The Weekend Proposition Read online

  The Weekend Proposition

  By Ella Jade

  Copyright © 2013, Ella Jade

  Cover Artist: Fantasia Frog Designs

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  www.authorellajade.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Back Cover Copy

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  The Weekend Surprise

  About the Author

  Back Cover Copy

  One weekend—no strings, no expectations, and no commitments. On Sunday afternoon it all ends, or does it?

  No-nonsense businessman Spencer Cannon has a dilemma. He’s headed to Connecticut for the weekend to attend his cousin’s elaborate wedding. His whole family will be there in addition to his obsessed ex-girlfriend Ava. According to Spencer’s brother, Ava has been telling her friends she’s planning a magical reunion with her favorite ex-boyfriend. Spencer’s not in the mood to deal with her, but he can’t miss the wedding. He needs a plan.

  Struggling Brooklyn waitress and aspiring graphic designer Dakota Vercelli has fallen on hard times. College debts, pending eviction, and her sick mother are taking a toll on her. A chance encounter with Mr. Cannon, CEO of Cannon and Carrington Advertising, leads to a proposition that may be just the thing to solve both of their problems. Spencer’s offer—spend four days with him during the wedding festivities and keep his ex off his trail. In return, he’ll compensate her generously for her time. He needs a weekend girlfriend, and Dakota needs the cash.

  It was just supposed to be a business deal, but after sharing a room, kissing under the stars, and attending a wedding, their attraction is undeniable. Will the illusion end when the weekend is over or is the proposition just the beginning?

  Chapter 1

  Spencer Cannon flipped through the spreadsheets on his desk while his brother’s voice blared out of the speaker phone. As he typed in the targeted numbers for the upcoming campaign he tried to drown out the one-sided conversation.

  “Spencer,” Tyler said. “Are you listening?”

  “I’m trying to work,” Spencer responded. “Unlike some people.”

  “It’s after seven. You don’t need to be at the office.”

  “If I don’t get this finished, who will?” He glanced out the huge window overlooking the Manhattan skyline. “All anyone in this family wants to do is talk about the wedding of the century.”

  On Saturday, their cousin, Tara, would marry the governor’s son. Everyone was expected to report to Connecticut on Wednesday evening to start the festivities.

  “What’s wrong with you? It’s four days of drinking, golfing, partying, and screwing. Of course it’s going to be the event of the century.”

  Spencer wished he shared his brother’s enthusiasm.

  “I can’t wait to get there,” Tyler said.

  “I didn’t even think you were bringing a date. Who exactly will you be screwing?” He rolled his eyes as he entered the new set of numbers into the computer. If he was expected to be in Connecticut in two days, he needed to get these numbers right. The Bradford account had been nothing but a headache for him since they signed with the agency.

  “Tara has a lot of hot bridesmaids, including the groom’s sister. Have you seen her? She’s incredible and single.”

  “Good luck with that.” Tyler had the finesse of a freight train. No way would he land the governor’s daughter.

  “You do know Ava is a bridesmaid and she sweats you every chance she gets, so you’ll be pretty busy yourself this weekend.”

  “I don’t think so. Ava and I have been over for months.”

  Ava Carrington had been a mistake from the very first date. Unfortunately, her grandfather owned half of the ad agency where Spencer was CEO. Cannon and Carrington Advertising had been in business for forty years. When Spencer’s grandfather retired, he left the company in Spencer’s hands, but the old man and his partner still had a strong say in everything that went on. Pierce Carrington was as vocal as Jack Cannon, and both had hoped that Ava and Spencer would marry, ensuring a long, lasting union between the families.

  “I don’t think she knows that,” Tyler said. “She’s been all over social media tweeting and updating her Facebook status about her long weekend plans with her favorite ex. She thinks the wedding will inspire you.”

  “Shit! I don’t need this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How many ways do I have to tell her it’s over?”

  “Maybe if you didn’t sleep with her every time she came knocking on the penthouse door she’d get the message.”

  Spencer could admit he’d made several mistakes when it came to Ava. They were on-again, off-again for over four years. Once she started talking diamonds, weddings, and babies he sobered up real fast. She was not the woman he wanted to spend forever with. It was better to end things than to forge forward and wind up in divorce court a few years later. That would have been messy for both the Cannons and the Carringtons. The agency didn’t need that kind of drama either.

  “I haven’t been with her in five months. When I ended it last time I told her I meant it. She cried about how I wasted years of her life and she was almost thirty and not married. I haven’t heard from her since.”

  “You have four nights to avoid her. How are you going to keep her from crawling into your bed this weekend?” Tyler snickered. “You don’t have that much resolve. You’ve been working nonstop for months. When was the last time you had any action anyway?”

  “None of your business.” Five months ago. “Between Ava, Grandfather, and Pierce Carrington I won’t get a moment’s peace this weekend. You know how Grandfather gets when we attend weddings.”

  “Spencer, my boy.” Tyler did his best impression of their grandfather. “You’re nearing thirty, you know. Don’t you think it’s time to settle down? With a Carrington?”

  “Do you think I can get out of this?” The throbbing pain in Spencer’s right temple indicated a tension headache approaching.

  “You can’t miss Tara’s wedding. She would be devastated.”

  “You’re right.” Spencer sighed. “I’ll have to suck it up. I’ll have to be firm.”

  “Yeah, because that always works with Ava.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Bring a date,” his brother said. “Then all of them will have to leave you alone.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “It’s a good idea.”

  “Where am I supposed to find a date on such short notice?” Spencer had been busy playing around with Ava over the years. When they weren’t together he threw himself into his work. He had no last minute prospects, or at least not any he would consider
bringing to a family function.

  “You’re a rich, eligible bachelor who lives in Manhattan and runs one of the largest advertising companies in the city. Hire an escort.”

  “Goodbye, asshat. I have work to do if I’m going to make this wedding. Don’t forget to approve those storyboards before you leave on Wednesday.”

  “Good luck with finding your date, Prince Charming.”

  “Whatever.” Spencer ended the call.

  An escort service? Really?

  When he glanced at his watch he realized he had a long night ahead of him. Standing from his desk he stretched out his back and headed to his private kitchen to put on a fresh pot of coffee. As he walked down the hall, he thought about the dreaded upcoming weekend. He’d known Ava would be there, but he’d hoped she would bring a date who would keep her occupied. Their last breakup had been messy, but he assumed she had moved on when she hadn’t contacted him like she normally did after they called it quits. Now that she’d made her intentions known on social media, she would be a woman on a mission. She’d be all over him this weekend.

  A few years ago, that wouldn’t have been a bad thing. When they were younger, the game was fun. She’d get mad because he wasn’t attentive enough and pretend to sulk. He’d buy her flowers and they’d hop in the sack. Nothing was at stake back then. They both knew what they were doing wasn’t about commitment. Ava changed the terms of their unspoken contract when she demanded he set a date. Spencer ended the game.

  Pushing open the door to his lounge, he stopped, stunned over a woman standing by the sink. She wasn’t facing him, but her long black hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her slim back caught his attention. She wore a thin, gray t-shirt and a pair of form fitting dark yoga pants that hugged her shapely bottom.

  Where did you come from?

  “Ma, please don’t cry.”

  Spencer heard the panic in this young woman’s voice. It unsettled him to hear her distress but he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but this was his private space and he had no idea who she was or what she was doing in the building.

  “We won’t get evicted. I’ll find a way to get the rent money.”

  He stepped into the room and closed the door, hoping she’d hear him, but she continued to speak in a loud, quick tone as she waved her hands in a frantic manner.

  “I have to go. Please don’t worry. I get paid Friday. We’ll use that.” She paused and shook her head. “We won’t starve. I’ll grab some extra shifts at the diner.”

  He picked up on her Brooklyn accent as it thickened with the rise of her anxiety.

  When she turned just an inch or so, he got a better look at her profile. Her olive skin complimented her long dark hair. Her petite frame appeared tone. She ran her fingers through her locks as she shifted her feet. Something inside Spencer stirred. He wanted to reach out and place his hand on her shoulder and tell her not to worry, he’d fix all of her problems.

  Who is she?

  “I have to get to work. Ma, don’t worry. I’ll figure it out. I love you too.” Letting out a slow breath, she ended the call. She put her head down almost in defeat. “What am I gonna do?” she mumbled to herself.

  Spencer cleared his throat.

  “Oh!” She jumped at the sound, dropping her cell as she turned toward him. “Christ, you scared the shit—” She stopped and looked at him, the horror evident on her face. “Mr. Cannon, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were still in the building.”

  “I’m working late.” He bent down and picked up her phone. “I thought I’d make a pot of coffee. Do I know you?”

  “No, I’m with the cleaning company.”

  “Looks like it’s still in one piece.” He handed her the older version of a cell, one he hadn’t seen in a while.

  “Thanks.” She took it from him.

  “I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. I don’t want to hold you up.” He pointed to the coffee pot. “I need fuel to get through a late night.”

  “It’s your building. I’ll get out of your way.” She moved toward the door but he wasn’t ready for her to leave.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Coda.” She lifted her hair off her neck and secured it with the band she had around her wrist. “I better get started. Sorry about being in here. I’ll come back and clean the kitchen when you’re done.”

  “Nice meeting you, Coda.”

  “You too, Mr. Cannon.” He couldn’t help but linger on her full, pink lips when she gave him a small smile. “Don’t work too late.”

  When she turned to leave, he spied the tiny heart tattoo at the nape of her neck. He leaned against the counter and watched as she left the room. How had he managed to miss her? He wondered when she had started working there. He’d be paying a visit to human resources tomorrow morning to find out exactly who Coda from Brooklyn was.

  AS CODA FILLED THE glasses with soda, she looked over the schedule pinned to the board in the kitchen of the diner. There weren’t any extra shifts to be had that weekend. Between the days she worked at the restaurant and the nights she spent cleaning the ad agency, she barely brought in enough to cover expenses. When she graduated college last spring, she’d hoped to have had a full-time job by now. But with the economy being what it was, jobs were scarce. Her bills and loans quickly added up, and she had a hard time making payments. Ever since her mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and couldn’t work as often as she used to, things had gone from bad to worse.

  “Hey, Coda,” Lauren, the hostess said. “There’s a really hot guy out there asking for you. He insisted on sitting at one of your tables. He looks like he stepped out of the pages of GQ or something.”

  “Yeah, right.” She snickered. “If only.”

  “I’m serious. His friggin’ watch cost more than my car.” She motioned for Coda to look through the window that overlooked the counter. “Right there. See?”

  “What the hell is he doing here?” she mumbled.

  Lauren took the tray of drinks from Coda. “I’ll deliver these.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Who’s the guy?”

  “Spencer Cannon. I work over at his place at night. I don’t know why he’s looking for me.”

  “Go find out.”

  “I intend to.”

  She walked out of the kitchen and over to where Cannon stood. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the small, greasy diner. His well-tailored, black suit hung perfectly from his body. He removed his jacket and draped it on the back of his chair while he waited for her. His gray tie accentuated his ice-blue eyes. Despite the windy autumn day, not a particle of his thick, dark hair seemed out of place. Lauren’s assessment of him was spot on. He did look like a sophisticated cover model.

  “Mr. Cannon,” she said as she approached his table. “What brings you here?”

  “Ms. Vercelli.” He pulled out a chair for her. “Please, join me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” He tapped the table with his long fingers.

  “I’m working.” She looked around as her lunch customers took in Cannon. Men like him didn’t frequent dives like this. He’d be the talk of the diner for weeks.

  He glanced over at Tony, the owner, and waved. “I asked your boss for a few minutes of your time, so please, have a seat.”

  She debated whether to do as he asked. What could he possibly want from her? If she screwed something up while cleaning his office building she seriously doubted the head guy would deal with that.

  “Please.”

  “For a few minutes.” She sat down because he had piqued her curiosity and she couldn’t afford to lose the cleaning gig for aggravating the owner of the building.

  “Thank you.” He took a seat and stared at her for a few moments.

  His intense gaze unnerved her. He made her feel like he was shopping, looking for flaws in the merchandise he was about to purchase.

  “I’m guessing you’re not here for the grilled cheese. What b
rings you to Brooklyn?”

  “I’ve never had grilled cheese before but maybe I’ll try it, Dakota.” Obviously he had checked her file to use her given name.

  “Everyone calls me Coda, Mr. Cannon.”

  “Why don’t you call me Spencer?”

  “Okay, Spencer, what can I do for you?”

  “A ‘to the point’ kind of girl. I like that.” The right side of his lips rose slightly, creating a sexy, crooked smile. “I’m a businessman and I need something.”

  From me?

  “I think you may benefit from my offer.” He continued to stare directly into her eyes causing her to cower from the influence she found there. She’d never backed away from a guy before but there was something different about him.

  “What makes you think that? You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I overheard your conversation with your mother last night.” He stopped for a second, but before she could open her mouth to protest, he continued. “You were in my private kitchen. I did try to make my presence known but you didn’t hear me.”

  “How much did you hear?” She fidgeted with her hands, trying hard to break the Italian habit of using them when she talked. She had a tendency to get loud when she felt stressed. The conversation with her mother had caused her some anxiety.

  “Enough to know you’re in need of financial assistance.”

  “I’ll figure it out. I always do.” She didn’t like discussing her finances, or lack thereof, with a stranger. She didn’t care how rich and good-looking he was. It was none of his business.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “A proposition?” What could he possibly have to offer her?

  “I have to attend my cousin’s wedding this weekend. Actually, I have to leave tomorrow afternoon. I don’t want to go alone for reasons I don’t wish to discuss right now. I need someone to accompany me. I’m offering that to you.”

  “And you think I’m ‘to the point’?”

  He smiled but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t stand the silence. She wanted to figure out his game. There had to be some sort of catch.