by Nikki Duncan
“This is going to overextend my budget.”
“If you want to do it right…”
“It’s going to cost.”
“Two large weddings a month would cover it.”
Distrust wasn’t her issue. No. She was suddenly ruled by fear even though the space would be well within her projected budget.
“You’re the landlord?”
“It’s my building.”
“Is that why the price is negotiable?”
He lifted a shoulder going for nonchalance. He’d give her the space for nothing if he thought she’d take it.
“I want to read the lease.”
“I have one in my office.” Did her lack of argument indicate an agreement or would bad luck or a desire for distance from him have her choosing a space elsewhere?
“You were planning this from the start.”
“It pays to think several steps ahead in business. Besides, you’re not likely to find a better deal.”
“You say you’re thinking ahead. Can you still see what’s right in front of you?”
“I do.” A gorgeous woman who needs wooing.
He closed the distance between them and cupped her cheek. The claim that he could be part of this better deal clamored at his tongue’s tip. “Can you?”
Seconds hummed into minutes. She stared into his eyes. He stared into hers.
His fingertips vibrated.
Awareness vibrated.
“What do you say, Lori?” Yes, he saw what was in front of him. The opportunity to win back the woman he’d loved from their first meeting. It may take patience and some creative business, but he would win Lori back. “Is my proposal favorable?”
“I’ll look at the lease.”
Chapter Four
“I can’t believe how easy Masters has made this for you.” Elegance in stilettos, Misty dropped into one of the two butter-smooth leather chairs that had just been placed behind the half-moon shaped reception desks in the lobby. Her skirt slid up her thighs, the blouse draped even as she slouched and her hair looked flawless despite the labor she’d been putting into her warehouse space where she’d create her floral arrangements.
“All the more reason I think there’s a catch he hasn’t yet revealed.” Exhausted from the exhilaration of progress made in a few fast weeks, Lori dropped her sketch pad and clipboard to the desk and claimed a cream-colored chair of her own. Before opening, an ivory satin skirt embroidered with the business logo would be mounted to the front of each desk. “I still worry he’s going to show up to micro-manage everything given how much control he took of things in the beginning.”
“And yet he hasn’t shown himself since handing you the keys.” Misty grinned a grin that bordered on lecherous as two hunky delivery guys carried in a couch. “Which is sort of sad because I still want to get a look at him.”
“You’d have a better time with one of these guys.” Trevor played too many games even in absence. Mind games.
He sent emails and flyers about sales or marketing samples from competitors. Dropped off quick notes of congrats on her progress, which made it obvious he was checking in. Left voice mails with wedding-related thoughts. Always ended the notes and voice mails the same way. Yours.
The information was helpful though it all had her wondering if he was shopping the competition. The notes made her wonder if he was spying on her. The voice mails… The voice mails held the most power and had her listening to his voice over and over, envisioning herself as his bride, as a woman worthy of him. Imagining a deeper meaning to his parting word. Yours.
Damn. She hated insecurity.
Trevor wouldn’t have signed his name on the line by hers if he didn’t believe in her. He wouldn’t have risked the money. Without him, she wouldn’t be waiting for sample dresses or new entry doors etched with her logo to be delivered. She certainly wouldn’t be watching her furniture get set up.
“It’s shaping up to be everything you imagined, Lori.”
“More. It’s so much more.” She still struggled to believe her dream was coming true, and almost said as much, but Misty would only tell her she was crazy.
The construction crew, currently on lunch break, had been working monster hours without complaints, screw-ups or mishaps to quickly transform what had been barren space. Individual doors led into private, glass-fronted suites for consultants to meet with clients for planning. Each suite’s door would have an etching suitable to the wedding element—dresses, flowers, invitations, tuxedos, cakes, catering, music, venue, registry, jewelry, hair and makeup.
The back wall curved gently, with private dressing rooms and attached waiting rooms surrounding Lori’s office. A small break room opened onto the wedding dress sample room and flower cooler section—separated by a free standing, glass wall—complete with rows of tables for arrangement work.
Each dressing room had a back entrance leading into the warehouse and alterations area for the sales associates. Lori was eager to get the dresses in and work with brides to find their perfect choice, or make it for them. Misty had claimed flowers, and other specialists were either already on board or were being trained to handle the other planning areas.
Whether clients came in for one aspect or several, the specialists would work together, updating one central database for each wedding so everyone knew at a glance what plans had been made to ensure everything stayed on track and fit together beautifully.
The groundwork was exhausting, but surprisingly enough she already had brides calling to book appointments. Being busy kept her mind from straying to her feelings for Trevor too often.
“You have another delivery, Lori.”
She looked up to see Mitchell, from building security, carry in a giant bouquet of balloons. Neon pink, sunshiny yellow, teasing teal and passionate purple, the helium filled orbs danced in delight with their strings held in the outstretched fingers of a giant, stuffed white rat, standing on its back legs and dressed in knight’s armor.
A snort of laughter nearly erupted from Lori. Misty didn’t manage to hold hers back.
Lori’s exhaustion lifted away as her spirit was buoyed by the cheerful gift. “Who sent that?”
Mitchell shook his head and placed the ridiculous rat on the floor by her chair before leaving. Few of Trevor’s security experts—all former military—had a sense of humor.
A note was pinned to the rat’s collar.
From one rat in the race to another I can’t wait to see how you’ve transformed the place. Be back soon. Yours.
“How is a woman not supposed to fall for a guy who does these things?”
“She doesn’t fight it if she’s smart,” Misty said.
“He’s engaged to someone else.”
Misty snorted again. “He isn’t going to marry Randy.”
“And yet she came by the other day to see sketches of the wedding.”
That visit had come when Lori had just settled down to work on some dress sketches she intended to frame and hang throughout the store. Taking the chance to get the bride’s insights and opinions had been an exercise in frustration. Randy deflected every question with something like “I think Trevor’s got the right idea” or “I’m just not a flowery kind of girl, so I’d trust you with that.”
When Lori had shown her the sketches of the dresses for the bride and wedding party she’d been working on Randy claimed to love them all and once again deflected with “which is your favorite?” Predictably, whichever one Lori suggested was the one Randy fell in love with.
“Did she tell you straight out it was her wedding?”
“She didn’t say it wasn’t.”
She’d liked Randy, but spending time with her had Lori wondering why Trevor had chosen her. They seemed to have little in common and Randy would never see the humor in being sent a giant rat.
Fingering the rhinestone bejeweled collar winking at her, Lori smiled. It was entirely like Trevor to deliver a note in some unexpected way. Or it had been when she’d been at
Madame V’s. More than once she’d found notes hidden in her clothes or car after leaving him. Once he’d programmed a message to appear on her phone’s main screen and another time he’d found her laptop in her car and set a message to pop up like an error message. Only it had said how much he’d enjoyed their time together. It too had been signed “Yours”. She’d never figured out how he pulled them off. He claimed outrageousness kept people guessing and that wasn’t always a bad thing.
“Are you going to go to him?”
Misty’s laughing question pulled Lori back to the present to find her friend swiveling her chair left and right with a sex-me-up smirk cocking her cherry-glossed lips for the benefit of the delivery men. One of them would surely take her up on the offer before they left. They’d also believe she was as shallow as she played.
“Of course you will,” Misty went on. “No one else could thrill you and hurt you all at once and without appearing.”
Lori pulled her hand away from the gift. “I am neither thrilled not hurt by Trevor.”
“Says the woman wiping the grin off her face and trying to mask the upset in her eyes because she stupidly believes the man she loves is marrying someone else.”
“I do not love him.” Can’t. “If I’m upset, it’s thanks to my business partner’s disregard for his fiancée.”
“Doubtful.”
Lori slitted her eyes at Misty. It was a look she had mastered in her former life, a look that always got her the truth. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Simply put, it means I’m not sure I believe you. In fact, I know I don’t. Which delivery guy do you think I should ask out?” she asked in a rapid and hushed sidebar as the two guys headed out again.
Lori opened her mouth with defenses dancing on her tongue. Misty raised a single finger, effectively silencing her.
“Never mind on all counts. I know you’ve had a rough, hell, a downright shitty life until recently. I’ve known you longer than anyone. Long enough to have an idea of what happened in the job you had, the job that almost killed you. I accept you have secrets you’ll never share.”
“But?” She didn’t want to think about what Misty had gleaned, so she zeroed in on the moment and what Misty would say next. Misty never let an argument go when she thought she was right. There’d be no stopping her now that she’d started.
“But I’m not as dense as you try to pretend.” Misty rubbed the rat’s raised paws before twining one of the many ribbons around the same finger she’d shushed Lori with. “Trevor is more than your business partner.”
“No.”
“He’s the man you were falling in love with a few months ago.”
“You’re wrong.” They hadn’t talked about what had happened, about Lori being held captive and tortured on a mission, but Misty’s word choice suggested she knew more than Lori had divulged.
“He’s the man who knows you well enough to know a traditional bouquet of flowers wouldn’t impact you.”
“You spin pretty tales.”
“He’s the man helping to make your dreams come true.”
“It’s business.” She wouldn’t buy her own arguments if she stitched them in hidden seams of satin and tulle.
“Not entirely on his part.” Misty stood and set a balloon to dancing with a thump. The others instantly joined in. “But you keep lying to yourself if it helps.”
“He’s asked me to plan his wedding. If he has any feelings for me or his fiancée he won’t send me anything else.”
“A point I’m sure you’ll make clear. Just know which side of it you’re hoping is true before you blast him.” Misty sauntered out with her parting shot hanging in the air.
Lori’s heart sped as her blood hammered faster and faster and faster. Misty was right. It was time to set Trevor Masters straight.
“He asked not to be disturbed.”
Trevor glanced up from his computer, eavesdropped on Gina in the outer office. He’d intended to shower off the week of travel, but had been sidetracked by a panicky phone call and the need to send an emergency email. Closed in the privacy of his office he only bothered wrapping a towel around his waist.
Now sidetracked again, he waited to see who Gina was speaking to and how she’d handle it. He only waited a couple beats.
“Then he shouldn’t have insisted on a partnership with me.”
He grinned, easily picturing the scene in his office waiting area. Judging by the shift of their voices, Gina had positioned herself between Lori and his door. And if Lori’s tone was a clear indicator, she was rediscovering her fire. She certainly didn’t sound like the uncertain, nearly defeated shell of herself she’d been the last times he’d seen her.
“I’m sorry,” Gina said. “You will have to come back later.”
“No.”
After hitting “send” on the email, he tightened the towel at his waist and moved around the desk, eyeing the door, half hoping Lori listened to Gina and half hoping she bulldozed inside. Something about her gave him the impression Gina would never know how she’d been bested and why he thought that was one of the many mysteries of Lori he wanted to solve.
“Ms. Mullins.”
“Gina,” Lori stated, mirroring Gina’s calmly modulated tone.
“I have my orders.”
“And still I suggest you move. Or I will move you. Either way I am going in.” She paused for a long moment between each statement, giving Gina a chance to respond.
Trevor glanced between the main door and the door to the bathroom which led to his private apartment. Lori was one of few people privy to the set up. Mostly naked, there would be no escaping her if she got past Gina.
Assuming he was interested in escape, which he wasn’t.
Again calculating the distance he knew well, he considered darting to the bathroom and dropping the towel. If she was going to disturb him she may as well be disturbed.
“I’ll tell him you put up a good fight,” Lori said from just beyond the door. Silent and slow, the knob turned.
Glancing down at the towel, he shrugged and leaned against the nearest chair. If she had issues seeing him without his clothes she’d learn to listen to Gina. He’d have to consider how such an issue played into his plans. His bride-to-be couldn’t take issue with his nudity.
“Trevor.” She addressed him before she was even in the office. “I need—”
Her words died as she flung the door wide. Her mouth dropped. She stumbled to a halt. For the first time since her return she failed to hide her reaction. Instant arousal, judging by her eyes.
Gina silently closed the door, essentially imprisoning him and Lori together. He restrained himself. Instead of reaching out to her and answering her desire, he crossed his arms over his chest. Instead of listening to the wails of his body calling out to her, he sought her gaze as directly as he would any opponent.
“How can I make your day better, Lori?”
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Closed again. She stuck her hands in her pockets where she fisted and unfisted them judging from the shifting of her pants.
Trevor said nothing. Only waited, more pleased than a wolf scenting his life mate. Like a wolf, his body quivered until each hair follicle became a sensory receiver in the chilled breeze from the air conditioner. Lavender and mint. As if she’d just stepped from a garden or kitchen, her sweet scent sauntered around him, brushed teasing caresses over him until goose bumps took over his skin.
“You need to stop.” She sounded far from strong in her conviction. Whatever her conviction was about.
“Stop what?” Dreaming of you? Wanting you more than before?
“Stop whatever it is you’re up to. You sent me balloons.” The last was a verbal foot stomp.
“Ah.” He’d confused her. “I can’t do that.”
The woman who’d testified against her former bosses and tormentors before slipping into darkness—he’d coaxed a few more details out of Breck—deserved to find joy again.
“D
o it anyway.” Her tone strengthened. She advanced on him—slowly—no longer distracted to the point of wide-eyed speechlessness by his near nudity. “You have me planning your wedding. You shouldn’t be sending me gifts or trying to lure me into falling for you again.”
Her voice rose fractionally with each syllable of her tirade.
“What is so wrong with falling for me, Lori?” He raised a brow, thrilled at how quickly his gift had gotten her riled. Damn if he wasn’t going to poke the lioness a bit and dare her into revealing her feelings. “You never complained the first time.”
“This is different. Randy wasn’t around then.” She blanched and rocked back as if she’d been struck. “Was she?” Disgust darkened her demand. “Was Randy around? Were you playing us both? Is that how you came to be engaged so soon? That’s it.”
“It makes sense.” She shook her head and sneered. “You bastard.”
She lunged, landing a solid uppercut to his jaw before he could defend against her. His teeth clacked together.
“Lori.” He grappled for her wrists, barely thwarting a second hit when the towel slipped and he grabbed for it. “Stop.”
“You son of a bitch.” She punctuated her driving words with punches, some of which he blocked one-handed. Others he let go for the sake of keeping the towel secure at his waist.
“I thought you were a better man.”
More than a little surprised by her hand-to-hand abilities, and a little tired of defending against her, he released the towel, gripped her arms tightly just above her elbows and yanked her forward. The towel loosened, but until he let her go it would stay in place.
“Stop.” He pinned her close, fighting the urge to roll his overly-aware-of-her dick against her.
“You suck.”
Not how I’d like. “You’re wrong.”
“Bullshit. You’re only a player. A lousy, predictable, pus—”
He seized her mouth in a kiss and held nothing back. He let his hurt and loneliness, love and confusion, desire and sadness pour forth. When she gasped for a breath, his tongue sought the inner haven of her mouth, where he found a slice of heaven he’d been missing, and thwarted any insults remaining in her arsenal.
