My Christmas Darling by Vivien Mayfair

Author:Vivien Mayfair [Mayfair, Vivien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-73322-610-3
Publisher: Vivien Mayfair

Chapter 9

“If you catch yourself in a pickle, jump into a swirly jar of whipped cream instead.”

With Love, Vivien

* * *

Lucy took one look at the man walking toward her and wished she’d been born a turtle dove. She spun around and leaned into the concierge booth. “Are there any private tables?”

“You’ve already been checked in,” the girl replied.

“Right, but is it a private table? Please say yes.”

“We don’t have private tables.”

“Please, you have to help me.”

“You can always leave, ma’am.”

The last thing Lucy needed was for somebody to recognize Heather. The fact that William Harcourt looked good enough to serve with a chocolate soufflé didn’t help her anxiety. Her hands trembled like crazy.

“Ms. Carpenter?”

She felt his breath on her neck. Forcing a smile, she twisted around. “Oh, you’re here.”

“Weren’t you just looking at me? I waved.”

“I’m waiting for Bibi.”

He smoothed down a sharp royal-blue dress shirt that outlined his abs, buttoning his suit blazer that accentuated a trim waist indicating he was one of those Keto Diet types. “So, this is the moment.”

“I guess so.”

“Have you heard from her?”

“She said she’ll be here. I think it’s best you don’t pressure her.”

“Why would I pressure her?”

“Maybe don’t ask her too many questions. Let her take the lead.”

He nodded. “Good plan, let’s not scare her off.”

They waited off to the side as another group checked in. Each time the door opened and bells rang, William shot an eager glance over her head. Lucy’s intestinal tract churned fast enough to need a bathroom.

“I’m excited!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands. “Thrilled, in fact.”

Lucy shrugged off a crochet wrap with gold trim. “I can see that.”

“This woman is something else.”

“Because she wrote a book?”

“Because we’ve gotten to know each other on a personal level. I’d like to think there’s something there more than just a book contract. I just hope she looks as good as she writes.”

Her hope plummeted.

With Heather’s six-foot-tall frame, blonde locks and legs up to her nose, of course he’d want to be with her. On the other hand, her looks could be a distraction to book talks.

“She told me that she’s a blonde,” said Lucy, recognizing her envy.

His face scrunched at that just a little. “She did sound blonde on the phone.”

Another bell.

And there she was, Heather Crawford, aspiring actress and bleached bombshell in a cleavage-plunging, Valentino Haute Couture, Julia Roberts dress with white piping like Julia wore for her Oscar. Hair extensions added an extra foot to her hair that now cascaded down her neck and covered one breast.

William’s mouth fell open.

Lucy kept focus on her goal to find a way to sign the contract without breaking the law or revealing her hoax. She had no choice over the dinner in the first place, and now had to enact a strategy to survive it.

Heather put on a brilliant smile. “Mr. Harcourt.”

He took her hand. “Please, call me William.”

She blinked flirtatiously through thick-painted eyelashes. “And, you must be Lucy.”

Where was a potted plant to puke in when she needed it? Lucy managed a nod and gave a harsh warning look.

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