The heavy double oak doors with their stained-glass inserts were beautiful and trumpeted to the visitor that you were somewhere special. A butler opened the door—Oh, my, Mary has a real butler now?—and ushered her into a beautiful foyer, rich with mosaic flooring and crystal chandelier lighting. Such a contrast to Noelia’s small, neat home with its lovingly tended gardens.
She was shown into the large, oak-paneled parlor by Mrs. Patrowski, the Atwells’ pernickety housekeeper, who was as dour as ever, and gratefully accepted a glass of wine from one of the servers Mary had hired for the occasion. She took a deep, calming gulp of the exquisite ruby red wine, and looked around to admire the expensive flocked wallpaper, the soaring ceilings with lovely moldings, all a perfect setting for surprisingly casual furniture groupings that turned the room into a home for real people.
As she looked around, she took another sip of the delicious wine and almost choked on it when she spotted Nate across the room. He was deep in conversation with Troy Matthews, Mary’s husband, but his head came up as if he felt her look. Their gazes met, and then he glanced away.
Disappointment shot through Noelia, an emotion that surprised her. Why should she care if the grumpy man looked right through her as if she didn’t exist?
Mary spotted her newly arrived guest and sailed across the expensive Persian carpeting to hug her and whisper in her ear. “Oh, you’ll just love who I’ve got you sitting next to tonight!”
Noelia’s heart sank. She had a pretty good idea who Kelly’s aunt-in-law had her sitting next to in another of her matchmaking attempts. Even so, when the dinner gong rang, she was surprised by the tingle that ran along her arm when Nate slipped his hand on her elbow to escort her into the dining room.
She noticed how handsome he looked in a black velvet jacket and snow white collarless shirt. He courteously seated her and took his own place next to her but didn’t seem inclined to chat.
Noelia decided to take the bull by the horns and tackle Mary’s scheming head on. “Just so you know, Mary Atwell is notorious for trying to set up her single friends. Pay no attention—we all just humor her and go on our merry way.”
Nate was silent for a moment as the server placed hot bowls of delicious consommé in front of them. Taking a sip or two, he patted his mouth with his napkin and then turned to Noelia.
“Yes, this isn’t the first time she’s tried to push me down the aisle with one of her friends.”
“So how do you avoid her?”
“I tell her quite firmly that I’m not looking to marry again. It doesn’t stop her, but at least we all know where we stand.”
Noelia’s stomach plummeted. Even though she would have sworn she wasn’t looking for romance, she was disappointed to hear Nate say so directly that he wasn’t interested. But his next words floored her.
“You must have been very embarrassed in the café today when that woman tackled you.”
As often happens at such events, there was a sudden silence as the ten guests and their hosts enjoyed the first course. Nate’s words dropped into the silence like a hefty boulder into a quiet lake and all eyes turned to Noelia.
She felt the ripples of curiosity spreading out toward her and knew her face was turning as red as the roses in the elaborate table centerpiece. Kelly, who was sitting opposite Noelia, gave a mischievous grin. “So, my dear friend, tell us what happened to you in the hospital café? Were you and the other woman fighting over the last blueberry muffin?”
“Yes, do tell, Noelia. Seems like we’re seeing a whole new side of you, getting into fights in a public place.” Mary’s voice was light, but her words contained a censure, which made Noelia bristle.
“If you all must know—remember the painter, Marco? The one you, Mary, hired to paint Wedding Bliss?”
“Oh, surely, yes. A dear man, and very accommodating.”
Someone snickered, and Noelia saw Nate glare at the offender.
“Well, I promised him I’d help him with his Italian-language skills. He’s taking his wife to Italy for their anniversary, and he wants to impress her by being able to speak the language. Especially as he hopes to see some cousins they have there.” Conscious that Nate was watching her closely, she continued. “It seems Marco was so determined to surprise his wife that he didn’t tell her about our meetings for Italian classes. Somehow word got back to Marianna and she got the wrong idea.”
“In fact, she accused Noelia of being a home-wrecker,” Nate said, his smile mischievous, drawing gasps from their listeners. Noelia’s heart sank. Obviously, Nate had witnessed the whole event.
“My goodness, Noelia, she did that in public?” Mary was horrified. “That’s just not proper behavior at all!”
Noelia took a deep breath in and let it out. “Actually, she did more than that. She came across the cafeteria, screaming at Marco and at me in front of all the people there. Then she picked up a glass of water from another table, and, well, she poured the whole glass over my head.”
The room went silent, until Sasha, ever fashion-conscious, chimed in. “So that’s why your hair looks like it was styled by a punk rocker!”
• • •
Nate felt like an idiot. How could he have so easily believed someone like Noelia would be involved with a married man? He felt like slapping himself on the side of the head for not coming to her rescue and getting that mess sorted out before Marianna and Marco stormed out leaving Noelia to face the judgmental stares of the other café patrons. He’d always prided himself on being a gentleman, and he’d let this lovely lady down.
Once the friendly teasing about Noelia’s “home-wrecking” and her punk hairstyle had died down, the dinner guests moved on to other topics, and Noelia and Nate managed to hold a friendly conversation.
Nate was delighted to find they had so much in common. The meal turned into a pleasant evening, and when, after coffee in Mary’s elegant lounge, Noelia said she was leaving, Nate offered to walk her to her car.
They said their goodbyes and thanked their host and hostess, then walked out into the cool spring night. The air was full of the scents of the sea, which foamed against the piers not far away from the Atwell mansion, and of the newly opened flowers in Mary’s carefully manicured gardens. Nate drank in the scents and the soft spring evening air and was enveloped in an unexpected sense of peace as they strolled in companionable silence.
There’s no need to make small talk, he thought. I feel as though I’ve known Noelia all my life. Been waiting for her all my life . . . and was hit with an instant barb of betrayal for his late wife.
They paused alongside Noelia’s Escape, she with the key in her hand, reluctant to open the door that would end this time together, he with his hands firmly in his pockets as if he was afraid they’d act without his permission.
Their eyes met as they studied each other, each a little afraid to make a move until Nate, with a sigh, opened his arms and Noelia stepped into them, welcoming the light kiss he dropped on her lips. When she responded, he grew bolder, capturing her mouth, savoring the taste of her, wanting more but content to follow the signals she gave. Nate released her mouth and nuzzled her neck, breathing in the light perfume she wore. He must ask her what that was, because he was sure he would always remember the scent and associate it with these delightful moments in time.
Finally, she lifted her head and gazed shyly into his eyes. “Nate . . . it’s been a long time since I, well, since I was in a relationship. I’m kind of out of practice at kissing, or, well, anything.”
His heart pounded so loudly he was sure she could hear it. Before he gave into the temptation to capture that sensuous mouth again, he murmured, “You’re the first woman I’ve kissed—or even wanted to kiss—in a long time. And seriously, Noelia, that kiss was, well, unbelievable.”
Then he held her tightly as their mouths met and melded until, finally, they heard the other dinner guests taking their leave, and they broke apart.
“I hope I can see you again?” Nate quietly asked as Noelia climb
ed into her car and started the engine.
“I’d like that.” Noelia smiled up at him.
And he closed the door and stood watching as she drove away, marveling at the strange, light-hearted feeling that lifted his spirits.
That night, as he tossed and turned in bed, Nate was teased by thoughts of Noelia and that dynamite kiss they’d shared. He was torn—he had been so sure he would never want another lover after Jackie’s death, and yet there was no doubt that Noelia had changed those feelings. What of her, though? She had obviously loved her husband—according to Mary Atwell, she’d been a widow with no other man in her life for a long time. Was she going to welcome his hopes of a relationship? He caressed his lips, where he could still feel the sweet pressure of her mouth on his, and said a silent prayer that she would.
He was half awake, half asleep, when he heard noises downstairs. It took him a few moments to decide if the noises were real or a figment of his dozing brain, but he came fully awake and could still hear the slam of his filing cabinet drawers.
Someone was in his home office, riffling through his confidential patient files! If there was one thing a therapist dreads, it was the idea that someone might get hold of those files; confidentiality was a sacred trust to therapists. He knew his patients’ innermost secrets could be used against them, or displayed for the general population to see, perhaps even on social media.
Nate shuddered and climbed out of bed. Honey, the family hound, whined as he pulled a pair of jeans on over his boxers. “Come on, Honey, get off the nice warm bed. This could be your time to shine as canine heroine of the family.” Nate grabbed a baseball bat that leaned against a night table for such a moment as this.
But the dog just wagged her tail and slowly, reluctantly, followed Nate as far as the door, then hung back. He crept down the carpeted hall to peer over the stair rail. A dim light shone from the partially closed office door, probably a flashlight. Something was definitely going on down there.
He knew he should call the police, but the only landline connection he had was in the office, and dammit, he’d also left his cell phone on his office credenza to charge. Maybe he should just shout something like, Is anyone there? And hope the burglar would flee. But what if the intruder took some of the client information with him?
No, there was nothing else to do but confront whoever was there. Maybe it was one of his therapy clients feeling insecure—didn’t they all?—and planning to take back any notes or tapes Nate had made of their sessions. Assuring himself he had the element of surprise, he trod the thick stair carpet noiselessly and moved along to the partially open office door.
With a quick movement like the police used in the crime shows he watched, he kicked the door fully open and stormed in with the baseball bat held threateningly high.
The room was empty.
The light faded as he stood there.
Upstairs, Honey howled.
Nate took a deep breath and flicked on the room light switch. It took only a moment to scour the small office space and see that he was entirely alone. So where had the light come from?
His heart hammered as he saw the filing cabinet drawers all standing open. Then, as he watched, the four drawers closed one after the other, as if they were closing themselves.
This can’t be happening. Am I dreaming? Maybe there had been a minor earthquake—unusual for this location, but that would probably explain the seemingly inexplicable movement of the drawers.
What it wouldn’t explain was the small pile of files, positioned in a fan-like shape, on top of his desk. He sure as hell hadn’t left them there, and as far as he knew, earthquakes didn’t tidy up after themselves. As he leaned over the desk to check, he saw the names on the files in a seemingly random fashion: Naylor, Ortega, Edwards, Lindstrom, Irwin, Adams.
Only one of these was a current client, none had anything in common with the others, and none would have been so insecure as to try to rob his home in the middle of the night to read his notes. They’d all have been more likely to call him and demand that he hand over their files. If this had been a client worried about their privacy, surely they would have taken the files they wanted with them. Or if there had been some nefarious intent, such as blackmail, the same thing applied.
Puzzled and discomforted, Nate went back to bed, where Honey greeted him like a long-lost friend. “Fine guard dog you are,” he told her, rubbing her soft fur. Dawn was beginning to light the sky as exhaustion finally claimed him. Just as he fell asleep his brain conjured up the fan-shaped display of files and the first letters of each client name. Naylor, Ortega, Edwards, Lindstrom, Irwin. Adams.
N-O-E-L-I-A. Noelia.
Chapter Nine
Noelia arrived at Wedding Bliss feeling bright and happy the following workday after a Sunday spent at church, in her garden, and thinking of Nate. And his kisses.
Humming to herself, she made coffee and set out mugs for when Kelly and Sasha arrived for work. Her lips, no, her entire body still sizzled from that kiss, and she’d lain awake long into the night, thinking about Nate and her attraction to him.
“And it looks like it’s mutual!” she told her reflection in the mirror over the bathroom sink as she brushed her hair and checked her makeup. After all, who knew who would wander into the store, and it was worth looking your best.
That’s what this blue feeling has been all about, she realized. I was lonely and needed more than work, church, and my writing in my life. A life of my own. An impossible lightness filled her, and she hummed an old love song from the seventies, dancing and flicking a feather duster around displays in the store as she hummed.
Of course, it had to be Sasha who arrived and who stood open-mouthed at the sight of staid Noelia dancing all by herself, without partner or music. Noelia laughed at the shocked expression on the younger woman’s face and impulsively grabbed her hands and made her join in this crazy dance until they were both out of breath and collapsed laughing on the Victorian mahogany dining chairs.
“Oh, my goodness, whatever has happened, Noelia? Did you win the lottery?”
Noelia wiped her eyes. “No, of course not. I don’t believe in gambling.”
“It’s a fund-raising lottery for charity—oh, never mind. I know! You’ve met a man!”
Noelia pulled in a deep breath. “No, dear. Can’t a woman be happy even if she doesn’t have a man in her life?”
Sasha pulled on her bottom lip with her teeth. “I guess so. I mean, I hadn’t had a date in two weeks until the other evening, but I feel okay.”
“Oh, my goodness, a whole two weeks? How have you ever survived?” On impulse, Noelia hugged her.
Just then Kelly arrived, apparently pleased to see her two assistants looking like they were getting along for a change. She dropped her jacket and purse in the back room and then turned to Noelia. “So, today is a day for secrets to be revealed,” she announced. “Noelia, you go first!”
Noelia reared back. “I don’t have any secrets!”
“You have at least one. We saw you in a lip clinch with the dishy Dr. Westbury after you guys left the dinner party!”
Noelia didn’t know whether to be relieved or embarrassed. She’d been afraid Kelly was going to give away her other secret . . . but judging from the surprise on Sasha’s face, Kelly’s revelation was surprise enough.
“Group hug!” Sasha declared, and the three friends hugged each other, laughing all the while.
“So, are you going to see him again?” Kelly asked.
The heat was still rising on Noelia’s cheeks, but she was pleased that her friends were happy for her. “I hope so. At least, he asked if he could see me again, and I said yes.”
“’Bout time,” the younger woman said.
“So,” Kelly said, turning to Sasha. “Time for you to let Noelia in on your secret.”
“Let me guess—there’s a shoe sale at Bergdorf’s?” Noelia couldn’t resist the dig.
Sasha sniffed. “I know you think I’m an airhead,
Noelia, but I’ve been working very hard on a college course . . . ”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you down.” Noelia hugged her again, feeling a pang of guilt for being impatient with the young woman. “What have you been studying?” She resisted a devilish temptation to suggest it might have been makeup or hair styling.
Sasha stood up straight. “I just passed the exam—I’m qualified to sell real estate! And I took some extra courses in interior design and staging to make a house look wonderful!”
Noelia whistled. “Why, I think you may have found your niche! A job where you put your eye for design and color to good use.”
“Yeah,” Kelly added. “So long as you remember not to tell your clients that a particular house would make them look like a plucked turkey.”
“Oh, my goodness, Noelia told you that?” Sasha shot a sharp look at Noelia. “But honestly, Kelly, if you had seen that dress . . . ”
“I know, sweetie, but while you don’t have to lie, a little tact goes a long way.”
Just then their first customers of the day, a young woman and an older woman who looked like her mother, came into the store. Kelly moved toward them, a bright and welcoming smile on her face.
“Right, well, we’d better get back and do the work we’re paid for,” Noelia said, pulling Sasha toward the storeroom. She wondered if Sasha had also noticed that Kelly hadn’t revealed a secret herself, despite having said that this was a day to do so. She remembered Kelly’s reference when they’d chatted before Mary’s dinner party, when she’d said she had a lot on her mind. Noelia made a mental note to make sure she got Kelly alone and found out was what troubling her and how she could help.
“What do you want me to do?” Sasha actually sounded enthusiastic.
“Go make us come coffee. Then we’ll tidy the place up and unpack that new line of bridal veils that was delivered today.”
• • •
Later that day, Noelia stepped outside the store and stood in the bright spring sunshine, staring into the deep window space and trying to visualize the best way to showcase the scrumptious bridal headdresses and veils that had arrived. Should she leave those sexy camisoles in the window, or did they clash with the elegant tone set by the veils? What if she added one of their gorgeous antique or vintage gowns and an assortment of pearl-stitched gloves and beaded bridal purses?
The Sleeping Beauty Bride Page 7
