by Tharp, Emma
“I know it is. Do you need anything from me before I shower and change?” I ask.
“No. Spencer and I have it all under control.”
I nod. “Good. I’ll be out soon. The guests should be arriving in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll get back to work,” she says before she makes her way back to the kitchen.
It’s impossible not to watch her walk away. Her legs are smooth and long, leading up to her perfect peach-shaped ass. I sigh to myself and go to my bedroom. I have to figure out a way to get myself in check. My ultra-caveman behavior with Spencer is not acceptable. The effect this woman has on me hasn’t changed one bit since high school. That is not part of the plan.
Ten
Liza
“Can you step away from the kitchen for a few minutes? There are some people I’d like you to meet,” Donovan asks.
The party is in full swing and everyone is up and mingling after the meal. “Sure. I just have to finish arranging the tarts on a tray.”
“I can do that.” Spencer steps back into the kitchen with his hands loaded up with dirty dishes that he sets in the sink.
“That’d be great. And then you’re free to go, Spencer. I can finish cleaning up,” I tell him.
“Thanks for helping out, Spencer,” Donovan says, reaching out for Spencer’s hand to shake it.
This time when they shake, Donovan doesn’t look like he’d like to kill Spencer. I’m not sure what caused Donovan to have such a strong reaction to my best friend, but I’m glad to see that his attitude toward him has changed.
“No problem. You have a beautiful home.” Spencer smiles at Donovan and then gets to work on the tarts.
“I appreciate that.” Donovan gives Spencer’s shoulder a pat.
“I’ll call you in the morning,” I tell Spencer.
Donovan puts his hand on my lower back and guides me to the living room where the partygoers are mingling. It’s a simple gesture, only meant casually to show me where we’re going, but I can’t ignore the heat and tingles up my spine his touch elicits. It’s unsettling how much his attention is affecting me. I haven’t been lucky in relationships. Like I can’t seem to find the right guy at the right time. Yet here I am, working for my high school buddy and feeling things I haven’t felt in a very long time. My heart seems to stutter to life when I’m around Donovan, and when I think about him—which is happening a little too often for my liking.
He’s been sweet, sending me random text messages about how tasty he thinks my food is, and occasional questions about the party, but always personalized with I know it’s going to be an amazing party because you’re planning it, and You’ll see. Everyone is going to love your food so much that your schedule is going to fill up faster than you can keep up. Once he even told me that he couldn’t wait to see me again. But I have to remember he’s only helping me out so I can pay back the loan he gave me. That’s all.
He might’ve had a crush on me in high school, but I don’t think he does anymore. The way Donovan looked at me back then, like he’d move heaven and earth for me, it was clear there were feelings there. But now, he’s a successful businessman, kind and handsome. I’m sure he has a beautiful, sophisticated girlfriend in the wings somewhere. Although, at the dinner tonight, he didn’t seem to be paying special attention to anyone in particular. And as much as I didn’t want to, I was checking.
I bite my lip and wipe my hands on my apron. It feels like I’m out of my league here with all of Donovan’s successful friends and family. Yet, he wants to introduce me to people, and for that, I am grateful.
We step into the living room and make our way to Giselle, his sister. She’s a couple of years older than Donovan and me, but I remember her from high school.
“Giselle, do you remember Liza Dooley?” Donovan asks.
She’s holding a champagne flute, which she sets on an end table so she can take my hand in hers. She’s a little taller than me, thin and sophisticated. Her dark hair is swept up in a chignon and her dress fits so well, it has to be a designer. It’s navy with princess seams, cap sleeves, and a sleek waistline as if it were custom-made to shape and accent her femininity. “Of course, I remember you. I spent many fun evenings at your parties.”
“Oh, yes. My get-togethers were quite notorious.” I grin at her and her smile back to me is warm and welcoming.
“Didn’t Liza do a wonderful job tonight with the party?” Donovan asks.
Giselle leans in and lowers her voice. “I’m in heaven and honestly surprised I haven’t popped a button on my dress. I overindulged a little tonight. Everything tasted so good.”
Pride blooms in my chest. “I’m glad you enjoyed everything.”
“More than enjoyed. I’m going to get your contact information from Donovan for my next get-together. And I’ll pass it along at the firm. Everyone is always looking for a great caterer.”
“That’d be wonderful. Thank you,” I tell her.
“I knew you’d be pleased. Her food’s the best I’ve had from any caterer in the city,” Donovan brags.
My breath hitches in my throat. His compliment takes me by surprise, but I bask in the heat of the moment. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So, sis, I told you that you could bring a date tonight…” Donovan takes a sip of his beer.
Giselle rolls her eyes at Donovan. “You know I date once a year. I don’t have time otherwise.”
Once a year? She’s a beautiful woman. Why wouldn’t she date more regularly? It doesn’t make sense. I’m sure there’s a story there.
The sound of someone clinking their glass draws our attention to the other side of the room.
It’s Garrett, Donovan’s older brother. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”
The room gets quiet and someone turns the soft music that was playing all the way down.
“Thank you all for being here, and, Donovan, thanks for the invite.” Garrett takes the hand of the woman standing next to him. “He helped me plan this evening. I wanted all the people I love and care about to be here for this.”
The woman next to Garrett gasps. “What are you doing, Garrett?” she asks.
“It’s a surprise,” he tells her and turns his attention back to the group. “Camille and I have worked together for years, and last year, we fell in love.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. Taking one knee in front of her, he grabs her hand. The way he looks at her, with pure adoration and love, is the way that I hope someone looks at me one day. Camille’s hand flies to her chest. “Camille, I don’t want to waste anymore time. You mean the world to me and I want to spend forever with you. Please make me the happiest man alive and tell me you’ll marry me.”
Tears fall down Camille’s cheeks as she nods. “Yes.”
Everyone in the room claps. Garrett stands, slides the ring on her finger, and takes Camille in his arms.
Even from my vantage point all the way across the room, I can see how massive the stone is on her ring. It shines and picks up all the light in the room, sending sparkles across the far wall.
My heart warms for Garrett and Camille. What a beautiful proposal.
“Wow.” I lean over to Donovan. “That was so romantic.”
He looks at me, his dark eyes shining. “It was, wasn’t it? He’s been trying to plan a grand gesture for months now. I told him to keep it simple. It looks like Camille is pleased. Let’s go congratulate them.”
“Sure.” We make our way to the newly engaged couple and wait for a gentleman to finish talking to them.
When it's our turn to speak with Garrett and Camille, Donovan gives Garrett a hearty handshake and Camille a big hug. "Congrats, guys! I'm so happy for the two of you. I wanted to introduce you to Liza Dooley. Garrett, you might recognize her from high school. She was the caterer tonight. Wasn't everything excellent?" His voice is full of enthusiasm.
"Your food is amazing," Camille exclaims, her eyes still sparkling with post-engagement excitement.
"Congratulations to you both. I'm happy that I could be a part of your special evening," I tell them, truly happy and a bit envious of their obvious affection for each other. Every woman wants a man to look at her the way Garrett is gushing over Camille.
"I do hope you have business cards with you. We can pass them out at the office and to colleagues," Garrett says.
"I did bring some. That would be the nicest compliment you could give me, to refer someone," I say. Donovan might be right. This party could definitely be the springboard I need to start filling my schedule.
We excuse ourselves and let others congratulate Garrett and Camille.
Donovan takes me around to other partygoers, praising me and bragging about me. I pass my card out to several people, and before I know it the party is nearing its end. Donovan bids farewell to his last guest and he joins me in the kitchen where I am cleaning up.
Tugging off his tie, Donovan throws it on the counter and loosens his top buttons. "Let me help." He picks up the towel and begins drying dishes.
"I can take care of this. It's what you're paying me for."
"I don't mind." He dries off a serving platter and puts it in a cupboard.
This is a side of Donovan I didn't expect to see. The way he showed me off all evening and now how he's helping clean up warms my heart. It's almost as if we’re an old married couple. "How do you think it went?" I ask, curious to hear his thoughts.
He turns and pins me with those intense dark eyes and gives me a devastatingly handsome, panty-melting, good-luck-ever-finding-a-mouth-better-than-this smile. "It was the best party I've ever thrown. Hands down."
Overcome with pride, joy, and gratitude I want to throw my arms around him and stay there all night, but instead I smile back at him. "Thank you for everything."
Just then, my phone vibrates next to me on the counter. Glancing at it, I see it's a text from an unknown number.
Can you check your availability next month? I just left Donovan's party and I need you to cater my next event.
"One of your guests just texted me and wants to book me for an event. Already!"
Donovan winks at me. "You see? Told you."
Eleven
Donovan
"Liza. It's Donovan Monroe," I announce as I prop my feet up onto my desk and cradle my cell between my shoulder and ear.
"Oh." There’s surprise in her voice. "Hi, Donovan. How are you?"
"I'm doing well, thanks. I'm calling for a couple reasons. First of all, I keep getting messages and texts telling me how great the party was last week. Job well done. You should pat yourself on the back." It's true. Everyone loved Liza's food and I'm hoping this party will help catapult her business.
There are sounds of pans clinking in the background. I salivate thinking of what she might be making for dinner. "I've booked two parties already from your guests and I have to call someone back this evening to schedule a consult. I really can't thank you enough, Donovan."
"You're welcome. I'm also calling because I need you to come to an event with me. Call it market research." Because I won't be calling this a date. It isn't a date. "It'll give you ideas of what other catering companies are doing."
"When is the event?" she asks.
Fiddling with a paperclip on my desk, I open it and make shapes with it like I did back in high school. "It's Saturday night. Are you free?" I truly hope she is. I'd like to see her again when she isn't working. It'll give me time to get to know her and vice versa. That way, I can continue to woo her. It seems like everything I've been doing thus far is helping my cause. This past week I sent her a voice mail gushing about the party and I've been texting her once every other day, to which she always replies back with cute texts and emojis. It's as if I can see her blushing with each message.
"Yes. I can make that work. What should I wear?"
Visions of her perfect long and smooth legs have my blood pumping hard. What I wouldn't give to have those legs wrapped around me. "A cocktail dress."
"I can do that."
"Good. I'll pick you up at seven." I end the call.
Breathing deeply, I imagine Saturday night with Liza Dooley on my arm. It's everything I've always wanted. And now I think it's what she wants, too.
My plan is starting to work.
* * *
Making my way into Liza's building, I'm quite underwhelmed. She's meeting me in the lobby, and I'm assuming it's because she doesn't want me to see her apartment. There's no doorman here and it's in an unsavory neighborhood. She deserves better than this place. Once this is all said and done and her business is booming, she can get out of here.
Once inside, my eyes lock with hers and I suck in a breath. She's absolutely stunning. Liza is in a formfitting navy and black dress that hits mid-thigh. Her makeup is understated, but she's wearing fucking red lipstick. She smiles at me and I can still see the beautiful girl from high school, but now she’s dressed up with an air of sophistication. I get a semi like I used to as a damn teenager.
"You look beautiful, Liza."
She bites the corner of her full bottom lip. “Is this dress too much? You didn't tell me where we're going."
"No. It's perfect. We're going to the food festival uptown."
Her mouth makes a small O. "How did you get tickets?"
I raise my eyebrows and offer her my arm. "I have ways of getting what I want."
"I see." Her hand comes around my elbow and it feels annoyingly good.
We show up at the event at seven thirty. There are people milling around at all of the vendors. There are wineries represented, caterers, and restaurants. The event raises money for charity, but also helps the vendors gain exposure. It's hard to get a table here, but with my help, maybe next year Liza will be here.
Our first stop is at a table of a popular French restaurant. We each pick up samples of chicken consommé.
"This is amazing. Can you make something like this? It’d be a great first course at a dinner party," I say.
She finishes the sample and shakes her head. "Maybe one day. It's a technique I'd love to get better at, but I haven't mastered it yet."
I didn't realize it was a complicated dish. "Did you go to culinary school?"
We move on to the next table serving wine samples. "Not yet. It's a dream of mine to attend culinary school like Le Cordon Bleu."
"Where's that?" I ask.
I pick up a sample of Bordeaux and she takes Malbec. "They're everywhere. Boston, Pittsburgh, LA, but the original is in Paris. I'd love to visit it one day. But it’s on my bucket list to attend school. There’s even a great program here in the city, but it’s very expensive." She takes a sip of the wine and looks off in the distance, contemplating. "I was hoping when my business got up and running that I could hand the reins to Spencer and go to culinary school."
"I have confidence in you, Liza. You're going to make that happen."
She shrugs and gives me a halfhearted smile.
One of the major changes I see in Liza is that she’s lost her self-confidence. The events in her life have taken a toll on her. It’s time to start building her back up. Sure, I want revenge for the way she tossed me aside in high school, but that’s personal, not professional. I want her business to succeed. She needs to pay back the loan my company gave her. And this is her dream. I’m not going to crush that.
We continue walking to a booth set up from an Italian restaurant. The woman standing behind it drags her eyes up and down my body. I’m tempted to grab a napkin and wipe the drool off her chin. "Well, hello, handsome. Why don't you try some of my homemade pasta?" She hands me a sample and acts as if Liza isn't standing right next to me.
"Liza, would you like to try some pasta?" I give my sample to her and she takes a bite.
"Tasty. But I've had better,” Liza says as she starts walking away toward the next table. I follow beh
ind, but not before seeing the look of disgust on the Italian woman's face.
“That was rude.” Liza’s lip curls as she spits out the comment, and the muscles in her shoulders tense.
She’s jealous and it’s cute. “Don’t pay attention to her. Some people are uncouth. I’m sorry.”
She glares over her shoulder toward the woman who was undressing me with her eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. You can’t help that you’re gorgeous and women fawn all over you, but she didn’t have to act that way. What if I were your wife or girlfriend? It’s disrespectful.”
Gorgeous, huh? I feel the compliment all the way to my bones. “You’re right. People like her need to get a grip. I can take you home if you’d like.” I hope she doesn’t want the night to end already—I’m having far too much fun with her, but if she wants to go, I won’t make her stay.
She looks up at me with her warm chocolate eyes and smiles. “No. I want to stay. This is great. That incident is already forgotten.”
“Good. Let’s find another winery.” Placing my hand on her lower back, we walk along together like we’re a couple.
This is going exactly as I’d hoped. She’s still eating out of the palm of my hand. It won’t be long before she’s falling for me and I can finally move on with my life.
Twelve
Liza
"What are you doing right now?" I ask Spencer, clutching my cell phone.
"I'm just leaving the gym. Why? What's up?"
"Can you stop by now?" I do my best to keep my tone even. I don’t want to give anything away.
Honking and the generalized chaotic noises of New York City's streets are loud in the background. "Sure. Let me grab a cab and I'll see you in fifteen."
Excitement courses through me. To disperse some of my energy, I do what I always do to calm down. I bake. Today, I start making a batch of sugar cookies from scratch.