“True. For a deflection strategy, it worked well. And it happened to be really, really good.” She drained her glass. Her heart was beating super-fast.
“I thought so, too,” he said.
A beat of silence passed, a thoughtful silence. Greer was thinking about sex. And portraits. She suspected Ford was, too.
“What do you think?” he asked her. “Will you say yes? This painting will go in a show in Manchester, England. An important one.”
Pierre’s gloating over winning the wedding gown, The Price Is Right, Miss Thing’s speech about taking risks, the shock of seeing Wesley, Serena’s adorableness, Ford’s hot-as-hell kiss … all of it conspired to give Greer an idea that would qualify as Miss Thing’s requirement for her to “do something crazy.”
She took out her phone. Fiddled with it.
“What are you doing?” he asked her.
“Turning this into an opportunity.”
“How so?”
She looked up. “I have fifteen minutes to get to La Di Da and sign up in the contest to win that dress. I could go without you, but in case Pierre challenges me, I’d like you there, please. As a friend.”
“I’m not following your logic. You’re not getting married. At the auction you said this dress was only an investment opportunity. But now you want it so badly? Why?”
“Because the heart wants what it wants,” she said. “You get that. You want me. At least as a painting subject. And you can’t explain it, right?”
“True, but I’m still not sure about this contest idea.”
“I’m a future bride,” she said. “The contest description never said I actually had to have a partner at this point in time to enter.”
“Wait a minute … give me that leaflet again.” He reread it and looked up. “You’re right. You should have been a lawyer.”
“Being logical is a strong point for me.”
“This isn’t logical. This is you following a yen. How many women pursue wedding gowns when they have no partner?”
“Just go to Pinterest and see,” she said. “Plenty of women have their entire weddings planned out before they find true love. It’s a thing.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Sure! So while I do me—with you as my supportive friend by my side, because this is going to be a little daunting—you can do you and paint me. I’ll get half an hour of support from you tonight. And who knows how many hours of posing you’ll get from me. I’ll pose as long as it takes for you to finish, if you can be flexible about my schedule.”
“I’m going to need to work fast. So I might be demanding of your time. I’m not sure that I can be entirely flexible.”
“Okay, so we’ll meet in the middle. Because to tell you the truth, Ford, I’m not sure how much work this contest will entail, either. I’m going to enter as a partnerless bride, but I might need some rabble-rousers cheering me on in the background. Are you in?”
“I’m in,” he said.
They shook on it.
CHAPTER NINE
Feeling Greer’s palm against his own when they shook hands made Ford think of making mad, hot love to her.
“A cab driver will be waiting outside in one minute,” she said. “We could walk to La Di Da, but then I’d only have a few minutes to sign up. I’d rather play it safe.”
She said a quick good-bye to her friend Jill, who brazenly eyed him from head to toe and whispered in his ear: “I’ll come for you if you hurt her.”
“Are you joking?” he whispered back. “She’s tough as nails. Haven’t you noticed?”
She merely glowered at him.
And then they headed down several flights of stairs.
“Nice girl, Jill,” he said. “She just threatened me.”
Greer waved a hand. “Oh, her family’s from Sicily.”
“Right, so that makes it okay,” he said dryly.
“She doesn’t mean it,” Greer said. “She’s got a heart of gold.”
“As long as she doesn’t give me feet of concrete and drop me off the Ravenel Bridge, we should get along.”
Greer stopped. “Mafia jokes aren’t nice.”
“My apologies. Why did the painter cross the road?”
“I don’t know.”
“To see from the other side.”
“That wasn’t very funny.”
But he’d diffused her pique. Her cheeks were extra pink. At the curb, he said, “What if they ask us how we got engaged? We can say we met in London at one of my shows. You were on a business trip.”
“You don’t have to pretend to be my fiancé, remember? You’re coming as my friend.”
“Are you sure? You can wear my signet ring and I’ll pretend it’s a temporary engagement ring until the one I’m getting designed in London shows up.”
“Nope. But thanks.” She peeked at the ring. “It’s very distinguished looking.”
“A classy old gent who took pity on me gifted it to me. Said to look at it and remember honor.”
“He sounds nice. What’s your last name?”
“Smith.”
“A very common name here in the States,” she said.
“Fancy that.”
“Haven’t you ever felt something important was happening, but you weren’t sure what or why? Like all the owls gathering outside Harry Potter’s house?”
“No.” He had, of course. But why share?
“Well, I got that feeling tonight at La Di Da. When I saw the wedding dress. Actually, it happened the first time I saw it this morning, too.”
“I’m never one to question a woman’s intuition.”
“Good,” she said.
The car arrived, and they got in. For a moment, the silence was deafening.
She shot him a wry smile. “I do appreciate your coming with me.”
“It requires very little effort on my part.” And he was glad. Every once in a while, the memory of Teddy’s news intruded upon his conscious thoughts, and the stress of it made his chest feel as if it had bands around it, cinching him tight. This situation was a welcome distraction.
“We’ll fill out the entry form, stuff it into a box, and that will be that,” she said.
“Good.”
Her knees were pressed together, and her hands clasped in her lap. “It’s a long shot,” she said, “but any chance to win this dress is better than none at all.”
“If you don’t win it, can’t you buy another? I know they cost a bomb, but—”
“I have the money to buy one, but no. It has to be this one.”
“What if you can order a duplicate?”
“No. It has to be the one in the window. It’s the one with the amazing beads with a spell attached to them. I felt something there. It must mean something.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
She paused. “I admit, this whole thing is crazy. Including agreeing to pose for you.”
“Things are rather mad at the moment,” he said. “But I’m looking forward to painting you.”
“I’m chasing an impulse,” she said. “With very little chance of succeeding. That’s not like me.”
“I’m taking risks, too,” he said. “We won’t be working under my usual conditions. Time is far too short.”
“Did your wedding cancellation break your heart?” she asked out of the blue.
“It rather did,” he didn’t hesitate to say. “But not because my fiancée and groomsman were disloyal. That was difficult, but there’s something else. I’m still trying to figure out why the whole tawdry affair cut me off at the knees. It’s why I’m here in Charleston. I need a new perspective.”
“Has coming here helped?” She had a genuine look of concern in her eyes.
“So far, no revelations,” he said. “But it has given me breathing room.”
The car rolled up to La Di Da. They both thanked the cab driver. When they got out, the air was warm and humid, but there was a slight breeze coming down the street, rounding the rooftops,
from off the harbor. If he craned his neck, Ford could see a half moon above a tall palmetto tree on the corner.
According to Greer, the stores on the Spring Stroll shopping tour were open until nine P.M., but Pierre had extended his store hours until eleven. It was definitely winding down. Only two shoppers were browsing inside.
At the door, she held out her right hand. “Thanks for being here,” she said.
“Glad to be of service,” he replied, and clasped it. He was once again surprised how good it felt to hold her fingers in his. He tugged her toward the door, then let go of her to open it.
That didn’t last long enough, he thought. She ducked under his arm, and a whiff of her citrus scent activated a more primitive part of his brain. More, more, more. He could feel it thrumming in his temples, his limbs, his groin, making him crazy with the need to get close to her, to kiss her again, to have her beneath him.
But he was a civilized male, for God’s sake. He needed to keep his lusty thoughts in check. He crossed the plush carpet of the distinctly feminine shop behind Greer.
An older woman in a lilac dress and expensive-looking sage green paisley scarf greeted them. Her name was Henny, and she wore glasses on a beaded chain. “You’re here to enter the contest?” She looked at Greer.
“Yes.” A faint pink tinged Greer’s cheeks.
“You made it just in time.” Henny had a melodious Lowcountry accent.
Greer picked up a pen and started writing. She looked as innocent as a kitten held by a nun in church. Ford knew better. “I’m so glad we made it,” she said. “Is Mr. Simons here?”
“He left for the evening,” Henny said. “I’m holding down the fort.”
“Lucky you,” Ford said.
“I don’t mind.” Henny smiled. “I’ve gotten to meet some lovely brides-to-be. We’re nearly at our cap, and we’re sure to reach it tomorrow, probably as soon as we open. So good thing you made it.”
“How many spaces are left?” Greer asked.
Henny held up two fingers.
Greer sucked in a breath. “Only one left after I sign up?”
“That’s right. We got a bride from as far away as Greenville, four hours away by car. Her mother was on the Spring Stroll, the young lady drove down, and came in to sign up. You just missed her. We also had one from Columbia. That’s only two hours, but it’s exciting that word spread so far and fast.”
“My,” Greer exclaimed. “I almost missed my chance.”
“Don’t think of it that way,” Henny said. “Just be happy you made it.”
Ford wasn’t sure what to think, other than that Pierre Simons was a master marketer. He had the whole state buzzing. Ford himself certainly couldn’t get excited over a few beads with an interesting story. He hoped he and Greer would be out of there in five minutes tops.
“Oh, I see they want a partner’s name, too,” Greer said.
“Just for our information. Only you’re in the actual contest.”
“I don’t have a groom yet,” Greer said.
Henny’s eyebrows flew up, and she looked at Ford. “Well, who’s this?”
“A good friend,” he said. “Greer is a future bride.”
“A future bride?” Henny asked doubtfully.
“Sure,” he said. “She’s a planner. Very organized. She’s not averse to getting the wedding gown before she finds a soul mate.”
Henny’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, but … but you need a partner to enter this contest.”
Greer smiled. “That’s not what the leaflet says. It only says I need to be a future bride. I plan to be. Someday.”
“Good Lord,” said Henny. “We’ve registered brides with partners and wedding dates already lined up. It’s not fair to them to let you in.”
“Most women dream about their wedding day,” Greer said. “I’m one of them. Don’t I have just as much right to look forward to and plan my wedding as any woman with a partner already in place? I certainly have the financial resources to plan. The only thing separating me from the other brides in the contest is a matter of timing. My true love will arrive eventually. And I’ll be ready to go.”
Henny stood frozen, her lips slightly parted.
“You ever see that film Field of Dreams, Henny?” Ford asked.
“Well, yes,” Henny said, “but—”
“If Greer gets the dress, the guy will show up,” Ford said. “Kind of like ‘If you build it, he will come.’ Kevin Costner listened to that voice, didn’t he? He built that field, and they came.”
Henny’s brow furrowed.
“Weddings don’t just happen,” said Greer.
“That’s right,” said Ford. “You have to chase after them. Be proactive.”
“I suppose I see what you mean.” Henny hesitated. “I don’t know what to do. I need to call Mr. Simons.”
She looked so rattled, Ford took pity on her. “We’ll be happy to wait,” he said.
“It’s been a crazy day setting this up so fast,” she murmured as she picked up the phone at the register and dialed. “We only got the gown this morning.”
Ford looked at Greer. She smiled back as if she hadn’t a care in the world, the minx. She was stirring up trouble, and she knew it.
“We already had Spring Stroll activities planned,” Henny said, her palm over the phone receiver, “but Mr. Simons rightfully decided Royal Bliss deserved the spotlight.”
“It does,” said Greer.
They waited some more.
“He’s not answering,” Henny said, sounding worried.
“Maybe he’s asleep,” said Greer. “At any rate, here’s my entry form.” And she thrust it at Henny.
Henny put the phone back on its receiver then, with a bit of hesitation, took the piece of paper. “I can’t guarantee you’ll actually be in the contest, young lady,” she said, not unkindly. “So don’t be too disappointed if you get a phone call telling you you’re disqualified.”
“Mr. Simons knows where to find me if he’d like to talk,” Greer said.
“I’m a hundred percent behind Greer’s effort,” Ford told Henny. “Do you realize how many women on Pinterest are planning their future weddings without having a partner in place yet?” He’d never actually opened Pinterest himself, but she didn’t need to know that.
Henny drew in her chin. “No. I wasn’t aware.”
“It’s a thing,” he said.
“A thing?” Henny replied.
“It most certainly is,” he said.
There. He’d done his duty.
Henny led the way to the shop’s front door. “You’re a very bold young woman,” she said to Greer, then turned back to Ford. “You’re a good friend. I can see that.”
Which was her proper way of saying his lady friend was different, and he was a saint to put up with her neuroses. He got it. His mother and all her friends did the same thing: spoke in code.
“Thank you for coming in to La Di Da,” Henny said to Greer. “And assume you’re entered into the contest if you don’t hear from Mr. Simons. Which means you’ll need to go to the cocktail party tomorrow night.”
Greer’s eyes widened. “What cocktail party?”
Henny chuckled. “Did you think he’d merely draw a name out of a hat?”
“Yes,” said Greer, and looked at Ford.
He raised and lowered his palms.
Henny leaned closer to them both. “This contest,” she said, as if it were a great secret, “is a marketing tool. Mr. Simons intends to squeeze every drop of publicity out of it that he possibly can.”
There was a beat of silence.
“What does that marketing entail exactly?” Ford asked.
“There’s a La Di Da Bridal announcement party,” Henny said in firm tones, “tomorrow night at the Dewberry Charleston Hotel on Marion Square. All contestants are required to attend, and the public is invited as well. Cash bar and lots of fun. And that’s not all. A few more events are scheduled before the winner is chosen.”
“Wow,” said Greer, looking a bit scared and excited all at once. They said their good-byes, and when they got to the corner, she stopped and looked at Ford as if she hadn’t just turned the small world of La Di Da ladies’ apparel store upside-down. “I think…” she said.
“You think what?”
“That we did it.” She smiled.
“There’s an actual possibility that we did,” he said back, and had a sinking feeling.
CHAPTER TEN
Leaving La Di Da, Greer was elated. Wait until she told Miss Thing and the girls that she had done something crazy while they were gone! She whirled to face Ford. “Can you believe Pierre decided to start an entire bridal department so he’d have an excuse for this gown contest, all so he could punish me for not finding him a soul mate?”
“He’s diabolical. Bright, too. He’ll make a great deal of money, eventually, from this revenge he seeks.” Ford put his hands in his pockets and jingled some coins. “I’d like to hire him as my villain-on-call if I ever need one.”
“Me, too.” Greer stopped. “Thank you so much for going to bat for me in there with Henny.”
“I was using a metaphorical cricket bat, I’ll have you know.” He smiled.
“Whatever it was, I appreciate it.”
“You’re very welcome. You’ll have to show me some of these wedding boards on Pinterest.”
“I’d love to. It’s nice of you to be interested.”
They started walking again. The moon was high in the sky.
“You interest me,” he said, and grabbed her hand.
A jolt of adrenaline surged through her. “You interest me, too.”
“Tell me about where you live.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand.
That sent shivers up her spine. “It’s called the Baker House. It’s on Colonial Lake.”
“I love Colonial Lake.”
“Isn’t it pretty? Anyway, the Baker House is the dignified, red-bricked building on the corner of Ashley and Beaufain.”
“Oh, yes. It’s very different looking.”
“It’s rare in Charleston to see such a mix of architectural styles. It’s eclectic, with mission and craftsman influences.”
A Wedding At Two Love Lane Page 9