open. Sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing her in warmth. She pulled the blanket over her shoulder and snuggled deeper into the cocoon of the sunâs rays.
Beep. One new message.
She opened her eyes and found the computer lying sideways on the floor. Anger surged through her. Sheâd done it again. Screwed up another opportunity. What is wrong with me? She sat up, pulled the computer onto her lap, and checked her mail. âWell, you donât have to get nasty.â It was only an hour past the deadline. She looked for the manuscript sheâd been working on. How many chapters had she actually gotten through? Twelve. Hmmm . . . ah, no one will get this far into the book anyway. She saved the work sheâd done and sent the manuscript back with an apology for being late. Good enough. Except it wasnât.
Sheâd messed up again. She shoved her fingers into her hair and squeezed. Just once she wanted to finish something she started . . . the right way. An idea niggled at the back of her brain. She looked at the clock and bit her lip. Oh well, heâll just have to get up.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
âThis better be important.â The gruff, scratchy voice affirmed her fears. Heâd definitely been sleeping.
âWould I wake you at nine in the morning if it wasnât?â
She could hear his smile over the line. âHey, honey. Whatâs up?â
âListen, George, could I ask you a favor? Itâs really important.â
Sheets rustled over the line and she figured George was sitting up in bed. âOf course you can.â
She ran to the corner, grabbed her bag, and rifled through it. Aha . . . found it. Yes. She held her breath. Her whole idea hinged on this. âI need to find out if the money for the New Yearâs Eve party was credited back to the Harrisesâ credit card. If I give you the number, can you find out?â She paused. âWithout anyone knowing about it?â She held her breath.
âActually, I already know it was. I did it immediately after I called you. Why? What are you up to, girlfriend?â
Olivia laughed. âDo you know anyone I could get at this late date to cater a New Yearâs Eve party?â
âWhere are you having it?â
âWell, Iâm not exactly sure yet, but I am having it. Do you know anyone?â She waited, but George didnât say anything. âPlease, George, itâs really important to me.â
He sighed. âIâll do it for you, hon.â
Her heart rate ratcheted up. âAre you serious?â
âSure. Iâm off the week between Christmas and New Yearâs, so Iâll have plenty of time to prepare.â
âWhat about New Yearâs Eve? Donât you have plans?â
âNah. Chip has to go to some function with the senator, and after we were just going to spend a quiet night at home. He wonât mind if I do this.â
Olivia huffed out a breath.
âHe feels bad, Olivia. He never meant to hurt you, but his father . . . well, you know.â
She sighed, relenting. âI do know, George.â
âHeâs so thankful you agreed not to say anything.â
Olivia picked at a loose button on the front of her bag. âI would never say anything. You know that. I love you both. Iâm sorry things with Chip and me ended the way they did, and it hurt that he lied to me . . . but I do understand.â
âI know you do, and so does Chip.â
âIâll tell you what.â She took a deep breath. âIf Chip finishes up with his obligations, tell him to come to the party. Okay?â
âSure, Olivia. Thank you.â
âNo problem.â She shoved the bag aside and pulled out the computer.
âNow, what do you want to have for dinner?â
She laughed, tension flowing from her body as she scrolled through the list of businesses in Times Square. âYou decide, but make