Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

In the back of her mind, she imagined Jackson James frowning in disapproval at her. He didn’t want her to spend a dime until she was married.

Lori made a face and wrote a bid for one of the children’s paintings. “It’s for a good cause,” she murmured.

Someone jostled her from behind, and her pen went flying.

“Bloody hell, do watch where you’re going,” a male voice said in a British accent. “Excuse me, Miss.”

The sound was so different from the Texas twang she was accustomed to hearing that it immediately caught her attention. She glanced around to find a tall man with floppy brown hair accepting a napkin and an apology from a server. He mopped at his damp jacket.

“Good start,” he muttered. “Spend the rest of the night smelling like a wino.” He glanced up at her. “Did he get any on you?”

She patted her hands over her black dress and shook her head. “No. I think you got the worst of it. Sorry,” she said, feeling pity for him. He looked so frazzled. Cute in a lost-puppy-dog sort of way.

“Par for the day. I should have gone to bed after that flight from London, but I promised a relative I would attend this function for her.”

“Would you like some champagne to drink? Would that help a little?” she asked, waving at a waiter.

“A bottle of scotch would be better,” he muttered. “But thank you. Champagne will be fine. What is this party for, anyway? My stepmother told me, but I forgot.”

“Development of the arts for children.”

He narrowed his eyes at the painting she’d just bid on. “Good cause. Definitely needs development,” he said and tossed back the champagne in two gulps.

Lori frowned. “That’s not very nice. A child painted it. You shouldn’t expect perfection. Unless you’re a snob,” she added.

Chagrin crossed his face. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have come tonight. I’ve been sent to do something I don’t want to do. It’s put me in a bad mood.” He glanced at the painting again. “You like it?” he asked doubtfully.

“I like the colors. They’re bright and cheerful.”

“Where the devil would you hang it?”

Lori couldn’t help smiling at the question. “My decorator would hang it in the closet,” she admitted. “I would put it somewhere prominent. The foyer,” she fantasized.

Mr. England smiled at her, his eyes glinting. “Ah, you’re a rebel underneath it all. Kindred spirit. So am I.” He dipped his hand. “Geoffrey Taylor. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

What lovely manners, she thought and shook his hand. “My pleasure. I’m Lori Jean-”

“Lori Jean!” a feminine voice shrieked, interrupting her. Looking over her shoulder, Lori saw a blur of her friend Chloe, dressed in a garish combination of chartreuse and orange, just before Chloe enveloped her in a huge embrace. “I’m so glad you came. What do you think? Is it fabulous? Do you think I’ll raise any money?”

Lori smiled at Chloe’s enthusiasm. Chloe was one of the few people with whom Lori felt totally comfortable. She wore her motives and her heart on her sleeve and didn’t fit in with the die-hard society types. Everyone except Lori had been surprised when a leading heart surgeon had swept her off her feet.

“You’ve done a beautiful job, and I know you’re going to raise money, because I already see three pictures I’m bidding on.”

“Oh, perfect! Let me get you some more champagne so you’ll pay exorbitant prices and drive the demand through the roof.”

Lori laughed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Geoffrey watching her curiously. “Oh, excuse me. I should have introduced you. Chloe Braunstein is the hostess of this lovely party. This is Geoffrey-I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your last name.”

“Taylor, Geoffrey Taylor. I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Braunstein. My stepmother, Charlene, asked me to attend on her behalf.”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “You’re the duke! Or the duke’s son,” she said, waving her hand. “I’m not sure how all that works. Love the accent. My stepmother is friends with Charlene. When she told us you would attend, we were all excited. Please have some more champagne. Bid astronomical amounts on a drawing or two.” She waved her hand toward a waiter. “More champagne here. Do you mind if I steal him away for a few minutes?” she asked Lori. “Alison Crandall will have a cow when she learns I have a duke at my event. She’s such a snob.” She turned back to Geoffrey. “You don’t mind if I briefly exploit your title, do you?”

He looked momentarily speechless, then shot Lori an uncertain look.

“You did say you were a rebel at heart,” Lori reminded him.

“So I did.”

“And it’s for a good cause,” Chloe said.

He gave a short nod. “In that case, I’m at your service.”

Lori snickered as Chloe ushered Geoffrey away. Poor thing, she thought. He would become the prize steer of the evening. Taking another sip of her champagne, she meandered around the room, enjoying the children’s art. She placed bids on three pieces that grabbed her and was writing a bid for another when a large male hand closed over hers.

Lori’s heart stopped. Oh, no, not him. She cringed, closing her eyes, wishing she were anywhere but here. Wishing Jackson hadn’t found her.

“I thought we agreed you were going to rein in your spending until you take care of your inheritance.”

Lori took a deep breath, inhaling his masculine scent, and wiggled her fingers as a broad hint for him to let go of her. “My spending is relatively reined,” she said. “I haven’t bid on every piece of art I’ve seen.”

“Four,” he said. “And you offered six figures for one of them. You should change your bid.”

Horrified, Lori turned, noting that he wore yet another dark jacket that didn’t fit him properly. “Absolutely not. That would be like welshing. I couldn’t do that to Chloe. Besides, it’s for a good cause.”

“Welshing?” he echoed, lifting that dark fussy eyebrow at her again. “What about your agreement to meet with me tonight to review your candidates? What do you call your failure to show up for that?”

Lori barely resisted the urge to squirm beneath his penetrating gaze. “I forgot about a previous engagement,” she said, trying to effect an air of importance and suspecting she wasn’t succeeding.

“Spending money you don’t have yet,” he said.

Her discomfort rising a mile a minute, she lowered her voice and stepped closer. “People are starting to stare. Could we conduct this conversation somewhere else?”

He ground his teeth. “Fine,” he said and grabbed her arm. “I’ll find a place.”

Lori raced to keep up with his long stride as he led her out of the main room and down a hallway. He opened a door and pulled her inside a utility closet. Flicking on a switch, he closed the door. “Is this private enough for you?”

Lori’s heart hammered in her chest. She stepped backward and her foot ran into a bucket. Jackson immediately put his hands on her shoulders and steadied her. She took another deep breath and felt oddly dizzy. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she said.

“Me, neither,” he muttered. “I didn’t think I would have to be chasing you down in some nightclub and tying your hands to keep you from writing checks for money you don’t have.”

“You weren’t very nice about it.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “How do you think I felt when your housekeeper told me you’d gone to a charity event instead of meeting with me? I’ve been waiting for days for your sisters to leave. If you’re really going to carry out your insane plan, then we need to get moving. At the rate you’re spending, you’re going to end up in a tent by the end of summer. And you don’t strike me as the type that loves camping.”