Chapter Fourteen #3
“I knew you would be.” Candace adjusted the hang of her tuxedo jacket.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go shake hands and be affable to strangers.
” She gave Maggie a grin that made her feel part of an inside joke, and Maggie could see how she would be excellent at running an organization rooted in interpersonal relations.
Maggie watched Candace glide over to a couple who was entering, greeting them and shaking hands, all smiles and warmth. “She’s impressive.”
Blake followed Maggie’s gaze. “PlantSeed was her brainchild, and she grew it from a small nonprofit to the collaborative it is today. She’s the one who hired me.”
“I read about her.” Maggie had done a deep dive of the organization early in her time living with Blake, and she’d brushed up on more info after agreeing to be his plus-one. “I can’t imagine putting all this together.”
“It’s a lot of moving parts.” Blake scanned the room, which was starting to fill up with people. He gave her a grin. “Ready to get your schmooze on?”
Maggie tossed her hair back. “Let’s charm some rich fuckers.”
Blake paused, visibly taken aback, then laughed. “Absolutely. Let’s go.”
He put a hand on her lower back to guide her, and all Maggie’s laughter dissolved in a sudden wave of awareness.
She should have anticipated this side effect of her dress.
He would be touching her, fingers directly on her skin, and she hadn’t expected the way desire would bubble up at inopportune moments.
His touch made her feel completely bare.
Then there was the fact of how little she actually wore under this dress, a scant scrap of lace underwear, and even though she looked composed and glamorous, she felt ready to come undone.
Fortunately, she soon had other things to focus on.
Blake introduced her to everyone on the PlantSeed board of trustees, first, then some of the community organizers who were here as guests, and by then the room was filling up and it was time for the big fish.
She met a few private investors, a handful of finance bros, several lawyers, a smattering of politicians, and countless members of the “old money” crowd who didn’t really do anything anymore.
She had time to grab a glass of champagne from a passing server, which she was careful not to drink too quickly on an empty stomach, and she laughed and smiled and looked adoringly at Blake the entire time.
Blake was good at all this. She’d always read him as shy, and a career in fundraising appeared like an odd fit.
But seeing him making small talk and laughing at jokes, relaxed and comfortable, made the Blake she knew before seem like a stranger.
Or maybe this Blake was the stranger. He couldn’t be both, right?
“Well, look who it is.”
Maggie would have known that voice anywhere, and she made herself turn at a steady pace rather than whirling around to face Arnold Chauvel.
She’d known he was going to be here, but she’d managed to put it out of her mind until then.
“What a pleasure to see you, Mr. Chauvel,” she said, extending her hand.
Instead of shaking it, he bent over to kiss it, and an uncomfortable shiver went down her spine.
“Please, it’s Arnold.” He smiled, giving that perfect thousand-watt smile. “Even if you are working for me.”
Another chill. Of course he would remind her.
She gave him what was hopefully a winning smile and drew Blake closer to her by his arm.
“Pardon my manners,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm.
“Arnold, I’d like to introduce Blake Peabody, fundraising coordinator for PlantSeed.
” She decided to skip the “boyfriend” line and let Chauvel assume whatever he wanted. “Blake, this is …”
“Arnold Chauvel, of course.” Blake shook Chauvel’s hand with no visible discomfort even though he’d told Maggie last week what a scumbag he found this guy. “I’m honored to have you here, at our benefit. Your support means a lot to this community.”
“The pleasure is all mine, thank you. You do such important work.” He clapped Blake on the shoulder. Chauvel had a presence that filled up the space, and he somehow managed to loom even though he was only an inch taller than Blake. “Did Marguerite tell you how she knows me?”
It was such a weird thing to say that Maggie blinked a few times. He had a certain leer about him, like he was insinuating an intimacy that they definitely did not share.
“Well, you run a media company, and she’s a journalist, so it makes sense that your paths would cross.” Blake gave him the blandest smile.
Arnold chuckled. “A journalist. Right, right. Quite a range of topics in her ‘journalism,’ wouldn’t you say?
” Maggie could practically hear the air quotes in his words.
He effortlessly put her on the defensive, ready to snap something about how her work mattered even if she wasn’t going for the Pulitzer, but she couldn’t find the words.
Blake could, though, and he slid his arm around her waist to pull her close like he’d done it a million times.
“She’s remarkable, isn’t she? I tell her all the time, I’m honored to have a girlfriend who can write about anything.
” Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, right at the top of her cheekbone, near her hairline.
His lips lingered, soft and affectionate, like he didn’t want to pull away.
Maggie closed her eyes, and her sudden smile was genuine.
God, this man. Gratitude surged within her.
“Hmm.” Chauvel made a noncommittal noise.
When Maggie looked up again, he was staring at them both, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Yes, it is quite a talent.” He smiled the smile of a man who was ready to end a conversation.
“Blake, Marguerite, a pleasure to see you both. I hope you enjoy your evening.”
When he walked away, Maggie sagged against Blake, who still had his arm around her. “Thank you,” she said, sudden emotion making her throat tight. “I didn’t know how he was going to be.”
“He’s an asshole, obviously.” Blake gave her a squeeze. “I hope that was OK. I didn’t want to lay it on too thick.”
“No, it’s good.” Maggie sighed shakily. “It’s more than good. It’s exactly right.”
A server came up to tell them dinner was being served, and Blake shifted his hand to her back again to guide her to their seats.
On the dais at the front of the ballroom, a string quartet began to play, and the music helped relax the tension in Maggie’s shoulders.
“I wish I’d never taken that contract with him.
” She hadn’t realized she was going to say it until the words were out.
“Can you still get out of it?” Blake guided her around another table.
She wanted to say no. “Technically yes, but it’s complicated.” She grimaced. She hadn’t told Blake any of the specifics, and now didn’t seem like the time. “He’s got leverage. Breaking the contract …” She trailed off, then shook her head, throat tight. “It would be disastrous. For me and for Cora.”
Blake looked over at her, frowning. “Are you in trouble? Is he blackmailing you? Because if he is, Maggie, I’ll find a way—”
She shook her head, interrupting. “No, no, it’s not that.” Not really, anyway. “He’s paying me well. But it’s complicated. I appreciate your concern, really, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry.” Blake stroked his thumb across her back where his hand still rested. “If it’s any comfort, I’m taking a bunch of money from him tonight.”
Maggie smiled. “That is a comfort, thanks.”
“The contract,” he said as they reached their table. “It’s nothing unsavory, right?”
“No, just writing.” Maggie wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sleeping with the guy.”
“Oh, I would never think that.” He made a face. “You have much better taste than to sleep with Captain Spray-Tan.”
She laughed in surprise. “I like that. I might use that.”
He pulled out her chair for her. “Please do. But after he writes the check, not before, all right? The evening is still young.”
Maggie took her seat. “I promise.”
Fortunately, Chauvel was not at their table.
Whoever had done the table assignments had seated them with much older donors, the kind who would likely be impressed by Blake’s youthful professionalism.
And his good looks, Maggie thought, seeing a couple of older women looking his way and whispering together with mischievous smiles.
Maggie liked them already. They went around the table with introductions, and Blake kept up with the girlfriend story, which immediately launched the rest of the table into conversations about how everyone had met their partners, all while they ate soup and salad and passed around the basket of rolls.
Their “we were roommates” story got a lot of attention and interest, although Maggie was pretty sure none of these people had ever needed a roommate to pay the bills.
Maybe that was some of the attraction; the quaintness of how the other half lives.
“You two make an adorable couple,” said an older man across from them, whose wife nodded approvingly.
Maggie flicked through her memory. She was determined to remember everyone’s names tonight.
And she was going to do it without writing notes on her palms. He was Benjamin, went by Benji, and she was Geraldine. Both retired.
“Any plans for the future?” Geraldine asked, leaning in with an inquisitive expression; but fortunately the dinners arrived and Maggie was spared.
“I got you the steak.” Blake gestured to her plate and spoke quietly enough that she was the only one who would hear. “Steak or chicken. I forgot to ask, so I guessed. Plus you said once that when an organization is paying, you should always take the most expensive option.”
Maggie nodded. He had been listening to her. She shouldn’t be surprised; he was always listening. “I don’t want to bankrupt PlantSeed, though.”