Save the Date (4 page)

He nudged his father and pointed. “Who is that?”

His father squinted to get a better look. “Ah, Lucy Wiltshire. Runs one of the charities we’re donating to tonight. Bright girl. Doing some great things. It’s a shame we had to cut her funding.”

Lucy Wiltshire. That name sounded vaguely familiar.

Her Goldilocks hair fell over delicate cheekbones leading to one indignant chin. Her dress reminded him of a modern June Cleaver as it hugged her subtle curves, the black material a stark contrast to her china doll skin. Her hands made sweeping gestures as she talked to Ruth Ellington, one of Sinclair’s board members. He saw Ruth shake her head, then walk away.

“It looks like she’s harassing your board members,” Alex said as he watched her zero in on another one. “You might want to take care of that.”

“Yes, I—” His father checked his phone and grimaced. “I have to take a call. Can you run interference for Ms. Wiltshire? Get her away from the board.”

Alex refrained from sighing until his father was gone. The man had aged ten years in the last twelve months, and right now there was nothing Alex would refuse him.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Alex traded pleasantries with the attendees as he worked his way to Lucy’s table. “Mrs. Rindquist, you’re looking lovely tonight. Mr. Ruiz, don’t forget that golf game next Saturday.”

He saw Lucy’s blue eyes go wide as he approached. Then the fire returned, and she lifted that pert nose and let him know she wasn’t going anywhere.

Alex stepped closer, feeling his first smile of the night. He didn’t know exactly what Lucy Wiltshire was up to, but he still had a little Warrior left in him.

And there was more than one way to tackle an opponent.

Chapter Three

T
he Playboy was coming her way.

The last thing Lucy wanted to do was make chitchat with a spoiled athlete who breathed in fawning and adoration like oxygen. He had been like that in school too. The jerk probably didn’t even remember her.

His thick, dark hair had just enough muss to let the world know he mixed pleasure with his business. A designer tuxedo covered his athlete’s body, but Lucy knew what was beneath it. The whole world did. At the height of Alex’s career as quarterback for the New York Warriors, you could find him sprawled in his BVDs from small-town billboards to Times Square. If one put in a small amount of effort, the ads could still be found. Not that Lucy ever looked.

She tried to focus on Mr. and Mrs. Carter, the most recent addition to the Sinclair board, but she could hardly talk for watching Alex. He should move with all the bulk of a rhino with those ridiculous muscles. Instead he handled himself with the grace of a panther. Lithe. Predatory. And headed right for her.

“Good evening,” Alex said as he approached. “Nice to see you all tonight.” His eyes seared through her, but Lucy wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing even an ounce of nerves. He’d been sent to sidetrack her, but she could talk to whomever she wanted.

“It’s a lovely gala,” Mr. Carter said. “Glad to be a part of it this year.”

“I was just telling them about Saving Grace.” Her tone sounded extra surly, even to her. The Sinclair family had been beyond generous for the last two years. But fear made her words clipped, and her patience on the verge of snapping like a fragile twig. And this man—this jock— thinking he could charm his way into politics! He hadn’t grown up a bit since they were kids—he still thought he was entitled to the world.

Alex stood a head taller than Lucy, and his eyes held a warning. “We’re all disappointed Sinclair had to decrease the usual contribution, but the company is still happy to support you.”

“It’s been a tough year.” Mr. Carter scanned the perimeter and held his empty wine glass toward a nearby waiter.

“Perhaps you’ll have more to celebrate next time,” Alex said.

“I’m afraid there won’t be a next time for us,” Lucy said. “Unless we receive additional funding from another source, we’ll have to shut down by the end of fall.”

At Mrs. Carter’s look of sympathy, Lucy stepped closer, only to have Alex move between them. “Ms. Wiltshire, why don’t you and I discuss this somewhere else and let the Carters enjoy their evening?”

Mrs. Carter patted Alex’s shoulder, her eyes alight with unfiltered awe. “I’m sure Alex has some connections, dear.”

“Fellow underwear models?”

Those full lips curved as Alex smiled at Lucy. “I don’t believe I like your tone. On behalf of undergarment ambassadors everywhere—”

“Alex! Oh, there you are.” One more board member joined their group.

The one Lucy had purposely avoided.

Clare Deveraux, the former first lady of South Carolina, shimmered in her long gown and matching jacket. Though the state still revered her as the Queen Elizabeth of the South for her stoic ways and upper-crust decorum, Lucy thought the woman was about as low-class as you could get. One summer long ago, she had single-handedly insured that Lucy’s mother would never get a cleaning job in Charleston by blacklisting Anna Wiltshire. Who would ruin a poor, working single mom like that?

Lucy had been around Mrs. Deveraux a few times at these events, and the woman usually did nothing more than offer Lucy a mute stare. Maybe Clare Deveraux reserved conversation only for those whose blood ran blue.

“Clare, you look beautiful tonight.” Alex took both of Clare’s hands in his and kissed her unnaturally smooth cheek. “Are you holding up okay?”

“It’s hard to believe Steven’s been gone three months.” Clare looked into the crowd. “My son would have enjoyed tonight very much. I’m glad I have my work on the board to keep me busy.”

Lucy opened her mouth to speak, but Alex’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, his fingers giving a light squeeze of warning. That man needed to keep his bossy ways
and
his hands to himself.

“My sympathies to you.”

Lucy had read in the paper of Steven Deveraux’s passing. Cancer at the age of fifty-four.

“I’m sorry as well,” Lucy said as her manners kicked in.

Clare narrowed her eagle eyes and let them roam over Lucy’s dress. “Black is not your color.”

And politeness was not Clare’s forte. “I’m actually glad to run into you, Mrs. Deveraux. I feel like we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot somehow.” Though Lucy had probably exchanged ten words total with her. “If I’ve done something to offend you, or if there’s something you don’t understand about our mission at Saving Grace—”

“I understand all I need to know,” she said evenly.

“I would love a chance to talk about whatever it is that seems to be between us.” Had Clare voted against Lucy because of her mother? “My girls are the ones enduring the consequences. Would you like to step over—”

The pressure on her shoulder increased. “Lucy, you mentioned earlier you wanted to dance.”

“Maybe if you saw what we did at the home, how we—”

“Not necessary,” Clare snipped.

“Listen, Lucy.” Alex tilted his head. “They’re playing your favorite song.”

“What do you have against me?” Lucy asked. “First you tried to sabotage my mother and then—”

“Okay, you talked me into it. But just a few turns around the floor.” With a yank, Alex pulled her to him. “You know how sensitive my insteps are.”

“No. I need to—”

“Dance. Now.” He took Lucy by the hand, his fingers a pressure against her wrist as he guided her through the crowd, past Clare and the wide-eyed Carters.

“What are you doing?” she said as he stopped in the middle of the dance floor.

“Avoidance.” He set one of his hands on her hip and put them into motion. “A tactic I use with you women on a regular basis.”

“I was about to get some answers.”

“You were about to get a face full of her chardonnay.”

“Mrs. Deveraux practically ruined my mother. That woman is toxic, and I would think your father would require his board members to possess at least a modicum of decency.”

“Would you quit leading?” He adjusted his hold on her, his fingers splayed on her back. “You can’t go charging through this ballroom. If you’re going to be here, then calm down and pretend to have a good time. No one is going to negotiate with you tonight.”

The band played a jazz version of a Sinatra song, but all Lucy could hear was the blood rushing through her head. Despite being an oversized athlete, Alex didn’t miss a step. He spun her out with a flick of his wrist, then slowly reeled her back in. “I’m Alex Sinclair, by the way.”

Oh, if she could wipe the arrogance off that face. “We went to the same school for at least ten years. I know who you are.” Not to mention his rake’s grin was plastered on every cover on the magazine rack.

Alex lifted a dark brow. “I think I would’ve remembered you.”

“Oh, really? Do you remember the time you and your friends used my gym bag as a football, passing it in the hall until it burst open and my sports bra flew out and tripped a girl on crutches?”

“No. I don’t recall that.” He was smart enough to look uncomfortable.

“Remember when you finally gave me an invitation to your summer pool party, only to ask me to serve you and your guests like I was your personal waitress?”

He looked away, over her head. “I’m afraid I was a rotten kid, Lucy. It was my brother who was the saint.”

Lucy knew that Will Sinclair had not just been working as a reporter in Durnama, but had been opening one of his schools there.

How he and Alex could be related was beyond her. Though twins, the brothers were nothing alike. One fair and gentle, one dark and a notorious rogue. She didn’t remember much about Will from school, but she did recall he had never been part of Alex’s clique of spoiled snobs. That alone made him admirable in Lucy’s estimation.

“So what have you done to receive the cold shoulder from Clare?” His simmering smile returned.

“Just breathing, apparently,” Lucy said. “My mom worked for her a long time ago. It didn’t go well.”

The song ended, but he only tightened his hold. “Just keep dancing. Don’t even think about leaving this floor.”

She barely came to his chin and had to lean back to look at him. “If you were this bossy with all your cheerleader girlfriends, it’s no wonder they’ve all banded together in mutual hatred.” She flexed her fingers against the smoothness of his dark tuxedo.

“They’re just angry because they can’t
all
have me.”

But Lucy knew those articles had done nothing but hurt his campaign. Was it wrong that it gave her a wicked sense of satisfaction that Alex Sinclair had finally found something he couldn’t buy or charm his way into? While playing for the Warriors, he had won the loyalty of every American man with an eye for the game, and the heart of every woman with a pulse. But the people of South Carolina were obviously intelligent enough to recognize that didn’t qualify Alex for a seat in government.

“Does your mother still live in Charleston?” he asked as the music changed into a slower tune.

“No. She’s . . . gone.” The hurt that had once been a scream inside her was now quieter, hushed to a whisper by the passing years. “I moved to Florida the summer before my senior year.” Her mother had met and fallen in love with a man in Tallahassee, and Lucy had finally gotten her young heart’s wish to leave Charleston. “It was a car wreck.” Lucy shook off the melancholy mood that had just enveloped her. “It was a long time ago. Tonight is what matters. And I need to talk to the board members. I’ve got to change their minds about this drastic cut.”

“Won’t do any good,” he said. “Our previous CEO almost donated Sinclair Hotels into an early grave. My uncle Phillip was generous to a fault.”

“I’ve always respected that quality about him.”

“You need to let this go. I’m sure what you do is important, but if Sinclair Hotels’ donation matters that much, then you need to do some restructuring.”

“Do you even know what we do at Saving Grace?” And did he have any idea how hard it was to ask for money from the same town that had rejected her years ago? And here she was again. A poor girl holding out her hands for charity from her betters. It was like Dickens meets Lifetime. “Did you know in our country, wards of the state are considered adults at eighteen? As soon as they graduate high school, many of them are forced to leave the system. They become instantly homeless. With little help, no life skills. They have a thirty-five percent greater chance of winding up in jail. Only two percent will go on to college—”

“That’s enough.” He swirled her around.

“Maybe you could sway the board. If you wanted to stop by and see what we do—” If only she could get one person on her side. “And now apparently the city has its eye on our building for a new parking garage. Are you aware these kids—”

“Are you aware that you’re standing an entire state away from me?” He drew her closer, pulling her tight against the hard planes of his chest. “I’d heard some talk about it. You can find another location.”

She was losing. She could feel it. “But that’s our home. It’s become a safe place. The girls have their own bedrooms. And watch your hands.”

His brown eyes held hers. “You are the most uptight woman I have ever met.”

“You’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever—”

“Not to mention, you’re delusional—like I’d try to cop a feel with you on a dance floor in front of hundreds of people.”

“Well, sport, according to the
People
article, the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders are done with you, so maybe you’re reduced to lowly nonprofit workers such as myself.”

His smile was a slow, small lift of the lips. “Maybe in your wildest dreams where—”

“I would do anything for those girls, Alex.” She bravely met his Hollywood eyes. “Absolutely anything.”

“Anything?” She heard the laughter in his voice.

“I’m desperate.”

His eyebrow raised as he studied her, weighing her words. “Interesting.”

“This is life or death for those young ladies.”

Behind them, someone cleared his throat. “May I cut in?”

And Lucy’s world shifted one more time.

Because she knew that voice. Still heard it in her dreams.

Turning around, Lucy stared at the man who had once held her future. And had handed it right back to her. “Matt?” The words barely formed on her lips. “What are you doing here?”