Playing Her Cards Right: Choose Me. Jo Leigh

THIS part one of a series,” Charlie said, as if he was asking her for a fry. “Some of which would feature Fashion Week, but not all. Tonight there’s a party at Chelsea Piers. I was hoping you would join me.”

      Bree didn’t choke, but she did cough. Mostly to hide her astonishment, and get herself in check. “What do you mean by series?”

      “Wednesday’s open, but Thursday night is another Fashion Week party. Friday, there’s a premiere. Have you heard about Courtesan?”

      Had she heard about Courtesan? It was a major motion picture from a major studio starring major movie stars, and she’d wanted to see it since she’d caught the first ad. Inside, she jumped about five feet off the ground. For him, she nodded and took a sip of tea. “I have.”

      “I’ve got something else Saturday night but I’m not sure what. Either a perfume party or a book thing. Anyway, I’d need you, tentatively, through Saturday night. Maybe more, possibly less. It all depends on the number of hits, the comment activity. Could that work for you?”

      To even pretend she had to think about it was useless. He’d know she was bluffing. “Scheduling wouldn’t be the issue. I’d make it work, even if I have to get Rebecca to make my frozen lunches.

      “That’s the thing Rebecca does at St. Marks, right?”

      “How we met.”

      “She’s gonna love this.” Now he didn’t even try to hide his smile. It was the other Charlie, the charming cousin of her friend, the man who’d kissed her silly.

      Bree cleared her throat before meeting his gaze. “What do you mean?”

      “She’s going to think the series was her idea. She’ll be insufferable.”

      “Ah.” Bree popped a fry as she fought against another pang. This one was even more foolish. She’d thought for a second there that Rebecca would love the fact that she and Charlie would continue seeing each other. Ridiculous.

      But come on, this was better than dating. Sex for someone like Charlie lasted one night. He couldn’t even fake interest the next morning. In the long run, what he was offering was more than her paltry dreams had imagined. He’d just shortened her five-year plan by half. “I still want input.”

      “It’s my blog, Bree. People read it for my take.”

      “I don’t want to come off looking like a fool.”

      “Is that how you read any of those articles?”

      “No.”

      “We can draw something up, something we can both agree to. If the series works, it will be because people like my take on seeing my world through your eyes. It’s in my best interest to make you relatable and sympathetic.”

      “Okay. But I think I would be even more relatable if I write some of the blogs myself.”

      He winced. “I don’t know. My name brings the party to the yard. Sorry.”

      “Granted. Doesn’t mean there can’t be a sidebar. You’ve done that before.”

      Charlie used his napkin, wiping off the mayo by chance. After a longish pause, he nodded. “No guarantees. I’ll read what you write, see how it works. I’ll have my attorney draw up something to cover the rest of the week, but I’d like to post the blog I wrote today. What do you say?”

      She knew she was taking a risk, not signing on the dotted line, but what the hell. Rebecca would have something to say if Charlie messed with her, but even more than that, Bree’s gut told her to go for it. She held out her hand.

      The shiver that ran through her body when they shook was strictly in response to the opportunity. Nothing more.

      CHARLIE WALKED BREE TO HER office building, a giant among giants, blocking out most of the sky. It was windy in the street, and he put his arm around Bree’s shoulders, pulling her close. He liked keeping her warm, liked the way her hair tickled his chin.

      “Charlie?” She had to raise her voice as they walked, so he bent his head a little.

      “Yes?”

      “Assuming the paperwork is fine and we end up going to … things. What are we going as?”

      “Uh, oh. Like last night. Together, but not a couple. If someone asks, say we’re friends. They’ll all assume it’s more, but that’s not a bad thing. People like trying to figure things out, make connections, even if they’re false. And gossip pays the bills.”

      She didn’t speak, but she did slow her step.

      “Bree?”

      She stopped. Charlie turned to face her, not liking the troubled look she wore. “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing. It’s fine. I want to make sure we understand each other. If we do this, it’s a business arrangement.”

      “Yeah.” The way she stared at him didn’t make sense. He was handing her a gift here. Sure, he was going to make money from the deal, but she would win, too. He should have asked her what she wanted. From her love of fashion, her work at the advertising agency, it wasn’t hard to figure her area of interest, but it was sloppy of him not to get specific.

      “I keep my business life and my personal life separate,” she said.

      It took him a beat too long to make the connection. Not because she was being unreasonable. On the contrary, she was being smart. He wasn’t used to it, though. The women who came home with him didn’t think of the sex as anything outside of the job. Neither had he, not since he’d started the blog, for God’s sake. Bree was not from his world. That was the point.

      In fact, she was a romantic. Not simply around the issue of sex, but about designers, New York, glamour, beauty, all of it. Too bad it wouldn’t last.

      Oddly, he didn’t rush to agree with her. He’d assumed they’d sleep together. He’d wanted to. If the series got results, they were looking at a week, maybe two. That would be a long stretch to go without. Especially when she would be with him most every night. In the car, at his place.

      “Charlie?”

      “Right. No, you’re right. Strictly professional. Good thinking.”

      Her smile wasn’t very victorious. In fact, he was tempted to follow her as she backed away from him, just to see her better.

      “I’m really late,” she said, calling out now, against the wind. “Send me the contract, and I’ll take a look at it. And the details about tonight. And, thanks,” she said, but the word was carried away as she got swallowed by dozens of people all heading for the same entrance.

      He lost her before she went inside. He knew BBDA took up four floors of the skyscraper, could picture where the copywriters sat. But he didn’t go after her. He’d see her tonight. He pulled out his cell as he went to the corner to hail a cab. He needed to get the blog update done, call the attorney, make arrangements with the stylist.

      After he told the cabbie his address, he looked back at Bree’s building. No more nights like last night. Well, damn.

      BETWEEN THE PHOTOGRAPHERS blinding her and the constant tweets, Bree barely had time to enjoy the party. It would have been overwhelming regardless. This event was much smaller. Maybe five hundred people?

      Put on by one of the most sought-after design celebrities, it was being held at The Lighthouse in Chelsea Piers. The huge room had been decked out in Asian-themed splendor with floating lanterns, Zen gardens artfully placed between tables and paper dragons so large and beautifully decorated they were works of art. Even the view of the Hudson River from the floor-to-ceiling windows stole her breath, and that was before she met a mind-boggling parade of fashion idols and A, B and C-list stars.

      The good and bad news was that Charlie had been even more extraordinary, which she hadn’t thought possible. He hadn’t left her side, which was wonderful, but