Flirting With Temptation (6 page)

She turned to see Kitty place her pale peach purse on the table then glance at her manicure. Typically, Babette would see the gesture as a sign of a lack of interest or boredom, but that wasn’t the case with Kitty. She was throwing out the wrong signal, but Babette had read enough people now to spot someone who had created their own body language. Kitty’s manicure check was an attempt to hide the fact that she was uncomfortable. Being uncomfortable probably wasn’t something she was used to. The woman was the epitome of wealth and class. Due to inherit Carelle Pharmaceuticals, she gave the appearance of an intelligent, sophisticated individual who, judging by the professional yet feminine pastel business suit, was very in tune to her sexuality. This was the kind of client Babette dreamed of, one who would help her make her mark with the women of Mountain Brook. Lenora Maxwell was known by some people around town, but Kitty Carelle was the crème de la crème when it came to Birmingham society, and the potential for more affluent clients.

“So, how can I help you, Ms. Carelle?” Babette asked, taking the seat across from her then writing Kitty’s name across the top of her client information form.

Kitty’s pretty mouth dipped downward and she sighed deeply. “I lost the love of my life, and I want him back.” She paused, then added, “In truth, I broke his heart.”

Babette wrote her words on the paper, not necessarily because she said something that should be written down, but because Babette wanted to keep her hands, and her mind, busy. Plus, it caused her to look at the page, and it hid her eyes from Kitty momentarily. Eyes and hands were the biggest giveaways in body language, and Babette didn’t want to give anything away on her end. She mentally willed her pulse to stop racing, took a steady breath, then looked back up. “Tell me what you have in mind, Ms. Carelle, and I’ll do my best to iron things out between the two of you.”

“I want to get back with him,” Kitty said matter-of-factly. “But he won’t even return my calls. I know I treated him terribly, but in truth, ever since meeting him, no one else compares. I mean, sure, my head was turned by Samuel Farraday, but that was merely infatuation.”

“Samuel Farraday, of Farraday Suites?” Babette asked, still writing.

Kitty’s perfect heart-shaped mouth quirked into a semi-frown, and she nodded miserably. Her hair shimmered with the motion, and Babette silently wondered if there were any time whatsoever that this woman didn’t look like she was ready for a photo shoot. She was upset, nervous, and yet still somehow looked extremely polished.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Babette asked. “So I’ll know how to best repair the relationship?” And because she simply wanted to know.

“We were in Florida, and Samuel happened to be staying at the same resort. He saw me by the pool—we’d seen each other at a few charity functions before—and we started chatting. He mentioned he was taking his yacht out for a week or so and wanted some company. I guess I was getting scared at the prospect of getting so serious with one man, so I left with Samuel.”

“You left,”—Babette’s voice stalled before she blurted out,
“Jeff?”
She wasn’t supposed to know who the woman was talking about—“you left the man you love?” She tried her best to make the question sound more factual than accusing.

“Doesn’t make sense to me, either,” Kitty admitted. “But I want him to know that I realize how stupid I was and that I’d do anything—anything—to have him back.” She sighed again. “I worshipped him completely. Then I just let him go, like I do every other guy, except we were about to—about to get—” The lower half of her glossed lips trembled and she shook her head, unable to finish the sentence with the word Babette was expecting—
married
.

“That’s okay. If you can’t talk about the relationship, I understand.”

“No, no I need to. I haven’t talked about it enough, because there are always reporters around at all of the functions I attend, and they’re always listening. Truthfully, I need to talk about it, and I know it will help you do your job if you know as much as you can.”

“Okay. Then take your time,” Babette said, offering an understanding smile, and chomping at the bit to find out why this lady would pick Samuel Farraday, yacht or not, over Jeff. Samuel Farraday, from what Babette had read, was a spoiled, über-rich frat-boy type, who was in his mid-forties, but tried to pass for late twenties.

Kitty sniffed. “The main thing you need to know is . . . he
isn’t
like every other guy. He’s amazing, and I want him back. I want to marry him.”

“I see,” Babette said, nodding as though this wasn’t a big deal, but knowing that any guy who’d been “worshipped,” then dumped in the manner Kitty presumably discarded last year’s shoes, probably wouldn’t be all that eager to reconcile. With Jeff Eubanks it’d be even more of a boot to the ego.

“I know you’re busy,” Kitty said, opening her purse and removing her checkbook. “Lenora said you stay booked well in advance.”

“I actually have an assistant now,” Babette said, referring to Genie, who had recently started helping her with clients. Genie had taken an interest in Babette’s business after being half of Babette’s first success story. In fact, she’d spent the last six months watching Babette and practicing her own people-reading techniques and was looking forward to having her own assignments.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Kitty exclaimed, her baby blue eyes glistening. “Then you could start immediately?”

“I should be able to,” Babette admitted, slightly surprised by the woman’s urgency. She wondered if Jeff would be put off if the woman asking him to give Kitty a second chance happened to have been his bed buddy, sex buddy, whatever you wanted to call it, a year ago. She inhaled, then exhaled thickly. Better cover her bases now, just in case Jeff hung up on her the minute she called. “You realize that what I’ll do is talk to him, get to know him and attempt to read what he’s hiding beneath the surface. I typically try to point out what a person is already feeling but unwilling to admit.” She took a deep breath of encouragement, then added, “I can’t
make
anyone fall in love. However, if he does still have feelings for you, I’ll attempt to convince him to give you another chance. Beyond that, I can’t guarantee what happens. That’s up to you.”

“Oh, I know. Lenora explained the process. If you can’t mend the fences, then you don’t charge your clients. She also said that’s why your services are so expensive, but that you’re worth every cent.”

Babette didn’t know what to say to that. Her services were high because she only took a few clients at a time and spent several weeks on each relationship, ample time to schedule meetings and “read” the couple.

“But I also know that your track record so far is a hundred percent,” Kitty said.

Babette nodded, and began to rethink her business plan, specifically the part where she got no money whatsoever if the relationship wasn’t mended.

“I’m willing to pay you triple what Lenora paid you,” Kitty said, while Babette tried to control her galloping heart.

“Triple?” The word came out in a semi-croak, making Babette’s shock unmistakable. So much for controlling her own body language. And then, of course, her mind whispered,
“Kitty knows talking Jeff into seeing her again will be next to impossible,”
but then that was quickly followed by,
“Goodbye student loan, hello cha-ching!”

“I don’t know if you’ve ever traveled for the job, but I’ll need you to. Jeff lives in Florida.”

“Jeff?” Babette questioned, her voice remarkably normal, thank goodness.

“Jeff Eubanks, my ex-fiancé,” Kitty supplied.

Babette wrote it down, then added, “He lives in Florida?” She forced her facial expression to remain neutral, like someone who didn’t know exactly where Jeff lived and hadn’t spent a good deal of time in his condo.

“Destin. On the beach,” Kitty clarified, gracefully pushing her hair behind her ear with her professionally manicured hand. Each nail was a perfect oval, Babette noticed, and tipped with a frosty peach polish that complemented her outfit beautifully. Babette’s nails, by contrast, were shaped square on the ends because that was easier for her to do on her own, and they were painted a color deemed Knock ’Em Dead Red that had been on sale in the Cosmetics section at Wal-Mart.

“But I’m willing to pay you triple your normal fee, plus all expenses for you to stay at the same complex where he owns a condominium. It’s on the beach, so it shouldn’t be a terrible hardship,” she continued, while Babette simply nodded, speechless. “Lenora said you typically require three weeks to contact the old flame, talk with them and smooth the waters.”

“That’s the average time required and has proven to work well,” Babette admitted, glad for delivering a controlled response, instead of blurting it out in
Have mercy, she’s paying me triple!
fashion.

And Kitty had done her homework. Three weeks was Babette’s average for a relationship repair. She usually took one week to learn as much as possible about the person’s current lifestyle, another week to establish a connection with the individual and, most importantly, read their body language toward the other person, then the last week to actually meet and discuss the prospect for reconnecting with their old friend, or in this case, old fiancé. It was a process that worked, or at least it had worked every other time. There were always emotions hiding beneath the surface, and Babette truly enjoyed the task—something akin to an emotional treasure hunt—of unveiling them. So far, every client had suspected correctly that the significant other from their past still cared. Kitty obviously suspected the same about Jeff and simply wanted Babette to help her prove it.

But this assignment would be different, because Babette didn’t need the first steps. She certainly knew everything there was to know about Jeff’s lifestyle, and heaven knew the two of them already had an established connection. Or disconnection.

In any case, Babette really wanted to make this fence-mend between Kitty and Jeff work, even if she were dealing with her own old flame, because triple her normal fee would give her enough cash to completely pay off that last student loan. And she really wanted that thing to disappear for good.

“Here’s a check for your services,” Kitty said, sliding it across the table. “I’ve already reserved a beachfront condo for you in Destin.” At Babette’s shocked expression, she explained, “I wanted to make sure one was available before I presented the offer to you, and naturally, I’d hoped you’d take me on as a client.”

“You’ve made the reservation already? When did you plan on me starting?” Kitty wasn’t expecting Babette to turn her down. Babette wondered if that were part of the woman’s techniques for success; she simply assumed she’d get what she wanted, went for it and got it.

Kitty’s smile tightened, only slightly, but Babette noticed. She did not want to be turned down. “The reservation starts tomorrow, with check-in at 4:00 p.m., and I have it reserved for two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Babette asked. The woman had already stated that she knew a mending of fences typically took Babette three weeks. Granted, it shouldn’t take nearly that long with Jeff, since Babette knew him, but Kitty didn’t know that.

“That’s why I’m tripling your pay. I don’t want to wait three weeks to have him back. I need you to do it in two.” She placed both palms on the table as she spoke. Easy body language there; she was taking a position of authority and wasn’t open for discussion on the matter at hand. And since she was the one with the big check, and Babette was the one who wanted said big check, Babette swallowed past the urge to tell her what she could do with her money and her demands.

“Your confidence in my abilities is flattering,” Babette said. “And I do believe I can accomplish everything in two weeks, if I have a bit of background information from you to get me going. Basically, you can help me with what I would normally do during week one.”

“Of course,” Kitty said. “What do you need to know?”

Babette held her pen poised and ready to write. “Tell me about your relationship with Jeff Eubanks,” she said, glancing at his name on the page as she spoke. “The details about how you first met, your background and all. And the breakup, of course.”

“It was at the annual Bruno’s charity golf tournament in Birmingham. He was there to represent his family’s department stores—they own a department store chain—and I was there for my family’s company.” She smiled softly. “There were plenty of nice-looking men at the event, but there was something about Jeff that simply made him stand out, and it wasn’t just the fact that he was quite compelling in appearance. He also has a presence about him, a confident, strong, sexy quality that simply made my heart flutter. Once I saw him, I didn’t even notice anyone else, and I decided right then that I had to meet him.”

Babette knew that feeling well. She’d experienced it herself, and she suddenly recalled the man who’d invoked it. Though Kitty sat across from her, Jeff’s image clearly overpowered the social queen. And it was such a nice image that Babette didn’t have the heart, or the desire, to push it away.

His skin was usually tan, because he loved long walks on the beach, and his hair was perpetually sun-streaked for the same reason. His smile always held a hint of mischievousness, as though he knew a secret, or could make you divulge your secrets to him if he so pleased. And though he and his brother were identical twins, there were subtle differences that Babette adored. Jeff kept his hair longer than Ethan; where Ethan’s was cut close and neat, Jeff’s sandy waves were neat enough to pass for business, but long enough to capture and emphasize those natural highlights. They teased his brow and curled slightly at his nape. Those curls were perfect for wrapping your fingers in when he was above you, pushing his length deep inside of you, while he drove you over the edge.

Babette cleared her throat and pushed the image, the delicious image that would probably invade her dreams later, out of her head. “So then you met him at the golfing event?”

“Yes; when I did get to talk to him, he was so quiet and reserved. Honestly, he wasn’t anything like what I expected. I guess I thought someone who looked like him, and was as successful as he was, would be more outgoing and more secure about himself around women.”