Best Laid Plans Read Online Free PDF

him my most direct stare.
“Oh, but I really do.”
    Staring at him turns out to
be a mistake, because it reminds me how incredibly handsome he is. He’s dressed
in a gray suit, white shirt, with a red and navy repp necktie. The complete
corporate executive. Jackson Hunter of Hunter Ente— Oh no. This is his company.
    I turn on my professional
smile. “So you have an event coming up?”
    “First things first, Ms. Whitkins.”
He turns toward the door. “Pippa, come in here.” Ms. It walks in with her
eyes down and stands next to Jackson. I’m relieved she’s not wearing her little
black dress, too.
    “Pippa, tell Ms. Whitkins
you’re all right.”
    Pippa’s eyes rise up to meet
mine. They look like two cherries in a bowl of milk. I shouldn’t be delighted
that she is suffering from a hangover—but I am. The fact that her hair is
perfect doesn’t help. Her gaze drifts down to my harem uniform, and there is a flash
of anger in her pale face.
    “Pippa!” He says it as if she’s
a child who isn’t responding.
    Pippa pastes on a smile. “As you
can see, I am not Mr. Hunter’s unwilling victim. I like your dress.”
    I’m pretty sure I know how
women get this dress, so her smarmy comment ignites my anger. “Thanks. Mr. Hunter
lent it to me after you vomited all over mine.”
    Oh, that look. That “I was so
drunk I don’t remember, what else did I do” look. I’ve seen it all my life. First
my mother, then my late husband, and now Pippa. The girl with the perfect hair.
Kill them with kindness. I put on a big smile. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re
safe and sound, and at work.”
    Jackson pulls a chair out. “Pippa
is not an employee, but she has been in my service.”
    I was angry at her, and now I’m
even angrier at him. This man has that smug sense of superiority that I detest.
I wore this dress because it made me feel confident, until I ran into the one
man I didn’t want seeing me in it. What makes it even worse is that I still
find him sexy as hell. I need to get this meeting on track. I pull a notebook
out of my briefcase.
    “Shall we discuss the event
you want? We’re already running late.”
    “Certainly, Ms. Whitkins.
Sit.”
    The way he said “sit” makes
me suspect his company is a dog obedience school. Pippa plops down in a chair. Jackson
watches me, or maybe the dress, as I sit. After a pause, he takes his seat.
    “My brother is turning twenty-five
and I promised to throw him a party.”
    “And you chose me because…”
    He smiles. “I had your number
in my phone.” He’s enjoying this. I just have to remember I can walk out of his
office anytime.
    Pippa pipes up, “Oh, he’s got
your number, all right.”
    Jackson turns to her, and
pins her with his glare. “That will be all. Wait for me in the lobby.”
    Pippa whines, “Yes, sir.”
    Jackson sighs. “I’m telling you
for the last time. Call me Jackson. ”
    “Yes, Jackson.” She stands,
flips her hair, and leaves through the secret door.
    Well, that was awkward. I
debate working the topic of enabling into the conversation, and quickly dismiss
that idea. The less I’m involved with his personal life, the better.
    Jackson clears his throat and
snaps me out of my reverie. “My event team has arranged for the birthday party
at Il Fratello Fortunati.”
    “I thought you said he was
turning twenty-five, not fifty. And have you seen the kitchen? I’m all for old-world
charm, but they take it a little far.”
    “It seems the health
department agrees with you. They closed it down. And now I don’t have a venue,
caterer, or an event team, since they’re all in Brussels preparing for our media
conference on Monday.”
    I scribble inside my notebook
so it looks like I’m interested. “And when is his birthday?”
    “Friday.”
    Is he kidding me? “Next
Friday? A week from today?”
    “Which is why I need you.” He
pulls out a checkbook. “Think of it as the start of a mutually beneficial
relationship. Ever