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Her Red-Carpet Romance
Marie Ferrarella
MATCHMAKING MAMAS: Playing Cupid. Arranging dates. What are mothers for?Hollywood heart-throb and widower Lukkas Spader knows his women are just photo ops for the paparazzi. He's sworn off dating. In fact, he might have forgotten how! But the big-time movie producer needs a Gal Friday. And Yohanna desperately needs a job. So what if she's beautiful, and their relationship starts out like a typical "chick flick"? That doesn't mean they're going to fall in love….She's never felt the sparks between herself and the parade of potential husbands her mother's insisted she meet. So Yohanna Andrzejewski has given up on romance. But when she poses for the cameras with sexy, gorgeous Lukkas–trying to keep the gossip mongers at bay–she realizes that there's something in the air…call it Sparks. Bells. Magic. Because Lukkas and Yohanna may not be looking for love–but something–or someone–is making sure it finds them!
It reads like a Hollywood script!
Yohanna
I’m not looking for romance. I’d rather just focus on my career; it’s what I’m good at. Love?
Not so much.
Lukkas
It’s been years since I’ve dated—legitimately. Yes, the paparazzi have shot me with beautiful women, but they’re just photo ops. (shaking his head vehemently) I’m not looking for love. Not me! Not again!
Yohanna’s mum
I tell her all the time, “Get married!
It’ll solve all your problems!” (breathing exasperatedly) But does she listen? When is she going to learn that Mother knows best?
The Matchmaking Mamas
We haven’t met a bachelor or bachelorette we can’t match. (smiling sweetly into the camera) Today: single … Tomorrow: in love!
This is what the critics are saying: “Finding your soul mate has never been so much fun!”
Her Red-Carpet Romance
Marie Ferrarella
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author MARIE FERRARELLA has written more than two hundred books for Harlequin, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, marieferrarella.com (http://marieferrarella.com).
To
Mary-Theresa Hussey
in loving gratitude
for all the good years
Contents
Cover (#u4e24df91-d48b-5bdf-9373-6299a7d55ae8)
Introduction (#u50cad4a2-7afe-535e-ab3f-c582212bbaea)
Title Page (#uded49222-6991-5e8e-88ea-d52c88bea96c)
About the Author (#u99cdb24e-333a-5469-b825-79d80dcaf64f)
Dedication (#u63aeac67-b596-5034-891f-d9edf69ba20b)
Prologue (#ulink_bbb51f22-1741-5341-beb9-4e73a87c5ee7)
Chapter One (#ulink_099c851b-4b78-5b6c-aeb0-7fde12a4c784)
Chapter Two (#ulink_a5bf7b31-ddb5-5936-9fef-521c8e70ee91)
Chapter Three (#ulink_94f1098a-92d5-5fd8-b8fb-5456689547c4)
Chapter Four (#ulink_e1e4e2f7-8bb5-5135-bf02-de63eb3f6f72)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_adf1757d-294a-5d5f-a3ab-9fcce93d62f5)
Cecilia Parnell reached into her pocket to take out the key her client had given her, then stopped midway and pulled her hand out again.
The initial movement had been automatic. She had the keys to all of her clients’ homes. Ninety percent of her clients were at work when she and her cleaning crew arrived; the other 10 percent usually preferred to be out when their homes were rendered spotless from top to bottom.
A firm believer in boundaries and privacy, Cecilia made it a policy never to use the key when she knew her client would be home. And today Yohanna Andrzejewski was home. She knew that because the young woman had specifically requested to see her.
Cecilia assumed the request had something to do with some sort of dissatisfaction with the quality of the work her crew did. If so, this would be a first, since no one had ever registered any complaints, not in all the years that she had been in this business.
Pressing the doorbell, Cecilia took a step back from the condo door so that Yohanna could see her when she looked through the peephole.
But it was obvious that her client didn’t bother checking to see who was there. The door opened immediately, giving Cecilia the impression that the young woman was standing right behind the front door, waiting for her to arrive.
“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Parnell,” Yohanna said, closing the door behind her. She sounded breathless, as if she’d been running.
Or perhaps crying.
“Of course, dear—” Cecilia replied kindly.
She was about to say something else when she turned and really looked at the young woman for the first time. Yohanna, usually so bright and upbeat that she practically sparkled, not only looked solemn but almost drained of all color, as well. Cecilia stopped walking. The mother in her instantly kicked in.
“What’s wrong, dear?” she asked, concerned.
Yohanna took a deep breath and then let it out. It sounded almost like a mournful sigh. “I—I’m afraid that I have to let you go,” she murmured, appearing stricken and exceedingly uncomfortable.
For the life of her Cecilia couldn’t think of a single reason why she and her crew were being dismissed. She screened every one of her people very carefully before she hired them. Her daughter was a private investigator, so background checks were very easy to run. All of her employees had been with her for at least two years if not longer, and each one of them did excellent work.
Something else was going on.
“May I ask why?”
Yohanna’s eyes widened as she realized the natural implication of what she had just said. She was quick to correct the misunderstanding.
“Oh, no, it’s not anything that you or your crew have done. If anything, they’re even better than when you first started cleaning here. I’m really thrilled with the job you’ve been doing.”
Confusion creased Cecilia’s brow. “Then, I don’t understand. If you’re happy with our work, why are you letting us go?” The moment Cecilia asked the question, she saw the tears shining in the younger woman’s intense blue eyes. “Oh, darling, what’s wrong?” she repeated.
This time, not standing on any formality, Cecilia took the young woman into her arms and hugged her, offering her mute comfort as well as a shoulder to cry on.
Ordinarily, Yohanna kept her problems to herself. She didn’t like burdening other people, especially when there was nothing they could do to help or change the situation. But this time, she felt so overwhelmed, so helpless, not to mention betrayed, the words just came spilling out.
“I was laid off yesterday,” Yohanna told the sympathetic woman. “I can’t afford to pay you.”
It was obvious that uttering the words was excruciating for Yohanna.
Cecilia gently guided the young woman to the light gray sofa and sat with her.
“Don’t worry about paying me. You’ve been a wonderful client for four years. We’ll work something out. That’s not important now. Tell me exactly what happened,” Cecilia coaxed.
Yohanna took another deep breath, as if that could somehow shield her from the wave of pain that came with the words. Being laid off was a whole new experience for her and she felt awful.
“Mr. McGuire sold the company to Walters & Sons,” she told Cecilia, referring to the man who had owned the company where she had worked. “The deal went through two days ago, before any of us knew about it. Their head of Human Resources called me into her office yesterday morning and said that they wouldn’t be needing my services since they already had someone who could do my job.”
Cecilia could just imagine how hard that must have been for the young woman to hear. One moment the future looked bright and secure, the next there was nothing around her but chaos and upheavals.
“That’s simply awful,” Cecilia sympathized. “Let me make you some tea and you can tell me everything.” She rose from the sofa. “Did you know any of this was coming?” Cecilia asked as she walked into the kitchen.
Yohanna followed, looking, in Cecilia’s estimation, like a lost puppy trying to find its way home.
“No, I didn’t. None of us did,” she said, referring to some of the other people she worked with. “I went to work for the company the year before I graduated college. Nine years. I was there nine years,” she proclaimed. “McGuire’s was like home to me. More,” she emphasized, and then added in a quiet voice, “No one there berated me for not having a love life.”
Cecilia took a wild guess as to the source of the berating Yohanna was referring to. It wasn’t really much of a stretch. “Not like your mother does?”
Yohanna nodded and pressed her lips together, trying to get hold of herself. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she apologized, “but I just got off the phone with her.”
Admittedly, when she’d told her mother about being suddenly laid off, she’d been hoping for a positive suggestion. Or, at the very least, sympathy. She’d received neither. “My mother’s solution for everything is to get married.”
“She just wants to see you happy,” Cecilia told her as she filled the kettle with water from the tap.
“She just wants grandchildren,” Yohanna contradicted. “I don’t think she’d care if I married Godzilla as long as she got grandchildren out of it.”
An amused smile played on Cecilia’s lips. “The subsequent grandchildren from that union would be much too hairy for her liking,” she quipped. Placing the kettle on the stove, she switched on the burner beneath it.
“But the immediate problem right now is to get you back into the work force.” Cecilia had never been one to beat around the bush. That was for people like Maizie Sommers and Theresa Manetti, her two best friends since the third grade. They were far more delicate and eloquent in their approach to things. She had always been more of a blunt straight shooter. “What is it you do again, dear?”
“A little bit of everything and anything. Make sure that everything is running smoothly, keep track of appointments, meetings, suppliers. Make calls... In short, I guess you could call me an organizer. I take—took,” she corrected herself, “care of all the details and made sure that everything at the office was running smoothly.”
Cecilia nodded, the wheels in her head turning quickly. “I know people who know people who know people,” she said, making something vague sound positive. “Let me make a few calls. We’ll see if we can’t get you back in the game.”
In more ways than one, Cecilia thought. Wait until I tell the girls we might have another project on our hands. The mention of the young woman’s mother’s mindset had not gone unnoticed.
“You really think so?” Yohanna asked, brightening a little. “I’d be eternally grateful for anything you can do to help.”
Cecilia smiled at the young woman. “Leave it to me,” she promised confidently. Among all the people she and her friends currently knew—and that was a lot, given the nature of their businesses—there had to be someone who could use a sharp young go-getter like Yohanna.
Just then, the kettle emitted a high-pitched whistle. The tea was brewed.
“Ah, I believe it’s playing our song,” Cecilia said cheerfully, crossing back to the stove. In her head she was already calling Maizie and Theresa. They were going to want to hear all about Yohanna and her present predicament. “Everything’s going to be just fine, dear,” she promised, filling the teacup to the brim. “You just wait and see.”
“I hope so,” Yohanna murmured. But at the present moment she was having trouble mustering enthusiasm.
Chapter One (#ulink_7d14bb61-0e9a-5d76-99d3-b983dcba171a)
“You know, for a man who currently has the number one movie at the box office for the past three weeks, you really don’t look very happy,” Theresa Manetti commented to her client as she paused for a moment to stand by Lukkas Spader.
In the catering business for more than twelve years now, Theresa quickly surveyed the large room where she was presently catering the popular producer’s impromptu party, a last-minute send-off that he was throwing for his departing assistant, Janice Brooks.
Tall, with broad shoulders and a broader smile—a smile that was conspicuously absent at the moment, Theresa noted—the thirty-six-year-old wunderkind, as those in higher places tended to dub him, shrugged.
“I can’t rest on my laurels, Theresa. In this cutthroat business, you’re only as good as your next project.”
Theresa narrowed her eyes as she studied the young man. That wasn’t at the heart of his problem. She could tell by the lost look in his eyes.
