Читать книгу The Best Man Takes A Bride - Stacy Connelly, Stacy Connelly - Страница 12

Chapter Four

“Oh, Ms. McClaren, I have to tell you we just got back from the wedding-cake tasting, and every one of them was to die for. I think all those tiny little bites added up to an entire cake by the time we made up our minds.”

Rory smiled as the beaming, sugar-filled bride-to-be rushed to her side in the middle of Hillcrest House’s elegant, dark-walnut-paneled lobby. She had offered to take Jamison and Hannah on a tour of the grounds, but so far they hadn’t made it out of the hotel. She’d been stopped a handful of times either by guests or employees with questions about upcoming events.

Susannah Erickson was the latest interruption. “I’m glad you enjoyed the tasting. I learned within my first few days here not to accompany brides to the bakery. Too much temptation.”

And why, oh, why did she have to say temptation? Just speaking the word out loud had her thinking about that morning, and not about food. The image of Jamison opening the door, dressed but fresh from the shower, was seared in Rory’s mind. The scent of soap and shampoo had clung to his skin, and his damp hair had been rumpled from a quick toweling. Add to that the dark stubble he’d yet to shave away, and all she’d been able to think about was the seductive rasp of that rough skin against her own...

Almost against her will, Rory sought Jamison out. He stood off to the right with Hannah at his side, but Rory had already known that. She’d felt hyperaware of his proximity since he’d opened the door. Telling herself in the intimate setting of the Bluebell suite, of course she would notice the overwhelming presence of a masculine, six-foot-something man.

But even now, surrounded by guests and employees in the spacious lobby, she was still conscious of him. Of the way his gray gaze focused on her. Of the way the air crackled with electricity when their eyes met. Of the restless energy that seemed to pulse inside every inch of his broad-shouldered frame.

As Rory spoke with the bride-to-be about menu options and table settings, her words trembled and tripped on her tongue as though she were the one experiencing a high-octane sugar rush. Fortunately, her client didn’t seem to pick up on her nerves and promised to call back and book Hillcrest for her wedding as soon as she had a chance to talk with her fiancé.

After saying her farewells to Susannah, Rory braced herself to face Jamison again. He had taken the opportunity to shave and comb his hair during the time it took for her to return the breakfast dishes and serving cart to the kitchen. Too bad she didn’t find that strong, smooth jawline and the hint of an expensive, spicy aftershave any less attractive.

But the clean-cut version was a good reminder of who the man was. In the suite this morning, he’d been a harried father who’d needed her. A man dealing with the heartache of raising a child on his own. A man her heart urged her to help...

This, though, was Jamison Porter, Esquire. A businessman in control of himself and immune to his surroundings as his thumbs flew over his phone. Including, she feared, the daughter twisting restlessly at his side.

Rory knew what it was like to be pushed aside, forgotten, ignored...

She’d been a few years older than Hannah when tragedy struck her family. As an adult, she understood that her parents loved her every bit as much as they loved her brother, Chance, but in the weeks following his accident she’d felt like a ghost wandering the hospital halls—unseen, unheard.

Shaking off the memories, she scolded herself for projecting her own past onto the father and daughter in front of her. Focus, Rory. Jamison Porter is part of a wedding party and dealing with him part of your job.

Pasting a professional smile onto her face, she apologized as she joined them. “Sorry about all the interruptions.”

“If there’s one thing I understand, it’s work.” He thrust the phone into the pocket of his slacks, but Rory couldn’t tell if he was reluctant or relieved to break the connection. “I’m good at what I do.”

Rory frowned. The words didn’t sound like bragging as much as they sounded like...an apology? She wasn’t sure she had that right until his gaze dropped to the top of his daughter’s head and his throat worked in a rough swallow.

Suddenly the puzzle pieces fell into place. Successful businessman, not-so-successful family man. His fingers tapped on the outside of his muscular thigh, and Rory could sense his need to reach for his phone again—tangible proof of the predictable, logical world he’d left behind.

“Jamison—”

“I want cake for breakfast,” Hannah cut in, her tone grumpy enough for Rory to know the little girl hadn’t totally gotten over having to eat oatmeal that morning.

“Only brides get cake for breakfast,” her father answered quickly.

“I wanna be a bride.”

His daughter’s comeback was even faster than his and left Jamison groaning in response. Rory couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, Dad, that’s one worry you can put off for a few years.” Gazing down at Hannah, she asked, “Do you want to go see where Miss Lindsay is going to get married? You can practice being her flower girl.”

Hannah was quiet for a second before her eyes lit up. “Do flower girls get cake?”

“They do—but not for breakfast.”

After heaving a sigh at the unfairness of that, Hannah nodded. “Okay.”

“All right then. Let’s go!”

“Wait, Miss Rory,” the girl demanded. “You hafta hold my hand.”

Hannah held out her left hand, her right already wrapped around her father’s. Rory hesitated even though she knew she was being ridiculous. In her short time at Hillcrest, she’d held more than her share of little and big girls’ hands leading up to a wedding. This was nothing different. But with Jamison on the other side, his daughter joining the two of them together, Rory felt a connection that went far beyond a professional capacity.

Something about the corporate lawyer, something in the shadows lingering in his silver eyes, grabbed hold of her. She’d been telling the truth when she said she’d become a jack-of-all-trades with a quick fix for prewedding emergencies. But she had to be careful. She’d be foolish to think she could step in and fix Jamison and his adorable daughter. Foolish to invest too much of herself when their time in Clearville was temporary. Foolish to think he’d want her to.

Though Rory didn’t want to be so in tune with the man just a child’s length away, she sensed the deep breath he exhaled as they stepped out into the cool morning air. Hannah bounced between them down the wraparound porch’s front steps, but it was Jamison who seemed to have released a negative energy bottled up far too long.

As they walked down the gravel path leading from the house, Rory couldn’t help glancing back over her shoulder. Even though she’d been back for almost three months, the sight of the Victorian mansion never failed to steal her breath.

She loved the history and old-fashioned elegance of the place. The way it brought to mind a simpler time. With its high peaks, glorious turrets and carved columns and balustrades, an air of romance surrounded the house and property.

Not that romance was anything Rory should be thinking of—at least not as her gaze met Jamison’s.

“Um, did you know Hillcrest House was built in the late 1800s? The original owner made his fortune decades earlier down in San Francisco during the gold rush. Not that he ever found gold, but he was one of the enterprising men who figured out the more practical side of gold fever. The thousands of men dreaming of striking it rich were going to need tools and equipment, and he was one of the first on the scene to set up shop.”

“Let me guess...at ridiculously inflated rates?” Jamison asked, the corner of his mouth lifted in a cynical smile that still managed to trip up Rory’s heartbeat.

“Oh, but he wasn’t just selling metal pans and shovels and pails... He was selling the miners the tools they needed to follow their dreams.” Catching the look of utter disbelief on Jamison’s face, Rory let out the laughter she’d been holding back. “Yeah, okay, even I can’t pull that one off. He robbed the poor suckers blind, selling on credit and then cashing in on their claims when they couldn’t pay him back.”

“So much for the romance of a time gone by.”

Rory started, feeling as if Jamison had read her thoughts moments earlier. “Well, uh, if it’s any consolation, karma did bite back, and he ended up losing his fortune—and Hillcrest House—when the stock market crashed.”

“Hmm, sounds like cosmic justice but, again, not very romantic.”

“Ah, but that’s when the house’s luck changed. After it stood empty for years, a wealthy industrialist from back east came to California and fell in love with a young woman. He bought Hillcrest as a wedding present for his bride. The story goes that their plan was to have a dozen or so kids—”

“A dozen?”

“At least,” Rory emphasized, smiling at the overwhelmed expression on his face as he glanced down at his lone child. “Sadly, they were unable to have children, but as time went on and more and more people were traveling to California and taking vacations along the coast, they decided to turn Hillcrest into a hotel so its rooms could still be filled with families and children and laughter—even if those families only stayed for a short time.”

The reminder was one Rory needed to focus on. Jamison and Hannah were only staying for a few weeks. She couldn’t allow herself to be drawn in on a personal level, to let herself start to care too much, too quickly. But with the little girl’s hand tucked so trustingly in hers as she sang under her breath, Rory couldn’t help wondering if it was already too late.

Hannah’s shy sweetness reminded Rory of a kitten she’d once rescued. The frightened Siamese had been all eyes in a skinny body covered with matted fur. It had taken time to build up enough trust for the kitten to allow her to pet it and even more time for the tiny bundle of fur to completely come out of its shell. To learn to run and play and chase. But Rory hadn’t given up, because even at the beginning, underneath all the wariness, she had sensed the playful kitten longing to come out.

And as much as the kitten had needed to be rescued, Rory had needed something to save. She couldn’t compare her experience as a child to what Hannah was facing in losing her mother so young, but Rory understood a little of what the girl was going through.

That beneath the sadness and loss, a silly, playful girl was struggling to break free.

“And what’s your family’s connection to the hotel?”

The summer breeze blew a lock of chestnut hair across Jamison’s forehead and let loose a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. He was so good-looking, she forgot the question, forgot everything as she met his gaze over his daughter’s head.

“Rory.”

Heat flooded her cheeks as she tore her attention from the heat shimmering between them and back on what should have been her focus all along. “Right...my family’s connection to the hotel. Um, the couple owned the hotel for decades, but with no children to leave it to, they put it up for sale. My grandparents met at Hillcrest—”

“Another romantic story?”

“Exactly,” she answered, pleased with his guess despite the cynical tone of the question. “My grandmother was working the front desk and my grandfather was a guest here. Years later, when they heard the hotel was available, they bought it as an investment. They visited all the time but never lived here.

“My father and my uncle both worked here when they were younger, but the hotel and the hospitality industry were never their calling. Not like it was for my aunt Evelyn. Everyone knew she would run Hillcrest one day. She’s smart and strong and independent.”

Rory’s worry over her aunt’s health stung her eyes, but she blinked, banishing the tears before they could form. Her aunt wouldn’t appreciate Rory getting teary in front of a guest. Not even if that guest was ridiculously handsome with the kind of broad shoulders and strong arms where a woman would be tempted to find comfort.

“And you and your cousin are here helping out?”

That was the explanation she and Evie had been giving people. Their aunt kept a strict line drawn between her personal and professional life, and she didn’t want anyone outside of family to know of her health problems.

“Hillcrest House has always been a popular location for weddings with the locals in Clearville and Redfield,” Rory said, naming another nearby town, “but last year my aunt decided to expand Hillcrest as a wedding destination. The couples now have the choice of an all-inclusive ceremony, with the hotel handling everything from the cake to the music to the photographer.”

“And that’s where you come in.”

“I work with the couple to get a feel of the type of wedding they’re looking for and design all the elements to match that theme.”

Jamison shook his head at the notion of a wedding theme, which had Rory wondering what his wedding to Hannah’s mother had been like. Not that she was about to ask.

“You’re good at this.”

Feeling her cheeks heat at the surprising compliment, Rory shook her head. “I’ve had Hillcrest House facts drilled into my head since I was a little girl. I could recite this information in my sleep. A couple of times, in the midst of wedding madness, I think maybe I have!”

“Not just the tour. I mean the way you dealt with the guests and the staff earlier. You’re friendly and encouraging but firm enough to get your point across.”

“I—thank you,” Rory said, far more pleased by the compliment than she should have been. She didn’t like thinking of herself as hungry for approval, but after her failure at the interior design firm in LA, finding success—especially at Hillcrest House—was so important to her. “I didn’t expect...”

“Expect what?”

She gave a small laugh. “You and my cousin Evie have quite a bit in common when it comes to the whole wedding thing.”

Jamison and her by-the-book cousin likely had more in common than their negative views on weddings and marriage. A CPA, Evie was smart, well educated, as razor sharp as the blunt cut of her dark, chin-length hair. She was practical, pragmatic and more than a little cynical—the kind of woman Rory figured would impress a successful businessman like Jamison.

Ignoring the stab of jealousy at the thought of Jamison and her cousin forming their own mutual-admiration society, Rory said, “Evie’s a genius when it comes to handling the books and the last person to believe in fairy tales, but sometimes she acts like I pull off these weddings with nothing more than a wave of a magic wand. She doesn’t seem to notice the hard work that goes into them.”

“Look, Daddy!” Hannah’s impatient tug on their hands brought the conversation to a halt as they reached a curve in the pathway. An intricate lattice-arched entry led to the rose garden—a favorite spot for many brides and grooms to say their vows. Pink, red and white blooms unfurled amid the dark green bushes and the thick, rich lawn.

Turning to Rory, Hannah asked, “Is that where you grow the flowers for the flower girls?”

Not about to ruin the moment for the child, especially when she saw some of that curiosity shining through in her big brown eyes, Rory said, “It sure is. Why don’t you go look for the perfect flower? But don’t touch, okay? Some of the roses have sharp thorns.”

Hannah’s pale brows furrowed as she glanced between the rose garden and back again. “Will you stay right here, Daddy?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Hannah Banana.”

A small smile tugged at the little girl’s lips, and Rory swore the sweet expression was somehow tied to the strings around her heart. She couldn’t help smiling as Hannah tucked her hands behind her back before racing—somewhat awkwardly—over to the garden.

But it was Jamison and the unabashed tenderness in his eyes as he gazed at his daughter that had Rory’s emotions all tangled up in knots.

He was a guest. And like any other guest who passed through Hillcrest House, Rory would quickly forget all about him. She’d forget all about this day, about walking with Jamison and Hannah beneath a cloudless sky. About the warmth of his skin as his arm brushed against hers. About the rich, masculine scent that tempted her to move closer and breathe deeper. About the longing to reach out and take his hand, knowing how something as simple as entwining her fingers with his would form a bond she would feel right down to her bones...

Yes, indeed, she would forget all about that. Might just spend the rest of her life forgetting all about that.

The strict talking-to had Rory straightening her shoulders and adopting a polite smile, neither of which were any protection against the power behind Jamison’s gaze.

“I’ll say it again, Rory. You’re good at what you do,” he repeated, the intensity behind his words preempting any denial she might have made. “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you is a fool.”

* * *

“Like this, Miss Rory?” Hannah asked over her shoulder as she placed a single rose petal on the verdant green grass.