Pacified, at least for the moment, George dipped his head to sign the paperwork.
Kate turned to Allie. “How about you, any special requests?”
“Me?” Allie pressed her hand to her chest. “No. No, I’m fine.” She stepped closer to Kate and lowered her voice. “Actually, I was wondering if wehaveto stay at the hotel.”
“Is there a problem?”
“It’s just …” How could she explain this? “We’re not a couple and I don’t even know him—not really. It’s a bit uncomfortable to think of sharing a room …” She hadn’t made the arrangements and the contest page only mentioned one room at the Ritz.
Kate moved her iPad into the crook of her arm. “If you don’t know him, how are you two here together?”
“It’s kind of a long story.” Allie filled her in as quickly as possible, hoping their conversation stayed private as George was nearing the end of his stack of papers. She wrapped up with, “… he kind of made a pass at me in the limo.”
Kate held up a hand. “Say no more.” She tapped her screen. “So he was the one who donated the funds?”
“Yes. I’m sorry to even ask.”
“I’ll have to talk to my boss, but we’ll figure something out.” “I don’t want to cause a problem. I could always sleep in the bathtub if they have an extra blanket.” It wouldn’t be the first time. She used to lock herself in the bathroom as a kid because the door muffled her dad’s angry words. Of course, that was before he thought she was old enough to be a target.
Kate stared for a moment. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. We want this to be a good experience for both of you.”
George straightened up and flexed his hand, as if initialing twenty-three sheets of paper would cause a cramp.
Kate flashed a set of perfect teeth. “With that in mind, we have a small makeover crew.”
“What could you possibly need to make over on this?” George flexed his pecks, making them bounce like chipmunks in a burlap bag. Allie squeaked as she tried not to laugh.
Kate gave him a wide berth. “Every star has to go through makeup before they go on set. And you’re about to get the full star treatment.” “Sweet.” George bobbed his head.
Allie twisted her hair between her fingers. She hoped this makeover didn’t include scissors; she’d just fallen in love with her hair again.
Mark stopped at a crosswalk on Peachtree Avenue for a woman with a heavy purse. She waved a thank-you and he lifted his fingers off the steering wheel in return. Today was a beautiful Atlanta day. The kind of day he’d like to spend watching a baseball game where the sun baked the top of his head and iced lemonades burned the back of his throat. There was that sense that your team was going to win hanging in the air. He couldn’t explain why he felt that way, because the Braves’ designated hitter was joining them for lunch. But he let the feeling carry him along.
“Anthony just texted to say that he and Leticia are going to be a little late.” Beau dropped his phone in his lap.
“Did he send an emoji?” asked Mark.
“A fist bump.”
“Dang it—he never sends me emojis.”
“You overuse them.”
“What?”
Beau retrieved his phone and read Mark’s latest text. “Hey Beau. Hand waving. Want to ride together this afternoon? Smiley face.” He dropped his phone and raised an eyebrow. “We’re taking you out—cold turkey.”
Mark chuckled. “I had Chloe type while I was driving her to school this morning.”
“How’d you end up with her on a Thursday?”
Mark bit down on the curse words erupting in his head. “Her mom needed a babysitter.”
“The personal trainer?” Beau guessed.
Mark cleared his throat. While he had no romantic feelings left for Jasmine, her escapades raked against his skin. Mostly because she promoted them heavily on Instagram. One day, Chloe was going to see those photos. “I thinkthisguy’s a bodybuilder.”
“He’s big, huh?”
