by Barbara Lohr
“Want to circulate?” She plucked at Trevor's elbow. No way did she want to leave him there with Victoria. Josie and Bryn had disappeared into the crowd. They probably knew almost everyone there.
Navigating through the press of people, they ran into Miss Charlotte.
“So is this your hunk?” she giggled. Holding a glass of bubbly, Miss Charlotte gazed at Trevor as if he were one of the appetizers.
Emily didn’t blame her. Trevor was a head-turner. “Trevor, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Whipple, or Miss Charlotte as she’s always been to me. She lives next door to my folks and watched me grow up.”
“And enjoyed every minute of it, sweetheart.” Miss Charlotte practically turned inside out as Trevor bent over her hand. He had a courtly way about him. She wiggled her brows at Emily over Trevor’s head. “Oh, my.”
“So nice to meet you. My girls would love to have a neighbor like you.” Trevor was pouring it on.
“You have children?” Miss Charlotte asked.
Emily loved the way Trevor smiled when he talked about his girls. “Twins. Two little girls. Annabelle and Daisy.” The warmth in his voice would turn the head of any woman.
“Aren’t you lucky?” Her eyes swiveled to Emily with her words. Trevor was studying a tray of appetizers. Tenderloin on french bread. Probably too rare for him and she sighed. An event involving food might not bring out the best in Trevor.
“You didn’t tell me,” Miss Charlotte mouthed to Emily.
A slice of pesto bread was halfway to her lips. “Oh, no. It’s not that.” She shook her head.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her parents. “Mama and Daddy.”
“Those are your parents?” Trevor had been listening. Taking her elbow, he steered her across the room. “Relax, Emily. I’d like to meet your family. It’s okay, isn’t it?”
What could she say? Trailing behind them came Miss Charlotte, popping mini-scones and quiches onto her plate as she passed.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” Mama wrapped Emily in a warm embrace. But her eyes were on Trevor. Emily couldn’t blame her.
“Trevor, I’d like you to meet my mother, Grace Sommers.” This wasn’t what she’d pictured. Why didn’t she feel more pleased? Hadn’t she invited him here to impress people? But the one person she’d wanted to impress was missing.
“So very pleased to meet you.” One look at Trevor and Mama had suddenly become a coquette.
“And I’m Emily’s father. You can call me Buck.” Daddy extended a hand.
“Pleased to meet you, sir.”
The handshake looked firm. Daddy looked pleased.
“Sweetheart, I think you’re going to drop that.” Her father rescued her plate with the bruschetta. Mama was still gaping at Trevor, who didn’t seem to mind a bit.
“Have you tried a chocolate scone, Gracie?” Miss Charlotte waved one in the air.
“Next on my list.” Mama smiled at her neighbor.
They were all having fun.
So why was Emily feeling so bad?
The walls began to close in and her breathing grew tight. Suddenly she felt caught in that scene in Star Wars when the walls crush in on Princess Leia and Han Solo.
Moving in closer and closer.
With no room to move. Or breathe.
How embarrassing. She couldn’t let anyone know.
Daddy looked around. “Great place. Wonder if they do take out.”
Glancing over at Victoria basking in the glow of her success, Emily seriously doubted it. None of this food was hers. But she wouldn’t be the one to tell Sweetwater Creek that their latest entrepreneur was a fraud.
Wesley Rivers from the Sweetwater Gazette was interviewing Victoria while the cameras rolled from WSWT. She was a star. Victor Pomeroy stood to one side of his daughter, looking so proud. The tall, barrel-chested man who could fill a room. With his mane of silver hair, Victor exuded power and good taste. Although she couldn’t recall meeting him, he looked vaguely familiar.
The pressure on her chest and her crazy panic continued to grow. But Emily couldn’t abandon the man she’d invited. “Have you had a panini?” she asked.
Trevor smiled down at her. “Grabbed one as the girl passed. I’m starved.”
“Let’s go back toward the food.” As they meandered to the substantial buffet, Josie and Bryn joined them. Emily must have had SOS written on her forehead. When she put a hand to her face, her cheeks felt warm.
“Are you okay?” Bryn whispered.
“I’m fine.” No way would she admit how miserable she felt right now.
“So what kind of work do you do?” Josie asked, leading Trevor to the table and handing him a plate.
With a shy smile, Trevor opened up to Josie, because hey, didn’t everyone? The waiters circulated with champagne flutes, and Emily grabbed one. Every once in a while, Mama gave her a little wave. The crowd thickened at the buffet table, everyone reaching, everyone pushing.
Emily edged closer to Victoria and her father. “That’s right, Wesley,” Victor Pomeroy was saying. “Victoria uses only the freshest vegetables. And her pastries are baked everyday, aren’t they, Bitsy?”
“Yes, Daddy. Every day.” Victoria’s lashes swept over her cheeks when she lowered her head in modesty.
Bitsy was her nickname? Cripes. Victoria must be mortified. Would they put that on the air and in the paper? Totally unaware of his daughter’s discomfort, Victoria’s father continued to feed copy to the media. He no doubt did this every day.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Jackson.” Standing before her, he looked so handsome in a sand colored jacket over a black mock turtleneck. Was there anything he couldn’t pull off?
He could be scruffy and manly at the same time.
That rogue thought took her places she had no business going.
“Great event,” she managed to get out. “You should be proud.”
“Why?” He threw her a curious look. “All I did was help.”
“Uh, huh.” They both knew he’d done way more than that. Jackson probably held Victoria together when she started to fall apart. Made things right for her, just the way her daddy had as she was growing up. Maybe what Emily was looking at was the passing of the baton.
The walls closed tighter.
“You both did a great job.” She didn’t want to aggravate him. Not in front of all these people. It was none of her business how Victoria pulled this event together. But in Sweetwater Creek if it said freshly made, you were looking at the person who’d baked that pie.
The blatant deception made her sick. Or was that jealousy eating away inside? Maybe she could learn something from watching Victoria’s trickery. Setting her plate on the edge of a table, she pressed one hand softly to her stomach.
“So, is that your latest prospect?” Jackson’s eyes had wandered over her head to where Trevor stood talking with Josie and Bryn.
“He’s a nice guy. We have a lot in common.” Like what? This whole evening felt so wrong. Like day old bakery being passed off as fresh.
“Good. I’m glad.” But he didn’t look happy. Emily should have felt some satisfaction from that peeved look that flickered over his face and then disappeared. But she felt empty and didn’t know why. She liked what she’d seen of Trevor so far.
Well, except for one thing. “He’s allergic to cats.”
“What? Allergic to cats?” Pushing back in surprise, Jackson looked pleased.
The heat in this room was getting to her.
Yes, it must be the heat.
“But your profile mentions that you have a cat.”
“I know.” The prickling in her chest wasn’t a good thing. The last time she freaked out, her panic began with that sensation.
“Maybe he’s not a reader, Em.”
“A marine biologist.” She ran a hand over her damp forehead. “Man, it’s hot in here.”
Jackson cast a glance up at the fans whirring above them. “The air conditioning should be fine.
Climate control becomes difficult when so many people are crammed in an area.”
Crammed. No air. In total panic mode now, she cast her eyes to the front and back. Which exit was closest? She left her champagne on the nearest table. “I have to get out of here.”
“Your face is pink.” His frown told her that wasn’t a compliment. Coming up behind her, Jackson took her upper arms. “Come on, Princess. We’re making a break for it.”
“Okay.” Her head began to spin. “If you say so.”
People’s faces were white orbs of curiosity as they tunneled past, Jackson’s body firm behind her.
I have to get away. I have to get outside.
Fear blinded her. She crumpled against Jackson and he held her upright.
Finally, they reached the back hallway. Waiters raised eyebrows as Jackson powered past them. He rammed open the back door with one arm extended over her head. “You’re so strong,” she mumbled.
“And you’ve had too much to drink.”
“It’s a party.” She didn’t want him to think that. Outside, the cool air bathed her face.
Jackson propped her against the brick wall. “Deep breaths, Princess. You’re fine now. Just take in some air.”
“Okay. Right.” One breath and then another. Above Jackson’s head a million stars twirled. And they shouldn’t be twirling. With each breath, her chest loosened. “Is my face all red?”
He stroked one cheek softly. “You’re fine. How much champagne did you drink?”
“Not much.” This wasn’t about the champagne. “I just...” But no way would she ever admit to Jackson that she had these attacks.
Never. Never.
“You really are Han Solo,” she whispered, head clearing and dark fears receding.
Jackson chuckled, running his hands lightly down her arms. “I like saving you.” He wound one of her curls around his finger.
“Maybe you’re Luke Skywalker. The good guy.” The thought made her laugh. Jackson chimed in, a deep rumble below her giggle.
“I’d rather be Han Solo.”
“Why?” She blinked up at him.
His breath felt warm on her face. “That boy was so bad, Em.”
“You want to be bad?”
He gave a Han Solo hitch to one shoulder. “I could try.”
Now they both were chuckling. A cool breeze rattled through the trees overhead, whisking away her fear. Staring up into his eyes, she felt peaceful. A little sad. And very confused. After all, she’d come here with Trevor. And Jackson should be inside helping Victoria.
A mischievous light glimmered in Jackson’s eyes. “Feeling better now, Princess?”
“Oh, yes,” she sighed as his lips pressed down on hers. The heat of that kiss melted through her body. Emily couldn’t think. Could hardly breathe.
Looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer. Never had a kiss felt so right. He moaned. She was right there with him. When he kissed her again, Emily’s fears fell away. At last. Her entire body was singing those words. She’d never felt so certain about anything in her life.
When he lifted his head, Jackson wore a look of surprise. Amazement might be more like it. “Why didn’t we do this in college?”
“Why didn’t we do this in high school?” She had no clue, except that everything in life seemed to have a perfect time. This was their moment.
“Maybe we weren’t ready,” he murmured before leaning in to give her another kiss. Goosebumps danced down her bare arms.
“Everything all right here?” Trevor’s voice cut through the night.
She froze. “Sure. Yeah.” Raising a hand to flatten the curl Jackson had just fingered, she turned.
Glancing from Jackson to Emily and back again, her date looked confused. “Trevor, this is Jackson Hart. We went to school together.”
“Uh huh.” He stepped up to shake Jackson’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Trevor.”
And as if her life wasn’t confusing enough, Daddy poked his head out the door. The guys didn’t see him. Her father took in the scene, saw Emily’s slight headshake and disappeared. Smart man.
“I’d better get back inside,” Jackson backed away.
Trevor’s eyes slid to the hot car he’d been admitting earlier. “Do you know who owns this.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I could take you for a ride tonight, if you like.”
“No need. I think I’m leaving.”
This was all happening so fast. How could she explain to Trevor what he’d just witnessed? She didn’t understand it herself. Jackson had gone back inside with Emily and Trevor following behind.
While her mind whirled, Emily plunged into the crowd. A petit four in her fingers, Miss Charlotte turned. “You look so pretty tonight.” Beaded butterflies patterned her violet colored top, glittering under the lights when she turned.
But her eyes focused beyond Emily.
“Lottie.” The name was uttered with masculine wonder.
Emily twisted and ran smack into Vince. His gold chains glowed in the overhead lighting and he’d gone heavy on the cologne tonight. “Vince, what are you doing here?”
For a second he looked confused, as if he’d stumbled into a time warp. “I’m paying respects to my niece’s new business. Hi, Emily.”
The petit four in Miss Charlotte’s hand fell to the green carpet. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Vinny, is it really you?”
Whisking a handkerchief from his pocket, he gently wiped her empty hand. “Lottie. How amazing. I read about Raleigh.”
Her eyes glimmered. “And your Leena. Oh, Vinny. I felt so bad for you.”
But the two of them weren’t feeling bad now. No, they were Romeo and Juliet thirty years later and Emily could hardly believe it. Her head pivoted as she compared Vince with Victor Pomeroy. Twins. Who knew? Except Victor Pomeroy had let his hair turn pewter as it grayed. No gold chains here. Just a modest gold wedding band.
Her parents drew closer. But Miss Charlotte was in her own little world. Vince had maneuvered “Lottie” into a corner. Her father turned to Emily.
“It’s fine, Daddy. Everything’s good.”
“So I guess they know each other.” Daddy was so cute. So responsible.
“Yes, I guess they do.”
“Emily?” Trevor’s voice made her turn back to him. What must he think?
Eyes clouded, he tugged her aside. “Look, Emily, I’m going to leave.” He glanced at his watch as if he had somewhere else to go. “I hate to keep my babysitter too late.”
“But you said your mother lives with you.”
His face flushed. “Yes. She does and you remember.”
Feeling terrible, she trailed him out the door.
“My car’s over there.” He pointed with his keys.
“Trevor, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right.” And he gave a little laugh. “My skin’s been itching all night. I think it’s from Sasha.”
“I feel terrible about all this.” She wasn’t talking about Sasha and they both knew it.
“You go back inside. Go on.” He gave her a nudge. “Looks as if you and that Jackson guy have something to figure out.”
“But we don’t. We didn’t.”
He threw her a look of total disbelief. “Emily, I didn’t just fall off a turnip truck.”
“No, really.” She pushed a hand through her flattened waves. “It’s not what it looked like tonight.”
“That kiss?” Shaking his head, he blew out a breath. “Definitely something.”
Emily followed him to the corner, arms folded over her waist. “You’re being so nice about this.”
Wearing an amused smile, he turned. “Emily, I don’t like to step into a pot that’s already boiling.”
“Hmm. You think?” The words didn’t help straighten out her head.
Trevor smiled. “Actually, I’m a little jealous. Did you meet him online?”
She shook her head slowly. “I met him here in first
grade.”
“Even better. Well, see you around.” And he got into a jeep.
She waved as he drove away.
Josie and Bryn were waiting for her when she stepped back inside. “Where’s Trevor?” Josie asked.
“He went home. He has a cat allergy.” As if that explained everything.
“That boy is seriously hot,” Bryn murmured. “He sure didn’t look like that in eighth grade.”
“But you’re dating Malcolm,” Josie reminded her, an impish grin lifting the corners of her lips.
Vince was introducing Miss Charlotte to his brother. Emily edged closer. Jackson caught her eye, but his focus went beyond her. Maybe he was looking for Trevor. Her lips tingled. Had that kiss been a dream? But when she touched her lips, Jackson smiled.
Nope. Not a dream.
No time to analyze that kiss right now. Feeling protective of Miss Charlotte, she came closer to Victor and Vince. Victor Pomeroy looked right over her head, signaling to someone. “Vince, have you met Jackson Hart?” he said to his brother.
Jackson joined them. The boy wasn’t looking happy.
“Jackson is the President of Coastal Enterprises,” Victor said. “Very busy guy. Reminds me of us when we were his age. He owns how many companies, son?”
Victor waited. Emily grabbed the closest counter.
“I don’t know...” Jackson began mumbling. She couldn’t hear him. But the look on Vince’s face told her the number he gave meant something.
Coastal Enterprises? Like Coastal Decor and Coastal Kitchen Design? All those white vans that had been parked out back came to mind. How had she missed this?
Jackson hadn’t been honest with her.
“Sounds impressive.” Vince nodded.
“A car guy like us, Vinny.” The kudos kept coming. All new information for Emily, who felt a little faint. “Which one are you driving tonight, Jackson? The Porsche or the Austin Healy?”
The brothers guffawed. Maybe the light was bleaching out Jackson’s face. Emily held on to that counter, the words pouring over her.
Jackson wasn’t her fixit guy.
He was one of those billionaires she read about. Guys who had people at his beck and call. All this fixit stuff has been pretend. And why?
