12. Stuart
STUART
The PR team arranged a car service to drive me from downtown LA to Beverly Hills for the fundraising lunch today.
Unfortunately, Brooke turned down my offer to share the ride. She insisted on meeting me at the event, arguing it would save her time if she didn’t have to travel from her apartment to the office first.
That means it’s a lonelier journey than I’d hoped. It’s also frustrating because her excuse was likely a ruse, given an earlier comment that she had a short commute to work. My guess is that she’s avoiding alone time with me.
Of course, I respect her choice, but she’s making it for the wrong reason. She’s afraid someone will think she’s shagging a client. Apparently, that would break a rule for lawyers and be career suicide.
Such a rule seems rather harsh. Surely there are exceptions. And if not, in this case, it doesn’t matter. As I explained to her, I’m not a client, and my invitation last night was only for dinner. Of course, I’d hoped it would lead to more. But that would’ve been entirely up to her.
If I’m lucky, she’ll recognize her mistake and change her mind when she realizes the rule doesn’t apply to us.
To improve the odds, I’ve ensured we’ll have a chance to chat during lunch today. She’ll be seated next to me at the Foundation’s fundraiser. That will give me a chance to explain that I respect her boundaries and integrity, but she doesn’t have to sacrifice either to spend time with me.
It wasn’t easy to arrange the last-minute seating change. It required an excuse to the donor originally assigned to my neighboring seat. After some thought, I told the PR team I have some pressing legal questions for Brooke. It’s a stretch, but I’ll think of something to ask.
When my driver pulls under the portico at the Beverly Hills hotel, I see Brooke exiting the car in front of us. My body reacts instantly to her perfectly toned, bare legs and red-soled, black stilettos as she steps out of the vehicle. I can’t take my eyes off her.
What’s wrong with me? They’re just legs, albeit beautiful ones I’d love to have wrapped around my waist. In fact, her dark blue suit, cream-colored, satin blouse, and black Tahitian pearls are incredibly conservative attire.
Somehow that look is sexier than hell. I can’t help envisioning my hands sliding that skirt upward and exploring every inch of her.
Even better, I’d throw her over my shoulder, carry her into a private room, and see if she tastes as good as I imagine.
I shake my head, chuckling to myself. That scenario will have to wait until she agrees we can go out to dinner without putting her job in jeopardy. If I can win that battle, then we’ll see just how much fun we can pack into the rest of the week.
Mmm. So many ideas. So little time. But first, rule-following Brooke needs to let loose a little.
I debate whether to catch up with her now or wait to meet her in the hotel’s ballroom. I choose the latter, hoping that a little anticipation on her part will work in my favor.
Taking my time, I wait in the back seat of the black sedan until it pulls to a stop beside the door of this iconic Beverly Hills hotel.
My driver hurries to open the rear door, and I exit, slowly buttoning my suit jacket as I stand on the curb.
Observers would assume I’ve no care in the world.
Fortunately, my jacket hides my growing desire for Brooke.
Walking inside the lobby, I meet up with the three Foundation board members who are waiting for me. Together, we find our way to the ballroom for the fundraiser.
I’ve stayed at the hotel before but never attended any event in this ballroom. It’s quite lovely.
Giant crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, glistening with light. A formal, elevated stage fills the far end. The center area of the ballroom is unusual in that it’s sunken several steps below the entrance and side seating areas.
Hammered copper pillars and black metal railings border the inner edge of the upper seating areas, preventing people from accidentally falling into the sunken center portion.
Steps at the entrance and on each side allow easy flow between the two levels.
Tables for eight occupy both the lower and upper levels. The tables are set with white linens with glass. Silver urns hold white and lavender flowers at the center of each table.
The overall look is elegant. The décor is rather modern by European standards. Ironically, it’s likely considered vintage for the US.
Fairly quickly, a member of the hotel recognizes us and leads the way through the sea of tables. Dad told me that all 800 seats were sold at the premium ticket price, so as expected, the room is at capacity.
As we weave between the tables, I shake hands and murmur thank-yous along the way.
My gaze pans the room in search of Brooke.
Finally, I spot her on the far-right side.
She’s chatting with one of our sponsors.
Making my excuses to the board members, I linger in the middle of the room, watching Brooke interact with an older gentleman and lady.
She’s smiling and animated, charming them both. I’m impressed. She’s an asset to the charity and her firm. She’s also working her charms on me without even trying.
Gradually, I venture toward her. As I near the edge of the ballroom, I stop, waiting to catch her attention.
As she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, I watch with desire, wishing it was my fingers running through her long curls. When her head turns and our eyes finally meet, heat races through me. We move toward each other as if a magnetic force pulls us together.
“You look lovely. Thank you for being here,” I whisper into her ear, my voice huskier than usual. I shake her offered hand, enjoying the physical touch.
“You’re welcome. Just tell me how I can help. I’m happy to do anything you need,” she says with a flirty smile as her eyes lower to my lips.
Apparently catching herself, she resets her features to a well-rehearsed professional demeanor and quickly looks away. But I didn’t miss her initial reaction or the hint of suggestion in her tone.
I’d love to reply with an equally clever retort, but the last thing I want to do is spook her again. So, instead, I reply, “Follow me. Our seats are near the front. I have a few things I’d like to discuss over lunch.”
“Oh. Okay. Is there a problem?” Worry crosses her face.
I hedge. “Just a question or two.”
Placing my hand on the small of her back, I guide her to the table in front of the podium, pulling out her chair.
“Thanks, but I thought I was supposed to sit at the table my law firm purchased with its sponsorship.”
“This is more convenient. I want to discuss the upcoming events and deal with a few of my questions over lunch.”
“Of course. That makes sense.”
I greet the others at the table and introduce Brooke as the representative of one of the sponsors. Her law firm’s sponsorship easily explains her presence.
After we’re seated, it doesn’t take long for the initial chatter of new table mates to begin to fade.
I lean toward Brooke, our arms brushing. “It looks like we’re about to be saved from more small talk about the weather.” I nod in the direction of a server who is arriving with the salad course.”
She hides a soft snicker with her hand, whispering, “You know that light banter is a requirement at lunches like this. Hopefully, your charm will open their wallets when the auction starts.”
As I pass the silver breadbasket to Brooke, our hands touch, and my foot grazes hers under the table. Each incidental contact is pure torture, sending warmth and tingles through me. Even the sound of her voice is alluring as I listen to her chat with our tablemates.
I’m aching to pull her into my arms and properly kiss her. It’s too bad I can’t.
After we finish our salads, the emcee introduces me. I step onto the elevated stage and stop behind the podium, plastering on a bright smile and summoning my enthusiasm. I won’t let Dad down.
When the applause wanes, I begin, “It is my immense honor to stand here on behalf of my father, the Earl of Sandridge. He sends his apologies for his absence due to his recent illness. Fortunately, he’s on the mend.
” I pause, as the crowd murmurs sounds of relief at my reassurance that Dad is recovering.
Now, back to the business at hand, I say, “As you know, finding a solution to the pollution of rivers, lakes, and aquifers is incredibly important to the earl. In fact, it should be important to all of us. Unfortunately, most of the world does not understand that agriculture is a major contributor to the problem. The Foundation’s goal is to educate the public and motivate them to insist that governments address this issue.
Without that support, farmers will not be able to afford the necessary changes.
You are one of the keys to the solution. ”
I’m interrupted by applause. Continuing, I say, “Thank you for your support. Today’s auction will make a significant difference as will the upcoming premiere of the movie, Water Everywhere, None to Drink.
But before we proceed with the remainder of lunch and the auction, I’d like to introduce the Foundation’s board members who are present.
Please rise as I call your name. We have Mr. Broadmoor, Mr. Champion, and Ms. Davidson.
Everyone, join me in a round of applause for them.
Their hard work and diligence are raising awareness, which will help alleviate water pollution due to improper agricultural practices. ”
The board members stand and take perfunctory bows, giving quick waves to the crowd before retaking their seats.
When the crowd quietens, I say, “I’d like to ask one of the Foundation’s board members to say a few words.
Please help me welcome Ms. Jen Davidson to the stage.
She’s an award-winning author and one of the founding board members of my father’s foundation. ”
I turn toward the stage’s steps, raising my hands to applaud as she slowly ascends the stairs.