heavily to the American Cancer Society, ever since Payne’s untimely death ten years ago. Skimming the article, Wynn realized he’d donated to Corrigan’s charity event taking place tonight in Beverly Hills at the Montrelle Hotel.
He dialed Cady’s number.
“What?” she huffed, sounding out of breath.
“Are you jogging?”
“I’m jogging.”
“Can you talk and jog?” he teased, actually proud of Cady pounding the pavement. She’d lost a leg in the car accident that had killed their parents and had undergone months of therapy. Once he’d become financially successful, Wynn had sent for Cady so she could live with him. He’d seen she had the best medical care, including the most updated prosthetics available. It amazed him what she could do.
Cady sniffed. “I can multitask, Wynn. You know better than to ask. Hold on.” The line went silent ten seconds. “Ah. Okay, I had to drink some water. What’s up?”
“Didn’t I make a donation to Rhett Corrigan’s cancer foundation this year?”
“You did,” Cady assured him. “You have for five, maybe six years. It comes with an invite to the big fundraiser.”
“A casino party. It’s tonight. I just read about it.”
“I know. You never go. I’ve stopped asking you because you never go anywhere.”
“Can I still get in?”
“You definitely have a bungalow for the night. That’s part of the package if you give at a certain level. I RSVP’d no so you won’t have a seat at the charity dinner. I’m sure you could still get into the party. It would be a real coup for you to be seen there since you’re like a monk as far as getting out in public goes.”
“I want to attend the dinner. And I want to sit at Rhett Corrigan’s table,” Wynn insisted.
“Are you serious?” Cady snorted. “Like I’m supposed to wave my magic wand and make someone at Rhett Corrigan’s table disappear?”
“Well, you can multitask,” he reminded her. “And you’re hands down the best assistant in Hollywood. Come on, Cady. I need this. It’s important.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it,” she said grudgingly. “I can’t promise you Rhett’s table, though.”
“I’m going only if I sit at his table. Make that clear to whoever’s in charge.”
“All right, Wynn.” She paused. “Can I ask why, all of a sudden, you’re keen to attend an event in Hollywood when you never do?”
“I go to my premieres,” he reminded her, though it was left unspoken that occurred under duress from the studio’s PR machine.
“Enough. Let me finish my run and then I’ll whip out that wand and make the magic happen.”
“Why don’t you pull out your broomstick and fly home so you can get started on making this reality?”
Cady hung up on him.
Wynn grinned. He would get to meet his idol tonight—and let Rhett introduce him to Scarlett.
CHAPTER 2
Scarlett smoothed the skirt of her midnight blue cocktail dress as she swung her legs from the car and handed the valet her keys. It was an hour before Rhett’s gala would start but she wanted to be on hand to help with any last-minute problems. No matter how meticulously the event planning was, something—or someone—always threw a wrench into the night. She loved being a problem-solver and would do whatever she could to make this night go well for her brother.
Entering the ballroom where dinner would be held, she gazed at the elaborate table arrangements and knew how hard the staff had already worked at making tonight successful. Spying Sarah Hartnett on her cell and pacing frantically, she moved in that direction.
“Miranda, the seating arrangements are set in stone. I can’t move him to Rhett’s table. There’s nowhere to put him.” Sarah paused. “Yes, Miranda. Of course.” She ended the call and saw Scarlett standing nearby.
“Trouble?”
Sarah blinked back tears. “I have sweated blood over where to seat everyone. Even those idiots who didn’t RSVP. I called every one of them individually and got commitments and planned and shuffled and balanced to perfection. Now, Miranda tells me she assured Wynn Gallagher’s assistant a couple of hours ago that he could sit at the head table. He wanted to sit at Rhett’s table or not come at all.”
“That’s a coup, Sarah. Gallagher never attends public events.”
“I know. Miranda insisted that he sits at Rhett’s table. It didn’t matter who needed to be moved. You know Miranda.”
Both women said at the same time, “Make it happen,” the foundation head’s trademark motto.
“I can’t lose my job over this but I don’t know where to begin.” Sarah waved the seating chart around in her hand. “There’s literally no