Читать книгу Orange Blossom Brides - Tara Randel - Страница 9
ОглавлениеCHAPTER ONE
THE EARLY-MORNING SUN warmed Lilli Barclay’s shoulders as she stood in front of the Cypress Pointe Historical Society building, arms full of charity event files she’d just received from the secretary. She’d have to finish the job sooner rather than later, but later sounded so much better. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath before speaking into her cell phone.
“Does this have to be done today?” she asked her mother, Celeste, who had taken off to deal with another one of Aunt Marian’s legal issues instead of staying here in Florida to coordinate her latest fund-raiser. “I have a full schedule at work.”
“He’s the only groom who hasn’t given me an answer. He’s perfect, Lilli. The ladies will adore him, and the model will love walking arm in arm with him down the aisle.”
“I could just call him. I’ve already missed more hours from work than I can afford with this fund-raiser.”
Lilli had recently found, and hoped to sign on, a new client for the marketing firm where she worked. A project that would not only be a profitable account, but would land her the coveted promotion she’d been working toward. She loved research and the creative part of marketing, but she really wanted to work directly with the customers as an account executive.
The job entailed finding new customers and maintaining relationships while catering to their advertising needs. To climb up the corporate ladder, she’d worked long hours and made herself available to the point of having no social life. Since her five-year plan had gotten derailed a year ago, she’d started over with a new plan to get her life on track, and this promotion would be the first step in that direction.
She wasn’t a shoo-in, especially with two other people in the office actively seeking the same promotion. The first, Nate, had a few more years’ experience than Lilli. Definite competition. The other, a woman who had recently been hired, was new to marketing. A long shot. Still, Lilli took nothing for granted.
Filling in as charity coordinator for her mother didn’t fit the plan, but her mother had sounded desperate. Lilli hadn’t been able to say no. Never had. Only now her mother’s request might very well get in the way of this promotion.
“You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t an emergency.”
Yes, she knew that. For as long as Lilli could remember, her mother had been involved in some type of charity activity. She’d spend weeks on a project, leaving Lilli to snatch a few hours of quality time here and there, and even then, her mother would be preoccupied. That meant a lot of time alone. But how could she be upset with her mother when the woman did so much good for others? And how could Lilli not help when her mother asked? Since her parents’ divorce, it seemed like the only connection they shared.
“So you’ll take care of this for me?” her mother asked.
Procrastinating, Lilli opened the thick file in her hand and narrowly avoided spilling the collection of papers. Her gaze stopped on the top line of the official invitation: Tie the Knot—A Montage of Vintage Bridal Fashions Through the Decades, to be held at the prestigious Cypress Pointe Country Club. Bad enough her mother had asked her to fill in as coordinator for this event in her absence, but the country club? How could Lilli ever set foot in that place again?
She scanned the list given to her by the historical society secretary. She loved lists, herself, so she felt a degree of relief that she didn’t have to start from scratch. Everything from timetables, committees and local businesses supporting the show to couples serving as models were listed. Each woman would wear a bridal dress, either from her family legacy or donated by a member of the historical society. A clever idea. One of her mother’s best.
But a wedding-themed benefit? Lilli cringed. She’d put visions of silk and lace, cake and fondant, and happily ever after out of her mind this past year. Getting dumped at the rehearsal dinner made a girl leery of wedding dreams.
And still, the worst part of her duties lay moments ahead of her: getting an answer from the final volunteer groom on her mother’s list. A groom not obligated to marry his paired bride. Wouldn’t that be a dream come true for any guy? No commitment and a bunch of fun? The participants were local businesspeople or town elite, except for the last man in question. He had recently set up shop in town. Celeste had yet to pin down a definite yes from the man. Apparently he’d been dodging her calls. So, today, the recruitment duties fell to Lilli.
She closed the file and stuffed it into her purse. She’d go through it later. Right now, she had historical society business to take care of before she could get back to ensuring her promising future at KLC Media Enterprises.
“Yes, I’ll take care of it, but I’m going to call his office,” she said, decision made.
“That won’t do any good.”
“Why not?”
“Every time I call, his secretary tells me he’s out.”
“Maybe that’s because he is out. After all, he is a...” Lilli shuffled through the purse again until she found another file. Her stomach dropped when she read his name. “Max Sanders. Private investigator?”
“Yes, dear. I mentioned to you that I’d hired someone to take care of the security system at the historical society office. It’s in the information I left behind.”
Lilli stared down at the familiar name. It couldn’t be, could it? He’d left town years ago. How many Max Sanderses could there be?
“You’ll have to go to his office and ask in person.”
Oh, boy. Her mother had to know how sticky this would be. Why would she even consider him as a volunteer groom in light of their history? The Max Sanders she’d met twelve years ago would not be happy to see her, let alone agree to anything she asked. She’d be lucky he didn’t kick her out of his office right from the get-go.
“You do remember who Max is, don’t you, Mom?”
“Of course. So I had him thoroughly vetted.”
Ironic, her mother hiring a P.I. to do a background check on a P.I.
“Lilli, please. This is important.”
“Why?”
“Because he has a new business here in town. We have to support our own.”
“Willie Anderson is single and owns a toy-train store, but you haven’t targeted him.”
“That’s because Willie is thirty-five and still lives with his mother. None of the volunteer brides will walk down the aisle with him.”
Okay, that was true.
“And I’ve met with Max. He’s handsome. The women will love him.”
Bottom line: if Max’s presence would help sell tickets, her mother wouldn’t take no for an answer. Coming from a marketing standpoint, Lilli could appreciate that.
Asking Max to participate was just a formality. Everyone in town knew that once Celeste had her mind set on charity matters, you couldn’t ignore her. She hounded folks until she wore them down. After so many years “suggesting” they help, it became town tradition to commit first and ask questions later. Since Celeste now served as president of the historical society, she wouldn’t back down on this particular event.
Still...benefit or not, facing Max Sanders would not be the highlight of Lilli’s day. She grasped at any excuse not to visit him. “His secretary can just as easily put me off there.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to demand that he see you. Be firm, Lilli. Let them know you mean business.”
Lilli blinked. “You expect me to strong-arm him into it somehow?”
“I’m sorry. Sometimes I get so carried away with my charities I forget I have boundaries.”
Boy-oh-boy, these historical society women took charity events to a whole new level.
“The historical society ladies and I want to work with Max,” her mother continued.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Lilli had to take care of this so Celeste would stop worrying and Lilli could coordinate the fund-raiser while still giving the necessary attention to her job. Multitasking had just become her middle name. It wouldn’t be that bad, right?
“Also, I spoke to Max about providing security the night of the benefit, but we didn’t finalize the particulars. If he hesitates about attending, suggest he look at volunteering as undercover work. As a groom, he’ll be able to keep an eye on the event with no one the wiser. Between the designer wedding gowns and the Wingate jewelry, I have a lot riding on this night, Lilli. You know if this weren’t an emergency, I’d be there. Honestly, I’m depending on you.”
Lilli stifled a groan. Could her life get any more complicated? “Max might not want to work with me.”
“What happened is in the past. You both moved beyond the incident. I spent enough time with Max to see that he’s gotten his life together and is now a respectable member of society. Besides, he’s a businessman. He’ll do what he must.”
Her mother was banking on that. And what Celeste wanted, Celeste always got.
Unlike Lilli.
Lilli’s childhood had been far from simple. Her father, a corporate lawyer, and her mother, a stay-at-home mom who mostly flitted about as a society charity queen, rarely saw eye to eye on anything. Their marriage, difficult at best, worked when they weren’t in the same room. Lilli spent her vacations with one parent or the other.
She longed for a real family, to have Thanksgiving dinners together instead of going to a different resort every year, alternating parents. She dreamed of her family sitting before the twinkling tree on Christmas morning, opening the presents they’d given each other, of knowing without a shadow of a doubt that her parents loved her because she was their daughter, not a bargaining chip to use against each other.
Prior to her mother’s most recent phone call, Lilli had spent twelve months excelling at a job she loved, and living the calm, quiet life she craved after growing up in a home mired in emotional chaos. She’d spent years as the object of her parents’ arguments. What should their only child should do? Where should she belong? Their ideas had differed vastly from what Lilli wanted.
Not that they’d asked. And not that they’d put her first in their lives. She’d been an obedient daughter, had tried to give them what they wanted, but failed at every task. So she’d set her mind on being the best student, best employee, best...everything so they’d be proud of her. And still they hadn’t been able to work out their problems to keep the family whole.
After her parents’ divorce, Lilli had worked hard in high school and college to cover the hurt and disappointment. She might be what some called an overachiever, but going after specific goals kept her mind focused. She’d realized she could only depend upon herself. This promotion would prove her resourcefulness. And it had nothing to do with her parents. Or this fund-raiser.
“I’m counting on you to get this done, Lilli. Give me a call when Max is confirmed.”
That one night with Max had been out of character for her. And now, all these years later, she’d pay for it.
“That’s assuming he agrees.”
“We’re on a deadline, Lilli. Confirming Max is your first priority.”
Yeah, after getting on with her day job, nailing the promotion, living her life and enduring Max’s wrath. “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she muttered, even though her mother had hung up.
One phone call and her life tilted out of control. Her resolve to create emotional steadiness in her life went by the wayside. Her world had suddenly turned messy, and she didn’t like messy. Except for the year she spent planning her doomed wedding, she’d achieved that long-awaited stability. She dated “safe” men, when she dated at all. At twenty-eight, you’d think she had it all together.
Until her mother called in a panic. That call thrust Lilli back into the craziness of her mother’s world and Lilli had an ache in the pit of her stomach to show for it.
With a sigh, she glanced at her watch. Just past 9:00 a.m. With any luck she could get to Max’s office, coerce a firm yes from the man without a major degree of difficulty and get back to work with productive time still left in the morning. The research on the organic dog biscuits wouldn’t get done by itself. Nor would the itinerary for the town business forum her boss had asked her to put together, plus planning her strategy to land the Danielson account.
Nine in the morning, and she already had a headache.
Three weeks until the benefit.
Could she do this?
* * ** * *
MAX SANDERS RUBBED his weary eyes, hoping the letters on the computer screen he’d been staring at would stop swimming. No good. He hit a key to close the file and downed the remainder of his coffee, flinching when the cold mouthful hit his tongue. How long had he been concentrating, anyway? With a grimace he swallowed, then rose from his chair to get a refill.
In his cramped second-story office overlooking Main Street, he slid out from behind the desk, tripped over a stack of unpacked boxes and bumped into the lone wooden straight-back chair reserved for clients before he reached the door. He really needed to take thirty minutes to straighten this place up.
His secretary, Blanche, ran the clerical end of the business. Her desk, a couch and a small coffee station filled the main office just outside his door. Talk about looking like a movie set out of a 1940s B movie. Raymond Chandler’s idea of a hard-nosed investigator he was not.
Thankfully, Blanche had filled the pot before she left for an appointment. From the first day she’d come to work for him and tasted his version of coffee, she’d forbidden him to touch the machine ever again. Today he needed caffeine too much to worry about secretarial retribution.
Last night he’d stayed at the veterinarian’s office until the early morning hours, waiting for his black Labrador, Jake Riley, to be out of danger. According to Doc Williams, the Lab had tangled with a cane toad and been poisoned. Jake Riley, resilient and stubborn, pulled through with the help of the vet’s knowledge of poisonous toads. Max, on the other hand, was tired and out of sorts. Doc had suggested Max leave Jake at the clinic so the staff could keep an eye on him. Later this afternoon the dog could go home.
Max took a sip of the coffee, savoring the warm brew as he enjoyed the unusual quiet. He could handle things himself, even though Blanche would probably beg to differ. After all, he’d made it to twenty-nine without a major mishap—depending on who you talked to—through a stint in the navy and years on the job as a cop in Atlanta. He’d already landed a few cases since he opened his doors. He had his mentor—Cypress Pointe police chief, Bob Gardener, fondly known to the town as the chief—to thank for that.
Max had returned to his desk when he heard the outer door open. He didn’t have any appointments scheduled this morning. Blanche usually dealt with clients before they saw him, but in her absence he would have to play host. Hoping for new business, he put on his game face, stopping short when he spotted the gorgeous female who’d just walked in.
This day was looking up.
She hesitated at the door as if she didn’t know what to do next until she locked gazes with him. Her eyes, a pretty shade of green, opened wide and the tentative smile playing at her full lips went flat. A flash of a memory teased the back of his mind as she gracefully sauntered the few steps toward him. He couldn’t help but check her out. Dressed in a soft blouse that matched her eyes, a skirt and impossibly high heels, she stopped before him, tucking a lock of her tousled, shoulder-length reddish hair behind her ear. He caught a whiff of her rich floral scent—a pretty, unforgettable perfume. Or maybe it was the woman who was unforgettable.
“Max Sanders?” she asked in a soft voice.
“That would be me.” He extended his hand, taken off guard by a rush of heat from her soft skin as her fingers slid against his. Interesting. He hadn’t expected that. Nor had she, evidenced by the way she quickly let go.
No doubt about it, she’d piqued his interest the minute she’d come through his door. No one in their right mind could ignore the confident sway of her walk, the slim hand with ruby nail polish and the overall pretty package beaming back at him. Something about her...
He watched her with curiosity. Victim of a home invasion while her husband worked out of town and now needed a security system? His quick glance to her left hand indicated no wedding band. Something else, then?
“Did you have an appointment? My secretary must have forgotten to tell me you were coming.”
“She didn’t know.”
Even more interesting. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m in a time crunch but I need to speak with you.” The airy tone of a few minutes before disappeared and she became all business. “I’m sorry. I didn’t call before arriving because I hoped to catch you in person. It’s important.”
Good, she needed his services. “In that case, come on back to my office.”
He led the way, sweeping a pile of electronics magazines from the chair in front of his desk, motioning for her to take a seat. He rounded his desk before settling back in his leather chair, observing her as she gazed around his office, from the papers piled on his desk, to the boxes in the corner. Finally, her eyes widened a fraction as she read his wall calendar. Then she looked down at the chair he’d pointed to, wrinkling her pert nose as she reached out to brush the wood seat before sitting. He frowned. The office might be cluttered, but it wasn’t dirty.
“I usually make office or house calls, so I’m not completely organized yet.” He’d ignored Blanche when she’d nagged him about decorating to impress the clients. Man, he hated it when Blanche was right.
He settled in and took another long look at this prospective client. That elusive memory still niggled the edges of his mind. Then it hit him, hard and fast.
“It’s you.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Yes.”
“I can’t believe it. It’s been twelve years.”
“That’s about right.”
“That’s exactly right.”
“And it’s in the past.” She squirmed in her seat. “I was hoping we could look beyond that.”
Wishful thinking. His gut burned with memories. “I don’t think so.”
“It was an...unfortunate night.”
“Especially after the police showed up.”
“That, too.”
A bonfire. Mischief. A pretty girl and a stolen kiss. Great times, until the cops broke up the party. And he’d ended up spending a few nights in juvenile detention because of her.
“You ratted me out.”
“It was either that or get in trouble for something I didn’t do.”
“You could have forgotten my name.”
“I could have, but I didn’t.” Her face colored. “It was all a misunderstanding.”
“You were a far cry from a misunderstanding.”
“It was a long time ago. I was hoping today we could calmly discuss business.”
“Calm isn’t at the top of my list right now.”
Her eyes closed for a moment, and when she met his gaze again, he saw the reluctant yielding there.
Okay. So she didn’t want to walk down memory lane. Neither did he. He’d been angry with her for a long time after that night. What had started out as a flirty game of teasing ended with both of them in trouble, questioned by the police for a few hours before she went home to her family. He’d never found out why she dropped his name so she could go free. He’d asked, but the chief had been closemouthed about the details. All he knew that night? She’d caused him a world of trouble.
Now, all these years later, he was about to find out why. “Now, tell me, Miss... Miss...”
She rolled her eyes. “Barclay.”
“Right. You’re related to Celeste Barclay? The woman who keeps calling?”
“That would be my mother,” she said, her business tone ratcheting up a notch. “I’m here on behalf of the Cypress Pointe Historical Society.”
“I’ve already installed the new security system at the office. Your mother made sure I had it completed before the loaner gowns arrived.”
“That’s not why I’m here. You haven’t returned her follow-up calls.”
He inwardly groaned. “For the charity thing, right?”
“Yes. She’d like an answer.”
“The chief said your mother wouldn’t stop calling until I talked to her.”
“Then you know just how persistent she is. That’s why she sent me here.”
“Not to cause me more trouble?”
“Of course not.” She lifted her chin.
“Miss Barclay... It is Miss?” he couldn’t help asking. And thinking, why was her marital status important? In light of their history, he shouldn’t care, but found that he did. And wanted to kick himself for it.
“Yes.”
Even though she owed him, she didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. One glance at her set mouth and he decided to bide his time. He picked up a pen and tapped it on a notepad. “Your mother mentioned that she wanted me to volunteer for the benefit. What did she have in mind?”
She looked at the pen in his hand, then back at him. “You already know the Cypress Pointe Historical Society is holding their annual fund-raiser in three weeks.” She handed him a white invitation. “Tie the Knot charity wedding fashion show. At the Cypress Pointe Country Club. My mother has requested that you act as one of her volunteer grooms for the night. She felt that in your capacity as security for the event, this role as a groom would work out well. She’d be sure to have someone watching over the expensive donations during the event, but not calling attention to your undercover status. She doesn’t want to upset the guests. ”
He stared at her, trying not to flinch. No way. No possible way. “Are you kidding?”
She tilted her head. “I’m sorry, I was under the impression your answer is a formality.”
“I agreed to upgrade security at the historical society office and for the jewelry collection. Nothing else.”
“And the night of the benefit? At the club?”
“We hadn’t exactly nailed down the details for the night of the event. Your mother and I keep playing phone tag.”
“She had to go out of town and she asked me to handle it.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“You know the history of the Wingate jewelry?”
“Yes.” He nodded at his computer. “I read the file.”
“Then you know the collection is worth a lot of money.”
Oh, yeah. He’d noticed.
“We can go into the particulars at a later date, but I need to know that you’re on board and you’ll have things under control the night of the benefit.”
A fresh rush of anger swept over him. “First you show up at my office, now you question the quality of my work?”
Her eyes went wide. “No. Of course not.” She ran a hand over her skirt. “I’m sorry. My mother recently put the responsibility of the benefit in my hands and I’m playing catch-up.” She tried for a smile. “And it would really help us out if you volunteered.”
Hmm... Well, he supposed it would be a good way to keep an eye on things. But still... “Volunteer groom, huh?”
“It is a town tradition, after all.”
He snorted. “I don’t think I could pass as a groom, volunteer or not. I’m not a settling down kinda guy.”
She shifted, giving him the once-over. If he read her right, she silently agreed with him. “You do realize it’s just for one night. And afterwards, your P.I. business will get publicity.”
“Private security consultant.”
She pulled some papers from her bag. “My notes read P.I.” She looked at him, confused. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
“My major focus is security, but I do some investigating on the side.”
He did P.I. work while waiting for the security end of the business to build up, so he could focus on that full time. He’d piled all of his own savings into this venture so he needed these short-term cases to generate revenue. Once he landed one large account, the word would get out and he’d be on his way to making Sanders Security a high-end firm.
“That’s all well and good, but I need a commitment from you. The money raised will go toward deserving organizations. Did I mention this year the funds will help the local animal shelter as well as the historical society?”
He groaned. Animal shelter? He’d found Jake there, half-starved and in desperate need of a home. His home. He’d never forget those beautiful pleading eyes staring up at him. Just like the pair staring at him now.
Okay, he had to take time to consider this. Volunteer groom aside, was his pride more important than his empty bank account? More important than proving his services were needed in this town? Right now, he needed to capitalize on being the sole security consultant in town. But would the exposure bring in business, or would his professional image take a hit with the whole cheesy-groom thing? He might not be taken seriously after that.
Considering all that, he studied her. Did she think she had him? With her composed smile, he couldn’t tell.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to let those poor defenseless animals down. We’re only asking for a few hours of your time.”
The alluring female had grabbed hold of his attention and wouldn’t let go. Just as she had that night twelve years ago. Their gazes clashed, but she gave nothing away. All business, not trying to flatter him or outwardly flirt with him, not trying to use her womanly wiles to get him to say yes. Wait. Why wasn’t she flattering or flirting? He didn’t want the answer to that particular question.
“The animal shelter?” he asked, dragging out the minutes.
“Yes,” she replied, cool victory evident in her voice. He detected a small curve of her lips, ready to smile in triumph the moment he acquiesced. If he acquiesced. “It’s a very good organization, I can assure you, since I work with them.”
He hadn’t gotten a hard-nosed reputation for nothing. And she looked as though she could use a little shaking up, if her buttoned-up-tight persona gave any indication. What had happened to the fun girl he’d met on the beach that night long ago?
Lost in the staccato beat of the tapping pen, Max pretended to mull over her request.
“Must you keep doing that?”
The pen stopped midair.
“Doing what?”
She nodded toward the pen.
“Sorry.” The tapping may be bothering her, but her starchy condescension peeved him. Instead of saying yes, so he could get back to work, he decided to go another way. One that would give him long overdue satisfaction. “And you’ll be attending? As a bride?”
“Not as a bride.” Her eyes widened for a second before that less-than-confident smile slipped back into place. She tucked her hair behind her ear again. Great. Even her earlobes were cute. “As I said, I’m coordinating the event.”
“So, you’re not going?”
“I didn’t say that. It depends if my mother is back in town by then.”
He pondered his decision, purposely dragging out the minutes, before saying, “My answer is still no.”
“But what about security for the jewelry?”
“That I can do, but not as a groom.”
“My mother really wants you to do this. Think of it as a plug for your business. I can certainly do some publicity work for you that won’t give away your status during the event.”
“The job she hired me to do didn’t include groom duty.”
“It’s just a minor change. You’ll hardly be inconvenienced.”
“Unlike the night we met?”
She pursed her lips. The regret in her eyes said it all. And for some perverse reason, even though it shouldn’t matter now, he needed to know why she’d turned him in.
“It was confusing. Look, I also ended up in the back of a police car,” she told him, her voice tight and controlled. “Then sat at the police station for hours with you fuming and not speaking to me.”
“Really? You want to complain? Where did you go afterward?”
Her face colored again. “Home.”
“Right. I went off to juvenile detention. So I think you need to make that up to me.”
Her posture went all stiff. “How do you propose I do that?”
“I propose you accept that I will not be a groom. Not for the benefit. Not ever.”
Displeasure crossed her face. “I could ask someone else.”
He may have started out making demands for payback, but now he was just having fun. “You could, and you should. I’m out.”
She considered that for a second. He’d expected a snarky reply, but instead she said, “Fine. You’re right. You’re aren’t the groom type.”
“And you know that how?”
“By the fact that you’re being very disagreeable.”
“I’m sure there are lots of disagreeable grooms. Doesn’t make me a type.”
She frowned then asked, “Do you own a tux?”
“Never needed one.”
Her gaze dropped to his faded T-shirt. “Any formal attire?”
She gave him an assessing look, cringing over his less-than-designer jeans and faded T-shirt and boots, his usual stakeout attire, which he wore for the job he had scheduled for later this morning. Or maybe the stubble he’d failed to shave. Okay, so maybe he needed a haircut, but he’d been too busy to worry about it. Still, she didn’t have to look down that impertinent, freckled nose of hers.
He scrubbed a hand over his chin.
She had a standoffish look about her that rubbed him the wrong way. And the prissy way she perched on the chair, like she didn’t want to get her skirt wrinkled? Well, that toasted him, too.
It took a few seconds for him to respond. Poised on the tip of his tongue hovered “none of your business,” but how juvenile would that sound? “I have nice clothes. In fact, I just ordered work shirts with Sanders Security stitched on the front.”
She smirked at him, clearly thinking she had the upper hand.
“Right. Whatever. Look, I’ll be at the historical society offices tomorrow to test the system, and I’ll drop off a proposal for the security of the jewelry collection. Nothing more.”
Her lips tightened a fraction before she said, “That’s your final answer?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yep. Final answer.” He didn’t owe her more than that. He and Miss Prickly had nothing in common except a night on the beach that had ended before they’d had a chance to get started.
She stood. Something about her, a vulnerability she couldn’t disguise, made him think of the carefree girl he’d once met. It also managed to soften the hard edges of his heart.
“Thank you. The historical society appreciates your support.” She gathered her things and rushed out of his office, a waft of alluring perfume in her wake.
Max sat there for a moment, trying to ignore the twisting in his gut. Her walking through the door had caught him off guard. To be honest, he hadn’t thought about her in years. Even when he’d decided to return to Cypress Pointe, he’d had only a passing notion that he might run into her again. But this way? Because of a charity event?
Working for the historical society meant access to future clients, just by word of mouth alone. Cypress Pointe was a small town, after all. He’d make connections, secure a few more jobs. Positive. But the negative? Working with the new charity coordinator, a woman who happened to be from his past. A past he’d worked hard to overcome, although sometimes it felt as if he’d fallen short.
Sitting back in his chair, he realized that his life had taken a hard right turn when she’d walked into his office. No. Today’s visit had only ramped things up. Really, it’d started for him the night at the beach. The anger still simmered, but when he pictured her pretty face, a surprising spark of interest ignited.
No. No way. He had to put her out of his mind. They might be connected by this historical society project, but he didn’t have to like it.
