Mad for you in Madrid (Building Love Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  MAD FOR YOU IN MADRID

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  MAD FOR YOU IN MADRID

  Building Love Series Book Three

  STACY HOFF

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  MAD FOR YOU IN MADRID

  Copyright©2018

  STACY HOFF

  Cover Design by Leah Kaye Suttle

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in 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 publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-787-9

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Books by Stacy Hoff:

  Lawfully Yours

  Desire in the Arctic

  Desire in the Everglades

  Jockeying For You

  ~ ~ ~

  Building Love Series

  Betting on Love in Vegas

  Hotter than the Caribbean

  Mad For You In Madrid

  To my husband Eyal

  and sons, Aaron and Ryan,

  for making our trip to Madrid

  one of the best times I’ve ever had.

  Acknowledgments

  My heartfelt thanks to Deborah Gilbert for publishing my seventh Soul Mate Publishing, Inc., novel. I am deeply grateful for the support.

  A wholehearted thank you also goes to Marilyn Werner and Amina Connelly for being my (tireless) beta readers, and to Daniel Spiegel for building and maintaining my wonderful website (www.stacyhoff.com).

  Lastly, a big thank you goes out to authors Belle Ami and Cari Davis for their kind (and patient) help teaching me about the game of craps. I hope one day to have the guts to actually play.

  Chapter 1

  Lori Cayne smoothed out the skirt of her borrowed satin gown and surveyed the party scene with a quiet longing. Las Vegas’s most prestigious charity event, the Orland Foundation’s annual fundraising gala, attracted the world’s wealthiest people. The mega money, however, wasn’t what intrigued her. After all, her mother—and corporate boss—Janet Cayne, CEO of Cayne Corporate Communications, Inc., was quite wealthy too. No, what struck Lori to the core was the partygoers’ genuine joy.

  Their reactions were not surprising. The atmosphere was rich with bright lights, savory smells, and musical sounds. The décor was breathtaking, the ballroom of the Grande Belle Casino decked out in purple and gold. Couples crowded the dance floor, swaying to the music of a jazz band. Not far from the stage, blackjack tables and roulette wheels dotted the amethyst-colored carpet like an archipelago in the sea. The Foundation certainly knew how to put on a party.

  Despite Lori’s strong desire to join in the revelry, there was no way was she going to chase after people in this elite crowd. She wasn’t a corporate attack dog, obeying her mother’s command to charge at the golden geese. Lori was her own person. Mostly. Breaking free was a process in the works. Unfortunately, the metaphorical leash around Lori’s neck was firmly intact.

  “Lori, why aren’t you embracing this opportunity?” her mother asked from the barstool next to her. “Pursuing new business deals will be way more fun if you dance and drink.”

  Lori pasted an ear-stretching smile on her face before swiveling toward her mother. “I’m embracing.” Actually, I’m bracing. Close enough.

  “Then jump in there,” her mother said for the umpteenth time. She made a sweeping gesture toward the throngs of people, jiggling the gold bangle bracelet that matched the color of her gown. “Lori, succeeding in business means learning how to hustle.”

  “Mom, shhh! People are going to hear you. This is a charity event, not an industry convention. People will think you’re only here to make money.”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “Everybody wants to make money. Stop making the process sound dirty. Even charities are obsessed with cash. Why do you think fundraising events exist in the first place?”

  Lori swallowed her rebuttal. Her mother’s words, although harsh, were right.

  “Look around you,” Mom said. “The proof is in the plush.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “I’m not joking. How much do you think the Foundation paid to host this event?”

  Calculating budgets for special events was a familiar process to every Cayne Corporate Communications, Inc., employee. This special ability was one of the many reasons why her mother’s public relations firm was such a success. “Roughly eighty grand,” Lori replied, “not including the band. Realistically though, it’s probably much lower. I’m sure the hotel probably discounted the food, drink, and room rental.”

  “Good job, honey.” Her mother beamed. “Of course, you see my point.”

  “I get it. But how much money the Foundation spent doesn’t really matter. The number of donors attending this event is staggering. Considering the high ticket price, and the income the silent auction will generate, tonight’s fundraiser should rake in well over a million dollars. Maybe more.”

  Her mother clasped her hands in glee. “Excellent. I’m thrilled a large crowd of rich and successful people are in attendance.”

  Lori felt her lips jerk into an unexpected smile. Her mother wasn’t usually this charitable—either in nature or donations. See? The night is getting better already. I was worried about nothing. “You’re right, Mom. Who wouldn’t want to have all this money raised for learning disabled children?”

  Her mother physically waved away Lori’s words with her gold-bangled wrist. �
��No, I’m saying that tonight’s attendance is excellent because we have a room filled with potential new clients.”

  Lori’s fledgling smile shattered. Her face fell harder than a glass plate on concrete. “What? You’re not happy the Foundation is going to make money? Why not? The income from this year’s charity event will fund after-school programs for children who need special help learning.”

  “Can we stop talking about contributions to the Orland Charitable Foundation? Write them another check if you need to get charity out of your system. I’m here to focus on business, and so should you.”

  Lori breathed deeply. During the workday she expected hard-edged opinions from her mother. At night, not so much. “I already cut the Foundation a check. It was the most I can afford.” She bit her lip. You could pay me better. I’m lucky I can pay rent and my cell phone data plan.

  Getting her own apartment, albeit an overpriced, microscopic studio in downtown San Francisco, had been the best decision Lori ever made. Regardless of the fact her old bedroom in the Sausalito mansion was quadruple the size and free of charge. “Mom, when I’m your employee, I have to do what you say. I want to be off-duty. Starting now. I’m going to walk around and enjoy myself.”

  “That’s the problem with you,” her mother said. “You’re not driven for success. This event is a big deal. You need to network with these hotshots. Think of them as ripe fruit ready to be picked.”

  “Fruit? Seriously?”

  “Are you mocking me?”

  “No. Orange you glad I’ll be introducing myself?”

  “Hilarious,” her mother deadpanned. “Can you act the way a twenty-four-year-old should? You know very well what I meant.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Let me spell this out for you. You are not off-duty. It’s high time for you to go mingle. Where are your business cards?”

  I passive-aggressively left them home. “I forgot them.”

  Her mother sighed and opened a gold Hermeś clutch purse almost as petite as her tiny body. Then she extracted a stack of business cards and thrust them at Lori. The force of the thrust swayed her mother’s pin-straight bob, a miracle given the amount of hairspray shellacked. “Thank Heaven I packed extras of my card. This is a great opportunity for you to bring in business. If you want to move up in my company, you have to earn your stripes. Have you noticed that you are the only employee who got this chance? This is your shot to impress me.”

  “Um, thanks. But won’t people think handing out business cards is uncouth?” Lori asked, already knowing the answer.

  Her mother jabbed the air with a stack of cream-colored, blue-ink-embossed business cards. “No, I don’t. I’ve made a mint of money doing public relations work. You’re not going to tell me how to handle myself, are you?”

  “I’m not trying to tell you anything,” Lori defended, desperately channeling her inner Zen goddess. “I’m saying tonight’s event is not supposed to be about business. It’s strictly for charity. You don’t make money from it. You spend money on it.”

  “I contributed plenty for my ticket. For your ticket, too. The Foundation won’t be hurting. Why should my business?” Her mother tucked the cards into Lori’s hand. “You look beautiful tonight. Go on and seize this fantastic opportunity. Keep your guard up, and your business cards out.” The words were barely out before she abruptly swiveled her barstool in the opposite direction. Her mother now faced a distinguished-looking man of roughly the same age as herself.

  “Hello, I’m Janet Cayne,” she said, offering her hand to the man seated next to her. “And who might you be?”

  The man’s startled expression instantly faded into a smile. In seconds, the two were talking and laughing. A minute later, a cream-colored business card was tucked into his hand.

  Lori shrugged. Who knew how her mother did it? Give the woman ten seconds in a room and she owns the place. A Venus fly trap couldn’t ensnare faster. Lori took her cue to leave. She shoved the stack of business cards into her purse, grabbed her bay breeze cocktail from the countertop, and slipped off the barstool.

  Lori carried the brightly colored drink around the ballroom, observing everything at a leisurely pace. She wandered aimlessly, her destination nothing more than a night of fun and independence.

  All the men wore tuxedos. The women donned silk or satin gowns. Most people spent their time at the gaming tables. The bets they placed would cause the Foundation to hit the jackpot. Tonight’s profit would go to charity. The guests’ elegant appearance made them winners, too, no matter what their outcome at the tables.

  Lori peeked down at the strapless fuchsia gown Mom had loaned her. Admittedly, she did look beautiful tonight. The designer-label creation flattered her tiny frame the same way it graced her mother’s petite body. Her hair and makeup were equally flawless because her mother had paid for twin appointments at Le Grande Belle Hotel and Casino’s salon. Three beauticians worked on Lori for well over an hour. A small entourage, considering her mother had four. Lori’s hairdresser had arranged long brunette locks into an upswept do. Unseen bobby pins held the design tight. The cosmetologist applied smoky black color around her brown eyes. The quality of the team’s work was excellent. I wish I looked a fraction as good every day.

  Her wardrobe’s piece de resistance was the gold and diamond choker adorning her neck. Another loan from Mom, of course. Tiny gold strands wrapped around five diamonds, each a carat in size. The necklace was a real show stopper. For the twenty-thousand-dollar price tag, it could hardly be anything else.

  Mom knew the art of public relations work was making people believe a message. Regardless of whether the communication was factually accurate. Lori couldn’t help but wonder, was her perfect image tonight also a misrepresentation?

  She continued to wander around the event, mesmerized by the scene before her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a man smiling broadly at her while she passed by. He grinned large enough to trigger an elbowing in the ribs from the woman standing next to him. Cheeks burning, Lori quickened her pace.

  She passed the silent auction tables, slowing down to read the description cards for the numerous displays. The auction tables provided a wonderful distraction. Endless showcases of high-end jewelry, notable pieces of art, and trips to remarkable destinations around the world. Of course, these potential purchases were just a dream. At twenty-four, her ability to write hefty checks was as distant as living on Mars. The salary of an entry-level public relations associate was not nearly enough to drop ten-thousand dollars for a “free” week’s stay at an Orland Premier property.

  Orland Premier Properties, Inc., was Exhibit A of the type of clients Janet Cayne could woo. More impressive, her mother performed each public relations job spectacularly well. In fact, the Orlands were so happy with her mother’s publicity for their new large-scale resort they paid the company a bonus. Mom, rather than rest on her laurels, became more determined than ever to get more clients. Including at tonight’s event.

  Lori had different ideas how to spend the evening. Discreetly reaching into her purse, she grabbed the pile of business cards and dumped them into a metal trashcan. The cards tumbled into the empty can with a loud thump. Lori’s mouth twitched in satisfaction. She strutted away without a backward glance, her biggest gambling win for the night having just been accomplished.

  Given the amount of business cards her mother ordered every month, the disposal wasn’t so bad. The print shop down the street from Cayne’s offices profited nicely from the constant re-ordering. Mom believed in getting the company’s messages out, day after day. No message could possibly be loud enough or frequent enough. Lori’s personalized business cards, on the other hand, collected a thick layer of dust.

  It was frustrating to have an opposite personality from her mother. They were as far apart as DNA would allow. After working nonstop for three months on the Orland project,
time away from Mom was more important than ever. Maybe I can convince Mom to let me take a well-earned vacation. Even if all I can afford to do is sit outside my apartment building on the front stoop.

  Unfortunately, if her mother kept handing out business cards, Cayne Corporate Communications, Inc., would soon land their next big client, plunging Lori into more work. Probably before the night was through. Lori’s mind clouded with a nightmarish vision of herself in her work cubicle. Iron bars surrounding the orange canvas.

  The sound of laughter floated through the air. Lori’s eyes traveled to a group of people standing around a gaming table. Joining them was tempting, like a big box of chocolates that beckoned. Yet shyness was trickier to navigate than the Straights of Gibraltar. From the time she was three years old, she would not join unknown youngsters in a sandbox. Over the years, she managed to improve. Open up. Reach out. Starting conversations with strangers, however, would never be on her list of favorites.

  A glass or two of liquid courage might help to calm down. Her first drink of the night was the bay breeze in her hands. If that didn’t do the trick, she’d order another. And if that too failed, she’d find an excuse to go back to her hotel room.

  Sipping the brightly colored beverage while she walked, she gave herself a pep talk. I can do this. I can be brave. I can be daring. The mental mantra worked, and she shifted her focus onto the scene around her.

  A large crowd surrounding one gaming table caught her eye. Lori edged her way closer. People cheered as an African-American woman dressed in a turquoise gown blew into her cupped hands. She shook her hands dramatically before releasing the dice. Lori couldn’t see the exact roll because the crowd blocked her view. The crowd shouted approval. The lady in turquoise walked off wearing a cat-eating-the-canary smile. She left arm-in-arm with a man holding a large pile of casino chips. The colorful discs almost spilled out of his hands.