The Weekend Proposition

The Weekend Proposition

by

Ella Jade

The Weekend Proposition

Copyright © 2013, Ella Jade

ISBN: 9781937325848

Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.

Electronic Publication: September, 2013

Editor: Antonia Tiranth

Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs

eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Back Cover Copy

One weekend—no strings, no expectations, and no commitments. On Sunday afternoon it all ends, or does it?

No-nonsense businessman Spencer Cannon has a dilemma. He’s headed to Connecticut for the weekend to attend his cousin’s elaborate wedding. His whole family will be there in addition to his obsessed ex-girlfriend Ava. According to Spencer’s brother, Ava has been telling her friends she’s planning a magical reunion with her favorite ex-boyfriend. Spencer’s not in the mood to deal with her, but he can’t miss the wedding. He needs a plan.

Struggling Brooklyn waitress and aspiring graphic designer Dakota Vercelli has fallen on hard times. College debts, pending eviction, and her sick mother are taking a toll on her. A chance encounter with Mr. Cannon, CEO of Cannon and Carrington Advertising, leads to a proposition that may be just the thing to solve both of their problems. Spencer’s offer—spend four days with him during the wedding festivities and keep his ex off his trail. In return, he’ll compensate her generously for her time. He needs a weekend girlfriend, and Dakota needs the cash.

It was just supposed to be a business deal, but after sharing a room, kissing under the stars, and attending a wedding, their attraction is undeniable. Will the illusion end when the weekend is over or is the proposition just the beginning?

Content Warning: contains mature language and graphic sexual content

Dedication

To my readers who continue to get lost in my words with each and every book…

Chapter 1

Spencer Cannon flipped through the spreadsheets on his desk while his brother’s voice blared out of the speaker phone. As he typed in the targeted numbers for the upcoming campaign he tried to drown out the one-sided conversation.

“Spencer,” Tyler said. “Are you listening?”

“I’m trying to work,” Spencer responded. “Unlike some people.”

“It’s after seven. You don’t need to be at the office.”

“If I don’t get this finished, who will?” He glanced out the huge window overlooking the Manhattan skyline. “All anyone in this family wants to do is talk about the wedding of the century.”

On Saturday, their cousin, Tara, would marry the governor’s son. Everyone was expected to report to Connecticut on Wednesday evening to start the festivities.

“What’s wrong with you? It’s four days of drinking, golfing, partying, and screwing. Of course it’s going to be the event of the century.”

Spencer wished he shared his brother’s enthusiasm.

“I can’t wait to get there,” Tyler said.

“I didn’t even think you were bringing a date. Who exactly will you be screwing?” He rolled his eyes as he entered the new set of numbers into the computer. If he was expected to be in Connecticut in two days, he needed to get these numbers right. The Bradford account had been nothing but a headache for him since they signed with the agency.

“Tara has a lot of hot bridesmaids, including the groom’s sister. Have you seen her? She’s incredible and single.”

“Good luck with that.” Tyler had the finesse of a freight train. No way would he land the governor’s daughter.

“You do know Ava is a bridesmaid and she sweats you every chance she gets, so you’ll be pretty busy yourself this weekend.”

“I don’t think so. Ava and I have been over for months.”

Ava Carrington had been a mistake from the very first date. Unfortunately, her grandfather owned half of the ad agency where Spencer was CEO. Cannon and Carrington Advertising had been in business for forty years. When Spencer’s grandfather retired, he left the company in Spencer’s hands, but the old man and his partner still had a strong say in everything that went on. Pierce Carrington was just as vocal as Jack Cannon, and both had hoped that Ava and Spencer would marry, ensuring a long, lasting union between the families.

“I don’t think she knows that,” Tyler said. “She’s been all over social media tweeting and updating her Facebook status about her long weekend plans with her favorite ex. She thinks the wedding will inspire you.”

“Shit! I don’t need this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many ways do I have to tell her it’s over?”

“Maybe if you didn’t sleep with her every time she came knocking on the penthouse door she’d get the message.”

Spencer could admit he’d made several mistakes when it came to Ava. They were on-again, off-again for over four years. Once she started talking diamonds, weddings, and babies he sobered up real fast. She was not the woman he wanted to spend forever with. It was better to end things than to forge forward and wind up in divorce court a few years later. That would have been messy for both the Cannons and the Carringtons. The agency didn’t need that kind of drama either.

“I haven’t been with her in five months. When I ended it last time I told her I meant it. She cried about how I wasted years of her life and she was almost thirty and not married. I haven’t heard from her since.”

“You have four nights to avoid her. How are you going to keep her from crawling into your bed this weekend?” Tyler snickered. “You don’t have that much resolve. You’ve been working nonstop for months. When was the last time you had any action anyway?”

“None of your business.”
Five months ago.
“Between Ava, Grandfather, and Pierce Carrington I won’t get a moment’s peace this weekend. You know how Grandfather gets when we attend weddings.”

“Spencer, my boy.” Tyler did his best impression of their grandfather. “You’re nearing thirty, you know. Don’t you think it’s time to settle down? With a Carrington?”

“Do you think I can get out of this?” The throbbing pain in Spencer’s right temple indicated a tension headache approaching.

“You can’t miss Tara’s wedding. She would be devastated.”

“You’re right.” Spencer sighed. “I’ll have to suck it up. I’ll just have to be firm.”

“Yeah, because that always works with Ava.”

“What can I do?”

“Bring a date,” his brother said. “Then all of them will have to leave you alone.”

“You’re not helping.”

“It’s a good idea.”

“Where am I supposed to find a date on such short notice?” Spencer had been busy playing around with Ava over the years. When they weren’t together he threw himself into his work. He had no last minute prospects, or at least not any he would consider bringing to a family function.

“You’re a rich, eligible bachelor who lives in Manhattan and runs one of the largest advertising companies in the city. Hire an escort.”

“Goodbye, asshat. I have work to do if I’m going to make this wedding. Don’t forget to approve those storyboards before you leave on Wednesday.”

“Good luck with finding your date, Prince Charming.”

“Whatever.” Spencer ended the call.

An escort service? Really?

When he glanced at his watch he realized he had a long night ahead of him. Standing from his desk he stretched out his back and headed to his private kitchen to put on a fresh pot of coffee. As he walked down the hall, he thought about the dreaded upcoming weekend. He’d known Ava would be there, but he’d hoped she would bring a date who would keep her occupied. Their last breakup had been messy, but he assumed she had moved on when she hadn’t contacted him like she normally did after they called it quits. Now that she’d made her intentions known on Facebook and Twitter, she would be a woman on a mission. She’d be all over him this weekend.

A few years ago, that wouldn’t have been a bad thing. When they were younger, the game was fun. She’d get mad because he wasn’t attentive enough and pretend to sulk. He’d buy her flowers and they’d hop in the sack. Nothing was at stake back then. They both knew what they were doing wasn’t about commitment. Ava changed the terms of their unspoken contract when she demanded he set a date. Spencer ended the game.

Pushing open the door to his lounge, he stopped, stunned over a woman standing by the sink. She wasn’t facing him, but her long black hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her slim back caught his attention. She wore a thin, gray t-shirt and a pair of form fitting dark yoga pants that hugged her shapely bottom just right.

Where did you come from?

“Ma, please don’t cry.”

Spencer heard the panic in this young woman’s voice. It unsettled him to hear her distress but he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but this was his private space and he had no idea who she was or what she was doing in the building.

“We won’t get evicted. I’ll find a way to get the rent money.”

He stepped into the room and closed the door, hoping she’d hear him, but she continued to speak in a loud, quick tone as she waved her hands in a frantic manner.

“I have to go. Please don’t worry. I get paid Friday. We’ll use that.” She paused and shook her head. “We won’t starve. I’ll grab some extra shifts at the diner.”

He picked up on her Brooklyn accent as it thickened with the rise of her anxiety.

When she turned just an inch or so, he got a better look at her profile. Her olive skin complimented her long dark hair. Her petite frame appeared tone. She ran her fingers through her locks as she shifted her feet. Something inside Spencer stirred. He wanted to reach out and place his hand on her shoulder and tell her not to worry, he’d fix all of her problems.

Who is she?

“I have to get to work. Ma, don’t worry. I’ll figure it out. I love you too.” Letting out a slow breath, she ended the call. She put her head down almost in defeat. “What am I gonna do?” she mumbled to herself.

Spencer cleared his throat.

“Oh!” She jumped at the sound, dropping her cell as she turned toward him. “Christ, you scared the shit—” She stopped and looked at him, the horror evident on her face. “Mr. Cannon, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were still in the building.”

“I’m working late.” He bent down and picked up her phone. “I thought I’d make a pot of coffee. Do I know you?”

“No, I’m with the cleaning company.”

“Looks like it’s still in one piece.” He handed her the older version of a cell, one he hadn’t seen in a while.

“Thanks.” She took it from him.

“I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. I don’t want to hold you up.” He pointed to the coffee pot. “I need fuel to get through a late night.”

“It’s your building. I’ll get out of your way.” She moved toward the door but he wasn’t ready for her to leave.

“What’s your name?”

“Coda.” She pulled her hair off her neck and secured it with the band she had around her wrist. “I better get started. Sorry about being in here. I’ll come back and clean the kitchen when you’re done.”

“Nice meeting you, Coda.”

“You too, Mr. Cannon.” He couldn’t help but linger on her full, pink lips when she gave him a small smile. “Don’t work too late.”

When she turned to leave, he spied the tiny heart tattoo at the nape of her neck. He leaned against the counter and watched as she left the room. How had he managed to miss her? He wondered when she had started working there. He’d be paying a visit to human resources tomorrow morning to find out exactly who Coda from Brooklyn was.

* * * *

As Coda filled the glasses with soda, she looked over the schedule pinned to the board in the kitchen of the diner. There weren’t any extra shifts to be had that weekend. Between the days she worked at the restaurant and the nights she spent cleaning the ad agency, she barely brought in enough to cover expenses. When she graduated college last spring, she’d hoped to have had a full-time job by now. But with the economy being what it was, jobs were scarce. Her bills and loans quickly added up, and she had a hard time making payments. Ever since her mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and couldn’t work as often as she used to, things had gone from bad to worse.

“Hey, Coda,” Lauren, the hostess said. “There’s a really hot guy out there asking for you. He insisted on sitting at one of your tables. He looks like he stepped out of the pages of GQ or something.”

“Yeah, right.” She snickered. “If only.”

“I’m serious. His friggin’ watch cost more than my car.” She motioned for Coda to look through the window that overlooked the counter. “Right there. See?”

“What the hell is he doing here?” she mumbled.