Plain Jane's Prince Charming. Melissa MccloneЧитать онлайн книгу.
“I would like your help. I…I probably need it.” What if it didn’t work out? What if you’re not sincere? What if…? “But have you thought this over? I mean, really considered what’s involved in organizing an event? What if something came up and you couldn’t help? Where would that leave…?” Me. “The benefit?”
He reached across the table, covered her hand with his and gave a gentle squeeze. “I won’t let you down, Jane.”
How many times had she heard those words or something similar before? Just once she wanted to believe that someone would follow through. That someone cared enough. That someone wouldn’t leave her alone.
So all alone.
She stared at his hand, large and warm over hers. His palm and fingers were rough, callused, as if he labored outside instead of working in an office. She didn’t mind his touch. She liked it. Uh-oh. Jane tugged her hand away and grabbed her drink.
“So what do you say?” Chase asked.
What other choice did she have? She wanted the benefit to be successful. That was the only goal. She might have the “passion” to put the event together, but she couldn’t do it without a sponsor. She’d be stupid if she said no. “Yes.”
“Great, because I have an amazing location.”
Jane held her iced cappuccino in midair. She should have known. He’d just gotten involved and he wanted to choose the venue. So much for any warm and fuzzy feelings about working together. She might as well get used to it. “Where is that?”
“My winery.”
The cool glass nearly slipped from her fingers. She placed the cup on the table. Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. “You have a winery?”
“In Stafford.”
Better yet. Stafford, an upscale area south of Portland, consisted of rolling hills of green covered with estates, farms, equestrian centers, golf courses and wineries. A benefit there would draw more attention than one at the Hearth. And Chase couldn’t drop his involvement if he hosted it, since his name and reputation would be on the line.
“How many guests can the winery accommodate?” she asked.
Chase raised a brow. “How many do you want it to accommodate?”
Right answer. “And we can just…use it?”
“All you have to do is pick the date.”
This sounded too perfect. And that gave her pause. Nothing could be this easy. “That’s all?”
He nodded. “Surprised?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I hope I don’t sound rude, but what do you get out of this? Publicity for the winery?”
“No.” He thought for a moment. “But that’s not a bad idea. Publicity would help both of us out.”
Until what he needed interfered with what she needed for the fundraiser.
“But all I really want to do is to help a little girl and her mother.” An upside-down V formed above the bridge of Chase’s nose. “What do you get out of all of this?”
“I get to help someone I care about,” she said, feeling guilty for thinking he had ulterior motives. “Someone who’s in no position to do it all on her own.”
“We’re not so different, Jane Dawson.”
She begged to disagree, but couldn’t. Not when his sincere tone told Jane he meant every word. And that meant she had not only found a sponsor, but real help.
Realization that she’d succeeded pummeled her with the force of a howling blast of icy wind from the Columbia River Gorge. She had everything she wanted. Everything plus more.
Thanks to Chase Ryder.
“What?” he asked.
“I…I’m…” Feeling inadequate, yet grateful, she shifted in her chair. Wrung her hands. Tried to remain seated so she wouldn’t run over to Chase and hug him. Not that she wanted to hug him. Just thank him. “Is your name really Kris Kringle?”
“No.” Chase laughed. “Though I dressed up like Santa Claus for my sister’s kids last year.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Jane pictured Chase wearing a white beard and red suit and being surrounded by laughing children, but then she imagined herself kissing Santa, rather Chase. That would definitely complicate matters. Blinking the image away, she resolved to remain strictly focused on the benefit. No more daydreaming and no more handholding. “So when can I see this winery of yours?”
He glanced at his watch. No doubt he had to get back to the office. “How about now?”
She gulped. “Sure.”
Driving south on Interstate 5 with the pounding bass from a rock and roll song filling the Escalade’s interior, Chase glanced sideways at Jane. She stared at the passing scenery—concrete, buildings and billboards—her mouth tightly closed.
So much for putting a smile back on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. He had assumed offering his assistance would do the trick, but that had only upset her more. He didn’t get it. Or her. Most women watched his every move, tried to impress him or boost his ego. But not Jane.
“If you want to listen to something different—” he drove onto the I-205 off-ramp “—let me know.”
“Thanks,” she said. “But this music is fine.”
Another mile went by. Another song played. Jane continued gazing out the window. No forced conversation trying to find common interests. No name-dropping trying to show she belonged in his world. No…anything.
Needless chatter bothered Chase, but he found her silence both refreshing and bewildering. Other women would have talked his ears off. Why wasn’t Jane doing the same?
Sure she wasn’t his usual type. He dated professional women—lawyers, executives, venture capitalists—who weren’t clingy and who had their money, though that hadn’t kept most from wanting his, too. But Jane was still a woman. And he was a man, a rich, handsome man considered to be a “catch” if he believed his own press. Shouldn’t she be flirting with him at least a little? Was she not interested in him or playing hard to get?
He would get the chance to find out.
Maybe that would compensate for the work he’d volunteered for with the fundraiser. He wanted to help the little girl, but now after the reality had set in, Chase had no idea how to make this work. He had projects to oversee, an upcoming merger and a two-foot stack of papers on his desk.
Wait until his best friend found out what he had done.
You’re a sucker for a pretty face.
Sam’s words had been dead-on this time, and he would never let Chase live it down.
“Nice car.” Jane ran her hand along the edge of her leather seat. “It’s more comfortable than my couch.”
He noticed her trimmed but unpolished fingernails. Practical, like Jane herself. “That’s a Cadillac for you, but you should see how it handles off-road.”
“Why would you take a luxury car off-road?”
He picked up the disapproval in her voice. His normal answer “because I can” wasn’t going to cut it. He would settle for the truth.
“I tried a shortcut once and ended up on forest service road then found myself on a logging road.” He patted the dashboard. “It was a little hairy, but the car came through fine. I doubt I’ll do it again, though.”
“Smart move.”
“You’re right.” Finally he had her attention. Good. Now he had to keep it. “That’s why I bought a four-wheel drive truck. And a couple