Page 3 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

Chapter Two

Hartford Parker helped Gia navigate the stairs in her high heels by holding her sturdily by the elbow. The early spring night air was chilly, and he felt her shiver beneath his touch. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in months and couldn’t help but admire the way her hips swayed as she walked ahead of him across the black asphalt. The streetlights illuminated the parking lot, the moonlight blotted by the cloudy sky.

He had been looking forward to Mitch’s birthday celebration at the club, especially knowing there were a couple guys from some prestigious brokerage firms attending. What better way to bend a colleague’s ear and do a little networking than after a couple rounds of drinks? It had been eight months since Hart was let go from his lucrative job in DC. He had moved back to Atlanta and still hadn’t landed, living off his severance and house-sitting for his sister. Losing his job at one of the top firms in the country after a scandalous encounter with a client’s daughter at a party was probably the worst thing he had ever endured. Luckily for him, he had been given a generous severance package—a testament to the millions of dollars he had procured for the company over the five years he worked for them. Unfortunately, his indiscretion was the talk of the town for several embarrassing months, causing him to lie low until he felt it was time to start putting his career back together. To his disappointment, the two guys he had his eye on at the party were more interested in getting shit-faced than talking business. At least he got their cards and a handshake promise to meet for lunch in the near future. He was anxious to turn the page and finally put the past behind him. The climax of the evening was helping a beautiful damsel in distress—well, distress was a stretch because she could obviously hold her own.

“This is me,” Gia said, bringing him out of his thoughts. She was standing next to a well-worn sedan, a shade lighter than her blue eyes. “I got it from here.”

“Cool.” Hart shifted uncomfortably in the night air, not sure how to ask for her phone number after the fiasco in the club. In addition to lying low from his business colleagues, he had also sworn off women as a self-induced punishment. But there was something about Gia that drew him in, and he wanted to get to know her. Perhaps it was time to free himself from his jail.

When she first entered the private dining room in her Marilyn Monroe get-up, he had to admit, he felt sorry for her. He never understood why a beautiful girl would stoop to dancing or strip for money. After seeing her act and how professional she was, he was curious and had questions. There was nothing sleazy or raunchy about Gia. She was a character playing a part and did a damn good job! Her beautiful legs went on for days, and her delicious curves were perfection. Her eyes—her eyes were another story. He had never seen such intense eyes that color blue before. There was a story behind those eyes, and he was determined to learn more.

“You done for the night or are you heading home?”

She threw her props into the back seat of the vehicle and turned to him, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms. “This was my only gig tonight, thank God. I have to be up early for a class in the morning,” she replied, matter-of-factly.

“Oh?” he replied, surprised. “You’re a student?” He silently chastised himself for his stereotypical view of her Marilyn get-up, relieved she was probably only doing this for extra money to put herself through school.

She paused, her perfect brow raised slightly. “No. I’m the teacher.”

His eyes widened in response, rendering him speechless.

She laughed at his reaction. “I teach ballet.”

“Of course, you do. I would have totally pegged you as a dancer by the way you so elegantly walk and move.” Heat rose on the back of his neck. What was she doing to him? In order to change the subject, Hart boldly reached up to her wig and fingered the platinum tresses. “I’m curious. What is your real hair color?”

Gia smiled, her blue eyes darker under the street lights. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

He laughed and pushed his hands deep into his pants pockets, smitten by the banter between him and Gia. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? There are a couple of places not far from here and the night is still young.” He noticed her hesitation. “I promise, I won’t make a pass at you.”

“Don’t you have a party to get back to? What will Mitch Montgomery think?”

“Mitch will be fine. I’ll see him next week on the golf course.” He boldly took off his suit jacket and started to hang it over her shoulders. Gia pulled back.

“You’re cold,” he said softly. “My jacket is warm.”

She hesitated a second more before nodding and allowing him to finish, her creamy shoulders snuggling into the clothing.

“One cup of coffee. That’s all I’m asking. You can follow me in your own car.”

“You’re a real Southern gentleman, aren’t you Hart?” Her smile was genuine, as if touched by his gesture.

“My mother and father raised me right,” he joked. If she only knew his whole scandalous story, she might perceive his comment as a bold-faced lie. Hart opened the car door and watched her ease into the front seat. “Now if you’ll just follow me, I promise there will be more chivalry to come.” He pressed his fist to his chest and leaned over dramatically in a sweeping bow, making her laugh.

Gia relented. “Okay. One cup of coffee.”

“Okay?”

She nodded. “Yes. Don’t drive too fast.”

“I’ll go nice and slow,” he reassured her. He shut Gia’s door and trotted to his Mercedes a few spaces away, pleased she had accepted his offer. When he pulled out, he waited till she was right behind him before leaving the club premises.

They wove their way through the upper-class neighborhood to the main streets of the city, only having to stop at two red lights. Hart was about to turn into the nearest Starbucks he prayed might still be open, but when he saw the infamous red light ahead of him, he let out a whoop inside his car. “Yes!”

They parked side by side at the Krispy Kreme donut shop, the red “hot now” light blazing in all its glory. When he came around to open the car door for Gia, he was stunned when she climbed out. She had taken the blonde Marilyn wig off, her jet-black hair stopping him in his tracks. The striking chin-length bob with short bangs accentuated her vivid blue eyes, and with the white dress, fishnets, and red lipstick, she looked like she had just stepped out of a time machine from the 1920s.

“Black,” she said, pointing to her head, her eyes wide as if anticipating his reaction.

“Gorgeous,” he replied in a whisper, drinking in her striking image. He stood there with his mouth hanging open, staring. Gia was nothing like any of the girls he had ever accompanied. She was mysterious and jaw-droppingly stunning in a unique way.

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