The Wedding Dance

by Lucy Kevin

  Hopefully, she felt the same way.

  * * *

  Rose and Donovan’s plot had enough space for a huge house and garden, along with the kind of view Phoebe doubted anyone could ever get tired of. Although in her experience, didn’t people always find ways to get tired of everything sooner or later?

  “Phoebe, could you hold this for me?” Patrick passed her a striped ranging pole.

  “Oh, so that’s why you needed me to come out here with you,” Phoebe said, smiling, even as she stepped into some soft, damp dirt. She really wasn’t wearing the right shoes for a muddy building site. “Where do you want me?”

  The answer to that turned out to be lots of different places, with Phoebe leaning against the pole while Patrick took measurements. It wasn’t exactly how she had imagined spending her day, but it was interesting to see the kind of planning that went into a place like this.

  As they worked, Patrick asked her questions about her opinions on the landscaping options. “Do you think we should put in ice plant on the side of the site to stabilize the slope down to the ocean?”

  Phoebe shook her head. “It’s such an aggressive species that it grows over the delicate native flowers. Besides, the roots aren’t deep enough to really stabilize the soil...and I suspect the neighbors won’t be too pleased with a cascading wall of ice plant.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to scare off a delicate flower,” Patrick murmured as he looked around at the site. “Should I plan for putting all the garden space at the front of the house, rather than the ocean side to protect the plants from the sea air?”

  “As long as we stick to local varieties, it shouldn’t be a problem. San Francisco flowers tend not to be quite as delicate as they look.”

  Patrick nodded, his gaze holding on hers a beat too long. “Good to know,” he said, but even as he turned his focus back to the job at hand, she couldn’t seem to get her heart beat to settle down to a normal rhythm around him.

  He was in his element as he discussed layouts and possibilities, options for changing the basic plan, and where the gardens could go. Even as she struggled to keep up in her heels, she had to admit that it was nice to be around someone who was so passionate about what he did.

  “What do you think about putting some pacific coast irises in here?” she suggested, pointing to an area that looked perfect for them.

  Patrick hesitated. After a second or two, Phoebe figured out why. Laughing, she said, “You haven’t got a clue which plants I mean, have you?”

  “Honestly?” Patrick admitted, “I don’t know much about plants, apart from the standard ones.”

  “You really are the black sheep of the family, aren’t you?” she teased. “All those generations of landscapers, including your brother, and you go off to build houses instead.”

  “How did you know I keep a close eye out for relatives waiting to ambush me with wheelbarrows?” They both laughed, but then Patrick said, “Seriously, though, they’ve been great about my breaking the family tradition to create buildings instead of gardens.”

  She couldn’t look away from his strong hands as Patrick packed up his surveying equipment. Were they done already? It seemed like they’d hardly been there any time at all, and Phoebe had really enjoyed spending the day with Patrick.

  More than she could remember enjoying herself with a man in a very long time.

  “I helped out a bit as a kid,” Patrick continued, “but the garden just wasn’t quite where I fit, you know?”

  Phoebe gestured at the nearby houses. “And this is where you fit in?”

  He nodded. “I love to create things. To build something out of nothing.”

  “So what had you turning your focus to homes?” Phoebe asked as Patrick led the way back to the car and put his gear in the trunk.

  “I’ve done a few big offices and public buildings,” he told her, “but I wanted to build things that would have more of an impact on peoples’ day-to-day lives.”

  When was the last time she’d met a man this modest? She knew first hand he’d won an award for “changing the face of the modern city landscapes” because she’d given in to curiosity and looked him up on the internet after returning home from the Rose Chalet the night before.

  All because of one sweet slow dance she couldn’t stop thinking about.

  “Everyone thought I was crazy,” Patrick continued. “They told me that family homes were what you did when you couldn’t get work doing ‘real’ architecture. But residential architecture was what it felt right for me to do.”

  “It sounds like you go a lot by what feels right, don’t you?”

  “All the time,” he agreed. “If you never take risks, you never get any rewards worth having.” His gaze had gone from easy to intense in an instant and Phoebe’s heart pounded in response to his nearness.

  “So now you go around designing houses as a favor to your brother?” Phoebe joked, trying to lighten the mood between them.

  “Actually,” Patrick said, “I was going to ask you about that. Do RJ and Rose get along well?”

  She thought about the way her boss and RJ sometimes seemed as if they were flirting with one another, despite the fact that Rose was engaged to someone else.

  “Yes, they get along. Why do you ask?”

  “I actually didn’t hear about this project until Donovan contacted me. He’d read a piece in Architecture magazine where I was talking about bringing modern ideas to family homes, and we went from there. I didn’t even know there was any connection to my brother at all until he mentioned the Rose Chalet.”

  Phoebe would have thought RJ would have been only too happy to help Rose out by suggesting his brother as architect. Then again, maybe he’d assumed that the Rose Chalet’s owner had everything under control. Rose generally did, after all.

  “What will you do next for the house?” she asked, curious now after seeing what went into the initial architectural planning stages.

  She could tell he was pleased by her interest as he replied, “I’ll spend some time speaking with them to get a better idea of what kind of couple they are. For instance,” he explained, “are they going to be the kind of couple who spend all their time in the kitchen cooking together? If so, I’ll shift the focus of the house so that the kitchen is the central space and the other rooms are less important. Or are they the kind of couple who like to cuddle up together on the sofa watching Sunday football? Are they going to spend all their time hosting friends? Are they going to want their own spaces in the home, or do they do everything together?”

  Phoebe found herself suddenly imagining a home with a large atrium, filled with plants. A home with a nice, warm living room where everything happened, a smaller kitchen, because they’d eat out a lot, and a big bedroom, because they’d be spending a lot of time there. They’d probably need a study, too, so that Patrick could have somewhere to fill up with blueprints and scale models while he…

  Hold on, why was she thinking about Patrick like that?

  And why was it still so darn easy to picture him coming out to the sun-filled atrium bearing coffee while she carefully teased exotic flowers into growing the way she wanted them?

  She was still trying to deal with those very unexpected visions when Patrick said, “I’m glad you came to help with the initial survey of the land, Phoebe. I’d love to take you to dinner. Would you join me?”

  * * *

  Phoebe looked startled by his question, her cheeks flushing beautifully. “You want to go out on a date with me?”

  “I enjoyed dancing with you last night, Phoebe, and I’m enjoying being with you now even more.”

  She took a step back from him, shaking her head as she said, “Last night, dancing, it was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” He frowned, wondering yet again, why she was suddenly so skittish around him after they’d been working together so well for hours. “It definitely didn’t feel like a mistake at the time.”

  He thought he saw momentary indecision move ac
ross her face before she tamped down on it and the light that had been in her eyes all day dimmed slightly. “I don’t think that we’re right for one another, Patrick. Not when we seem to want two very different things out of life.”

  He had to know, “What is it you want out of life?”

  “That’s a serious question for two people who barely know one another.”

  “I’ve already suggested trying to get to know you better over dinner, remember?”

  For a moment or two, it didn’t seem like Phoebe would answer. Finally, she shrugged. “What does anyone want? To be happy. To enjoy my life and love what I’m doing.”

  “From what I’ve seen, you do love your job, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “It’s good. I’ve always liked flowers, and working at the chalet, I get to do more than just produce endless bouquets for guys trying to make up for missing an anniversary or something else they did wrong.”

  He felt as if a window into Phoebe’s heart had just been flung open. “Do you really think that’s the only reason people give each other flowers?” he asked softly.

  “It’s the usual one.”

  “I’ve never given anyone flowers as an apology,” he told her. “Have you ever received them as one?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never gotten flowers from anyone. I guess people think I’ve already got enough with my job.”

  That seemed sad to Patrick. If any woman deserved flowers, if any woman would appreciate them, it was Phoebe. And she of all people ought to see that kind of gesture as more than just a way to make up for mistakes.

  “What does it matter, anyway?” she asked, breaking the sudden silence. “Like I said, all I want is to be happy, and I am. I have friends and a career I love at the Rose Chalet. Why would I want to go complicating that?”

  Patrick could think of all kinds of reasons, but he simply said, “Maybe one day you’ll want more than that.”

  “Maybe.” But it was obvious from the way Phoebe said it that she didn’t believe it, which was quickly confirmed when she said, “Don’t hold your breath.”

  Common sense told him that he should leave it there, but there were times when common sense had to take a back seat to feelings.

  “I’m never going to talk you around to the joys of romance, am I?”

  She shook her head firmly. “I think that’s one area where we’re just going to have to agree to disagree.”

  “Well, I think we’ve certainly got the disagreeing part down.”

  She laughed at his assessment. “I guess we have.”

  “So how about if we go on disagreeing over dinner?”

  Phoebe rolled her eyes. “You aren’t going to let it go, are you?”

  “No,” he said, working up a smile for the beautiful woman in front of him, even though he was as serious as he’d ever been. “I’m not.” Although the truth was, one more no and he was going to have to at least let it go for the time being. “One dinner, Phoebe, as a thank you for your help today. What do you say?”

  Patrick had always believed in the power of hard work and dedication, but that didn’t mean he discounted luck. On the contrary, it had smiled down on him many times in his life...but none better than the moment when Phoebe finally smiled and said, “Let’s eat.”

  Chapter Three

  “Are you sure I shouldn’t stop by my place to change first?” she asked. “I have mud on my shoes. Lots of mud.”

  “I don’t think anyone will mind a little dirt,” Patrick replied, having just gotten off the phone with the restaurant to confirm their arrival in a few minutes. “Besides, you look great.”

  Phoebe smiled, both at the compliment and the thought that, wherever they were going, it wasn’t so serious that they had to dress up for it. She loved dressing up, but at the same time she hated stuffy dates.

  She knew she should be putting the maximum of distance between herself and Patrick. Especially given that from the moment she’d met him, crazy thoughts had been flitting through her usually practical brain, one after the other.

  But she couldn’t deny that he was a gorgeous guy, with whom she had great chemistry. Most important of all, there was a built-in ending to things: as soon as he finished the house he’d be heading back to Chicago.

  Which meant neither of them could possibly make the mistake of getting in too deep.

  With those rationalizations well in place, she wondered, why not allow herself a little fun?

  “So where are we going?” she asked.

  Patrick grinned at her. “Don’t you like surprises?”

  “I like some surprises,” Phoebe said. “To be honest, though, with most guys, the surprise is generally something horrible.”

  “How horrible?” he asked.

  “One guy collected antique dolls and they all sat on his shelves and stared at me. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

  Patrick laughed out loud. “You’ll be glad to hear I don’t have anything like that hidden away.”

  “People always have something hidden away,” Phoebe found herself saying, even though she knew she was revealing far too much to a man she’d just vowed to keep things light and easy with. Which was exactly what she needed to do, starting now. “The same way you’re hiding the restaurant from me now,” she joked.

  “I’ll tell you if you really want to know.”

  “No,” she said, forcing herself to sit back and relax against the leather seat, “you’re right, surprises can be fun.” Although she couldn’t think of the last time any man had bothered to give her a good one.

  As they drove through the city, she silently ran through the list of restaurants she knew. She’d done the first date thing so many times that by now she could tell a lot about a man by the kind of place he chose for the first date. Some went for the fanciest place they could afford, trying to impress her. A few others went for smaller places much closer to them and, in those cases, she always came prepared with enough cash to split the check.

  They seemed to be heading for a spot out by the bay and Phoebe wondered if it was some new place that had sprung up. They parked near a small park with great views out over the bay, where a number of tables were set out for people to eat al fresco style.

  “What is this?”

  Patrick grinned, looking so utterly gorgeous that her heart actually skipped a beat for the first time ever.

  “I heard about the Nomadic Caterer when I was planning my trip to San Francisco. It sounded like a great idea, a restaurant that moves to wherever the owner feels like putting it for the evening. I’ve wanted to try it since I arrived in San Francisco. I just needed the right person to go with.”

  The right person to go with him to a restaurant that never stayed in one place for too long and was always moving on to the next, better, spot? Yes, that definitely sounded like her. She was glad Patrick seemed to see it too.

  It also explained why he wasn’t too bothered by the mud on her shoes. Dining out in the open like this, there was only so much mud you could avoid.

  The outdoor restaurant looked almost magical, having decked the space around it with lights and arranged tables for the best possible sight of the bridge.

  “I have got to tell my friend Julie about this,” Phoebe said as they went over to take their reserved seats. “It’s just the kind of thing she’d love.”

  Patrick raised an eyebrow. “The question is whether it’s the kind of thing you love.”

  “I think I can probably put up with it for the evening,” she said, smiling at him.

  They took a moment or two to order, Phoebe starting with a salad and Patrick choosing the soup. The young man hurried off with their first course orders, while Phoebe looked around at the spot the nomadic caterer had chosen to open up in that night.

  There were flower beds not far from the tables, blue periwinkles and red poppies. “Early friendship and pleasure,” Phoebe murmured aloud.

  Patrick gave her a questioning look. “What was that about friendship a
nd pleasure?”

  “Oh, it’s just ‘language of flowers’ stuff.” Phoebe glanced away briefly when she saw how intent Patrick’s gaze on her was. “It goes with the territory, when you’re a florist. I suppose it’s a bit old fashioned now, but it’s nice to be able to put together a bouquet now and again that has more to it than just a few pretty colors shoved together.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that you have ever ‘shoved together’ an arrangement,” Patrick said as their first course quickly arrived. “If all flowers have meanings, does that mean that you match people to their flowers when you prepare the bouquets for their weddings?”

  “Like an undertaker sizing them up for a coffin,” Phoebe said without thinking. But that was kind of what it was like, wasn’t it? “Honestly though, most of the time it’s just the flowers they like best. Mostly roses and orchids, although I do try to slip a few other things in here and there to make it unique.”

  “What kind of flower would you use to sum yourself up?”

  She was surprised by the depth of his question. “You realize I could just make up anything here, right? Remember that I’ve just spent the day explaining flowers to you.”

  “True.” He leaned forward slightly. “I’m willing to risk it.”

  Phoebe thought for a moment or two. If they were playing that game, what should she say? The orchid, for beauty and refinement? That would probably make Patrick smile, and he’d already proved several times that evening that he had a gorgeous smile. Maybe one of the roses?

  But, for some reason, she couldn’t give him the off-hand, meaningless answer.

  “Probably the pasque flower.” It was the symbol sent to show that a lover had no claim on her. Yes, perfect.

  When Patrick looked blank for a moment or two, Phoebe winced theatrically before saying, “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

  “RJ wonders that occasionally too,” he said, and then, “Tell me about the flower.”

  Why hadn’t she just given him the playful answer? It was what she normally did with men, after all.

  Unfortunately, it seemed Patrick wasn’t like any other man she’d been with.