“I know what your name is,” Lenny said. “Missy is a term of endearment. So where are you from, Syd?”
She frowned and blinked, as if the question had taken her by surprise, but as any PR person worth her salt would do, she recovered quickly. “England, originally.”
“Did you grow up there?”
Her face shuttered and he could sense her backing away from the question. “No, I didn’t. Is there some Catering to Dallas business you would care to discuss this morning, Mr. Norton?”
She folded her hands on her desk and smiled at him, the perfect PR professional.
“Lenny. Call me Lenny. And don’t change the subject. Where did ya grow up?”
She raised a brow. “Why is that important?”
Lenny laughed. “Your accent is so upright and proper.” He said the last three words with what Miles guessed was a butchered British accent.
“I moved around a lot as I was growing up.” She looked down at her desk and shuffled more papers. “But I went to university at Oxford.”
Oxford. That explained it. This woman was just as smart as she was beautiful, he thought as she pulled a folder from a desktop holder and opened it.
She glanced up over the top of it and snared Miles’s gaze. A silent plea for help.
Miles cleared his throat. “So, Sydney, why don’t you tell us your vision for this idea that you mentioned the other day? I think it sounds like a story line we should consider.”
She shot him a silent thank-you with her eyes that seemed to go unnoticed by Lenny.
“That’s exactly what I have right here.” She lifted two pieces of paper out of the folder and pushed them across the desk. “I’ve outlined it for you.”
Lenny and Miles each took one and looked at what she’d written, but before either could say anything, she began going over her plan. “I see this as a way that Catering to Dallas can give back to the community. We give away a wedding reception to a bride who has done her own share of giving to the community. First, we will need to do a call for entries for local brides. We can do that locally, can’t we? There would be no reason to broadcast it to the entire nation if we’re just looking for women who are local.”
Miles took a pen out of the holder on her desk and jotted down a few notes about issuing a call for brides. They would need to produce that spot ASAP. “Yes, we can do that. We will make arrangements with the local station to air it. Since it might even be considered a public service announcement, we can see if they’ll run it several times during the day and evening. I admit that public service might be stretching it a bit, but there’s no harm in checking into it.”
Sydney nodded. “I’ll follow up on that this afternoon. Really, we are offering a public service because we’re looking to celebrate a local volunteer. We would be honoring and giving back to those who have already given to the community. To make the most of that, we could have a few finalists, maybe three, whom we would spotlight and highlight their service to the community. We post the finalists’ profiles on our website, the public can have a couple of weeks to vote and we can film us going to the winner’s house to inform her that she’s won the reception. What do you think?”
“It’s a great idea.” Miles tried to steer the conversation before Lenny could jump in and spend his two cents.
Plus, since Sydney was excited about this story line Miles fully intended to make the most of it so that if she did get that job offer she’d mentioned, she might reconsider—or at least stay for the duration of his stint on the show.
“I think this is a good opportunity to show some contrast,” Lenny said. “We could go with a ‘rich bride, poor bride’ theme.” He made air quotes with his index and middle fingers.
Sydney frowned, but Lenny didn’t give her time to speak. “That would be an angle that the community could appreciate,” he said. “Give away a wedding reception to a needy bride and contrast it with the Ronstead wedding. Rich Bride, Poor Bride can be our own version of Miss America Meets Honey Boo-Boo Child. The public will eat that up faster than cheese grits on a breakfast buffet. What do you think?”
Sydney held up her hand and miraculously Lenny stopped talking.
“I think it’s utterly horrendous,” she said. “I could never exploit a family’s financial misfortune, and I’d like to think that my business partners would back me on this. Besides, that misses the point entirely. This isn’t about a needy bride as much as it is about a selfless woman.”
She shot Miles a look and he read the help me out message she was sending. They were getting good at reading each other’s minds.
“Lenny, I have to agree with Sydney,” he said. “Capitalizing on the misfortune of a bride and groom who can’t afford a wedding just doesn’t feel like Catering to Dallas’s style.”
Lenny sat forward in his chair. His face had turned a light shade of pink. “Now, they would be aware of what they were signing up for. So it’s no skin off anyone’s nose.”
“I think we have a difference of philosophy here,” Sydney said. “It’s one thing to honor a bride and groom for service to the community, but it’s quite another to exploit the fact that they can’t afford a wedding. I would like to stick to my original plan as outlined on this piece of paper. This way it’s a win-win situation—a deserving couple gets the wedding of their dreams and Celebrations, Inc., looks good because we made it possible.”
Lenny shifted in his seat. He moved the beefy leg, of which the ankle had been balanced on the equally beefy knee of the other leg, putting both feet on the floor. As he did this, he reared back and adjusted his longhorn buckle, then huffed as he got to his feet.
“I don’t know about this,” he said. “Personally, I think the Rich Bride, Poor Bride angle works best. It’s more interesting. But let me think on it and talk to Aiden. Miles, you should sit in on that powwow, too.”
“I’ll be sure and do that,” Miles said as Lenny walked out the door with a scowl plastered to his ruddy face.
Once the dust had settled, Miles and Sydney sat looking at each other again. Sydney shook her head.
“Well, that was a first-class disaster. Rich Bride, Poor Bride. That is so demeaning. How could he do that to a young couple?”
“Don’t worry,” Miles said. “It’s not going to happen. I’ll talk to Aiden.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Again, another thread seemed to connect them, linking them, pulling them slightly closer. Miles liked the feel.
“So you do realize that since this is your brainchild, we’ll need to feature you on the show as you work to find your Celebration’s Bride?”
“Celebration’s Bride?” she asked and pursed her lips as if she were trying on the name. “I love that name. That’s what we could call the contest. However, I don’t want to be featured any more than I already am on the show. I have more than enough on-camera time, thank you very much.”
She was more than a little sassy, but she was humble, and as genuine as the Hope Diamond. Two more things on an ever-growing list of qualities that made her so appealing.
“No, you don’t have enough on-camera time,” he said. “Right after Aiden asked me to come and fill in, I watched all of the Catering to Dallas episodes that have already aired and my eye was constantly drawn to you. Sydney, I definitely want to see more of you.”
It was the strangest thing the way Miles’s words made Sydney’s stomach flutter and drop like she’d swallowed a swarm of winged creatures. They flew in formation in her belly.
She made a mental note to personally thank Aiden for bringing Miles into the Catering to Dallas family, but then she took the metaphorical black Sharpie in her mind and crossed the thought off the list with one bold, decisive stroke. Instead, she would thank Aiden for having the foresight and persuasion to get someone like Miles to fill in as interim director.
Because he wouldn’t be here for long. Neither would she.
Yes, kudos for Aiden were absolutely in order. But what was she going to do w
ith the butterflies in her stomach and the way her heart tended to switch to a staccato beat every time she caught Miles looking at her, which seemed to be more and more often each time she saw him?
The thing was, she liked it when his eyes were on her, despite the fact that he was her boss—even if it was for the short-term. He was too rooted in California—she wasn’t exactly sure what that even meant, but the sentiment seemed right and distracted her from the fact that he was too sexy, too cocksure of himself and too young for her. Five years her junior to be exact. At their age, it shouldn’t matter, but she was looking for all the reasons why not she could stack between them.
Her hands were in her lap and she could feel the moisture on them as she contemplated what he had just said. That he wanted to see more of her. Not to mention the suggestion that they ditch Lenny and get out of the office for coffee—and how she’d wanted to go. Obviously, it wasn’t just the thought of having the camera on her more than it already was that made her hot and bothered.
She rubbed her palms on her pants then fisted her hands so that her nails dug into her flesh. The sensation was a touchstone to help get her mind off the absurd possibility that there had been a double meaning in what Miles had said.
You know there was. It was as real as her rapid heartbeat.
It was the way he’d said it, despite the little voice inside of her head that warned that she was playing with fire, that now of all times was not the time to get distracted by physical attraction. Because she was already preoccupied with the possibility of moving back to St. Michel—and she’d told him her secret even before she’d told her best friends and co-workers….
Still, despite good sense and propriety, she heard herself saying to him, “You want to see more of me? Is that strictly professional…or personal?”
“Both,” he said.
Chapter Five
The rest of that day and the next, the shoot was fueled by a certain private chemistry between Sydney and Miles. Or maybe it wasn’t so private, as Sydney’s girlfriends kept casting her curious glances, but it was certainly fun. She justified the flirting because it seemed to draw something out of her that she’d never before experienced on camera.
After defending her against Lenny and getting Aiden to go along with the Celebration’s Bride contest title and story line rather than the ghastly Rich Bride, Poor Bride scheme, Miles seemed to also want his way so that the newest action on Catering to Dallas focused on Sydney planning the contest. She endured by going about her business and trying to pretend that the cameras weren’t there. She thought of it as taking one for the team.
Sometimes it wasn’t easy to completely forget about the cameras when a half dozen people piled into her small office with lights and reflectors, but just when she started feeling as if she’d had enough, she’d look up and see something in Miles’s eyes that would entice her through to the next scene.
What a racket, she thought, now that she was at home, getting her house and herself ready for the weekly Catering to Dallas staff tasting that they held every Thursday night to test new recipes and select new menu items to offer their clients and feature on the show.
Really, the weekly staff tasting had become a social occasion as much as a work event. After all, they were a bunch of foodies who were working on a food-related reality television show. This gave them a chance to get together after hours. They cooked, ate and drank together in a more relaxed atmosphere than the one that found them constantly caught in the glare of the lights and cameras in the pressure cooker of a television show.
They rotated houses each week and this time it happened to be Sydney’s turn to host. She was glad that for Miles’s first time at their weekly gathering she would be on her turf.
It had been a long time since she’d felt this discombobulated over a guy. It felt good and fun and a little overwhelming all at the same time. At least she would be in her own house on her own territory. That helped quell the nerves that had knotted up her stomach. The fact that she was nervous over a guy she’d just met was another anomaly. How long had it been? Since Henri Lejardin back before she left St. Michel. She’d had it bad for him, but his heart had belonged to Margeaux Broussard. Ironically, it was because of Margeaux that she’d met Pepper, A.J. and Caroline. So even if the woman had stolen Henri’s heart—well, stolen wasn’t exactly the right word, reclaimed was more appropriate, because Henri’s heart had never belonged to Sydney or any other woman except Margeaux.
However, Margeaux had been willing to share her friends with Sydney. These three women had become the closest thing to family Sydney had ever had.
How in the world was she going to tell them she was leaving— She stopped herself from worrying. The job in St. Michel wasn’t hers yet. She’d fret over goodbyes if and when that time came.
Right now, she had to set out plates, napkins, silverware and wineglasses. And she only had a few minutes to change clothes and get everything done.
She went upstairs and changed into a blue halter-top sundress. It was July, the scorching days of summer. If she did move back to St. Michel, the one thing she wouldn’t miss was the broiling Texas heat. While St. Michel was in the Mediterranean, thanks to the ocean breezes the heat wasn’t as brutal as central Texas in the dead of summer. Here, it was enough to melt the asphalt off the roads that stretched through the rolling plains and grasslands.
Her time in Celebration had been well spent. She would take a lot of good memories with her, but, she reminded herself, it was time to go. Regret knotted in the pit of her stomach, but it conflicted with the overriding feeling that she couldn’t alter her plans—especially plans centered around a dream job—for a man she’d just met, who might or might not be interested in anything beyond a fling.
As she filled a pitcher with ice and water, she thought about the questions Maya had asked her when she was in St. Michel for the interview: “What are you running from? What are you running to?”
Beyond the prospect of a good job, she couldn’t answer Maya. She still couldn’t. She would know it when she found it. In the meantime, that vague sense of restlessness goaded her along the path of discontent.
Miles’s face popped into her head. So did Maya’s words about someone special showing up for her in Texas. But Miles lived in California. There was nothing there for Sydney. He couldn’t be the one Maya had spoken of.
Sydney laughed to herself. Here she was thinking about the one when she didn’t even believe in all that soothsayer nonsense.
Her friends claimed that Maya had a special gift for bringing together soul mates. They even went as far as claiming it was Maya’s enchanted chocolate that had led them to their husbands. Sydney was a realist, not a romantic. She was a good-enough friend to play along since her friends were all newly married and still living in the honeyed glow of newlywed bliss. However, she knew better than to kid herself. She didn’t believe in soul mates, much less that someone could conjure a life mate with enchanted chocolate.
Besides, Maya hadn’t given her any magical sweets—unless she’d spiked the drinking chocolate they’d shared as they talked. But Maya had eaten from that plate, too. So wouldn’t the mojo do a number on the matchmaker, too? Unless she was immune?
The doorbell rang and pulled Sydney from her thoughts. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. Someone was ten minutes early.
Good, that just meant extra hands to help her finish getting everything ready. They weren’t a formal, fussy group so not being completely ready for the gang wasn’t that big of a deal.
As she made her way to the door, she vaguely hoped it might be Miles. As much as good sense warned her against it, she would’ve welcomed some time alone with him before everyone got there. Just some time to talk to him. Maybe to try and convince him that he really didn’t need to put quite so much focus on her during the Celebration’s Bride segments.
She opened the door and saw A.J. standing there with an exquisite bouquet of sunflowers and a box of candy.
Maya’s chocolate? Really? The coincidence that she’d just been thinking about Maya’s sweets and A.J. showing up on her doorstep with a box in hand gave her pause. Actually, it unleashed the darn belly butterflies that seemed to be her new pets these days, and made the hair on her arms prickle. Sydney crossed her arms in front of her and ran her hands down her forearms, smoothing down the silky hairs.
“I know I’m early,” A.J. said. “But I come bearing gifts.”
She thrust the offerings toward Sydney.
“Flowers and chocolate?” Sydney said dryly. “Have you come to court me?”
“You might say that,” A.J. replied.
Sydney narrowed her eyes at her friend as she accepted the presents, handling the box of candy gingerly, as if it might infect her with the same love sickness that seemed to be epidemic among her friends.
Sydney was happy for them. Really, she was, she thought as she peeked inside the box of chocolates.
“Come in, A.J., please, before you melt or before the chocolates melt and you let all the cool air-conditioning outside. Where’s Shane?”
“He’s out of town. He sends his regrets and his love.”
Shane Harrison was A.J.’s husband. They’d met two years ago when Shane had come to town on assignment with the army. It was love at first sight, and the two had happily settled into matrimonial bliss.
Since all of her previously single friends were now one half of a couple, the Thursday night tastings had expanded to include spouses and significant others.
“By the way, where exactly did you get a box of Maya’s chocolates?” Sydney asked, as she and A.J. made their way into the kitchen. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
A.J. looked at her like she had two heads. “At the corner convenience store.”
It was Sydney’s turn to give A.J. the hairy eyeball.
“Where do you think I got them?” A.J. said. “I ordered them. From Maya’s Chocolate Shop. In St. Michel. That is the only place one can get Maya’s chocolates.”
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