Harrison considered this. It was possible that she’d judged the guy by his social standing. On the other hand, maybe she’d been in love with Linc. Either way, Harrison wasn’t going to know for sure until he had a chance to get to know her.
“Why are you so interested in her?” Bennett asked, interrupting Harrison’s train of thought.
“I don’t know.”
He couldn’t explain to his uncle that London’s preoccupation with Tristan intrigued and worried him. For the last couple of years Harrison had increasing concerns about his brother’s systematically deteriorating marriage to Zoe. Still, he’d ignored the rumors of Tristan’s affairs even as Harrison recognized his brother had a dark side and a ruthless streak.
The fact that Zoe had vanished off his radar since she’d first separated from Tristan nagged at Harrison. In the beginning he hadn’t wanted to get involved in what had looked to become a nasty divorce. Lately he was wishing he’d been a better brother-in-law.
“Do you know what London does?” Harrison asked, returning his thoughts to the beautiful blonde.
Bennett sighed. “She owns an event planning service.”
“Did she plan this event?” An idea began to form in Harrison’s mind.
“No. Most of the work was done by Zoe before...” Not even Bennett was comfortable talking about his former niece-in-law.
“I think I’m going to introduce myself to London McCaffrey,” Harrison said.
“Just don’t be too surprised when she’s not interested in you.”
“I have a halfway-decent pedigree,” Harrison said with a wink.
“Halfway decent isn’t going to be enough for her.”
“You’re so cynical.” Harrison softened his statement with a half smile. “And I’m more than enough for her to handle.”
His uncle began to laugh. “No doubt you’re right. Just don’t be surprised when she turns you down flat.”
* * *
London McCaffrey stood beside her best friend, Maribelle Gates, her attention fixed on the tall, imposing man she’d promised to take down in the next few months. Zoe Crosby’s ex-husband was handsome enough, but his chilly gaze and the sardonic twist to his lips made London shiver. From the research London had done on him these last couple of weeks, she knew he’d ruthlessly gone after his wife, leaving her with nothing to show for her eight-year marriage.
In addition to cheating on Zoe through most of their marriage, Tristan Crosby had manufactured evidence that she was the one who’d been unfaithful and violated their prenuptial agreement. Zoe had been forced to spend tens of thousands of dollars disproving this, which had eaten into her divorce settlement. A settlement based on financial information about her husband’s wealth that indicated he was heavily mortgaged and deeply in debt.
Zoe’s lawyer suspected that Tristan had created offshore shell companies that allowed him to hide money and avoid paying taxes. It wasn’t unusual or illegal, but it was a hard paper trail to find.
“Heavens, that man cleans up well,” Maribelle remarked, her voice breathy and impressed. “And he’s been staring this way practically since he arrived.” She nudged London. “Wouldn’t it be great if he’s interested in you?”
With an exasperated sigh, London turned to her friend and was about to reiterate that the last thing on her mind was romance when she recognized the man in question. Harrison Crosby, Tristan’s younger brother.
A racing-circuit fan favorite thanks to his long, lean body and handsome face, Harrison was, to her mind, little more than a glorified frat boy. Zoe had explained that her ex-brother-in-law liked fast cars, pretty women and the sorts of activities that red-blooded American males went for in the South.
“He’s not my type,” London told her best friend, returning her focus to her target.
“Sweetie, I love you,” Maribelle began, settling further into her native South Carolina drawl, “but you have to stop being so picky.”
Resentment rose in London but she studiously avoided showing it. Since the first time her mother had slapped her face for making a fuss during her sixth birthday party, London had decided if she was going to survive in the McCaffrey household, she’d better learn to conceal her emotions. It wasn’t always easy, but now, at twenty-eight, she was nearly impossible to read.
“I’m not being picky. I’m simply being realistic.” And since he wasn’t the Crosby brother she was targeting, he wasn’t worth her time.
“That’s your problem,” Maribelle complained. “You’re always realistic. Why don’t you let loose and have some fun?”
Out of kindness or sympathy for her longtime friend, Maribelle didn’t mention London’s latest failure to climb the Charleston social ladder. She’d heard more than enough on that score from her mother. When London had begun to date someone from one of Charleston’s oldest families, her mother had perceived this as the social win she’d been looking for since the New York socialite had married restaurant CEO Boyd McCaffrey and moved to Connecticut, leaving her beloved New York City behind. And then, when London’s father had been accepted for a better position and moved his family to Charleston, Edie Fremont-McCaffrey’s situation grew so much worse.
When she’d first arrived, Edie had assumed that her New York connections, wealth and style would guarantee Charleston’s finest would throw open their doors for her. Instead she’d discovered that family and ancestral connections mattered more here than something as vulgar as money.
“It’s not that I don’t want to have fun,” London began. “I just don’t know that I want to have Harrison Crosby’s sort of fun.”