Seeking Mr. Perfect (The Jane Austen Pact)

by Jennifer Youngblood

  Who was he dating? Did she know the girl? It stung to think that Dalton didn’t care that Sierra had left him. To think, all these years she’d harbored such agonizing guilt for how everything had gone down, and he didn’t even give a crap. She couldn’t help chuckling at the irony.

  “I take it, from the ideas you sent over, you think Pristine Pizza should take a more modern, streamlined approach,” Parker said.

  “Uh, yeah.” She jerked back to attention, focusing on the screen. Parker and the five members of her team were sitting around the conference room table, staring at the screen on the wall that patched into her. For a few minutes, the conversation had centered on demographics from key areas around the nation where Pristine Pizza was hoping to capture a larger market share. Originating in Portland, Oregon, the restaurant chain had a grunge feel, catering to Millennials. Ross, the owner, wanted his restaurants to “grow up” and reach a larger market. To do this, the brand and restaurant designs needed a complete overhaul.

  “Would you mind explaining your thought process to the team?” Parker asked.

  Her pulse picked up a notch. Thought process? She wet her lips, attempting to collect her thoughts enough to convey something halfway intelligent. No golden nuggets yet … unfortunately. She tried to sound more confident than she felt. “Going with a modern look would make the restaurants feel more upscale. And maybe they could incorporate a few healthy pizzas and salads as well.”

  “Did you have a color scheme in mind?” This came from Angie, the head graphic artist.

  “No, not really. I’d like to do some more research.” A trickle of sweat rolled between Sierra’s shoulders. “Do any of you have ideas?” She was shooting in the dark here, totally unprepared.

  “Normally, when you think of modern and streamlined, you think of whites,” Bill said.

  Parker frowned. “That seems cold and sterile for a pizza place.” He looked at Sierra, his brow creasing in concern. “Are you sure modern is the right approach? What does your market research indicate? Do you have any comparisons you could show us?”

  Her breath hitched. “Um, I haven’t had a chance to really delve into that yet.” Her voice trailed off when she saw the look of disappointment on Parker’s face. For a split second, she feared he might chew her out, right here in front of the team, but he blew out a long breath, tugging at his ear. She knew that unconscious gesture. Parker was getting nervous.

  “Okay,” Parker said. “Let’s put that aspect on hold for a few minutes and jump to the campaign. What are your thoughts for that?”

  All eyes turned to Sierra, awaiting her answer. Sheesh. Was she the only one with an opinion? Normally, she would’ve spent a full day researching the topic and would have had a plan down to the letter. But seeing as how she’d been out all last night … and that her mind was a jumble over Dalton … she was at a complete loss. Her eye caught on the little boy sitting at a nearby table with his mother. When he realized Sierra was looking at him, he stuck out his tongue and stuffed his thumbs in his ears, wiggling his fingers like antlers. His mother swatted his head before mouthing an apology.

  Sierra chuckled. “No worries.” She glanced around the room and noticed a few people watching her. Even though she’d chosen a table in the corner, she was still causing quite the spectacle with her computer open, doing a Skype call.

  “I’m sorry?” Parker said.

  “Oh, nothing.” She looked at the boy again. This time, he grinned sheepishly and waved. She shook her head, smiling back. The boy leaned over and noisily slurped his strawberry shake. She glanced at the pre-teen girls sitting on the red-lacquer barstools, their legs swinging back and forth as they ate their mile-high sundaes.

  Clydedale’s was the embodiment of everything Sierra loved about small town living. The fragrant smell of dough mingling with spicy marinara tingled her senses, causing her stomach to rumble. She’d ordered a soda when she first got here but hadn’t had time to get anything to eat. After the Skype call was over, she planned to order her favorite—a pepperoni, hand-tossed pizza with extra cheese. Her gaze took in the black and white checked floor, fire-engine red barstools beside the counter, the old-fashion candy jars on the wooden shelves, large metal road signs on the walls, the large windows in front with the morning sun streaming in.

  Parker cleared his throat. “Are you with us?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” She realized with a start they were waiting for her to answer. What was the question? Oh, yeah, the marketing venue. “Maybe a combination of radio and Internet?”

  “As opposed to TV?” Parker asked.

  “TV is certainly effective, but pricey,” she countered. “And Ross iterated that he wanted his advertising budget to stretch as far as possible. We could start with radio and Internet, then follow that up with a print campaign.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Parker said. Mary, his assistant, nodded and jotted it down.

  Sierra’s shoulders relaxed. At least she’d said something right.

  Parker leaned back in his seat. “Now back to the design. Once we nail that down, we can come up with a slogan.”

  “The taste of home in every bite,” Sierra blurted.

  Parker cocked his head. “What?”

  “That’s the slogan.” A laugh gurgled in her throat. The answer had been right in front of her the entire time, but she was too stupid to see it. “I don’t think we should do modern.”

  Parker’s brows scrunched. “But you just said—”

  She waved a hand. “I know what I said,” she said impatiently, “but that’s not the right approach. Everyone’s going modern. We need to go the other direction.” She glanced around. “We need an old-fashioned, pizza/soda shop feel. A place where families can come together and hang out.” She began describing the restaurant around her. “A place that feels like home.” When the words ran dry, she sat back and waited for their reactions.

  A broad smile split Parker’s face. “The taste of home in every bite,” he repeated. “I love it. It’s ingenious. You had me worried for a minute there, but it’s brilliant.”

  All Sierra could feel right now was a heady relief. Her head was pounding. She needed sleep! The door opened. Her jaw dropped when Dalton strolled in. He looked at her, giving her a slight smile of acknowledgement. Crap! She didn’t want Parker to see Dalton. He’d take one look at the two of them and know something was up. No, that was ridiculous. Nothing was going on! Dalton didn’t care a hoot about her. He was dating someone else.

  It was then that she saw a flash of blonde hair and realized Dalton was with a woman, presumably the one he was dating. She stepped up beside him and linked her arm through his. Then she leaned close and laughed at something he’d said. Sierra’s eyes took it all in like a snapshot before her brain could connect the dots. Glossy hair, beautiful features, stylish outfit, petite and shapely.

  Three words formed in her mind, sending a sliver of horror running down her spine. Ivie Jane Compton! Her best friend turned nemesis. The one who could never forgive Sierra for what her mother had done. Sierra’s stomach rolled onto the floor in a putrid glob as a dart of jealousy stabbed through her heart with such intensity that it nearly took her breath away.

  “Are you okay?” Parker asked. “What’s going on there?”

  A rubbery smile twisted over her lips. “I’m fine. Hey, sorry, but I’m gonna have to let you go.” Shakes started in her hands, moving up her body.

  “But we still have a good two-hour’s worth of work in front of us. We need to nail down the logo and color scheme,” he argued. “Get some basic copy down. We have to be ready to present something to Ross tomorrow when he comes in.”

  “Black, white, and red,” Sierra rattled off. “I’ve already given you the slogan. Bill, you should be able to come up with some copy. Just keep it family oriented—a place where families want to be. Think of the old-fashioned soda shops with the gleaming counters and chrome accents.”

  He nodded. “Got it.”

  “A
ngie, I’ll give you leeway to work your magic on the logo. Shoot me a few samples by the end of the day.”

  “Will do.”

  Crap! They were coming towards her. “Sorry, but I’ve got to sign off now.” She flashed a brief smile at Parker. “I’ll catch up with you later today.” She ended the call just as Dalton and Ivie Jane approached the table.

  “Good morning,” Dalton said cheerfully, a slow smile sliding over his lips. Unlike her, he didn’t look like he’d been up most of the night. He was fresh … and gorgeous in a mid-tone grey button-down shirt that caught the color of his eyes. Not to mention the fact that it showcased his sculpted body. She allowed herself one tiny glance at his cut biceps. Sheesh. Did he live in a gym?

  Dalton looked her up and down, and she could sense his disapproval. She was wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt. Her hair was skinned back in a ponytail, and she barely had on any makeup. Ivie Jane, on the other hand, looked like she’d just stepped out of a magazine. She had to fight the urge to scowl.

  Amusement lit Dalton’s eyes as he motioned. “I see you’ve set up shop.”

  “Yeah, I needed the Internet,” she responded dryly.

  He chuckled, the sound vibrating in Sierra’s chest. “Oh, that’s right. Bennie has a vendetta against the Internet, refuses to spend money on it. You’re always welcome to go to my office across the street. I’m sure Phyllis would love the company.”

  She caught the glint in his eyes, knew he was needling her. “As wonderful as that sounds, I think I’ll stay here,” she said sweetly.

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Sierra hated the way her cells came alive now that Dalton was in the room. She caught a trace of his clean, masculine scent with a hint of musk. Or maybe it was her imagination. Maybe her mind was filling in the gaps from before. But whatever was happening, it was dang frustrating.

  Sierra looked at Ivie Jane who was studying her intently, like she was a bug under a microscope. Let’s see, the last time they’d spoken was in the cafeteria during their junior year in high school. Ivie Jane called Sierra a scumbag who wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans. That was right before Sierra punched her. She’d gotten suspended for three days, but it was so worth it.

  “Hey, Sierra,” Ivie Jane said, a breezy note in her voice. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, it has.” Not long enough in Sierra’s opinion. Sierra was terribly sorry that her mother took the life of Ivie Jane’s mother but there wasn’t a dang thing she could do about it.

  Ivie Jane gave Dalton an adoring look. “This guy told me you were back in town,” she cooed.

  Sierra’s stomach roiled at the sight of the two of them together. Was this some sort of twisted joke? Or nightmare? Of all the people for him to date, why did it have to be her greatest rival? “Yeah, I came back to help my aunt,” she said stiffly.

  “Nadine’s been in contact with me about the catering. I think it’ll work out well for all of us.” Ivie Jane smiled, but her eyes remained cold. Sierra knew in that moment that Ivie Jane hated her as much now as she ever did. She’d just learned the art of masking her hatred in good, old-fashioned southern hospitality—hand you the casserole with one hand and twist the knife in your back with the other.

  Ivie Jane motioned to Sierra’s ponytail. “That’s an interesting look. A kind of urban, city thing,” she twanged.

  Sierra smiled humorlessly. “Thanks. Ponytails are the rage in New York,” she said dryly.

  Dalton’s eyes widened a fraction and the corners of his lips quivered like he was trying not to laugh. For some strange reason, an incredulous laugh rose in her throat as her eyes met his. She felt that same age-old connection buzz between them like an electrical current. Ivie Jane noticed it too and cut her eyes at Dalton.

  “Well,” she sniffed. “It’s nice seeing you, Sierra.” She spoke her name like it was a swear word. “Good luck back in New York,” she chimed.

  Sierra could tell Ivie Jane would’ve ridden her out of town on a rail that instant if she could’ve.

  “Good to see you too,” Sierra repeated, mimicking Ivie Jane’s buttery tone. Then she flashed a smile so big it made her cheeks hurt.

  Ivie Jane tugged on Dalton’s arm. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved.”

  “I’m surprised you’re eating here instead of your own restaurant,” Sierra said.

  “My restaurant only opens for dinner,” Ivie Jane countered snippily like Sierra had made a dumb remark.

  “Let’s go, hon,” Ivie Jane said.

  Dalton nodded, but his feet stayed rooted on the floor. Ivie cocked her head in a question. “There was something else I wanted to tell you,” he mused. He looked at Ivie, then back to Sierra. “Oh, yeah. I know what it was. Janie wanted to invite you to her dad’s birthday party a week from Saturday at six p.m.”

  The stunned look on Ivie Jane’s face was comical, sending a smile over Sierra’s lips. Then she realized Dalton had called her Janie, a nickname suggesting an added layer of affection between them. She scowled inwardly.

  “It would be a nice gesture of goodwill,” Dalton added.

  Sierra’s eyes narrowed. What was she? Some charity case?

  Ivie managed to pick the corners of her smile back up. “Of course, we’d love to have you at the party.”

  “Thanks, but I think I have other plans.” There was no way Sierra was going to that party.

  Dalton frowned. “That’s too bad. It would be a great opportunity to promote the play. I’m sure Janie wouldn’t mind letting you announce it. Right, babe?”

  Seriously? First Janie and then babe? Sierra wanted to puke. “I’ll think about it,” she said, mostly because she could see how flustered Ivie Jane was. She still couldn’t believe Dalton was dating her. The ultimate betrayal!

  His eyes locked with hers, sending a smolder into her stomach. “See ya around.”

  She nodded. “Bye.” She watched them walk to a table and sit down. Her emotions were a tangled mass of ropes with no ends. She didn’t care whom Dalton dated. Of course she was surprised that he was dating Ivie Jane. But more power to them. She tried to avoid looking at them as she forced her eyes to her screen. She didn’t know how many minutes passed before someone spoke.

  “This is for you.” She looked up in surprise as Clyde Roberts, the owner of the restaurant placed a piping-hot pepperoni and cheese pizza on the table.

  “But I didn’t order anything,” she protested, her stomach rumbling. Crazy that she lived in New York where a person could theoretically get some of the best pizza in the US, but as far as Sierra was concerned, nothing compared to this.

  “On the house,” he winked.

  “Thank you.” She felt a rush of tenderness for the balding man in his mid-sixties who’d always been super kind. He and his wife Dale ran the restaurant, hence the name Clydedale’s. He had on the same attire he’d worn for as long as she’d known him—a white round-neck t-shirt and jeans. A cream apron, stained with pizza sauce, was stretched over his round belly. Sierra closed her laptop and pushed it off to the side. “You brought my favorite.” She was impressed that he still remembered after all these years.

  “Of course.” He perched a hand on his hip. “You and Dalton were two of my best customers.” He chuckled. “I remember the time y’all put away three whole pizzas.”

  That was the day Sierra made a proper English brunch, complete with cucumber sandwiches and tea. She insisted that Dalton join her. Dalton took one bite and gagged, but Sierra argued they were good and that Dalton wasn’t cultured enough to appreciate them. After the first square, however, she couldn’t do it any longer. They tasted like wet sponges. Finally, Dalton grabbed those sandwiches and flung them across the yard. Sierra was mad at first, then broke out laughing. Afterwards, they were still starving so they came here and scarfed down the pizzas. “That was a lifetime ago,” she said glumly, stealing a glance at Dalton and Ivie Jane. Nothing was the same as it had been before. An inexplicable feeling of loss o
vertook her, sending moisture into her eyes. Rapidly, she blinked it away.

  Clyde touched her arm. “He still loves you,” he said softly.

  She jerked. “Huh?”

  “A few minutes ago, I watched him talking to you. It’s written all over his face …” he gave her a pointed look “…and yours.” His expression grew reflective. “I’ve seen a lot of people come and go over the years, but I’ve never seen a couple as much in love as the two of you. Dale and I were just talking about it the other day. You’re soulmates. Always have been … always will be.”

  Sierra couldn’t stop the tear from rolling down her cheek. She swiped it away. “Thanks for the pizza,” she said hoarsely. “Please tell Dale I said hello.” Hold it together, she commanded herself. Don’t give Dalton and Ivie Jane the pleasure of seeing you fall apart.

  He looked her in the eye. “If a love’s worth having, it’s worth fighting for.” He made a clicking sound with this tongue as he slapped the table and winked. “Remember what I said, okay?”

  She nodded, her eyes burning. Mechanically, she reached for a slice of pizza and took a bite, not tasting a thing.

  Chapter 12

  Fantastic. Thank you. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  Sierra pumped her fist and let out a little shout of exultation as she ended the call. She glanced at Bennie whose nose was buried in the script for Macbeth. “That makes three appointments set up with tourist companies tomorrow.”

  “That’s nice,” Bennie said absently, pushing her glasses higher up on her nose.

  “One would think you’d be a little happier, since I’m saving your bacon,” Sierra muttered.