by Lynn Galli
My brow inched higher and higher. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“See? Even that. Instead of just thanking me, you gave me a compliment.”
I could feel heat flush my face. I couldn’t remember being embarrassed more often than I’d been over the last couple weeks.
“You’re getting red. According to your friend, it’ll match your hair.” Her eyes wandered up to the scarf I had banded around my head to hide the roots I still hadn’t re-dyed to brown yet.
My friend? Ainsley? “Why would you think we’re friends?”
“Because you go well together. You might bicker a little, but there’s respect there, not indifference.”
I couldn’t really agree because it felt like we didn’t go well together every time we got into a verbal war over something. “She told you I have red hair?”
“She said she almost didn’t recognize you. When she realized I didn’t know, she tried to stop talking. But how could I not have guessed with all those freckles?”
“Brunettes have freckles, too.” I didn’t know why I was arguing. Maybe it was the fact that she and Ainsley talked about me, about the only thing that Ainsley liked about me.
“Less frequently, but you’re fair with freckles and hazel blue-green eyes, I should have guessed you were a redhead.”
“You might not have to guess anymore.”
Her eyes wandered back up to study the scarf. “Really? Why do you dye it? Not that it doesn’t look good.”
“Thanks, but it was one of those identifiers, you know? A redhead or lesbian or big rack. Something people point to and think that’s all you are.”
“Not the big rack,” she kidded and we both laughed as I glanced down at my A cups.
“It’s getting to be a hassle, no more evident than these past weeks when it’s been nothing but wedding planning and trying to make sure my highest rated newsmagazine show doesn’t get annihilated in another country.”
“Best excuse ever. I’d like to see the red.” Her hand reached out and tugged on a chunk of hair below my ear. “Is it really red or just reddish?”
“Really red.”
“Irish?”
“Scottish and Italian.”
“Like that cute friend of yours.” Her eyebrows wraggled.
“Half like.”
“Does she know?”
“That she’s cute? I’m sure she does.”
“Shut up.” She laughed and shoved my shoulder. “That you’re half Scottish?”
“My name kinda gives it away.”
“I thought most Mac names were Irish?”
“Both Scottish and Irish. There’s also an Isle of Skye that was populated by the MacKinnon clan.”
Her grin this time was teasing. “Did you learn that from her?”
“I did, actually. She could fill days on what she knows about her country.”
“You like people who know stuff.”
My eyes narrowed. “What’s this about?”
“Just saying. She’s cute. You’re cute. You’re planning a wedding together. You get along.”
“We don’t.”
“What?”
“Get along.”
“Not what I saw or heard.”
“Squash it, sister, or I’ll have to start in on why you’re not giving Tom from the coffee shop his chance.”
“Ack.” She shivered at the mention of the tall lanky man who practically worshipped the ground she walked on every time she came in for some coffee. Since he was easily ten years younger, she didn’t give him a second glance. “Fine. Just saying you might find this easier if you started having a good time making these wedding plans.”
For a moment, I wondered what kind of good time she had in mind, and every option I came up with didn’t completely revolt me.
Sixteen
Gary shook his head while making marks on the list in front of him. “We’ve called everyone. Everyone, do you understand?”
“Yes, Gary. We have a command of English between the two of us,” I kidded, indicating Ainsley sitting beside me on the couch in his office. I preferred the table where we’d sat before, but Gary apparently felt it was easier to deliver bad news to people on soft surfaces. Twice now her shoulder had bumped against me. I didn’t like that I was so aware of that shoulder. I wasn’t the type of person to be aware of shoulders. It was just a shoulder, not a hand or mouth, a harmless shoulder.
“What are we going to do? This has never happened to me before.” He sounded like he was talking about an inability to perform in bed.
“It’s only a photographer.”
“And videographer,” he wailed. “They’re all booked. I took this job knowing it would be a challenge but with the full confidence that I could get it organized in time. And now this. My perfect record, down the drain.” One of his minions began rubbing his back in consoling circles.
I could point out that his florist and caterer options had been disasters as well, but that might send him packing to the unemployment line. “We have a videographer. I work at a television network. Everyone has camera experience.”
His head popped up. “Any still photographers?”
“No, but we ran a story once on a NFL photographer. I can give him a call. He may not be interested, but I figure if he can capture action on the field, he can handle a bride in a dress.”
“What will the couple think about this?” Gary looked genuinely worried.
“Dallas thought he was very good at what he did. If he’s been to a wedding, he’ll know what shots to take. You can always help him with that, right?”
“We’ll have a wedding shot boot camp.” His eyes danced at the very idea.
I called the photographer. He was surprised but happy to see us right away. We took a cab and met him at his apartment.
“Thanks for considering this, Isaac.” I shook his hand when he opened the door.
“Anything for Dallas, but I’m not sure I’m the right choice.” His lanky frame sported a soccer jersey and basketball shorts. He couldn’t be less like the other vendors we’d visited if he tried.
“This is Ainsley, Colin’s cousin, and Gary, the wedding planner.” My hand gestured to each. “Gary will be able to tell you what they’ll need. He and his staff will be there the entire time so he can direct you if need be, right, Gary?”
“Absolutely.” He shook Isaac’s hand. “Can we see some photographs you’ve taken recently?”
“I have to turn in my SD cards to the team after every game, but I’ll show you some shots on the website and for the papers.” Isaac pulled up the photos on the team’s site and onto the Post’s sport section to indicate the shots that were his.
“We’d need you for the entire night. You’ll take candid shots all throughout plus the usual groupings and settings. You’ve seen wedding photos, haven’t you?” While it was posed as a question, Gary seemed to take it for granted that everyone had seen wedding photos.
“For a few friends. Pretty typical, posed, not what I’m used to taking.”
“You have to take team shots. This won’t be much different,” I encouraged, knowing if Isaac wouldn’t do this we’d have to resort to a camera person on staff. Their photos wouldn’t come out anything like Isaac’s.
“I’m sure Colin and Dallas will want something different anyway,” Ainsley said. “I think they’ll like the shots that aren’t posed. Photos that show them sharing the day with each other and their friends and family.”
He nodded. “I can pull that off.”
“Can you pull it off for our budget?” Gary’s shock at not coming through with a photographer must have erased his diplomacy.
“For Dallas, sure, whatever you need. Her story raised my profile. I went from being second photographer to first. On off nights I get to work for other teams. That would have taken years on my own.”
“You would have gotten there just fine, but I’m glad the story worked out for you.” I stood and shook his hand. “Thanks, Isaac. Gary wil
l call you with the details. We appreciate you being so accommodating.”
“Take care, Skye.”
We left the apartment as one, but Gary ditched us as soon as we hit the street and he could get a cab. That left Ainsley and me standing alone on the sidewalk with nothing left to do tonight. We’d anticipated interviewing three photographers. Instead, none would take the appointment and the one guy I called saw us right away.
Friends would head to dinner together or a movie, but we weren’t friends. She didn’t seem to know what to do about this free time either. After all the action we’d be facing the past two weeks, it was almost a letdown to have nothing to do.
“Em,” she said and a shiver went through me. The way she pronounced her verbal pause was just as appealing as the accent that always got to me. First a shoulder brush and now a verbal pause. I really needed to get my focus back. She looked around and shrugged. “I guess we have a free night.”
“Looks like,” I agreed, thinking about all the work I could get done now that I had time. Contract reviews, finalize budgets, or I could just relax and read for an entire evening. Not one of Ainsley’s books. It should be an Ainsley-free night. One of my favorite mystery writers had just released a new novel. That would make for a pleasant evening. “We could get a jump start on the wedding guest gifts.” Or, apparently, my mouth could decide we should spend the evening together doing wedding stuff. Stupid mind-of-its-own mouth.
Her eyes widened slightly, probably just as surprised by my stupid mouth. “Do we know what they want?”
“Dallas emailed the options.”
“Speaking of wedding guests,” she started. “Colin is a little concerned about the rest of his party. He thought it was just going to be you and me, but I guess Dallas has her two sisters?”
“Right.”
“He’s not sure what to do. He’s got his dad and our favorite cousin, Logan, but I think he wanted to let his dad just be his dad at the wedding and Logan can get a little tipsy when there’s free scotch.”
My brow furrowed. “He doesn’t want to ask any of his friends?” He had a few good friends that he spent poker nights with or saw at the gym. He shouldn’t have trouble rounding up two other guys. “Does Dallas know?”
“No, and that’s part of the problem.”
“That he won’t tell her or doesn’t feel comfortable telling her?”
“Both. Just more proof that they may not be suited.” She glanced away almost guilty for having voiced the thought. “I’m worried. Aren’t you? If they can’t talk about something this simple, how can they make a life communicating together?”
She had a point. I’d been more worried that they might not know each other well enough yet, but I didn’t let it go to thinking they might not be suited for each other. I just thought they had to communicate better like they do on their show. This wedding party thing was a pretty trivial matter. I could see why he wouldn’t want to disrupt Dallas’s idea of a perfect wedding party with the hard reality of his less than stellar choices. It was hard to disappoint Dallas.
“It’s not like Dallas can keep her sisters out of the party. They’ll never speak to her again.”
Her shoulders hiked up. “He wants it to be just me.”
I contemplated the various options. “It’s already unique enough having a woman stand up for him. I don’t see why having only you would be so unusual.”
“That’s what I told him.” She seemed delighted that we agreed on this. “He’s going to try to break it to Dallas later today.”
“I’ll support whatever he decides. The sisters might actually like the idea of walking in and out alone. More attention on them.”
“I’ll let him know.” She glanced around again. “Fancy some dinner before we get on with the gifts?”
That didn’t sound like something to get because we were hungry and had other things to do later but more like she might enjoy sitting down to dinner with me. These past two weeks had been the oddest of my life.
Seventeen
The doorbell interrupted an attempt to rid my skin of the day’s grime. Another mini-crisis on one of the political talk shows had some of the guests getting their panties in a twist over something one of the hosts said. Agents were called, handlers were brought in, and political party heads had their asses kissed. I’d ordered more flower arrangements than Morgan could manage in one afternoon. Fruit and gift baskets went out as well.
I dunked my head under the spray to rinse out the conditioner then ripped a towel off the bar. Wrapping it quickly around my body, I raced to my bedroom for a robe.
Downstairs, my hand reached for the doorknob as I searched the foyer table for my wallet. Cash in hand, I turned back to accept the pizza I’d ordered and found myself staring into Ainsley’s chest. My eyes flipped up to hers in confusion. No pizza and Ainsley an hour early?
“Are you paying me for something?” Her eyes looked at my outstretched hand.
“I thought you were pizza.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but never pizza.”
I felt naked as her eyes drifted over me. I’d managed to slip on the robe over the towel, but with wet hair and bare legs, she knew I was just out of the shower. I shouldn’t feel odd about that. We’d shared a tiny apartment with one bathroom in New York. She’d seen me in a towel before, most definitely in a robe before. My hair wet, my face scrubbed of makeup, and the worst bedhead imaginable. Roommates saw each other that way, but for some reason, this felt very different.
“I ordered pizza.” My stupid mouth was taking over again and stating the obvious.
“You’ve said.”
We were still standing on the doorstep. Me, almost naked, she, looking gorgeous in charcoal colored slacks and a pink patterned shirt. Her hair hung loose again, billowing out around her shoulders. I wanted to reach up and shove my fingers into it. It would be soft, I was sure. Silky, too, because she wasn’t using products like gel or mousse. If she did, her wispy curls would be under more control and look nowhere near as soft.
I started in place, realizing I hadn’t let her inside yet. Today had really done a number on me. I stepped back and waved her inside. “Did you take a cab instead of Metro?”
“No.” She looked at me oddly, or maybe she was still hung up on the fact that I was dripping and nearly naked.
“Weren’t you coming over in an hour?”
“Half seven, you said.”
“Right,” I confirmed.
Her head tipped toward the wall clock in my living room. My eyes bulged when I noted the time. I’d really spent that much time in the shower? Or maybe it was the time spent zoning out in my closet stripping off my clothes or staring vacantly into the bathroom mirror trying to forget the constant stream of EPs from every show complaining about how hard their jobs were going to be now that one of the political parties threatened to keep their people off our shows. Days like this one made it difficult to like my job, but I really couldn’t give it more thought or I might act irrationally for the first time in my life.
“Damn,” I whispered.
“Take your time,” she said understandably. “The nice thing about the internet is that it’s open twenty-four hours.”
I gave her a wistful smile. “I’ll go change. If the pizza comes, will you hand over the money, please?” I pushed the fistful of cash into her hand and dashed back up the stairs.
Without thinking, I chose a pair of dark slacks and a sleeveless blouse. Dressier than I’d normally go for an evening at home, but I’d make an effort because Ainsley looked so nice. I ran a brush through my hair, inspecting the color variations. The worst thing about going back to a natural color was the time it took to rinse out the dye while hiding the root growth. I could visit the salon for a coloring to match my natural, but I’d never seen a red dye job that looked good. It hadn’t been a conscious choice to go back to my natural color. Once the wedding plans were dumped on us, I didn’t have time to think about it. The fact that Ainsley com
plimented my red had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.
Back downstairs, Ainsley was placing the pizza box on the counter. My stomach gave a low rumble once my nose took a whiff. I’d forgotten to eat lunch today and couldn’t remember if I’d even had my standard toast for breakfast this morning.
“Feel better?” Ainsley turned to face me.
“It was a rough day.”
“Fire someone again?”
It felt good to be able to discuss some of the hardships at work with her. She’d proven to be a good listener. “Probably should have. A conversation on-air got a little heated. The host didn’t follow the usual protocol when dealing with high profile incumbents. The politician took offense and it was left to the producers to genuflect appropriately.
“And you?”
“Being the boss’s boss means spending a lot of time calming the waters to make sure we keep getting guests on our shows and don’t blow it with advertising sponsors.” I pulled out two plates and set them on the counter.
“I’ve eaten already.”
“It’s your favorite.”
Her eyes searched the toppings on the pizza and came back up to meet mine. “You remembered?”
I had to look away at the wonder that sounded in her tone. “Sit. Have a few bites.” I slid a slice onto the plate in front of her. “Chardonnay?”
“A smidge.”
I hid my smile as I retrieved two wine glasses. “After we get these reservations tonight, there’s not much left before the twins return.”
“The twins?” She giggled around a mouthful of pizza.
“Van calls them the twin beauties. It’s caught on.”
“I like it.”
We ate and talked about what she’d done for the day. She seemed to like Washington even if she was spending most of her summer vacation working. After dinner I brought my laptop over to the counter and plopped my iPad next to it.
“You look through the hotel photos online while I look up what’s available.” I loaded a hotel search site on my laptop and did the same on the tablet. Dallas and Colin were springing for their immediate family, but everyone else had to be able to afford to stay at the same places or nearby. The internet connection was spotty at their hotel in South America, so once again, the task fell to us.