DREAMING OF YOU GO PL

by Barbara Freethy

  At least she didn't have a wedding this weekend. She'd have a chance to relax, catch her breath, and, of course, figure out what to do with the cupids.

  She smiled to herself as Barrett Fox's image flashed through her head. He'd looked so stunned, bewildered that he'd somehow been attacked by a statue—a statue he probably didn't even understand.

  But she doubted he needed to be hit by Cupid's arrow to find love. Even covered in dust, the man had been impossibly handsome: with thick, wavy hair, a square, purposeful, masculine face, and penetrating green eyes. Those eyes could certainly burn with anger. She wondered what else they could burn with.

  Shaking her head at that foolish thought, she focused on the traffic and her upcoming pitch to Olivia Hunt. The woman had invited her to her husband's birthday party, because she'd wanted Kate to see their style and to meet her husband and daughter, Candice, the bride-to-be. She hoped the groom-to-be would also be there, as she liked to meet both the bride and the groom. It was part of her job to be the bridge between opposing styles, which happened fairly frequently between brides and grooms, and with Olivia Hunt in the mix, there would be a strong maternal figure in the plans as well.

  While landing the wedding could make her year, sometimes the high-society brides were the most difficult to work with, not that bridezillas didn't come from every economic class.

  Traffic sped up as she got to the end of the bridge, and it took only a few more minutes to reach the Sausalito exit. The Hunts' house was located in one of the steep hills overlooking the San Francisco Bay, but the Hunts had a parking valet who grabbed her car at the end of the drive, while another man drove her up to the main house in a golf cart.

  The front door was opened by a maid, who took her coat and purse while a waitress offered her a glass of champagne. Very efficient, she thought, her experienced eye taking in the neatly attired help and their quiet, unobtrusive manner. The Hunts obviously worked with party planners and caterers on a regular basis, which made her wonder why they were even talking to her. She knew one of her other brides had recommended her to Olivia, but still…the Hunts could have their pick of full-service firms. It wasn't going to be easy to compete, but she would give it her best shot.

  After receiving a glass of champagne, she wandered into the living room, pausing by the bay windows to take in the spectacular view of San Francisco at twilight, the lights on the Bay Bridge, the eerie presence of the hulking Alcatraz prison sitting in the middle of the bay.

  Turning away from the windows, she searched the crowd for Olivia Hunt, but it wasn't the bride's mother who caught her eye; it was the tall, dark-haired man in a light-gray Armani suit.

  No way!

  Barrett Fox was here? What were the odds of that?

  Maybe actually not that long. Fox Management was a huge company, and apparently Barrett ran it. Of course he'd know the Hunts. They were all in the same league.

  Frowning, she just hoped he wouldn't do anything to mar her chances of winning the job. She hadn't made the best first impression.

  She couldn't help noticing that Barrett had not only changed his suit, he'd also changed his attitude. He looked much happier now than he had in her office building. There was a smile on his face as he leaned in to hear what a beautiful brunette had to tell him.

  Was that his girlfriend?

  Although there was more than one woman in the group surrounding him, so who knew? He was clearly very popular. She didn't notice a ring on his finger. Did that mean he was single? Or he didn't like jewelry? Considering the expensive watch on his wrist, she was going to pick single.

  But why? He would certainly check off a lot of boxes for most women.

  As his gaze moved in her direction, she instinctively tried to hide behind a waiter, but the man moved away to serve canapes to another group, and she found herself looking straight into Barrett's surprised green eyes. A speculative expression spread across his face. He was probably wondering how she fit in to this party of San Francisco elites.

  "Miss Marlow?"

  She jumped as a woman put a hand on her arm. Turning, she saw the sophisticated and attractive Olivia Hunt, who looked like she was closer to forty than late fifties. Her copper-colored hair was pulled back at her nape, setting off beautiful diamond earrings that sparkled in the light. Her brown eyes were sharp and assessing.

  "Mrs. Hunt," she said. "Thank you so much for including me. It's a lovely party."

  "I'm so glad you were able to come. Candice will be here soon. She and her fiancé, Anthony, are eager to speak to you."

  "And I'm looking forward to meeting them." She paused, knowing she was probably about to be too direct, but it wasn't in her nature not to say what was on her mind. "I appreciate the opportunity to pitch my services. You obviously have a lot of connections with party planners. I'm wondering why you're interested in my small firm."

  "Well, as you know, we attended Danielle Wetherington's wedding last year, and Candice loved everything you did for Danielle. It was beautiful, charming, and personal." Olivia smiled. "My daughter thinks my party planners are more geared to sophisticated and older soirees, which isn't really true, but it is Candice's wedding, and she needs to have a planner she can relate to. I would have been more comfortable using one of my friends, but I'm interested in what you have to offer. Of course, this is just the beginning of several conversations, I'm sure. I'm hoping tonight will give you somewhat of an idea of what kind of party I enjoy."

  "I appreciate the opportunity and your candor."

  Olivia gave a soft laugh. "And I appreciate yours. Most people don't ask me why I might want to hire them. They're just happy to be in the room."

  "I am happy to be in the room and in the running, but I do know that the relationship between the wedding planner and the bride and groom and extended family needs to be in sync. That's when the magic happens."

  "Well, that's what we're looking for—magic. Please help yourself to the buffet, mingle, enjoy yourself. When Candice arrives, I'll send her in your direction."

  "Thanks." As Olivia moved away, she couldn't help noting that Barrett was no longer in the living room. With any luck, he'd only stopped in to the party for a drink.

  She moved into the dining room, noting the glistening china, silver, and crystal, and all the other little party details, so that she could get a sense of what Olivia Hunt liked. Everything was certainly beautiful, impeccable, and very sophisticated.

  But what she really needed to know was how Candice's taste differed from her mother's. She was looking forward to hearing from the bride herself.

  But as the minutes passed, and there was no sign of Candice or her groom, her party smile began to feel a little forced. It was hard to mingle. Most everyone seemed to know each other, and their circles of conversation felt very closed off. Needing some air, she made her way into the gardens, which offered a patio and fire pit where some younger guests were sitting on couches, sipping champagne and nibbling on appetizers.

  The house was built into the hillside, and one garden descended into another. She headed down the stairs to the lowest level, which still offered the same amazing view of the San Francisco city lights. Resting her arms on the railing, she took in a deep breath and let the magical view wash over her. This was the view Candice had grown up with or at least was familiar with. Maybe there was inspiration to be found in the lights.

  "Should I run for cover or did you come unarmed?" a voice drawled mockingly from the shadows.

  She whirled around at the sound of Barrett's voice. "I thought you'd left the party."

  "And I was wondering why you were here," he said, moving into the light.

  "Candice Hunt is considering using my services for her wedding."

  "Ah, that explains it."

  "Why? You don't think I could just be a guest?" she challenged.

  "I've been coming to the Hunts' parties for years. It's always the same crowd. That's why I was surprised to see you—a new face."

  "And one you'
ve taken an instant dislike to."

  "It's not your face that bothers me."

  "Just my statues."

  "Yes. Did you make arrangements to move them?"

  "I will get them out of there by Monday."

  "Is someone really using those statues at their wedding? Are they part of some strange wedding tradition, or just an exercise in bad taste?" he asked, joining her at the railing.

  "They were supposed to be six inches, not six feet. They were going to be part of a table centerpiece. But there was a misprint."

  "Why didn't you send them back?"

  "Because the bride suddenly decided that they'd make a great receiving line for her wedding walk into her reception—like a line of soldier cupids guarding their love."

  He shook his head in bemusement. "That's…crazy. I predict that couple will be divorced within two years."

  "Why would you say that? You don't even know them."

  "No man worth his salt would allow his bride to make a fool of him. That poor guy will suddenly wake up and realize he's been taken for a fool."

  "I don't think the groom has a problem with the cupid statues. He also adores his bride and wants to make her happy. Predicting a divorce based on some wedding décor is ridiculous."

  He shrugged. "I stand by my prediction."

  She frowned at the cynical edge in his voice. "I assume you're not married."

  "Not anymore."

  She was surprised. "Oh, I didn't realize…"

  "That I'd made it down the aisle? Yes, I did, and that wedding was the most important thing to my fiancée. She spent almost a year planning every last detail, from the swan ice sculptures to the horse-drawn carriage and the rose-petal path to the altar. Unfortunately, it turned out that the wedding was really all she wanted. The marriage could never live up to the hype of that day. We were divorced within fifteen months. All that money her parents spent went down the drain. And it was a lot of money."

  "I'm sorry that happened to you." She heard a hint of pain behind the bitter words. "But a big, beautiful wedding doesn't always lead to divorce. Some people get married at the courthouse and don't last out the year. It's about the people, not the party."

  "Sometimes. But weddings can get out of hand very easily and people lose track of what's important."

  "Well, the brides and grooms I've worked with are very happy in their marriages."

  "And how long have you been in business?"

  "Four years."

  He smiled, as he dug his hands into his pockets. "Let's see where you are in ten."

  She frowned at his words. "I think I'll be just fine."

  "But will your happy couples still be happy?"

  "I hope so. But if they're not, it won't be because of the wedding." She paused. "If you get invited to Candice's wedding, you should say no. No one likes a downer on their special day."

  "I'm just a realist."

  "I'm a realist and a romantic."

  "You can't be both."

  "I think I can."

  The air bristled between them, but it wasn't so much anger as tension. There was something about this man that made her nervous and irritated and tingly—all at the same time. But she needed to find a way to calm things down. He was her landlord and a fellow tenant. They needed to get along.

  "Miss Marlow—Kate?" Candice interrupted, as she moved toward them, a studious-looking man at her side. "I've been looking all over for you. This is my fiancé, Anthony."

  "It's nice to meet you, Anthony," she said, relieved by the interruption.

  "Barrett," Candice said, surprise on her face, as Barrett stepped into view. "I didn't realize you were here. You haven't come to one of Mother's parties in a long time. How are you?"

  "I'm fine."

  "You remember Anthony?"

  "Yes, of course," he said, shaking the other man's hand. "Congrats on your engagement."

  Candice gave her fiancé a quick smile before she said, "We're so excited. We haven't officially set the date, because we haven't picked a venue yet, but it will be sometime next year. We want to make sure that David can be there. He thinks he'll have a better idea in another month or so. Of course, you'll get an invitation. You're one of David's best friends."

  David was Candice's older brother and currently on deployment with the Marines. Knowing that David and Barrett were friends put a pit in her stomach. She was beginning to realize that Barrett was very entangled with the Hunts. That was a complication she didn't need.

  "I'd love to come to your wedding," Barrett said, giving her a pointed look. "Although, some people have suggested I'm not the best wedding guest these days."

  She really needed to start thinking a bit more before she opened her mouth.

  "Oh, I don't care about your cynical view of love," Candice proclaimed. "I know that Anthony and I have the real deal. We're going to be happy forever."

  Barrett didn't refute her words, just stepped forward and gave her a hug. "I hope that's true. I'll let you all talk weddings." He nodded to Anthony. "Good luck."

  Anthony smiled. "I've got Candice; that's all the luck I need."

  "I shouldn't have brought up the wedding," Candice said, an odd look in her eyes, as her gaze followed Barrett's departure. "I hit a nerve."

  "With Barrett?" she asked.

  "He's a wonderful guy, but he had a hellish marriage, and things started to go bad as soon as he and his fiancée began planning the wedding. It was a beautiful event, but Barrett hates weddings now." She turned to Anthony. "That's not going to happen to us. We won't let the wedding get out of hand."

  "I hope not," Anthony said. "But your mother is involved, so…"

  She could hear the note of worry in Anthony's voice and wondered if Olivia would be trouble. Probably. She was definitely a woman who knew what she wanted and that was perfection.

  "My mother may be involved, but it's our day." Candice looked back at Kate. "You're going to have to keep my mom in check. I can never say no to her. She always wears me down. So, you will have to help me."

  "Of course." She was beginning to wonder what she was getting herself into. "If you decide to hire me, I will do my best to make sure your day is exactly the way you want it."

  "Which is why I want you," Candice said. "But we're going to have to play along with my mother's interview process, so she thinks I'm keeping an open mind. She's going to make demands, and you're going to have to meet a lot of them, because she's paying. She would much prefer to hire one of her friends, but I want this wedding to be mine, not hers."

  "I understand."

  "Good." Candice paused, tilting her head to the right. "How do you know Barrett? And did we interrupt something…down here on this quiet, dark patio?"

  "No, not at all," she said hastily, not caring for the speculative gleam in Candice's eyes. "I was getting some air, and he had the same idea. I actually just met him earlier today."

  "He's a great guy…in case you were wondering."

  "Good to know, but I wasn't wondering," she said firmly.

  "You'd be the first single woman to make that statement," Candice said with a short laugh. "Barrett is a hit with the ladies."

  She decided to ignore that. "Let's talk about your wedding…"

  * * *

  After a busy weekend getting her cupid statues moved into storage and catching up on paperwork, Kate headed into the office Monday afternoon after having spent the morning listening to wedding bands with one of her brides. The downstairs office door was closed, but she could hear hammering and voices. Apparently, Barrett had already started his remodel.

  After he'd left her at the party, she hadn't seen him again, but she had to admit that he'd crossed her mind more than a few times. Hopefully, he'd appreciated finding his office empty of cupids when he arrived. That should move their bad start into at least neutral territory. Although, she wasn't thrilled with the dust or the noise. She had a bride coming by later in the day, and it wasn't exactly the ambiance she was going for. But she had
no say about it. She certainly couldn't complain to the landlord.

  The noise was a bit more muffled when she entered her office suite and closed the door, but it wasn't exactly quiet. "Has it been this bad all day?" she asked Shari.

  "Pretty much. What are they doing downstairs?"

  "I have no idea. But it sounds like they're moving walls. I can't imagine why. The office space was perfectly fine as it was."

  "Apparently, not for a Fox," Shari said dryly. "Did you find any good bands?"

  "No. And, for the record, the Devlin Sisters are not a pop group; they play heavy metal and would be better for a rave than a wedding reception. Do we have any aspirin?"

  "Who would think a group called the Devlin Sisters would play heavy metal?" Shari asked in amazement, grabbing a bottle out of her desk and tossing it to her. "They sounded harmless."

  "Believe me, they weren't. Although, they said they toned down for weddings. I can't imagine what their usual routine is. The little I saw included smashing a guitar over a drum set."

  Shari laughed. "I thought you were going to start sending the brides out on their own to listen to bands."

  "Thank goodness I didn't. Janine Hampton, Carol's mom, almost had heart failure when she saw the Devlin Sisters. If she'd been on her own, they might have had to call 911."

  "Janine and her mother tend to overreact to most things."

  "True. How was Tahoe?"

  "Beautiful…" Shari winced at a sudden crash down below. "And more peaceful than here. How was the Hunts' party?"

  "It was…interesting."

  "Like fall in the pond or dump wine down your dress or run into a hot guy…interesting?"

  She made a face at her. "When have any of those things happened?"

  "Well, let's see, you fell into the wading pool at the Jacksons' engagement party."

  "I was pushed by their six-year-old twins."

  "And you dumped wine, not down your dress, but down Mrs. Bradington's white gown at her elegant soiree."

  "Her drunken husband grabbed the bottle out of my hand, and he spilled the wine."

  "And—"

  "Stop already. The last thing I want to do is remember every embarrassing incident that has happened in the last few years. Besides, none of those things happened at the Hunts' party."