by Barbara Lohr
“You sure?”
“I hate that thing. It’s stupid.” Looking out the window she settled her chin on one hand. Harper couldn’t miss the tears trembling in the little girl’s eyes. She ran one hand softly over Bella’s dark hair and kissed her forehead.
“Let’s hit the road, okay?”
Bella nodded. As Harper climbed back into the driver’s seat, she heard Bella heave a sigh. Life seemed so difficult for her and Harper didn’t know what would cure that. Cameron said very little about the sessions with the child therapist on Saturday mornings. Harper didn’t want to ask.
Driving home after the attack, Harper realized she’d never expected to care so much about Bella. But she did.
Later, Harper wondered if the wheezing came from the pollen or the excitement. For Harper stress was more a trigger than dust or pollen. But Bella’s situation might be completely different. So frustrating. All around them azalea buds plumped. Soon the boulevards of Savannah would be a riot of pink and orange. But from then on they drove with the windows closed.
Bella’s school began to have outings, and Harper dutifully volunteered for a picnic in the park. Everything went fine until it came time to eat.
“Hey, you’re eating baby food!” one of the other little girls pointed out in a loud voice. They were all seated at picnic tables under the live oaks. Harper had brought Bella’s lunch in a small padded lunch pack.
Ms. Lucy, their teacher, quickly stepped in, but the damage had been done. Bella pushed her plate aside and buried her face in her arms. Harper’s heart broke. When the other children ran screaming toward the slide, Bella stayed put, despite Ms. Lucy’s attempts to make up for the mean comment.
Harper just had to do something about Bella’s eating. If she brought it up with Cameron, would he be insulted? He took things so personally sometimes. Someone had to take this on so Bella didn’t become the odd kid out because of her eating habits.
After putting Bella to bed that night, Harper zipped upstairs and tore open her art supplies. Her design work had always been an outlet but it had been a while. The park had filled her with ideas that day, before it all went downhill. Now she sat at the drafting table and sketched leaf patterns until they just clicked. When she glanced outside, a faint light hit the garden from the long porch outside Cameron’s room.
Some nights she smelled the distinct aroma of a cigar. Did he sit on that long porch in the darkness? His smoking struck her as elegant and illicit. A cold shiver moved through her when she pictured Cameron lounging in a rattan chair like the ones outside Bella’s room. He’d probably have one ankle balanced rakishly on the other knee as he puffed on the fragrant cigar…a true southern gentleman. She’d never heard Kimmy’s voice out on the porch. Any time they spent together was at her house, or so Harper assumed.
Her eyes were drawn to the light. What was Cameron thinking as he sat there alone? Her imagination made her shift on the stool in her third floor garret, as she laughingly called her room. That night, his light stayed on almost as long as hers and she did not go to bed until way past midnight.
But she could not sleep.
Since the first dinner with Kimmy, Harper hadn’t been alone with Cameron. Fine with her, or so she told herself. So it was a surprise one Friday evening when she was dashing out the door to have a drink with Adam and Cameron waylaid her, stepping out of the library. “Could you spare a minute?”
“Sure.” She felt foolishly glad that she was wearing new skinny jeans and her hot knee-high boots.
Usually Cameron had that southern way of circling the subject, so very different from the direct Midwest approach. But not that night. “Do you have plans for the weekend?” He was nipping his full bottom lip, so distracting.
“Um, could I ask why?”
“Well, here’s the thing…” Had she ever seen him this uncomfortable? “There’s an event tomorrow night. Command performance and Kimmy’s sick.”
Harper’s stomach took a dive. The kind of gala Cameron would attend with Kimmy was definitely way out of her league.
“And I’ll pay extra for the night—”
She jerked back. Did the man think he could buy anything?
Cameron was unbelievably cute when he blushed. “Sorry, Harper. This isn’t coming out right. I need an escort for this event. Well, not really an escort…”
Harper almost was enjoying his discomfort.
“I mean, I need an attractive woman to go with me to the Telfair Ball, make polite conversation, that kind of thing.” By this time, his cheeks were the color of the brocade drapes. “Connie turned me down.”
They chuckled together. So he thought she was attractive?
“What’s the dress code?”
“Formal. My credit cards are at your disposal.”
She worked her heel against the marble floor, wishing she’d escaped earlier. But he looked so darned desperate. “Don’t want your credit cards, but thank you. You’re on.”
“Bless the lord.” He slumped against the doorframe. “Thank you, Harper.”
“Don’t mention it.”
His eyes had slid to her boots.
“What, you don’t like them?”
“Oh, no. I’ve always liked them.”
Ah, huh. His cheeks were bright red when she bounded out the door and down the steps. She felt his eyes hot on her back. Heart pounding, she climbed into Adam’s pickup. Grabbing her inhaler, she sucked in some deep breaths.
“So I make you that nervous?” Pulling away from the curb, Adam shot her a sly grin.
“Smart aleck.” The hot and cold chills whipping through her body made Harper wonder if the dreaded early menopause her mother complained about could hit a girl in her twenties. She gave Adam the news about the gala.
“The Telfair Ball? You are coming up in the world.”
Harper hardly heard Adam’s teasing. Where could she get a dress?
“And you’re going to wear?” Her friend was a mind reader.
For the rest of the night, they strategized. Having Adam’s input helped calm the plague of locusts circling in Harper’s stomach. When she was in college, she’d done some modeling during fashion week. Sarah Lynn Gilbert had charge of the gowns, although Harper hadn’t seen her since graduation. She planned to be at the college early in the morning to wheedle a dress from the collection. Of course, Adam would do her hair.
“This whole gala thing scares the crap out of me, okay?” By that time, they were both on their second Cosmo.
“Not to worry. Come to my salon at four tomorrow. I’ll juggle my schedule. Easy, peasy.”
“I really appreciate this, Adam.”
“Anything for you and Mr. Wonderful.”
“Oh, he isn’t—”
“Look, I saw him staring after you tonight. Trust me, he was not looking fatherly. He may be fooling himself but I didn’t just fall off the stupid truck. That boy is into you.”
“He’s dating someone. And he’s old.”
Adam hooted. “Kimmy Carrington is a mannequin, not a woman. And twenty-nine’s too old for you?”
“Twenty-nine?” Strangely unsettling.
“Told you. I do my homework.”
While Adam continued with his foolishness, Harper’s mind galloped on to the gazillion other things on her list before tomorrow night. In Savannah, the Telfair Ball was one of the social events of the year. She’d seen the pictures plastered in the paper and online but never imagined she would ever actually attend.
How surreal, almost like Cinderella.
But wait. Did that make Cameron her prince?
That early menopause stuff or whatever else caused these hot flashes started again. She opened her window but that didn’t help her breathing. Once home, she headed straight for the refrigerator and opened the door. The frigid air blasted her body until she shivered. Her thoughts still could have melted the ice cubes.
Chapter 11
The look in Cameron’s eyes as Harper came down the stairs Saturday night
made her clutch the banister. Wouldn’t be cool to do a face plant with him. Again. Legs trembling, she carefully picked her way down the Oriental runner in her strappy sandals. Over her arm was a black shawl, and her free hand clutched the tiny black file bag she’d had since her first prom. The borrowed citrus green gown fell softly from one shoulder. She loved the way the fabric moved on her body. Adam pointed out that the amber undertones caught the highlights of her curls when she brought the dress to his salon for approval. That one hour searching in the costume vault with Sarah Lynn had been totally worth it.
“Well, I declare.” Cameron’s dropped jaw unnerved her.
“So I look that bad, huh?”
His lids lowered. “No, darlin’. You look that good.”
Oh, mercy.
The hand he offered kept her from stumbling from that last riser. Thank goodness she’d remembered to tuck her inhaler in her handbag. She would definitely need it tonight if he kept looking at her like that. Ruggedly handsome but elegant, Cameron took her breath away in that tux. The mauve bowtie? Perfect and so him.
Bella drifted from the kitchen, followed by Connie.
“You look beautiful, Harper,” Bella whispered.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
“One handsome couple, I would say.” Connie wiped her hands on a towel.
What the heck?
Cameron still stared.
“Which car are we taking?” Harper struggled to keep her tone business-like.
“Jack is our chauffeur this evening.” Whisking the black shawl from her hands, Cameron draped it over her shoulders. One touch sent fire coursing over her skin.
Long evening ahead and this had to stop. She moved briskly through the open front door.
Outside, the Bentley sat waiting and Jack pulled open the rear door. A cool February breeze skimmed through the treetops as she sank into the soft leather in the backseat.
“Evening, Jack,” she said.
He threw her a wink in the rearview mirror. “Evening, Miss Kirkpatrick.”
“Oh, please, Jack. Just Harper.” She fussed with her shawl.
Closing the door behind him, Cameron overheard. “What’s this? You would never be just Harper. Don’t you agree, Jack?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
The car pulled away from the curb, and Harper wouldn’t have been surprised to hear the clatter of horses’ hooves or see a glint of pixie dust. Jack turned onto Victory Drive, and they glided through the gathering darkness. Certainly this was a dream. Soon, she’d wake up and drag herself downstairs for coffee. She wasn’t really going to the Telfair Ball, for cripe’s sake, with a man who rocked that black tuxedo.
Jack maneuvered smoothly through the traffic and they were soon on Bull Street. Coffee shops, salons, and historic churches spun past. How many times had she met friends at the Foxy Loxy Cafe for a brownie sundae when she was a student? Four years ago, she never could have imagined this happening to her. Squired to a ball by one of Savannah’s most eligible bachelors? At least, that’s what Adam had told her.
Back then, she’d been a sophomore in college and all things were possible. Billy Colton came into her life that year and she thought he was her forever man. What a sobering thought. Did she wish she were with Billy tonight? The mental picture wouldn’t come into focus.
Cameron and Jack were talking sports. She tuned them out. The only thing she heard was the thudding of her heart while she arm-wrestled with her memories. She could hear Adam’s voice as surely as if he were sitting here. “Billy belongs to your past.” The Bentley passed Forsyth Park and soon they were deep in the heart of the historic district.
Her anxiety spiked while Jack maneuvered the Bentley around the succession of squares that dotted Bull Street. In the darkness the squares took on fairy-tale magic. Surely this couldn’t really be happening. When they finally reached Telfair Square, Jack pulled up in front of the historic Telfair Academy. The Jepson Center, kitty-corner and part of the Telfair holdings, had been hosting a collection from the Uffizi in Florence, striking the Renaissance theme for this evening. Dear Adam had filled her ear with details while he worked on her hair that afternoon.
Thank goodness she’d also had a quick conversation with McKenna, who’d advised her to “Just have fun tonight.”
Sure. Like that was an option.
“Harper, pretend you’re one of the women in those Renaissance paintings— elusive and mysterious.” McKenna’s voice had held a note of mischief.
“All right. I’ll try.”
“Be a babe.” Her sister had laughed. “A ladylike treasure but a babe underneath.”
Harper took a deep breath as Jack pulled over to the curb and jumped out.
But Cameron was ahead of him. Quickly circling the car, he opened her door and extended one hand. “M’lady.”
“Thank you, C-Cameron.” Just saying his name made her woozy, but the cool air slapped some sense into her. Stepping out, Harper dropped his hand as soon as she got her bearings. The uneven sidewalks in the historic district could prove dangerous but she’d risk it. Safer than these feelings rioting through her body.
“Y’all have a good time now, you hear?” Jack’s voice followed them up the stairs.
Hand on her elbow, Cameron turned. “Thank you, Jack. I’ll let you know when your services are needed further.”
“I’ve always loved this old building,” she murmured as Cameron led her past the statuary and through the stately pillars. “Neoclassical Regency architecture.”
He laughed in surprise. “Spoken like a true student.”
She flushed. “You don’t get through design school without knowing the local architecture.”
“Fascinating, isn’t it?”
For the first time she wondered about his work. “You love the history of Savannah, don’t you? After all you grew up with it.”
Cameron shrugged. “Not really.”
They’d entered the building and a crush of people swallowed them, ending their conversation. Cameron returned greetings as they edged down the main hallway toward the stairs leading up to the Rotunda. She’d never been this close to him, well, except for the night she fell into his arms in the Catwoman suit. His cologne might be subtly understated, but it hit her like a brick.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” he murmured, voice warm on her neck.
“Part of the job, right?”
“Not really.”
You got that right, Baby Blues.
Excited voices echoed off the paintings of the permanent collection. She pushed back her hair with a shaking hand. Adam had spritzed almost half a can of hair spray to subdue the coppery brown waves that fell past her shoulders. Still, her hair resisted. In the Rotunda, waiters circulated with trays of appetizers and flutes of champagne. Cameron deftly scooped up two glasses and handed her one.
While they sipped, Cameron introduced her around until her head spun with names. Amazing how he managed to intersperse business with his quick greetings. After quickly emptying her first champagne split, she decided to slow down. Falling flat on her face tonight was not an option.
Her job depended on it. So did her self-esteem.
“My, oh, my, and who would this lady be?” With his dark hair and arresting eyes, the handsome guy who’d approached them could be on the cover of GQ magazine.
“Kimmy is indisposed, Mallory. May I introduce you to Harper Kirkpatrick? Harper is Bella’s nanny.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Mallory murmured, bending over her hand. “Bella is a lucky girl.”
Dazed, Harper mumbled something in response. Adam would never believe this. She was bookended by male southern glory. The man was hot but not as attractive as Cameron—at least, not to her. Remembering her sister McKenna’s advice, she wondered if she was looking mysterious enough.
“Mallory is CEO of Thornton Enterprises. One of their holdings is a string of high end jewelry salons.” Cameron exchanged a smile with his pal. “In fact, my guess is you’ve offe
red more than one contribution for our bidding pleasure this evening.”
The auction items were showcased in one of the side galleries. And although they’d rushed through that room, Harper had been awed by the fabulous display, everything from paintings to Oriental rugs and trips to faraway places.
Mallory laughed. “If you like emeralds, I expect to see your paddle in the air. A get-well gift for Kimmy?”
“Maybe.”
Emeralds for Kimmy…as in an engagement ring? Harper fought to squelch the feelings twisting her stomach so tight she gasped. Both men turned. She patted her chest. “Excuse me. The champagne.”
“So sorry to hear of your separation, Mallory,” Cameron continued. “I didn’t know Rhonda well.”
“Let’s call it what it is, Cameron. A divorce.” Mallory’s voice dropped and so did his eyes.
“Then, indeed, you have my condolences.”
“I’m sure you understand my awkward position. Being thrown back into the Savannah social scene is like being fed to the lions.”
“I know the feeling.”
Mallory’s head jerked up. “Cameron, I am so sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”
Cameron was brushing aside the apology when across the room, a stately brunette beckoned to Mallory. Harper knew an irritated woman when she saw one.
“Seems I’m being called to duty.” Mallory upended his drink. “A pleasure to meet you, Harper.”
Cameron followed his friend with sad eyes. “Poor guy. Single men in this town? Open season takes on a whole new meaning. He’d better team up with someone fast or the single women will tear into him.”
Was that what he’d done with Kimmy? Had he “teamed up” as a safety measure?
Somehow the thought pleased her.
“I didn’t see him at your party.” Oh, good grief. She’d never mentioned she was Catwoman.
A sly smile played along Cameron’s lips. Had he known all along? “No, he wasn’t at the bachelor party. Travels a lot on business and was out of town. Entirely his loss. So...you might be interested?”
“Of course not.” As if she could ever date a man like Mallory Thornton.
“Let me know if that changes. The way you looked in those boots last night, I’m sure you don’t lack for dates.”