by Kaye Dacus
Movement at a nearby table caught his attention. A waiter stopped, two fancy desserts perched precariously on his tray. With great ceremony and flourish, he placed the sweet delights on the table.
What was it about the patron that made him stand out? The fork in the young man’s hand trembled, and he never took his gaze off his pretty companion. Neither could be much older than twenty. The lass took a couple of bites of the chocolate confection, but her fork stopped when she went for the third. She frowned, then dug something out. A small box. A few moments later, she let out a high-pitched gasp and threw her arms around her beau’s neck. The lad dropped to one knee, and the crowd broke into applause.
George hoped the two young people had given this decision prayerful consideration. He hadn’t been much older than the newly engaged couple when he’d prepared to propose to his first love. Praise God he’d learned her true nature before making a complete fool of himself.
Forbes clapped with enthusiasm. “Good for them.”
“Are you married, Forbes?”
The lawyer held up his left hand and wiggled the empty third finger. “No. Don’t know if I ever will be, either.”
George sat back, surprised.
Forbes laughed. “Now, before you go getting the wrong idea about me, let me explain. I don’t know if I’ll ever find a woman my sisters and mother will find suitable for me. They’ve been trying for years. But the ones they like, I can’t stand.”
“And the ones you like?” George raised his brows.
“Humph. That’s the problem. I can’t even find one to bring home for them not to like.” He sighed. “I suppose when God’s ready for me to fall in love, He’ll throw the right woman into my path.”
“Hopefully you won’t be driving at the time.” George kept his expression serious.
Forbes blinked, then threw his head back in laughter, drawing the admiring gazes of several nearby female diners.
The waitress arrived with their meals. George glanced at the proposal-couple’s table. A woman in an aubergine suit knelt between the two, listening to the animated young woman, her focus earnest and interested. Her blond hair was caught up in a french twist, and even from this distance, he could see a sparkle in her electric blue eyes. Everything about her—from her smile to the way she put herself below the level of the young couple—bespoke someone who put others before herself. The kind of woman he’d always dreamed of finding.
“George?” A frown etched Forbes’s celebrity-caliber face.
George nodded his head toward the beautiful woman still kneeling beside the other table. “Who do you suppose that is?”
“Well, well, well. I knew she had other plans tonight; I just never imagined…” Forbes’s smile took on a warmth usually reserved for a man’s mother, wife, or sisters—or sweetheart. “She’s a professional wedding planner. Right now, she’s listening to all the young woman’s childhood dreams of what her wedding should be like. When she meets with them in her office sometime next week—and don’t worry, they’ll be there—she’ll already have a preliminary budget worked out.”
George’s heart sank at the woman’s title. “Wedding planner? Is she—?”
“She is. She’s going back to her table now.” Forbes leaned to his left to watch her progress over George’s shoulder. “If I can catch her before she leaves, I’ll introduce you.”
George nodded, keeping his turmoil under tight control. This would have been a lot easier if she’d turned out to be some old, grandmotherly type. How would he ever convince this wedding planner he was the bridegroom when he found her so utterly attractive? God, what have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 2
As soon as she returned to her table, Anne wrote down all the details of her conversation with the potential new clients. Of course, if they really wanted to get married in three or four months, she might not be able to take them on. Her schedule was so full now she rarely got more than four or five hours of sleep every night of the week. Just about the only remnants of her personal life she hadn’t given up were church, Sunday dinners with the entire extended family, and Thursday night dinners out at Jenn’s restaurant with the cousins.
In five years, her business had gone from operating out of the second bedroom of her apartment to allowing her to lease a storefront on Town Square. Six months ago, she’d purchased the Victorianturned-triplex, where she’d lived in the second-floor apartment for nearly five years. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d be so successful. Of course, the article about her in Southern Bride back in January had helped.
Satisfied vindication filled her. Her ex-fiancé might have taken her for all she was worth ten years ago, but she’d still been able to get out of debt and make something of herself.
Good grief. Why did she still feel she had something to prove to him? Just because she’d supported him until he’d become a megamovie star whose photo graced the front cover of every gossip magazine and tabloid known to man. Just because she’d dropped out of graduate school to go to work full-time to be able to send him rent money out in Los Angeles—
“Here you go.”
She jumped at the sound of the waiter’s voice and quickly closed her planner and put it on the floor. “Thank you. It looks wonderful.”
“Enjoy.”
Pushing aside the memories of her first and worst relationship, Anne determined to enjoy her meal and not let the past interfere with the present. The only thing she could do was make sure she never let another man use her and dump her again. She deserved better.
As she savored each bite of the eggplant roulade, she let her gaze wander across the restaurant to make sure she didn’t miss seeing or speaking to anyone else she knew. Casual conversations with acquaintances could turn into referrals. At the sight of her cousin Forbes, with his dark good looks, halfway across the room, she paused. Women young and old turned to cast admiring glances in his direction.
Who was he with? Seated, the other man appeared to be about the same height as Forbes with a more slender but still athletic build, while his slightly too-large nose and sharp chin gave him a distinct profile.
Something stirred inside Anne that she hadn’t felt in a long time— interest. He wasn’t conventionally handsome—nothing compared to her cousin—but the way his sharp features softened when he smiled at the waitress created a tingling sensation in her stomach that she hadn’t felt since high school. He had medium-brown hair but looked like he was graying a bit at the temples, adding a distinguished air. She should go over and speak to Forbes so she could meet this handsome stranger. But if they hadn’t tried setting her up with him, he might be married—
“Is everything okay with your dinner?” The waiter replaced her half-full glass of soda with a fresh one.
“It’s lovely, thank you. My compliments to the chef. There’s just no way I can eat such a generous serving in one sitting.”
“I understand. Can I get you another box?”
“Yes, please. And if you can go ahead and bring my check, I’d appreciate it.”
“Yes, ma’am. Can I interest you in a dessert to go? Tiramisu, maybe?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I’ll have to pass.”
In a few minutes, she boxed up the remaining half of her meal, all the while keeping tabs on Forbes’s table to make sure they didn’t leave before she managed to get over there or catch his eye. She left enough cash in the black folder with the receipt to cover a generous tip and picked up her purse, planner, and to-go boxes.
She crossed the room, stopping twice to speak to acquaintances and see baby pictures or leave a few business cards for any newly engaged couples they might know. Keeping her attention anywhere but on the handsome stranger proved difficult. She must learn his identity.
When she drew near, Forbes glanced in her direction. “Here’s someone you should meet,” he said to his dinner companion. Forbes stood to draw her into a hug, his grin creasing the corners of his grayish blue eyes.
&nb
sp; “Hey. I didn’t want to interrupt, but I couldn’t just leave without stopping to speak to you.” She turned and smiled at the stranger, who’d also stood. He was a couple of inches taller than she, but more slender than the men she usually found attractive. She gazed into eyes the color of light-roast cinnamon hazelnut coffee, and her heart fluttered. Fluttered! Like some addlepated schoolgirl.
She regained control of her senses and extended her right hand. “Good evening. I’m Anne Hawthorne.”
His grasp was firm, his skin soft. He worked indoors, probably at the law firm with Forbes. Then why hadn’t she met him at the office Christmas party?
“George Laurence, ma’am, at your service.”
Tingles danced up and down her spine. A British accent! She’d always dreamed of marrying a man with a British accent.
Get ahold of yourself, girl! You’re thirty-five years old, not some starry-eyed teenager. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Laurence. So how do you know Forbes?”
The Englishman cleared his throat and looked at her cousin. She frowned.
Forbes rested his hand on her shoulder. “George… represents someone I work with.”
Hopefully he wasn’t in town briefly for a trial or something like that. “So you’re a lawyer, too, Mr. Laurence?”
“Not exactly.” Had he grimaced? Frowned? Grinned? The expression was there and gone before she could be certain.
“It’s complicated, Anne.” Forbes squeezed her shoulder. “I thought you were waiting on someone, or we would have asked you to join us. How was your dinner, by the way?”
Okay, obviously this guy was working on some case that was so confidential they couldn’t even discuss it in front of her. “The food was great. I hadn’t planned on eating alone tonight, but you know, ‘the best-laid plans…’ ” Her cheeks burned as she was conscious of George Laurence standing next to her. Time to try to make a graceful exit. “Well, I’d best be going. As I said, I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“George, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’d like to walk Anne out to her car.” Forbes herded her toward the front door, stopping with alacrity, although only for a moment, when a family acquaintance recognized them. On the way past the hostess stand, Anne took one more peek at George Laurence, now sitting by himself at the table. Handsome, British, and at least six foot two.
She bit her bottom lip to contain her grin and braced herself for the heat as the air-conditioning chased them out the door. “Why haven’t I ever met him before?”
“Because he just arrived in town today.” Forbes tucked her left hand under the crook of his elbow, then took her food boxes and planner. “All kidding aside, what happened with your date, Annie?”
“I don’t know. I was running a few minutes late, and when I arrived, he wasn’t here. After I’d been here awhile, I called to check to see when he was coming, and some gal at his office told me he’d gotten called in for a breaking news story. So I had dinner by myself—” Her left heel caught in a crack in the cement parking lot and the shoe twisted out from under her. Thank goodness for Forbes’s supporting arm, or she would have fallen face-first onto the pavement—which would have been a fitting end to a night like this.
“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”
“He left word that he’d call me tomorrow.” She stopped at her car, pressing the unlock button on her key-fob remote, and took her food and planner from her cousin. Forbes opened the door for her, and she ducked in to set her things atop a stack of files on the passenger seat. She narrowly missed hitting her head on the door frame as she stood. “Of course, I can’t imagine why he’d rather go out with me and not with Jenn.”
Forbes placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled her close to kiss her forehead. “Because you are a beautiful and interesting woman, Anne. Any man would be lucky to have you. If we weren’t related—” He waggled his well-groomed eyebrows.
She groaned. “Forbes! I really wish you’d stop saying that. It’s bad enough that half your coworkers think I’m your wife because you take me to every office party.” If they weren’t related, he’d never have given her a second glance. Not someone as good looking and popular as he’d always been. Of course, she had somehow been noticed by—
No. She’d already determined not to think about that tonight. That part of her life was long over and done with. “Tell me about this George guy.”
“He’s not for you, Anne.”
“I didn’t notice a wedding ring.”
“No.” Forbes ran his fingers through his short, dark auburn hair.
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. Forbes never touched his hair for fear of messing it up.
“Just take my word for it. He’s—not available.”
“Oh, so he’s—” She stopped when he pressed his fingers to her lips.
“Not available. Leave it at that, please?” He kissed her forehead again. “Now, go home and get some rest. I’m sure you have a very busy day tomorrow.”
“Rest?” She kept from snorting as a rueful laugh escaped, but just barely. “Do you see the stack of file folders on the passenger seat? It’s a wedding weekend, honey. I wouldn’t have taken the time to do more than pick something up at Rotier’s on my way home tonight if Jenn hadn’t insisted I go out with—” She snapped her fingers, her mind drawing a blank on her no-show date’s name.
“Danny?” Forbes prompted.
“Yes. With Danny.” She opened the car door. “Oh, and Forbes?”
“Yes?”
“Should your friend George ever become not not available, you’ll let me know, right?”
“You’ll definitely be the first person I’ll tell. Good night, Anne.”
She waved as he walked away, then got in the car and put the top down to enjoy the evening air.
Whatever Forbes meant by “not available,” God hadn’t let her cross paths with George Laurence for no reason. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t just going to take Forbes’s word.
* * *
George sipped his water. Anne Hawthorne. Something about her just wouldn’t let him be. She was pretty, yes. Tall for a woman, with a striking figure as well. But he’d met hundreds, perhaps thousands of beautiful women in his life. No, it was something in the expression of her eyes—something real that he wasn’t used to seeing.
Setting his goblet back on the table, he took a deep breath and blew it out. Lord, how did I get rooked into this scheme? I only signed the first contract five years ago because it ensured me a work visa and job security. This is the first time since then I’ve truly resented anything my employer has asked me to do. How can I live a life pleasing to You if I’m practicing deception? Yet how can I refuse when it means going back to England? If You can just get me through the next seventeen months until I can apply for citizenship—
The chair across the table scraped against the ceramic tiles. George conjured a smile for Forbes. How did this man know Anne Hawthorne?
“Sorry about that. Dessert?”
George declined. “You know the wedding planner well, then?”
“The—Anne? Yes, I’ve known her all my life. She’s my cousin.”
His cousin. George kept his grin in check. Whether she was his cousin or his sweetheart shouldn’t matter. She was still beyond his reach. The contract addendum litigated that. Maybe once his employer revealed the truth at the engagement party…
But by then, George would have been lying to this woman for more than a month. She would hate him, and her hatred would be well deserved. By then, he would probably hate himself as well.
To keep from dwelling on such thoughts, he turned his attention to his dinner companion. “When will the plumbing be repaired so Mrs. Agee and I can move into the house?”
“A few days more—probably next Monday or Tuesday. When does Miss Landry arrive?”
“Sunday evening. She has planned to lodge with a childhood friend while in town.”
“Good.” Forbes folded his napkin and laid it beside
his empty plate. “Although it’s not generally known who owns the house, it’s better if she is seen only with and around people she’s known all her life. Less suspicion will be raised that way.”
“Would it be better if I stayed elsewhere?” Although he loathed the idea of spending the next five weeks in a hotel, better that than reveal his employer’s secret before the time of his employer’s choosing.
“No. I think you’ll be fine staying out there. The rumor around town is that the property was purchased by a wealthy out-of-towner, and you’ll serve as the mysterious, eccentric new owner for the time being.”
“Does Mrs. Agee know—?”
“Who her real employer is? No. She signed a contract with a confidentiality clause, but we felt at this time she didn’t have a need to know. When the time is right, she’ll be informed.”
George nodded at the waitress to take his dinner plate and waved off the dessert menu. “And Ms. Hawthorne? If she were to sign a confidentiality agreement?”
“No.” Forbes’s expression became courtroom-caliber serious. “She is not to be told until the day of the engagement party. I don’t—she doesn’t need to know you aren’t Courtney Landry’s fiancé. Of course, that means you will have to handle some details yourself.”
Some details? George nearly laughed at the understatement. How was Anne Hawthorne supposed to pull together an engagement party when seeing the invite list might tip her off as to the true identity of her client? And what about the invitation itself? It couldn’t have the name George Laurence on it. He’d have to do that, too. The more he thought about the event, the more tasks he discovered would fall to him to accomplish.
At least the next few weeks wouldn’t be boring.
* * *
As she climbed the back stairs to her apartment, Anne juggled her duffel bag, attaché case, purse, stack of files, and the cup of gourmet coffee she’d stopped for on the way home. As soon as she dropped everything but the coffee cup on the kitchen table, she realized she’d left the food in the car.
