“Good idea.” Arthur agreed right away. “You ladies do your thing. We’ll do ours. Then afterward, Lane can take a few family shots, and we’ll call it an evening. I’ve still got a dozen phone calls to return, and a late dinner meeting to attend.”
“A dinner meeting?” Elyse looked startled. “When did that happen? I thought you were eating with us.”
“I’d planned to. But your father called a couple of hours ago. He set up this meeting, and not easily. He had to accommodate the schedules of four busy CEOs. This was the one night they could all free up. So tonight it is.”
“CEOs,” Lane repeated thoughtfully. “Of banks?”
A measured look. “Banks and corporations. Why?”
“Because I don’t envy you.” The news correspondent in Lane was blunt. “The financial industry has been key to your political success. Now you have to persuade them to swallow a bill that’s going to cost them big bucks. This is bound to be a tough meeting.”
“Probably.” Rather than being put off, Arthur gave an accepting shrug. “But I believe strongly in my legislation. I believe it’ll benefit everyone in the long run. It’s my job to get that point across.”
“I wish you luck.”
“I also have Daniel Kellerman in my corner. I won’t pretend to minimize what a strong ally he is.”
“In other words, he’ll have laid the groundwork.”
“Exactly. So, all in all, I expect the dinner to be a success.”
“Speaking of Grandpa, send him my love.” Jill edged a quick glance at her mother, who was still clearly upset about her husband’s unexpected vanishing act. “This is Mom’s, Morgan’s, and my chance to try that new Thai restaurant. We’ll order takeout and finish up whatever party planning we don’t get to now.”
“This holiday party sounds like it’s going to be quite an event,” Lane commented.
“It will be.” Jill gave him a broad grin. “Why don’t you come? It’s the nineteenth, at seven p.m., at Mom’s gym. It just so happens I have a few extra invitations in my purse.” She rummaged through her Coach bag and produced a tastefully calligraphied invitation. “Here you go.” She handed it to him. “It’ll be good for you. You can see what you’re missing by not registering with Winshore.”
Lane glanced down at the gold lettering. Normally, he hated these kind of parties. They were frivolous and shallow, filled with phony people and bullshit conversation.
He was still on the fence when he happened to glance up and see Morgan watching him from the opposite end of the sofa. Gone was the vulnerability she’d exuded a few minutes ago. Now her arms were folded across her breasts, and there was a knowing gleam in her eye.
“You were about to refuse?” she supplied helpfully.
“Was I?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you were about to convince me otherwise?”
Her lips twitched. “Absolutely. Why not go for it? It’s a weekday evening, too late for cocktails and a quickie, too early for nightcaps and bed. The food will be incredible, the eggnog homemade, and if the people are as vapid as you’re anticipating, you can always use the time to do a total body workout. It is, after all, a gym—with the finest fitness equipment in all of Manhattan.”
Lane couldn’t help but chuckle. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“No bargain. The only one who stands to win, or lose, is you.”
Okay, that did it. This was a different kind of adrenaline rush—one he was no sooner walking away from than he did any other.
“You’re right,” he conceded, tucking the invitation into his pants pocket. She’d left the ball in his court. He was playing it. “It sounds great. Thank you for the invite. I’ll be there.”
EIGHT
Karly Fontaine was truly enjoying herself. The food at La Grenouille was superb, the man across the table from her was a good-looking, su
ccessful attorney, and the conversation was stimulating.
Once again, Morgan had chosen well. That young woman really knew her stuff. Her matchmaking instincts were uncanny.
“More wine?” Charlie Denton was asking.