Best Laid Wedding Plans (27 page)

As the building came into view, Cole nodded approval for the white sheers at the windows, the wreath on the newly installed red French doors, the crisp white shutters. Large white metal buckets, exploding with color, stood like sentries at the doorway. She'd filled them with red geraniums, green vines, and some kind of white and blue flowers.

The place looked exactly right. Classy but contemporary. Professional but homey.

What she still needed? A sign to hang from a wrought-iron arm. And he knew exactly where to find it.

He smiled, then knocked at the door. Music drifted out to him. Country again. Hmmm. What kind of mood would he find her in?

He'd missed her. It galled him to admit that, even to himself. He admired her. He respected her. He wanted her—so damn badly that he hurt.

He knocked again.

“Come in!”

He turned the knob, took half a step inside, and stopped. If he'd thought she'd done a bang-up job on the exterior, the interior about knocked him off his feet.

Welcoming. And feminine. A guy would have to be very careful in here. Of course, the ones who walked through this door would be head-over-heels in love with the women beside them and more than happy to sit in this female nest and agree with anything they wanted.

And then he spotted Jenni Beth. A glass of champagne in one hand, a piece of chocolate in the other, she sent him a sloppy grin.

“Hi, Cole. I'm having some champagne.” She held up a half-empty bottle. Nestled in a chintz easy chair, her legs draped over the arm, she grinned lopsidedly at him. “I have some left.”

“I see that.”

Well on her way to draining the bottle, she was tipsy, he realized with amusement. Here, in her office, in the middle of the day. And very, very happy.

He doubted she'd be as happy about it later, though, so he'd better step in and save her from herself.

“How about I join you? Help you finish off that bottle.” He snagged the champagne, poured himself a flute, and moved the bottle to her desk, well out of reach.

“Is that all you want?” she asked, a sexy little smile on those full, pouty lips. Untangling herself, she stood and wrapped one arm around his neck.

His heart thumped hard enough to fly out of his chest. For a second, he held her close, rested his chin on all that glorious hair, and breathed in the clean, sweet scent of her.

Hands at her waist, he drew back slightly. “What's goin' on, sugar?”

“I booked a wedding!” The smile burst from her.

“What?”

“Stella and Bear, well, Steve.” She giggled. “My first bride and groom! I'm celebrating.”

She raised her free hand in a salute, the champagne sloshing in her glass.

He groaned.

“Want to help?” she asked.

“Help with what?” His mind had blanked.

“My celebration.”

He blew out a huge breath. He'd stepped into deep water and was going under fast.

“You'll regret this tomorrow,” he warned.

“I don't think so. And, Cole?”

“Yes?”

“I'll still respect you in the morning.”

Before he could come up with anything, she kissed him. Hot and hungry. Demanding.

He let himself go, lost himself in the kiss, the taste of chocolate, champagne, and sexy woman. Tongue danced with tongue, and her body melted into his, her skin soft as rainwater under his workman's hands.

He couldn't get enough.

Her soft moan snapped him out of the trance.

He took a step away, and his hands stilled. “We can't do this, Jenni Beth. Not here, not now.”

“'Spose not.” She tugged at her shirt, straightened it.

The champagne high remained, her lopsided grin back.

“Tell me about your bride.”

She laughed. “You won't believe it.”

“Oh, you might be surprised.”

“Yeah? Magnolia House's first bride is a biker chick.”

His brows rose, and she nodded smugly.

“I told you. It's not quite what I imagined for my first, but—” She shrugged. “The bride is ecstatic, and so am I.”

* * *

Wandering to the safety of her desk, she explained that Stella was the friend of a friend.

“Lorrie Davis. You remember her.”

His ears turned red. “Yeah, I do. She was a year behind me in school.”

“That's right.” She couldn't help but dig. “If I'm not mistaken, you knew her pretty well.”

“We might have gone out a couple times.”

“I heard a rumor or two to that effect.” She could almost set aside that tiny lick of jealousy as she watched him squirm.

She rambled on, filling him in on what they'd accomplished with the house while he'd been in Savannah. The entire time she talked, her mind raced. Her body tingled. How stupid to have kissed him. Here.

Thank God he'd the good sense to step away. Of course, he hadn't emptied half a bottle of champagne. But could she blame it on that?

Probably not. Shoot.

“When do Stella and Steve plan to hold this wedding?”

“In two weeks.”

“You're kiddin'.” His smile faded.

She shook her head.

He moved close, stared into her eyes, and placed his palm on her forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“Checkin' to see if you're delusional with fever.”

She swatted his hand away.

“Honey, I don't want to be that clichéd wet blanket, but you can't possibly be ready in time.”

“Yes, I can. That's the truly fantastic part. The bride wants the ceremony in the rose garden. We won't need the house itself for anything more than a backdrop.”

She made another happy sound. “I explained we were renovating, that the bridal suite wouldn't be finished. She doesn't care. She's perfectly okay with using this office as her bride's room and insists the garden area suits her and her groom to a T.”

She bit her lip. “This is exactly what I didn't want to do, though. A hodgepodge, put-out-fires type of job. But…” She sighed. “I have a chance to make some money and start a portfolio. How can I turn it down? It's like a little gift from heaven.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them away. “Maybe this is Wes up there, helping.”

Cole nodded, his face a mask. “You're right. You have to do what you have to do. Speaking of which, this place is phenomenal.” He turned, taking in her small office.

“It is, isn't it? Look at the chandelier.” She flipped the switch, and the crystals glittered.

“Nice.”

“Charlie Pearce helped me with the room. And Jeeters.” She grinned and swiped at the last of her tears.

“That's what your mother said.”

“I pulled it off on a shoestring thanks to Beck and you.”

“This isn't my work.”

“No, but you've put in some sweaty days. And you gave me this fabulous light. Plus, I found some things at Dinky Tubbs's salvage that worked really well, thanks to you. Come look at the bath.”

He followed her, stood with both hands on the doorjamb, and peered inside. “Impeccable.” He walked to the sink and turned the water on, then off. “These faucets are great.”

“Very upper-crust, don't you think? Dinky said he found them in an old Atlanta hotel.”

“I do. You and Dinky hit it off pretty well, huh?”

“We did.” Jenni Beth looked at Cole. “He told me his shop was nothing compared to yours.”

“Come see it, Jenni Beth. I've asked you before. Savannah's an hour's drive at most, and I've got a lot of great pieces you can use. This place won't self-destruct if you leave for a couple days.”

“I don't know, Cole. I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

“I'm not invitin' you for an illicit weekend.”

Heat raced up her chest, her cheeks. “I didn't say you were.”

“But that's what you're thinkin'.”

“You don't know that.”

“Oh yeah, sugar, I do. And that pretty pink tinge on your cheeks tells me I'm right on the mark.”

“After dinner at your house…”

“Don't forget the pre-dinner appetizer. Pretty good, huh?”

“Yes.” Despite herself, she broke into a grin, blamed it on the remnants of champagne in her system. “Maybe too good.”

“No such thing. We've stepped over that line, sugar, whatever it is.” His gaze drilled her. “Why are you runnin' cold again?”

She gave a little half-laugh. “Oh, there's no cold, believe me. But I have a lot to do. Especially now that I have a booking.”

“That's not it. It's Savannah, isn't it?”

“Go away, Cole.”

“Damn it, Jenni Beth. I was a jerk. A total jackass.” He threw his hands in the air. “I admit it, okay? If I could go back—”

“You wouldn't do it any differently,” she finished for him.

He stared at her so intensely she could all but feel the burn.

“You're probably right,” he said on a sigh. “Under the same circumstances…” He laid a hand on her cheek. “Wes asked me to check on his baby sister. Make sure you were doin' okay. What did I do?” He made a derisive sound. “Took you to bed.”

“You weren't alone in that bed,” she said quietly. “But I was when I woke up the next morning. You sneaked out like a cat burglar. You didn't call, email, text. Nothing, Cole.”

“I couldn't. I couldn't rationalize what happened, what I'd done. I couldn't come up with anything but lame excuses. I wasn't ready to take it to another level, so I did what I thought best. For both of us. I'm sorry, Jenni Beth. I took advantage of your innocence.”

“Cut it out, Cole. I'm only two years younger than you. And I wasn't a virgin.”

“You damn well should have been.”

“Oh, that's rich!” She braced a hand on her hip and stared him down. “And when did you lose your virginity?” She held up her hand, palm out. “No, don't tell me. You were the sage old age of fourteen. Eighteen-year-old Missy Simpkins took you on your first ride in the backseat of her daddy's Chevy.”

Cole's mouth opened, then closed. Opened again. “How do you know that?”

Her chin tipped defiantly. “The same way you know about my hairbrush microphone. I can eavesdrop, too. And, boy, some of yours and Wes's conversations were pretty enlightening. I learned a lot.”

He had the gall to look indignant. “You listened to us?”

“Heck yes, I did.”

“I don't even want to think about what you might have heard.”

She laughed.

He realized how much he'd missed that laugh this week, how much he'd missed her. It scared him.

“Tell me you'll come to Savannah, sugar.” A thought struck him. “You didn't leave anyone there, did you?”

“What?”

“A guy. Someone who can't wait for you to hit the city again?”

“No.” She shook her head and took another sip of her warming champagne. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she said, “Maybe all this time I've been waiting for you.”

“Yeah, right.” He turned her to face the mirror over the fireplace. “Take a really long, hard look. You're cover-model, drop-dead gorgeous and so darned smart. What would you want with somebody like me? What do I have to offer?”

“You're kidding, right?”

“My God, you have men droppin' like flies. One look and they're goners. I'm not in your class, sweetheart.”

“No, you're not. You, Cole Bryson, are far too good for me.”

He snorted.

“Without question. You give to everybody. You're the most kindhearted man I know. Except when you're sneaking out of my bedroom in the middle of the night.” She hesitated. “I really didn't expect you to come back, you know.”

“You lost me.”

“From Savannah. When you left last week, I figured so long—again.”

“I told you I'd be back.”

“Yes, you did. But talk is cheap.”

“I'm here.”

“You are. Thank you.”

She stared out the window for a minute, watched one of the workers hike across the yard with a couple two-by-fours over his shoulder.

“Here are my thoughts for what they're worth. You're right. You
were
a jackass. But we've both changed since then. For better or worse?” She lifted her shoulders. “I guess only time will tell. Speaking for myself, I'm ready to kiss and make up.”

Cole couldn't have said which of them moved first. Suddenly he had his arms full of delicious woman, his mouth on hers, tongue dancing in and out, tasting her heat, her fire, her sweetness and desire.

His hand moved to her waist. Bare skin. He all but groaned. Her shirt had ridden up when her arms wrapped around his neck. Smooth as Dee-Ann's homemade ice cream. Soft as his grandma's chenille afghan. And sexy as hell.

The office door opened, and Mrs. Beaumont walked in, waving a printout. “How about these dishes, Jenni Beth? I think they'd be perfect for a summer wedding.”

The two staggered away from each other so fast he probably would have fallen had the chair not been directly behind him.

“Oh, hello, Cole,” Sue Ellen Beaumont greeted. “I didn't realize you were still here.” She patted his cheek.

He met Jenni Beth's gaze. Her mom had to have seen the two of them crawling all over each other through the glass doors.
Awkward
echoed through his brain with guilt nipping at its heels.

Sue Ellen dropped onto the settee and patted the space beside her. “Sit down, dear, and tell me what you think.”

Without blinking an eye, Jenni Beth did as told and listened intently while her mother ran over the dishes' pros and their price. Cole was impressed. Both women apparently had a knack for glazing over uncomfortable situations. Then again, they were bred south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Maybe it was in their DNA.

As for himself, he couldn't decide whether to stay or tuck tail and run. Did they expect him to voice his opinion on the dishes—a real find in his mind—or stay out of the discussion and let them work it out?