Two parents, my sister, and her fiancé didn’t qualify as being alone in my book. “I’m not exactly alone.”
“You have a boyfriend? How wonderful. What a relief to know that love handles don’t deter all men. You’re an inspiration to us all.”
Was Natasha trying to psyche me out exactly as Nina predicted? I recalled Nina’s advice and tried to serve Natasha a little of her own medicine. “I see you’re making Oyster Stuffing. Mars detests oysters and mussels, you know.”
For one long second, I thought I had her. But she came back fast. “Not the way I make it.”
She turned quickly and resumed her pose in front of her counter. I couldn’t help gloating a little bit. Obviously, she didn’t know about Mars’s aversion to oysters.
Simon Greer ambled toward us, a sly grin on his face. A crowd gathered behind him.
Wendy, the amateur contender on my other side, ran her fingers through her short, curly hair, and mock whispered, “He’s so gorgeous. Wish he were the prize.”
Simon wasn’t tall but he cut an imposing figure anyway. Sharply creased khaki trousers and a cashmere hunter-green sweater showed off a well-toned physique. Wavy hair in a controlled tumble only emphasized his boyish charm. No wonder women fawned over him. He had looks and gobs of money. Every step seemed to ooze the confidence of wealth. He prided himself on being a self-made man, though Nina, who kept up with celebrity doings, told me his wealth originated with early cell phone technology deals that had since been made illegal. He parlayed those millions into a national cable network and a magazine publishing empire.
I’d met him in passing at some of the bigger charity events I’d handled but this was the first time I could ever remember seeing Simon without a tuxedo. And today the women drooling over him were a little older and chubbier than the usual line of gold diggers that trailed him.
He kissed Natasha on the cheek and thanked her for participating. She flushed despite her flawless makeup. Clearly used to publicity, he put his arm around Natasha and offered a practiced grin for photographs.
A chestnut-haired man slightly taller than Simon, fit but not brawny, moved with him. At first I thought he might be a friend of Simon’s but he appeared to be scanning the people around Simon. He wore a bored Secret Service agent expression. A bodyguard? If so, he didn’t seem to sense any urgency.
Natasha was still talking to Simon when he broke away and swung easily into my work space.
I held out my hand but he ignored it and leaned in to kiss me. If I hadn’t turned my head fast, he’d have planted one right on my lips.
Up close, tiny laugh crinkles around his eyes made him even more enchanting. Loud enough for everyone to hear, he said, “So good to see you again. Good luck today, Sophie.” And then he lowered his voice. “I have tickets to The Nutcracker at the Kennedy Center for Saturday. My driver, Clyde, will pick you up at seven.”
Did he just ask me out? His bored shadow gave me a curt nod so I assumed he must be Clyde.
Simon winked at me and strode away to welcome Wendy.
She drifted over to me when he moved on. “I can’t believe that just happened. I couldn’t be more excited if he’d asked me for a date. It’s . . . it’s like going out with a movie star, only better.”
“Better?”
“Are you kidding? Do you know what he’s worth? I’d dump my sweet, fat old Marvin any day for Simon.” She paused, waved, and called out, “Hi, honey!”
A portly guy sitting in the front row of spectator chairs waved back.
Maybe she had a point, but the whole thing left a sour taste in my mouth. It wasn’t an invitation, it was . . . a command. As though he assumed I’d love to go with him. Was he so used to women agreeing that he didn’t bother asking?
Wendy watched me with a dreamy expression. “What I wouldn’t give to have Simon Greer interested in me.”
Stupid Simon. He was a judge. What had he done? Didn’t he realize the position he put me in by asking me out? He couldn’t wait a few hours until after they announced the winner?
Natasha rushed over, the color drained from her face. “Did I hear that right?” She reprimanded me like an angry schoolteacher. “I never expected this from you. Sleeping with a judge to win? It can’t be easy for you to continually be an also-ran, but, Sophie, this is practically prostitution. What will your new boyfriend think?” She emitted a small gasping sound like something terrible had occurred to her. “Simon’s your new beau. You’ve rigged the contest!”
FIVE
From Natasha Online :
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Like winning a stuffing contest was so important that I’d sleep with a judge. The winner would get a one-hour television special on one of Simon’s networks, as well as the cover of one of his trendy magazines. That prize could propel the winner to diva stardom, or at least put her on the right road. But I’d never been the type to sleep my way to success.
For one brief moment I considered bowing out, but I didn’t want to give Natasha the satisfaction. I’d have to find Simon and set him straight. Holding my chin high to show I had nothing to be ashamed of, I faced Natasha. “If you’re so sure you’re going to win, then why are you concerned about Simon and me?”
Her lower lip pulled into a bitter line. “It’s not fair to the other contestants.”
She was right about that. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. But I’d set things right before the competition started.
“Sophie! Sophie!” Hannah rushed at us, wearing an uncharacteristically subdued baby-blue turtleneck. Mom and Craig followed close behind and Dad stood back to snap pictures on his fancy digital camera.
“Is it true?” Hannah said. “Simon asked you out?”
News traveled fast in the ballroom. “Where did you hear that?”
“Everyone’s buzzing about it. I can’t believe it. My sister’s going to be rich. Filthy rich!”
Great. The first date I’d had since my divorce could have been with a rich and charming guy and I was going to ruin it all by telling him I couldn’t go.
Mom beamed. “I knew you wouldn’t be wearing flannel pajamas for long. That cute cop from yesterday is here, too. I believe he’s sweet on you.”
Wolf? Here? I’d zeroed in on him because he looked like the kind of guy who liked food, but I didn’t imagine he’d be interested in the stuffing contest.
Mars’s sister-in-law, Vicki, joined us and I could hear her husband, Andrew, talking too loudly nearby. Although Andrew looked a good deal like Mars, he’d never found contentment in any of his business undertakings. He drifted from idea to job to disaster on a regular basis. Thankfully, the svelte, very together Vicki sustained them by being one of Washington’s most-sought-after marriage counselors. She exuded self-confidence in a way I never could.