“It won’t all be weddings. You heard him. Tonight it’s firemen. Hunky firemen.”
“He didn’t invite me to the party. He invited my centerpieces. So while they might get a date with a hunky fireman, I won’t.”
“You’re missing the point.” Audrey sighed and plopped her pickle on her plate. “It’s a door opening. A new opportunity. You need to move on to something new.”
“This sounds more like moving on to someone new, which I’m not ready for.”
“I didn’t say marry the guy. But he obviously likes you. He broke his own rule for you, he had you locked in his sights like a deer in the headlights, and he was drooling a little bit.”
“Oh, be serious.”
“I am. If there’s one thing I can tell, it’s when a guy is interested. Just make up a business card on your computer, drop it off this afternoon, and see if he calls you, which he will. I know he will. Then you do some work for him and see how things progress.”
“Mixing business with hanky panky, is that what you’re suggesting?”
“Damn right I am. You need it.”
“I need a machete. When can we go get the machete?”
Audrey leaned in again. “Harper, baby, stop thinking about killing ‘Badly Bradley’ and live in the moment.”
“You were the one who suggested the machete, and I wasn’t going to kill him. Much.” Harper studied the remains of her chicken sandwich and thought about what her friend was suggesting. She liked her job at Marchand Vaughn, but she loved being creative. The centerpieces had been her project over the Christmas holidays, and she’d reveled in choosing the candles and the silk flowers and creating the wreaths and shopping for the shimmery snowflakes. She couldn’t deny she’d dreamed about having her own business and spending all day submerged in glittering crystals and beads and rose petals and creating beautiful things that would make people stop and sigh when they saw them. Would a few side jobs really hurt? It would certainly help her recoup her losses on the wedding, along with the sale of her engagement ring, which she planned to look into this afternoon as well.
“All right. I’ll bring him a business card. But I’m only doing it for the chance at some spare cash. I’m not looking for a rebound guy.”
Audrey shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
“I can’t do that to someone. Just because Brad screwed me doesn’t mean I should screw someone else.”
A wicked smile crossed her friend’s lips. “So don’t call it screwing.”
“You’re terrible.”
“‘Sadly Bradley’ is terrible. I’m pragmatic.” Audrey reached for the check. “When you start making big bucks in the centerpiece business, you can take me out to lunch.”
“Deal. After shopping we can swing by my place and make up a card and be back to TF before the Fireman’s dinner starts.”
Audrey cringed. “I can’t. I have a date for dinner.”
“Another one? You didn’t tell me this. Who with?”
Audrey sighed. “A guy I met at the gym. His name is Jim, believe it or not. He works for the trucking company.”
“Where is he taking you?”
“Some French place in Belvedere, then we’re going to a movie.”
“Call me first thing tomorrow with deets.”
“The way things have been going for me, I’ll probably be calling you by ten tonight.”
“So you had a couple of bad dates. Quit whining.” Harper grinned. Audrey’s dating adventures of late were legendary. In the past year she’d probably gone on a dozen first dates, each one a bigger disaster than the last.
“Really? You’re going there?”
“All I’m saying is, as long as you follow the checklist, you should be fine. One, does he own a goat? Two, do the local cops know his driver’s license number by heart? Three, does he live with his mother? Four, is his name Norman? Five, does he carry around X-rays of his intestines?”
“Jim is good on four out of five. I don’t know where his mother lives, though.”
“Check that and get back to me.”
Audrey dropped some cash on the table, and they struggled themselves into their coats for a foray into the icy wind. “Look, if I could meet a guy like Grant Addison, I wouldn’t need to go on all these ridiculous dates.”
“You did meet a guy like Grant, today in fact. Why don’t you ask him out?”
“Because he was drooling over you, blondie. I never felt more like chopped liver than I did in that hall today.”
“Oh come on. He was nice to you.”
“But he was hot for you. Trust me. I know these things.”
“I’m not going to have sex with him.”
Audrey pushed open the door of Colette’s, the cold air sweeping her comment back at Harper as they left. “Famous last words, my dear.”
* * * *
Five hours of staring at contracts and ledgers and spreadsheets had left Grant’s vision blurry and his back stiff and hunched. The somewhat timid knock on his office door at ten after four gave him the perfect excuse to drag his butt out of his chair and stretch for a bit.
He opened the door to Harper Shaw’s summer-blue eyes and hopeful smile, and all the aches he’d accumulated from a day of grueling paperwork seemed to melt away. “Hi! I wasn’t expecting you back.” He clamped his jaw shut a second after the thoughtless comment left his mouth.
Her expression froze. “You weren’t? I thought—”
“No…yes. I mean, I got the impression you really weren’t all that interested in my offer. Your friend seemed more enthusiastic. And I see she’s not with you.” He was grateful for that. The taller penguin had a sort of mama-bear attitude that made him, frankly, a little nervous.
“Ah, well, Audrey doesn’t work on the centerpieces. She just…consults.”
Good. “Come in, take off your coat. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, I’m fine.” Harper sashayed past him and gratefully shed her voluminous coat, revealing the figure he’d guiltily been wondering about all day. He tried not to look too closely at her smooth-fitting jeans and the low-cut burgundy sweater that clung nicely to her upper curves. This was a business meeting, not a date, so he didn’t dare notice the cool air of his office had an effect on her nipples which were just visible against the stretchy knit of her top.
Fortunately she distracted him by handing him the business card she’d fished out of her purse. The plain white card said HARPER SHAW DESIGNS above a local phone number and an address on the other side of town. The fine print at the center of the card read: Flower arrangements, wreaths, and centerpieces for every occasion.
“Thank you. If anyone asks about the decorations tonight, I’ll tell them you made them and that your services are available for other events.”
“Sure.” She shrugged, seeming unsure of what to do next. “You should know, I work days. This is a side job for me.”
“I understand. Our events are mostly on weekends and booked well in advance.”
“Okay, then. I guess that’s all you need really?”
She smelled a little like the candles from her centerpieces, and he wanted to ask what the fragrance was. Instead he floundered for something to keep her here a moment longer. Poor girl, Elaine’s voice said. Jilted bride.
And I’m thinking about hitting on her. Bad form, Grant. “Actually, I had an idea this afternoon. Next weekend, we’re having a small expo here. A couple of vendors are coming with cake samples, dresses, etc. How would you like to showcase some of your pieces? It would be a great way to impress potential customers.”
“Cakes and dresses? Like wedding cakes and wedding dresses?”
“I’m an idiot. Sorry. Too soon? I should have thought of that. We can stick to the non-wedding events if you prefer.”
She squared her shoulders, drawing herself up a little bit taller, though still not quite reaching his chin. “No. I’m perfectly fine. I’d love to make some samples for you.”
“Excellent. Elaine has
a sheet with the details. We should get some bookings from that, and we can discuss payment. Of course TF will reimburse you for supplies if we book an event, and I can offer you another thirty percent for labor. You can bring everything here for assembly if you need the space.”
“Okay. Perfect.” Harper offered her hand again. “Thank you, Grant. I appreciate the opportunity.”
He took her hand, which was much warmer than it had been earlier. He had to wonder if he’d come up with this plan as a means to improve TF’s bottom line, or as a means to make Harper Shaw happy. Despite her gorgeous smile, something in her eyes spoke of the pain she had to be experiencing. “I think this arrangement will be good for both of us,” he said before letting go of her hand. He hoped that would prove true and that he hadn’t just become Fran all over again, trying to make other people happy at the expense of the business. A pretty pair of…eyes had been the downfall for a lot of men, so he had to make this work for the sake of Taverna Fiora or he’d be the next one out of a job.
Chapter Three
“Are you seeing him today?” Audrey’s question blared out of Harper’s cell phone as she hoisted the last bundle of roses into the back of her car. She didn’t need to ask who her friend was talking about. Grant had been the topic of their conversations all week long, even taking precedence over Audrey’s less than stellar date with Jim from the gym.
“Yes, I’m on my way there now to put the samples together.”
“And the expo doesn’t start until six?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll be there alone with him?” Clearly Audrey was getting at something.
“I doubt that. He’s got people in the kitchen and Elaine will be there, so don’t count on me straddling him on the dance floor. You really need a life, you know.”
“Stop reminding me.”
“Don’t you have a date tonight?”
“Cancelled it.”
“Already? Why?” Harper opened her car and slid into the seat, grateful she’d left the heater on while packing the back with her supplies.
“This was the guy I met at the supermarket.”
“Yeah, you said he seemed nice, and he knows how to cook.”
“And he’s obsessive about it. He wanted to cook me dinner, which is nice, but he called me thirteen times this week to make sure I wasn’t allergic to anything.”
“That’s sweet. What’s wrong with that? Clearly he doesn’t want you to puff up like a blowfish and have to go to the emergency room between appetizers and dessert. He deserves props for that.”
“He asked me if I’m allergic to organ meats.”
“Is that code for something?”
“Yes, it’s code for cow brains. He was going to make cow brains. I’m not a zombie. I don’t eat brains.”
“You could have said, yes, you were allergic.”
Audrey paused for a second, obviously stumped. “Okay, you’re right. I could have. But, to be honest the thought of a guy preparing a brain for me to eat…not romantic.”
“They’re a delicacy.”
“You eat one.”
“Sorry, I’ve got to go seduce Grant.”
“Oooh, really?”
“No. I’ve got to go impress a bunch of brides with my flower-arranging skills and keep myself from telling them to never trust a lying, cheating, cowardly man as long as they live. And I said that with a smile.”
Audrey sighed. “Go get ’em.”
“Since you’re dateless, when I’m done I’ll swing by with pizza. How’s that?”
“Only if you aren’t hanging out with Grant.”
“Say it with me, Aud. He’s my boss.”
“No. Mr. Marchand is your boss. Grant is a hunky hot guy who wants you.”
“Bye, Audrey.”
Audrey made a smacking kiss sound into the phone. “Bu-bye, good luck! With the centerpieces.”
“Don’t lie.”
“Really, I mean it.”
Harper hung up and jammed her phone into her coat pocket. The drive to Taverna Fiora was slow and treacherous thanks to a mid-week ice storm that had left the streets still slick in some patches and gritty with sand and salt in others. Winter in the northeast was a challenge, and keeping her mind on the road was her first priority, not easy when today was the day Brad was due back from their honeymoon trip.
He hadn’t called her, and she hadn’t called him. His mother had left her a couple of messages which she felt guilty about not returning, but she wasn’t sure what to say to her ex-future mother-in-law or what the woman would want to say to her. An apology for her son’s despicable behavior would be in order, but what if he’d convinced his mom that somehow Harper was at fault for this disaster? She wasn’t in the mood to deal with that kind of drama, so she settled on thinking about her designs and about Grant and his broad shoulders and sexy cologne and those gorgeous blue eyes of his. He’s my boss, she’d said to Audrey. But Audrey was right. Her real boss was Mr. Marchand. Grant was more like a business partner, and it was okay—wasn’t it?—to admire the physique of a business partner. That was all she planned to do, and she didn’t plan to talk about it to anyone, so who would know she secretly thought he was hot?
* * * *
Wild horses couldn’t have made Grant admit he’d been staring out his office window waiting for Harper to arrive. She’d called him twice throughout the week with questions about the Expo, and each time the sound of her voice had given him a bit of a rise. In person she was sweet and sunny, but over the phone her voice took on a whispery quality that made the hair on the back of his neck tingle.
When her car pulled up, he grabbed his coat and made his way out to the parking lot, not stopping to acknowledge Elaine’s questioning stare.
“Can I offer you a hand?” he asked as Harper swung open the hatchback of her car to reveal boxes of candles, evergreen and grapevine wreaths, bows and ribbons and bundles of fresh roses. The car smelled like a garden, and the scent seemed to waft from her as well as she lifted a box and handed it to him.
“Thanks. I was worried the parking lot would be icy.”
“The plow was here early this morning.” Grant hoisted the box and glanced at the gray sky. “Hopefully the next snow won’t hit for a couple of days.”
She hmmed as a reply and set two more boxes on the ground before closing her car. “Good, we can get this all in one trip. Most of the arrangements are done, I just have to spruce up a couple of things, make some bows and put the roses in for the spring samples.”
Grant followed her into the lobby, watching her black high-heeled boots hit the pavement. Elaine waved as they passed, and once in the main room, he showed her to the table where she could set up her centerpieces. She set down her boxes and pulled off her coat and hat. Today she wore a sleek, dark-red pant suit. A black velvet band held her hair back, letting it spill across her shoulders in thick waves.
“The other vendors will be here in about an hour or so to set up,” he said. “So you have the place to yourself for a bit.”
“That’s fine. It smells good. What’s cooking?”
“Hors d’oeuvres for the guests. I can get you a sample if you’re hungry.” He winked. “I’ve been stealing a few—for quality control purposes—all morning.”
She grinned. “I’d be happy to help with quality control.” The scent of roses intensified as she began unwrapping the flowers and arranging the pieces she’d created. Grant found himself staring dumbly at her as she worked, primping fat ribbons and bows, tucking gorgeous multicolored blooms into wreaths and setting candles into hurricane glasses. She moved with serene grace, occasionally flicking a wavy lock of hair over her shoulder. “Everything okay?” she asked when she noticed him lingering.
“Oh, yeah. I was just…thinking about the lighting in here.”
“It seems fine. Do you think I’ve got enough samples? I tried to cover all the seasons.”
“Yeah, they’re great. Very…wedding like.” All the designs she’d br
ought looked more romantic, and well, girly, than the ones she’d made for her own wedding. Those had turned out to be a hit, and the Firemen’s Association was grateful to TF for the added bonus of gorgeous decorations. He’d already had a few inquiries about future events now that word was getting around the place would be providing extra services. That meant he could justify the deal he’d made with Harper, but the wistful look on her face as she studied the flowers and ribbons gave him pause. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Most of the guests coming today are brides and their mothers. It could get a little…weepy in here.”
She let out a half laugh that seemed to end in a bit of a sniffle. “No, I’m totally fine. I’m so fine the part I’m not fine with is how fine I am.” She mumbled the last part under her breath.
Rather than walk away as he should have, leaving her to her semi-private rant, Grant eyed her for a moment. The stiff set of her shoulders had him wondering once again if this had been a bad idea. “If you’re sure…?”
“What?” She turned around, probably not expecting him to still be hanging around, gaping like some dumbstruck teenager. “Oh. It’s nothing. It’s just that everyone seems to expect me to be a fragile mess, and I guess I should be. My fiancé walked out on me with some lame-ass excuse about needing to find himself, and the worst part isn’t the gossip and people stopping me on the street to ask about the woman he threw me over for—which he didn’t, that’s a lie by the way—or that I had to walk into every establishment we dealt with for the wedding and pay the bills, and it’s not that I still have to send back engagement gifts or pick up the engraved rings. The worst part is that the strongest emotion I feel is relief.”
She gestured to the centerpieces she’d lined up on the display table. “All this stuff consumed me for more than a year. Colors, flowers, music, and through all that I never noticed the man I was supposed to preparing to spend the rest of my life with wasn’t really into it. I think he proposed because his parents pushed him into it. They wanted him settled with someone to take care of him. In the back of my mind I knew that. I knew I was going to have to be the one making the decisions, keeping everything going all the time, and I accepted it, but you know what? Now I sort of feel like I’m free. And that scares me. What was I thinking making the decision to get married when the thought of not getting married actually doesn’t bother me? The real truth is…I…” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I should shut up. You didn’t ask for the Dr. Phil version of my life, did you?”
Jilted in January Page 2
