“I’m asking Pam Greenley,” the newcomer stated.
“That’s me.” Pam kept her arms plastered across her damp chest.
“Good. I’m Arielle Chesney with Bridal Magazine. I called you a few weeks ago about doing a story on your shop.”
She’d called, but she’d never said she was coming today!
Just shoot me now. And not with a camera.
Pam would have closed her eyes in horror, but was afraid doing so would make Michael shove her head between her knees again.
“I was hoping you might have some time now to talk to me,” Arielle continued.
“She’s really busy—” Michael began. Pam shoved the vase at him with enough force to make him take a few steps backward.
“Of course I have time.” Pam stepped away from the mayhem in the gazebo. “If you’ll just step into my office, I’ll go put on a clean T-shirt.”
“I saw a police car pulling away as I arrived,” Arielle noted.
Pam flashed her a confident smile. “Yes, that was our town sheriff. Buying some flowers for his wife. And it’s not even her birthday or their anniversary. Wasn’t that sweet of him? But he’s a bit of a bull in a china shop, so I hope you’ll excuse the slight disorder.” By now Pam had steered Arielle into her office. Only then did she recall that she had papers piled on the chair designated for visitors. She quickly dumped them on the floor, where they slid drunkenly to one side. “I’ll just have my assistant bring you some tea and I’ll be right back.” Unless I run screaming out of town, never to return.
“Jessica.” Pam grabbed the nineteen-year-old out in the workroom as if she were a life preserver on the Titanic. “Please get some tea for our guest. She’s with Bridal Magazine and she’s here to talk about doing a story about Bloomers. So we have to be on our best behavior.”
“Best behavior?” Jessica popped her bubble gum. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Yeah. What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked from right behind Pam.
“Why . . . are . . . you . . . still . . . here?” Pam bit out each word as if it were a giant boulder.
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to faint again.”
“I never fainted in the first place.”
“Only because I stepped in and saved the day.”
“No, because I was never in any danger of fainting.”
“You were standing there swaying and then your eyes did that fluttery thing and closed.”
“I was thinking.” About kissing you, but I’m totally over that now. “Listen, I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ve got to go change.” She grabbed the only remaining T-shirt from the cabinet for employee use and rushed to the tiny bathroom at the back of her workroom.
Again, memory came too late as she realized that the new order of Bloomers T-shirts hadn’t come in yet and the one she was now wearing was extra small . . . which made her breasts look extra big.
Thankfully, she found a smock hanging from the back of the door, which made her look more like a lab technician and less like a Hooters girl in a nursing bra.
Good. Fine. Breathe. You can do this.
She returned to her office to find that Michael was sitting on the edge of her cluttered desk, his denim-covered butt dangerously close to her ceramic Hershey’s Kiss paper-clip holder, chatting away with Arielle.
What kind of name was that anyway? Arielle. Sure, it was okay for the Little Mermaid, who her nieces loved. But not for an adult.
Not that Arielle was acting like an adult. She was gazing up at Michael with admiration and that female hunter look that said she was on the prowl and he was fair game.
Okay, calm down. Having hostile feelings for the person who might be doing a story about her store in one of the nation’s leading bridal publications was not a good thing.
Priority number one: get rid of Michael. “Thanks for stopping by, but I know you’ve got to go now.”
“But she just got here,” Michael said with a killer smile aimed at Arielle.
Pam clenched her fists before reminding herself to remain calm. “I wasn’t talking about her, I was talking about you.”
“Well, then, relax, because I don’t have to leave now.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t. Look, your assistant brought me tea.” He held up the mug for her appraisal.
“She was supposed to bring it for Arielle.”
“She has some, too.” He nodded in the reporter’s direction.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started,” Arielle said.
“I don’t mind at all. Good-bye, Michael.” The look Pam gave him promised him severe bodily harm if he didn’t vacate the premises immediately.
“He can stay,” Arielle purred.
“He doesn’t have anything to do with the business,” Pam quickly pointed out.
“I realize that. He told me he’s a corporate troubleshooter from Chicago who’s in town for his cousin’s wedding.”
And did he tell you that he sleeps with women and then takes off without a word? I’ll bet he didn’t brag about that character trait of his, did he?
“I couldn’t help noticing that you’ve got the book How to Hook Your Guy on your desk,” Arielle said. “Are you a fan?”
Pam played dumb. “Of what?”
“The book.”
“I haven’t even glanced at it,” Pam flat-out lied. She’d read enough to deem the book a total wall-banger. “A client gave it to me as a joke.” A bad joke.
“I’ve heard of it,” Michael volunteered.
The look she sent him said, “Who cares . . . go away before I hurt you.”
“There’s a lot of buzz building around it,” Arielle said. “I hear the author tells it like it is, giving women insights into the way men think.”
Men don’t think. They react. Pam had to bite her tongue to refrain from telling Arielle that. Let the mermaid-woman discover the sad fact for herself. Just not with Michael.
Arielle switched on a mini recorder. “So, Pam, tell me about your business. What made you decide to open a bridal floral shop?”
“My family was already in the nursery business. Greenley’s Garden Center was actually started by my grandfather over forty years ago. I’ve always loved flower arranging.” No point confessing that she didn’t have a green thumb and couldn’t grow a thing. She’d accidentally killed more houseplants than she could count. Schefflera shuddered in terror when she walked by. Philodendron shriveled up at the mere sight of her. “So I decided to branch out into my own specialty store.”
“Why bridal arrangements? Is she a romantic?” Arielle directed the second question to Michael.
Taking a page out of a guy’s playbook, Pam reacted without thinking. Michael had to go. Bumping his elbow resulted in his tea spilling onto his crotch.
She hadn’t chosen the location of the spill, just the mishap.
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that.” The only reason she dabbed her paper napkin on his crotch was because she saw Arielle leaning forward about to do the same thing. “You better go change.”
Michael’s look told her that he knew this had been no accident and that while she might have won this round, the battle between them wasn’t over. It was just beginning. And it was going to get messy.
Pam walked into her kitchen to find a mess on the floor. There was nothing like dog poop to bring you back to earth in a hurry. “I was only five minutes late. Okay, twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. Forty tops. You couldn’t wait?”
Rosebud, the award-winning dachshund in the Little Wieners category in the Serenity Falls Wiener Dog Race last November, merely looked at Pam and gave her rottweiler-strength bark—the one that had sent the cable guy running from the house in terror a few weeks back.
It didn’t have the same effect on Pam. “Don’t give me that. I am not buying that excuse for one minute.” She reached for the paper towels. “This is payback, isn’t it? Because I wouldn’t let you maul my only
pair of designer shoes. They were Jimmy Choos. Do you understand? Not Jimmy C-h-e-w-s,” she spelled out.
Rosebud wagged her tail.
“Dogs are supposed to be supportive of their owners,” Pam continued as she cleaned. “Loving and blindly loyal. That’s why I - didn’t get a cat.”
Rosebud growled at the sound of the word cat. The dachshund had had a thing about them ever since the big orange tom next door had refused to back down when Rosebud had raced over to scare the feline. Instead the doxie had freaked at seeing the huge cat and ended up running back home while the aptly named Moose sat and washed his face and whiskers with insulting indifference.
At the time, Pam had read the cat’s mind. “Dog? You call that little sausage a dog? Hah! Puh-lease. I make larger deposits in my litter box.”
“Hey, I was supportive of you when you came back with your tail between your short little legs,” Pam reminded her doxie. “You’re not tall and willowy in the dog world. You’re short and stubby like me. That’s why we girls need to stick together and not create stress. I don’t need any more stress right now. Did I tell you that Michael is back in town? Or that I’m now so far gone that I’m actually confiding in my dog?”
When Pam’s phone rang, she stared at it with some trepidation before checking the caller ID window. When she saw who it was, she grabbed for it. “Julia, thank God!”
“What’s wrong?” Julia Wright asked her.
Julia was one of Pam’s closest friends, a librarian at the local library. She’d taken off with town bad boy Luke Maguire a little over a month ago, riding off into the sunset on the back of his big, bad Harley.
Okay, so it hadn’t actually been sunset, but still . . .
Thank God for cell phones! And unlimited long-distance with no roaming charges. After Pam had made an idiot of herself by falling into bed with Michael at the high school reunion a month ago, she’d immediately called Julia, who’d been in Montana or Wyoming or Colorado . . . one of those western states.
Despite the miles between them, Julia had calmed Pam down.
“What’s wrong?” Pam repeated, tossing the paper towel- wrapped dog poo into the garbage and leaving the kitchen. She’d have to wash the floor before she went to bed tonight, but she - couldn’t cope with that chore right now. “Michael’s back in town.”
“Oh no.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Why is he there?”
“Not because of me, that’s for sure. He came because he had to act as a last-minute stand-in as best man at his cousin’s wedding.”
“Have you seen him?”
“Seen him and had him throw water on me. He said he did it so I wouldn’t faint.”
“Faint? You never faint. You’re not the fainting kind.”
“Thank you. My point exactly.” Pam sank onto a floral slipcovered chair and slung her legs over the ruffled arm. “He’s an idiot.”
“Yes, he is. So do you still lust after him?”
“Yes.”
“Bummer.”
“You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now. I mean, the man is only looking for a one-night stand. He claims he called me—”
“Wait, he said he called you?”
“Only once.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Exactly. Where are you?”
“Idaho. The Sawtooth Mountains.”
“I guess that’s too far away for you to come over tonight, huh? Even for Pop-Tarts?” They were Julia’s favorite food—morning, noon, or night.
“A little far, yes.”
“I miss you.”
Julia’s voice softened. “I miss you, too.”
“Is Luke treating you right?” Pam demanded. “Because if he’s not, he’s going to have to answer to me and to Rosebud.”
Julia laughed. “Luke has already figured out that you’re a softie, but he knows that Rosebud has the heart of a rottweiler. He wouldn’t do anything that would set her off.”
“Thanks for that dog toy you sent her, by the way. And your mom was doing fine the last time I checked on her. I’ve got five weddings this weekend, so I’m feeling totally overwhelmed at the moment. I actually had two of the brides-to-be fighting in my gazebo today. The sheriff came. And did I tell you that Bridal Magazine may be doing a story on me?”
“You said someone had called you, but no details.”
“She showed up this afternoon out of the blue.”
“When the brides were fighting?”
“Luckily, no. But when Michael was still there.”
“What was he doing there?”
“Aggravating me.”
“Sounds like he succeeded,” Julia said wryly.
“I’m tired of letting him call the shots. He’s only been in town since this morning and he’s already disrupted my work twice. I need to do something about that.”
“Uh, Pam, I know that tone of voice. Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Julia warned.
“Like have sex with him again? Don’t worry about that. My pants are staying on. And so are his. Well, I guess I can’t control that . . . his pants, I mean. But even if his come off, mine are staying on.”
“Ooo-kay then.”
Pam looked over to see that Rosebud had taken Pam’s new straw purse in her mouth and was now happily dragging it to her. “I’m not taking you for a drive tonight. I need to go see Michael by myself,” she told her doxie.
Rosebud dropped the purse at her feet, ran back down the hall and returned with her leash in her mouth, reminding her owner that she still owed her a walk. “Hold on a sec, Julia, I just have to put the dog’s leash on.”
Pam continued her conversation as she took her dog out, with the leash in one hand and her cell phone in the other.
“I’m outside now, so I have to watch what I say,” she told Julia in an undertone.
“I understand. Serenity Falls does have a way of finding out things.”
“Not everything.”
“So tell me more about this reporter from the magazine.”
“She has the hots for a certain person . . .”
“Michael?”
“Bingo. She just met him this afternoon, but he seems to have that effect on females.”
“Him dating the reporter could make things complicated.”
“No kidding. That’s why I’m going to warn him away.”
“Will that work?”
“Probably not, but I have to try. Then I have to figure out how I’m going to be in two places at once tomorrow morning—at the shop completing the revised centerpieces for a reception and meeting the Bridal Magazine reporter for breakfast.”
“Two places at one time . . . if you get that trick done, let me know.”
“Any last-minute advice?”
“Not really. You’re speaking to the woman who threw stones at Luke’s window to get his attention.”
“Hey, I might use that . . .”
By the time Pam got Rosebud back home, quickly washed the kitchen floor, answered a dozen phone calls from frazzled brides and completed notes on the revisions to the various floral arrangements, it was a little after ten.
Michael was probably back at the town’s only bed-and-breakfast by now. Mabel had told her that he was staying at the Granite Inn, so named because of the building’s construction, and not at the Tip Top Motel.
Mrs. Zoranski ran the Granite Inn with skill and lots of cleaning products. The place was immaculate enough to perform surgery on the hardwood floors. And the inn had nice four-poster beds . . .
Forget the furnishings. What if mermaid-woman Arielle was in there with him? On one of the four-poster beds? How could Pam find out?
He had a ground-floor room. Mabel said so. Which meant Pam could go by and happen to glance in his window, if the drapes were open. If they weren’t . . . well, she’d cross that bridge when she got there.
Rosebud was not pleased at being left behind when Pam tried to sneak out the back door.
Wait, maybe that would be a better cover, to take her dog out for another walk. What could be more normal than that?
Ten minutes later, she’d walked to the Granite Inn. Thankfully, there was only one guest room located on the main floor. The drapes were open. The light was on. Pam and her dog moved closer until she was standing beside the large rhododendron bush. Where was Michael?
A pair of men’s jeans were tossed onto the bed. Was he in the shower?
The bathroom door opened and a man emerged . . .
Eeew, yuck! It was Mr. DiFranco, Joy’s soon-to-be father-in-law. An ape-like pest exterminator with a flabby beer belly and an apparent aversion to using towels to cover any part of his hairy anatomy.
Putting her free hand to her eyes, Pam stumbled backward, away from the terrible ugly-naked-guy image that threatened to give her nightmares for all eternity.
A second later, she squealed as a hand grabbed hold of her butt.
“What are you doing peering into strange men’s windows at this time of night?” Michael asked her, his breath warm in her ear.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Take your hands off me or I’ll sic my vicious dog on you!” Pam’s voice was fierce.
“What vicious dog? The one rolling on her back at my feet?”
Sure enough, there was Rosebud: her tummy in the air, begging for attention. The traitor. Another female instantly overwhelmed by Michael’s spell.
“What’s going on out there?” The demand came from Mr. DiFranco, who’d opened the window to his room and stuck the top half of his naked body out of it.
Pam instantly closed her eyes. “I am not fainting,” she warned Michael in case he got any ideas of shoving her head between her legs again. “I just can’t look at him,” she muttered. “Not again.”
“Everything is fine, sir,” Michael called out.
“Well, keep it down out there,” Mr. DiFranco grumbled.
The window closed with a thwack. The kind of thwack Pam wanted to give Michael. “I told you to get your hands off me!”
Pam turned to shove him, but instead tripped over the dog’s leash and tumbled forward. She instinctively put her hands out to stop her fall. Her palms met Michael’s abdomen and she took him down with her, landing on top of him with enough force to make the air whoosh from her lungs.
Catch of the Day Page 3
