For Better or Worse (3 page)

The types of weddings that were featured not just in all of the biggest bridal magazines, but on E! and in
Us Weekly
and
People
and
Vogue
and . . .

“And she wants you.”

It took Heather a full thirty seconds to register that Alexis was talking to her.

“Wait, what?” Heather asked incredulously.

Alexis's eyes were twinkling in happiness, and Brooke was grinning at her, too.

“What do you mean, she wants
me
?” Heather asked, not daring to hope.

It's not that Heather thought she lacked the skills. She
knew
she was good. She knew that Alexis knew she was good. But she was woefully short on experience.

Alexis had been giving her more and more responsibility in the last few months, but Heather didn't have a mile-long resume of famous clients like Brooke and Alexis did. She'd assisted with a bunch of weddings, definitely, but she'd never had one to claim as hers,
all
hers.

But if she was understanding Alexis correctly . . .

Heather's heart began to pound in excitement.

“She saw the pictures from the Monteith wedding in August on our website” Alexis was explaining, referring to the swanky but small black-tie wedding that Heather had put together for a middle-aged congressman and his second wife. “Danica said it was exactly the kind of class she was looking for.
Insisted
that whoever did that wedding do hers.”

“The Monteith wedding was yours,” Heather said hesitantly, even though she didn't exactly want to remind her boss whose name had been attached to the project.

Alexis shook her head. “You know as well as I do that the cold turned laryngitis rendered me mostly
useless. You stepped in and killed it. You know it, I know it, and now Danica Robinson knows it.”

Holy crap.

Never one to play it cool, Heather squealed again, doing a little happy dance before spreading her arms wide. “Seriously?
Seriously!
Group hug, everyone. Group hug up in here.”

“I'm so happy for you,” Brooke said as she stepped into Heather's waiting embrace. “This is it. Your big break!”

“Brooke's right,” Alexis said, half stepping into the circle and giving Heather something that resembled a pat on the shoulder. Alexis wasn't one to show her affection physically. “I know you can do this, Heather. Let's see how you do running the thing all by yourself, and then I think it'll be time to talk about a change in your title, don't you?”

Heather resisted the urge to give a little fist pump of victory. This was it. This was
it
. The chance to be the real deal.

“Does Jessie know?” Heather asked, referring to the Belles' longtime receptionist, who was back at the office, manning the ever-ringing telephone.

“Yup. And she's already ensured your favorite champagne is chilled and ordered Shorty's for later.” It was a Belles' tradition for every time they nabbed an especially significant client, and the wedding planner of choice always got to select the celebratory food and beverage.

“Shorty's,” Heather said dreamily. “And she knows I like Whiz, right? Extra?”

Alexis rolled her eyes. “Yes, I think by now she
knows your penchant for sprayable cheese on your Philly steak sandwiches.”

“You're just mad because they don't have a triple-cream brie option,” Heather said, giving Alexis a smacking kiss on the cheek. “And you better not have ordered a salad again.”

Instead of answering, Alexis held up a warning finger. “There is one teeny,
tiny
detail I should mention about the Robinson wedding.”

“Bring it,” Heather said.

At this point, nothing could bring her down. Not turkey bacon instead of the real thing, or a droopy chair bow, or even a noisy neighbor.

“Are you familiar with Heidi Rivera?”

“Sure. She's Danica Robinson's frenemy, currently trending toward the enemy side.” Heather made it her business to keep up with all the latest celebrity goings-on.

“Exactly. Heidi's getting married at the Plaza in February.”

“So?”

“Soo . . . Danica also wants to get married at the Plaza. Before Heidi does.”

“Before?” Heather asked. “It's October. How can she possibly think we're going to pull a Plaza wedding together in less than four months?”

“She doesn't,” Alexis said in a wary voice. “She wants it in three.”

Chapter Three

T
HINGS THAT COULD ANNOY
a grown man:

His mother stopping by at seven a.m.

Things that could
kill
a grown man:

His mother stopping by at seven a.m. before he'd figured out how to gently get rid of last night's female companion.

Josh Tanner was still in bed, mentally running through his list of fail-proof methods for getting a woman out of his apartment in the kindest way possible, when he heard his front door open and close.

His eyes closed and he groaned audibly. There was only one person in his life who had a key to his apartment, and Sue Tanner had yet to fully absorb what Josh meant by
for emergencies only
.

The cute brunette came out of the bathroom, where she'd been borrowing Josh's toothbrush without asking, and gave him a puzzled look. “Is someone here?”

As if on cue, there was a cheerful knock on his bedroom door. “Joshy? Are you decent?”

Josh sighed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked unabashedly naked, and decidedly
not
decent, to the dresser.

“April, honey,” he said to the woman as he pulled out T-shirts and sweatpants for them both, “prepare yourself to meet my mother.”

“Your mother?” she squeaked in a high voice that sounded remarkably similar to the sound she'd made when she'd—

“I'm sorry,” he said, meaning it. For her sake and his own.

“Joshy?”

Good Lord.

“Mom. A minute?” he called.

April hurriedly took the clothes he handed her. They'd be huge on her tiny frame, but they didn't have time for her to wiggle back into her skintight dress.

He pulled a plain white tee over his head, tugged on the blue sweats, and after a glance to make sure that all of April's crucial bits were covered, opened the door.

“Oh hi, honey,” his mom said, all smiles. “I thought you might still be asleep.”

“Sure you did,” he said, automatically sidestepping to block his mom's attempt to peek into his bedroom.

Just because he'd learned to endure Sue Tanner's meddling didn't mean poor April had to.

But just as he was about to suggest his mother come back a bit later, he caught a waft of vanilla perfume as April crowded around him, already reaching for his mother's hand.

“Mrs. Tanner. It's so nice to meet you.”

Oh boy.

The only thing worse than a woman who didn't want to meet his mother was one who did.

He needed to get rid of both. Pronto.

But first . . . caffeine.

He bent to peck his chatty mother's cheek before moving into the kitchen to get some much-needed coffee.

“Well aren't you lovely, dear,” Sue was cooing to April. “You have just the prettiest eyes. I bet my son noticed those right off.”

Josh held back a snort of laughter as he reached for the canister where he kept his expensive Italian-roast coffee beans. Yeah. That had been it. Her
eyes
.

April had a fantastic body and a great smile. She'd found him after his band's set last night at the Irish pub around the corner, and after the requisite five-minute conversation to make sure she didn't set off any of his
crazy
warning bells, he'd brought her back to his place.

Truthfully, she wasn't the best lay he'd ever had. But that didn't mean she deserved an interrogation from his mother.

“Leave her alone, Mom,” he called.

His mother ignored him as she led a beaming April into the kitchen. “I'm so sorry to intrude on your morning like this!” his mother exclaimed.

Now Josh
did
let out a snort.

“Oh gosh, no problem at all,” April gushed. “I'm just disappointed you got here before I could make us all some breakfast.”

His mug clattered to the counter.
What now?

“Oh, aren't you sweet as sugar. Now you just let me take care of that. I'm here to make pancakes! Josh loves when I make pancakes.”

“You know what else I love?” he muttered loudly over the whir of his coffee grinder. “When you call first.”

“So you
don't
want my pancakes?” his mom said, finally shifting her attention away from April.

Josh considered as he turned to face the women and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the counter.

On one hand, he had two women eager to cook breakfast for him.

On the other hand . . .
he had two women eager to cook breakfast for him.

But what the hell was he
supposed
to do? It was hard enough figuring out how to convince one woman that leaving was her own idea. No way could he handle two at the same time.

Josh sighed. “Pancakes would be great, Mom. Perfect fuel for that conversation we're about to have about boundaries.”

But neither woman was paying attention to him anymore.

“So what do you do, April?” Sue asked, going to Josh's tiny pantry and pulling out the container of flour she'd stocked for him, again without his asking.

“I'm a marketing analyst,” April bubbled. Josh rubbed his temples. Good God, had her voice been that chirpy and annoying last night? “Technically, I'm based here, but I travel a lot.”

Sue made a
tsk
ing noise as she pushed Josh out of the way so she could place all of her dry ingredients on his counter. “Traveling's no good. Must be hard to maintain relationships.”

Josh turned around so April wouldn't see his grimace. “Coffee, ladies?” he asked.

“Always,” his mother said. “Your father insists on buying that cheap stuff whenever he does the shopping.”

“Is that why you're here unannounced?” Josh asked. “Because my coffee's better?”

“That, and I want a pancake. If I make them at home, your father will eat them, and if he eats them, he'll put syrup on them, and the diet I've put him on will be for nothing.”

“The diet you were doing . . . together?”

“You hold your tongue, son,” she said with a little wink.

His parents had both put on a bit of weight after turning sixty. Something Josh's dad had accepted just fine, but his mom was always on a “lose a dress size” mission.

At least until she got a pancake craving.

“Oh darn” came a quiet mutter from Josh's kitchen table.

Josh's one-night stand turned breakfast companion looked up from her cell phone with an apologetic look on her face.

“I'm so sorry, but I have to get going,” April said. “One of my coworkers has a stomach bug and needs me to cover a conference call for her.”

“No problem,” Josh said, just as his mother exclaimed, “Oh no!”

“Rain check?” April said, standing and coming over to touch his mom's arm.

Absolutely not.

He liked April. She was a nice woman. Cute. Smart. Likable.

But he'd made it perfectly clear last night that he was only looking for
last night. Only
last night.

His mother's unexpected appearance had bought her a reprieve for this morning, but no way was he looking to turn this into a thing. That wasn't his style—at least not anymore.

Josh was already braced to counteract whatever invitation to dinner his mother had at the ready, but to his surprise, Sue Tanner gave April a noncommittal pat on the back of the hand.

“It was just lovely meeting you, dear. Good luck with your meeting.”

“Thanks,” April said, gracious enough not to press any further. She turned toward Josh and opened her mouth to say something. Then, ­seemingly seeing there was nothing to say, simply glanced down at the oversized clothing he'd shoved at her. Probably debating leaving wearing something three times too big versus putting on last night's dress, which if he remembered correctly was flesh-toned, skintight, and probably not what she'd hoped to meet a guy's mother in.

“They're yours if you want them,” Josh said, jerking his chin at the clothes.

Her head snapped up. “Really?”

Josh smiled. “Really. Keep them.”

The light in her eyes dimmed just a little bit as
she put the pieces together that
keep them
had a very different meaning from
you can give them back later
.

There would be no later.

Not for April.

Not for any of the women that came by.

Five minutes later, April was teetering across his living room in her high heels and last night's dress, apparently deciding that a going-out dress at seven in the morning was a better option than wearing a one-night stand's T-shirt back home.

“It was really nice meeting you,” April said, giving Josh's mom a little wave.

“And you, honey,” his mom said with a wave, helping herself to the rest of Josh's French press.

And because he wasn't a complete ass, Josh walked April to the door, even though there wasn't much to be said at this point.

Even still, she hesitated briefly, giving him a chance to ask for her number.

He did not.

“See you around,” April said, giving him the same awkward wave she'd given his mother.

“Absolutely,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek.

He wouldn't be seeing her around, and they both knew it. Or if he did see her around, there wouldn't be a repeat of last night. They both knew that, too.

Josh let out a little sigh of relief as the door shut behind her. Bachelor status firmly in place, exactly as he wanted it.
Needed
it. Life was too short—way too short to sleep with only one person.

Did that make him an ass? Maybe. Did he care? Not particularly.

“Well. She seemed nice,” Sue said, holding her mug in both hands and taking a sip as she watched him over the rising steam.

“Thanks for not asking her to Christmas dinner,” he said, heading back into the kitchen to make another pot of coffee, since his mother was drinking faster than him.

“I wouldn't have done that,” she said, sounding scandalized.

“No? Just ask her to breakfast?”

“You don't feed them after you're done with them?”

“Mom.” He winced.

“Am I wrong?” she said. “This is the third one in as many months I've seen that's left just like that. Nothing but a good-bye.”

“Well, perhaps if you called once in a while, I could spare you that,” he said pointedly.

Sue sighed. “I know. I'm sorry. I just . . . sometimes I need to see you. You know?”

Josh's chest constricted, understanding immediately what his mother was saying as well as what she wasn't saying, and grateful for it.

He didn't need reminders about those days. Didn't need a reminder of just how fiercely he'd needed her and his father.

And yet he knew that he wasn't the only one with scars. Just like he was trying to put those days behind him, Sue Tanner was trying desperately to make sure they never came back.

And if that meant her stopping by, looking him over, all but checking his temperature . . . he could deal.

Josh glanced over, held his mother's blue-green gaze, her eyes the same color as his own. “Mom. I do know. I understand, and I don't mind. It's why you have the key to my apartment. Just . . . some warning next time, okay?”

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at him. “But if I call first, you might tell me not to come.”

“I'll just tell you to come over later. You know.
After
.”

“After you're done wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am-ing, you mean.”

“
Jesus
. Mom. Did you spike your coffee?”

His mother had never been the frail and dainty type, but she wasn't quite normally so bald in talking about his . . .
relationships
.

“I'm sorry if I'm embarrassing you, dear. Just once I'd like to come over here and see a girl that you actually
look
at.”

“What?” he grunted, scooping beans into his grinder.

Sue gestured with her mug in the direction of the front door. “That girl right there was beautiful and sweet, and I'm not even sure you noticed.”

“I noticed.”

Last night.

He'd noticed this morning, too, he just . . .

Didn't care.

His mom was shaking her head as she went to the fridge. “One day you're going to find a girl that you can't look away from and I hope I'm there to relish every minute.”

“Oh, I'm sure you will be,” he muttered.

“Josh Tanner, you're out of milk!”

“Yeah, well, I eat cereal most days,” he said, mentally adding milk to his grocery list. “It happens.”

“Well, I can't make pancakes without it. What about buttermilk?”

“Of course I keep buttermilk on hand. What thirty-three-year-old bachelor doesn't?”

His mom shut the fridge door. “Sarcasm's not going to get you pancakes.”