The Bouquet List: a Weddings in Westchester novel (Entangled Bliss)

by Barbara Deleo

  “Had.” He still looked as serious and aloof as she’d remembered, and his intense stare still made the skin on the back of her neck tingle. “I’ve just sold them and have a very large project starting in a couple of months.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I was given the opportunity to create my signature restaurant in the newest Prescott Hotel. It’s the sort of thing I’d always had as an ultimate goal, but didn’t think I’d achieve until my mid-thirties.”

  “The Prescott Hotels? I’ve heard that guy’s ruthless.”

  “He is, but he picked my restaurant out of a pretty impressive lineup so I’m ready to put everything into it. Doing this job for your dad was good timing because the hotel won’t be ready until the end of summer, and I hate not working.”

  She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Look, I know Dad asked you to oversee the changes, but now that I’m here I’m happy to take over.”

  He frowned as if she’d asked him to embezzle money from his grandma, but still spoke with that voice as smooth as liquid chocolate. “Your father asked me to do a little more than advise on decor. He asked that I manage the finances and oversee all the restaurant changes. Trust me, it’s easy to pay thousands of dollars for very little impact, and he wants his investment maximized. And with all due respect, you haven’t had industry experience.”

  She put her palms flat on the table and straightened her spine. He didn’t need to know why she was back, or that she’d been sick. He just needed to know that she wanted to be in charge of this project, get creative, and help her parents at the same time.

  “I appreciate your experience and expertise,” she said, making herself look directly in his eyes, “but I really want to do this on my own, so we can tell Dad we’re checking in from time to time and leave it at that.”

  “Your hair,” he suddenly said. “How do they get the purple on there when it’s so dark underneath?”

  She fingered the piece of hair over her shoulder, taken aback by his sudden interest in her. “They take a bit and bleach it, then when all the color’s gone they put the purple over it.”

  “You mean they take all the existing color out completely? That must be damaging to the hair shaft. Does it ever recover?” He frowned again, and she had to suppress a chuckle at the look of concern on his face. He was just as she’d remembered, serious and aloof.

  “I’m not really sure. I just had it done in Singapore on my way home.”

  “Interesting. I hope it doesn’t cause permanent injury.”

  There was a strange, yawning silence and Yasmin stifled a laugh at the irony of him worrying about damage to her hair when she’d had a life-threatening illness.

  “As I was saying,” Lane said, “you’ll need advice and a detailed plan of what needs to be done. I have a designer who’ll come by this week to advise on any structural changes, and then I’ll have one of my chefs in and we can take a look at a menu redesign. I also have…”

  She blinked. “Hang on a minute.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to have some fun with this, make the most of the opportunity.”

  “Then I guess we’ll need to talk with your dad. It’s his money and his investment. He didn’t indicate that the focus should be…fun.” He lifted a strong shoulder, then let it fall.

  Suddenly, Yasmin thought back to her early teens when she would dream about Lane taking notice of her, talking to her, and seeing her as someone important. He’d seemed untouchable back then—guys like him still were, for a girl who spent more time with mold than men.

  A strange feeling overtook her and her mouth dried.

  Seduce a tall, dark, and mysterious man who’s out of my league.

  The sense of déjà vu—Lane Griffiths with his suit and his status and his cool aloofness, his strong shoulders and those heart-melting eyes—Lane Griffiths could be her number five!

  Chapter Two

  Lane flicked his gaze away from Yasmin for the tenth time in the last two minutes. He didn’t want her to think he was staring. He just couldn’t believe that this stunning woman with the bright purple hair and the tiny diamond winking in her nose was his best friend Nick’s kid sister. When she’d left a message this morning, he’d been expecting someone serious and intellectual, someone like the picture that Mr. and Mrs. Katsalos had on their front room dresser. The girl receiving her master’s degree for some obscure science thing, with dark-rimmed glasses and an uncertain smile. He hardly remembered her when she was younger, other than that she was studious and a bit awkward, nothing like this sexy woman with the quirky grin and sparkling eyes.

  What had happened to her? And what did she mean, “fun”? This was business, pure and simple. Fun didn’t factor in at all.

  “Mano said it’s imperative that the restaurant keep running while any changes are made,” he said, to pull himself back to the matter at hand.

  Yasmin nodded. “Dad says things are pretty tough financially. In the old days, he and Mom would be run off their feet in summer with two weddings a day sometimes, but Dad implied the rivalry with O’Malley Weddings has gotten so bad that they’ve lost a lot of business.”

  She’d stopped refusing his help outright, so he decided to try to get her fully on board. “What sort of ideas do you have so far?”

  She leaned forward, her chocolate eyes sparkling. He’d noticed a silver necklace with a butterfly moving against her throat. It danced each time she spoke and he couldn’t stop watching it, and imagining pressing a kiss on the skin beneath.

  “We need to rethink everything from the menu to the decor,” she said, and he focused on her dusky lips as she spoke. “Mom and Dad have always had good chefs, but they’ve tried to keep the food really traditional. Even the Greek families who get married at the Palace would love a more modern menu, I’m sure. And the same goes with the decor. Murals of Santorini and plastic grapevines hanging from the ceiling might’ve been stylish in the eighties, but not anymore.”

  She’d been thinking carefully about this.

  The waiter put their drinks down, placed a scone that resembled a pillow with little plates of jam and cream in front of Yasmin, and left.

  “I have this idea for making the restaurant more communal,” she said, pulling the plate with the scone toward her and beginning to tear it apart. Her eyes lit up. “We could redo the table design, or the layout.” She spooned bright red jam onto each half of the scone and then followed it with a dollop of cream. She smiled brightly. “Would you like one of these? I’ve heard they’re disgustingly delicious.”

  He shook his head as he watched her finish the job, then take a huge bite. She closed her eyes and made a low noise at the back of her throat that made him feel like he was intruding on a private moment, and he wanted to hear it over and over. “God, these are good,” she said as her eyes opened and rested on him again, her voice muffled by scone. A thin line of whipped cream sat above her top lip before she carefully wiped it away with a finger. “And we could have the whole place look rustic but a lot more modern.” She licked the cream from her finger, then chewed, and a ripple of need shuddered through him. A completely inappropriate reaction to the sister of his oldest friend.

  He shook his head to clear it. What was she saying? Tables, right. He wanted to point out that was the most ridiculous idea he’d heard for a wedding venue ever, but was mindful of the fact that the sooner he took control of this colorful, unguided missile, the better. “I don’t know many people who’d want their wedding to be rustic.”

  “Oh.” She took another sip of her tea, but her eyes held his. “You don’t think people want to be more relaxed at a wedding these days?”

  This might not be as easy as he’d assumed.

  A bell sounded—a single melodic note—from her handbag, and her eyes swung to it, then back at him. The echo must have gone on for a full ten seconds.

  “Important text?”

  “No, not a text. I should have turned it off, though.” She fished ou
t her phone, flicked a switch on the side, and shoved it back in.

  “We can talk details later. Your father has said he’s prepared to pay what it takes, but I’ve given him quite a conservative estimate at the moment,” Lane said. “I don’t think we want to be making wholesale changes without your parents’ knowledge.”

  Yasmin lifted her chin and brushed crumbs from the corner of her moist mouth. “I spoke to Dad before he left this morning. He said to do whatever I could to get the restaurant humming again, both on the catering side and in the restaurant.”

  But her father couldn’t afford anything too grand. Things were tough for Pia and Mano. “I’m sure your parents will be selling soon, so these changes will be merely cosmetic.”

  Her mouth dropped and a look of horror passed across the smooth skin of her face. “Sell the Palace? No. They’ve built this business from nothing over forty years. I want to do everything I can to try to turn things around for them.”

  “Conditions are tough, business has dropped off, and your mother has left for Greece. It doesn’t make sense to throw a whole lot of money at renovating the restaurant if it’s just going to be sold out from under you.”

  Her eyes became glossy, and he could’ve kicked himself. He’d said too much. Hurt her.

  “Even if that were true, it’d be much better to sell when it was on the rise rather than floundering, wouldn’t it?” she said. “It makes sense that while I’ve got the time and the passion I do whatever I can to help out. Overhauling the restaurant is something I think I can do.”

  Could she? As far as he knew, she had no experience with design or budgeting, and he didn’t think Mano would be impressed if this ended up making things worse. But if he monitored her closely and kept her passion for self-expression and crazy ideas in check, it might work out. “Okay, but we’ll need to be open with each other, have a realistic budget, and we need to work toward a relaunch date so we can incorporate it with branding for the wedding hall side of the business.”

  She nodded as her eyes shone and she lifted the scone, ready to take another bite, his stomach muscles clenching in anticipation of hearing her moan again. “How long do you think it would all take?”

  “I’m free for the next month, and it’s important we see changes before the summer wedding season is finished. We need easy and nondisruptive solutions. We’ll work around the clock and at weekends, and we’ll plan a relaunch party where we can invite influential people, so they’ll need enough notice. Hopefully by then your parents will be back.”

  With a finger, she scooped up the remaining cream on the plate and she popped it in her mouth, her finger lingering on her lips.

  He almost let out a groan of his own. “If you listen to my advice and we’re both committed to working together to take the Aegean Palace to a whole new level just as your father wants, I think we can do it.” Finally he tore his focus from her mouth, wondering how he could endure thirty days of this torture. Maybe he could make sure he wasn’t around when she ate. Whipped cream especially.

  …

  After meeting with Lane, Yasmin called her best friend Genie, who had arrived back from college in Florida last week. Genie squealed down the phone and said to come straight over. Yasmin jogged the last few blocks between the Palace and Genie’s house, and she noticed how the town of Beauville had spread out. Much of this area had been countryside when her parents first built the Palace. There were still some green areas, and the summer sun dappled the sidewalk as she ran.

  As Yasmin passed the redbrick Episcopal church, she thought about growing up here, how hard her parents had worked to make a life for them all after emigrating from Greece. Things must be pretty desperate for her mom to take off so suddenly, especially in the middle of wedding season, and she resolved to call her as soon as she could. Maybe if she knew Yasmin was back and could see the hard work they were putting into the renovation when she got home, she’d find a new happiness in the place that had meant so much to all of them.

  She reached Genie’s parents’ house and walked up the steps. It didn’t take her friend long to answer the door.

  “Oh my God! You look unbelievable!” Genie said after they hugged and she ushered Yasmin in.

  “You think the color’s okay? You would tell me if I look like the love child of Cruella De Vil and Barney, right? I had it done in Singapore, and Dad’s reaction wasn’t exactly enthusiastic.”

  “The color’s amazing. You look like a cross between Lady Gaga and Katy Perry—sexy, and a little bit wild and…” Genie slapped her palm to her chest, eyes wide. “Speaking with all the love in my heart, honey…nothing remotely like the Yasmin Katsalos I used to know.”

  After they walked into Genie’s kitchen, Genie looked at Yasmin from all sides, then pulled out two chairs at the kitchen table and sat down. “But you are looking a bit too skinny. They obviously don’t have Ben & Jerry’s Salted Caramel in Borneo.”

  She hadn’t had a chance to tell her father she’d been sick, and she certainly wouldn’t be telling Lane Griffiths, but she wanted her best friend to know.

  “I had dengue fever. The doctors weren’t sure I would make it. Mom and Dad don’t know, and now that everything’s happened with them I don’t want to tell them until they get back.”

  Genie sat closer. “Oh my God, that sounds awful. Are you okay now?”

  Yasmin nodded. “Apart from getting pretty tired, I’m fine. My insurance company paid for me to see a specialist in Singapore and he said that I should be good as new in a couple of months. A bit of rest and I’ll be back to my old self. I guess this whole thing of having to stay at the Palace ’til Mom and Dad get back has worked in my favor. But that’s enough about me. How are you?”

  Genie tilted her head to one side. “With the greatest respect, Yas, if you came home to recover and get back to your old self…that new diamond stud in your nose and the purple hair?”

  Yasmin chuckled. “The old Yas is long gone, G. Staring down death in that jungle hut, I promised myself that from now on I’m going to live exactly the way I want, and changing my hair color was the second thing on my bouquet list.” She touched the tiny stud in her nose. “And this bad girl was my first.”

  “Your whatsit list?”

  “Bouquet list. You’ve heard of the Jack Nicholson movie, right? The Bucket List? Two old guys who make a list of everything they want to do before they die. Well, when I was starting to recover, I wrote a list of the things I want to do now that I know I’m not going to die—my bouquet list.”

  Genie smiled. “Kinda cute given your parents own a wedding hall. Bucket for when you’re kicking it, and bouquet when you’re launching into something new…” She nodded. “I like it. But having purple hair and a nose stud were your top priorities?”

  Yasmin chuckled. “Kind of. You know me, I’ve been a good Greek daughter my whole life. I studied hard and did exactly what I was supposed to right from when I was little. When I realized how close to death I’d gotten in Borneo, I decided to live the way I want to—be the person I want to be, look the way I want to look, even if it scares the holy hell out of me.”

  Genie’s mouth lifted in a teasing grin. “If I had your mom, I’d be glad she was out of the country when I got myself all dyed and pierced too. So, if the stud in your nose was first on your list, and having purple hair was second, what’s number three?”

  “Putting my PhD studies on hold. My doctor said I could potentially go back to college this semester, but I’m phoning my professor tonight to tell him I’m sitting this year out. I know he’s going to be disappointed, but being so sick has kinda given me a hunger to see what else there is in life.” She squeezed Genie’s arm. “And a chance to spend more time with my best friend. Speaking of which, I’m so excited your brother invited me to his wedding. That’s one bonus from having to come home. Now I can go if it’s still okay. How’s the countdown going?”

  “Hideous,” Genie said, shuddering and pulling a face. “Paul’s fiancée, Carmel,
is gorgeous, but her mother, Pat, is as overbearing and subtle as a cattle prod. Can you believe she said my blond hair would clash with the yellow bridesmaid’s dress?” She clutched Yasmin’s arm and looked stricken. “I’m really sorry the wedding’s at the O’Malley place. Paul would’ve much preferred to get married at the Palace, but Pat’s in thick with Mrs. O’Malley and I think he’s a bit scared of her. He’ll be so pleased you can make it.”

  Yasmin shrugged. “It’s fine, honestly. We’ve been losing a lot of business to the O’Malleys lately. Paul’s wedding will give me a chance to have a sneak peek at what magic they’re using to be so successful. Do you need help with getting anything ready?”

  “I have a hair trial Tuesday. Wanna come to that?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “So, what else is on this bouquet list of yours?” Genie asked. “Nude rodeo, fire eating?”

  Yasmin counted on her fingers. “Learn a new language, seduce a tall, dark guy who’s totally out of my league—”

  “Oooh, I like that one,” Genie exclaimed. “I guess there hasn’t been a lot of time for seduction in the toadstool fields of Borneo.”

  Yasmin chuckled. “It feels like I’ve been chained to a desk in a sexless white lab coat since I was a teenager, and everyone else I know seems to have had a go at seduction. Who knows, maybe Lane Griffiths could fit the bill.”

  “Oh, Lane! Nick’s old friend? The one we all had a crush on when we were fourteen. The cool, superior sort of one with the nice pecs.”

  Yasmin nodded. “Dad hired him to oversee renovations at the Palace.”

  “A bit of Lane Griffiths is sure to help your recovery. What’s on the rest of your list?”

  “Visit Rome, learn to dance, follow my heart and not my head, then find my artist lover in a country far away from here and spend the rest of our lives traveling, tied to nothing and no one. I haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to finance any of this, but I’m definitely going to do my best to make it all happen.”

  Just as soon as I figure out how to get Lane to notice me.