She glanced up at the Howard Miller Garden Italiana antique-style clock with its large, elaborately rendered numbers and hand-painted flowers in the center. She had similar flowers painted on the sign hanging outside her store, and the same style was used on the word BLOOMERS.
She’d restored the wedding gazebo to its prefight order and was now focused on the flowers for Brittany’s wedding at ten tomorrow morning. Brittany, who wanted a honker-size bouquet. Because in her world, size mattered.
Pam’s workroom was filled with the mellow sound of Norah Jones as she coaxed a cluster of pink roses and white freesias into place for the dramatic cascade bouquet she was creating. This was her favorite time—working with the flowers, making the image she saw in her head a reality before her.
Her concentration was broken by male hands on her waist and a husky voice in her ear whispering, “So I’m gay, am I?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Pam decided her best offense was a good defense. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Whispering.” Michael’s warm breath on her ear gave her goose bumps and made her knees go a little wobbly. Or maybe that was caused by the two Red Bulls she’d consumed for breakfast. “Not talking, whispering.”
“Right. Stop it. Right now.” Taking several steps back, she waved green floral foam at him, not exactly a weapon of choice by most self-defense experts.
“I know everything.” He looked smug. Sexy and smug in jeans and a Cubs baseball shirt. “Mabel caved in to my superior interrogation techniques.”
“What did you do to the poor woman? Tie her to a chair and shine a bright light at her?”
“It wasn’t necessary. She told me that she overheard you telling someone at the Serenity Cafe that I was gay.”
Pam refused to be intimidated. “Mabel’s hearing isn’t the best.”
“She put it on her blog today.”
“Really? She finally admitted on her blog to having a hearing problem?”
“You know what I’m talking about. What I want to know is why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Start a rumor that I’m gay when you know I’m not.”
“Have I mentioned to you that I have five weddings to prepare floral arrangements for this weekend? And that three of them are tomorrow? Do you realize that the wedding business is a forty-five-million-dollar industry? As a number-crunching problem-solver, you should find that exciting.”
“You know what really turns me on?”
I don’t know and I don’t care. That was what she should say. But for some reason the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. Instead she feebly muttered, “I really do not have time for this right now.”
“Just answer the question. Who were you talking to? Who did you tell?”
“No one.”
“You just stood in the middle of the cafe and announced to - everyone there that I’m gay?”
“Of course not!”
“Then who did you tell?”
“I didn’t say that I told anyone.”
“I’m saying you did. Mabel says you did. Wait a minute, weren’t you meeting that reporter for breakfast at the cafe? Did you tell her? Did you tell her that I’m gay?”
Pam refused to answer him.
His expression turned thoughtful. “Now why would you do that? Why make her think I didn’t like having sex with women?”
“I was doing her a favor.”
“Really. How do you figure that?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Yeah? Well, I can fix that.” He kissed her.
Instant fire. Immediate passion. The feel of his mouth on hers carried enough voltage to light up the entire Eastern Seaboard and then some. Her lips parted. His tongue stroked hers with sultry hunger as he scooped her up and set her on the worktable.
Wrapping her legs around his hips, she tugged him closer, moaning with delight as he did that nibbling caress she loved so much. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, her feminine mound pressed directly against his arousal. His hands clenched against her bottom as he tilted her back, increasing the angle of intimacy in their sizzling embrace.
Everything about him communicated manly stuff like strength and power and sex that made her inner female howl for release. The hard ridge beneath the placket of his jeans throbbed a feed-the-need message that her body instantly recognized and responded to. Primitive jungle drums of desire pulsed through her, erasing any thought of restraint.
No one made her feel the way he did.
She shoved her hands through his hair, loving the feel of the surprisingly silky strands between her fingers. Michael shifted his hands, moving them under her T-shirt and focusing on unfastening her bra. He’d almost completed that task when Jessica walked in.
Pam would have been oblivious to the newcomer were it not for Jessica’s startled gasp.
Pam’s eyes shot open as her assistant stood there speechless for a minute.
“I suppose I can’t, like, put this in my blog either,” Jessica noted with regret.
Pam quickly unwrapped her legs from around Michael’s waist and hopped off the table. Her wobbly knees wouldn’t quite support her so she had to hang on to the table edge for support. “You suppose correctly.”
“So he’s, like, not gay?” Jessica asked. “Never mind,” she quickly added after seeing Pam’s glare. “I’ll leave you two alone then.”
“Good idea,” Michael said.
“Bad idea,” Pam said, shaking her head so fiercely she got a little dizzy. Or maybe that was due to the lack of oxygen caused by their wild kiss. “Stay here, Jessica. We have work to do.”
Michael just smiled, as if he knew that she needed reinforcements to keep her from surrendering to him. Or jumping his bones.
And the knowledge was enough to let him know that he’d won this round. So he left, the look in his gray eyes a promise that this battle was just beginning to heat up.
“So what wedding is all this stuff for again?” Algee Washington asked her early the next morning. People said that he resembled Michael Clarke Duncan, that actor in The Green Mile. With his tough, tank-like body and gleaming shaved head, Algee was an imposing figure. But Pam knew he was actually a marshmallow at heart.
Algee had offered her the use of his brawn and his van to help transport the flowers to the church for the setting up. She already had the Bloomers van filled to capacity and had needed more help.
As a fellow business owner, Algee could relate. His Cosmic Comics store was down the street from Maguire’s.
He was a great buddy to have—generous and funny. And fond of matching up surnames for outlandish nuptials. “Is it the Hardy-Butz wedding?” Algee asked. “Or the Small-Fry wedding?”
“Neither.”
“No?” He easily transported another load to the van. “Then it must be the Baird-Bottoms wedding.”
She grinned and shook her head.
Algee tried again. “How about the Weiss-Guy wedding? The Knott-Reddy wedding?”
That last one described Ann’s cold feet. Pam only hoped that she’d gotten over that by now. Her ceremony wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon at the Serenity Falls Country Club.
Pam had four nuptials to get through before that. Three of them today.
She shot Algee a grateful look. “Have I thanked you for being such a pal and helping me out?”
Algee nodded. “Yeah. Several times. But don’t let me stop you from doing it again.”
She gave Algee a hug almost as huge as he was. “You’re such a great guy. Why hasn’t some girl snatched you up yet?”
“Because she hasn’t read this book.” He pulled How to Hook Your Guy out of the garbage, where she’d tossed it earlier that morning.
“That book?” Pam grimaced. “It’s awful.”
“It might not be politically correct, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth.”
“The guy who wrote it isn’t even married. So where does he get off telling wome
n how to get the man they love to propose to them?”
“Stephen King didn’t have to kill anybody to write about it.”
“The entire concept of pretending to be someone you’re not in order to hook”—she used air quotes—“a man is revolting. Whoever wrote this book is a self-centered, heartless and emotionally void robot. All he does is talk about what men want. Men want sex. Men will ask for your phone number and then never call you. Men will watch sports. Men want you to fulfill their needs without having to fulfill any of yours.”
“Are we dissing men?” Julia’s younger sister Skye—the wild one—asked as she strolled in. “Algee told me you could use some help today, so here I am. Sounds like I arrived just in time.”
Pam eyed her cautiously. Today Skye was dressed fairly normally, in jeans and a GOT BRAINS? T-shirt. Even her short spiky hair wasn’t the neon red it had been a few weeks ago, but a more normal auburn color.
Pam knew from past experience and from what Julia had told her that Skye was a free spirit who didn’t like being told what to do. She was also the single mom of a four-year-old toddler nicknamed Toni the Biter.
“Where’s Toni?” Pam asked.
“Angel is watching her,” Skye replied.
Pam still couldn’t get used to referring to your mom by her first name, but then the Wright family was not your run-of-the-mill sort.
“You can stop looking at me as if I’m going to demolish something,” Skye drawled. “I can behave for short periods of time.”
Mary Delaney, the part-time assistant that Pam would normally have used, had called very early to say she had food poisoning and couldn’t even leave the bathroom let alone her home. Pam had made a few phone calls, but no one else was available on such short notice.
“Thanks. It’s nice of you to volunteer to help me out like this,” Pam told Skye.
“Tell her how nice I am, Algee.” Skye bumped her hip against his.
“She’s hell on wheels, but I think she’ll be okay for today,” Algee replied.
“Some friend you are,” Skye muttered. “So why are we dissing men?”
“It’s all about this book.” Algee held it up for her.
“Hey, I’ve heard about that. How to hook a guy, huh? What are they? Dumb fish? Smart sharks?” She thumbed through the pages. “Hey, listen to this. It says here that men quickly categorize women as lifetime mate potential or just good-for-now girls.”
Was that how Michael had viewed her? Pam thought. As a good-for-now girl? Good for a one-night stand but nothing more? And since he was now back in town, why not kiss her again to try and get her back in bed one more time?
Michael had said he’d heard of the book. Did that mean he’d read it? Agreed with what was in it?
He didn’t even have to be present to mess up her thoughts.
As if reading her mind, Algee said, “Yo, did you know that Mabel put you in her blog today? Said that you and Michael were rolling around in the garden over at the Granite Inn in the middle of the night.”
Pam almost said that it hadn’t been the middle of the night, before stopping herself from inadvertently revealing that Mabel’s story was true. “What are you doing reading that stuff?”
Algee shrugged. “As a temporary member of the town council, it’s my duty to keep on top of local news.”
“Now you sound like Walt,” Pam noted.
Algee’s expression was an outraged/insulted combo platter. “Hey, if you’re gonna insult me, I’m outta here.”
Skye just rolled her eyes. “Men are sooo sensitive.”
“Look, we only have a limited time to set everything up at the First Baptist Church, so we need to get moving,” Pam said.
At the church, Skye was surprisingly good at following directions and fastening the fuchsia tulle pew bows along the aisle.
“Tell me again what fuchsia is?” Algee asked as he easily hefted a large floral display and set it behind the altar.
“It’s a flower and a shade of pink,” Pam replied as she eyed the area to make sure it matched her plans.
Algee shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
“We need another box of pew bows,” Pam told Jessica, who had met them at the church. “They’re in Algee’s van. I’ve got to speak to the groom about some special arrangements.”
“The homing pigeons,” Jessica told Algee and Skye on her way out.
Algee blinked. “The what?”
“Homing pigeons.” Pam shoved her hair out of her gritty eyes. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night and was guzzling Diet Coke like an addict to get the caffeine fix. She’d used up all the Red Bull energy drinks in town. Cleaned the place out. “Instead of a dozen doves, Brittany’s fiancé Clay wants to release his pet homing pigeons as the couple walks out of the church. They’ll circle overhead—”
“And shit on the crowd below,” Skye noted.
“And head home,” Pam calmly continued. “Don’t give me that look. It’s not my wedding, it’s theirs, and my job as the floral designer is to help them fulfill their idea of a dream wedding. Clay and Brittany are a young couple very much in love.” And not very smart, but who was she to judge?
“So now you’re bird wrangler as well as wedding floral designer.” Skye applauded her. “I’m impressed.”
“Clay takes care of the birds. Well, his dad does. I just figure it into the overall event.”
Jessica came rushing in with the box of bows and a frantic look on her face. “I just heard the birds are gone!”
“What?”
“Clay can’t find his birds.”
The next half hour was frenzied: Pam had to keep focused on making sure that the bouquets didn’t get lost, that the flower girl - didn’t eat the rose petals lining the aisle, and that Clay didn’t leave to go find his pet pigeons.
The guests were arriving as Skye and Jessica slipped out the back, having put the last flower in place seconds before.
Pam, dressed in dark pants and a Bloomers T-shirt, was pleased to see everything coming together as she’d planned. Except for the birds.
“I found ’em sitting outside on the railing,” Clay’s dad burst through the church’s front door to announce.
“Good luck,” Pam said as she quickly departed.
She had to race back to the van to get the centerpieces for the reception, which was being held in the church basement.
The tables and chairs were already set up as she and her helpers put the arrangements in place. Pink chiffon had been draped over the tablecloths to pick up the color of the centerpieces of tightly packed squares of pink roses. Tall white glass vases filled with white lilies decorated the reception tables.
The caterer brought in the wedding cake, which Pam helped highlight with an eye-catching circle of tiny shocking pink roses.
One wedding down, four to go.
Next up at noon was Leah’s the-bouquet-makes-my-nose-look-big wedding. Leah was a paralegal from Pittsburgh who’d brought her fiancé to her hometown for a small stylish wedding with an Asian theme. Since there were only forty people attending the reception, redoing some elements wasn’t as difficult as it would have been for a larger event. Pam tweaked the shape of the nosegay bouquet, adding a few more oriental lilies and a bit more Ming fern.
The wedding took place at the All Saints Episcopal Church, with its beautifully elegant steeple rising up toward the intensely blue sky. The reception was right across the street, on the manicured grounds of the public library. The pond with its koi fish provided the backdrop for the tented reception area, where Pam had done simple yet elegant centerpieces of bold orange lilies and Ming fern in ceramic Chinese bowls provided by the bride.
The day ended with Chloe the perfectionist micromanager’s wedding. Her fiancé, Glen, had fallen off the couch last night while having a nightmare about spiders. He’d ended up in the emergency room after landing on and smashing a glass coffee table to get away from those dream-induced arachnids. And he hadn’t even had a single drink.<
br />
It was a good thing Glen wasn’t engaged to Joy, because her mother would have knocked him senseless with five-inch stilettos for ruining her baby girl’s big day with a face that looked as if he’d gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson.
Chloe’s mother was just glad Glen showed up at all; Chloe herself was relieved he wasn’t badly injured and believed the guy when he kept saying he looked worse than he felt.
Pam had the opposite problem. She felt worse than she looked. And she didn’t look all that hot after twelve hours on the job.
At least the flowers looked great, as did Chloe’s fragrant all-white bouquet of stephanotis and roses adorned with ivory satin ribbon. The wedding and reception were held at the Serenity Falls Country Club, where Chloe had chosen to make a statement with the violet-and-blue centerpieces that matched her bridesmaids’ nosegays of blue delphinium and hydrangea and purple lisianthus.
There were plenty of jokes that the colors should have been black and blue, given Glen’s appearance.
Pam was just preparing to leave when she ran into Michael, who came strolling out of one of the other private rooms at the country club.
She was vaguely aware that he looked great in gray linen trousers and a crisp white shirt, but was too tired to really get excited about it. She didn’t even protest when he gently turned her around and began giving her a backrub to die for.
“You’re looking a little tense,” was his understatement of the year.
“Why are you being nice to me?” she muttered suspiciously even as she tilted her head to give him better access.
“Because I like you. I’ve never stopped liking you.” He stopped the massage for a moment, as if surprised by his own words.
Being busy all day had kept her from thinking about the incident with Michael in her workroom yesterday afternoon, when she’d twined her legs around his hips like two yards of wired pink taffeta ribbon wrapped around a bridal bouquet.
But now that his hands were on her body again, those earlier rushes of chemistry came streaking back. But so did an unfamiliar warmth in her heart—because he wasn’t trying to seduce her with his touch, but rather to heal her, and she could feel the difference.
Catch of the Day Page 5
