“And you must be Jorie.” She held out her hand, her grip as soft as her eyes.
“Come on in.” Jorie stepped back from the door. “My desk is over here.” She glanced behind the woman, thinking that Ryan might be with her. He wasn’t, of course, which would explain why Laurel had knocked.
“I’m so nervous,” Laurel said as she took a seat. She wore her hair long and loose, her white T-shirt and plain-Jane jeans so completely casual Jorie wasn’t certain what to think. Was she making a statement? “I was actually sort of hoping Ryan’s mother would be here.”
“She had some errands to run.” Although Jorie wondered if Ryan’s mother had even been told Laurel was stopping by. Something told Jorie she hadn’t.
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Laurel clasped her hands in her lap, looking around her. She appeared curious about her surroundings, her head turning left and right, long hair flicking this way and that. “I’ve only been in here a few times.”
“Really?” And she was engaged to Ryan? Jorie opened a desk drawer to her right. She’d spent a good portion of her weekend getting herself organized. To that end, she pulled out a manila folder with “Clayborne-Harrington Wedding” handwritten on the tab. “I would have thought you’d have been up here tons of times.”
The quick shake of her head brought to mind a young girl. She even smelled like one. Jorie tried to place the scent. Ivory soap. Jorie would bet on it.
“No,” she drawled in her Texas twang, pretty gray eyes meeting her own again. “Ryan keeps to himself when he’s working. Why, I hardly ever see him.”
That must be why their relationship worked.
“I’m thinking you’ll be seeing a lot of this office in the coming weeks.”
The woman looked away for a moment. “Yes, I will.”
What was with these two? They both acted as if they were planning a funeral, not a wedding.
“Let’s go over what I’ve got so far.” Jorie opened up the folder. “We’ve got the barn booked for the last week in October. That means maybe a fall theme.”
Blank stare.
“Or maybe a Twilight sort of theme?”
Blank stare.
“You know, a bit of a Gothic vampire look.”
She was kidding, but the woman took her seriously, shaking her head again, like a dog trying to get water out of its ears. “I don’t think that would work.”
“No,” Jorie muttered, “probably not.”
“I think we’re looking at more of a traditional wedding.”
“Traditional. Got it. Big veil, poufy wedding dress, the man you love holding your hand.”
Laurel’s eyes got big. They turned red. Then they filled with tears. “Yeah,” she said, quickly looking away. “Something like that.”
Okay, what the heck was going on? Had Laurel and Ryan gotten into a fight? Was that why she hadn’t seen him this morning?
“Maybe we should do this another time?”
“No, no,” Laurel said. “I’m all right. It’s just, I’m just—”
And Jorie found herself holding her breath.
What?
Laurel couldn’t stand her fiancé anymore and so she wanted to call off the wedding? She’d changed her views on marriage? She’d met another man?
“Everything’s happened so fast. I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed.”
And why are you so disappointed by the answer, Ms. Jorie?
“That happens,” Jorie said, scooting her chair around her desk and reaching for the woman’s hand. “Just take deep breaths. I promise, this won’t be so bad. We’ve got the venue booked. That’s usually half the battle. Odelia has a list of local caterers and wedding cake designers and entertainment. All you have to do is pick things out. Speaking of that, have you bought a dress?”
“No.”
Oookay, another hurdle to overcome, and quite frankly, rather strange. The woman had been engaged for at least a couple weeks, and she hadn’t gone wedding dress shopping? That was usually the first thing women did once the engagement ring was on the finger. Speaking of that, Laurel didn’t sport a twinkling token of Ryan’s love. Not even a promise of that love, as in a promise ring.
Jorie’s radar pinged again.
“When do you plan to go shopping?”
“Soon.” There was no happy smile. No wiggle of excitement. Not even a giddy sigh of delight.
“Did you need some help?”
“No, no,” Laurel said. “I can do it on my own.”
Okay, so she didn’t have a dress. Didn’t have a ring. And she didn’t have a clue.
Houston, we have a problem.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll line up some appointments with local boutiques. I’ll also come up with a game plan for your wedding. A sort of jumping-off point. You can tell me if you like what I’ve come up with, or not. If you don’t like it, we’ll start over again.” Jorie snapped her fingers. “Easy as pie.”
“Oh, thank you,” Laurel gushed.
“It’s my job.” She gave the woman a chipper smile. “My pleasure.” She closed the Clayborne-Harrington file. “Give me a couple of days for some of this, but come by the office tomorrow for the list of wedding boutiques. That’s going to be your top priority this week—finding a dress.”
The woman nodded, slowly stood. “Thank you so much.”
Jorie stood, too, and no sooner had she rounded the corner of her desk than the door opened again.
“Did I miss the big planning session?”
Laurel turned. “Daddy!”
A tall, gangly-looking man had entered, one who seemed to have aged before his time. He wore a black cowboy hat along with his jeans and blue-checkered shirt, and he had eyes as bright as the lights of New York when he stared at his daughter.
“I hope I’m not too late,” he said.
He was also carrying something, Jorie noticed, something made of tulle that nearly dragged along the ground. A veil.
“We were just finishing up, Mr. Harrington.” Jorie held out her hand. “And it looks like you have something for Laurel.”
Okay, he wasn’t just tall. He was tall. Jorie had to crane her neck back to look up at him.
“How did you sneak up on us so quietly?” Laurel slipped into her dad’s arms, a wide smile on her face. The veil swirled around Laurel’s back, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes closed when she hugged her dad.
The twinges of envy Jorie felt had her looking away.
“I swear I didn’t even hear you come up the steps.”
Mr. Harrington smiled. “I parked around the side.” He stepped back and held out the veil. “I wanted to surprise you with this.”
The veil swirled once again. Like a wisp of early morning fog, it hung there, Laurel’s eyes filling with tears as she eyed it up and down.
“You found it,” she said softly.
“I knew where it was all the time.”
Laurel took the veil gently, reverently. “It’s so beautiful.”
And it was. Jorie had seen a lot of veils, but this one had tiny flowers stitched around the edge—and she would bet those rosebuds were hand-sewn, too.
“I love it,” Laurel said, spinning around as if looking for a mirror.
“In the bathroom,” Jorie gently prompted.
Laurel tore off. Jorie turned to her father. “You must be very proud.”
The man’s light blue eyes found her own. “She’s so much like her mother it makes my heart swell.”
And there were tears in his eyes, too. Jorie swallowed, wondering what it would have been like to grow up like Laurel did. To know you were loved. Forever. No questions asked.
“How’s it look?” Jorie called over the lump in her throat.
“I love it.”
Jorie moved forward then.
Get a grip.
No big deal. If Laurel saw her tears, she’d attribute them to the beauty of the moment.
“Isn’t it stunning?” Laurel asked as Jorie slid up behind her. She was holding it above the top of her head, and Jorie noticed it had a jeweled crown. Nothing too ornate, but fancy enough that it sparkled even in the bathroom’s low light.
“It’s beautiful, Laurel. We’ll have to see if we can find a dress to match.”
Something about her words caused Laurel’s eyes to dim. “Yes. The wedding.”
“To Ryan,” Jorie felt she should add, though why she said that, she had no idea.
“My wedding to Ryan.”
It was as though someone had switched the bathroom lights off. Laurel’s hand lowered. She scooped up the veil in her arms so it wouldn’t drag and pasted a bright smile on her face just before she turned.
“I love it, Daddy. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
The two hugged again.
“Where’s that fiancé of yours, by the way?”
Laurel slipped from her father’s arms once again. “I told you. He has to work.”
The man glanced around as if expecting Ryan to suddenly appear. “Well, I guess I can’t hardly blame him. Weddings are for women to plan.” He clasped his daughter’s upper arms. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you, too. After all these years, to finally realize it was Ryan you loved.” The man covered his chest with his fist. “I couldn’t be happier for you, honey.”
Jorie hung back, watching. There was something in Laurel’s eyes, something that made Jorie’s radar ping again.
“Thank you, Daddy.” She looked away quickly.
“Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
It was like watching an actress get in character. Laurel opened her eyes, turned and smiled. She squeezed her dad’s arm before looking at Jorie, and then, before Jorie knew what she was about, enveloped Jorie in a hug, the tulle from the veil hitting her in the face.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all your help.”
Jorie found herself patting the woman’s back awkwardly. “That’s okay.”
“I mean it, Jorie.” She leaned back, clutched Jorie’s upper arms, the veil dancing through the air once again. “I can already tell you’re a lifesaver.”
As she stared into Laurel’s sweet gray eyes, Jorie saw need there. And maybe even a twinge of desperation. And sadness.
What did she have to be sad about?
“Thank you,” Laurel said.
Maybe she was overwhelmed. Maybe she was the type of bride that panicked under pressure, that was so stressed by the whole ordeal it made her scared. And maybe that was a better way to describe what Jorie saw in her eyes.
“Tell Ryan I’ll see him later.” She smiled up at Jorie and stepped away.
“I’ll do that.”
But as she watched the woman head to the door, she couldn’t help but think there was more to Ryan and Laurel’s story than met the eye. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but something was off. She hadn’t been in the business for ten years without learning a thing or two.
* * *
RYAN STARED AT the stairwell as if he contemplated climbing Mt. Everest.
Go on. She’s not going to bite.
“Damn it.” He patted a spot of dirt on his jeans as if worried about his appearance, which he was not, idly watching the puffs of dust that filled the air.
He’d lost his privacy, he thought, taking the first step. Sure, he’d shared the office with his mom in the past, but this was different. His mom was gone half the time. Now he was forced to share it with a woman who’d been on his mind since her arrival. All morning long he’d wondered how her meeting with Laurel had gone. Did she suspect the two of them weren’t in love? Had Laurel given the game away?
He’d reached the top of steps he couldn’t even remember climbing, found himself pausing outside the door and listening for sounds on the other side. Maybe she wasn’t in there. Maybe she’d left for lunch or something.
If only he were that lucky.
The moment he opened the door he spotted her, sitting at her desk, peeking up at him when she heard the hinges creak.
“I guess I need to get off my butt and oil those.” He pointed to the V-shaped steel.
“Please do,” she said with a tiny smile. “It’s driving me nuts.”
It hit him then. He wanted Jorie. He’d been instantly attracted to her from the moment she’d stepped out of her car. It hadn’t helped to see her half-naked. Something about her laying there, about the way she’d looked all wrapped up in the sheet, had him thinking thoughts he had no business thinking, especially given the fact she was planning his wedding.
His wedding.
He took his hat off, rubbing his hands through his hair before hanging the hat by the door. He almost hated to face her. She wore a fluffy off-white sweater, something that hugged her shoulders and neck and highlighted her smooth, pale complexion.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming in today.”
He took a deep breath, found himself squaring his own shoulders like a boxer about to take to the ring.
“I had some catching up to do.”
His voice came out sounding gruff, but he told himself that was for the better. He didn’t need her getting ideas.
Yeah, it wouldn’t look good if she spotted the way his damn cheeks turned red at just the thought of sitting next to her. He’d turned into a damn thirteen-year-old boy over the weekend.
“I met your bride today.”
He nearly winced, caught himself just in time, and managed to croak out, “Oh, yeah?”
“And her father.”
“Oh?” Lyle had been here? Thank God he’d missed that. He was finding it harder and harder to look the man in the eyes.
“He brought Laurel a present. A wedding veil that I take it her mother wore.”
A wedding veil. For their wedding. Crap, all of this was becoming more and more real.
Well, of course it’s real. You’re marrying the girl.
“She seems…sweet.”
He caught the pause, found himself meeting her gaze despite the sickness in his stomach. She’d put her hair atop her head, some kind of poufy hairstyle with curly tendrils escaping from the back. It made her cheekbones look high and sexy.
Sexy?
Yeah, like a lingerie model.
“I take it you were expecting overbearing and ostentatious.”
To his surprise, she appeared to consider the question, her head tipping to the side. Pearl earrings, the long and dangling type, swung from her ears. What would those ears taste like?
“I don’t know what I was expecting,” she admitted, her pretty blue eyes narrowing for a moment. “But she’s really nice. So is her dad.”
Everyone loved Laurel, including the man who’d gotten her pregnant—or so he’d claimed. He’d run out on her the moment he’d discovered she was pregnant. Apparently, responsibility was all it’d taken for the man to fall out of love. And now Ryan was forced to pick up the pieces.
“She’s a good girl.”
Something sparked in Jorie’s gaze, something that made him instantly regret his words. Damn it. She was too smart. He realized that was part of his attraction.
“She didn’t have a whole lot to say about the wedding.”
No. Of course not. Laurel was too distraught over the whole Thad thing to plan their wedding.
The noose of commitment began to tighten around his neck. Sure, offering to marry Laurel had seemed like the right thing to do, but that didn’t make the decision any less hard to live with. He wasn’t in love with his future wife.
He’d never love her, except as a friend, and had looked upon their marriage as a temporary thing. But it was much more than that, he suddenly realized. Despite not loving Laurel, he would never be unfaithful. He refused to take a chance that someone might find out, might hurt Laurel even though she was no more in love with him than Ryan was with her. Still, he owed her his fidelity, no matter what a sham their relationship might be.
“She’s that way,” Ryan found himself saying. “Not very assertive. You’ll need to guide her a bit.”
Her look seemed to say, “A bit?”
“She’s been very sheltered her whole life.”
So much so that pregnancy outside of marriage had been a calamity. She’d come to him sobbing, so distraught over the whole situation that she’d damn near made herself sick.
“Just be patient,” he said.
But the advice was more to himself than to Jorie. Of course, she didn’t know that.
“I’ve set up appointments for her to visit some of the local boutiques. Does she have any friends that she could go shopping with?”
Did she? Ryan was abashed to admit he didn’t know. “I believe she does,” he hedged. “I’ll make sure she goes.”
Another one of Jorie’s looks, the kind that reminded Ryan of one of his mom’s dogs. Curious. As if she were listening to words she didn’t understand, head tilted to the side.
“Maybe I should go with her.”
That thought had him feeling sick all over again. “No. Don’t do that. I’ll send her out with someone.”
“What about her mother?”
“Doesn’t have one.” He busied himself fussing with his files, though they were all in perfect order and what he needed to do was check feed lot bills against invoices. “Her mom died when she was ten.”
“Oh. That’s horrible.”
That was why she’d been coddled by her father. Ryan had long thought that Lyle Harrington feared to lose his daughter like he had his wife in a car wreck years ago.
“My mom stepped in and became a surrogate mother to her.”
Funny, he’d never thought of it that way, yet that’s exactly what happened. That’s why Laurel felt more like a little sister than a fiancée.
“So, why doesn’t your mom go shopping with her?”
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