Beauty and Her Boss

by Jennifer Faye

  Unless...no one bought a ticket or showed up. But then Gabrielle would be crushed and he would be to blame. Either way he would be in trouble.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE PLANS WERE coming together.

  Later that afternoon, Gaby straightened her desk. It had been a very productive day. She recalled her breakfast with Deacon. He hadn’t been very congenial at first, but once he realized she wasn’t going to give up, he became helpful.

  And though she hated to admit it, he was right. This event needed a different vibe than the events she’d planned at the library. This was his world and he knew these people, so she’d follow his lead.

  It may not be the type of event she was used to planning, but she would work to make it perfect. People would come. They would enjoy themselves, and they would donate to a worthy cause.

  By five o’clock she’d also finished reading the screenplay Deacon had given her. She’d made a list of pros and cons and sent it to him in an email. With her tasks done for the day, she shut down the computer and then made her way to the guesthouse.

  She brought the fund-raising plans with her. She was too excited to stop now. The plans were coming together really well and instead of this event being her get-out-of-jail-free card, it was turning into an event she believed in and wanted to see succeed.

  Mrs. Kupps had placed some dinner in the fridge with a note for reheating it. Gaby smiled. The woman was the absolute sweetest. She wondered if Deacon knew how lucky he was to have someone so kind and thoughtful in his life.

  Gaby settled at the table with her laptop, a legal pad and all the notes she’d taken during her talk with Deacon. She didn’t know how much time had passed when there was a knock at the door.

  She couldn’t imagine who it might be. Mrs. Kupps had left long ago. And no one could get access to the private estate.

  Gaby ran a hand over her hair and a finger around her mouth, making sure there weren’t any crumbs from the chocolate chip cookies that Mrs. Kupps had left her. And she rushed to the door. Gaby peered through the peephole and was shocked to find Deacon.

  What was he doing here?

  Her heart started beating faster. She glanced down at her white shorts and old Support Your Library tank top. Not exactly the most attractive outfit, but it’d have to do.

  She swung the door open. “Hi.”

  Deacon looked uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

  “It’s fine. Do you want to come in?”

  He shook his head. “I saw your light on and figured you couldn’t sleep, either.”

  Either? As in he didn’t sleep at night? Interesting. “I was going over more plans for the fund-raiser.”

  “At this hour?”

  “You gave me until tomorrow to come up with a revised plan.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” When she nodded, he frowned. “If you need more time, it’s not a problem.”

  “Actually, I’m just about finished. Tomorrow works fine to go over the agenda.” She was certain that wasn’t why he stopped over. “What did you need?”

  He glanced down. There was a book in his hand. When his gaze rose and met hers, there was uncertainty in his eyes. “It was nothing.”

  “Obviously it was something or you wouldn’t be here. Are you sure you don’t want to come inside?”

  He shook his head. “I—I just finished reading this new book and thought you might enjoy it.”

  The fact he’d thought of her and wanted to share something personal filled her chest with a warm sensation. A smile lifted her lips.

  She held out her hand. “What type of book is it?”

  He handed it over. “It’s a suspense book. But I’m sure you have other books you’re already reading.”

  “Actually, I just finished one last night. So you have perfect timing.”

  “I do?”

  She couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness. When it came to business, he was very sure of himself. But here, with it just being the two of them, he was nervous. And that bit of knowledge chipped away at the wall she’d erected to keep him out of her heart.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Usually I can figure out what’s going to happen in the end, but this book kept me guessing until the last page.”

  She turned over the book and quickly read the blurb. “It sounds intriguing. I can’t wait to read it. Thank you.”

  “I, uh, should be going.” And with that he walked away.

  As Gaby closed the door, she was struck by the gesture. It was so small and yet, it said so much about the man. The fact that he liked to read checked off a big box for Gaby—not that she was looking at him as a prospective boyfriend. But the fact that he used his mind for more than just work meant a lot.

  And what meant even more was that he was thoughtful. The more she got to know him, the less he seemed like the monster that others had made him out to be after the accident. It was getting harder and harder to view him as the enemy.

  * * *

  “Okay. You have yourself a fund-raiser,” Deacon said the next day after going over her revised plans for the event in his office.

  “I do?” Gabrielle smiled.

  He tried to ignore the way her smile warmed his insides. Focus on the fund-raiser. He cleared his throat. “Do you have a name for it?”

  “Actually, I’ve given this a lot of thought. And you can change it, but how about the Diana Pink-Rose Tournament?”

  The title that Gabrielle had chosen couldn’t have been more perfect. His mother’s name. She would have loved it. He was touched that Gabrielle had included her name in it. A lump of emotion swelled in his throat and for a moment he didn’t trust himself to speak.

  Misinterpreting his silence, Gabrielle said, “If you don’t like it, I could work on some other titles.”

  He shook his head and swallowed hard. He wasn’t the type to let himself get emotional, but Gabrielle was the first person to do something so kind and thoughtful in honor of his mother. She probably didn’t even know how much it meant to him and perhaps it was better that way. It’s too bad the fund-raiser would never become a reality. He thought it would definitely have been a great event.

  His gaze met hers. “It’s perfect. Thank you. What made you choose the pink rose for the title?”

  She shrugged. “I guess because pink is the color of breast-cancer campaigns.”

  “Do you know what else pink rose means?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then come with me.” He led her down to the rose garden, where he’d purposely planted a rosebush in every color that he could track down. As they made their way down the steps in the back of the house, he said, “My mother loved roses. And so I made a point of buying as many colors as I could find. I loved watching her face light up with every color that was added to the garden.”

  “That was very sweet of you. She was lucky to have you.”

  “No. I was the lucky one.” And he meant every word of it. His mother had loved him even when he hadn’t made the wisest choices. And she cheered him on when he reached for the stars. “I couldn’t have asked for a better mother.”

  When they stood in the rose garden, Gabrielle’s eyes searched his. “What are we doing here?”

  “Did you know that each rose has a meaning?”

  “I know that red roses mean love. But that’s all.”

  “Ah, but not any love—true love. I’m sure you must get them all of the time.”

  “I must admit that I’ve never received any.”

  The fact that no man had given her roses really surprised him. Gabrielle was so beautiful. Her beauty started on the inside and radiated outward. He’d like to be the first to present her with one. “You should have roses and daily.”

  Colo
r filled her cheeks. How was it possible that she grew more beautiful each time he saw her? His heart picked up its pace. He couldn’t help but stare. He never got enough of looking at her. Was it possible for her to look even more radiant?

  It was with great effort that he turned away. He walked down the brick path and stopped next to a white rose. “This one is the traditional rose of weddings. And it represents purity and virtue.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “Each time I ordered a new rose, I would do my research. Roses are quite intertwined in history. I would distract my mother from her discomforts with stories that included the various roses.”

  Gabrielle gazed at him but didn’t say anything. Yet there was a look on her face and he couldn’t read it.

  “What?”

  “It’s just that you continually surprise me.”

  “You mean you thought I was nothing but a conceited partygoer.”

  “Um, no. I don’t know why you think that. It’s just that I don’t know any men who know so much about flowers.”

  His body tensed. It was even worse than he’d thought. “You think I’m a wimp—”

  “No. Not at all. I think what you do here is wonderful.” There was sincerity in her voice. She continued down the walk and stopped in front of a pink rosebush. “And how about these? What do they mean?”

  “The dark pink petals mean gratitude and appreciation.” He moved to a neighboring light pink rose. “And this one means sympathy.”

  He continued walking through the garden. When he came across his gardening supplies, he grabbed a pair of shears. He moved to some long-stemmed yellow roses. He searched for a perfect bloom and then cut it. He turned and presented it to Gabrielle.

  A bright smile lit up her face. “Thank you.” She lifted it to her nose and inhaled. “What does it mean?”

  “Friendship.”

  She sniffed the petals again. “Is that what we have here?”

  He hadn’t tried to define what was going on between them until now. It was more complicated than friendship, but that title was safe and easy, so he went with it. “That’s what I’d like to think.”

  Her eyes reflected her approval. “Me, too.”

  * * *

  She’d slept in!

  The next morning, Gabrielle awoke with a start. It was Deacon’s fault that she’d been awake until the wee hours of the morning. He’d loaned her that book and it was good—no, it was great. She raced through her bedroom, trying to get ready for work as fast as she could. It wasn’t that Deacon would be standing there by the office door waiting for her to arrive. It was more a matter of how much she wanted to accomplish that day.

  She opened the door of the guesthouse and found a bud vase with a single yellow rose. She glanced around for Deacon, but he was nowhere to be seen. What had happened to the man who used to growl at her? She knew where she stood with his former self, but with this new version of Deacon, she was constantly losing her footing.

  Deacon wasn’t all good or all bad—he was both, but she was quickly learning that there was a lot more good in him than bad. She picked up the rose and lifted it to her nose. Its perfume was gentle but delightful. She’d never smell another rose without thinking of him.

  She loved that each color of rose had a meaning. What impressed her more was that Deacon had learned the meanings in order to delight his mother.

  As she carried the flower into the guesthouse to find just the perfect spot for it, her aunt’s words came back to her: if you find a man that is good to his mother, he will also be good to you. Gaby had only been a know-it-all teenager when her aunt had given her these sage pieces of advice, but somehow they’d stuck. Someday, some woman was going to be very lucky to have Deacon by her side.

  But it wasn’t going to be her.

  Even if she were drawn to him, the cards were stacked against them. There was just too much baggage between them. Relationships were hard enough under normal circumstances, but theirs was outside the bounds of normal.

  As she tried to dismiss the profound meaning of Deacon making this gesture, she recalled what he’d said about yellow roses: they meant friendship.

  Did that mean he considered her a true friend? The acknowledgment stirred a rush of emotions. She tried to tamp down her reaction, but her heart refused to slow. She once again breathed in the flower’s gentle perfume.

  The fact that it wasn’t her birthday and it wasn’t a holiday made this gesture all that much more special. He’d done it just because he could. This was the most thoughtful thing a man had ever done for her.

  She knew then and there that she was in trouble. Deacon was working his way through all the barriers she’d built around her heart. Why did it have to be him that got to her? He was the absolute last person she should be interested in and yet, he was the one that kept her awake at night. And when she did fall asleep, he was the one that filled her dreams.

  She was still puzzling over what to do about her feelings for Deacon when he materialized in the doorway of the office. He looked quite handsome. The dark circles under his eyes were fading and when he smiled, it eased the worry lines bracketing his eyes.

  “I hope you had a good night,” he said.

  Gaby yawned. She didn’t know if there was enough coffee in the world to keep her awake today. “Morning.”

  His eyebrows gathered. “Don’t tell me you were working all night.”

  “No. I was reading.” She recalled the book, so she grabbed it from her purse and handed it to him. “Thank you. It was just as good as you said it would be. It had me guessing right up until the last chapter.”

  He accepted the book. “I’m glad. But you didn’t have to read it so quickly.”

  “Yes, I did. Once I started reading, I had to keep going. It’s the way I am when I get into a book.”

  When he nodded in understanding, their gazes met and held longer than necessary, and her heart began racing. Her stomach shivered with nerves. She’d never had a problem speaking with anyone until now. When she glanced away from him, her gaze skimmed over the yellow rose. “Thank you for the rose. It’s beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” He stepped back and leaned against the desk opposite hers. “I’ve been thinking that you have everything pretty much planned out for the event except for the menu.”

  “I guess I need to do that sooner rather than later so I can give the caterer the menu.” She pulled out a pad of paper. “Do you have a preference for the format? Sit-down? Buffet? Finger foods?”

  He paused as though giving each option due consideration. “This is going to be more of a garden party than anything else, correct?”

  Gaby wouldn’t exactly classify the event that way, but for the lack of a better term, she went with it. “Sure.” Following his line of thought, she said, “So the finger foods might be best.” When Deacon nodded, she added, “And we could have the wait staff mingle with trays.”

  “Sure, sounds good.”

  There was one more thing that she’d thought of. She didn’t know how Deacon would feel about it since he was in favor of streamlining the event. But she thought that it would add a bit of fun to the event and it could be a big revenue raiser during the afternoon.

  “I’ve been going over the plans and I think there’s one more thing we should do.”

  Deacon’s face grew serious. “What would that be?”

  “A Chinese auction.”

  “No.”

  She frowned at him. “How can you just readily dismiss the idea?”

  “Because the basis of the Chinese auction is to ask others to donate items or services. I don’t want to ask anyone for anything.”

  She dropped the pen to the desk and lifted her chin. “Maybe that’s your problem.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that yo
u’re trying to get through this difficult part of your life by yourself—by putting a wall up between you and everyone else.”

  He arched a dark eyebrow. “I let you in.”

  “No, you didn’t. I made my own way past your walls in spite of you.”

  “This is my life, my choices—not yours.”

  She glared at him. “And this is my fund-raiser and I’m telling you that there will be a Chinese auction.”

  His voice lowered and rumbled with agitation. “Are you always so stubborn?”

  “My father says so, but I don’t believe everything he says.” She no longer believed what he said about Deacon.

  “And you’re going ahead with this auction no matter what I say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I won’t waste any more time trying to talk you out of it.” He muttered under his breath as he strode out the door.

  Something told Gaby that he regretted giving her that flower. But she wasn’t backing down. That was Deacon’s problem. When he growled, everyone backed away. He needed to learn that life was about give and take.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THERE WAS SOMETHING different about Gabrielle.

  Something not quite right.

  Deacon had kept his distance from her since their disagreement last week. He didn’t know exactly why he’d taken such a strong opposition to her idea of the Chinese auction. It wasn’t a terrible idea. He could think of much worse.

  He was left with no choice but to admit the truth to himself. He’d created the disagreement on purpose to put some distance between them. And it was all because of that rose and the other ones he continued to leave at her door each morning.

  He had mixed emotions about leaving her yellow roses. Part of him said that it was just a friendly gesture, but another part of him wanted them to mean more. And that made him uncomfortable.

  Logic said that there was a fifty-fifty chance he was responsible for the car accident. If he were responsible, Gabrielle wouldn’t want anything to do with him. But even if he were found innocent, would that really do much to change their circumstances? He was still the other party in a two-party accident.