Bride Quartet Collection (38 page)

“Looks like somebody’s having a party and forgot to invite me.”

The noise died away as everyone turned to the doorway, and Del. He stared at Jack, lifting a hand to stop Parker when she started to get to her feet.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“We’re having dinner.” Laurel spoke coolly. “If you want some you’ll need to get a plate.”

“No, thanks,” he said, just as coolly. “Parker, I’ve got some paperwork to go over with you. We’ll take care of it another time since you’re in the middle of something that’s apparently none of my business.”

“Del—”

“You and I.” He interrupted his sister, never taking his eyes off Jack. “We’ll deal later, too.”

When he strode out, Parker released a long sigh. “You didn’t tell him.”

“I was still figuring out how to . . . No,” Jack said. “No, I didn’t. I need to go straighten this out,” he told Emma.

“I’ll go with you. I can—”

“No, better not. It may take a while, so . . . I’ll call you tomorrow.” He pushed back from the table. “Sorry.”

When he left, Emma managed nearly ten seconds. “I have to at least try.” She popped up, rushed after Jack.

“He looked pretty steamed,” Mac said.

“Of course, he’s steamed. His perfect balance has been shifted.” Laurel shrugged when Parker snapped a look at her. “That’s part of it. And that part’s only worse because Jack didn’t tell him. He’s got a right to be steamed.”

“I could go after them,” Carter suggested. “Try to mediate.”

“Mediators often get punched in the face by both parties.”

He smiled humorlessly at Mac. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“No, let them hash it out.” Parker sighed again. “That’s what friends do.”

B
ECAUSE EMMA’S CONCERN HELD HIM UP A GOOD TEN MINUTES, Jack didn’t catch up with Del on the estate. But he knew where he’d go. Home, where he could curse, snarl, and brood in private.

He knocked, and had no doubt Del would open the door. For one thing, he had a key, and they both knew he’d use it if necessary. But more, Delaney Brown wasn’t one for avoiding confrontation.

When Del yanked open the door, Jack looked him in the eye. “You swing at me, I’ll swing back. We’ll both get bloody, and won’t resolve anything.”

“Fuck you, Jack.”

“Okay, fuck me. Fuck you, Del, for being an ass about—”

He took the punch to the face—because he hadn’t seen it coming—and returned it. They stood there, in the doorway, mouths bleeding.

Jack swiped at his. “Do you want to beat the hell out of each other inside or out?”

“I want to know what the hell you were doing with your hands on Emma.”

“Do you want to hear about that inside or out?”

Del merely turned, and stalked back to his great room for a beer. “How long have you been moving in on her?”

“I didn’t move in on her. If anything we moved in on each other. For Christ’s sake, Del, she’s a grown woman, she makes her own choices. It’s not like I twirled my moustache and stole her virginity.”

“Watch it,” Del warned, then the temper in his eyes went lethal. “You slept with her?”

“Let’s back it up.” Not a good start, Cooke, he thought. Not the best of springboards. “Let’s just back it up.”

“Yes or no, goddamn it.”

“Yes, goddamn it. I slept with her, she slept with me. We slept with each other.”

Something murderous flashed in Del’s eyes. “I ought to beat you senseless.”

“You can try. We’ll both end up in the ER. And when I get out, I’m still going to sleep with her.” Something equally deadly flared in Jack’s. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

“The hell it isn’t.”

Because he felt he had more strikes on the wrong side of the column than Del, Jack nodded. “Okay, given the circumstances, it’s your business. But it’s not your right to tell either of us who to be with.”

“How long?”

“It just happened. It just started turning on me, on us, I guess, the last couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks.” Del bit off the words “And you didn’t say anything to me about it.”

“No, I didn’t, mostly to try to avoid getting punched in the face.” Jack yanked open the fridge, got out a beer. “I knew you wouldn’t like it, and I hadn’t figured out how to explain.”

“You didn’t have any trouble explaining it to everyone else, apparently.”

“No, I didn’t, but then everyone else wasn’t going to smash their bare fists into my face because I’m sleeping with a beautiful, interesting,
willing
woman.”

“She’s not any woman. She’s Emma.”

“I know that.” Frustration piqued to beat down the anger. “I know who she is, and I know how you feel about her. About all of them. Which is why I kept my hands off her until . . . recently,” he finished, and held the cold bottle to his throbbing jaw. “I’ve always had a thing for her, but I set it aside. ‘Just don’t go there, Jack.’ Because you wouldn’t like it, Del. You’re my closest friend.”

“You’ve had a thing for a lot of women.”

“That’s right,” Jack said evenly.

“Emma isn’t the type you sleep with until you catch wind of something new. She’s the kind you make promises to, make plans with.”

“For God’s sake, Del, I’m just getting used to . . .” He didn’t make plans or promises—ever. Plans changed, didn’t they? Promises got broken. Keeping it loose was keeping it honest.

“We were together one night. We’re still figuring things out. And cut me a small break here. However many women I’ve been with I’ve never lied to them or treated them with anything but respect.”

“April Westford.”

“Jesus, Del, we were in grad school, and she was stalking me. She was a lunatic. She tried to break into our house. She keyed my car. She keyed
your
car.”

Del paused, took a swig of beer. “All right, you’ve got a point with that one. Emma’s different. She’s different.”

“That small break, Del? I know she’s different. Do you think I don’t care about her? That it’s just the sex?” Unable to stand still, Jack paced from the bar to the counter and back again. It unnerved him, the depth of the caring. It was twisted up enough already without his best friend going off about promises, about Emma being different.

“I’ve always cared about Emma. About all of them. You know that. You damn well know that.”

“Have you had sex with the rest of them, too?”

Jack took a long sip, and thought the hell with it. “I kissed your sister. Parker, since right now you’re thinking of all of them as your sister. Back in college, after we ran into each other at a party.”

“You hit on Parker?” It wasn’t temper now but sheer shock that radiated. “Do I even know who you are?”

“I didn’t hit on her. We bumped lips. It seemed like the thing to do at the time. Then, since it felt like kissing
my
sister, and she had pretty much the same reaction, we had a good laugh about it, and that was that.”

“Did you try out Mac next? Laurel?”

His eyes went hard and hot; his fingers itched to make another fist. “Oh yeah, I went through them all. That’s what I do. I go through women like they’re bags of chips then litter the streets with what’s left of them. What the fuck do you take me for?”

“Right now, I don’t know. You should’ve told me you were thinking about Emma that way.”

“Oh yeah, I can see that. ‘Hey, Del, I’m thinking about having sex with Emma. What do you think?’ ”

It wasn’t temper that leaped back on Del’s face, nor was it shock now. It was ice, and to Jack’s mind, that was worse.

“Let’s try it this way. How would you feel if you’d walked in tonight? Try that on, Jack.”

“I’d be pissed. I’d feel betrayed. You want me to say I fucked it up? I fucked it up. But every way I look at it ends up like this. You think I don’t know how it is for you? The position you took on when your parents died? And what they all mean to you? Every one of them. I was there with you through it, Del.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with—”

“Everything does, Del.” Jack paused a moment, spoke more calmly now. “I know it doesn’t matter that Emma has a family. She’s yours.”

Some of the ice thawed. “Remember that. And remember this. If you hurt her, I’ll hurt you.”

“That’s fair. Are we okay on this?”

“Not yet.”

“Let me know when we are.” Jack set down the half-finished beer.

W
ITH NO CHOICE, EMMA BUCKLED DOWN TO FINISH THE WORK for Friday’s event. She and her full crew began early Friday morning designing and creating the flowers for the other weekend events.

Late in the afternoon, she began shifting flowers from the cooler, putting others in, loading the van so her team could start dressing the house and terraces.

Once the reception was under way, she’d come back and finish what was left on her own.

Just prior to the bride’s arrival, she and Beach filled the portico urns with enormous white hydrangeas. “Gorgeous. Perfect. Go on in and help Tiffany with the foyer. I’ll go work with Tink around back.”

She made the dash, calculating the time, checking other pots and arrangements along the route. On the terrace, she climbed the ladder to hook the white rose ball in the center of the pergola.

“I didn’t think I was going to like it.” Tink hauled the standing arrangements into place. “White’s so, you know,
white
. But it’s really interesting, and sort of magical. Hiya, Jack. Gee, who punched you?”

“Del and I punched each other. Just something we do every so often.”

“For God’s sake.”

If he’d expected Emma to get fluttery about his bruised jaw, he was disappointed. Annoyance in every movement, she climbed down the ladder, set her hands on her hips. “Why is it men think beating on each other fixes anything?”

“Why do women think eating chocolate does? It’s the nature of the beast.”

“Tink, let’s finish the swags. Chocolate at least makes you feel good,” Emma said as she continued to work. “A fist in the face doesn’t. And did it fix things?”

“Not completely. But it’s a start.”

“Is he all right?” She pressed her lips together as she glanced back at Jack. “I know Parker tried to call him, but he’s been in court all day.”

“He hit me first.” Jack took the ladder from her, moved it where she pointed, then tapped his swollen lip. “Ouch.”

With a roll of her eyes, Emma gave him a very light kiss. “I don’t have time to feel sorry for you right now, but I promise to make time later if you want to stay.”

“I was just going to drop by, let you know things are . . . not quite, then get out of the way. I know you’re slammed through the weekend.”

“I am, and you can probably find something a lot better to do than hang around here.”

He’d feel guilty, just a little miserable, still somewhat pissed, she thought. It called, to her mind, for friends and family.

“But . . . you could hang around here. Or with Carter, or at my place. If you want. I’m going to duck out during the reception and finish up some things for tomorrow.”

“Why don’t we play it by ear?”

“That’s fine.” She stepped back, studied the pergola, then hooked an arm through Jack’s. “What do you think?”

“That I didn’t know there were so many white flowers in the world. It’s elegant and fanciful at the same time.”

“Exactly.” She turned toward him, brushed her fingers through his hair and her lips at the corner of his abused mouth. “I need to go check the Grand Hall and the Ballroom.”

“Maybe I’ll see if Carter can come out and play.”

“I’ll see you later, if . . .”

“If,” he agreed, then risked the pain for a more serious kiss. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

She laughed, and made the dash inside.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A
T THE END OF THE NIGHT, WITH HER COOLER FILLED WITH bouquets, centerpieces, and arrangements for the rest of the weekend—and the full knowledge she’d have to be up by six to complete more—Emma made it as far as the sofa before she dropped.

“You’re actually going to do all of this again tomorrow,” Jack said. “Twice.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And one more time on Sunday.”

“Uh-huh. I need to get in a solid two hours on Sunday’s, in the morning before dressing the first event. But the team can finish up the rest of Sunday’s while I’m dealing with Saturday’s. Both Saturday’s.”

“I’ve helped out a few times, but never actually . . . It’s every weekend?”

“It slows down some in the winter.” She snuggled in a little, toed off her shoes. “April through June are the prime months, with another big jump in September and October. But basically? Yes, every weekend.”

“I took a look at your cooler when you were working. You definitely need that second one.”

“I really do. When we started, none of us imagined we’d get this big. No, that’s wrong. Parker did.” It made her smile to think of it. “Parker always did. I just figured I’d be able to make a living wage doing what I liked.” Relaxing inch by inch, she curled aching toes. “I never thought we’d get to a point where we’re all juggling events and duties, clients, subs. It’s amazing.”

“You could use more help.”

“Probably. It’s the same for you, really, isn’t it?” When he lifted her feet onto his lap, rubbed those cramped toes and tired arches, her eyes drifted shut. “I remember when you started your firm. It was basically you. Now you have staff, associates. If you’re not working on drawings, you’re on-site or meeting with clients. When it’s your company, it’s a whole lot different from punching time.”

She opened her eyes again, met his gaze. “And every time you hire somebody—even when it’s the best thing, the right thing, to do for yourself and your business—it feels like giving just a little bit of it away.”

“I had myself talked in and talked out of hiring Chip a dozen times, just for that reason. The same with Janis, then Michelle. Now I’ve taken on a summer intern.”

“That’s great. God, doesn’t that make us the older generation? That’s hard to deal with.”

“He’s twenty-one. Just. I felt ancient when I interviewed him. What time do you have to start tomorrow?”

“Let me think . . . Six, I guess. Six thirty maybe.”

“I should let you get some sleep.” In an absent gesture, he ran a hand up and down her calf. “You’re pretty tied up for the weekend. If you’re up for it, we could go out Monday.”

“Out? Like out there?” She waved a hand in the air. “Where there are places where people bring you food, and possibly entertainment?”

He smiled. “Dinner and a movie sound good?”

“Dinner and a movie? It sounds like whole buckets of good.”

“Then I’ll grab a bucket and pick you up Monday, about six thirty?”

“It works for me. Really works. I have a question.” She stretched luxuriously as she sat up. “You stuck around here until after midnight, and now you’re going to go home so I can get some sleep?”

“You put in a long one.” He gave her calf a quick squeeze. “You must be tired.”

“Not that tired,” she said, and, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, pulled him down with her.

M
ONDAY EVENING, LAUREL WALKED HER CONSULT CLIENTS TO the door. September’s bride and groom took away a container holding a variety of cake samples. But she knew they’d decided on the Italian cream cake. Just as she knew the bride was leaning toward her Royal Fantasy design, and the groom her Mosaic Splendor.

The bride would win, she had no doubt, but it was nice to have a man take a genuine interest in the details.

Plus she’d talk the bride into having a groom’s cake in a mosaic design that complemented the wedding cake.

Everybody wins, she thought.

“Just let me know when you make up your minds, and don’t worry about changing those minds. There’s plenty of time.” She kept the easy smile on her face, the breezy manner intact even when she saw Del coming up the walk.

He projected successful lawyer, she thought, in his perfectly cut suit, his perfect briefcase, his handsome shoes.

“Parker’s in her office,” she told him. “I think she’s clear.”

“Okay.” He came in, shut the door. “Hey,” he said when she started up the stairs. “Are you not speaking to me?”

She flicked a glance back at him. “I just did.”

“Barely. I’m the one who should be pissed off here. You don’t have anything to be snotty about.”

“I’m being snotty?” She paused, waited for him to join her on the stairs.

“I don’t expect my friends and family to lie to me, or lie by omission. And when they do—”

She poked a finger, hard, into his shoulder, then held it up. “Number one, I didn’t know
you
didn’t know. Neither did Parker or Mac or Carter. Or Emma, for that matter. So that’s between you and Jack. Second,” she continued, poking him again when he started to speak. “I agree with you.”

“If you’d take a minute to . . . You agree with me?”

“Yes, I do. And in your place I’d have been hurt and pissed off. Jack should have told you he and Emma were involved.”

“Well, okay. Thanks—or sorry. Whichever you prefer.”

“However.”

“Shit.”

“However,” she repeated. “You might want to ask yourself why your best friend didn’t tell you. And you might want to look back at the way you handled the other night, how you came across as a tight-ass having a sulk.”

“Wait a damn minute.”

“That’s the way I see it, just as I see—even if I don’t agree—why Jack didn’t tell you. You’d have gone all Delaney Brown on him.”

“Just what does that mean?”

“If you don’t know, telling you won’t make any difference.”

He grabbed her hand to stop her as she moved on. “That’s such a cop-out.”

“Fine. Delaney Brown disapproves. Delaney Brown knows best. Delaney Brown will manipulate and maneuver until he positions you where he wants—for your own good.”

“That’s cold, Laurel.”

She sighed, softened. “No, it’s not. Not really. Because you really do have the best interest of your friends and family at heart. You’re just always so damn sure, Del, that you know what that is.”

“Are you going to stand there and tell me you think what’s going on with Emma and Jack is the best thing, for either of them?”

“I don’t know.” She lifted her hands, palms up. “I don’t pretend to know. All I know is that, for the moment, they’re enjoying each other.”

“It doesn’t even weird you out? It doesn’t make you feel as if you’ve stepped into an alternate reality?”

She had to laugh. “Not exactly. It’s a little—”

“It’s like—what if I suddenly put moves on you? I just decide, hey, I’d like to have sex with Laurel.”

The soft hardened; the laughter died. “You’re such an idiot.”

“What?
What?
” he demanded as she stormed away up the stairs. “It is an alternate reality,” he muttered, and climbed the rest of the way to his sister’s office.

She sat at her desk, where he’d expected to find her, talking on her headset as she worked at the computer. “That’s just exactly right. I knew I could count on you. They’ll need two hundred and fifty. You can deliver them to me, here, and I’ll take it from there. Thank you, so much. You, too. Bye.”

She pulled off the headset. “I just ordered two hundred and fifty rubber duckies.”

“Because?”

“The client wants them swimming in the pool on her wedding day.” She sat back, sipped from her bottle of water, and gave him a long, sympathetic look. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better, I’ve been worse. Laurel just agreed Jack was an asshole for not telling me, but apparently that’s my fault because I’m Delaney Brown. Do I manipulate people?”

She studied him carefully. “Is that a trick question?”

“Damn it.” He dumped his briefcase on the desk then walked to her coffee setup.

“Okay, serious question. Yes, of course you do. So do I. We’re problem solvers, and good at finding solutions and answers. When we do, we do what we can to move people toward those solutions and answers.”

He turned back to her, scanning her face. “Do I manipulate you, Parks?”

“Del, if you hadn’t manipulated me, to some extent, regarding the estate, how you intended to set it up after Mom and Dad died, I wouldn’t have just ordered two hundred and fifty rubber duckies. I wouldn’t have the business. None of us would.”

“That’s not the kind of thing I mean.”

“Would you, have you ever pushed me into doing something I didn’t want to do—genuinely didn’t want—and did you push because it was what you wanted? No. I’m sorry you found out about Jack and Emma the way you did. But I think the situation’s a little strange for all of us. None of us saw it coming. I don’t think Jack and Emma saw it coming.”

“I can’t get used to it.” He sat, sipped his coffee. “By the time I do, it’ll probably be over anyway.”

“Aren’t you the romantic?”

He shrugged. “Jack’s never been serious about a woman. He’s not a dog—exactly—but he’s not the long haul guy either. He wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. He’s not made like that. But . . .”

“Maybe you should have a little more faith in your two friends.” She sat back, swiveling side-to-side in the chair. “I think things happen between people for a reason. Otherwise I couldn’t do what I do every day. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t, but there’s always a reason.”

“Under that you’re telling me to stop being such a hard-ass, and just be a friend.”

“Yes.” She smiled at him. “That’s my answer, my solution, and where I’m trying to manipulate you. How am I doing?”

“Pretty well. I guess I should stop by and see Emma.”

“It would be nice.”

“Let’s go over these papers first.” He opened his briefcase.

Twenty minutes later, he gave a quick knuckle rap on Em-ma’s door, then pushed it open. “Em?”

He heard the music, or what he thought of as her work music—harps and flutes—so walked back to her work area. She sat at the counter, arranging little pink rosebuds in a white basket.

“Em.”

She jumped, swung around. “Scared me. I didn’t hear you.”

“Because I’m interrupting.”

“Just getting a head start on some arrangements for a baby shower this week. Del.” She got up. “How mad at me are you?”

“Zero. Less than zero.” He found himself ashamed she would think otherwise. “I’m at about seven out of ten with Jack, but that’s an improvement.”

“I should point out that when Jack’s sleeping with me I’m also sleeping with him.”

“Maybe we could just find a code word for that. Like you and Jack are writing a novel together, or doing lab work.”

“Are you mad because we’re doing lab work, or because we didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me. Anyway, it’s mixed. I’m trying to come to terms with the lab work, and I’m pissed he didn’t tell me you and he were . . .”

“Lining up the test tubes? Labeling the petri dishes?”

Frowning, he slid his hands into his pockets. “I don’t like the lab work code after all. I just want you to be okay, and happy.”

“I am okay. I am happy. Even though I know the two of you punched each other over it. Actually, maybe that makes me happier. It’s always flattering to have guys punch each other in the face over me.”

“It was an impulse of the moment.”

She stepped to him, reached up so she could frame his face, and brushed her lips over his. “Try not to do it again. It involves two of my favorite faces. Let’s go sit out on the back patio, drink some lemonade, and be friends.”

“Okay.”

W
HILE THEY DID, JACK TOOK A SEAT IN MAC’S STUDIO AND unrolled the plans for the proposed addition.

“It’s the same design I e-mailed you, but with more detail, and the couple of changes you wanted.”

“Look, Carter! You have your own room.”

He danced his fingers over Mac’s bright cap of hair. “I was kind of hoping we’d still share one.”

Mac laughed, leaned closer to the plans. “Just look at my dressing room. Well, client dressing room. And God, I
love
the patio space we’ll get. Want a beer, Jack?”

“No, thanks. Got anything soft?”

“Sure. Diet.”

“Crap. Water.”

When she went into the kitchen, Jack pointed out details to Carter. “These built-ins will give you plenty of shelves for books, or whatever you want. For files, for supplies.”

“What’s this? A fireplace?”

“One of Mac’s changes. She said every professor worth his PhD should have a fireplace in his study. It’s a small gas log unit. It’ll also provide an additional heat source for the room.”

Carter glanced over as Mac came back with a bottle of water and two beers. “You got me a fireplace.”

“I did. It must be love.” She kissed him lightly, then bent to pick up their three-legged cat, Triad.

It must be, Jack thought when she sat and the cat curled in her lap.

While they discussed details, choices of materials, he wondered what it was like to feel that connection with and that certainty about another person.