her favorite city in the entire world. She almost said,
If I do eventually agree to marry you, I'd rather save Paris for our honeymoon.
But something held her back.

“What do you say, Corny? The Eiffel Tower all lit up at night. Montmartre. Maxim's. We could even be naughty and go to the Folies Bergère, if you so desire. And if you don't want to go to Paris, we could go somewhere closer to home. Montreal or Quebec City. What strikes your fancy?”

They all sounded wonderful. But then, when you were as rich as Harry, everything sounded wonderful.

“Let me think about it,” she finally said. She refused to allow him to rush her into anything.

“What is there to think about? Which city you prefer? Or whether you're going to go at all?”

“Whether I'm going to go at all.”

He sighed heavily, the sound clearly audible over the phone. “All right, Corny. Have it your way. When do you think you might have an answer for me?”