Grace stiffened, torn between flattery and annoyance at his proposition. “I’m not here to hit on you,” she clarified.
His lips drew together. “That’s a shame. Because you offering to go to bed with me is about the only thing you could say right now that I would say yes to.”
She ripped her hand out of his. “Mr. West. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I promise you I’m not the type to hit on strangers in the street.”
His dark eyes quickly moved up and down her body. The glance was quick enough that she didn’t have time to fidget, but slow enough to let her know he didn’t care whether she knew what he was doing.
Grace mentally took stock of her outfit. Her jeans were dressed up with the high-heeled boots she’d normally never wear for walking through the city, but she’d wanted to make a good impression on Simon.
“Let me save you some time, Ms. Bell. I’m not taking on new clients. I’m attracted to you and would love nothing better than to get a chance to impress you, but I just don’t have the time or inclination to get pulled into the mess you’ve found yourself in.”
Grace gritted her teeth as he slammed the metaphorical door in her face. “Mr. West, please hear me out. I never did a thing with Robert Bar. He’s setting me up, and I have no idea why. I just need someone to make sure my business survives until this all blows over.”
He raised a brow. “From what I heard, you and the senator were already doing plenty of ‘blowing over.’”
Her cheeks tingled as they filled with the blush that hadn’t gone away in the week since the scandal broke. She had no idea where it went wrong! One second, she was sharing an elevator with a senator in the swanky Hanson Hotel, and the next she’d tripped on a heel and fell right into the arms of the silver fox Robert Bar. Normally she’d just giggle off the embarrassing incident, apologize and move on, but when the doors opened, she’d been blinded by camera flashes.
“I never slept with Robert Bar,” she said through clenched teeth. At this point, she should just have those six words printed on the back of her business cards to hand out to the accusing public.
Simon arched a red brow. “That’s not how the good senator tells it.”
“That’s the problem! He’s running around every media outlet he can find, apologizing for cheating on his wife with me, and I only met the guy that one time in the elevator. I am an event planner for a very elite clientele, Mr. West. No one will hire me if they think I’m going to boink their husbands. I need to clear my name.”
He carefully looked her up and down. “I’m no public relations expert.”
Her confidence was bolstered when he didn’t immediately shoot her down again. She took a small step closer. “I know. But I’ve heard about you. You’re talked about in all circles and your instinct for reading people is practically legendary.”
His mouth ticked up at the flattery. “Funny, I thought most people thought I was a prick.”
“Oh, they totally do. But a prick they admire and respect. People, especially powerful ones, don’t want anyone to be able to see in their heads, but they need you. Mr. West—Simon—I need you. This man is destroying my reputation and my business. I’ve already been dropped by two clients this week. If I don’t move fast, I’m going to be closing doors within the month.” She held her breath as she waited for his features to soften even the slightest bit.
“Ms. Bell, I admit you’ve found yourself in a tight situation, but unfortunately I’m not taking on new clients.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. “And to be honest, you probably couldn’t afford my fee anyway. Good luck with your problem.” And just like that, any chance she had of putting her life back together turned his back on her and continued down the busy street.
CHAPTER TWO
Simon’s legs ached as he pounded up the stairs, but he didn’t mind the exertion. Days like today, when his mind raced with various probabilities and outcomes, he enjoyed the opportunity to zone out until all he could see, think, or feel was his body. Luckily his current consulting job, pulling Green & Sons out of the red, was challenging enough for him to mostly push his troubling thoughts away.
When he reached the tenth floor, he took a few seconds to catch his breath. The climb worked up a bit of a sweat, but he would be back to normal by the time he’d checked his email at his desk. He wasn’t a formal employee, so he was mostly left alone when at the corporate office of the hardware store chain he was helping to restore to its former glory.
Simon didn’t really give a damn about hammers and nails, but he thrived on the challenge of being in a completely new environment. Starting a puzzle unlike any he’d ever done before and putting all the pieces back into place.
Breathing at a normal pace again, he pushed the door open and strode past the receptionist and a few rows of cubicles until he reached the small office he’d been given for the duration of the project. Not his favorite setup, but his fee was high enough that he didn’t complain.
As he waited for the laptop to boot up, he scrolled through his mobile email that had accumulated during the forty-minute walk from his Manhattan apartment to the office. He used to take cabs to his clients every morning, but he found a walk in the morning was so much more beneficial than getting a few emails taken care of.
Once his computer booted up, he opened up the latest earnings report and studied the numbers and percentages. His mind made note of inferences and conclusions with each new page. Something was off. Simon’s brow crinkled as he tried to pinpoint what was bothering him. The numbers on the screen could be better, but were a hell of an improvement over the balances a year ago.
He glanced around, trying to locate what was nagging at him. Everything seemed fine in his office. He didn’t have any pictures or personal items in the temporary work space, but the red pen and pencil he always had handy still sat neatly and perpendicular to the edge of the desk.
What else could be throwing him off? He thought back earlier to the desperate pleas of Grace Bell.
Simon couldn’t forget the image of Grace looking utterly defeated as he’d turned her down. But what the hell was he supposed to do with her? The idea that a respected, at least formerly respected, senator ran out to every news outlet that would take him to declare his infidelity was almost impossible to swallow. The idea that he was lying about having an affair made no sense.
But Grace hadn’t seemed as though she was bullshitting him. Simon had dealt with enough shady characters in his time to recognize the warning signs. Besides, desperation like that was hard to fake.
He tried his best to forget about her, lose himself in the patterns and figures in front of him. No matter what he did, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was missing something.
He considered himself a logical man, more logical than most probably, but he’d learned to trust his gut long ago. So when those big blue eyes popped into his head for the thousandth or so time, he stopped trying to ignore it. Instead, he brought up the Internet browser and typed in Grace Bell.
As expected, the screen was filled with the recent stories about her affair: speculation about when it had started, whether she was the senator’s first mistress, and whether the affair would stop now that it was in the open. The picture that accompanied the article was one Simon was familiar with. Robert held Grace in his arms as she stared wide-eyed at the cameras. There were also other pictures of him keeping his face hidden as he moved past the paparazzi, holding Grace close the entire time.