The Right Wish Page 15

  “Mr. Marshall.” Mrs. Chase shook her head at me. “Everything about this debut is a disaster.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “Define disaster.”

  “Coralee has bottled water, not Pellegrino, in her dressing room.”

  “Easy to fix.”

  “The caterers messed up the place cards. They have Mary Timmons of Black Cat Records seated beside Charles Morris of Zenith Productions.”

  “That’s not a mistake. That was a personal request by Mr. Morris.”

  She huffed. “Well, I have a list of other problems.”

  I’d bet she did.

  “It’s about time you showed up.” Her unpleasant features sharpened. Good for Coralee that she got her looks from her father, not her mother. “You shouldn’t expect me to do your job.”

  “With all due respect . . .” I lifted a brow. “You doing my job would be impossible.”

  • • •

  Camaro

  “Hi,” I said after knocking on the open office door. “I’m Camaro Montepulciano. Bradley Marshall sent me.”

  “Yes, I know.” The handsome black man behind the desk clicked off the cell he’d had pressed to his ear.

  “That was him on the phone.” I narrowed my gaze. “Bradley. Wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Maurice smiled widely, his dark brown eyes twinkling with mirth. “Apparently, he was worried you and I might not be great friends. But we will despite his meddling, won’t we, n’est-ce pas?”

  “Oui, certainement.” I liked him instantly.

  His gaze brightened. “You speak French?”

  “Un petit peu.” I showed him an inch with my first finger and thumb.

  “A little, maybe.” He cocked his head. “But you speak it well.”

  “I had lots of practice. I traveled overseas every spring with my family when I was young.”

  “Italian heritage?” he asked, his head at an angle as if he could hear the very slight accent from my mother that most didn’t pick up on.

  I nodded. “On my maternal side.”

  “Father too?”

  I shook my head. “He’s Irish.”

  “Flawless skin. Amazing bone structure. Arresting eyes.” Maurice tapped the cleft in his chin. “Fascinating combination. You have a beautiful, unique look. Have you ever considered high-fashion modeling?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Never. I don’t think I would be interested.” I only had my fake ID. It had a revealing record on it, and the expired real one had an unfavorable past of another sort, thanks to Chris. Neither would stand up to a thorough background check. “But thank you.”

  “To dress you for a formal occasion will be a labor of love, for me and my staff. But you must agree to at least consider letting me take a couple of test shots when we’re through.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll be very discreet. Just a few photos to pass on to some designer friends. One in particular, I know would love your look. Ernie Caballero.”

  I knew the name. Brazilian. “His gowns are stunning.”

  “They are, and very popular with the A-list in Hollywood, and with anyone else who can afford him. We’ll try a few other designers today, but I have a feeling about one of his on you.” He rounded the desk and threaded his arm with mine. “Allons-y.”

  “Yes.” I nodded. Maurice’s excitement was contagious. “Let’s get started.”

  Chapter 24

  * * *

  Bradley

  “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Marshall.” Mary Timmons waved her hand at the surroundings. “The Teragram Ballroom is a nice venue for a debut. Well situated in Westlake. I’ll have to put it on my list.”

  “Good luck pulling the necessary strings Bradley did if you’re planning to get any of your bands on their calendar this year, my dear,” Charles Morris said to her as if I weren’t even there. His ice-blue eyes were full of challenge and a lot of heat as he pulled the mature, attractive Black Cat CEO closer.

  They made a striking couple, a powerful, elegantly attired one. Charles wore a Tom Ford tux with peaked lapels like I did. But Mary outshone us both with her short brown hair in an elegant updo and wearing a layered white-on-black Valentino gown . . . until a flash of seafoam green at the entrance caught my eye.

  My eyes widened and my heart stopped at the sight, then restarted, beating stronger as Cam’s gaze found and lingered on mine. I could feel the alluring connection of her across the fifty or so yards separating us.

  “Incredible,” Mary said, following the direction of my gaze. “Who is that?”

  “Camaro Moltepulciano.”

  “Jewel’s friend?”

  I forgot the two had met once. I forgot everything, every fucking thing, as I watched Cam thread her way through the crowd toward me. With the sway of her hips, the swish of her loose midnight-black hair against her slender shoulders, she was like a siren’s song to me, words and melody in motion.

  “Hey,” Cam said, stopping in front of me, her apology encompassing the group. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

  “You look stunning,” I said, my voice gruff as I reeled with desire and possessiveness.

  I didn’t recognize the designer of her dress, only that it was meant to be worn by her. The intricate beaded lace bodice clung to her curves, and the full satin skirt rustled musically around her delicate ankles like smooth rocks at the shoreline, tumbling together in a gentle surf. I reached out and gently closed my fingers around the slender circumference of her arm as I drew her to my side, claiming her.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes twinkled in pleasure. “All the credit for my ensemble goes to Maurice. He’s like a fairy godmother with a wand.”

  “Maurice St. Germaine at Nordstrom?” Charles asked.

  Cam nodded, and he chuckled.

  “He would love the analogy, and he would run with a double entendre.”

  “I think whatever gown you wear, you would shine in it.” Mary extended her hand. “I’m Mary Timmons. Black Cat Records.”

  “I remember you.” Cam smiled. “We met the night Rush proposed to Jewel.”

  “Yes, just so.” Mary nodded. “It’s good to see you again. I wasn’t aware that you and Bradley were dating.”

  “We’re—”

  “Just starting out,” I said, interrupting Cam with a squeeze of her arm. She turned her head, giving me a questioning look.

  “I understand wanting to be discreet. Things can get messy when the gossip purveyors get involved,” Mary said. Her expression approving, she returned her gaze to me. “I anticipate I’ll be seeing you soon in Vancouver.”

  “Yes, I’ve spoken to Gale. I have yet to meet with the entire band, but after I do, you’ll be the first person I speak to. Charles second.”

  “As it should be,” Mary said, and she and Charles exchanged a long look. “Now that the proper ranking in the music industry has been established, we’ll leave you two to mingle.” Mary smiled triumphantly, dipping her chin to Cam and then me before moving away with Charles.

  Cam’s black brows drew together. “Why did you tell her we were dating?”

  “It’s easier than a long explanation.” I gave Cam a generality that was far from the truth. With her in that dress, every guy in this room would be making a play for her like Trevor had tried to earlier. “Do you mind all that much?”

  “I guess not.” Her eyes widened as she glanced around the room. “This is a little intimidating. I don’t really know any of these people.”

  “You don’t need to know anybody,” I said, and she look up at me. “But I guarantee that everybody in this room wants to know you. Especially the men. You’re always pretty, but you’re exceptionally breathtaking tonight.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. Her pleasure from my compliment made her eyes sparkle like dreams dipped in magical fairy dust. “Should we, um, mingle?”

  “We should,” I said, but I didn’t move. I just wanted to wax poetic and gaze at her under the lights. They were bright, but t
he glow she cast was much brighter.

  “You don’t want to mingle?” She tilted her head, and I shook mine.

  What I truly wanted right now would likely shock her. Then again, maybe not, given her background.

  But the whole of her wasn’t what she’d done. It was who she was—sweet, beautiful, dazzling, right here and right now, standing poised and ready to help me.

  “But we should mingle. It’s the prudent thing to do.” I placed my hand on the small of her back. “Let me introduce you to some people.”

  Guiding her around the room, I began with those I knew best. The Cavanaughs, who owned a streaming company; the Jones twins, who were both renowned musicians; and eventually Coralee and her mother.

  “Nice to meet you,” Cam said. Making eye contact with mother and daughter, she smiled.

  “I love your gown.” Coralee returned Cam’s smile, but her mother did not. “Whose is it?”

  “Ernie Caballero,” Cam said, replying as if she were accustomed to being asked what designer she wore.

  “He’s expensive.” Mrs. Chase’s beady eyes narrowed. “Did you buy it yourself, or did Bradley purchase it with the money he made off of my daughter?”

  “Mrs. Chase,” I said firmly. “If you persist in complaining about my fee for representing Coralee, a fee that’s customary in this business, I shall have to consider exercising one of my exit clauses.”

  “That would be wonderful. Will you—”

  “No, I will not return my portion of the signing bonus. And I would have to charge you for the expenses incurred for this function.”

  “Now, wait a minute.” Her thin lips flattened.

  Coralee jerked her head to the side, whipping her brown ponytail in agitation. “Mother, I want Mr. Marshall to represent me. I would like a word with you. In private. Excuse us.” The nineteen-year-old lifted her chin and grasped her mother’s arm to lead her away.

  “Wow.” Cam shook her head but didn’t say more. She seemed to understand that saying anything too personal in public where it could be overheard wouldn’t be wise.

  “I think we’ve worked the room enough.” Truthfully, I’d already made several circuits while keeping an eye on the entrance for her. “Would you like to sit down?” I pulled back my sleeve to look at my watch. “Dinner should be served soon.”

  “Sitting sounds awesome.” She glanced down. “These satin pumps are pretty, but they’re pinching my toes.”

  “Then let’s sit.” I offered my arm, and she took it readily.

  We strolled together to my table directly in front of the stage. I held out her chair, then took my seat after she was settled in hers.

  Sitting beside this gorgeous, enchanting woman, I smiled, feeling like a newly crowned king.

  Chapter 25

  * * *

  Camaro

  “I couldn’t eat another bite.” I shook my head as Brad tried to slide more of the chicken cordon bleu from his gold-rimmed plate onto mine.

  “You barely ate anything.” His golden hair, shinier than the rim of the china, slid forward as he swept his gaze over me. “I don’t want you losing any of your amazing curves.”

  “They’re not going anywhere.” My cheeks flushed from the compliment and his perusal. “I ate three tacos right alongside you at lunch.”

  “That was a couple of hours ago.”

  “I haven’t run a marathon since then. I just tried on dresses, and sat in a chair to have my hair and makeup done.” An entire afternoon being primped to be presentable. While all Brad needed to do to be the most handsome man in the room was put on his tux.

  “Sounds like a perfect day.” Mildred Burlington, the wife of the executive on Brad’s left, lifted her flute of champagne. She had warm brown eyes and hair that was pure white. During dinner, Brad had been talking to her husband, a local radio station owner, about business, while she chatted with me about their grandchildren. “Here’s to a day of pampering at the salon.”

  “Yes, absolutely.” I reached for and lifted my glass, clinking it to hers before taking a sip as if a day at the salon was a usual occurrence for me.

  “I need to go backstage to check on Coralee.” Brad held up his cell. The notification alerts were pinging like crazy and had been throughout the meal.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  Although his brow was creased, it didn’t detract from his debonair demeanor. He was more handsome than all the executives at the tables around us.

  “Everything’s fine. She just has a little case of stage fright.”

  He leaned close, so close I could feel his heat, and was inundated with his mind-scrambling scent. A warm shiver rolled through me as he gently traced the line of my jaw with his hand. An innocent enough gesture, but it made my heart race and tightened my nipples. His eyes flared as if he knew how responsive I was to his touch.

  “It probably doesn’t seem little to her,” I said, my throat dry from the heat licking my body.

  Brad had touched me often during the meal. Putting his arm around me while he conversed with others. Brushing his hand across mine before gesturing to waiters to attend me. Holding my hand between courses. We were supposedly dating, and he was acting the part of the solicitous boyfriend. But his care and his caresses were as seductive as if we were real lovers, not pretend.

  “You’re right.” He pushed his chair back from the table. “To her, it probably doesn’t.” Standing, he placed his hands on the back of my chair and feathered his warm lips across my cheek. “Excuse me, my lady. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “All right.” I sighed, touching my tingling skin where his lips had been. My eyes burned with longing as I watched him walk away.

  “He’s very handsome,” Mildred said. “And charming.”

  “Yes, he is.” I turned to her and nodded.

  “He’s usually so serious at these things. He’s never mentioned a girlfriend before. It’s good you could come with him tonight. You make him smile.” She patted my hand. “He makes you smile too. He’s a keeper, dear. Don’t let him get away.”

  He was one to keep, all right. I bobbed my head, wishing I had the power to achieve that miracle.

  • • •

  Bradley

  “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to speak to your daughter.” I stepped inside Coralee’s small dressing room, making eye contact with her mother while holding the door open and gesturing to the hallway.

  “I’m perfectly fine where I am.” In the corner of the tiny space, she stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me.

  “But your daughter isn’t fine, Carol.” I dispensed with formality and nodded to where Coralee sat in front of a mirror, twisting her hands in her lap. “She’s nervous, and you make her more nervous. Isn’t that right, Coralee?”

  Coralee nodded.

  “There you have it. I need to speak with your daughter alone. Tonight is a big night for her. I’m going to have to insist.”

  “Very well.” Carol crossed the room, kissed her daughter on top of her head, and stomped past me on her way out the door.

  I closed it gently but firmly and turned to face the nervous teen. “That was very brave how you stood up to her. Good for you.”

  “She’ll make me pay for it later.” Coralee dropped her chin and began fidgeting with the sequined pattern on her skirt. “But thank you for helping me. I’m sorry I interrupted your dinner.”

  “I was done eating, and anyway, I’m here for you tonight. Whatever you need, you just let me know.”

  “She’s very pretty.” Coralee lifted her gaze but continued to pick at the design on her skirt.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Camaro.”

  “She is.” I studied Coralee, wondering if she was jealous.

  “Poised too. Unlike me.”

  “She’s a few years older than you, and she’s had practice being out on her own.” Just how much, I wasn’t sure, but I suspected a lot since her mother had died, and her father seeme
d to be completely out of the picture. “We need to do something about your mother belittling you. I thought it could wait, but I think the sooner we address the problem, the better.”

  I wanted to demand something be done, but I remembered my sister’s advice today and also thought of Cam. Coralee had a sweet, sensitive spirit like hers.

  “You’re nineteen,” I said gently, “an adult now. You have all the authority. You could start by being more firm with her.”

  Coralee shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “I’ve done that. I think I’m going to have to do more.”

  “I could set the ball in motion legally for you to be freed from her control. Would you like me to do that?”

  Her gaze snapped up to mine, hope filling her eyes. “Yes.”

  “You would like to have full control of your career?”

  “I would,” she said, softly but firmly.

  “All right.” I held up a finger, then typed out a quick text on my phone. “The ball is in motion, but it’ll be up to you to inform her of the change.”

  “She’s not going to like it. I won’t be able to stay at home anymore.” Her eyes widened. “Can you arrange getting me my own place to live?”

  “I could. That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Tonight?” Her lower lip trembled, and I wondered if there was more than just the opposing will of an overbearing mother to worry about.

  “I can get you into a hotel tonight, but how about this? You focus on being you tonight. Telling your mom that you want to be on your own can wait one more day.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay is good. But you’re going to be better than okay tonight. You’re going to be fabulous on that stage. You know you are. In a couple of minutes, your guests will know it. And as soon as your album drops, everyone else in the world will know how fabulous you are too.”

  “You’re right.” Her hazel eyes sparkling, she lifted her chin.