“What’s wrong?”
“Aunt Sophie. She’s on the loose again.”
“I thought Fee had this covered.”
“So did she.”
Jackson quickly looked around the room. “Where’s your mom?”
“I was just trying to figure that out.”
“Okay,” he said, and he rubbed her shoulder. “I did see her earlier. Come with me.”
Emma hesitated, but only for a moment. Ben Colson’s silky voice drew her attention to the stage for an instant. A soft blue backlight lent a vintage vibe to his rendition of “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” Wishing she had a few minutes to enjoy the bluesy performance, Emma hurried off to catch up with Jackson.
“… seen Mrs. Travis?”
“No, sir.”
She hadn’t come to a full stop before Jackson moved on from the valet and headed toward the empty restaurant at the far end of the lobby. Georgiann was seated at one of the tables, one of her stocking feet stretched out over its abandoned shoe.
“This’ll teach me to wear a new pair of shoes without breaking them in,” she said on a chuckle as they reached her. “It’s a lovely affair, Jackson. Just lovely.”
“Have you seen Avery Travis, George?”
“Yes, a few minutes ago,” she told him. “She was out in the courtyard.”
Jackson touched Emma’s arm and led her to the lobby again. “If you see her before we do,” he tossed back toward his sister, “tell her we’re looking for her?”
“Y-yes,” Georgiann called after them, bewildered. “Yes, I will.”
Emma pushed past Jackson through the doors and out to the brick courtyard. A dozen or more guests milled around, some of them holding glasses and some of them seated at the wrought iron bistro tables. Emma thought that it looked like a scene from a movie with all of them dressed in elegant costume, a million tiny white lights twinkling in the trees overhead.
“I don’t see her, Jackson. What are we going to do?”
“Don’t panic,” he assured her as they stood there, side by side, scrutinizing every face before them. “Sophie will probably turn up in the ballroom. That’s where all the action is. We’ll go back there and wait for her.”
It was as good a plan as they had at their disposal, so Emma decided to follow Jackson’s inclination until something better came along. One more circle to check back in the restaurant, and then …
They both noticed it at the same moment, and Jackson and Emma stopped in their tracks. The door to the consultation room was cracked slightly, and a beam of light streamed out from inside. Jackson reached it first, but the moment he pulled the door open and peered inside, he closed it again and turned toward Emma. The look on his face was one of amused alarm, mixed with …
The taste of a bad lemon, Emma decided.
“Is it Aunt Sophie?”
“No.” He stated it with a firm resolution that further piqued Emma’s interest.
“What is it, Jackson?”
He reached for her but missed when she sidestepped him and pushed open the door.
Time froze and a shower of prickly needles poked at her. Without further thought, Emma opened her mouth and allowed the scream that rose up from the very pit of her stomach to catapult over her throat and straight out her mouth. In the very next instant, Jackson stood behind her, bracing her against him, and he covered her mouth with his large hand.
He hadn’t silenced her fast enough, however, and her parents reacted to her scream, fumbling out of the embrace in which she’d caught them, sputtering a forced end to their very passionate kiss.
“What are you DOING?!” she bellowed into the palm of Jackson’s hand. “Are you out of your MINDS?”
Avery swiftly pulled the handkerchief from Gavin’s pocket and shoved it toward him, nodding at the smear of lipstick around his mouth.
Dabbing at it while he spoke, Gavin stammered, “Th-there you are, P-Princess. We … your mother and I, that is … we were wondering where you’d gotten off to.”
Jackson slowly eased his hand away, bracing Emma’s shoulder with a firm grip.
“Try counting to ten,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
Emma’s eyes were so wide and round that they stung. “There isn’t a number in the world big enough for me to count down. What are you two doing?”
“Well,” her father said on a chuckle. “We’re smooching, Emmy.”
“Gavin!” Avery gasped, smacking his arm with the back of her hand.
Emma turned around, her parents behind her. Swallowing hard and wondering if she was about to lose her dinner, she muttered, “Aunt Sophie is missing. We need to find her.”
As she walked away from them, she heard her mother and Jackson whispering.
Good, Mother. Involve my boss in your breakdown.
She shook her head as she ambled back toward the ballroom, and Fee stepped into stride beside her.
“Did you find her?”
“No.”
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
“Em, really. I am so, so sorry.”
Emma stopped in her tracks, and Fee nearly ran right into her.
“If you had seen what I’ve just seen …”
“What?” Fee cried. “What did you see?”
“I mean, my eyes!” she exclaimed. “They may be scarred for life, Fee.”
“You’re freaking me out.”
“You don’t know what it IS to be freaked out. Not until you’ve seen your divorced parents, feeling each other up and sucking face in a closet.”
Fee’s entire face scrunched up into a balled fist. “Ew.”
Emma nodded knowingly, then shook her head again. “It was tragic.”
“Are they …” She leaned in toward Emma and whispered, “… getting back together?”
Emma considered the thought and then shuddered.
“Watch your language, Bianchi. Even in a whisper, that comes off obscene.”
The Year’s Most Unique Wedding Favors
Acrylic heart coasters, engraved with poetic quotes about love.
Scented candles in the shape of a wedding dress.
“Love is Brewing” gift boxes with flavored teas and tea accessories.
A gift box with petit fours in the flavors of the wedding cake.
Cookies made to look like the wedding invitation.
Place cards set in beautiful, ornate take-away picture frames.
“Mint to Be” boxes of take-home mints, chocolates, and almonds.
Beach-themed bucket filled with chocolate starfish and seashells.
Bottle of wine or champagne with label commemorating the wedding.
“Perfect Blend” packets of flavored coffee with personalized labels.
18
Six of the servers stood by the lobby door in two perfectly straight rows, handing out favor boxes to the guests as they made their way outside. Norma had outdone herself with the idea of wedding-type favors made out of fold-out cardboard boxes in the shape of a horse-drawn carriage, filled with tulle-and-ribbon bags of fragrant wildflowers, Jordan almonds, and gourmet chocolates bearing the ornate gold T that served as The Tanglewood’s logo.
“Jackson, it was a beautiful party,” Christina Valentine said as he helped her slip into her evening coat. “I just wish we could have spent a little more time together.”
She snapped her bright red locks out of the collar of her coat and struck what he assumed was her best model pose.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he told her. “Drive safely.”
The disappointed drop in her gleaming white smile wasn’t lost on Jackson, but women like Christina Valentine just didn’t interest him. Too much makeup, too much hair, and far too much effort to keep it all up. He’d always been drawn to a simpler type, like Desiree. Her natural beauty was attractive, yes; but it was her quiet confidence that set her apart from the other women he’d known.
Jackson’s attention was nudged toward Emma, as if h
is jaw was attached to an invisible hook on a long string. It had been quite a night for her, and yet there she stood, so beautiful and gracious as guests complimented her wizardry in the kitchen.
“I wouldn’t have believed the hype if I hadn’t tasted that cake for myself,” the deputy mayor assured her. “You have quite a talent, Miss Travis.”
“Thank you so much. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
Her smile betrayed not one trace of the worry Jackson knew had consumed her. Sophie was still M.I.A., the sight of Gavin and Avery Travis locking lips was no doubt burned into their daughter’s memory, and yet Emma was just as sweet and cordial as if she had not a care in the world.
Her gaze clicked with his for several beats before she looked away and smiled at the next in the line of departing partygoers. Strange how vacant it left him when she broke away. Jackson’s odd and unexpected connection with Emma was palpable, even across the width of a hotel lobby teeming with people.
“Best of luck with this venture,” Bob Harding said as he shook Jackson’s hand. “I think you have a winner here.”
“Let’s hope,” he returned, and he patted Bob’s back as he passed through the door.
When he looked back again, he noticed Fee at Emma’s side, and the two of them were deep in animated conversation, punctuated by Fee pointing toward the far end of the lobby. Once again, Emma’s eyes met Jackson’s. He could almost hear the click of it, like a gear set into place. One nod from her, and the two of them took off across the lobby, meeting up at the front desk, and turning the corner in perfect unison.
“Exciting night,” Jackson commented.
“I’ve tried having dinner twice now, and failed both times,” she told him as they scurried down the hallway. “And I don’t think I heard Ben Colson finish one entire song.”
“But on the bright side, you got to see your parents making out.”
He felt certain from the look in her eye that Emma was just about to shoot something scathing in his direction, but then she jumped.
“There she is!” she cried out, and Jackson looked up just in time to see the mint-green hem of an evening gown disappear on the landing of the ornate staircase.
Emma and Jackson hurried toward the stairs and began the ascent. Just as they reached the landing, they both jumped, and Emma squealed, as a flutter of wildflowers cascaded out of nowhere over top of them.
“Wheeeeeeeee,” Sophie cried from above them and tossed another handful of the flowers into the air before they floated down over them.
“Aunt Sophie,” Emma said on a sigh.
“Have a wonderful honeymoon!” her aunt exclaimed, tossing one last scoop of wildflowers at them. “The wedding was just beautiful!”
Jackson brushed the flowers from his shoulders and out of his hair as Emma closed the gap between them and her aunt.
“I haven’t had a Jordan almond in years,” Sophie told her as she plucked one out of the tulle bag in her hand and happily plopped it into her mouth. Then she lifted one of the chocolates and held it out to Emma. “What does the T stand for? I thought your new name was Drake.”
“Can I speak with you?”
Emma regarded her mother for a moment, then she touched her arm. “Just take Aunt Sophie and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
Avery frowned. “I can explain.”
Emma hugged her mother and kissed her cheek. “Please don’t. I don’t think I could bear the details.”
“But sweetheart—”
“Really, Mother, let’s leave this on a need-to-know basis and—” Gavin walked up beside her and the two of them finished in stereo. “—I don’t need to know.”
Emma gave her father a tired smile.
“Let’s give Emmy a day or two to get over it, and then we’ll talk.”
“You say that like I might survive what I’ve seen tonight.”
Gavin kissed her forehead. “Love you, Princess.”
Emma folded her arms and stood planted in her spot, watching as her father wrapped his own coat around Sophie’s shoulders before walking her and Avery out of the hotel.
“You have quite an in-trestin’ family,” Madeline said, appearing beside Emma.
“Yeah. Interesting.” Grinning at Madeline, she suggested, “That’s what we should call them from now on. Interesting.”
Madeline chuckled. “Good night, Emma.”
Emma wasn’t sure what to do with herself, so she just stood there and massaged her forehead with the fingertips of both hands.
“Ms. Travis?” She looked up to find one of the hotel desk clerks standing before her. “Mr. Drake called the front desk to ask if you would join him in the ballroom for a few minutes.”
“Any idea why?”
“None. Sorry.”
“I’m pretty sure all of my family members have vacated,” she commented. “What could it be?”
She didn’t wait for the reply. She just touched his arm and muttered a quick “Thanks” before heading off in the direction of the ballroom. When she reached it, most of the lights had been turned out; only the first row of tables was illuminated, and the blue spot on the stage highlighted a lone piano. Jackson and Ben Colson were talking at the front of the empty room. Jackson leaned against the stage.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked as she approached them.
“Emma, have you met Ben?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure,” she said, shaking his hand. “But I’m a big fan of your music.”
“I appreciate that,” he replied, and she couldn’t help but notice what a picture-perfect man he was. The way he tilted his head and smiled, he looked like any one of his album covers. “Do you have a favorite song?”
“A favorite … Pardon?”
“Jackson tells me you didn’t get to hear one song all the way through tonight. We thought you might like to, now.” Emma glanced at Jackson, then back to Ben. “Really?”
“What’s your pleasure?”
“Oh, I just love the classics from your second album. Anything. Really, anything would be great.”
Ben nodded, then he rounded the stage and climbed the stairs.
Jackson smiled at her sweetly, and she shook her head. “Thank you, Jackson. Really. What a nice thing to do.”
On the first note from the piano, Jackson offered his hand. “Dance with me?”
Emma’s heart thumped against her throat and she hesitated only a moment before taking Jackson’s hand and moving into his arms. As Ben Colson serenaded them with “The Way You Look Tonight,” Emma leaned into Jackson and they swayed in perfect sync to the music.
It felt so good there in his arms, and she had the sensation of finally landing somewhere that she’d been struggling to reach for such a very long time. Emma nuzzled her face into his shoulder and closed her eyes, breathing in a deep whiff of the faint spicy wood and citrus that was becoming familiar to her now.
The music came to a gentle end, but the two of them remained in one another’s arms, swaying softly to the silent song in the very large room. After almost a full minute, Colson’s smooth voice began to fill the room again, this time with his bluesy rendition of Van Morrison’s “Crazy Love.” Then came the piano notes to accompany him, and Jackson and Emma still hadn’t missed a single beat. Emma’s eyes were still closed as she imagined that they were dancing somewhere all alone, on a bridge or a mountaintop, and the music lulled them through a pouring rain that washed away everything else on earth except the two of them. Jackson’s arms around her felt like a satin cloak, and the thump of his heartbeat set the back-beat for Ben Colson’s beautiful song.
When Emma opened her eyes again, the stage was empty and the blue spotlight had vanished. With her face still pressed against Jackson’s shoulder, Pearl smiled at her as she moved several plates from a large tray to a table set with lit candles and shimmering glassware.
“Want to try this again?” she asked, and Emma grinned.
Jackson gently eased back from her and then kissed her forehead. �
�I asked Pearl to bring us whatever was left over.”
Keeping his hold on Emma’s hand, he led her toward the table and held out her chair.
“Pearl,” Emma said. “Thank you so much.”
When she noticed two small plates on the table, one with a normal-sized slice of crème brûlée wedding cake and the other with a tiny fraction of a slice, Emma laughed right out loud.
“It’s a masterpiece,” Pearl told her. “You should at least get to taste it.”
Pearl gave them a funny little wave that seemed almost like a salute, and then she disappeared through the door behind the stage.
“This is perfect,” Emma said, and Jackson smiled.
They barely spoke another word as they devoured the dinners set before them. The glances they shared were sporadic at first, and then more rhythmic, and then finally their eyes remained locked without the possibility of breaking away.
“You really look beautiful tonight,” Jackson said at last.
“So do you.”
When the words settled in, they both grinned, and Emma dropped her head as the flush of embarrassment warmed her face and neck. “I mean handsome,” she clarified. “You look really handsome in your tux.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” she teased. “You’re pretty too.”
Jackson groaned, and they both began to laugh.
“Pretty as a picture,” she sang. “Like a life-sized Ken doll.”
“That’s enough out of you,” he warned her. “Or I’m eating your square of cake.”
Emma quickly snatched the plate with the miniscule serving on it and held it close. “Keep your hands off that cake! I’ve been dreaming about this one tiny bite for days on end. And it’s mine, I tell you. All mine.”
Jackson raised his hands in surrender and laughed. “Okay, okay. It’s all yours.”
“You bet it is.”
“Can I get you some coffee with that?” he asked and then broke into a grin. “Maybe hazelnut?”
“Hazelnut!” she gasped, putting on her best Jackson Drake imitation. “Are you obsessed with hazelnut or something? Hazelnut this, and hazelnut that. I just want a plain cup of coffee. Black and strong. Do you hear me? No hazelnut!”
Always the Baker, Never the Bride Page 18
