Stand-In Groom bob-1

by Kaye Dacus

  Her laughter resonated like chimes in the enclosed stairwell. “Hopefully she’s not planning to give Courtney the one that’s in her own house as a wedding present. Maybe you should find an interior designer to recommend to her.”

  “I’m meeting with three on Thursday.”

  The chef turned when they entered the kitchen. “Hey, Anne.” He wiped his hands on the red-and-white-striped towel draped over his shoulder and crossed to embrace her.

  “Hey, Major. I’ve been looking forward to this dinner all day.”

  He cut his gaze toward George. “I’m sure you have.”

  George wasn’t sure how to read the look that passed between Anne and the caterer, who was not wearing a wedding band. George led her out of the kitchen. “How do you know him?”

  “Major? He started working for Aunt Maggie when we were in high school.”

  George smiled and shook his head.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He led her through the dining room and opened the french doors. “I grew up in London. For the last five years, I’ve shuttled back and forth between Los Angeles and Manhattan. I knew Bonneterre was smaller, but with a quarter of a million population, it’s not a village. Yet listening to you, seeing how you cannot go outside of your office without seeing someone you know…it’s very quaint.” He held her chair as she sat.

  She looked over her shoulder with a grin. “It used to be a lot more ‘quaint’ than it is now. The city has nearly doubled in size in the last ten or fifteen years.”

  He sat as she told him about how Bonneterre had changed over her lifetime. At the first lull in the conversation, he stood. “May I offer you a beverage?”

  “Oh, that reminds me, you never opened your gift.” She pushed the white bag on the table toward him.

  “Quite so.” He reached through the tissue paper and wrapped his hand around something rectangular and solid, with a smooth surface. Drawing it out, he grinned when he saw it. “Is this a hint for later?”

  “I thought you liked flavored coffee.” Her protest was overshadowed by the laughter lacing her voice.

  “Yes, but if I guess correctly, hazelnut caramel is your favorite flavor.”

  She bit her bottom lip, and her smile grew wider. “Busted.”

  He loved her laugh. “Would you like some now?”

  “No, save it for dessert. I could really go for some iced tea.”

  “The only kind we have is without sweetening.”

  “That’s fine. I can drink it either way.” She started to stand.

  He stopped her with his hand on her shoulder. “No. You’re my guest. Stay there and let me serve you.”

  Anne’s blue eyes sparkled, and she squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  The dinner Major O’Hara put before them was nothing short of perfection, from the spinach salad with muscadine vinaigrette to the medium-rare London broil with Cajun garlic mashed potatoes and sautéed baby asparagus.

  “I hope this sets your mind at ease,” Anne said after O’Hara cleared their dinner plates. “Major is one of the best chefs I’ve ever worked with. He’s done a ton of catering for me over the years.”

  George reached across the table and covered Anne’s clasped hands. “I’m happy you came.”

  The candlelight glittered in the sapphire pools of her eyes. “I’m happy you didn’t mind the intrusion.”

  Slow. Take it slow. “Your presence would never be an intrusion.” He leaned closer to her.

  They both turned at the sound of a cleared throat. “Are you ready for dessert?” O’Hara stood in the doorway, a silver tray balanced on one hand, a coffee service cart beside him.

  Anne groaned dramatically. “I don’t know how I could eat another bite. What is it?” She leaned back to make room on the table as he stepped forward.

  “White chocolate crème brûlée with raspberries.” He put the individual dishes in front of them. “The coffee is hazelnut caramel.”

  George couldn’t stop looking at Anne. The chef poured the steaming, fragrant liquid into fine china cups, set the silver coffeepot on the sideboard, and withdrew.

  She closed her eyes and sighed as she savored the first bite of the custard dessert. Tonight had been a revelation to George. When she wasn’t in business mode—when she was relaxed and not on a time schedule—she truly enjoyed the experience of dining.

  “What?” She’d caught him staring.

  “I just like watching you.” He was going under deep and fast. Was the pleasure of falling in love with her tonight worth the risk of losing her in a few days?

  Her cheeks glowed in the candlelight. “Why?”

  “Because you’re beautiful.” He sipped his coffee.

  She laughed and shook her head.

  “Yes, you are.” He set down his cup and reached over to lift her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “You are beautiful, and I don’t know who would have told you otherwise.”

  She didn’t speak for a moment, her gaze never wavering. “It was never in so many words.” She put her spoon down. “But the intent was the same.”

  “Well, I’m here now—and I’m right, so you’d best believe me.”

  The smile he’d become addicted to returned. He tweaked her chin between his thumb and forefinger, then lifted his dessert spoon.

  The symphony of crickets, frogs, and other indigenous fauna filled the silence between them. The sky turned red and purple as the sun set on the other side of the house.

  Anne sighed and cradled her coffee cup between her hands.

  “What is it?” Although his father would have been appalled, he propped his elbows on the edge of the table and leaned toward her.

  She swallowed and blinked a few times. “It’s just been a really long time since…” Her voice caught and her bottom lip quivered.

  “Since?” Now that he had her to himself, he wasn’t about to let her clam up.

  She shrugged, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Since I stopped to let myself enjoy a quiet eve—” She flinched and reached for the phone clipped to the waistband of her pants. Her shoulders fell when she looked at the caller ID. “I’m so sorry. It’s my client who’s getting married next week.”

  He stood and kissed her on the forehead. “I need to go speak with Mr. O’Hara anyway.”

  The chef turned as George entered the kitchen. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. It was a wonderful dinner. My compliments—”

  “George, I have to run.” Anne breezed into the kitchen. “There’s a problem with the wedding dress, and I have to go find out if it’s something I can fix or really a problem.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” He helped Anne into her suit coat and rested his hand on the small of her back as he escorted her to the front door. “What seems to be amiss?”

  “I’m not sure. She was so hysterical she wasn’t coherent. So I’m driving out to her house to see what’s wrong. Hopefully it’ll be an easy fix. If not…well, I have a few days to figure out what to do.” She stopped at the door and turned toward him. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I’m sorry work interfered.”

  “Thank you for making it a lovely evening.” He brushed back a lock of hair that had escaped to fall across her forehead. How was it possible that no man had claimed this wonderful woman? “I’ll ring you tomorrow about the final arrangements for the engagement party.” He flinched as the vibrator on his phone startled him. He reached for it as he kissed her on the cheek.

  “Good night.”

  She graced him with another full smile. “Good night.”

  Cliff’s number scrolled across the phone’s screen. He waved goodbye to Anne and lifted the phone to his ear. “Yes, Mr. Ballantine?”

  “Courtney may have blown our cover. If any reporters show up there in the next few days, you have to let me know immediately. We’ll have to change all the plans.”

  Chapter 19

  By Wednesday, George started to relax. No news of the engagement or wedding had appear
ed in the celebrity press. Cliff had announced he’d be giving a press conference in Bonneterre on Friday, and a private service had been contracted to provide security that night since Cliff didn’t want the local police brought in. Courtney would arrive tomorrow, ostensibly to attend a friend’s wedding.

  “George, dude, what is up with you tonight?” Rafe’s voice brought him back to the present—the Fishin’ Shack, where Anne’s cousins had gathered for dinner a night earlier than usual so both Anne and George could attend this week.

  “Sorry. I’ve lots on my mind tonight. What did I miss?”

  “We were wondering where Anne is. We thought she was coming with you.”

  “She had a last-minute meeting with a client. Something about a dress fitting. She assured me she would arrive by seven.” George glanced at his watch. She was nearly twenty minutes late. “Obviously the meeting ran longer than she expected.”

  The restaurant’s back room partially muffled the sound of the large dinner crowd in the main dining room. Jenn fluttered in with a couple of baskets of the fried balls of seasoned cornmeal they called hush puppies. When he’d asked about the name last week, Jenn had spun a tale about Southern soldiers in the American Civil War feeding bits of fried meal to their dogs to “hush” them from giving their position away to the enemy.

  He’d researched it that night on the Internet and hadn’t found a more definitive answer—just a few other tall tales. Whatever their origin, he enjoyed Jenn’s version of the savory pastry, even though cornmeal didn’t rank high on his list of favorite flavors or textures.

  “You gonna try something different tonight, sugar?” Jenn asked, resting her hand on his shoulder. “I’m proud that a real Englishman likes my fish ’n’ chips so much, but…”

  He closed the menu and handed it to her. “I’ll make you a deal, ducky. Bring me your favorite dish—on or off the menu.”

  The delighted gleam in Jenn’s eyes amused him. “Oh, George, we’re going to have so much fun teaching you to suck crawfish heads!” She left the room without taking anyone else’s order.

  “George, you’re going to get a trial by fire tonight of what it means to be in Louisiana.” Jason watched Jenn as she flitted from table to table.

  “My dear fellow, you forget that I am British. I’ve eaten haggis in Edinburgh and jellied eels in London. I’ve also traveled extensively and eaten so-called delicacies ranging from insects to parts of animals that were never meant to be eaten. Crawfish presents no challenge I cannot overcome.”

  The expression on Jason’s face said he believed otherwise, but the young man held his tongue.

  “Hey, y’all. Sorry I’m late.” Anne slid into the vacant chair beside George before he could stand and offer his assistance. Although smiling, the tight lines around her eyes betrayed her heightened stress level.

  “Did everything work out all right?” Forbes, on her other side, put his arm around her.

  Anne blew out a long breath and rolled her neck from side to side. “No. I’m taking the bride dress-shopping next week. She decided she didn’t want to pay the dress shop to alter her gown and instead asked a coworker to do it. Unfortunately, the coworker didn’t measure correctly, and rather than leave extra fabric to make corrections with, she trimmed all of her seams down to less than a quarter of an inch. Now the dress is too tight and too short and can’t be let back out. I know. I tried.” She rubbed her forehead, then reached into her purse and withdrew a small bottle of aspirin. “George, may I?” She pointed at his water.

  He handed his glass to her. “How will she afford to purchase a new dress if she couldn’t afford to pay for alterations to the first one?”

  Anne swallowed two pills with a big gulp of the water with no ice. “I can’t tell you. It’ll make Forbes mad.”

  Why would Forbes care how one of Anne’s clients paid for a dress?

  “Please tell me you’re not letting her take it out of your final fee.” Forbes’s voice had a growl to it that didn’t sit well with George. How Anne conducted her business was just that—her own business. Yet who was he to step between her and her cousin?

  “If I don’t tell you, will you let the matter drop?” She sounded tired—defeated.

  “Anne, the contract you sign with your clients is as much for your protection as it is for theirs. I drew it up specifically to make sure that if something went awry, you would still be paid. The more you do this, the more people are going to hear and take advantage of you.”

  She rested her fists against the edge of the table. George wished there was some way he could help. Without knowing her any better than he did, he wasn’t sure if she would see any action or words on his part as support or as butting in.

  “Forbes, I know for you, as a lawyer, this is going to be hard to understand. My client’s happiness matters more to me than if I get paid next Saturday or if I get paid in miniscule installments for the next six months. It’s not as if I’m hurting for income now like I was a few years ago. This girl is a nursing student who works part-time as a waitress.” As she talked, her voice got softer, her words faster. “She’s already spent more money on the wedding than I advised because she’s trying to make both mothers happy, even though they’ve refused to pay for anything. What should I tell her, Forbes? What?” She shrugged and held her hands up toward him. “Should I tell her she should just wear her next-best dress? Maybe see if she can borrow a friend’s old wedding gown? Tell me. You apparently know better than I do how to run my business.”

  Stunned silence filled the room. Jason and Rafe stared at Anne, mouths agape. Jenn dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin, moved to emotion either by Anne’s story or by the conflict between her cousin and older brother. Meredith glared daggers at Forbes. George suppressed a smile, proud of Anne for taking a stand.

  Forbes cleared his throat. “Anne, I apologize. It’s not my place to lecture you on how you run your business. I know if you wanted legal advice, you’d come to me. I just don’t want to see you lose that business because you let clients overspend their budgets and then not pay you.”

  “I have never had a client not pay me everything due, including my fee. Sometimes it just takes longer.” She rested her hand on her cousin’s arm. “How do you think I got as successful as I am? Not because I was a hardnose about people paying me every penny the moment I thought it should be paid. My brides recommend me to their friends because I’m willing to work with them and do what it takes to make their weddings the most joyous events of their lives. I’m so sad for this young woman because the happiness that she should be feeling this week has been overwhelmed by the fact that she made an error in judgment and her dress was ruined. Forbes, what if it were Mere or Jenn or Marci or Tiffani? I can be a blessing to this girl, show her the true generosity of Christ’s love, and maintain my integrity and my conscience. We’ve already worked out a payment plan that she can afford.”

  Forbes rested his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her close to kiss her temple. “I am so happy you never decided to become a criminal defense lawyer.”

  * * *

  Lafitte’s Landing echoed with the hushed tones of student workers late Thursday afternoon. Anne dropped her duffel bag on the floor just inside the main ballroom. Her cousins Kevin, Jonathan, and Bryan and several of their friends approached her.

  “Thanks for coming, guys. Here’s the deal. Within the next couple of hours, I expect several deliveries of large items. I’ll need y’all to help unload the trucks and bring everything in. Once it’s all here, then we’ll worry about where it goes. Any questions?”

  “Yeah—what time’s dinner?” Bryan elbowed one of his friends and winked.

  “Pizza. Six o’clock. On me.” Even though she was paying them to be here, college boys couldn’t go but an hour or two without eating. Instant gratification to keep them happy until they received their paychecks next week. “Oh, and there’s a big ice chest full of sodas in my car if one of you will go out and get that.”


  Footsteps reverberated from the tiled entry. She tingled from blond hair to pedicured toenails. George strolled in, twirling his key ring around one finger. How could she not have noticed his muscular physique before? His snug, heather gray T-shirt clung to the contours of his shoulders, chest, and upper arms as if he should be on a TV commercial for exercise equipment. His worn-in jeans looked like they’d been tailored to fit. He’d had his hair trimmed since she last saw him, and his milk chocolate eyes sparkled when their gazes met. He had no right to look so utterly sensuous when she was trying to maintain a safe emotional distance.

  “Hello! Delivery!”

  Anne jerked out of her trance at the shout from the opposite end of the building. She grinned at George. “Looks like you timed your arrival perfectly.”

  His forced frown couldn’t quite draw down the corners of his perfectly shaped lips. “And here I’d hoped I’d missed all the manual labor and would be able to stand back and direct.”

  “Nope. That’s my job.” With a sweeping motion of her arm, she invited him to join the boys, who trooped toward the service entrance. “What was it you said earlier this morning on the phone about doing whatever I need you to do?”

  “You thought I was serious?” He tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked from heel to toe.

  That dangerous grin of his nearly dismantled her resolve. “ ‘Deadly serious,’ if I recall correctly.”

  His laughter filled the cavernous room…and her heart. “You’ve got me there. I’d best go see where I can lend a hand, then.”

  To keep from watching him walk across the room, she turned to her bag and withdrew several CDs. She’d gotten keys to everything in the building from Meredith, including the cabinet containing the sound system components. She dropped five discs into the CD changer, switched on the surround sound, and enveloped the hall with the classic tunes and sultry vocals of Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Dick Haymes, Bing Crosby, and Nat King Cole.

  “Annie, these are so cool.” Jonathan and three of his buddies grasped the corners of an enormous board. She’d gone through thousands of stock photos of Mardi Gras to find images that would add ambience. Each had been enlarged, cut into four pieces, and mounted to twelve-feet-wide-by-eight-feet-high boards and would cover the walnut paneling of the room, stacked two high.