Their work schedules—or lack thereof—was pretty much the end of the similarity between the two women.
Despite measuring in at a lean five foot ten, Mia knew her sharp features gave her the look of a fairy. She wore her ebony hair in a pixie cut, the long bangs sweeping in a curve over eyes the color of bittersweet chocolate. She leaned toward textured fabrics, rich colors and avant-garde jewelry.
Jessica, on the other hand, was petite and built with enviously lush curves. She accented her fluff of blond curls, cornflower-blue eyes and a Cupid’s bow mouth with delicate fabrics in pastels and lace, skyscraper heels, and—in her only departure from her baby-doll style—flashy diamonds.
They were complete opposites in every other way, too. Mia was quiet. Jessica was flirtatious. Mia had cut her teeth on diplomacy. Jessica thrived on excitement. Mia was an introvert who loved nothing better than peace and quiet; Jessica was an extrovert who needed crowds and noise and attention. Jessica reveled in a secret love affair, sharing every detail—every detail—but the man’s name, while Mia had no more interest in a relationship than she had in dancing naked over hot coals.
And yet somehow they’d become friends. And despite Mia’s family’s concerns, she thought Jessica was good for her. The other woman brought spice and energy and excitement into her life, something she hadn’t realized was missing until she and Jessica had run into each other on the street two months ago.
It’d been the first the women had seen of each other since they’d attended the same boarding school. She’d been surprised Jessica even remembered, let alone recognized, her. But Jessica had swept her into a hug, taken her to lunch and—as soon as she’d found out Mia had a two-bedroom apartment—begged to move in for a few months.
“I thought you were working today,” she said as Jessica leaned one arm against the doorframe and propped the other on her tiny waist.
“I decide to take a half day,” Jessica said in a husky voice that made men melt. “Fridays should always be half days, don’t you think? Besides, I have a date tonight.”
Jessica hadn’t lived here long, but Mia knew from experience that a date night meant spa time, a Victoria’s Secret binge and a juicy morning-after story hot enough to singe Mia’s imagination.
What must it be like to have that kind of love life? Mia wondered. Incendiary passion, breathtaking excitement. Heck, she’d take enduring interest, something she’d yet to have with a man, much to her mother’s disgust.
“You didn’t answer my question.” At Mia’s frown, Jessica added, “Why the long face?”
Mia thought of Lorraine’s mandate that she get Santiago Alcosta to attend the gala. The best way to get something done was straight out, her father always said. Just do it, find it or ask for it.
She opened her mouth to do just that.
“Just thinking about the business of, well, my business,” Mia heard herself saying instead. “I have three smaller events this week to deal with, plus the gala next weekend, and I still need to find an assistant.”
Preferably an assistant who thought raising funds for charity itself was an ample paycheck.
“I can help you out,” Jessica offered, crossing the kitchen to start pulling out ingredients. “I’ve got a little extra time on my hands after tonight. My hottie is heading out of town for a week, so I’d love a project to keep me busy.”
A week of free help?
“What about your job?”
“I’m sure I can work it out,” Jessica said, flashing her most engaging smile. “Ready for your favorite matcha mocha latte?”
Mia hesitated.
Not over the latte. That, she wanted.
It was a favor she wasn’t so sure of.
“I appreciate the offer...”
“I’ll take care of any research, handle vendors, pay the bills and organize your database,” Jessica assured her, starting to work on her caffeine creations.
As the scent of coffee filled the air, Mia pictured Jessica’s room, with clothes thrown over furniture, a vanity table splotched with spilled makeup and shoes dumped in piles in the closet. And the papers. Papers were stacked, piled, spread and wadded everywhere.
Mia placed a protective hand on the files next to her.
“I appreciate the offer. I really do. But that’s not really—”
“I’ll even handle finding someone to help you at events to replace that gal. What was her name? The one who kept breaking things? Your computer, that case of glassware, her leg.”
“Bree was my coordination assistant,” Mia murmured. “And she was just a little accident-prone.”
“Right. Coordination assistant. I’ll find you one.” Jessica began pouring ingredients into the blender. “You won’t have to worry about anything.”
“But—”
“I know how you are about taking help with the business end of things, but I promise, I know what I’m doing,” Jessica said, setting two tall glass mugs on the table, each frothed high with whipped cream and a delicate layer of almond dust. “It’s not like I’d screw things up for you.”
“Of course I don’t think that,” Mia denied half-heartedly, wrapping both hands around the mug to inhale the rich blend of scents to buy a few seconds. “But I’ve already put a call into Karen Lawson. She coordinates volunteers for a number of charities. I’ve worked with her before and am sure she’ll be sending someone my way soon.”
“Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. You don’t want to depend on a maybe,” Jessica said, reaching into a slender pocket in her silk suit to pull out a business card. She set it on the table amidst Mia’s piles of folders and stacks of files, and using one pink nail, pushed it forward. “Not when you’re going to be really busy since I just snagged you a dream event.”
“A dream event?” Curious, Mia lifted the card.
Unsurprised, she read the name Santiago Alcosta, embossed in glossy black ink on heavy white card stock, with the entire card framed by a slender gold line. Elegant, understated decadence, she decided. That’d be the theme she’d pitch to go with these cards.
“Tell me more about this dream event,” she invited, wondering how to parlay what was probably a corporate luncheon into a chance to personally invite Alcosta to the Forever Families gala.
“I showed one of your fund-raiser pitches to my boss this morning, and Señor Alcosta is not only excited—he’s ready to rock and roll. There are some conditions,” Jessica continued before Mia could ask how she’d gotten her hands on one of Mia’s fund-raiser pitches. “You know, I told you how picky he can be. Lunch at twelve-twelve every day. At every meeting, people have to be seated in alphabetical order. The scent of the flowers can never overpower the scent of the food. That kind of thing. I’m not kidding when I say that Alcosta is seriously particular.”
Mia flipped the page of her notebook to write that all down.
“What are you doing?”
Mia glanced up.
“Making notes for the event. A luncheon?”
“Luncheon?” Jessica laughed. “Oh, no. Bigger than that. He wants to build a new children’s hospital in Mexico City and he wants you to handle a series of events to raise the funds.”
“A series of...”
“Yeah, a whole bunch of events.