The Wedding Planner

by Millie Criswell

  The thought depressed him, so he turned his attention to more uplifting matters. “You’ve got beautiful breasts, love.”

  Lowering his head, he tongued her nipple with agonizing thoroughness, and streaks of white-hot desire shot through her, heating her blood to the hard-boiled stage. “You’re not playing fair, Adam,” she protested, her voice breathless with desire. “First you use the kids to soften me up, and now you’re intent on seducing me again. You’re just not playing fair.”

  “All’s fair in love, war and business.”

  He trailed his tongue down her chest to land in her navel. “Mmmm. You’ve got the most delectable belly button. I could spend the rest of my life nestled right here.”

  But he didn’t.

  Soon he moved lower to place scorching kisses on the inside of her thighs. “Oooooh! Stop that! You’re—Oooh!”

  “You smell like peaches and cream. Do you taste as good, I wonder?”

  It was the scented body wash, but she didn’t bother to answer the rhetorical question, because Adam’s tongue had slipped lower and was doing a taste test of its own.

  “Adam.” His name slipped out on a sigh.

  Gripping the sheets, as if they could keep her anchored to the bed, she felt herself floating higher and higher with every flick of his delectably clever tongue. “I…I can’t take any more. All right,” she conceded with a tortured gasp. “We’ll go by plane.”

  She heard him chuckle softly. That was the last thing she heard, because her head filled with a peculiar ringing noise, and her body took off of its own accord to land somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling fan.

  If the Guinness Book of Records had had a category for most powerful lovemaking, the one she’d just experienced would have been at the top of the list. “Wow!” she exclaimed when her breathing had finally returned to normal, not realizing she’d spoken aloud until she heard Adam’s amused laughter again.

  “You’d better answer the phone. It’s ringing off the hook,” he told her.

  “The phone?” She shook her head to clear it, then realized what he was talking about. “The phone’s ringing.”

  He handed her the portable from the nightstand. “I believe I already said that.”

  Her look was filled with annoyance, his with amusement.

  “Miss Baxter, this is Dr. Cushman.”

  Meredith’s heart, which was already churning like a cement mixer, slammed against her ribs. If something had happened to her mother— “Is everything all right? Is my mom okay?” She held her breath and didn’t release it until he replied.

  “She’s fine, Miss Baxter. In fact, your mother’s going to be even better in a very short time. We’ve found an organ. We’ve scheduled the transplant operation for first thing tomorrow morning. Can you be here?”

  “They found a match!” she told Adam excitedly, her eyes filling with tears. And to the doctor, she said, “Yes. Yes, I can.” In a daze she handed the phone back to the man who had made it all possible, wondering if she could love him any more than she already did.

  She decided she could.

  Adam kissed her cheek, relieved at the joy registered on her face, reflected in her voice, in the brilliance of her eyes bright with tears. “I’m happy for you, love.”

  “My mother’s going to live. She’s going to be all right. I just know it.”

  Aware of the problems associated with heart transplants, because he’d been doing some research of his own, he advised caution. He didn’t want Meredith to get her hopes up only to have them dashed. She might not recover from such a disappointment, and the blame would be his to bear.

  “Let’s take this one step at a time. You know the procedure isn’t one hundred percent foolproof.” Heart transplants did have an eighty percent, one-year survival rate, which was very encouraging, despite the possibility of organ rejection, infection and numerous other variables that had to be taken into account.

  Not listening to a word he’d said, Meredith threw her arms around his neck and kissed him—not passionately, but with gratitude, love and hope that she could win this wonderful man’s heart. “Thank you for doing this, Adam. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

  He stroked her hair, dried her tears with his lips and groaned when his body responded to the feel of hers pressed against him. It was on the tip of his tongue to say, “Then marry me,” but he didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to put his needs before hers. He cared too damn much.

  “I’m sure we’ll think of something, love.”

  “ARE YOU SURE I can handle things while you’re out, Randall? I’m nervous about being left alone in the store. What if I do something wrong? What if that nasty Mrs. O’Connor decides to stop in to pick up her mother-of-the-groom dress? She’s so snooty. I always feel like poor white trash around her.”

  Randall flashed the worried woman an empathetic look, knowing exactly how she felt. “Joan O’Connor isn’t one of my favorite people, either, Sally, but she’s a good-paying customer, and we can’t afford to alienate her. She’s got lots of rich friends who are every bit as annoying as she is, and who are likely to shop here on her recommendation.

  “Trust me. I’ve had my share of the woman’s pointed looks and sly remarks. Just ignore her if she happens to come in. She’s obviously very unhappy, even with all her money and supposed standing in the community.”

  Then to lighten the moment, he picked up a piece of silk fabric off the chair, draped it around his shoulders like a fur stole and mimicked in a falsetto voice, “My dear, dear girl, don’t you know who I am? The O’Connors have lived in Morgantown since before coal was invented.” He rolled his big blue eyes, and Sally burst out laughing, taking the fabric he handed her.

  “I won’t be able to keep a straight face now, if she does come in. Thanks.”

  “I’ll only be gone a couple of hours. I’ve got to run over to the school and pick up a few things. If you get stuck, give me a call on my cellular.” He held the palm-size phone up for her inspection. “Isn’t this just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” he asked, clipping it to his belt. “And so très chic.”

  Sally nodded absently. Randall liked waxing poetic over his newly acquired purchases, whether that be telephones, underwear or flavored coffees, and she’d gotten used to tuning him out. Meredith had advised when she’d hired her that tuning Randall out was the only way she’d be able to keep her sanity while working with him. As lovable and considerate as the man was, and as much as she and Meredith adored him, he did have his moments.

  “All right,” she finally said. “But don’t blame me if Meredith fires both of us when she gets back from Baltimore.”

  “Meredith has her hands full right now. The last thing she’s going to be thinking of is this place. Did you see her rapt expression when she told us about the private jet? She was so euphoric she could have flown to Baltimore on her own power.”

  “Mr. Morgan’s been very kind.”

  “He loves her. He’s just too stupid to realize it yet.” He let loose with a deeply dramatic sigh. “Armani suits and Hermes ties are wasted on a man like that.”

  Sally wondered why Randall always reduced everything to clothing. It made her wonder what he thought of her own pitiful designerless wardrobe. “You’d think when two people are in love, as Meredith and Adam Morgan obviously are, things would go a little more smoothly for them,” she said.

  “I happen to know two other people who are in love, and who aren’t doing a darn thing about it,” he remarked, noting the flush rising to her cheeks now that she’d finally figured out who he was talking about.

  Randall was having one of his moments, Sally concluded, trying to keep her temper in check. “I’m not ready. And you don’t know if Peter’s in love with me. We haven’t known each other that long.” But oh, it was a magnificent notion. The attorney was everything she wanted in a man—kind, caring, great with children. Not to mention sexy as all get-out.

  “Don’t I? The man practically drool
s every time he comes in here. If you don’t put him out of his misery soon, I may have to take the poor guy out back and shoot him.”

  Sally’s gasp filled the room, making the law student grin. “Randall Cosby, what a terrible thing to say!”

  “Give the guy a break, Sally. Kiss him, make love to him, then marry him. Peter’s a good guy. And his threads are top-notch. You can always judge a man by his clothes.”

  Sally was tempted to say something to that last comment—Dwayne had been a clothes horse—but Randall was already out the door before she had the chance.

  She shook her head at the absurdity of the man’s comments, no matter how well-intentioned. Marry Peter? How perfectly ridiculous. As if he would actually want to marry someone like her. Someone with such a sordid past.

  Putting Randall’s unsettling comments out of her mind, she began straightening up the reception room. Fortunately mornings were usually quiet at the store, and the fact that it was raining would keep business to a minimum until Randall got back. At least that’s what Sally hoped.

  She was on her hands and knees, picking up an armful of bridal magazines that some thoughtless customer had dumped on the floor when the door opened.

  “That’s what I like to see, a woman on her knees. It gives a man such a rush.”

  She stood quickly, not recognizing the voice or the man who’d stepped into the store, and her face filled with color at what his words implied. Filled with instant dislike, she forced herself to be polite, remembering that he was a customer. “May I help you?” she asked in a businesslike voice.

  Brushing droplets of water from his hair, he wiped his hands on his pantlegs. “I’m here to see Meredith Baxter. Is she here?”

  “No,” she replied, wondering how much to reveal. “I’m sorry, but Miss Baxter is out of town on a personal matter. I’m not sure when she’ll be returning. If you had an appointment with her, then perhaps I can help.” Meredith hadn’t mentioned any customer appointments, but she may have just forgotten in all the confusion and rush to get to the hospital.

  Curtis Tremayne cursed inwardly his bad luck. He’d finally intended to put his plan into action and had taken quite a risk in coming into town today. But he’d deemed the act a necessity. And now this.

  Unwilling to give his hand away, he smiled smoothly, and like the chameleon he’d learned to be over the years, changed his manner, knowing how a little charm could soothe even the most skittish of women, as this one appeared to be. She’d been wringing her hands, though he doubted she knew it. He, however, made it a point to observe everything.

  “And who might you be?” he asked.

  “Sally. Sally Jacobs, Miss Baxter’s assistant.” She was actually Randall’s assistant, but that took too long to explain. And it wasn’t any of this man’s business, anyway. “May I give Miss Baxter a message? Have her call you when she returns?”

  The man smiled, somewhat sinisterly, she thought, but Sally couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, despite the facial hair—she hated beards—though his appearance was rather shabby, as though he’d fallen on hard times recently. He smelled of cigarette smoke and that horrible deodorizer that was found in public restrooms.

  “No. No message. I’ll catch up with her another time.”

  “If you’re sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure about anything,” he said before disappearing out the door.

  The stranger’s odd comment coupled with the irritated way he’d said it made the hair on the back of Sally’s neck prickle. Some sixth sense told her that the man wasn’t all he pretended to be. She’d met enough bastards in her lifetime to recognize one when she saw one.

  Heading toward the telephone, Sally was about to call Randall when Peter walked in.

  Flooded with relief, she rushed forward, practically throwing herself into his arms. “Peter! I’m so glad to see you.”

  Peter smiled a bit uncertainly at her reaction. Sally wasn’t usually this demonstrative. Then he noticed how tightly she was gripping his sleeve, how her eyes were filled with something akin to fear, and he wondered what had put it there.

  “I’m happy to see you, too. But you look upset. What’s wrong?” If that ex-fiancé of hers had put in an appearance, he wanted to know about it. Peter intended to make certain the scumbag never laid hands on Sally again. The woman was his. He loved her. And he would do everything in his power to protect her.

  Her breathing was still a bit ragged when she said, “I’m sorry I overreacted. You know how I am.” She smiled apologetically, then asked, “Did you happen to see that man who just left here? The one who looked rather unkempt?

  He shook his head. “No. I had my head buried in my briefcase for a few moments, then Adam called to let me know they’d arrived safely in Baltimore, and I spent the next few minutes talking to him on the phone. Why? Was he bothering you?”

  “I—There was just something peculiar about him. He asked for Meredith, and when I told him she wasn’t here, he seemed almost angered by my response. I probably imagined it, but—”

  The attorney grew immediately suspicious. “What did he look like? Would you recognize him again if you saw him?”

  “Probably. He was quite nice looking actually, even with his beard. But I couldn’t help feeling that he was up to something. I guess after all I’ve been through I tend to get suspicious of people. It’s a flaw I’m trying to correct.”

  A sick feeling of dread formed in the pit of Peter’s stomach at the fact that Sally’s stranger might not be a stranger at all. “I’ll be right back.”

  He hurried out to his car and returned in a matter of moments with his briefcase, which he set on the counter. Retrieving an official-looking document, he handed it to her. “Is this the man who came into the store today?”

  She gasped, noting the name at the bottom. “That’s him. Even with his beard I recognize him. I could never forget those eyes. They were so cold, so remote.” She shivered. “Curtis Tremayne. Meredith told me about what he did. But why would he come here looking for Meredith? Why would he risk getting caught? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Peter wondered the same thing, not liking any of the possibilities he came up with. And not liking the fact that he had frightened Sally. It was obvious Tremayne was up to something and that something involved Meredith. But what? And why? He didn’t even know her.

  But Adam did. And Peter knew Tremayne hated Adam.

  “I’ve got to notify the police about this right away.” And he had to let Adam know that Meredith might be in danger.

  Refocusing his attention on Sally, he gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re safe now. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you know that, don’t you?” She nodded, and he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I want you to call me right away if Tremayne should happen to come back. I don’t think he will,” he added quickly when her eyes widened. “He has no reason to, now that he knows Meredith isn’t here.”

  She swallowed the huge lump of fear in her throat, worried for Meredith’s safety more than her own. “Are you sure you have to leave?”

  The apprehension on her face gave him pause, but he had to get the ball rolling. If the police responded quickly, Tremayne could be caught. “Call Randall and tell him what’s happened, okay? Tell him to come back to the store?”

  “I will. But—Well—Will I see you again?” It was bold of her to ask, but she missed him so much when he wasn’t with her.

  Kiss him, Randall had said. Make love to him. Marry him. Well she had no control over the latter, but there was certainly something she could do about the other.

  “How about dinner tonight?” he asked. “We could go to The Glass House Grill, as we’d previously planned.”

  “I have a better idea,” she said, fingering the button on his suit jacket. “Why don’t you come over to my apartment tonight and I’ll cook you dinner. I’m actually a very good cook.”

  Her lips were so inviting, so delectable, that Peter had to forcibly
restrain himself from hauling her into his arms and kissing her. He knew if he forced the issue, she’d retreat, as she had all the other times they’d been together. “I’ll bring the wine,” he offered.

  “Peter.”

  Her tempting smile and big brown eyes were more than he could handle. Tossing aside caution and most of his better judgment, he wrapped his arms about her, nuzzling her neck and ear, working his way to her mouth, then he paused. “You’re torturing me, Sally. I can’t wait to kiss you any longer.”

  “Then don’t,” she replied, pressing her lips against his, and allowing herself to feel once again.

  It was time. Peter was the right man, she was sure of it. And one other thing she was sure of, if her heart could be believed: she loved him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Uncle Addaamm!” Megan shot her uncle a pleading look, her small face scrunched with frustration. “You’re getting those stupid seeds all over the pages of my coloring book.”

  “It’s ugly, anyway,” Andrew pointed out before returning his attention to his own book on dinosaurs. Megan stuck out her tongue, wiggling it back and forth like a lizard.

  “Sorry,” Adam said, then gazed at Meredith who was asleep in the seat across from him to make certain she hadn’t been disturbed by the kids’ bickering. Sleeping the sleep of the dead, she had not awakened, and he was relieved.

  They’d just spent an emotionally draining few days in Baltimore. Now on their way back to Morgantown in the private jet he’d hired, Meredith was both physically and mentally exhausted after spending the last few days at her mother’s bedside, maintaining constant vigil in case a complication resulting from the transplant should occur.

  He’d done his best to entertain the kids during that time by taking them to the aquarium and an Orioles game at Camden Yards, but the tension surrounding Louise Baxter’s operation had sapped all of their strength and shortened tempers considerably.

  Meredith’s mother had survived the operation. Both Dr. Cushman and Dr. Robertson had given the thumbs-up sign when emerging from the operating room, which had given them hope that Mrs. Baxter was going to make it. Her prognosis for a full recovery was good, though it would take a while before they knew for sure that the transplanted heart wouldn’t be rejected, and she’d be remaining in Baltimore for the time being.