I glared at him. “I was on a high because I knew I’d aced my exam and you … well … just happened to be there.”
“You’re so full of crap.”
“Yeah, well, you aren’t much better. You set me up as a babysitter.” I wiggled my finger a few inches from his face. “And don’t tell me it was some esoteric way of your giving me insight into Tony’s world. Then you have the audacity to think you and Tony can flip a coin and decide just whom I might be interested in. You put one of my best friends to bed naked, and what else? You insisted on coming to this wedding after I explicitly told you to stay home. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget that you humiliated me a scant forty-eight hours ago with your dumb-ass three-wishes bullshit.”
The bastard smiled.
“You are so hot when you’re pissed.” He laughed softly.
I reached under the seat and grabbed my purse and tote. “Excuse me.”
Liam reluctantly released the death grip of his seat belt to graciously allow me to exit the row. He laughed harder when I moved back one row and squished myself against the window. The only minor satisfaction I got was watching him battle his phobia as the plane landed at Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta. As soon as the flight attendants opened the hatch, Liam zoomed out of the place.
I dallied, hoping he’d get the hint and not linger around the gate, thinking we’d share a cab or something.
My girlish fantasies came true. When I deplaned, Liam was nowhere to be seen.
After taking the plane, a rolling walkway, a train, and hiking up some stairs, I was finally in the baggage claim area. I noticed two things right off. My luggage was slipping back outside on the conveyor belt, and a gentleman dressed in a suit, tie, and hat was holding a sign with my name printed on it. There were times when my mother’s attention to etiquette paid off. Sending a car for me was an unexpected pleasure.
“I’m Miss Tanner,” I greeted him.
“Simon, ma’am,” he returned in a thick southern accent. “May I take that?” he asked, pointing to my tote.
“I’m fine with it, thanks.”
He just smiled, a display of white teeth against chocolate-colored skin.
“I have two pieces of luggage. But they just went into the twilight zone.”
Simon laughed. “We’re in no hurry.”
“You can’t miss them. My luggage is Barbie pink.”
As Simon went over to stand sentry at the carousel, I dug in my bag, making sure I had the cash for a generous tip. I guessed he was somewhere in his late forties, maybe early fifties, and I also figured he wasn’t raking it in as a livery driver. As an underling myself, I felt a kinship for him and wanted to make sure I showed my appreciation properly.
Once Simon had my bags on his handcart, I followed him out into the thick, humid air I remembered less than fondly from my college days. Yes, Florida is hot, but I have an ocean breeze and the temperatures rarely climb to the hundred-degree mark. Conversely, breathing in Atlanta was a lot like standing outside and sucking in dryer exhaust.
Simon had been kind enough to leave the engine running, so when he opened the door, I was greeted by a rush of fresh air scented with a spicy oriental blend with undertones of orange blossom and cedar wood. A true blend of sensuality and masculinity. Dolce & Gabbana’s The One for Men. Liam’s cologne of choice.
“Took you long enough.”
“What are you doing in my car?” I shot back.
Simon cleared his throat, drawing my attention. “Mr. McGarrity made the reservation, ma’am.”
“Hey, if you’d rather wait around for a taxi or take one of those SuperShuttle things, then—”
“Fine,” I snapped as I got in, carefully dumping my tote and purse between us like a barrier.
“Now is when you say, ‘Thank you, Liam.’”
“Screw you, Liam.”
“We can revisit that issue later.”
“We can revisit that issue later,” I mocked as I unpacked my second bag. “In your dreams.”
I’d already called the hotel laundry and arranged to have the maid-of-honor dress picked up and steamed. They promised to have it back by late Friday morning, which should get me off the hook with my mother.
My room wasn’t a room. It was a one-bedroom suite with stunning views of Buckhead and the downtown skyline. Lucky for me Lisa and her groom were footing the bill. If not, I’d be down in the basement next to a janitor’s closet. Rooms at the Ritz didn’t come cheap. Obviously, neither did this wedding. Other than the outrageous price of my gown and some shoes I still had yet to see, I was out only fifteen hundred and change. More than I would have liked, especially since the dress had no rewearability. I was dreading the whole shoe thing, though I had a small glimmer of hope because Lisa had instructed me to allow for four-inch heels.
There was a knock at the door, so with my bare feet, I jogged through the eight-hundred-square-foot suite and got on my tiptoes to check the peephole.
No one.
There was another knock. Only then did I realize that it was coming from the door on the side of the dining area. I walked over, placed my ear against the cool wood, and yelled. “Yes?”
“Open the door.”
I unlatched the deadbolt and found Liam standing on the opposite side of the double doors. With the door open, the suites could be combined into a spacious three-bedroom. “What are you doing up here?”
“Your sister took care of it.”
“You hit my sister up for a room?” I asked, kinda stunned. Especially since his suite had two bedrooms and mine had only one.
“No, this room was booked for your escort. I explained that Tony wasn’t coming, and she spoke to the hotel. I tried to convince her that this was not my style, but she insisted. And before you decide I took advantage of your little sister, I made sure the hotel will bill my credit card.”
“It’s going to run you close to—”
“Six grand per,” he finished. “I’ll live.” He reached onto the table and pulled a chilled bottle of champagne from the bucket, then grabbed two flutes as he casually brushed by me and entered my room.
With my shoes off, he towered over me, so I quickly corrected that by retrieving them and slipping them back on. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”
“You said you needed liquor to get through dinner. I’m just being a good escort.”
“Wait. Tony’s not coming?”
“He said he tried to call you, but you must still have your phone off from the flight.” He popped the cork on the champagne. “Don’t look so disappointed. You’ll just have to make do with me.”
“I’m disappointed for Izzy.”
“So is Tony. Apparently, she’s locked herself in her room and refuses to talk to him.”
“I should call her.” But first I’d have to take my iPhone off airplane mode.
When I went to turn, Liam gently took hold of my upper arm and passed me a flute of perfectly poured, sparkling champagne. Cristal at that. “You sure are living large,” I teased.
“Actually, your family is. Or the Huntington …”
“Huntington-St. John. A combo of two old, old Atlanta families. David sent you champagne?”
He pointed to the stunning pink roses on the counter and the gigantic basket of gourmet coffees and a new top-of-the-line Cuisinart coffeemaker. “Is that what they sent you?”
“Yes, but I’m family.”
“Apparently, I’m being welcomed by your family.”
I took a sip and let it tickle my mouth and nose before swallowing. “Why isn’t Tony coming?”
He frowned. At least I think he did. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“One of his clients got arrested. Some big hedge-fund guy.”
I silently hoped I wouldn’t have to use my newly acquired criminal skills on that case. Ponzi schemes and math weren’t two of my favorite things to tackle.
Liam picked up the bottle and headed back to his room. “See you for dinner.”
/>
“That’s it? You just interrupted me for nothing?”
“No. I interrupted you because I could.”
If it hadn’t been Cristal, I would have thrown it at the door. But even Liam wasn’t worth wasting a stellar glass of sparkling wine.
The next time there was a knock on my door, it was the front door. I flung it open and gave my sister a big hug. Despite the fact that my mother liked to pit us against each other, Lisa and I had never shared any animosity. We weren’t close like the Brady sisters, but each of us genuinely cared about the other.
Unlike me, Lisa favored our mother. She was dark-haired, with the same aqua-blue eyes. Lisa’s hair was pixie short, and the style was flattering with her small frame. Though she is an inch taller that I am, she’s tiny-boned, making her appear much smaller. I’d say frail, except that her latest passion is doing triathlons with David, so she was quite buff in her simple white sheath dress.
“Thank you for this,” I said, spraying my arm in an arc around the living room. “I feel like a princess.”
With just a slightly strained gait, Lisa walked over to the sofa and placed a gift bag on the coffee table. “Mind if I get a water from the fridge?”
“Let me get it, you’re the bride. Sit down.”
I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, snapped up the special napkin, and then joined my sister on the sofa. I tried to remember the last time we had been in the same room and decided it was about two years earlier when I’d brought Patrick up for New Year’s. Of course, now I understood why he hadn’t been able to travel on Christmas. And that it had nothing to do with his job at FedEx.
“This is for you,” I said as I handed her the water and the napkin from AirTran.
“Why did you write ‘I’m sorry’ on a cocktail napkin?” she asked.
“Mom says I owe you an apology for not shipping my dress up ahead of time.”
Lisa smiled patiently. That was one of the major differences between us. She had the patience of the proverbial saint. “I’ll make sure to tell her you fulfilled your obligations.”
“Thank you.”
“And this is for you,” she said as she nudged the gift bag closer to me.
“You’ve already been overly generous. Thanks for the coffee stuff. You know me well.”
“I also know enough to tell you that your body needs more than caffeine to function.”
“I had a muffin this morning.”
“Finley, you eat like a teenager.”
I patted her knee. “You’ve got healthy covered for both of us.”
“Open it,” she said with giddish excitement.
All I had to do was pull out the tissue and my heart stopped. Inside were not one but two Jimmy Choo boxes. I dove for the shoe box first. Inside was the most stunning pair of sling-back pumps in a glittering champagne color. “Oh, Lisa, these are amazing.” I already had one out of the box and was removing the rib and paper so I could slip it on. It fit like a Jimmy Choo glove. I quickly unwrapped its mate and then took them for a test drive. They had a really cute peep toe and a two-inch platform, so the three-inch heel was deceptively comfy. I had to go into the bedroom to admire them in the mirror.
Lisa followed me much the way she had done when we were kids and I was prepping for a date. “These are beautiful, but you really shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted you to have something special, and I’m wearing the same shoes. The rest of the girls have similar shoes, just not the real thing.”
I hugged her. “Thank you so much.”
“We’re not done yet,” she said, dragging me back into the living room and pulling the smaller box out of the bag.
Inside was a shimmering fabric clutch that matched the shoes. I almost wept. It was small, maybe four inches by five inches, but I didn’t care. It would hold lipstick, a compact, and a credit card. What else do I need?
“This is too much, seriously.”
“I know you,” Lisa countered. “My sister wears only the best.”
If she only knew. Then it dawned on me: Why didn’t she know? Lord knew I’d borrowed money from her often enough. I was suddenly awash in guilt. “Lisa, I really shouldn’t accept this,” I said as I slipped off the shoes and reluctantly began to lovingly rewrap them. “I probably still owe you more than you spent on all my fabulous gifts combined. Especially counting this room.”
“Open the clutch.”
I did. Inside I found a prescription sheet that simply read:
All debts forgiven and see me at the chapel.
My eyes welled with tears. “Now I know you’ve gone way overboard.”
Lisa hugged me. “Those are doctor’s orders. You have to follow them.”
“Does Mom know you’re doing all this for me? She must be hemorrhaging money.”
“David’s family is picking up most of the expense since this is really their show. David and I would have been happy going off to Cumberland Island with a Justice of the Peace. Between Mom and the Huntington-St. Johns, this has exploded into the stratosphere. I make a good living, Finley. Stop thanking me and just accept the gifts in the spirit in which they were given.”
I felt like a real schmuck since all I’d gotten them was a set of candlesticks off their registry. Well, that and the gift I had made for Lisa.
“Since we’re doing this now,” I said, “hang on.” I went into the bedroom and took the small package out of my dresser. Bringing it back and handing it to my sister, I said, “I hear you need something old for this whole wedding day thing.”
Lisa opened the gift with the same precision I imagined she used when removing a tumor. Inside, she peeled back the tissue and immediately began to tear up.
“The lady said that chain should wrap around the stem of your bouquet. So don’t go throwing it out into the crowd.”
She laughed. “I hate to tell you this, Fin, but these days you buy a separate bouquet to toss. The real one gets preserved. You had this made especially for Dad. Are you sure you want to give it away? I can just borrow it and—”
“You keep it.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her the recent history of the medal, namely that it had been stolen only to turn up in the hand of a mummified skeleton. I’d had it cleaned and strung on a delicate chain. “You’re Jonathan’s daughter. You deserve to have something that was his. He was so proud of winning that polo match, it only seemed fitting for you to have it on your special day. Besides, I bought the cottage on Palm Beach.”
Lisa dabbed her eyes and laughed. “Mom said you’d, um, redone the place.”
Oh, I had no doubt my mother had conveyed her opinion of my decor. “It’s really fabulous. I’ll send you pictures. Look at the time! We’d better get downstairs.” I slipped on my pink Betsey Johnsons and grabbed my purse to hunt down my lipstick. “Mom’ll kill us if we’re late.”
“So when are we going to talk about him?”
We stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the elevators. “Him who?”
“Your date. Finley, he is really cute, but nothing like the guys you normally date. Tell me about him.” She nearly stumbled on the carpet. “God, I don’t know how you walk in these things.”
“Balance on the balls of your feet. Weight more toward your toes.”
“Forget my toes. Tell me about Liam.”
“Not much to tell.”
“Does he work at your firm?”
“On and off.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s not a staff attorney. He’s a private investigator. Used to be a detective.”
Lisa locked arms with me. Probably to keep her balance as we walked the long hallway. “That sounds sexy. Does he carry a gun?”
“Aren’t you a healer?”
“Yes, but I grew up watching reruns of Miami Vice.”
“Yes, I’ve seen him with a gun.”
“What college did he go to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is he from?”
“What do you know?”
“He makes my spine melt.”
A deep voice behind me said, “That’s good to know.”
The more I’m with men, the more I think I’ll end up alone … with a cat.
twelve
My head whipped around, and I could feel the heat of total mortification spreading up my neck. Only then did I get the scent of Liam’s cologne. Ohgod ohgod ohgod!
The transformation was amazing. Gone was the funky, faded beach look, replaced by a tempered elegance I would never have expected from Liam. He was wearing a dark gray suit, white shirt, and—the only homage to his real self—a Jerry Garcia tie. He was clean-shaven, but his hair was still quintessentially Liam tussled. Liam looked just like James Bond. Post sex.
“You might want to push the Down button,” he suggested.
I closed my gaping mouth as if it was the first time I’d ever attempted to cure a dropping jaw. Affianced Lisa was on the verge of drooling too, which should have made me feel better, only it didn’t. Nothing seemed to stem the waves of embarrassment crashing inside me. I willed it away, which as it turns out was a bad idea. Once we were inside the elevator and I’d banished my mortification, a serious case of the oh-man-do-you-have-the-best-eyes-ever bore through me like a precision drill, a direct hit on my overtaxed and underused libido.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you ladies,” he said casually, shifting his weight to one foot.
He had on actual shoes. Not flip-flops or deck shoes, but honest-to-God Italian leather loafers. I knew quality, and Lord knew I also knew seconds, and his ensemble was definitely quality. Where and why would Liam McGarrity have such incredible clothing? I couldn’t see him sitting in a pew on Sunday mornings, so what was the deal? I knew he didn’t dress for success at work, so either he was a professional wedding crasher or some sort of closet funeral junkie. The more I got to know Liam I realized how little I actually knew about him.
“… doesn’t he, Finley?”
“Sorry,” I said to Lisa as my hot-guy brain freeze melted. “Doesn’t he what?”
“Look handsome tonight?”
4 Slightly Irregular Page 14
