Best Laid Wedding Plans

by Lynnette Austin

  Nodding at her shoes, he asked, “Can you walk in those? Thought we might walk along the river.”

  “I could run a marathon in these.”

  “Good enough. I don’t know how you women do it, but I’m not going to quarrel because the view is spectacular.”

  His eyes swept up her legs, and she fought the urge to fan herself.

  “Come back to my bedroom with me. I want to show you something.” She slid her fingers beneath his necktie and led him down the hall.

  He gulped. “Ah, is Molly leavin’?”

  She shook her head.

  One step inside her room, he stopped, puzzled. Nose in the air, he breathed deeply.

  “Dang, this room smells good. It smells like you.” He walked to her and buried his face in her neck. His hands ran up and down her bare arms and goose bumps popped up.

  “Maybe instead of us goin’ anywhere, I could give Molly some money. Send her out to dinner.”

  With a laugh, she shook her head and pulled away. “Huh-uh. You promised me a night on the town, Sir Galahad, and I aim to collect.”

  “So why’d you bring me back here?” His voice had grown husky.

  “This.” She pointed at an old trunk near the window.

  “This is what you wanted to show me?” His gaze drifted from it to the double bed to her face. When their eyes met, his had gone deep and dark. Sleepy and sexy.

  She decided her light-headedness could be blamed on a lack of oxygen because she’d totally forgotten to breathe.

  “The trunk was my grandma’s. It held her trousseau when she moved into Magnolia House as a new bride. I couldn’t squeeze it into the miniscule U-Haul I rented, so I left it with Molly. Do you think you could take it to Misty Bottoms on your next trip home?”

  The look he sent her was pure male frustration.

  “I miss having it with me.”

  On a half-laugh, he said, “Sure.”

  Taking her hand in his, he held it up. Studied the pinky. “You’ve got me pretty much wrapped around this little finger, don’t you?”

  “No,” she said. “But I’m working on it.”

  He laughed, full-out this time. “You’re positive you don’t want to stay in and play?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, let’s go. I made reservations.”

  Chapter 24

  The ambience, the food, the company, all perfect. Total bliss.

  Jenni Beth folded her napkin and laid it on the table beside her plate. “Thank you, Cole. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed this. Away from the renovation mess. A little city time. Quiet time with you.” She traced a fingertip over the lace tablecloth.

  He nodded, wondering if a person could truly get lost in another’s eyes. If so, he was in danger because those eyes drew him in and threatened to swallow him.

  Reaching across the table, he took her hand in his, wove their fingers together. “The night’s not over yet.”

  “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

  “I’m the boss, remember? If I’m a little late, nobody’s gonna dock my pay.” He raised their hands to his lips, kissed the back of hers. “Let’s go dancin’.”

  “Dancing?”

  He nodded. He loved to dance, and he needed, in the worst way, to get this woman back in his arms. Someone had once told him dancing was like making love when you were with the right woman. He knew from Chateau Rouge that was almost true.

  “Remember, we aren’t a couple, Cole. We’re—” She waved a hand in the air. “We’re two friends out to dinner.”

  “Do you still really believe that?”

  Her tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips, and his eyes drank in the movement. He longed to take that mouth in his, wanted his tongue moving over those lips.

  “After that night at my house? We’ve moved way beyond friendship, and you know it,” he said quietly.

  Panic flared in her eyes, and he actually relaxed. Their history made her reticent, but the heat was there. The knowledge was there.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes, sugar.”

  “Yes, sugar.” A mischievous grin lifted the corners of her mouth.

  He took care of the bill and held out a hand. “I know a great little place. You’ll love it.”

  A block away, he drew her inside. The club was jumping. Raw energy filled every inch from the carved bar to the band’s stage to the tables jam-packed into the space. Still, the maître d’ managed to find a table for two in a dark corner.

  After placing their drink order, he led her to the dance floor. Holding her close, he nuzzled her neck and said a prayer of thanks when she pressed closer. Working his way to her ear, he whispered, “You know we’re gonna do this tonight, don’t you? I need you so badly I can hardly think straight.”

  She nodded, and then turned her head to press a kiss at the base of his neck, a kiss that worked its way right down to his very core.

  “I promise it’ll be good, darlin’. It’ll be slow and easy and hot tonight. I want to touch, to taste every inch of you.”

  Oh boy. She nearly melted.

  “I need to call Molly.”

  “You do that, and I’ll bring the truck around.”

  As she stood on the sidewalk in front of the nightclub, she placed her call and wondered if she was doing the right thing. He’d crawled into her head, into her heart. Heck, he’d always been there. She’d thought one more taste of him would be enough. Not so. The night at his house had made her hungrier, made her want more.

  So she’d take tonight. What could it hurt?

  It would be like one more of Kitty’s éclairs before she went on a diet.

  She snorted. Comparing Cole to a chocolate éclair? As much as she loved chocolate…

  Her friend answered.

  “Mol? I… Plans have changed.” She cleared her throat. “I won’t be home tonight.”

  “Am I supposed to act surprised? I can if you want me to.”

  “You didn’t know,” Jenni Beth argued.

  “Oh, come on. The air in here practically sizzled when the two of you touched. I half expected my drapes to go up in flames. Considered grabbing the fire extinguisher, just in case. Girl Scout training. Juliette Gordon Low would be proud of me.”

  “You are so full of it.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But you two are only fooling yourselves. Nobody else is buying the nothing-real-is-happening-here.”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” Jenni Beth said.

  Molly laughed. “So why are you still talking to me? Go jump that man’s bones. Enjoy.”

  She hung up as Cole’s big black truck slid to the curb. He hopped out and came around the front to open her door. Good old Southern courtesy. And no matter how hard she fought for the independent, can-do-anything woman, little things like a man holding a door for a woman still meant a lot.

  The streets were dark and nearly deserted, giving an even greater sense of intimacy and urgency. Neither even attempted small talk.

  He turned onto his street, and Jenni Beth felt her chest grow tighter. The truck had barely rocked to a stop before he tugged her out. Laughing, they raced up the curved wrought-iron stairs and into the brick building that housed his condo.

  “Top floor,” he mouthed. “But it’s only four stories up.”

  He never let loose of her hand as they took the stairs. By the third set, she tugged at his. “Hold on. One second.” She struggled for air. “I don’t consider myself out of shape, but the pace is a little brisk.”

  “Sorry.” He bent and leaned his forehead against hers. His lips captured hers. One kiss led to another.

  When he reluctantly pulled away, she said, “I might be more out of breath now than I was before.”

  “Good!” He laughed. “Want me to carry you up the last flight?”<
br />
  “Not in this life, buster. I’ll make it on my own two feet…or die trying.”

  It was worth it, she thought, as she stepped into his condo and moved to the window.

  “Come here.” He led her to another, shorter flight of stairs.

  They stepped out onto a large private deck with panoramic views of downtown Savannah. It spread before them, lights twinkling. He wrapped his arms around her from the back, trailed kissed along her neck, her shoulders.

  “I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Me neither,” she whispered, turning into him.

  His hands ran down her arms before moving to capture her silk-covered breasts.

  She worked at the buttons on his shirt.

  Not sure how he did it, she gasped as her dress slid off, the night breeze caressing her skin as she stood before him in only two small wisps of lace and her heels.

  He swallowed as he took her in. “I have no words.”

  Scooping her up, he followed her onto a chaise.

  The moon shadowed them as they lost the last of their clothing, as they explored one another, as they joined and lost themselves.

  They fell asleep curled into each other.

  His light kiss on the top of her head woke her. Opening her eyes, she smiled sleepily at him. The moon had traveled high overhead, and stars scattered through the heavens.

  She sighed and snuggled closer.

  “We should probably move inside.”

  She nodded.

  When he kissed her, her head scrambled to catch up to her heart. She gave in and simply let her body go. Again.

  An hour later, they made the trek down the stairs.

  “Hungry? Thirsty?” he asked.

  “Thirsty.”

  She followed him through the living room with its beautiful old fireplace, took in the high ceilings with their crown molding, the hardwood floors.

  Spying the master bedroom, she stuck her head inside the door. Another fireplace, more crown molding, and a grand old four-poster bed.

  This place, so unlike his barn in Misty Bottoms, was also totally Cole, though. He belonged in both worlds, suited them equally well.

  The kitchen? A dream. Small, but oh, so workable. Stainless steel appliances, a wine chiller, granite countertops. The ultimate bachelor kitchen. Heck, what was she thinking? Any man or woman would totally fall in love with every inch of this place.

  He opened a bottle of water, guzzled half of it, and handed her the rest.

  Leaning against the counter, he slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her against him.

  “I can’t get enough of you, sugar. Can’t keep my hands off you.”

  “Personally, I can’t think of a better problem to have.”

  “Let’s try out the bed this time.”

  They stumbled from the kitchen and into his bedroom, where they gave the four-poster quite a workout.

  * * *

  Bright sunlight streamed through the windows when she opened her eyes. She should be tired. She wasn’t. Instead an energy she hadn’t known she possessed held her in its grip.

  Cole snuggled against her, and Jenni Beth grinned. She hadn’t imagined him a cuddler. Had actually wondered—momentarily—if she’d wake to find an empty bed. A note. That he’d gone to work or whatever.

  But he’d stayed.

  Slowly, methodically, his index finger traced along her bare thigh, down, then up, sending frissons of desire through her.

  So he was awake, too.

  She turned in his arms, her lips meeting his. Nothing better than morning sex.

  The kiss deepened, and his hands moved higher.

  Her phone rang.

  Cole nipped her lip. “Ignore it.”

  It rang again and again.

  She sighed. “I can’t.”

  He flopped onto his back, an arm thrown across his eyes as she reached for her purse and found her phone.

  “Tell whoever it is that I hate them,” he muttered.

  She laughed. “Hello?”

  “Jenni Beth? This is Stella.”

  “Stella?” Glancing at the clock, she sat up, hugging the sheet around herself.

  Cole rolled to his side and gave her a questioning look. She shrugged and nearly lost her grip on the sheet. He reached over, tugged at it, and took a quick peek.

  Heat rushing through her, she slapped his hand. “Is something wrong, Stella? You sound upset.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “About what?” Foreboding colored her words.

  “Well, you know,” Stella said uncertainly. “That the plans have changed.”

  Warning bells clamored in Jenni Beth’s head, and she swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. No! “What plans?”

  “Our plans. To have our wedding in your rose garden. At Magnolia House.”

  Jenni Beth swore every drop of blood drained from her face. “I don’t understand.”

  By this time, Cole had pulled on a pair of sweats and dropped onto the side of the bed, studying her. “Problem?”

  She nodded, fighting back the panic that unfurled inside her. “Can I ask, Stella, why you’ve changed your mind?”

  “I didn’t,” the bride answered slowly. “Your assistant called last night and explained what had happened.”

  “Stella, I don’t have an assistant.”

  Cole’s forehead creased, but she held up a finger in a just-a-minute gesture.

  “But she called me,” Stella insisted. “I would have called last night, but, well, it was so late, and I figured you’d be so upset.”

  Stomach churning, almost afraid to ask, Jenni Beth forced out the words. “What exactly did my assistant tell you?”

  “Well, gee, you know. That your rose garden had been destroyed. Those kids came in and tore out all your bushes. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  Jenni Beth heard a sob on the other end of the line.

  “It was so beautiful,” Stella cried, “and I wanted to marry my Bear there.”

  For what seemed a millennium, Jenni Beth’s mind simply froze up. She couldn’t process what she’d heard. She rubbed at her eyes, her forehead, aware that Cole sat quietly beside her, running an anxious hand over her sheet-covered leg.

  Finally, she said quietly, “Stella, it still will be perfect. The rose garden is fine. I don’t know who called you, but—” She stopped herself, met Cole’s steady gaze, and drew strength from him.

  Not wanting to scare her first bride or embroil her in any ugly mess, she crossed her fingers and lied. “My friend likes to play practical jokes. My guess is she’s behind this.”

  “A joke? Honestly? I don’t think it was very funny.”

  “No. It wasn’t, and I intend to call her the minute we hang up.”

  “She told me not to call you.”

  “I’m sure she did, but I can’t tell you how glad I am you didn’t listen to her.” She tipped her head and stared up at the bedroom ceiling, rubbed again at the beginning of what she was certain would be a massive headache. “Everything will be gorgeous for your wedding. I can’t wait.”

  “Me neither. You know her from college?”

  “Who?” She felt like she’d fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole.

  “Your friend.”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Well, I don’t mean to stereotype or anything, but she didn’t, you know, have that little Southern drawl you have.”

  “Really?”

  “You know. She’s got that New Jersey thing happening.”

  Jenni Beth fought the anger. “Oh. Sure. I’ve gotten so used to it that I forget sometimes.”

  Pia D’Amato had made that call. Why? Her headache budded, bloomed.

  Tempted to pepper the bride with questions, she fough
t the urge. Causing the bride stress was just bad business, and airing the dirty laundry that someone was out to sabotage Magnolia House might scare her away. After a few more assurances, she clicked off and tossed her phone on the nightstand.

  “I need to go back to Misty Bottoms.”

  “I gathered that. Grab a quick shower and get dressed. I’ll take you to Clary’s first.”

  Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to disagree.

  “Huh-uh. I’m not sendin’ you home without breakfast. Besides I want all the details, and you can share them with me over a plate of corned-beef hash. Talkin’ about it will settle your nerves.”

  She watched him leave the room, all rumpled and sexy, and prayed he’d gone for coffee. She needed a gallon—for a starter.

  Why would Pia do this? She barely knew the woman, had spoken to her once in person and a couple more times over the phone to firm up the flower order for Stella’s wedding.

  There had to be something more.

  But she’d bide her time. Cole was right. She needed a shower and food. Between last night and this morning, they’d worked off a week’s supply of calories.

  And right now they should be making lazy love in that wonderful bed of his. Instead she was angry and hurt. She wanted to cry. But tears were weak and useless. She’d shed so many this past year and a half, and they’d done no good.

  A quick call to Charlotte affirmed all was well at home. She kept it casual, didn’t mention Stella’s call.

  Hanging up, she grabbed the clothes scattered over the floor and headed into the bath.

  The shower, with its multiple heads, almost melted her bones. She stood under the spray and let it loosen her tense muscles. Talk about a morning imploding in the blink of an eye.

  When she opened the shower door, she smiled like an idiot. Cole stood there, a towel in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other.

  “Which would you like first?”

  She opted for the coffee.

  “Oh, I’m not sure anything has ever tasted this good.”

  “I can think of something.” He dropped the towel to the floor, reached behind her and turned the shower back on. Hand on her hip, he followed her beneath the spray.