“Right. The event is generally coordinated by one of the partner’s wives. John’s wife volunteered, but then she discovered she was pregnant with twins. Her doctor didn’t want her stressing herself with all the planning, so I stepped in and said I’d take care of things.” He rested one ankle on his opposite knee. “Not having a wife, I needed to call in a professional. That’s where you come in.”

“I see.” Which she did. Sort of. Yes, she’d planned parties before, but never one of this magnitude. It was black-tie, A-list, and exclusive. She would never personally have been invited, although she’d read about the fun and good times in In Style magazine.

No doubt he couldn’t ask one of his women to do it. That would require him keeping her around for more than fifteen minutes. A circumstance that would no doubt cramp his style.

He pushed a stack of folders toward her. “Everything you need to know about the previous two parties, including the guest list. John’s wife got as far as picking the hotel, so you’re going to be starting from there.”

Which meant practically starting from scratch. Easy enough. If she had six months and hired three or four more staff members, she could-

“The party’s in May.”

“Not a problem,” she said, holding in a shriek. May? As in less than four months from now? As in ohmygod, now what?

He gave her the exact date, and she wrote it down on her pad.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he said.

“As you said, Mr. Stryker, I’m a professional. This is what I do.”

“I’m sure you do it very well.”

The intensity of his gaze unnerved her. Or maybe it was the heat he generated. She felt as if she were sitting too close to a furnace. Or maybe it was the drop in his voice, as if they were having an intimate conversation.