Bride Quartet Collection (78 page)

“‘Never Ending Love,’” Wyatt supplied with a grin. “We’ve already picked it.Will your artist of a florist work with us, not only on the wedding landscape, but the bouquets and all that?”

“Every step of the way. It’s entirely about you, and creating the perfect—even too-perfect—day for you,” she said with a smile for Deeanne.

“I love the pond,” Deeanne murmured as they stood on the terrace looking out. “I love the image you’ve just painted in my head.”

“Because the image is you, baby.” Karen Bliss took her daughter’s hand. “It’s absolutely you.”

“Dancing on the lawn?” Wyatt’s mother glanced over. “I checked out the website, too, and I know you have a gorgeous ballroom. But maybe they could have dancing out here.”

“Absolutely. Either, both, however you want it done. If you’re interested we can set up a full consult, with my partners, discuss those areas, and more details.”

“What do you say we take a look at the rest.” Wyatt leaned down to kiss Deeanne’s temple.

A
T FOUR THIRTY, PARKER WAS BACK AT HER DESK REFINING SPREADSHEETS, charts, schedules. In concession to the end of the day’s appointments, her suit jacket hung on the back of her chair, and her shoes sat under the desk.

She calculated another hour’s paperwork, and considered the day a blissfully light one.The rest of the week promised to be insanely jammed, but with any luck, by six she’d be able to change into casual clothes and treat herself to a glass of wine and actually sit down to a meal.

She went
hmm?
at the rap on her doorjamb.

“Got a minute?” Mac asked.

“I happen to have several on me. You can have one.” Parker swiveled in her chair as Mac hauled in two shopping bags. “I missed you in the gym this morning, but I see you’ve continued your weight lifting.”

Grinning, Mac flexed. “Pretty good, huh?”

“You’re ripped, Elliot.You’ll have showstopping arms on Wedding Day.”

Mac dropped into a chair.“I have to do justice to the dress you found me. Listen, I’ve sworn not to become Mad Bride or Weepy Bride or other various aspects of Annoying Bride, but it’s getting close and I just need assurances from the goddess of all wedding planners.”

“It’s going to be perfect, and exactly right.”

“I changed my mind on the first dance again.”

“It doesn’t matter.You can change it up until the countdown.”

“But it’s symptomatic, Parks. I can’t seem to stick to a basic item like a damn song.”

“It’s an important song.”

“Is Carter taking dance lessons?”

Parker widened her eyes. “Why would you ask me?”

“I
knew
it! God, that’s so sweet.You got Carter to take dance lessons so he won’t step on my feet during our first dance.”

“Carter asked me to arrange it—as a surprise. So don’t spoil it.”

“It makes me gooey.” Her shoulders lifted and fell with her happy sigh.“Maybe I can’t stick because I keep going gooey. Anyway, I had that off-site engagement shoot this afternoon.”

“How’d it go?”

“Aces.They’re so damn cute I wanted to marry both of them. Then I did something stupid on the way home. I stopped by the shoe department at Nordstrom.”

“Which I have already cleverly deduced by the shopping bags.”

“I bought ten pair. I’m taking most of them back, but—”

“Why?”

Mac narrowed her green eyes. “Don’t encourage the lunatic. I couldn’t stick, again. I already bought my wedding shoes, right? Didn’t we all agree they’re perfect?”

“Stunning and perfect.”

“Exactly, so why did I buy four alternate pair?”

“I thought you said ten.”

“The other six are for the honeymoon—well, four of them, then I really needed a new pair of work shoes and they were so cute I got one pair in copper and another in this wild green. But that’s not important.”

“Let me see them.”

“The wedding shoes first, and don’t say anything until I line them all up.” Mac held up both hands. “Total poker face. No expression, no sound.”

“I’ll turn around, work on this spreadsheet.”

“Better you than me,” Mac muttered, then got to work.

Parker ignored the rustling, the sighs, until Mac gave her the go-ahead.

Turning, Parker scanned the shoes lined up on a work counter. Rose, crossed over, scanned again. She kept her face blank, said nothing as she picked up a shoe, examined it, set it back, moved to the next.

“You’re killing me,” Mac told her.

“Quiet.” She walked away to take out a folder, slipping out the photo taken of Mac in her wedding dress. She took it back to the selection of shoes, nodded.

“Yes. Definitely.” She picked up a pair. “You’d be a lunatic not to wear these.”

“Really!” Mac slapped her hands together. “
Really?
Because those were the ones.The. Ones. But I kept waffling back and forth and sideways. Oooh, look at them.The heels, they’re all sparkly, and the ankle strap’s so sexy—but not too sexy. Right?”

“The perfect blend of sparkly, sexy, and sophisticated. I’ll take the others back.”

“But—”

“I’ll return them because you’ve found the ultimate wedding shoe and need to stick.You have to remove the others from your sight and stay out of the shoe department until after the wedding.”

“You’re so wise.”

Parker inclined her head. “I am indeed wise. And as such, I do believe this pair may very well be Emma’s wedding shoe. I’ll exchange it for her size, and we’ll see.”

“Oh, oh, again, wise points.” Mac picked up the pair Parker indicated. “More romantic, more princessy. This is great. I’m exhausted.”

“Leave the wedding shoes—all of them—with me. Take the others. Oh, and check your calendar when you get home. I added in consults.”

“How many?”

“Out of the five tours I did today, we have three full consults, one need to talk it over with Daddy—who’s footing the bill—and one who’s still shopping around.”

“Three out of five?” Mac did a double fist pump. “Woo-hoo.”

“I’m betting four out of five, because Daddy’s girl wants us, and wants us bad.The fifth? The bride just isn’t ready to decide. Her mother wants us, which my instincts tell me is a strike against us in this case.We’ll see.”

“Well, I’m psyched. Three fulls and I’ve bagged the perfect wedding shoes. I’m going home to give my guy a big wet kiss, and he won’t know it’s because he’s taking dance lessons. Thanks, Parks. See you later.”

Parker sat, studied the shoes on the counter. She thought of Mac rushing home to Carter.Thought of Laurel greeting Del when he came home after a two-day business conference in Chicago. And Emma maybe sitting out on her little patio having wine with Jack and dreaming of her own wedding flowers.

She swiveled around to stare at the spreadsheet on the screen. She had her work, she reminded herself. Work she loved. And that’s what mattered right now.

Her BlackBerry signaled, and a glance at the readout told her another bride needed to talk.

“I’ve always got you,” she murmured, then answered. “Hi, Brenna.What can I do for you?”

CHAPTER TWO

P
ARKER DEALT WITH THE SHOES, AND BECAUSE SHE WAS ON A tight schedule, she only indulged in one pair for herself. She met a bride, the bride’s favorite aunt—who would give her away—and the bride’s maid of honor for lunch to discuss wedding favors, music, and—coincidentally—shoes.

She swung by the bridal boutique where, at the request of another bride, she assisted in the finalization of the gowns for the wedding party, gave her input on underpinnings and headdresses, met yet another bride and entourage to pore over linen choices. Then she dashed to Coffee Talk for a quick meeting with Sherry Maguire, Carter’s delightful sister, whose wedding was imminent.

“Diane’s being a poop,” Sherry announced and pouted with her chin on her fist.

“The wedding’s not about your sister.”

“I know, I know, but she’s still being a poop. A total downer. A kill-all-the-joy bitchfestia.”

“Sherry, in less than two weeks you’re marrying the man you love. Correct?”

The light sparked in Sherry’s summer blue eyes. “Oh yeah.”

“Everything about the day has been designed to make you happy, to celebrate that love. Correct?”

“God. God. It really has.You, all of you, have been amazing.”

“Then be happy. Celebrate. And if your sister’s cranky about it,I have to say that’s her problem.”

“That’s exactly what Nick says.” Sherry tossed up her hands, then shoved them through her sunny blond hair.“And my mother. But . . . she says she’s not coming to the rehearsal or the rehearsal dinner.”

The poop, Parker thought, but showed only light sympathy. “I’m sorry.Why not?”

“She’s not in the wedding, she says. Well, she didn’t
want
to be. I asked her to be the matron of honor, but she didn’t want that. Didn’t see why she should have to go through all that fuss, why I wanted a matron
and
a maid of honor.”

“Your sister and your oldest, closest friend.”

“Exactly.” Sherry thumped a fist on the table, then jabbed a spoon in the whipped cream on her fancy coffee. “So now, she doesn’t see why she should get a sitter and come to the dinner. I said the kids were invited, too, but then it’s how she’s not going to ride herd on them all night at a rehearsal dinner, then turn around and ride herd on them at the wedding.Too much stimulation for them, she says, too exhausting for her. So I said we’d pay for the damn sitter then so she and Sam could have the night out. And she got huffy about
that
. I can’t win.”

“Stop trying to.”

“But she’s my sister, Parker. It’s my wedding.” Tears sparkled as emotion trembled in Sherry’s voice.

And this, Parker thought, had been throughout the entire process, the most cheerful, delightful, and flexible of brides.

Damn if she’d see a moment of it spoiled for her.

“I’ll speak with her.”

“But—”

“Sherry.” Parker laid a hand over hers. “Trust me.”

“Okay.” Sherry sucked in a breath, blew it out as she blinked back the tears. “Sorry. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not.” To emphasize it, Parker gave Sherry’s hand a quick, firm squeeze. “Let me say, because I know a lot of idiots, you just don’t make the cut. So, do me a favor and put this out of your mind for now. Just put it aside and concentrate on how good things are, and how wonderful they will be.”

“You’re right. I knew you’d make me feel better.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Under the table, Parker turned her wrist to check the time. She could spare another ten minutes.

“So, you’re all set on your spa and salon dates, your final fittings?”

The ten eked to nearly fifteen, but she’d built time in to cushion the trip back home for the early-evening consult. Even the rain that splattered as she walked back to the car didn’t worry her.

She had plenty of time to drive home, freshen up, grab the files, check on the refreshments, and run through the client data with her partners. But to save time, she plugged in her phone and used the voice controls to contact Laurel.

“Icing at Vows.”

“Hey, I’m on my way in. Are we set?”

“Coffee, tea, champagne, simple yet fabulous hors d’oeuvres, chocolates. Emma’s already switched the flowers.We all have—or will have—our sample albums. Wow, is that thunder?”

“Yeah, it just opened up.” Parker shot a glance to the angry boil of clouds. “I’ll be home in about twenty. Bye.”

The storm roared through, wild and vicious, and she thought just how much she’d have enjoyed it if she’d been inside. Soon would be, she thought, but adjusted her speed cautiously as rain hurled against the windshield.

She rolled along the road toward home, going over details about the new clients in her head.

It happened fast, all in a rain-washed blur.

The dog—deer?—raced across the road. The oncoming car swerved to avoid it, fishtailed. Parker eased off the gas, tapped her brakes, even as her heart leveled again when the animal cleared the road.

But the oncoming car fishtailed again, straight at her.

Once again her heart flipped. With no choice, she cut the wheel hard to avoid the collision. Her car skidded, bucked onto the shoulder of the road. Her rear end shimmied around while the car jolted side to side.The oncoming car nipped by her.

And just kept going.

She sat, her hands glued to the wheel, her knees shaking, and her heart a drumbeat in her ears.

“Okay,” she breathed. “I’m okay. Not hurt. I’m not hurt.”

Since she wanted to stay that way, she ordered herself to steer the car fully onto the shoulder until the shaking stopped. Someone else could come along and broadside her.

The best she could manage was a thumping limp.

Flat tire, she thought and closed her eyes. Perfect.

Grabbing her fold-up umbrella from the glove box, she got out to survey the damage.

“Oh, not a flat,” she muttered. “A flat’s just not good enough.
Two
. Two goddamn shredded tires.” She rolled her eyes to the heavens, which, she noted bitterly, were already clearing.

She found the faint shimmer of a rainbow arching in a miserly glint of sun personally insulting under the circumstances.

She would, almost certainly, be late for the consult, but she wouldn’t arrive soaking wet.

Bright side.

She climbed back in, called for roadside assistance. Because her hands still shook, she opted to wait another few minutes before calling home.

She’d just say she had a flat, she decided, and was waiting for the guy to come change it. She could damn well have changed a flat tire if she’d had to, she mused. But she only had one spare.

Pressing a hand on her jumpy belly, she thumbed a Tums out of the roll in her purse.

Probably thirty minutes for the tow truck, if she was lucky, then she’d have to ask the driver to take her home, or call a cab. She wasn’t going to call home and ask one of her partners to come get her and let them see the car.

Not before a consult.

A cab, she decided. If she called a cab it would be on its way here along with the tow truck. More efficient that way. If she’d just stop shaking, she could get everything in order again. Deal with the situation.

She heard the roar of an engine, and her gaze flew to the rear-view mirror. Already slowing down, she realized as she let air out again.A motorcycle, which certainly had more than enough room to get around her.

Instead, it pulled up behind.

Good Samaritan, she thought. Not everyone was a negligent ass like the other driver had been. She pushed her door open to tell the biker she’d already called for help, and stepped out.

And saw Malcolm Kavanaugh pull off the black helmet.

It just got better and better, she thought. Now she was being “rescued” by her brother’s friend, their current mechanic, a man who irritated her more often than not.

She watched him survey the situation while the thinning rain dampened his black, unkempt hair. His jeans were ripped at the knee, stained with oil on the thighs. The black shirt and leather jacket added to the image of sexy bad boy with a build for sin.

And eyes, she thought as they met hers, that challenged a woman to commit one. More than one.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He gave her a long look as if deciding for himself.“Your airbag didn’t deploy.”

“I wasn’t going that fast. I didn’t hit anything. I
avoided
getting hit by a moron who swerved to avoid a dog, then kept coming at me. I had to cut toward the shoulder and—”

“Where is he? The other driver?”

“He just kept going. Who does that? How can anyone do that?”

Saying nothing, he reached by her, pulled her bottle of water out of the cup holder. “Sit down. Drink some water.”

“I’m okay. I’m just angry. I’m really, really angry.”

He gave her a little poke, and she sat sideways on the front seat. “How’s your spare?”

“It’s never been used. It’s new. I got all new tires last winter. Damn it.”

“You’re going to need a couple new ones now.” He crouched for a moment so those sharp green eyes were level with hers.

It took her a moment to realize the movement, and the matter-of-fact tone of his voice, were probably designed to keep her calm. Since it seemed to be working, she had to appreciate it.

“We’ll match them with what you’ve got,” he continued. “I want to check the car out while I’m at it.”

“Yes, fine, okay.” She drank, realizing her throat was raw. “Thanks. I’m just—”

“Really, really angry,” he finished as he straightened. “I don’t blame you.”

“And I’m going to be late. I hate being late. I’ve got a consult at home in, oh hell, twenty minutes. I need to call a cab.”

“No, you don’t.” He looked back down the road at the approaching tow truck.

“That was fast, you were fast. I didn’t expect . . .” She paused as her brain started to function again. “Were you out this way, on your bike?”

“I am out this way, on my bike,” he corrected. “Since you called in for service due to being run off the road.You didn’t call the cops?”

“I didn’t get the plate, or even the kind of car.” And that galled her. Just
galled
. “It happened so fast, and it was raining, and—”

“And it would be a waste of time. Still, Bill’s going to take pictures and report it for you.”

She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Okay. Thanks. Really, thank you. I guess I’m a little rattled.”

“First time I’ve seen you that way. Hold on.”

He walked to the truck, and while he spoke with his driver she sipped the water and ordered herself to settle down. Everything was fine, just fine.The driver would give her a ride home, and she wouldn’t even be late.Ten minutes home, five minutes to freshen up. She’d give the simple flat tire story after the consult.

Everything was just fine.

She looked up as Malcolm walked back and handed her a fire-engine red helmet. “You’ll need this.”

“Why?”

“Safety first, Legs.” He put it on her head himself and his grin edged ever so slightly toward smirk. “Cute.”

“What?” Her eyes popped wide. “If you think I’m getting on that motorcycle—”

“You want to make your meeting? Keep your rep as Ms. Prompt and Efficient? Rain’s stopped.You won’t even get wet.” Again he reached past her, but this time their bodies bumped. He pulled out again holding her purse. “You’ll want this. Let’s go.”

“Can’t the driver—can’t he just drop me off ?”

Mal strapped her purse to the bike, swung a leg over. “You’re not afraid to ride a bike, are you? And for what, about six miles?”

“Of course I’m not afraid.”

He put on his helmet, turned on the bike, gave the engine a couple of muscular revs. “Clock’s ticking.”

“Oh for God’s—” She bit off the words, clipped her way to the bike in her heels, and, keeping her teeth gritted, managed to get a leg over the bike behind him. Her skirt hiked up high on her thighs.

“Nice.”

“Just shut up.”

She felt rather than heard his laugh. “You ever ride a Harley, Legs?”

“No.Why would I?”

“Then you’re in for a treat.You’re going to want to hold on. To me,” he added after a beat.

She put her hands lightly on either side of his waist.

But when he revved the engine again—she knew damn well he did it on purpose—she swallowed pride and wrapped her arms around him.

Why, she wondered, anyone would want to drive something so noisy, so dangerous, so—

Then they were flying down the road, and the wind blew cool and balmy and
gorgeous
over every inch of her.

Okay, a thrill, she admitted, and her heart skipped as he leaned into a turn. A terrifying sort of thrill. Like a roller coaster, which was another thing she could admit was exciting without being a necessary experience in a well-rounded life.

The landscape whizzed by. She smelled the rain, the grass, the leather of his jacket, felt the throb of the bike between her legs.

Sexual, she admitted. Add arousing to that terrifying thrill. Which was surely the reason people rode bikes.

When he swung onto her drive, she had to resist flinging her arms up in the air to feel the wind give her palms a slapping high five.