“Not too many, love,” Evelyn called.
“I know, I know. I’ll eat some green stuff, too.” But Gus winked at Grace as he grumbled and then leaned forward as though to impart some wisdom. “She’s always pushing me to eat green stuff. But I really only like it when I grow it myself. You didn’t by any chance create a green-free menu?”
Grace laughed at his hopeful look. “I’m afraid not. But since Julia is a French-inspired chef, it’s all been cooked in lots of butter.”
Gus’s eyes lit up as he called over his shoulder to his wife. “I’ll eat some green veggies when they come out, dear.”
Evelyn smiled. “It’s a celebration. Try everything, just don’t overdo it.”
Gus went back to stand with her, the two of them drawing Mallory into a conversation about a guest they wanted her to meet. Owen moved closer to Grace, hovering by her side, not touching, but close enough.
She got another whiff of him and tried to take only shallow breaths. “My dad had a heart attack at the end of last year.” His voice was low in her ear, his breath warm on her neck. “She’s still worried.”
“Of course she is,” Grace murmured. Mallory had excused herself and left Gus and Evelyn standing together, their heads almost touching as they whispered and smiled. Grace had known them for only a couple of minutes and already she could see how in love they were. It would be hard to recover from losing a love like that. Her heart skipped a beat. Of course, she had to find a man she liked enough to go on a second date with—okay, fine, a first date—before she jumped ahead to love and marriage and a lifetime of togetherness. “That must have been hard.”
“It was. For all of us.”
Grace tilted her head to look at him. His mouth was close to hers and she knew she should step back, but she was afraid she’d bump the table. Yeah, right. The table. That was what was holding her in place. “He looks good.” But she didn’t turn her head toward Gus. She was caught in Owen’s gaze.
“He does.” Owen reached out to brush a strand of hair off her neck. Grace felt the sharp buzz of attraction race through her. “He’s doing well.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” And although she hadn’t known Gus Ford even an hour ago as anything more than the founder of the family company and father to Owen and Donovan, she was glad. Grace didn’t always understand her own parents and she knew they didn’t understand her, but despite their sometimes contentious relationship, she loved them and would be devastated if they fell ill.
“Thanks.” Owen brushed the side of her neck again, though Grace was pretty sure that the strand of hair wasn’t there anymore. She knew she should mind, should take that step back, table or not, and remind both Owen and herself that their relationship was strictly business. She didn’t move.
“And how are you handling it?” Her voice was soft.
“Fine. Most of the time.” He shrugged and moved closer. She could feel his body heat radiating through her thick silk dress, could imagine the hard bunch of his muscles beneath that stylish summer suit. “Maybe you want to hug me? Make it all better?”
And just like that the moment dissolved and washed away on the realization that Owen wasn’t serious. Not about anything. Grace took that step away and didn’t bump the table. “Nice try.”
Owen grinned. If he weren’t so charming, he’d be obnoxious. Actually, she bet he could be obnoxious despite that overabundance of charm. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She could, but she didn’t. Instead, she pretended that one of her employees was calling her through her earpiece and excused herself from the little family grouping, but she risked a glance over her shoulder as she strode away and saw Owen watching her go, a sleepy appreciation in his eyes.
Grace didn’t want to find him appealing. Not with his insouciant manner, his casual attitude toward most things and his bright green sneakers. But she did. She made herself keep walking as a quiet ache unfurled in her chest.
CHAPTER FIVE
INTERESTING. OWEN WATCHED Grace walk away, that silver dress catching each curve as she moved.
She wasn’t as convinced that their relationship should be strictly platonic as she wanted him to think. And he didn’t need Mal as his wingman.
Owen smiled. No, he was doing just fine on his own. Just fine, indeed.
So fine that he was still grinning like a fool when his lookout texted him that Donovan and Julia had finally arrived. Owen gathered the family by the front door, wanting to give the happy couple a proper greeting.
Julia entered just slightly ahead of Donovan. Her eyes brightened when she saw him. “Owen.”
Owen grinned wider. He’d lied and told them that he wanted them to come try a few new items he was considering adding to the menu. Because the taste-testing of food was always guaranteed to get chef Julia out.
She noticed the rest of the family around him and then stopped, causing Donovan to bump into the back of her.
“Not that I’m complaining—” Donovan slipped an arm around his fiancée’s waist “—but what’s the holdup?”
“Happy engagement.” Owen hugged his almost sister-in-law, whom he liked better than his brother most days.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Donovan asked, offering exhibit A as to why—though they’d admittedly come a long way in the past nine or so months since their father’s heart attack.
“Donovan, look.” Julia pointed to the glittering room in front of them.
Donovan’s eyebrows lifted.
“Happy engagement,” Owen said again as the family collapsed into a round of cheerful welcomes and surprised hugs.
And Julia deserved nothing less. She was already part of the family as far as Owen and the rest of the family were concerned. She’d been a good friend to Owen and softened his brother’s occasionally harsh attitude, though Owen had come to appreciate all that Donovan did as the company CEO and now realized that what he’d sometimes seen as harsh was simply part of running a profitable business. Something he never would have considered a year ago.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” Julia said as she linked her arm through Owen’s. “And kept it a secret from me.” She gave him a good-natured swat with her free hand.
“If I’d told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Which earned him a warm laugh.
“You did good,” Donovan told him, which from him was high praise.
“I had help.”
Julia squeezed his arm. “A certain attractive blonde wedding planner who I see on the other side of the room?”
“She’s the one.” And when he looked over, spotting Grace in her pretty dress, he felt his breath catch. Very interesting. Apparently, his body thought he’d gone too long without a date. Owen couldn’t disagree.
“Don’t tell me you hit on our wedding planner.” Donovan popped one of the spicy shrimp into his mouth and chewed. “We need her.”
“Fine. I didn’t hit on her.” Which was technically the truth. He’d politely asked her on a date, which was a far cry from sidling up to her in a dim bar and asking if it hurt when she fell from heaven. Not that he’d ever done that. No, not him.
Now, asking if she believed in love at first sight or if he should walk by again, yes. But come on. That line was a classic.
“And why would it be so bad if he flirted with her?” Julia asked. “He’s a good catch.”
Owen appreciated her support even though he was perfectly capable of holding his own with Donovan. “Julia? Remind me again why you’re marrying this guy instead of running off for a weekend in Paris with me.”
“Because she’s already run off to Paris. With me.” Donovan plucked his soon-to-be bride from Owen’s side and gave her a heated kiss.
Owen waited until they came up for air. “Aren’t you supposed to wait for us to clink spoons against the si
des of our glasses before you do that?”
“Jealous?” Donovan put his arm around Julia.
“Yes.” And he was, though not of Julia in particular. It was more that he missed having someone by his side at functions, a date for dinner, someone to go on vacation with. Not that he had time for vacations these days.
Julia disentangled herself from Donovan to give Owen another hug. “Thank you for this.”
Owen peeked over her head at his brother, who was watching them with a lazy smile. “See? This is why she’s listed first on the invite and you’re the plus one.”
Donovan’s smile turned into a laugh. “As long as I’m her plus one.”
Owen felt another catch in his chest. Not that he was looking for anything as serious as marriage, but there were times—not many, but they were there—that he felt a little envious of his brother. It wasn’t that long ago that Donovan had seemed as uninterested in marriage as Owen. More so, seeing as he had fewer girlfriends. And look at him now.
Julia gave Owen one last squeeze and returned to Donovan’s side, grabbing his hand. “You coming?” she asked over her shoulder.
“In a minute,” Owen said. He watched them go, greeting guests and accepting congratulations as they moved deeper into the room. But his eyes didn’t stay on them for long.
Instead, he watched Grace. Even her movements were elegant—a flick of her wrist as she straightened a tablecloth, the stride that made it look as if she was gliding across the floor, the turn of her head as she angled for a peek at something in the corner. This time the catch was in more than his chest. He headed toward her, then stopped.
She was working and he shouldn’t interrupt that. He made a hard right and integrated himself into a group of family friends in the restaurant industry who wanted to chat about some of the changes he’d made at Elephants, but his eyes tracked Grace as she wound her way through the room. A polite smile was on her face, her eyes alert for anything that needed her attention.
He wondered how he could get her to focus that attention on him.
* * *
BY THE TIME the party started to wind down, Grace’s feet were screaming, but she kept her smile in place. All part of the service.
Even so, as Donovan and Julia left and the rest of the guests followed suit, Grace let her smile slip just slightly. Not enough that anyone would notice, but just so that her cheeks didn’t hurt as much as her feet. Thank God she’d resisted the urge to wear higher heels as she often did at these shorter functions, which generally didn’t require quite as much running around.
Her team unfastened the lights from the trees, used the ladder to unhook the faux chandeliers from the ceiling and packed up the centerpieces and tablecloths. Grace helped, checking everything off her list as she did. They’d put everything that was owned by the company in storage tomorrow. They had a large room in the office building lined with shelves, each one labeled and cross-referenced on a master list that they used to check things in and out, so if something went missing they could figure out where and when it had last been seen.
Grace had ordered the trees and chandeliers from a local design company and had arranged for them to be picked up tonight, since she had nowhere to store them. The driver was quick, placing everything inside and grunting when Grace thanked him. She felt like grunting herself. And she might have except it felt as if it would take too much effort.
She saw her team off, told them to come in late tomorrow as they’d earned the time. She, of course, would be at the office bright and early but that was part of being the boss. She didn’t have the luxury of taking time off, not when she was so close to completing her five-year plan.
She returned to the bar, eyes scanning the room for anything they might have missed, and relished the deep quiet that followed a loud party. Some of the knots in her shoulders loosened. The place was empty. Just one final walkthrough of the room and she’d be off, too. Home to the cool comfort of her Egyptian cotton sheets and the restful sleep that always followed a busy weekend.
“Can I offer you a drink?”
She turned. She’d known it was Owen even before that warm voice had curled around her as gently as those Egyptian sheets, but her pulse gave a hearty thump when she saw him standing behind her. She’d known he was still around, waiting to lock up. But the physical reaction, the pull from her core, caught her off guard.
“Thank you, but I should go.” The room looked much as it had when she’d arrived this afternoon to set up. No reason for her to stay.
“Not even one drink? To toast to a job well done? Celebrate your success?”
Grace hesitated. Going home was what she always did, what she expected of herself. But it had been a good night. A great night. Everything had gone smoothly, the bride and groom were happy and she’d worked really hard. Didn’t she deserve a moment to revel in it? Wasn’t that what her mom was always telling her? That she not follow all of society’s rules but create some of her own? Not that having a quick drink was exactly rule-breaking, but it wasn’t part of Grace’s usual routine.
She looked around the room again. It was just the two of them. They’d both worked hard tonight and there was no reason to deny him the acknowledgment of that. “Okay, but only one.” She said it quickly before she changed her mind. It was a drink. That was all. Hardly life-changing. She sat down at one of the empty booths and sank into the soft leather cushion, her body exhaling in relief as she took the weight off her beleaguered feet.
“What’s your pleasure?” Owen called as he moved behind the bar. “Wine? Beer? Something a little stronger?”
Grace exhaled again, sinking a little farther into the booth’s back. Normally, she would have requested water. To go. “Wine would be nice.” If she was going to break routine, she might as well go all out.
Owen nodded. “Red or white?”
“White. If it’s open.” She watched as he bent down, then straightened with a bottle in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. Before she could even open her mouth to say it wasn’t that important, he had the cork out with a few quick turns and a flick of the wrist. And it would be rude to say anything after he’d opened it and poured her a glass.
He stowed the bottle and carried over a pair of glasses. “Cheers.” They clinked.
As Grace lifted the glass to her lips, she noticed Owen staring at her, unmoving. She lowered the glass. “Yes?”
“You can’t break eye contact before sipping. Clink again.”
“Owen.” She’d heard the old tale before, too. Looking away brought bad luck. In bed.
“Do you really want to risk it?”
“I’m not superstitious,” she told him, not moving her glass. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was getting any, and she seriously doubted it had anything to do with clinking and maintaining eye contact.
“Neither am I.” He brought his glass to hers, gently tapped and then opened his eyes wider as he sipped.
Grace sipped, too. “Ridiculous.”
“And yet, you didn’t break eye contact.”
The wine tasted amazing after her work-heavy weekend. A small treat, since she hadn’t had time to do anything except make sure everyone else was enjoying the party. That and Pilates.
“Thank you.” She focused on Owen, who was still far too handsome for her own comfort. And yet, she found herself checking him out more closely. Like a trainer observing a thoroughbred. Good teeth. Nice hair. Excellent bloodlines.
“See anything you like?” And there was the rub. She did. She saw so much.
“Just the wine.” She lifted her glass, pretended that there was nothing else making her temperature rise.
“You sure about that?” He slid across the seat toward her. “I’m willing to play a little show-and-tell if it’ll help.”
“It won’t.” But the back of her neck grew hot and she w
as glad her hair was still up.
He edged closer. “Maybe we should kiss and find out.”
“No.” Even as her mind lingered on what kind of kisser Owen might be. Experienced. Confident. With flashes of humor that poked through unexpectedly. Her stomach did a long, slow flip.
“Kiss and make up? Kiss and get it over with? Grace...” He pasted on a concerned expression. “You’re going to have to work with me here.”
She bit back her smile. He wasn’t the type you could encourage unless it was all part of your game. Grace Monroe didn’t play games. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to sell your charms elsewhere.”
“Well, now I’m offended.” He didn’t look offended with that devilish glint in his eyes. “Implying that I’m a common streetwalker when, clearly, I would be a high-dollar escort.”
Her smile threatened to break through again.
“There’s really only one thing to be done.”
“Oh?” She shouldn’t be enjoying this—his overt flirting, the way he seemed to shift a little closer to her with each breath.
“I’m deeply hurt. We’ll have to kiss and make it better.”
“Owen.” Her easy enjoyment slipped away, replaced by the practical side that knew better.
He inched closer. His thigh pressed against hers. “Come on, Grace. Just one kiss. And then you can slap my face and tell me never to touch you again.”
Except she knew she wouldn’t do that. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to see what he tasted like, feel his body pressed against hers. It wasn’t part of her five-year plan, but she wanted it anyway. When she didn’t brush him away, he lifted his hand to her hair and slid out one of the pins in her updo.
One lock tumbled down, brushing the side of her neck. She knew if she pulled away and tucked the hair back into her twist, Owen would follow suit. He’d lean back, too, and they’d talk about the party and sip their wine and pat themselves on the back for a job well done.
One More Night Page 7
