The Perfect Proposal
Read The Perfect Proposal Online
Authors: Rhonda Nelson
By
Rhonda Nelson
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are either the product of the authors’
imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to
persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is entirely
coincidental.
“
The Perfect Proposal”
copyright © 2011 by Rhonda Nelson.
This book has been published by Rhonda Nelson
at Smashwords.
Cover Art by Dee Tenorio, Laideebug
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.
Chapter One
She’d been dumped.
By duller-than-dirt Edward.
And it
had
to happen on the mother of all bad
days.
In quick succession Annie
Witherspoon sucked a lemon wedge, licked the salt from her wrist,
then tossed back another shot of tequila. Her eyes watered and the
Cuervo scaled her tonsils, but she scarcely noticed. After shot
two, she couldn’t feel her throat anyway. Besides, she was too busy
feeling sorry for herself. After all, it wasn’t just every day that
a woman’s personal
and
professional life went to hell in a hand-basket.
With a beleaguered moan,
Annie tunneled her fingers in her hair and massaged her tingling
scalp. Edward, she knew, she could do without. She’d known from the
onset of the relationship he wasn’t
the
one
, whether or not there would ever be a
one and she definitely had some serious doubts about that. Just
part of her cynical charm, Annie told herself, smiling wryly. And
really, the end result was the same, so what did it really matter
who dumped whom? Technically, it didn’t...but it was decidedly less
pathetic to be the dump
er
as opposed to the dump
ee
.
Under normal circumstances, Annie would have
consoled herself with the old at-least-I’ve-still-got-my career
balm. Her trusty standby for when things inevitably didn’t go her
way.
Which was often.
But unfortunately-as of today-even that
comforting thought was no longer true. If Mitch Hightower, her
boss’ jet-setting, skirt-chasing, global playboy nephew had his
way, Annie’s glory days at Hightower Advertising would be over. The
very idea that he could just waltz in and snatch her rightful
position based on nothing more than some shared DNA made Annie's
unrelated blood boil.
She frowned thoughtfully as she pondered her
present circumstances. Too bad Will was such a fair-minded person,
Annie thought, thinking fondly of her friend and mentor.
Regrettably, William Hightower had decided to give his nephew a
second chance at assuming the helm of the prestigious Atlanta
agency, a job Annie had both coveted and trained for over the past
five years.
Because she thought so much of William, Annie
had tried to understand his perspective, and she supposed deep down
she could. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d worked long
and hard for the position, and now she might lose it to a man who
had simply walked away from the family business years ago.
It was more than wrong, it was unjust.
“
Want me to call you a cab?”
the bartender she’d come to know as “Tank” over the past four
drinks asked, interrupting her depressing thoughts. A ham-sized arm
flexed with muscles she couldn’t name as he wiped down the
bar.
“
Hey, baby, I’ll drive you
home,” the guy on the stool next to her offered before Annie could
respond.
Tank shot the man a warning glare. “Can it,
Dick. You can’t even drive yourself home.”
Dick—appropriately named in
Annie’s opinion—scowled and returned to his drink. Dejected once
more, Annie sighed and ordered another shot.
Misery loves tequila
, she thought
gloomily, and tossed back the shot Tank accommodatingly slid her
way.
Mitch Hightower slung his jacket over his
shoulder and exited the hotel restaurant with the intention of
going to his uncle’s home. Instead, and much to his relief, his
feet took him to a secluded table in the back of the hotel bar. He
hoped the real estate agent would come through soon. Mitch knew
from experience that hotel life got old in a hurry.
After ordering a drink, he released a tired
breath and surveyed the crowd of barflies. Damn. What the hell was
he doing here? He’d promised William he would drop by tonight so
that they could discuss his impending takeover, yet for reasons
which still escaped him, he couldn’t seem to make the drive over to
Dunwoody. Mitch let out a weary breath and passed a hand over his
face. Perhaps knowing that Uncle William wasn’t in the peak of
health anymore—and having just lost a friend and business partner
who had been—made him reluctant.
Uncle Will had always been larger than life,
a veritable force of nature. He’d been an anchor of Mitch,
especially after the death of his parents and, though over the past
few years they hadn’t seen eye to eye on several of his lifestyle
and career choices, Mitch had always known that he could depend on
William. It had been a comfort he’d taken for granted, which shamed
him now.
In all truth, Uncle Will’s request for his
presence at Hightower Advertising couldn’t have been more timely.
Though he would have never imagined it himself, Mitch was ready to
run the family company, to say goodbye to the empty life he’d been
leading. He’d traded his Harley for a Jag, his jeans for Armani,
and his long hair for a trendy new cut. No more partying, no more
unnecessary risks and, most importantly—at least until he got his
bearings at the agency—no more dating. Women were a distraction he
couldn’t allow. A beautiful distraction, he’d admit, and he knew
himself well enough to know that he enjoyed the pleasures of the
flesh too much to abstain forever. But he liked to think that he
had enough self control to manage a temporary hiatus.
At any rate, it was past for time for him to
have made some serious decisions about his future.
And it was past time for him to have gotten
to Dunwoody. Determined to do just that, Mitch heaved a sigh,
tossed a couple of bucks on the table and made his way toward the
exit.
“
Look, Dick, I said no,” an
extremely sexy and slightly slurred feminine voice said through
slightly clenched teeth. “What part of that don’t you
understand?”
Oh, damn,
Mitch thought, feeling his hero hormone kick in.
He told himself to ignore both the voice and the woman it belonged
to. He’d just sworn off the softer sex, wasn’t even going to look.
Twenty more feet and he’d be in the clear.
“
Come on, baby, don’t be
like that,” the man cajoled drunkenly.
She yelped in pain. “Hey! Let me go!”
Mitch looked.
Damn. Now he had to help
.
“
I don’t think my girlfriend
is eager to leave with you, friend,” Mitch said in a calmly
threatening voice.
Startled warm brown eyes looked up at him as
Dick released her wrist. She understood immediately and awkwardly
propelled herself into his arms. “Oh, honey!” she exclaimed.
“W-where have you been? I’ve been waiting all night.”
Mitch slid a protective arm around her
slender shoulders and leveled an assessing gaze at the man before
him. “In the back. Where I said I would be.”
“
In the back?” she parroted.
“I thought you said to meet at the bar. Silly me,” she breathed and
snuggled closer to him. Wild, coffee-colored curls brushed against
his neck. A light musky scent surrounded her and drifted up to
tease his nostrils. A sensual awareness zipped unexpectedly through
Mitch, taking him momentarily off guard.
Dick narrowed his bloodshot eyes and snorted.
“She’s not your girlfriend. You didn’t even look at her when you
came in.”
Mitch shrugged. “I’m looking
now.”
Let it go
,
Mitch thought.
Don’t make me have to kick
your ass.
Reluctantly defeated, Dick exhaled a toxic
breath and moved on, presumably to look for a more willing
partner.
Like a spent party balloon, his damsel in
distress sagged against him. “Oh, thank you,” she breathed
gratefully. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She pushed a shaky
hand through her tangled mane. “Geez, what a night. First, Edward’s
revelation and then that Dick…” She belatedly noticed a stain on
the front of her dress and an adorable scowl wrinkled her otherwise
smooth forehead. “That bumbling oaf spilled beer on me. Wonderful.
Just icing on the cake.”
“
Are you all right?” Mitch
asked.
She quit trying to salvage her dress and
looked up. Her dark gaze locked on his and for an instant Mitch was
paralyzed. A punch to the solar plexus couldn’t have affected him
than this overwhelming first impression of this angel. For that
enigmatic second, they could have been the only two people on the
planet…and for some perverse reason, he suddenly wished they
were.
She blinked, dispelling the fantasy. “Yes,”
she breathed. “I’m f-fine. Then she seemed to realize that she no
longer needed his protection and, to his regret, she pulled back.
Then promptly swayed back into him. “Ughhh, no I’m not. I, uh… I
think I’m… gonna be… sick,” she said brokenly.
Sick? Mitch thought. Sick as in vomit? He
inwardly swore.
“
Oh, I need to lie down,”
she groaned, pressing her hand to her head that was undoubtedly
spinning. She gave him a sweetly beseeching look. “Could you be a
dear and get me a cab? This night has been a complete disaster, and
if I’m going disgrace myself any further, I’d really prefer to do
it at home.”
Mitch reached for his cell phone. “Isn’t
there anyone you can call?”
“
I-I live alone.”
He scowled at her. “That’s not something you
should be advertising.”
Seemingly distressed, the inebriated angel
opened her mouth to say something, then promptly snapped it shut.
Her chin trembled. Oh hell. Not tears. Mitch hated tears.
“
You’re right,” she
admitted, her voice cracking in a way that made Mitch incredibly
uncomfortable. “T-that was stupid. Unforgivably so, really. And
under ordinary circumstances, I’m very logical.” She sniffed and
her eyes watered ominously. “Just ask anyone. But today, quite
frankly, has sucked hind tit and I want nothing more than to go
home.”
“
Of course,” he said, making
an awkward attempt to soothe her. He sighed, then he made a
split-second, probably not very bright decision. “Give me your
address. I’ll see to it that you make it home.”
“
O-okay,” she snuffled,
dabbing delicately at those luminous brown eyes. “Thank
you.”
She allowed him to guide her uneventfully out
of the bar, but when the valet brought his car around, she balked.
“Where’s the cab?” she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Mitch smiled reassuringly and shrugged. “I
didn’t call one. I don’t mind giving you a lift home.” Determined
to do just that, then call it a night himself, Mitch took another
step toward his car. When he looked back, her stiletto heels were
anchored to the concrete. The woman hadn’t budged. He looked
heavenward and heaved a beleaguered breath. Really? This was the
thanks he got for attempting to do a good deed?