years to pretend to be her lover. No distraction there. No, sir.
The problem was, he fit her criteria to a tee. Which was unprecedented. She’d never seen a man who had it all: the looks, the brains, the wit, the strong hands, the taste in clothes. Her only hope was getting to know him. No way he was everything he purported to be. Impossible.
He was undoubtedly narcissistic. Given his quest, probably chauvinistic, too. All she had to do was play it cool until he let his true colors shine, and voila, the problem would be solved.
It’d better be solved.
She poured her wine into one of the crystal glasses set on a silver tray by the wet bar, then sank down into the white-satin chair next to the window. Her view was of Central Park, but she stared without seeing it as she thought of the daunting tasks in front of her.
Tomorrow started the festivities, beginning with a makeover party for ten lucky radio listeners, to be held at Bloomingdale’s. All using New Dawn cosmetics, of course. Tomorrow night was the grand-opening party at the Panorama, the newest and most highly sought-after nightclub in the city.
Then there was the dessert-and-jazz party at the Rainbow Room, an evening cruise on the Hudson River, Geocaching in Central Park, and finally, the banquet right here at the hotel. By the end of this little adventure, she’d be ready for the funny farm, but in the meantime, she had to make sure the media was happy, the models showed up and acted like civilized human beings, the celebrities were catered to, and that every detail of every event was taken care of with no muss and utterly no fuss.
Thank God for Marla. And Marla’s troops. Jessica was really lucky to have them. And she mustn’t forget that every event had a professional planner in charge of it. Which did comfort, but didn’t assuage, the final responsibility, which lay directly on her shoulders. Sure, it was Owen who signed the checks, but everyone in the business knew who was really in charge.
This was her ticket. Her chance to soar. If she blew it, she doubted her career could recover. If she succeeded, she’d be well on her way to the dream.
Which meant there was no room at all for Dan in any other capacity but paid help. Maybe it wasn’t too late to tell him she’d changed her mind. She could call up an escort service and hire some lovely hunk of maleness, preferably someone gay, who would be silent for a fee.
She’d put Dan’s phone number in her purse, and as she rose to fetch it, there was a knock at the door.
She crossed the white marble floor, then looked through the peephole. Owen. Dammit. After a deep breath, she opened the door, but not very far. “Owen, hi. What’s up?”
He smiled at her. That goofy, love-struck grin that made her want to bitch-slap him silly. “How do you like it?”
“The suite is fabulous, but too extravagant. My God, it must cost a fortune.”
“Two fortunes.” He stepped closer, clearly expecting her to let him inside. “But you’re worth it.”
“Thank you,” she said, using the one technique that had merited any success. A simple response. No embellishment. Owen had some difficulty coming up with original thought.
“We need to talk about tomorrow.”
“We do?”
He nodded. She spied little drops of perspiration beading his forehead where his hairline used to be. At least he didn’t do the comb-over thing. That would have been the icing on the cake. As it was, he wasn’t bad-looking. Slightly pudgy, not too tall. She used to find him vaguely handsome, until he’d changed from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Horny Hyde. “Yeah, you know. The details.”
She gave him her most reassuring grin. “That’s why you hired me, Owen. To take care of the details. So you don’t have to worry in the least. The makeovers are going to be a smash, and so is the opening party. All you have to do is show up at Panorama at eight tomorrow night. Which reminds me, I have to go make a couple of calls-”
“Jess,” he said, planting his foot firmly in the door and using his shoulder to ease himself in. “I have some concerns about the party.”
She wanted to shove him right back outside, but thought better of it. This would all come to an end soon, and then she wouldn’t have to worry anymore. In the meantime, however, she wanted to maximize the distance between them, so she closed the door and walked over to the wet bar. “Soda?”
“No thanks,” he said, his glee at gaining entrance far too evident on his face.
“You have concerns?”
He immediately adopted an air of thoughtfulness as his gaze shifted to the bedroom door. “What’s our TV coverage on this thing?”
She’d told him before. Written him memos. But she said none of that. “Entertainment Tonight, E!, Access Hollywood, MTV, VH1, and three cable shows.”
He nodded. “Good, good. And what about celebrities? Are they all verified?”
“We’re sending twelve limos, but most of the crowd is arriving on its own.”
“Who, exactly?”
She bit back a sigh. “Julia Roberts, Keanu Reeves, Reese Witherspoon, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Freddie Prinze Jr., Nicole Kidman, and oodles more. Should I ask Marla to come up with the list?”
“No,” he said too quickly. “That’s great. Just great.”
“But it won’t be just great if I can’t make the calls I need to, so…” She headed toward the door. He didn’t follow.
“I’m sure the calls can wait a few minutes.”
“No, Owen, they can’t.”
The expression on his face changed again. This time to lovelorn puppy. “Jess, can’t you see what a team we make? Isn’t it obvious?”
“Yes, absolutely. The next week will prove it. We’re going to make New Dawn a household name.”
He walked toward her, holding his hands out as if he meant to grasp her, which was simply out of the question. Only, he was blocking her easy exit. In order to get around him, she’d have to practically leap over the chaise. “That’s not the partnership I’m talking about.”
“There is no other partnership, Owen.”
“But there can be. Should be.”
“You have a partner already.”
He shook his head as he took those last steps, angling himself so that now she truly was caught. His right hand touched her forearm. “I don’t. Honestly. I’ve told you before. Ellen is a great mom-”
“I’ve got a partner, Owen.”
He stopped. Blinked. Kept his hand right where it was. “What?”
“A partner. A man. I have someone in my life.”
First, a flash of hurt, then confusion, quickly followed by doubt. “What are you talking about? You don’t date.”
“I don’t talk about dating.”
“You’re always at the office.”
“No, I’m not. I do have a life. Which is private. But there is someone, and it’s serious.”
Doubt became out-and-out disbelief. “Who?”
“You don’t know him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Not that it matters, but Dan.”
“Dan what?”
The annoyance factor was starting to shift into the furious factor. “Crawford.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Exactly.”
“How did you meet?”
“In school. Ages ago.”
“And he just showed up again?”
“That’s right. He showed up, and the old flames were rekindled.”
Owen finally removed his hand from her arm. “Where does he live?”
