The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

What the—

She opened her mouth to confront the stylist whose scissors were whizzing through her hair, but Helene spoke first.

“Well whatever help you gave, he sure seems taken with you.”

“Hudson?” Not likely.

“Not Hudson,” Helene said with a shake of her perfectly coiffed head. “Tyler.”

“Of course.” Because you were just a project for Hudson. None of the past few weeks meant anything.

“He couldn’t take his eyes off you at the cocktail party,” Helene went on. “He’s quite the catch, that one.”

“Yes. He is.” One her fifteen-year-old self had imprinted on with all the devotion of an obsessed teenager. And it had stuck with her for all these years until she realized it wasn’t Tyler she’d been in love with, but her idea of him. Reality sucked that way.

“And after Charles gets done with your hair, Tyler won’t be able to see any other woman at the fundraiser.”

“That’s the plan.” Or at least it had been. Her shoulders sank. As it stood now, she didn’t know what in the hell she was doing or why she was even still going.

Sure you do. You know Hudson will be there, and you just need to see him one last time when you aren’t in your underwear and making a failed play for him. Pride. She needed to see him one last time to salvage her pride, that was all.

“It’s a brilliant one,” the other woman said before taking another sip of her tea. “Who’d have ever thought that Hudson would have a secret talent as a matchmaker?”

“He’s got a lot of talents.” Ugh. Stop defending him.

“Yes, he does.” Helene cocked her head to the side and gave her

an assessing look that reminded Felicia of Hudson’s expression when he was sketching her. “I just wish he’d be a little more open about them, but that’s neither here nor there because now it’s time for you to make Tyler realize all he’s been missing. Plus, it’ll practically be a double date. Hudson is bringing Everly.”

The mysterious Everly. She was probably tall and smart and funny and beautiful and perfect for Hudson in every way. Felicia wanted to throw up.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You’ll adore her,” Helene said, a knowing smile curling her lips. “Everyone does.”

Felicia just bet they did. And if she was going to have to meet the perfect Everly after making a complete fool of herself with Hudson, well, she was going to do it looking her best and have a fabulous time with Tyler while she did. If it was the hardest thing she ever did, she’d make sure Hudson never realized that what had been between them had meant something to her.

Chapter Eighteen

In the end, Helene’s hair stylist had taken four inches off her hair so that it fell in that strange spot halfway between her chin and her shoulders, but Felicia couldn’t deny that it looked good. She’d been wearing her hair the same way for most of her life, so the cut was a huge shock every time she walked by a mirror. Even now, after staring at it for way too long as she put on mascara—whoever invented that should be beaten with a brush covered in gobs of clumpy goo—it was like seeing a new person. The kind who wasn’t going to think of Hudson every third minute. Or wonder if he’d even noticed she’d charged both dresses to his account at Dylan’s in a moment of pique. Or try, and fail, to muster up any kind of excitement for finally scratching off the last item on her to-do-before-thirty list a solid week and a half before her birthday.

If nothing else, that part of this whole disaster should have delighted her list-loving, spreadsheet-making, nerdy self.

“I’m totally thrilled,” she said to Honeypot, who just sat on the windowsill glaring at her while its tail swished angrily.

The cat was so annoyed it didn’t even bother to caterwaul a warning before the doorbell rang. Yeah. She knew the feeling. She grabbed the purse that matched the blue sequined dress on her way to the door. When she opened it, Tyler stood on the other side in a tuxedo that made him look like a shoe-in to be the next James Bond. It was a look that did damage to women’s panties across the world—just not hers, not anymore. She scooted outside and closed the door behind her before Honeypot got any ideas.

“Wow,” he said, giving her a slow up and down. “You look great.”

“Thank you. You, too.” And he did. He looked exactly as handsome as he always did, and it did absolutely nothing for her girly bits. It was as if they’d gone on strike.

It didn’t make any sense, but there it was. Logic had nothing on lust. She wouldn’t use the other L-word. That was just pouring sulfuric acid into an open wound.

She followed Tyler up the steps and into the town car waiting at the curb. Then, she spent most of the ride thinking about how pissed her fifteen-year-old self would be to know that actually going out on a date with Tyler wasn’t nearly as fun as spending years thinking about what it would be like to go out on a date with Tyler. Wasn’t that just a real slap across the mouth? She must have uh-huhed out loud at all the right spots while totally not obsessing over Hudson during the drive, because the next thing she knew, the chauffeur was opening the passenger door, and then they were walking up stone steps leading to the Dixon Library and its massive first floor lobby, transformed every year into a ballroom for the fundraiser.

Tyler rested his hand on the small of her back. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“This isn’t my usual crowd.” Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.