One Love for Liv
Page 18
Once Martina finished my thorough dressing-down in front of most of her guests, not to mention all three of my staff members, she proceeded to simply walk away and politely smile, as if she were merely commenting on the weather, not condemning my best hors d’oeuvres as garbage. I wanted to disappear right there, into her spotless Italian marble floor.
This party was supposed to be my big moment. A client like Martina held parties like this all the time, according my best friend, Stephanie Monroe-Jennings. I’m embarrassed to say Steph got me this gig in the first place.
In her opinion, if I got in good with Martina and all of her well-to-do friends, it could really put Carrie’s Creative Catering on the map.
Now utterly humiliated, if I didn’t escape to some quiet place soon, then everyone here would be witness to my childish reaction to Martina’s insult. That’s when I all but ran into Tyler Bennedict’s arms.
The second he smiled at me with a little lopsided grin, the first warning whistle along the path to my destruction blew. It would be the first of many to come from that fast moving train headed my way, warning me of the disaster waiting ahead if I was foolish enough to listen to my heart. I was.
“Don’t listen to her. Martina doesn’t know what she’s talking about most of the time. These just happen to be the best crab puffs I ever tasted. And, if I’d known the Carrie of Carrie’s Creative Catering was this talented, not to mention beautiful, I would have booked your services long ago.”
Damn, he was good! Charming, sweet and unbelievably handsome. All the things that made me push aside my first uneasy feelings about him and ignore those whistles going off inside my head.
What did it hurt to simply talk to the man? He was a guest. I couldn’t go around pissing off the guests now could I? And besides, he was gorgeous.
I took a moment to assess his gorgeousness; from the dark brown hair, streaked with highlights no salon could perfect—those babies came from spending lots of time outdoors—past laughing blue eyes, down to the perfect male nose. The only hint of imperfection I could find in him was a tiny little bump at the bridge of his nose. After a second glance, I decided it gave him character. The icing on the cake came when he smiled at me again, revealing two charmingly boyish dimples. Clearly, the man loved to smile.
I returned his smile, Martina’s nasty little comments all but forgotten. This was one great looking guy. Where exactly had he come from anyway and why hadn’t I spotted him earlier?
Suddenly it seemed as if it was just the two of us in this crowded room. Like some old romance movie. He looked at me as if I were the only woman in the world. Later I would come to understand the reason behind this look.
“Carrie, do you want me to serve the desserts now?” Allison Richmond, my right hand woman, had apparently been asking this same question for quite some time, if the annoyance in her voice was any indication. The world around me came back into sharp focus the second I got a good look at Allie’s smirk. Belinda and Janet, the two high school girls who worked part-time for me were practically drooling over Tyler.
I forced myself to remember why I was at this party in the first place. I wasn’t one of the rich guests. I was the hired help. Somehow, I untangled my gaze from Handsome Guy and faced the woman who had been with me for almost as long as Carrie’s Creative Catering had been in existence.
“Yes, Allie that’s a good idea and I’ll help you.” I turned back for one more look—what did it hurt—just to make sure the gorgeous man I’d just encountered was actually real and not part of some twisted fantasy, cooked up by my deprived body simply because I was currently in the middle of what must be a world-class sexual dry spell. I blushed as I imagined breaking the dry spell with him and stammered to cover up my overactive imagination. “I should go. I do have work to do after all.”
Then he smiled again and I forgot everything I’d been about to say. Forgot Allie, the dessert and Martina entirely. This was one dangerous man. He could make me forget just about everything, including the fact that my relationship with David began just this innocently.
“I understand, but maybe you’d consider having dinner with me sometime?”
I looked around the room. Am I the only one hearing those whistles?
“Did you hear that?” His only answer was another little grin. At least he’s finding me amusing.
I stalled again, trying to recover some of my composure. “I don’t know. I don’t even know your name. You might be anybody.”
“Tyler Bennedict, and I’m not anybody. I’m just a guy asking you out to dinner. Will you have dinner with me on Saturday night?”
“Carrie, are you coming?” Allie’s less than patient voice reminded me this was a job, not a place to pick up men.
“Right, Allie, yes, I’m coming.” I turned back to Tyler as levelheaded Carrie tried to convince in-lust Carrie to refuse flat out. Save herself the heartache. But the word “no” just would not come out of my mouth.
Mr. Right Now meets Ms. Forever. Some matches take a lot of work.
Marrying Max
© 2007 Nell Dixon
Max Richardson doesn’t do commitment. But he will do anything to persuade his sister to let him provide a stable home for his niece, Emily, while her parents try to work through their marriage problems. Including renting a country cottage, hiring a nanny and—um—acquiring a fake fiancée.
Thea Sinclair had to give up her dreams of marriage and children when she came home to nurse her father through his last illness. She’s prepared to be Max’s landlady, housekeeper and Emily’s nanny. She’s not prepared for him to persuade her into a pretend engagement—or to find pretence becoming reality as she starts to fall in love with a man who’s sworn off marriage forever.
This book has been previously published in print form, and is the winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association category length Romance Prize 2007.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Marrying Max:
The white Adams-style fireplace had a collection of shells, feathers and tiny fairy dolls on the mantelpiece. The bookshelves were crammed with photographs and trinkets as well as books. Most of the photographs were of Thea as a little girl—smiling at the seaside, skipping in the garden, eating an ice cream at a fair. Others showed her with her parents, grinning confidently at the camera. The later pictures had Thea alone or with her father. Max wondered what had happened to her mother.
The conversation with Julia a few minutes earlier had not gone well. She had seemed preoccupied with joining Paul in Singapore and hadn’t appeared at all convinced the arrangements Max had made for Emily would work. In desperation, he had fudged the truth a little in an attempt to convince her.
“Thea’s house is perfect for Emily, Julia. She’s a nursery teacher and really good with kids.”
“I’m sure she is, but it’s you I’m more concerned about. How do I know the minute I’m on that plane you won’t be rushing back off to the city and Gabby or one of the other women you might be seeing?”
Max bit his tongue at the implication in his sister’s tone that he was some kind of irresponsible womanizer. “Thea is a very special person and I love Emily. I’d never make an arrangement involving her that wouldn’t work.”
His sister latched onto the first six words in his sentence: Thea is a very special person. “Wait, does this mean you’ve finally met a woman you might settle down with at last?” The tone of her voice changed and in a weak moment Max blurred the truth. Suddenly after a few more questions, she seemed much more willing to bring Emily to Stony Gables.
The snag was, she now thought there was a relationship between himself and Thea. Why was nothing in life simple? What difference did it make to the arrangements for Emily anyway? He would never for the life of him be able to understand women. Thinking furiously, Max pulled the laptop back towards himself. Once he’d got his work sorted out he would go and find Thea and inform her of the extra request he now had for his stay at Stony Gables.
Thea was a little
surprised to see Max coming down the path towards her vegetable garden carrying two mugs of tea. Immersed in her weeding while the ground was still soft, she had forgotten she had a guest. Straightening up, she wiped her muddy hands on the back of her jeans and took the drink from him gratefully.
“I thought you might like a cup of tea. That looks like thirsty work.” He nodded at the half-filled barrow of weeds.
“Mmm, the warm weather and rain showers have made everything shoot up.” She took a sip of her tea. “Did you get your computer all set up?”
“Yes, no problems at all. Thank you.”
Thea looked down at her grimy hands and nails. “I’d better finish off soon and try and clean up if I’m to look respectable for tonight.”
Max followed her gaze. “I don’t suppose there’s a manicurist around here?”
“DIY only,” she said and swallowed the last of her tea. Max took the empty mug from her and she expected him to go back up to the house, but he appeared to be rooted to the end of her row of runner beans.
“Did you want something?” She picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow, ready to move her load to the compost heap. He raised his free hand and scratched the back of his head, a faintly embarrassed expression appearing on his face.
“I, er, spoke to my sister earlier.”
Warily, Thea set down the handles of the barrow. Please don’t let her have changed her mind. “Was everything all right?”
Max definitely looked sheepish now and appeared reluctant to meet her gaze. “Fine. That is, she’s still coming and she seems happier about leaving Emily with me now, but…” He broke off with a forceful sigh, and looked straight at Thea. “It’s just she—and I swear it wasn’t really anything I said—but she thinks we’re a couple.”
Thea knew she was staring but her brain struggled to take in what he had just said. “What do you mean, she thinks we’re a couple? How can it not be something you said?”
“I said you were a very nice person and she took it the wrong way.”
“Then why didn’t you put her right?”
Max squirmed like a fish on a hook. He reminded her of Tom when he had been caught out doing something he shouldn’t.
“I should have, I know, and I’m sorry. But she just was so much happier about Emily staying here when she thought you and I were engaged.”
“Engaged!” The word came out as an incredulous squeak. Thea sank down on the low stone wall which bordered the vegetable garden. “If Ginny hadn’t vouched for you I would swear you were insane! You let your sister believe we’re not only a couple but that we’re engaged?” She searched his face for some sign that the whole thing was some kind of joke, but his serious demeanour told her he wasn’t.
He sat on the wall next to her. “I’m sorry, Thea. But Emily needs some stability so much at the moment and Julia was never entirely happy about her staying with me.” He wriggled uncomfortably on the cold stone. “It’s my own fault in a way. Julia and I had such a miserable childhood. Our parents fought constantly and we were the weapons.” A dull red flush crept above the collar of his shirt and he dug his thumbnail into a clump of moss on the coping stone. “I told you earlier, I don’t believe in marriage. I would never want a child of mine to go through what I went through. That’s why when I see Emily suffering I just want to protect her while Julia and Paul sort themselves out.” He shot her a sidelong glance, appearing uncomfortable at sharing so much with a virtual stranger.
“I haven’t got a good longevity record with relationships. I don’t want anything permanent or serious. Julia thinks this means I don’t have the commitment needed to care for Emily while she’s away.”
“And do you?” Thea interrupted. “Do you have the commitment?”
His dark brown eyes met hers for a long moment and her pulse speeded up while her face warmed under the intensity of his gaze.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make Emily happy.”
“Even lie to her mother?” Thea questioned.
His face clouded and he stood abruptly. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking of. When she gets here I’ll tell her the truth.”
He turned on his heel and marched away back up towards the house. Thea sighed and took hold of the wheelbarrow handles again. Today certainly hadn’t turned out to be one of your average days. It wasn’t every day you got engaged then dumped by a virtual stranger all before the six o’clock news.
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