The Playboy's Proposal (Sorensen Family) (2 page)

“It was an after-party. The picture makes it look far worse than it was. Ask John and Ted. They were there. Where’d you get that? TMZ?”

“It doesn’t matter where I got it or how innocent it all was, the point is how you’ve let yourself be represented these past few years as this immoral, partying playboy with no ties to family or community. And now it might be coming to bite you in the butt. These clients are looking for a firm that they believe shares the same vision of community, of family values, of moral integrity as they do, or at the very least, they want to know we understand that vision. Photos like this popping up aren’t helping, nor was the latest gossip that you’re throwing all-night ragers at your place that have the residents of the building wanting you out.”

He froze. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll let you read all about it later, but apparently you’re one complaint away from being tossed out on your butt if you don’t clean up your act.”

Had his neighbor actually had the temerity to go to the press?

He’d thought her fiery before. Now he thought she was a menace.

Becks sat back and studied him. “You know, Henry, I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked all these years to prove yourself, prove your merit to me and the clients, to not stand on your family name to get where you are. You’re good. Very good. Which is why I’d hate to see everything you’ve worked for—that
we’ve
worked for here at Studio 180—reach a plateau because of this public persona you’ve fostered. We need this account, Henry. Fix this. And for crying out loud, when we meet with these clients Friday to convince them we are the best agency to represent them, there had better not be any reports about the playboy heir getting kicked out of his condo for having too many damn parties.”

He could stand there and argue all day that if the clients couldn’t separate Henry’s private life from the award-nominated work he was doing at the agency then they were shortsighted and narrow-minded. But it would be a stupid argument. In advertising, the client’s needs and wants and opinions were all that mattered. If this group had any doubts that Henry and the agency would be able to encompass their vision because of tomorrow’s headlines, then they’d go somewhere else. And he’d be royally screwed.

So instead, he nodded. “I understand.” And he did. There was no point in being mad at Becks. She was just the messenger. “Thanks,” he said and headed back out.

Marion didn’t look up from her desk when he returned. “Mrs. Davenport is holding for you on line one. Should I take another message?”

“No. Just give me a minute.”

He shut the door to his office and went around to his desk, setting his now cold coffee on the corner before taking his seat, his conversation with Becks running through his head.

As blasé as he’d acted earlier about the agency’s nomination for best ad campaign, he was secretly ecstatic over the accomplishment. An accomplishment that he and his team had achieved based on hard work and creative merit. Not because of who he was or who his family was—something that had hung over him since childhood. No, he’d busted his ass through college and for the past nine years to get this recognition.

This award nomination was for a campaign that he, not his predecessor, had fostered, which meant everything to him.

He grabbed the baseball from his desk and rolled it in his hand. The feel of the soft leather under his fingertips, the predictable weight and size in his hand, was familiar and welcome. A souvenir from the last game his dad had taken him to just before he’d passed.

His dad had always told him how important it was not to rely on his family’s laurels and to make every achievement his own, through his own hard work. It would have been easy to rely on the Brighton name—a name belonging to his mother and her family. A name as renowned internationally in the jewelry business as its competitor Tiffany & Co. But witnessing the way his mother placed the business over Henry, his sister, and even his father had made him resentful of it—as well as her. Maybe that was why he’d practically thumbed his nose at her and the family business over the years, uncaring of how he was portrayed in the media if it meant sticking it to the oppressive Brighton name.

But with his mother’s passing last fall, he was beginning to wonder whom he was sticking it to after all this time. It had become rather tiring.

Up to now, he’d been able to keep that fake persona separate from his business reputation and his work for the agency. He knew that this award would be his. From his hard work. Nothing else. And he wouldn’t let anything jeopardize that.

The phone buzzed, and Marion’s voice chirped in. “That Mrs. Davenport is still holding.”

He knew the woman, and that a few compliments and effusive apologies would go far and he’d be in the clear.

Benny Sorensen, on the other hand, was going to be harder to get off his back.

He’d clearly underestimated her. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Despite himself, he smiled at the challenge.

Chapter Two

A grape Popsicle in hand, Benny was on her way back to finish up with her sixth patient of the day when the sound of a deep, masculine voice from inside the exam room slowed her step. Her pulse instantly quickened as she recognized the voice.

She stepped inside, pinning on her brightest smile. “Here you go, Chance,” she said to her seven-year-old patient, pretending she didn’t know there was a visitor. She stopped when she saw him. Her throat felt like it was constricting. “Dr. Seeley, I—I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, but it came out so quietly and choked she didn’t know if anyone even heard it.

He was sitting on the stool, his legs kicked out and crossed in front of him. He seemed to fill the whole room with his presence—which she supposed wasn’t too difficult in the small, confining space. He turned his dreamy, greenish-gray eyes—eyes that even the glasses perched on his nose couldn’t hide—on her and grinned before returning to Chance. “Couldn’t miss a chance to see how one of my favorite patients was doing. Sorry I wasn’t able to squeeze you in today, buddy, but I assure you, you are in extremely competent hands.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest? It was a shame that we missed you, though,” Chance’s mother said in a fawning voice. Apparently Benny wasn’t the only one awed by his presence. “But we’ll see you in two months at his well visit.”

“I look forward to it,” Dr. Luke Seeley said, rising to his feet. He glanced down at Benny and winked. “Thanks, Dr. Sorensen.”

She managed a quick nod but looked away under the intensity of that gaze. Why was it that speech seemed to escape her whenever she was in the presence of this man—or any man, for that matter, that she found remotely interesting?

She’d been working at the practice for almost two months now, and if she were to count the number of actual conversations she’d had with Luke Seeley, she would only need one hand. It was mortifying, really, her complete inability to function in his presence. She was sure every one of the other four pediatricians—and the office staff—had noted the fact.

“You have one of Dr. Barnett’s patients waiting for you in room three,” Roz said, her voice toneless.

“Thanks, Roz.”

Roz was officially her RN, who took the preliminary information from the patients before Benny saw them. Roz had been Dr. Martin’s nurse before Benny arrived, but for reasons unexplained, she was reassigned to Benny and Dr. Martin was assigned the more friendly and kindhearted Cindy. After having worked with the woman for two months, Benny had some suspicions about the reassignment. Her cool stare alone when Benny took too long with a patient could practically freeze water. But it wasn’t like Benny was in the position to ask for a different nurse. She was the newbie. She only hoped that with time, the woman would thaw a little. Glacial would be an improvement.

Outside room three, Benny took the clipboard from the door and read through Roz’s notes.

“Thanks for helping me out with that one,” Luke Seeley said from behind her. She froze. “Ms. Taylor can be a little more…thankful than I’m comfortable with sometimes.”

She turned, reminding herself he was only human, not a god, and that it was okay to talk to him. “Sure—”

But she’d misjudged his proximity and the clipboard she’d been holding sailed to the floor. Crap.

She bent down to grab it a second after he had apparently made the same decision. Blinding pain shot through her face as her nose connected with his head. She stumbled back, only to have two hands steady her.

“Whoa. You okay?” He was looking into her eyes and she blinked, trying to focus. “You’re bleeding. Hold on a minute.” He let go of her and watched for a second, as if to make sure she wouldn’t collapse, before walking the five feet to the counter area behind them to soak a paper towel. “Here, hold this to your nose and pinch. Lean forward.”

“I think it’s okay,” she said, pressing the towel around her nose. She could imagine what she looked like standing there, red faced and holding a Brawny towel to her face. If she could, she’d hide her entire body behind it.

He smiled and handed her back the clipboard. “Good. Just make sure you watch out for walls, doors, and low-hanging cabinets.”

“O-okay,” she mumbled as he walked away.

Kill me now
.

Instead, she turned the doorknob and walked into the exam room, shutting the door behind her. She didn’t think she was going to leave it again. Ever.

Where was her usual quick wit and her ability to one-up any jibe, which she was famous for in her family? She was a basket case any time she got within ten feet of him.

The small scream from the five-year-old girl staring up at her brought her back to reality. Benny looked down over the paper towel still pressed to her nose to see the unmistakable bright red splattered over the front of her white lab coat.

Great. Now she’d terrified a kindergartener.

Please let this day end soon.

…

But the torture had really only begun when, after being sneezed on, hit in the face by a two-year-old who didn’t like the tongue depressor in his mouth, and dropping a container of cotton swabs after she tried to reverse direction when she spied Dr. Seeley again, she arrived at her parents’ home for her celebratory birthday dinner.

Not just any birthday, but the big 3-0.

She was officially old.

She walked into the kitchen where her mom and her sister, Daisy, were finishing preparations over the stove, and Kate, her sister-in-law, grated cheese. Kate was as helpless in the kitchen as Benny and was doing the task that Benny usually got stuck with. Arriving late had its benefits.

At seeing her daughter’s arrival, her mom wiped her hands on a towel and rushed over. “
Feliz cumpleaños
! Happy birthday,” she exclaimed, a sentiment echoed by Daisy and Kate before her mom kissed her and wrapped her small arms around her, squeezing tightly. “How’s my doctor daughter?” her mom asked and stepped back, beaming at her.

Benny flushed at the phrase, but she knew it was only because her mother was so proud that she used it whenever she talked to someone about her. Her friends, her dentist, their priest, and the clerk at the grocery store. “Good, Mama. A little tired thanks to the Hugh Hefner wannabe next door.”

Kate looked up from her task. “Uh-oh. Did your neighbor throw another party?” Kate had actually been over on one of the nights when Benny’s walls felt like they’d fall in from the music next door.

“Of course.” Benny slid onto the bar stool next to Kate and stuffed some of the cheese into her mouth. “He has no consideration for anyone but himself. I even had the luxury of meeting him last night.” In short order, she described the previous night’s events that led to her graceful exit. She didn’t share how she’d stewed another hour over the horrible jerk and kicked herself for not at least throwing on a robe or running a brush through her coarse, frizzy hair—particularly after she’d caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror.

Daisy laughed then covered her mouth quickly. “Sorry, Ben, I just wish I’d been there to see you march through the party in that getup.” She tossed her long, silky black hair over a shoulder, a vision as always in a white tank top and skinny jeans that clung to a slim figure—despite giving birth to three beautiful children. Daisy had always been a tough act to follow growing up. Especially when Benny had been the chubby tomboy without any of the style, grace, or prettiness of her older sister.

“Have you complained to the home owners’ association yet?” Kate asked. “I imagine there must be something in the CCR about noise control.”

“CCR?” Daisy asked.

“Covenants, codes, and restrictions,” Kate clarified. Benny’s sister-in-law also happened to be an attorney, something that had come in handy recently when Daisy was filing for divorce. “It’s basically a set of rules that all tenants or owners have to abide by, and violating those could end up in a fine.”

“I already called the board this morning,” Benny said and sighed as she remembered the woman’s indulgent tones when she mentioned Henry Ellison’s name. “I got the distinct impression they were just humoring me. He probably has them all wrapped around his well-manicured finger.”

“If you want, I can help you draw something up. Make them listen to you.”

Benny considered the offer. Kate had already done enough by helping Daisy, and Benny hated to take up any more of her time. “I just met him last night, and for now, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt and hope things improve. But if not, I’ll give you a call. Thanks, Kate.” It was time to change subjects. Henry Ellison had already plagued too much of her time. “Has anyone heard from Cruz and Payton lately?” she asked, referring to her older brother and his new bride who were still on their honeymoon in Mexico.

It was like an epidemic, the way both of her brothers, single for so long, suddenly found the women of their dreams and married them in quick fashion. She wasn’t jealous. Not really. How could she be when the women they married were so freaking fantastic and her brothers were so happy? She didn’t want to throw herself off a bridge at all, even if it was going on six months since her last relationship tanked.

“I heard from Payton yesterday,” Kate volunteered. Payton, coincidentally, was Kate’s best friend and had been her maid of honor when she married Benny’s other brother, Dominic, last spring in Puerto Vallarta. The maid of honor and best man had ended up traveling by car across Mexico and had somehow managed to fall in love and get married—not necessarily in that order. “They’re heading to Guadalajara tomorrow and are expecting to be gone another week.”

The sliding door to the deck opened, and Benny’s dad, a tall, blond figure despite his approaching seventieth birthday stepped inside. Dominic, who had their mom’s dark hair and complexion and their father’s height and eye color, followed, carrying an oval platter filled with a large, seasoned flank steak that already had her mouth watering.

Her dad’s usually stoic face broke into a smile when he saw her. “Happy birthday,” he said, before lifting her off the floor in a warm hug.

“I’d say let’s have a game after dinner,” Dominic said, “but I’m afraid that now that you’ve hit the big three-oh, you could break a hip or something. They say it’s all downhill from here.”

“You would know, dear brother. Isn’t that gray? Right there?” she asked, touching just above her ears, hinting that his own dark hair had already started turning, which it hadn’t.

“Aunt Benny!” two high-pitched voices called out at once, storming up the stairs from the basement. Her two nieces, recently turned ten Jenna and eight-year-old Natalie, reached her first, hugging her tightly.

Their younger brother, Paul, came last, his enthusiasm barely readable. “Hey, Aunt Benny.”

“What’s wrong with you, bud?” she asked, tousling his hair.

“Please don’t start, Paul,” Daisy interrupted. “I have gone over this a dozen times already. We are not getting a dog. I have a hard enough time keeping track of you three—I’m not throwing a pup into the mix.”

Her older sister was finally getting back on her feet after her divorce, with a new promotion as assistant manager at a trendy neighborhood café and bakery as well as moving into Kate’s old house with the kids. Benny couldn’t blame her for not wanting any more chaos thrown into the mix.

“Why don’t you come and take the tortillas to the table, Paul,” their grandma said. “And girls, maybe you can set the table for us, please.”

Jenna walked around the table setting plates down in front of each chair. “Since Uncle Cruz and Aunt Payton aren’t here, can we sit with you guys tonight? Please?”

“It’s a celebration, isn’t it?” Benny asked, grabbing a tortilla from the stack and biting into it. “Of course.”

At the news, they shouted their approval. The kids usually got stuck at the bar due to lack of seating around the table during family dinners, something they were good at voicing their opinion about.

Natalie finished counting silverware and went around the table, leaving them at each setting. “Aunt Benny?” the younger girl asked. “Are you ever going to get married?”

The once tasty soft flour tortilla turned to paste in her mouth. Benny took a glimpse at the other adults. They were all looking at her with amused faces. Dominic’s eyebrow shot up, waiting for her answer.

“Maybe. One day,” she said, trying to keep her voice upbeat.

“Don’t you need a boyfriend first?” Paul asked. “You don’t ever seem to have one of those.”

Now Dominic was trying to choke back his laughter. She glared at him.

“Your aunt Benny is a busy doctor lady,” her mom said, finally coming to the rescue. “She’ll find the right guy when it’s the right time.”

“Well, she should probably hurry. I mean, thirty is pretty old,” Paul added helpfully.

“That’s enough, Paul,” Daisy said. “Aunt Benny is younger than me, and she has plenty of time.

He looked dubious. “Yeah, but you’ve already been married and have three kids. She has…no one.”

Ouch.

“Why don’t we all sit down and eat,” her dad said. “I’m starving. Your mom tells me that you three are starting soccer next week?”

At this, all three kids began talking at once.

Kate reached out and patted Benny’s arm, a smile on her lips. “Welcome to thirty.”

…

It was two hours later when Benny pulled into the parking garage and maneuvered her Mini Cooper around the corner and to her designated spot.

A spot that was currently occupied. This time by a silver Lexus SUV.

She’d take one guess as to where the owner of the vehicle was right now. The familiar boiling of her blood had her gripping the steering wheel. Fighting the urge to ram her car into the back of the offending vehicle, and the red Ferrari next to it, she drove away.

A couple minutes later, she pulled into one of the few visitor spots out front, relieved at not having to make another trek from down the block, and picked up her cell phone. Kate’s voicemail answered. “Kate? It’s Benny. About that complaint to the HOA? Let’s do it. And I want to add some parking violations to the mix. I’ll send you a copy over in the morning.”