Maribelle’s words came back to haunt her. London could use a little fun in her life and rebound sex with Harrison Crosby might be what enabled her to move on from Linc. If only she wasn’t planning to use Harrison as part of their revenge plot.
“I don’t want to have to wait another week to spend an evening with you,” he continued as she grappled with her conscience.
“I’m flattered,” she said, stalling for time.
His lips kicked into a dry grin. “No, you’re not.”
Harrison wasn’t the sort of Southern gentleman she was used to. One she could wrap around her finger. He had a straightforward sex appeal that excited her and made her feel all needy and prone to acts of impulsiveness. The urge to grab his sweater and haul him over for a kiss shocked her.
“Really—” Her instincts screamed at her to retreat. Her susceptibility to this man could prove dangerous.
“You think I’m hitting on you because I want to sleep with every woman I meet.”
“I wouldn’t dream of thinking such a thing,” she murmured in her most guileless drawl as she glanced down at her legal pad and noticed she’d been drawing hearts. She quickly flipped to a clean page and set down her pen.
“Don’t go all Scarlett O’Hara on me,” Harrison replied. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I don’t see us ending up in bed, but I fully intend on making it about the journey and not the destination.”
Outrage poured through London, but there was a certain amount of amusement and curiosity mixed in, as well. Damn the man. His plain speaking was having the wrong sort of effect on her.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” she said. “What makes you think I’m interested in you that way?”
“The fact that you’re still here discussing it with me instead of kicking me to the curb.”
“Do you honestly think you’re the first client who has hit on me?”
“I’m sure I’m not.” He didn’t look at all concerned by her attitude. “But I’m guessing you’re going to give me a different answer than all the others.”
It pained her that he was right. Nor could she console herself with the falsehood that she would turn him down flat if it wasn’t for this pact she’d made with Zoe and Everly.
“I’ll have dinner with you tonight,” she said. “But I get to pick the place and I’ll meet you there.”
“And I promise to behave like a proper gentleman.”
She snorted. “There’s nothing proper or gentlemanly about you, I think.” A delicious shiver worked its way down her spine at the thought. “Do you agree to my conditions?”
“If they make you feel safe, then how can I not?”
His use of the word safe made her bristle. She hadn’t set conditions because of any nervousness she felt around him, but to make him understand that she wasn’t one of those women who flatter and swoon all in the hope of achieving that elusive five-carat sparkler for their left hand.
“How about we meet at The Front Porch at eight o’clock.”
“That’s perfect.”
She then steered the conversation back to the original reason for their meeting. “It would be a good idea if we could meet next week and check out a couple of the venues,” she told him, already having a pretty good idea of the sort of elegant evening she intended to organize.
“I’ll be back in town next Monday and Tuesday.”
She picked up her phone and pulled up her calendar. “I’m open Monday afternoon, say two o’clock? The faster we book a location, the sooner we can start working on the details. And I’ll pull some ideas together and send them along to you this week.”
“Sounds great.”
They’d arrived at an obvious end to their meeting and Harrison stood. As London escorted him to the front door, he asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to come watch me race in Richmond?”
London’s eyes flicked to her receptionist. Missy was paying rapt attention to their exchange without actually staring at them. Heat bloomed beneath London’s skin as she realized that word would soon spread about Harrison’s invitation.
“I don’t know...”
“You could bring your friend. Maribelle, wasn’t it?”