Operation Prince Charming (7 page)

Hunter sat riveted as Enjolique Redmond’s rich soprano commanded the theater, bringing fiery diva Floria Tosca to life.

Enjolique’s celestial tones along with the classical tenors, baritones, and basses making up the rest of the cast touched a place deep inside him with their heart and powerful voices.

Ali had been right when she called it moving, he thought. Subtitles scrolled across a screen above the stage, but he didn’t want to look away from Enjolique’s expressive chestnut-hued face to read them.

Now he understood Ali’s love of the opera, and her eagerness to help him enjoy it. He wished she were seated beside him in the darkened theater so he could witness her passion for it firsthand.

Erica drowsed, and Hunter cringed inwardly as a snore rippled down their aisle. Several people turned in their seat, and he didn’t have to see their faces to know they were glaring.

Hunter nudged her with his elbow.

“What?” she snarled, her voice husky with sleep.

He inclined his head toward the performers, not wanting to cause more of a disruption by whispering in her ear as she was mumbling as she came out of her sleep.

Erica yawned audibly, not bothering to stifle the noise with her hand.

Hunter heard a woman’s voice hiss from down the aisle. He couldn’t blame her. The performers’ amazing voices had magically transported them back in time to early twentieth-century Italy, only to be yanked to reality by Erica’s rudeness.

Hearing Erica’s sharp intake of breath at the admonishment, he placed his hand over hers to forestall an outburst and to try to reconnect with her on some level.

The evening had gotten off to a bad start when he’d arrived at Erica’s penthouse wearing his charcoal suit instead of the tuxedo she’d wanted.

“You promised to make an effort,” she’d whined.

The fact that he was even going required major effort on his part, he’d wanted to say, but kept a lid on it to keep the peace. They needed a pleasant evening out together.

“My date should be wearing a tux,” she’d said. “You never know who we’ll run into.”

He’d kissed her lightly on her heavily made up cheek. “No one will be looking at me,” he’d said. “You look good enough for both of us.”

“I do, don’t I?” Erica had twirled to show off her shimmery gold cocktail dress. It had a deep slit up the side to highlight her long legs.

In the darkened theater, Hunter kept his hand over Erica’s until the curtain dropped on the opera’s first act and the lights came on.

“Is it over?” Erica asked. “Thank God.”

Then why did you pretend like coming here tonight was so important?
he wanted to ask but didn’t bother. He already knew the answer.

“It’s just the end of the first act,” he said aloud. “We have twenty minutes, so let’s go out to the lobby to stretch our legs a bit. I believe they have champagne.”

A smile overtook the scowl marring her thin face. “Now you’re talking.”

They made their way to the crowded lobby. Two of the Tennessee Performing Arts Center’s four venues had performances that evening, and the opera audience flowed out into a lobby already jammed with people there to see the repertory theater’s new show.

“I believe you mentioned champagne,” Erica said.

Fortunately, Hunter was able to slip into a short line and retrieve two glasses. He took a sip of the bubbly, wishing it were a cold beer instead.

“Don’t look, but Mrs. Palmer and her husband are coming this way,” Erica whispered excitedly. “She’s a former ambassador to some wretched country in the middle of nowhere and very tight with Vivian Cox.”

Hunter blew out a breath. Again, with Vivian Cox. He didn’t know what he was sicker of, hearing the woman’s name or Erica’s all-out campaign to impress her.

“Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, how lovely to see you here.”

Hunter turned as Erica greeted a tall, regal woman with a huge smile. The woman wore a simple black dress and her graying braids were swept atop her head. Mrs. Palmer and her husband returned Erica’s exuberant greeting with tight smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.

“I see you’re awake now,” Mrs. Palmer said.

Hunter watched Erica’s smile falter. “I…uh…I wasn’t asleep. I just prefer to enjoy the performance with my eyes closed so I can fully appreciate the singers.”

The other woman studied Erica a moment, the corner of her mouth pulled upward in a nonamused smile. “I’m glad you could appreciate it, because it didn’t seem as though it could keep your attention.”

Mr. Palmer, who reminded Hunter of a grim-faced undertaker, nodded his bald head. “Sounded like somebody was riding a Harley up the aisle,” he muttered.

Hunter told himself he wasn’t going to butt in. Besides, this time wasn’t like the other occasions when the people Erica was desperate to impress took potshots at her. The Palmers, along with everyone sitting in their section, had a legitimate gripe.

“How could someone doze through such a moving story? I don’t understand.” Mrs. Palmer continued while Erica stared on helplessly.

Hunter hadn’t intended to intervene, but his girlfriend looked so pitiful. Biting back the urge to tell them they’d made their point and to get off her back, he tried another approach.

“I was told the singing of
Te Deum
was a highlight of the first act, and I wasn’t disappointed. What did you two think?” Hunter directed his question at the Palmers.

“I tell you I was sitting on the edge of my seat.” Mrs. Palmer clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “The baritone gave me the chills.”

Her husband bobbed his head. “We had the opportunity to hear him sing last season in
Don Giovanni
. Mesmerizing.”

“This is my first opera,” Hunter admitted. “I read in the study guide
Vissi d’arte
is also a noteworthy aria.”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Palmer enthused, and went on to point out what Hunter should listen for in the second and third acts.

The lights flickered, signaling the end of the
intermission. Mrs. Palmer turned to Erica. “It’s not often you come across a man so cultured and handsome. You’re a lucky woman,” she said.

His girlfriend’s plastered smile lasted until the Palmers were out of earshot.

“I don’t believe you did that,” Erica said, the scowl returning to her face.

“What? Come to your rescue?” Hunter asked incredulously as they walked back into the theater.

“All you did was make them fawn all over you and make me look stupid,” she hissed.

“I thought I was helping you. Besides, I tried to get you to come early to hear the director’s background lecture, but you claimed to know all you needed to know about this opera,” Hunter shot back.

“You didn’t have to show me up with all that talk of arias and tenors and whatnot.”

Hunter scrubbed a hand down his face, unable to believe what he was hearing. He’d preached patience to Sandy, Pete, and everyone else Erica had offended since she became wealthy, but she finally had him on the verge of losing it.

“You’re the one who wanted me to be ‘charming.’ Isn’t that what the classes I’m taking for you are all about?”

“Well, maybe they were a mistake. You’re becoming too charming for my tastes.”

The auditorium lights dimmed as they took their seats. Despite the tension between him
and Erica, Hunter found himself sucked into both the second and third acts of the performance. Meanwhile, Erica fumed beside him with her arms crossed over her chest.

He rose to his feet clapping as the actors came out to take their bows. The applause grew thunderous when Enjolique Raymond took her last bow and the curtain fell a final time.

Tension followed them like an overhead storm cloud on the short drive to Erica’s penthouse. He pulled up to the curb near the entry to her building.

“I was out of line back there,” she said finally. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said with a sigh.

She laid a hand on his arm. “Do you want to come up?”

He shook his head. “It’s been a long day. I need to get to bed.”

“That’s exactly where I want you.”

She crossed her legs suggestively, letting the slit of her dress fall open, revealing her thigh. His mind flashed back to Ali sitting in the passenger side of his car, and how a glimpse of her shapely thigh had practically set his mouth to watering.

Ignoring her invitation, he rounded the car and opened the passenger-side door for her. “Maybe another time.”

Realization dawned on Hunter as he drove to his town house. He wanted to get in a woman’s
panties tonight, all right, but that woman wasn’t Erica.

It was Alison Spencer.

Erica couldn’t believe it. Hunter had turned her down.

She stalked through the foyer. An overhead crystal chandelier illuminated the pricey art and antiques along the corridor. The real estate agent had said it was decorated with an eye for European modernism. Erica just knew it looked expensive, in keeping with the image she wanted to project.

Usually, she marveled at the posh décor, still unable to believe she lived in such a grand place. She alsowished her mother, a housekeeper who’d spent her life cleaning up after rich people, were alive to see it.

Tonight, however, she was oblivious of her surroundings. Erica’s ears were peeled for the sound of Hunter’s footsteps coming up behind her. When she didn’t hear him, she glanced over her shoulder.

No Hunter.

Erica stopped. She pivoted on her Christian Louboutin pumps and looked through the glass door. His car was gone.

He’d actually gone home to his dinky town house rather than spend the night in her luxurious penthouse with her. Even after she’d swallowed her pride and offered up an apology,
when it was clear she hadn’t done anything wrong. Not to mention hinting she wasn’t wearing anything beneath her dress.

She bit back another wave of disappointment. It wasn’t going to happen tonight.

Raising her chin, Erica walked past the concierge station. It was Hunter’s loss. Anyway, she didn’t like how he’d made her look bad in front of the Palmers.

“
I was told the singing of Te Deum was a highlight of the first act,”
she mimicked.

Then he had admitted to them this was his first opera like some ignorant bumpkin, rather than letting them believe this was a typical outing for them.

Erica exhaled, the thought of it angering her all over again.

Yet she knew once she’d had him in her bed, she would have been more than willing to forgive him.

“Good evening, Miss Boyd.”

The concierge walked from behind his desk and used his key to open the elevator leading to the penthouse level.

“You look lovely tonight. Did you enjoy your evening out?”

Erica exhaled sharply as she boarded the elevator. “I’m not in the mood for small talk tonight, Dan,” she said crisply. “Just take me up to my floor, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Guilt niggled at her. She shouldn’t take her foul mood out on Dan. It wasn’t his fault she was stuck riding in the elevator with him instead of Hunter. If fact, she’d given Hunter a key to the elevator when she’d first moved in. Back then he couldn’t wait to get her alone in the elevator.

She heard a chime and the doors opened. Erica pulled some bills from her clutch and offered them to Dan to make up for snapping at him.

Dan kept his hands at his side. “No, thanks, Miss Boyd.”

Damn, Erica thought. Was every man in Nashville turning her down tonight?

Inside her penthouse, she kicked off her shoes and poured herself a glass of wine. She downed it in one gulp and helped herself to another.

She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, which offered a spectacular view of downtown Nashville.

“I’m on top of the world, literally,” she said, hoisting her glass in mock salute to the sparkling city lights.

Then why did she feel so miserable?

Erica took a generous sip from her wineglass. Her mother had dreamed of one day living like the people she’d cleaned up after and shared her fantasies of the glamorous life with her daughter.

Gladys Boyd would pick her young daughter
up and twirl her around. “One of these days, a rich man is going to take one look at my beautiful little Erica and make her the queen of one of these castles,” she’d say.

Gladys had scrubbed toilets to put her Erica through nursing school, and after graduation she secured her daughter a private-duty job taking care of a wheelchair-bound woman.

Erica had grown very close to her wealthy, elderly patient over the years, more so after Erica’s mother had suffered a fatal heart attack. Neither of them had family, so their bond had been like one of blood relatives.

Erica circled her finger around the rim of the near-empty glass. Her patient’s death six months ago had been a heartbreaking blow, but she was shocked to learn the woman had left her the bulk of a considerable estate.

Now she was finally the queen of the castle, as her mother had always wished, Erica thought. Unfortunately, her subjects hadn’t realized the old Erica was gone forever.

Vivian Cox had yet to give her stamp of approval that would guarantee Erica access to the best clubs and committees and acceptance among her elite social circle.

Then there was Hunter, who was doing absolutely nothing to help her toward her goal. If anything, he’d become a hindrance.

Erica placed her empty glass on the table for
the maid to take care of in the morning and sauntered upstairs to her bedroom. Since Hunter Coleman didn’t possess the kind of charm and sophistication she required in a partner, maybe it was time she found a man who did.

Ali arrived at the school early again the next morning, eager to begin her day.

After walking around the mall with Sandy last night, she still hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty apartment. She’d thought about stopping by her aunt’s house, but vetoed the idea. It had been nearly nine o’clock at night, and more than likely, her aunt would have been asleep.

So instead she’d stopped by a twenty-four-hour, big-box home improvement store on her way home from the mall. There was so much the school needed, she didn’t know where to begin. However, after scouring the aisles for the better part of an hour, she’d decided on a portable air-conditioning unit, and at the last minute she’d tossed a new ceiling fan for her aunt’s office into her cart.

Although Aunt Rachel got around better than a person half her age, Ali realized she was getting up in years. She wanted to make her aunt’s office more comfortable this upcoming summer,
because who knew when they’d be able to afford central air-conditioning?

Ali walked into her aunt’s office, intending to install the fan before the older woman came in to work, but was surprised to see her aunt already seated at her desk.

“Aunt Rachel, I didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

Her aunt looked up from the papers she’d been reviewing and greeted her with a smile. As usual, she was wearing a suit, in a flattering shade of lavender. “I wanted to get this paperwork done before my ‘Art of the Afternoon Tea’ class,” she said. “I’m going out to lunch today.”

Ali raised an eyebrow. “With a man?”

“You know better,” “Aunt Rachel responded with a smile. “I’m having lunch in Franklin with my friend Vivian. We pledged sorority together back in college,” she said. “Since your uncle passed, the only man in my life is Jesus.”

Her aunt’s husband had died before Ali was born, but there were framed photos of him in nearly every room of her aunt’s home.

“That reminds me,” Ali said. She grabbed a chair from across the room and plopped it down in front of her aunt’s desk. “Edward and I went out for coffee,” she said.

“Oh.” Her aunt averted her eyes as she reshuffled the sheaf of papers in her hand.

“Don’t you want to hear about our date?”
Ali narrowed her gaze. “The one you insisted I go on.”

Her aunt put down the papers and sighed. “Alison, I didn’t know. Really, I didn’t. When Celia bragged about her newly single nephew, she implied he was your age. I had no idea he was older than me.”

“How did you find out?”

“Celia brought him by the house after his date with you. He wanted me to use my influence to convince you to go out with him again.”

Ali’s mouth dropped open. She shook her head to get the horrific thought of Edward and his
magic pills
out of it. “I hope you’re not going to try, because there’s no way I’m going out with him again.”

“Certainly not,” her aunt huffed. “I told him to put on some proper clothes, take those asinine earrings out of his ears, and grow up.”

“You didn’t?” Ali asked with amusement in her voice, wishing she could have been the proverbial fly on the wall.

“Yes, I did. Then I told him to go home and beg his wife’s forgiveness.”

“Good for you, Auntie,” Ali said. She leaned forward in her chair. “Do you think he’ll go back to his wife? Do you think she’ll take him back?”

Aunt Rachel rolled her eyes. “I don’t care.”
She lowered her voice and winked. “I just don’t want that old goat to wind up being
my
nephew.”

Ali threw her head back and laughed until tears brimmed in her eyes. She looked over to see her aunt laughing too.

“I’m sorry for practically forcing you into that blind date,” Aunt Rachel said. “You’re welcome to start your techie or whatever you called it class with my blessing.”

Ali shook her head. “Oh, it’s going to take more than that to get you back in my good book.”

Her aunt dabbed at the tears of laughter in her own eyes with a handkerchief before blowing out a defeated breath. “What do you want?”

“I need you to promise me that you won’t try interfering in my life again,” Ali said. Once the embarrassment of this attempt wore off, she didn’t want her aunt playing amateur matchmaker again.

Her aunt looked down before raising her head to meet her gaze. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, dear.”

Ali sighed. “You know how much I adore you, but I simply can’t allow you to interfere in my life again.”

“It’s too late,” he aunt said. “I’ve already stuck my nose into your business.”

“Oh, Auntie,” Ali groaned, wondering what the older woman had obligated her to do now.

“I mentioned to my soror, Vivian, that you lost your job at that paper down in Florida. Long story short, she pulled a few strings.”

Ali watched her aunt pull open the top drawer of her desk and take out a business card. “An interview has been set up for you at the paper here. Here’s the managing editor’s card.” She slid it across her desk. “He’s expecting your call.”

“I can’t,” Ali said with determination. “Any job I get will be on my own merits.”

Her aunt shook her head. “This is simply an interview, dear. If a job comes out of it, believe me, it will be on your own merit.”

Ali took the card and slipped it into her pocket. She rounded the desk and hugged her aunt. “Thank you, Auntie.”

A strange feeling enveloped her as she walked down the hallway toward her own office. It took her a few moments to realize it was
hope
.

She hadn’t felt it in a very long time.

Hunter smoothed his hand over the section of drywall and ran the sandpaper over it again. He’d spent the other night scraping off the worn cabbage rose print wallpaper from his grandmother’s old dining room and patching the dings he’d made in the walls.

Today was his first day off in two weeks. He planned to spend the morning sanding down
the rough spots from his patch job and prepare the walls to paint.

He pulled his dust mask down and walked over to change the station on the satellite radio he kept here to keep him company while he worked. The soulful sounds of an R & B song gave way to the strains of the opera channel. He turned up the volume.

Hunter had no idea who the singer was or what the song was about. All he knew was he liked it.

“Who do you think you’re fooling?” he muttered, covering his nose and mouth with the mask. He picked up the sandpaper again. “You like it because it makes you think of Ali.”

Visions of the joy on her face when she’d tried to prepare him for last night’s performance floated to the forefront. She’d been so excited over the opera, she’d lowered the invisible wall she’d erected around herself, and for a little while she’d let him in.

It made him wonder what it would be like if she really dropped her guard around him. His thoughts drifted to the kiss they’d nearly shared.

Hunter rubbed the sandpaper harder against the wall. He had no business entertaining those thoughts. Although it hadn’t seemed like it lately, Erica was the woman in his life.

He thought about the way she had acted last night. He’d done his best to help her, and she’d
basically had a hissy fit. Even if he had followed her up to her place, nothing would have happened between them.

Her behavior had been a total turn-off.

A knock sounded and the front door squeaked opened at the same time.

“Son, is that you?” his father’s voice called out.

Hunter yanked down his dust mask and sighed. He hadn’t wanted to get into this yet, especially with his father. “I’m in the dining room.”

The senior partner of the corporate law firm bearing his name, Michael Coleman was usually at his downtown offices or in court at this time of day.

“What are you doing here, Dad?”

His father, in his workday uniform of dark suit, white shirt, and paisley tie, looked about the room in amazement as he walked on the drop cloth covering the floor. “I thought the same thing when I passed by and saw your car parked in the driveway.”

“Careful,” Hunter said, getting between his father and one of the walls. “You don’t want to get dust on your suit.”

His father sidestepped the wall. “Thanks.” The shocked expression remained on his face. “I have a meeting with the chief executive officer at the hospital.”

For as long as Hunter could remember, his father’s firm had handled legal matters for the
community hospital just a few blocks away. His father continued to look around. “I had no idea you’ve been working on Mama’s house.”

Hunter swallowed hard to push down the remorse that still rose to his chest at the mention of his grandmother. Fifteen years had passed since she’d died, but Hunter’s guilt lingered.

Ignoring the dust, his father ran a hand over the walls. “I see you took down the wallpaper,” he said.

“A few days ago.” Hunter hesitated. “Are you okay with it?”

Although the house belonged to him and he didn’t need his father’s permission, the old man’s approval was still important. He was relieved when his father smiled.

“I begged your grandmother for years to let me take it down, but she refused. Your grandfather had put it up as a surprise for their first wedding anniversary, and she didn’t care how old and ugly it got, it was staying.”

Hunter remembered his grandmother standing in the same spot he was standing on now saying the very thing. The thought of her standing with her hands on her hips defending the hideous wallpaper brought a smile to his lips, even if he couldn’t manage a laugh.

His father slapped him lightly on his back. “No, son. I don’t mind. Mama’s been gone a long time now,” he said. “It’s time.”

“I’m going to paint in here.” Hunter rubbed
his hands against his work jeans. He went to the other side of the room and retrieved a color sample card. “What do you think?”

His father eyed the shades of terra-cotta and scanned the room. “It’s going to be quite a change, but a good one, I think. It’ll give the place a masculine feel to it.”

“I already pulled up the carpet. The hardwood floors underneath it are too nice to hide. I’m planning to sand and refinish them.”

“Do you need a hand? I put myself through undergrad working construction. Even at sixty, I can still pound a mean hammer. I could come by on the weekends.”

Hunter shook his head. He’d turned down his father’s offers over the years to renovate the old house. He’d even refused his father’s more than generous offer to buy it from him.

“I can’t explain it. All I know is it’s important for me to do the work on this place myself…” Hunter paused and smiled briefly at his father. “But I appreciate the offer.”

“I can’t wait to see how it turns out.” His father inspected a section of wall Hunter had already sanded smooth. “So, are you thinking of moving in here when you’re done?”

Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“Son, you have to forgive yourself. I know your grandmother wouldn’t want you beating yourself up like this.”

Hunter stiffened. “Not now, Dad.”

His father threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I’ll let it go, but your mother will have my hide if I don’t ask when you’re going to come by the house for dinner.”

“Soon,” Hunter said, relieved his father had dropped the subject. “Now come see what I did with the kitchen.”

His father stopped midstep and glanced at the radio. He raised a graying eyebrow. “Opera?”

Hunter smiled. “It’s a new interest of mine.”

Ali hummed a tune from
Tosca
as she stood on the ladder positioning the last blade on her aunt’s new ceiling fan. She’d been floating on the sliver of hope her aunt had given her since this morning.

While having an interview was a long way from being a columnist again, thanks to Aunt Rachel and her friend Vivian, she was a lot closer than she’d been yesterday.

Moreover, figuring out a strategy for the upcoming interview with the paper’s managing editor kept her from fretting about seeing Hunter again tonight.

Ali heard a deep male voice hum in tune with hers, and she turned toward the doorway. Leaning against the doorjamb of her aunt’s office, looking sexier than any man had a right to, stood the man she’d been trying not to think about all day.

He was early, she thought, taking in the slim black jeans and gray silk T-shirt. She wanted to run her hands over the ultrasmooth fabric of his shirt and feel the hard body beneath it.

“I could have used your help today over at my grandma’s old place,” he said.

Genuinely happy to see him, she smiled before she could stop herself and began climbing down the ladder. “Sorry, but Sandy already has dibs on me. I’m helping her install a new kitchen faucet tomorrow.”

He walked over to steady the ladder and she found herself dangerously close to him by the time her foot touched the bottom rung.

An easy grin spread over his face, his white smile contrasting against his smooth brown skin. She breathed in his shower-fresh scent and willed her knees not to go limp.

Ali cleared her throat. “So, how is that project coming along? You were redoing the kitchen, right?” Still her voice sounded unnaturally high, as if she’d taken a hit from a helium balloon.

Hunter released the sides of the ladder and took a step back, giving her some much-needed space. “No, the kitchen’s complete. I’m working on the dining room walls.”

Ali walked over to the wall switch. She’d already checked the motor on the new fan, but wanted to see the blades in action. She flicked on the switch, and they began to rotate.

“Feels cooler in here already,” Hunter said, looking up at it.

“Give me a moment to ditch this tool belt, and we can get started with your lesson,” she said. “But first I want to hear all about last night.”

Hunter’s brow creased. “Last night?”

Ali unbuckled her tool belt as she walked out of her aunt’s office. “Your big opera date? I hope it wasn’t that unmemorable.”

He followed her down the corridor. “Oh, it was great.”

“Did you get to show off your quickie opera crash course for Erica?”

His girlfriend’s name felt awkward on her lips, but Ali had said it on purpose. It reminded her Hunter was in a relationship. There was little chance Erica or any woman would let a man like him go.