Princess Charming

By Heather MacAllister

Author's Edition
Available for the first time--the original version of Long Southern Nights, published by Harlequin Temptation

The problem with having a town named after your great-great grandfather is that everyone automatically believes that fame and wealth go hand in hand. There might be wealth in the town of Jeffersonville, Georgia, but it isn't in the hands of the Jefferson family. And Maggie Jefferson has been fruitlessly trying to correct the situation ever since she discovered the genteel way of life enjoyed by her mother, grandmother, and great aunt, the famous Jefferson Jewels, was threatened by a lack of funds. She needs a job--but no one expects to have to pay her. What do they expect her to live on--her charm?

With that thought, Maggie opens the Jefferson School of Charm. Her first client is Kyle Stuart, owner of the much-reviled Stuart Computers, housed in a shiny-new building the Jewels consider an eyesore. He wants Maggie to prepare his engineers for a visit by a Japanese client. Their unpolished behavior has already strained the business relationship and it's one Kyle must keep or his company will go bankrupt. The Jewels would like nothing more than to see the end of Stuart Computers, but Maggie needs his business to save her family and she needs Kyle to save herself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather MacAllister
• Release date: Jun 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452484235

Heather MacAllister

Heather MacAllister has written over forty-five romance novels, which have been translated into 26 languages and published in dozens of countries. She's won a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award, RT Book Reviews awards for best Harlequin Romance and best Harlequin Temptation, and is a three-time Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist. You can visit her at www.HeatherMacAllister.com.

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Princess Charming

by

Heather MacAllister

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Smashwords Edition

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Copyright (c) 2012 by Heather W. MacAllister

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Cover Photos

© iStock | hammondovi

© iStock | Antagain

© 123RF

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DEDICATION

For all the nice girls out there

Table of Contents

Cover

Dedication

Author's Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

About the Author

Excerpt from Counterfeit Cowgirl

Excerpt from Haunted Spouse

Excerpt from Undercover Lover

Also available by Heather MacAllister at Smashwords

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Set in 1995, this book is the original, never-published, sweet romance version of the book that became LONG SOUTHERN NIGHTS, published by Harlequin Temptation in 1997. The story has always been a personal favorite because sweet, slightly old-fashioned Maggie struggles to honor her heritage, yet live in the modern world--or the modern world of 1995.

CHAPTER ONE

Mr. Matsuzaka, please accept my most humble apologies. Kyle Stuart simultaneously captured the attention of a hovering waiter and speared his software development vice-president with a start-groveling look.

What? Mitchell McCormick, the brilliant, but oblivious head of software development for Stuart Computers, stopped chewing.

Kyle directed a significant look at the dripping Mr. Matsuzaka and another at Mitch's elbow, which had sent a carafe of sake splashing into the lap of their host.

Oh, hey--did I do that?

Kyle nodded and raised his eyebrows, prompting Mitch for an apology.

I didn't even feel it. Sorry. Mitch gazed at the mess and resumed chewing.

Kyle had hoped for more than an ungracious mumble through a mouthful of food.

A stone-faced Mr. Matsuzaka, now reeking of sake, allowed the waiter to dab at his shirt front. Please forgive me for placing the sake so close to your elbow.

Mitchell swallowed. No problem. He stabbed the thinly sliced beef on his plate with the fork he'd insisted upon and shoved it into his mouth. This stuff is great.

Kyle grimaced. Would this meal never end? Mitch was acting out every ugly-American cliché in the book and a few he originated on his own.

With a sinking feeling, Kyle glanced around the other tables, noting how his upper management interacted with their reserved Japanese hosts.

Just this morning, Kyle had stressed the importance of tonight's dinner. After all, Matsuzaka Engineering had invited a dozen of Kyle's key executives to meet with them in San Francisco. Even though it meant flying everyone from Jeffersonville, Georgia, the suburban town near Atlanta where Stuart Computers was located, Kyle welcomed the opportunity. Matsuzaka wouldn't have invited them if he weren't seriously considering a joint venture with Kyle's company. Kyle knew the Japanese liked to meet more than half-a-dozen times to get to know prospective business associates and he hoped this dinner marked the prelude to a long business relationship.

He'd assumed his upper management would be on their best--meaning conservatively formal--behavior.

They apparently didn't have a best behavior.

He didn't even want to consider the fact that this might be their best behavior.

Why hadn't he noticed that socially, Mitch and the others were a little rough around the edges? The engineers preferred their computers to people, but this was business. Did they act this way when they met with clients on their own?

The tension in the room grew. The Matsuzaka people were graciously reserved and the Stuart engineers became even more awkward and ill-at-ease, perhaps sensing that something was wrong and not knowing what it was. Conversation was nonexistent.

Mitchell was the worst of the lot. Kyle tried mental telepathy. Staring so hard his eye muscles hurt, he willed Mitch to look at him. Deftly handling a pair of mother-of-pearl chopsticks, he brought a small piece of the velvety marbled meat to his mouth and savored it.

Mitchell chomped on, preparing to eat the last mouthful on his plate.

Would you care for more? inquired Mr. Matsuzaka.

No, thank you, Kyle said at once. Say no, thank you, Mitch.

That'd be great! Mitch enthusiastically handed his plate to the waiter.

Their host inclined his head.

Kyle gave thoughtful and serious consideration to strangling Mitchell McCormick.

Instead, he faced Mr. Matsuzaka and smiled the patented wide smile that had rarely failed to charm anyone and prepared to salvage the rest of the evening.

His efforts were sabotaged by Mitch. Best steak I've ever eaten.

I made special arrangements for my honored guests, Mr. Matsuzaka pronounced as Mitch accepted another stark-white plate with thin slices of beef fanning around the edge.

Kobe beef is a delicacy in Japan, Mitch. Kyle gave the word delicacy a subtle emphasis which he hoped Mitch would hear and his hosts would not.

Wonnurful, Mitch said through a mouthful of the thousand- dollar-a-pound beef. Do they have doggie bags here?

Kyle winced.

At last, Mitch's enormous capacity for expensive beef was satisfied.

Kyle's attempts to charm Mr. Matsuzaka had been rewarded by a smile or two and he began to hope that this might lead to the long-awaited breakthrough of a contract with a Japanese company.

So, hey, let's get down to business. Mitch pushed the plate aside and fumbled through his leather bomber jacket, impatiently loosening the tie he'd been forced to wear to comply with the restaurant's dress code.

This has been such an enjoyable evening. Let's save the business for another time, Kyle suggested, hoping Mitch would realize it wasn't a suggestion at all. The Japanese hated to rush business.

Huh? Mitch gazed at Kyle, mouth hanging open. In Mitch's eyes, there was the first inkling that he perceived all was not well, but then he pulled a palm-top computer out of his jacket pocket. I can calculate the cost figures for your entire system right now.

If they hadn't been sitting on the floor, Kyle would have reached under the table and kicked him.

No, that probably would be too subtle for Mitch.

Let's wait until we get back to Jeffersonville, Kyle said, smoothly confiscating Mitch's toy.

We are interested in visiting your manufacturing facilities, stated Mr. Matsuzaka.

He was? Swallowing his astonished relief, Kyle dared to hope that the evening hadn't been a complete failure. It would be my pleasure to show you Stuart Computers and to have the opportunity for you to be our guests when your schedule permits. Behind his smile, Kyle held his breath.

Mr. Matsuzaka leaned toward his advisors for a discreet conference.

Mitch sulked over the loss of his computer. Fine, as long as he sulked silently.

Kyle sipped his tea and pretended that nothing much was at stake, certainly not the first new contract to supply a computer system in months.

In the past two years, Stuart Computers' new business had dropped off dramatically. Kyle knew he had a high-quality product at an equitable price, but competition was greater than it had been the year Kyle had raided his trust fund and he, Mitch and two other college buddies had begun the company.

Back then, business had come to them. Now they had to court new markets. And they were losing out.

After eight years of astonishing growth, Stuart Computers was coasting and Kyle thought he'd finally figured out why. His entire upper management was under the age of thirty. They were competing against seasoned executives who'd been in business longer than thirty years.

The huddled conference had ended. We would be pleased to visit your plant in June.

Three months away. Kyle almost groaned aloud. That meant Matsuzaka had other companies under consideration. But at least Stuart Computers was one of them. We'll look forward to your visit.

Three months was a long time.

On the other hand, Kyle thought with a glance around the room, he had only three months to polish the rough edges of the Stuart Computer engineers.

***

The heavy glass doors of Drake Office Supply whooshed closed behind Maggie Jefferson, closing the door on her career in sales as well.

Of course she hadn't made any sales, so she supposed her short stint at Drake didn't count. Three months was a long time to go without income, even if she did still live at home. In a way, Maggie was relieved to have been fired. She'd hated sales, which was probably why she hadn't been any good at it. And, too, most of the merchants in Jeffersonville knew her or her family, and couldn't quite see that charming Miss Jefferson as a salesperson.

Maggie trudged toward the car. She was a teacher and a good one. Unfortunately, the Jeffersonville school district's declining enrollment meant that there were too many second-grade teachers.

And everyone naturally assumed that sweet Maggie Jefferson, direct descendant of Jeffersonville's founder, was working for the fun of it. So when one of the second-grade teachers had to go, it was assumed, naturally, that Maggie would be the one to go.

The problem with having a town named after your great-great grandfather, she thought, was that everyone automatically believed that fame and wealth went hand in hand.

There might be wealth in the town of Jeffersonville, Georgia, but it wasn't in the hands of the Jefferson family. And Maggie had been fruitlessly trying to correct the situation ever since she discovered the genteel way of life enjoyed by her mother, grandmother and great aunt was threatened by a lack of funds.

As she climbed into her grandmother's antique pink Cadillac, she felt flushed and cranky and not at all charming.

She slammed the door shut, enjoying the loud sound. Being ladylike, sweet and nice wasn't landing her a job. People seemed to expect the Jefferson women to sit around in white gloves and hold tea parties all day long.

Probably because that was precisely the image her grandmother fostered.

Maggie immediately felt guilty for her disloyal thoughts. She was just frustrated because she, alone among the Jefferson women, seemed truly aware of their precarious financial position.

And she, alone among the Jefferson women, was going to have to do something about it. After all, one couldn't support oneself on charm alone, could one?

Or could one?

***

Mitch paced around Kyle's office in agitation. We've been together since the beginning and you always said you'd handle the people stuff and leave the computers to me. Right?

Right. Kyle rubbed his temple, in his own way as agitated as Mitch. Stuart Computers might not survive the coming visit by the Japanese. But since you're one of Stuart's founders, Matsuzaka will think it strange, even insulting, if you aren't attending any of the entertainments.

Then he can just be insulted.

Kyle gazed sightlessly at the newspaper on his desk. Mitch was and always would be Mitch. Although he was a vice-president, and a twenty-eight-year-old millionaire, he looked and acted like the precocious and introverted college freshman he'd been when Kyle had met him. Over the years, Kyle had accepted his friend's idiosyncrasies, but the disastrous dinner with the Japanese had shown him others might not.

You can't avoid business socializing forever. I can give you a few pointers in how to go on. Or we could ask someone else. Kyle fingered this morning's Jeffersonville Journal. Inside was an advertisement for a charm school and he was trying find a way to suggest that Mitch enroll without insulting him.

I'm not into that etiquette stuff. Mitch waved a hand. Bunch of stupid rules. Just count me out of any more fancy shmancy dinners.

Kyle tilted his chair back. Can't do that.

Now wait a minute--

In three months, Matsuzaka and his team will visit each of the companies they're considering. While they're here, we'll entertain them and show them a little of the town and of Atlanta. In the process, we'll be selling them on Stuart Computers--on us. Kyle paused to let his words sink in.

Mitch shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at his tennis shoes. Selling is Lane's job. I never had to do that before. I don't want to do it. I want to design programs.

Kyle gritted his teeth. The contract could depend on this visit, Mitch. The Japanese like to know the people they'll work with. I told you that, remember?

Mitch pouted. His irritation with anything that took him away from his beloved computers was legendary. Well, then let them talk to Pat.

Pat's in applications.

The Japanese don't have to know that.

Kyle knew he couldn't get through to him. Mitch was and probably always would be a living stereotype of a computer engineer. He wore polyester pants, tennis shoes and a shirt with a pocket protector that had failed in its job to protect against leaky engineering pens and India ink. He needed a haircut, and so help him, was sporting electrical tape around his glasses frames.

Why don't you buy new frames for your glasses? Kyle asked impulsively. You can certainly afford it.

Mitch shrugged. The primary function of correctional lenses is to increase vision acuity. These work.

Kyle sighed.

What? You think that Matsuzaka will notice my glasses? Mitch's voice was shrilly defensive.

Calm down, Mitch. Mitch was prickly, but he could be hurt. Easily. Kyle wasn't going to hurt him, not for a hundred contracts. We can talk again when I've made a few plans.

Well, don't include me in any plans, Mitch warned, and then loped out of the office.

Kyle closed his door so he could be alone to think. There would be other visits and other dinners. And other fiascoes. The Stuart engineers needed a crash course in business etiquette. For their own good.

Sighing heavily, Kyle flipped to the newspaper article that had caught his attention. Jeffersonville's First Family offers Charm School, read the headline. The article announced the start of coed classes taught by Maggie Jefferson, direct descendant of LaRue Jefferson, founder of Jeffersonville.

Mighty proud of her pedigree, he thought. He could just picture a starched-up matron who'd scare off or insult Mitch and the others. Or she might be a gentle southern belle with prissy notions of propriety. Or she could be a reasonable woman who'd agree to conduct classes for his executives. But before he approached her, Kyle intended to find out how Maggie Jefferson and her Charm School would handle Mitch.

Or someone exactly like Mitch.