EXCERPT FROM LONDON DREAMING
Lucy froze in her black-heeled tracks. A man sat in Ginny’s London charity office. She glanced at her watch. Half-two. Exactly on time.
A giggle distracted her. Two employees sauntered past Ginny’s office ogling the good-looking male with thick, wavy black hair and an angular jaw. Something about the man drew Lucy’s eye as well. Perhaps it was the way he sprawled in the chair, as if he owned it. Or, perhaps it was the dark jeans and striped, open-collar dress shirt that still managed to look as pulled together as if he were wearing a three-piece suit and tie.
As Lucy lifted her hand to knock on Ginny’s office door, Mr. Eye Candy leaned against the back of his chair and laughed at something Ginny said, sparking Lucy’s body to attention.
Ginny heard her knock and motioned her in. Lucy pulled herself back into work mode and entered the rose potpourri-scented office. This was the most important project she handled every year, and pleasing Ginny was job number one. It wouldn’t do to get distracted. “Good afternoon,” she said as she walked up to Ginny’s white laminate desk. “Pleasure to see you again.”
After exchanging kisses with Ginny, Lucy turned to the stranger and introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Lucy Ruleford. I manage Charitable Giving for Ruleford’s Bank.”
The man turned his attention to her, and her insides melted like chocolate over a double boiler.
But he didn’t smile. He acknowledged her only with a deep stare. His eyes appeared unfriendly and closed off to the world. And just as she knew when a steak was perfectly medium rare, she knew he disliked her. Ginny continued to smile at both of them, totally unaware of the undercurrent.
Lucy schooled her features. Years of experience had taught her to feign breeziness when inside she was a mess of complicated hurt and rejection. She hated it when other people hated her, so she pasted her face with a bright smile and pretended indifference.
He straightened and held out his hand. “Matthew Brookes.” Even his voice sounded deep and manly. “Old Street Bank,” he said, with a tilt to his eyebrow.
For a moment, the eyebrow distracted her—her brother did the exact same thing—so it took a moment to register what he’d just said. But when it did register, she yanked her hand back a little too quickly to not be considered rude.
Matthew Brookes was the man who was single-handedly trying to steal her family’s business. Now her intuition about his dislike made sense. This man was the enemy.
What was he doing here?
Lucy whipped her gaze toward Ginny, who continued smiling at both of them. Lucy’s stomach rolled over as her brain kicked in.
Matthew Brookes wanted the Tubby’s business. Located on practically every street corner in Great Britain, analysts had estimated that more Britons visited Tubby’s Subs every day than Starbuck’s and McDonalds combined.
She clutched the strap of her bag as if she held the hand of a friend. Her father—what would this do to her father? His health was already suffering from too much stress, and there was no telling what this indirect assault on their largest customer would do to his well-being.
For five years—five years!—Lucy had ‘volunteered’ to run Holworth House’s charity auction for Ginny, because, as her father, the head of Ruleford’s bank liked to say, pleasing Ginny Tubworth was as important as pleasing her husband Harry Tubworth, CEO of Tubby’s Subs and their bank’s largest client.
It appeared Matthew Brookes had discovered the same thing.
Lucy clenched her fists together. There was absolutely no way she was letting this man make an inroad into the Tubby’s business.
Lucy forced a casual attitude she didn’t remotely feel. “Do you need me to come back later to discuss the Gala?” Her voice crackled, her mouth as dry as an overcooked scone.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Ginny said and motioned them both to sit down.
There was only one chair in front of Ginny’s desk, and Matthew had already commandeered it. An omen?
“Let me get you a chair,” Matthew said. He picked up one of the ornate chairs from the corner as if it weighed next to nothing and tucked it in front of Ginny’s desk.
“Such a gentleman,” Ginny said.
Lucy suppressed a grimace and sat down. His arms and limbs stretched over the edge of the pink-cushioned armchair. Because the chairs were placed so close together, Matthew’s elbow intruded on the arm of her chair and her personal space. The man couldn’t even sit without trying to steal something from a Ruleford, even if it was only space.
Lucy searched for a pen in her handbag, surreptitiously moving her chair out of his elbow and leg zone. When she sat back up, she risked a glance at Matthew and saw him stifle a grin, as if he knew he’d gotten to her.
If she were her brother’s dog, Cupcake, her hackles would have just gone up. Instead, she turned to Ginny with a forced smile, while inside she prepared to tuck her tail between her legs and return to the bank in failure.
“First of all, let me just say Holworth House is thrilled with the results of last year’s gala,” Ginny said. Lucy waited for the ‘but’…. “Last year, we raised two-hundred-fifty thousand pounds for Holworth House,” Ginny continued. “With the economy the way it is, so many more families need our support with shelter and finding work. So this year, we want to double that.” She paused for effect. “Five-hundred thousand pounds.” She emphasized every word by pointing in the air, causing her gold bangles to jingle like the bells of an old-fashioned cash register.
Lucy straightened up. A half-million pounds was unheard of from a single event for a small, London-based charity. Next to her, Matthew Brookes gave a soft whistle of appreciation.
“And the two of you will help me do it,” Ginny said.
“What?” Lucy said, her voice uncomfortably high. Ginny wanted her to work with him? Of all the things she’d imagined—Ginny firing her being the most prevalent—she’d never imagined this. A quick glance at rotten Eye Candy and she realized this wasn’t news to him. Her index finger found the almost healed cuticle on her thumb and began to shred it. She’d never heard anything more ridiculous. “The two of us?”
“Yes,” Ginny said with a huge smile. “When Matt first approached me about helping out, I realized he would exploit an untapped source of donors. Lucy, you’ve done an amazing job bringing in the old money, and all of our success to date has been through your efforts.”
Under her jacket, it was hot enough to bake a potato. “I must disagree with you, Ginny,” Lucy said. “Most of the donors come from industry, not old money.”
Ginny tilted her head. “Perhaps old money isn’t the right term.” She pursed her lips for a second. “Old industry. Perhaps that’s a better term.” She turned to Matt. “See, Matt can bring in new donors—CEO’s from internet startups, young entrepreneurs, technology companies.” She turned back to Lucy. “New money.”
“Why don’t you do a separate fundraiser with Old Street Bank?” Lucy tried to swallow, but there was nothing resembling liquid anywhere in her mouth, making her voice sound quiet and timid. “You must admit it’s highly unusual to have two competitors working together on anything.”
“I considered that,” Ginny said. “But we’re a lean organization. It takes too many of our resources as it is to run one auction. That’s why we asked for your help in the first place.” Ginny smoothed her long, red hair over her shoulder. “When Matt suggested he could raise more money if he ran the auction, I knew I couldn’t lose your help, Lucy.”
So he had tried to get her kicked off the chairmanship. Well, at least she wasn’t fired. Lucy turned to glare at Matthew, but he simply gazed at Ginny with a polite expression on his face.
“That’s when I had my vision!” Ginny motioned with one hand toward Lucy. “Lucy brings in old money. Two-hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds.” She motioned with her other hand toward Matthew. “Matt brings in new money. Two-hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds. Together?” Whap! She slapped her hands together. “Five-hundred thousand pounds.”
Lucy tried not to wince at the vision of her and Matthew slammed together between Ginny’s hands.
Clearly, Ginny had already made up her mind. She wanted five-hundred thousand pounds, and Matthew Brookes was going to give it to her. He was already in her office, and clearly on board with the situation. Matthew Brookes was on the committee. If Lucy decided she didn’t want to work with him for any reason whatsoever, she would forever be branded in Ginny’s mind as the one who lost Holbrook House an additional two-hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds. Not exactly the PR she wanted to engender for Ruleford’s.
And, if Lucy told Ginny she didn’t want to work with Matthew, Lucy might be the one to be kicked off the committee. Absolutely not! She had to chair the committee so she could prove herself indispensable to Ginny.
Lucy forced a smile. “In that case, I’ll be happy to have Matthew on my committee.”
“Call me Matt.” He smiled. “Since we’ll be working together as co-chairs.”
Lucy winced as she practically tore off her entire cuticle.
“Yes, I must not have made that clear,” Ginny said. “This year, I’d like you both to co-chair the event.” She giggled as though a schoolgirl, not the fifty-something woman she was. Lucy’s stomach sank. “I can’t play favorites between my top two fundraisers. And of course, Matt assures me he has no problem working with you.”
Lucy swallowed. “I have no problem.” Her thumb was bleeding. She held her finger over the injury, trying to hide it. “No problem at all.”
Working hand-in-hand with their enemy? Her father would kill her.
If he didn’t have a heart-attack first.
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A giggle distracted her. Two employees sauntered past Ginny’s office ogling the good-looking male with thick, wavy black hair and an angular jaw. Something about the man drew Lucy’s eye as well. Perhaps it was the way he sprawled in the chair, as if he owned it. Or, perhaps it was the dark jeans and striped, open-collar dress shirt that still managed to look as pulled together as if he were wearing a three-piece suit and tie.
As Lucy lifted her hand to knock on Ginny’s office door, Mr. Eye Candy leaned against the back of his chair and laughed at something Ginny said, sparking Lucy’s body to attention.
Ginny heard her knock and motioned her in. Lucy pulled herself back into work mode and entered the rose potpourri-scented office. This was the most important project she handled every year, and pleasing Ginny was job number one. It wouldn’t do to get distracted. “Good afternoon,” she said as she walked up to Ginny’s white laminate desk. “Pleasure to see you again.”
After exchanging kisses with Ginny, Lucy turned to the stranger and introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Lucy Ruleford. I manage Charitable Giving for Ruleford’s Bank.”
The man turned his attention to her, and her insides melted like chocolate over a double boiler.
But he didn’t smile. He acknowledged her only with a deep stare. His eyes appeared unfriendly and closed off to the world. And just as she knew when a steak was perfectly medium rare, she knew he disliked her. Ginny continued to smile at both of them, totally unaware of the undercurrent.
Lucy schooled her features. Years of experience had taught her to feign breeziness when inside she was a mess of complicated hurt and rejection. She hated it when other people hated her, so she pasted her face with a bright smile and pretended indifference.
He straightened and held out his hand. “Matthew Brookes.” Even his voice sounded deep and manly. “Old Street Bank,” he said, with a tilt to his eyebrow.
For a moment, the eyebrow distracted her—her brother did the exact same thing—so it took a moment to register what he’d just said. But when it did register, she yanked her hand back a little too quickly to not be considered rude.
Matthew Brookes was the man who was single-handedly trying to steal her family’s business. Now her intuition about his dislike made sense. This man was the enemy.
What was he doing here?
Lucy whipped her gaze toward Ginny, who continued smiling at both of them. Lucy’s stomach rolled over as her brain kicked in.
Matthew Brookes wanted the Tubby’s business. Located on practically every street corner in Great Britain, analysts had estimated that more Britons visited Tubby’s Subs every day than Starbuck’s and McDonalds combined.
She clutched the strap of her bag as if she held the hand of a friend. Her father—what would this do to her father? His health was already suffering from too much stress, and there was no telling what this indirect assault on their largest customer would do to his well-being.
For five years—five years!—Lucy had ‘volunteered’ to run Holworth House’s charity auction for Ginny, because, as her father, the head of Ruleford’s bank liked to say, pleasing Ginny Tubworth was as important as pleasing her husband Harry Tubworth, CEO of Tubby’s Subs and their bank’s largest client.
It appeared Matthew Brookes had discovered the same thing.
Lucy clenched her fists together. There was absolutely no way she was letting this man make an inroad into the Tubby’s business.
Lucy forced a casual attitude she didn’t remotely feel. “Do you need me to come back later to discuss the Gala?” Her voice crackled, her mouth as dry as an overcooked scone.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Ginny said and motioned them both to sit down.
There was only one chair in front of Ginny’s desk, and Matthew had already commandeered it. An omen?
“Let me get you a chair,” Matthew said. He picked up one of the ornate chairs from the corner as if it weighed next to nothing and tucked it in front of Ginny’s desk.
“Such a gentleman,” Ginny said.
Lucy suppressed a grimace and sat down. His arms and limbs stretched over the edge of the pink-cushioned armchair. Because the chairs were placed so close together, Matthew’s elbow intruded on the arm of her chair and her personal space. The man couldn’t even sit without trying to steal something from a Ruleford, even if it was only space.
Lucy searched for a pen in her handbag, surreptitiously moving her chair out of his elbow and leg zone. When she sat back up, she risked a glance at Matthew and saw him stifle a grin, as if he knew he’d gotten to her.
If she were her brother’s dog, Cupcake, her hackles would have just gone up. Instead, she turned to Ginny with a forced smile, while inside she prepared to tuck her tail between her legs and return to the bank in failure.
“First of all, let me just say Holworth House is thrilled with the results of last year’s gala,” Ginny said. Lucy waited for the ‘but’…. “Last year, we raised two-hundred-fifty thousand pounds for Holworth House,” Ginny continued. “With the economy the way it is, so many more families need our support with shelter and finding work. So this year, we want to double that.” She paused for effect. “Five-hundred thousand pounds.” She emphasized every word by pointing in the air, causing her gold bangles to jingle like the bells of an old-fashioned cash register.
Lucy straightened up. A half-million pounds was unheard of from a single event for a small, London-based charity. Next to her, Matthew Brookes gave a soft whistle of appreciation.
“And the two of you will help me do it,” Ginny said.
“What?” Lucy said, her voice uncomfortably high. Ginny wanted her to work with him? Of all the things she’d imagined—Ginny firing her being the most prevalent—she’d never imagined this. A quick glance at rotten Eye Candy and she realized this wasn’t news to him. Her index finger found the almost healed cuticle on her thumb and began to shred it. She’d never heard anything more ridiculous. “The two of us?”
“Yes,” Ginny said with a huge smile. “When Matt first approached me about helping out, I realized he would exploit an untapped source of donors. Lucy, you’ve done an amazing job bringing in the old money, and all of our success to date has been through your efforts.”
Under her jacket, it was hot enough to bake a potato. “I must disagree with you, Ginny,” Lucy said. “Most of the donors come from industry, not old money.”
Ginny tilted her head. “Perhaps old money isn’t the right term.” She pursed her lips for a second. “Old industry. Perhaps that’s a better term.” She turned to Matt. “See, Matt can bring in new donors—CEO’s from internet startups, young entrepreneurs, technology companies.” She turned back to Lucy. “New money.”
“Why don’t you do a separate fundraiser with Old Street Bank?” Lucy tried to swallow, but there was nothing resembling liquid anywhere in her mouth, making her voice sound quiet and timid. “You must admit it’s highly unusual to have two competitors working together on anything.”
“I considered that,” Ginny said. “But we’re a lean organization. It takes too many of our resources as it is to run one auction. That’s why we asked for your help in the first place.” Ginny smoothed her long, red hair over her shoulder. “When Matt suggested he could raise more money if he ran the auction, I knew I couldn’t lose your help, Lucy.”
So he had tried to get her kicked off the chairmanship. Well, at least she wasn’t fired. Lucy turned to glare at Matthew, but he simply gazed at Ginny with a polite expression on his face.
“That’s when I had my vision!” Ginny motioned with one hand toward Lucy. “Lucy brings in old money. Two-hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds.” She motioned with her other hand toward Matthew. “Matt brings in new money. Two-hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds. Together?” Whap! She slapped her hands together. “Five-hundred thousand pounds.”
Lucy tried not to wince at the vision of her and Matthew slammed together between Ginny’s hands.
Clearly, Ginny had already made up her mind. She wanted five-hundred thousand pounds, and Matthew Brookes was going to give it to her. He was already in her office, and clearly on board with the situation. Matthew Brookes was on the committee. If Lucy decided she didn’t want to work with him for any reason whatsoever, she would forever be branded in Ginny’s mind as the one who lost Holbrook House an additional two-hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds. Not exactly the PR she wanted to engender for Ruleford’s.
And, if Lucy told Ginny she didn’t want to work with Matthew, Lucy might be the one to be kicked off the committee. Absolutely not! She had to chair the committee so she could prove herself indispensable to Ginny.
Lucy forced a smile. “In that case, I’ll be happy to have Matthew on my committee.”
“Call me Matt.” He smiled. “Since we’ll be working together as co-chairs.”
Lucy winced as she practically tore off her entire cuticle.
“Yes, I must not have made that clear,” Ginny said. “This year, I’d like you both to co-chair the event.” She giggled as though a schoolgirl, not the fifty-something woman she was. Lucy’s stomach sank. “I can’t play favorites between my top two fundraisers. And of course, Matt assures me he has no problem working with you.”
Lucy swallowed. “I have no problem.” Her thumb was bleeding. She held her finger over the injury, trying to hide it. “No problem at all.”
Working hand-in-hand with their enemy? Her father would kill her.
If he didn’t have a heart-attack first.
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