by Leigh Duncan
He was far from perfect, but he was the right man for the job. “I’ll fill in for Greg. At least, until he’s up and around again.”
Voices in the hall signaled the arrival of the first guests for the cocktail party. Jason nodded at the others. They needed to wrap this up before Tara put in an appearance.
“What do you think of her so far?” Mildred’s face wrinkled as if she was dealing with a thorny problem. “Is she here with our best interests at heart?”
Jason stopped to think about that for a moment. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Tara Stewart was a little bit in love with Heart’s Landing. Besides, according to what she’d said this morning, she was up for a big promotion at Weddings Today and needed to do an excellent job with this assignment. That could only work in their favor. It followed that he needed to do everything in his power to help her achieve her goal.
“Yes,” he said, putting all his assurance into it, “I think she’s on our side.”
Tara inhaled the fragrance of the hyacinths she’d discovered in her room when she’d returned to the Captain’s Cottage. The familiar smell eased some of the tension that had sunk its claws into her shoulders after she and Jason had toured Heart’s Landing this morning. One thing was sure, she had her work cut out for her. She hadn’t spotted any evidence to support Regina’s claim that the town had grown complacent. The three shops she’d visited couldn’t have been more perfect. She supposed someone could complain about the three-month waiting list at The Memory Box, but wasn’t that actually a good sign that their stock was in high demand?
Her time in the library hadn’t been any more fruitful. She’d spent hours poring through the ship’s logs without finding a thing that might tarnish Thaddeus’s reputation, much less disprove his love for Mary. In nearly every entry, the captain had described his progress on the stone heart he’d planned to give her at the end of his current journey. Only a man in love with his wife would do that.
Standing at the window overlooking the Cottage’s gardens, she bit her lower lip. She’d read enough about tall ships to know that a real captain’s quarters looked nothing like those on TV and in the movies. In all likelihood, Thaddeus had bent over a work table in a cramped, dimly lit cabin. The air would thicken as his dark hair worked loose from its leather binding to frame his face. With the floor constantly shifting beneath him, he’d tap the chisel with the mallet, again and again, until at last he was satisfied. Only then would he take a long pull from the tankard that waited at the end of his desk.
She must have pictured that scene in her mind a dozen times while she studied the logs this afternoon. But whenever the good captain looked up from his task, she saw Jason’s face in the flickering light from an oil lamp.
What was that all about?
She sank onto the edge of her bed. She wasn’t attracted to Jason. She couldn’t be. Okay, she’d admit he checked all the boxes for tall, dark, and handsome. He was well educated and an excellent tour guide. But she had a job to do while she was in Heart’s Landing, and falling for the owner of the Captain’s Cottage was definitely not on her agenda.
She shook her head, determined to dislodge the idea before it could take root. There was nothing going on between her and Jason. The attention he’d paid her, the interest he’d taken in her—that was all simply part of being a good host. As for the shiver of emotion she felt in her chest, well, she was smack dab in the middle of a town devoted to love and happy-ever-afters. It should come as no surprise that being here stirred thoughts of finding her own Mr. Right. She simply refused to make anything more out of it than that. Especially when doing so might jeopardize the very thing she’d come to Heart’s Landing to accomplish.
The soft murmur of people gathering on the floor below reminded her that it was time for the cocktail party. Maybe she’d stumble across some hint of trouble there. She crossed her fingers. Her first twenty-four hours in Heart’s Landing had flown by. The rest of her visit would pass just as quickly. With so much to accomplish and so little time to do it, she’d have to keep her eyes and ears open.
Grateful that the superb housekeeping staff had steamed and aired her clothes while she was out, she thumbed through the hangers. In honor of the flowers that had been delivered to her room, she chose a purple frock that always gave her an extra boost of self-confidence. A light dusting of powder and a quick swipe of her lipstick, and she was ready to go.
At the top of the stairs, she paused the moment she caught a glimpse of the Green Room through an open doorway. She hadn’t expected much of a turnout. Apparently, she’d been wrong about that. Musicians tuned their instruments on the small stage erected in one corner of the room. People in business attire stood five or six deep around tall tables that had been draped in white linens and topped with black accent pieces. The rest of the crowd moved about the room, stopping here to talk, there to exchange a greeting.
Butterflies swarmed through her chest. The fluttering wings sent a rush of nervous energy through her. Even though it had only been a game, she’d meant it this morning at I Do Cakes when she’d said she wanted a small wedding. She’d never been good with crowds or public speaking. At least, she hadn’t since the fourth grade, when she’d forgotten her lines in the holiday play and had been so embarrassed she’d run from the stage. Now, though, it looked and sounded as if the entire population of Heart’s Landing had turned out for the party. And every person there would be looking at her.
It was a good thing no one knew the real reason she was here. If they did, she suspected the mood in the room below wouldn’t be nearly so festive. Her grip on the banister tightened. Prying her fingers loose, she pressed damp palms to her skirt. A thousand reasons why she should head downstairs floated through her thoughts, but she remained rooted to the spot. How was she supposed to face all those people, knowing what she knew and what they didn’t?
She didn’t know how long she might have stood there, unable to move, if she hadn’t spotted Jason at the edge of the crowd. An instant later, their eyes met. Almost as if he’d been waiting for her, he broke away from his group of friends. His footsteps sure and even, he strode to the newel post at the base of the stairs. With a flourish that brought a smile to her lips, he came to a halt and bowed deeply. When he straightened, his grin settled her nerves. She still wasn’t quite sure how she made it down the stairs, but a few seconds later, she stood on the bottom step, face-to-face with the man who might have been her Mr. Right if circumstances had thrown them together anywhere but in Heart’s Landing.
“You look especially lovely tonight,” he said, his voice deep.
“Thanks.” Jason’s appreciative glance made her doubly glad she’d chosen her favorite dress. “Thanks for the flowers, too. They’re perfect.”
“My pleasure. Shall we?” He tilted his head toward the room behind him.
“Do we have to?” She scanned the faces in the crowded room. “I have to confess, I prefer smaller groups.”
“You said something about that at the bakery this morning.” His smile deepened.
“You were paying attention.” At the time, she’d thought he’d seen her protest as part of the game, but he’d taken her words to heart. The realization ignited a warm glow in her chest.
“The first rule of being a groom—listen to your fiancée,” he quipped with a grin.
Recognizing the line as a take-off on Nick’s patter earlier that day, she let her smile widen a smidge. “Do you think anyone would notice if I just hung out right here for the rest of the evening?”
“What? And miss all the food and drinks? I have it on good authority that the sausage balls are not to be missed.”
“I could eat a bite or two. It’s been a while since that cake tasting this morning.” Beyond Jason, black-suited waiters offered trays of champagne and goodies to guests.
“Aw, they’re just friends and family who want to welcome you to H
eart’s Landing. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know.” She shifted her weight from one foot to another while she fought the urge to bolt up the stairs to her room. “I don’t have to give a speech or anything, do I?” The thought turned her stomach positively mutinous.
“Nope. This is all fun and no business. No speeches, no toasts, no long-winded introductions.” He stopped himself. “Well, there’s always a toast, but you won’t have to give it. Come on.” He backed away a step. “You’ll enjoy this. I promise.”
Looking into his gray eyes, she trusted him enough to let go of her grip on the banister. And he was right. For the next hour, with Jason lending her his quiet strength, they worked their way from one end of the ballroom to the other. They were halfway across when a pleasant, middle-aged couple introduced themselves as the owners of the pretty bed and breakfast Chuck had pointed out on Union street.
“Come by any morning while you’re here. We have the best blueberry waffles anywhere in the state,” Mark invited.
“We’d love to have you join us for breakfast,” Marybeth added.
“I’ll be sure to visit soon,” Tara replied. She’d already put the inn on her list of places to visit. The owners were so warm and friendly that she made the stop a high priority.
A little farther on, Ames, the owner of Chantilly Veils, suggested she should drop by for a fitting. “You have such gorgeous bone structure, you’ll look absolutely stunning in one of my creations,” he gushed.
Ames’ enthusiasm was contagious, and Tara soon found herself deep in conversation about Guipure versus Duchesse lace.
“Oh, honey. You simply must see a piece that arrived this week. It’s edged in such an exquisite lace. It’s simply to die for.”
They set a date for later in the week before Ames waved to another friend and moved on. When he was gone, Tara glanced at Jason. “Is he always that kind-hearted?”
“I’ve never been in for a fitting myself,” Jason said with warmth in his eyes, “but I’ve heard more than one bride praise him. Apparently, he has quite the knack for finding the perfect veil to match any dress.”
At the buffet line, Chef Janet Hubbard introduced herself. “I own Food Fit For A Queen. We provide catering services for weddings and special events throughout the area.”
“Janet trained at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris,” Jason pointed out. “We’re very fortunate she chose to make Heart’s Landing her home.”
“Impressive.” If it’s true. Having grown up in a family that boasted not one, but two chefs, Tara knew a thing or two about the prestigious school. Some cooks claimed to have trained there but hadn’t actually completed any of the programs. She lobbed a question guaranteed to separate a pretender from the real deal. “Which specialty did you choose, patisserie or cuisine?”
A knowing smile graced Janet’s lips. “Both. I received the Grand Diplome before studying under Chef Walburg at Mikeline’s.”
Tara whistled softly. The Parisian five-star restaurant was known for its new take on traditional dishes and impeccable service. Jason hadn’t been kidding when he said Heart’s Landing was lucky to have Janet. “What made you decide to open up a catering business? And why here?”
“I learned early on that I didn’t enjoy working the front of the house nearly as much as I wanted to be in the kitchen. Catering allows me to focus on what I love—the food—without having to worry about the decor and atmosphere. As for why I came here, that’s a story for another day.” She gestured toward the buffet line. “Everything we’re serving tonight is on our regular menu. I hope you enjoy it.”
“You saved some of those sausage balls for me, didn’t you?” Jason cast a worried glance down the long row of tables.
“You brought your appetite, did you?” The tall, angular woman who wore a snug, white jacket chuckled. “There might be one or two left.” She turned to Tara. “Be sure to try the roast. The Dijon caper sauce is my own recipe. It’s quite popular. The horseradish is pretty good, too.”
Jason nudged Tara’s shoulder. “Janet’s being modest. It’s the best you’ll ever eat.”
The compliment was high praise coming from a man who’d regularly wined and dined clients in some of Boston’s best restaurants. With a slight nod to the chef, Tara moved through the line. The waitstaff manning the chafing dishes and trays efficiently filled her plate with a variety of tasty-looking dishes. At the end of the row, she spooned generous helpings of both the chef’s special sauces onto the paper-thin slices of beef a burly fellow cut from a spit.
“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered moments later as she and Jason stood at nearby tabletop. “You were right about the biscuits. They’re fantastic.” Cheesy goodness and sausage filled each round bite. Not to be outdone, the tender beef practically melted in her mouth. She contemplated a skewer of roasted vegetables. Carrots weren’t her favorite, but the shiny glaze on these tempted her to try a bite. She was glad when she did. Perfectly done to a nice crunch, the veggies burst with flavor. “I’d love to know what she put on these to make them taste this good.”
“It’s a balsamic demi-glace.” Jason popped a mushroom cap in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “It’s part of my job to know my way around Fit For A Queen’s menu. We use them for most of our catering needs.”
“You’re very good at what you do.” She nodded, taking another bite of carrot. After spending the day with Jason, his in-depth knowledge of the Cottage’s suppliers didn’t surprise her in the least. His attention to detail was impressive. Which, she had to admit, made it all the harder to keep the real purpose of her visit a secret.
Just then, the band struck up a spirited number that saved her from embarrassing herself any more than she already had. She tapped her foot to the lively beat as couples poured onto the dance floor.
“C’mon,” Jason said, pushing away his empty plate. “Let’s join them.”
“Why not?” Where was the harm? She could enjoy herself and still maintain her professional dignity. After all, she and some of her coworkers spent the occasional Friday night dancing at The Scribe. No one there gave that a second thought.
Arm-in-arm, they joined the others on the floor as the band kicked off the next number. Music had always soothed her and, for the first time since arriving in Heart’s Landing, she felt at ease. The first tune led to a second just as peppy. When that song ended and the band shifted to a waltz, it seemed the most normal thing in the world to step into Jason’s arms. Considering their height difference, she was surprised when her head fit perfectly onto the smooth plane beneath his collar bone. His movements were so fluid and graceful that she gave herself over to the music and the comfort of having his arms wrapped around her. Her feet moved in step with his as if they’d been dancing together for years instead of only a few minutes. Her eyes drifted shut.
A hush descended as they swayed together. Cocooned in Jason’s arms, she focused on the thud-thud of his heartbeat. Strong and steady, it was a sound she could go on hearing forever. The fresh, clean scent of laundry soap rose from his shirt. It mixed with his spicy cologne to form an intoxicating fragrance she thought she might always associate with him.
Plates rattled at the buffet line. Jason missed a step. Her eyes sprang open. Around them, the dance floor had cleared while the musicians took a break. Shocked that she’d momentarily lost track of where she was, of who she was, of what she’d come to Heart’s Landing to accomplish, she backed away from Jason.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her face heating. “We shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have…” She gave up. “I need to go.”
Resisting the urge to run, she calmly, deliberately made her way out of the room. At the foot of the stairs, she stopped long enough to cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Jason had disappeared into the crowd. It was just as well. She had no idea what to say to him.
In the safety of her room a few minutes later, she leane
d against the door.
Sure, Jason was an amazing dance partner. An amazing man. But she had no business dancing with him, much less getting caught up in the moment and losing sight of the reason she was in Heart’s Landing. She was here for one purpose—to destroy the very foundation of his home. That was something she couldn’t afford to forget, not even for a second. She’d lose her job unless she carried out Regina’s instructions to the letter. With no money to pay for rent, she’d lose her apartment next. And if that happened, she’d have no hope at all of ever convincing her family that pursuing her dreams had been a good decision.
Chapter Eight
Jason punched the End Call button and dropped the phone on his desk. He stretched his arms above his head. “I think I’ve spoken with everyone in town this morning.” Everyone, that was, except for the one person he wanted to hear from. Elbows bent, he threaded his fingers together behind his neck. “They all wanted to say how much they enjoyed the party.”
Seated in the visitor’s chair where, between phone calls, she’d brought him up to speed with events around the Cottage, Evelyn asked, “Who was it this time?”
“Jimmy.” The young man who’d recently been promoted to assistant manager at I Do Cakes took his job seriously. Maybe too seriously. “He wanted to make sure we were pleased with the petit fours and éclairs. When I told him they were great, he asked if there was anything else we needed. There wasn’t, was there?”
“You didn’t happen to mention the extra sweet rolls for tomorrow’s breakfast, did you?”
Jason blinked. He vaguely recalled Evelyn saying something about placing a larger order for the morning after the Garrison wedding. It wasn’t like him to forget something that important. Freeing his hands, he rocked forward. “I’ll call him right back.”
“Never mind. I’ll handle it.” Though Evelyn gave him a questioning look, she accompanied it with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “I have to swing by the bakery later today. Now, as I was saying, this week’s paychecks are right here, ready to be signed.” She tapped a folder on the corner of his desk. “I triple-checked the hours against the time clock. There weren’t any discrepancies.”
