by Scott, Lisa
Elizabeth glared at them. “You guys made a bet whether or not I’d be interested in Debbie’s nephew?” Her jaw clenched and her stomach tumbled. Elizabeth knew she was pathetic in the love department, but did everyone else think so, too?
“I was so sure you’d say no we didn’t even wait for him to show up.” Theresa shrugged. “Sorry. I needed some weekend cash, you were an easy pick.” The diamond stud in her nose twinkled under the lights.
“I thought you’d at least want to meet him.” Debbie shook her head. “I’m going to have to give up my Starbucks next week to cover this.” A crumpled twenty made its way over to Theresa. She looked at Elizabeth. “And you’re no closer to a date, kiddo.”
Elizabeth stood up and collected her things. It took a moment to push the knot of emotion in her throat back where it belonged. “I think you guys have things under control. I’ve got an early appointment tomorrow.”
“Ooh, like a brunch date?” Theresa cooed.
“No,” she said too quickly. “It’s not a date. I’m house hunting. I’ll see you Monday.” She walked away.
“Elizabeth!” Debbie called after her in a harsh whisper. “Dave’s still here and you know the rumors.”
She spun around and went back to the table. Debbie loved gossip more than Friday morning bagels, but her information was always right. “What?”
“You haven’t heard?” She pursed her lips and her eyes darted around the room. “The PR department might be included in the budget cuts. The board thinks we’re overstaffed.”
Normally, Elizabeth would have scooted right back to her seat to learn more. And she would’ve busied herself with something, certainly after news like that, especially with her boss still on hand.
But she pictured herself with puffy eyes and dark circles saying hello to Henry the next morning and shuddered. “It’s been a long week. I’ll leave my cell on if you need me.”
Debbie looked at the main entryway and smiled. “My nephew just got here.”
Elizabeth waved goodbye.
“Well, I tried.” Debbie shrugged. “Maybe there will be some nice fellas at the scholarship fundraiser next Saturday. It’s formal, so dress real nice, hon.”
Elizabeth shut her eyes. “Of course. I’ll be there. Dressed nice.”
“And all alone,” Theresa said, not quite under her breath.
When was the last time she hadn’t come to a formal event alone? She was the only one who didn’t bring a date to those things.
She had almost reached the doors when she saw Dave making a beeline in her direction. Swearing to herself, she turned to him and smiled.
He crossed his arms and stood in front of her “On your way home?” His blonde hair was cropped short and he towered over her, almost a foot taller at six-foot four. He was perpetually tan even in the dead of winter, and most of the girls in the office would give up chocolate for life for a chance to go out with him. But not her. Which was probably why he wanted her.
“Yes, hope that’s okay. Debbie has things under control.”
“Absolutely. Things are winding down. I’m headed home, too.” He looked at his watch. “What do you say we grab a drink?”
Inwardly, she groaned. At least she hoped it was in her head. “I really can’t. I have an early appointment. And I’m beat after this week.”
“Of course.” He shrugged and grinned, like her was doing her a big favor. “One of these days. See you Monday.”
“Bye, Dave.” She pushed through the doors and let out the breath she’d been holding. If she was even the slightest bit savvy, she could parlay his interest into a raise or a promotion or at least an ergonomic chair. Her phone rang as she stepped out into the crisp night air. “Hello?”
“Is a confetti cannon too much? You know after the church?” Julie asked.
Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose and looked up at the moon. “Way too much.”
“Doves? That would be cute, right?”
“What about rice? Bubbles? Bells? You know, something normal.”
Julie sighed. “I don’t want normal. I want something special.”
This was going to be a long six months until the wedding. “You’ve got something special. A guy who loves you. Not everybody has that, you know.”
“You didn’t say no to doves, though.”
“Fine. Doves might be nice, as long as there’s a no-bird-turd guarantee. That would be special, right?”
“I’ll have to look into that. Night, Elizabeth.”
“Good night.” She found her car in the parking lot, unlocked it and climbed inside. Her phone rang again and she thought about ignoring it, but Julie would just call back. “I’m not rethinking my stance on the confetti cannon or the dove poop.”
“Elizabeth?” It sounded like Henry.
Her cheeks warmed and she cleared her throat. “This is Elizabeth.”
“It’s Henry. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, I’m sorry I thought you were my sister with the wedding question of the hour. What’s up?”
“I had an appointment cancel earlier, and I thought maybe you’d like to check out one of those restaurants on your sister’s list. I’ve also got a few new listings to look over. I called Alex’s on Main Street, and they have tables available. If you haven’t eaten yet.”
“No. Great,” she said too quickly. “I mean I’m starving. I just left work and that’s not too far away from the university.”
“Perfect. Shall we meet at Alex’s in ten minutes?”
“Sure. I look forward to seeing you. And your printouts. And listings.” She hung up before she could say anything else stupid. She pulled out her lipstick and applied a fresh coat, ran her fingers through her hair and wished there was a way to turn down her hormones and crank up her sensibility.
“So, what is a confetti cannon?” Henry asked, pulling out her chair.
A laugh slipped out. “Just one of the ludicrous things my sister is considering for her over-the-top, has-to-be-perfect wedding.” She smoothed her napkin on her lap. “And don’t even ask about the doves.”
The waiter came over with a bottle of wine, and gave Henry a sip to sample. “That’s good,” he said, then frowned. “Sorry, I should have let you pick it out after hearing your tea order the other day.” He did a bad job trying to stifle a laugh.
“A comedian and a realtor, how do you manage it?”
“It’s true, not everyone can make it work.” He grinned at her while he poured her a glass of Chardonnay.
“This place seems nice,” she said.
“How did you get roped into doing all the work for your sister?”
“I’m the maid of honor.” Swirling her wine in her glass helped slow down the jitters that showed up every time she was around this guy. “And my mom died quite a few years ago, so I’m kind of pulling double duty on this one. I’m happy to do it, though she is going a bit overboard.” She pinched two fingers together in a teeny-tiny gesture.
Henry leaned back and fingered the stem of his wineglass. “I don’t get bridezillas.”
“No, no she’s not like that.” The ceiling seemed like a safer place to look than his eyes. “It’s just that so many bad things happened—first my mom died, then my dad moved out west, remarried and had kids. It was like he was starting part two of his life.”
“And you guys were left behind.”
She nodded, conceding the point and reached into the breadbasket. “I think for Julie, this wedding is a chance to make everything in her life absolutely perfect, because it hasn’t been in a long time.”
He looked at her. “Kind of like a meticulous checklist for a house.”
She pointed a breadstick at him. “Not the same. I want to make sure I get the perfect house. It’s…totally different. Totally.” Lord, she sounded like a valley girl. She shut up, realizing her list did sound ridiculously the same. Time for a subject change. “I just hope she loves her fiancé. She doesn’t talk much about him, just the wedding
plans. I’d hate to see her make a mistake.”
“And if she does?”
She looked at him like he’d sprouted horns and a tail. “That would be horrible. She’d be divorced. Heartbroken.”
“But she could move on. People do. Look at your dad.”
She fiddled with her fork. “Some people can’t.”
“Why not? Life has it’s up and downs. Good and bad. You just keep moving along.” He made it sound so easy.
She shook her head. “How can you ever trust your heart again when it had been so wrong? When you just know that you love someone and you’re certain they love you…and then…” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “Some people must have a bounce-back gene. Like you. But I don’t think Julie does. And I sure don’t.”
“I don’t know about that.” He reached his hand across the table and his fingers brushed hers. “You’ve been through a lot, and you’ve done great. I think you’ve got some bounce in you.”
She stared into his eyes, uncertain what to say. Her fingers felt glued to the table next to his. Then, their food arrived. She pulled her hand back and fiddled with the napkin in her lap. The garlic and herbs wafting from her plate was a good distraction from the knot in her throat. Was there anything a good meal couldn’t fix? “This chicken smells divine.”
Henry was already working on his steak. He stabbed a piece and held it across the table. “You want divine, try this.”
With a flutter in her tummy, she stared at him and pulled the meat off the fork with her teeth. She closed her eyes and chewed. “Incredible.”
One corner of his mouth curled up. “I like it, too. Everything about this.”
***
If it was possible, he found her even more appealing. Seemed to happen each time they got together. And how many more times was he going to see her? This could get tough at the rate things were going. Even so, while they waited for their coffee—and tea—a pianist starting playing, and he stood up and held out his hand. “Let’s dance.”
“Oh, no. I’m not…I can’t.”
“Well, it’s on my checklist of things to do, so come on. I’m sure your sister would appreciate a review of their dance floor.” And it was a perfect excuse to get close to her, which he’d been thinking about all damned night.
“Nice. Playing the maid of honor card.” She planted a hand on her hip and stood up, and he pulled her out to the dance floor. “Suppose I should practice up for the big day.” She sighed and her chest brushed against his.
He slid his hand across her back and brought her even closer. He’d have to leave a hefty tip for the piano player to thank him for this opportunity.
“I know this song,” she said. “Just can’t think of the name.”
“Clair de Lune. ”
“Impressive.”
“Six years of piano.” He spun her and lowered her into a dip.
Her wide-eyed look was priceless. “And apparently a few years of dance lessons, too.”
“Yep. Both on account of my mother.” He pulled her back up. “I think she fancied having these cultured boys instead of the hellions we were. She signed me up for ballroom dancing lessons when I was fourteen, and I thought she was punishing me for something I’d done. Only, I couldn’t figure out what it was.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Trouble maker, huh?”
“I got away with a fair amount of stupidity. But once I saw my two younger brothers suffer through the same thing, I knew my dancing years weren’t on account of any hijinx she uncovered.”
“You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.”
Sometime…like another time. Together. He’d like that.
She lifted one shoulder. “I think it was sweet of her.”
“I think she just wanted to be sure she looked good dancing with her sons at their weddings. Look how that turned out. Not a marriage between us yet. Now we have to endure the occasional teary phone call about having no grandchildren, and never having been able to plan a wedding.” Normally the very thought gave him shudders. Not tonight, though. Weird.
“We should hook her up with my sister. That could benefit us both.”
He laughed and dipped her again as the song ended. They got a smattering of applause from the diners. Henry was glad for the reminder they had an audience. He’d been thinking about kissing her; that’s how far out of hand things had gotten.
They headed back to the table, when a man approached them. “I guess you caught your second wind, Elizabeth. I didn’t know you were such a lovely dancer. You’ll have to give me a turn at the event next week.”
Elizabeth stared at her shoes.
Henry stuck out his hand. “Henry Watson.”
“He’s my realtor. Henry, this is my boss, Dave.”
Dave shook his hand, not taking his eyes off Elizabeth.
“He called right after we talked to go over some print outs,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s what it looked like.”
“I sort of forced her onto the dance floor. But now we really should get back to looking over those properties,” he gestured to the stack of papers on the table that they hadn’t even glanced at yet.
“Please, don’t let me keep you,” Dave said, taking a step back to let them sit down.
“It was nice meeting you,” said Henry.
Dave didn’t return the sentiment. “I’ll see you Monday, Elizabeth. Happy house hunting.”
“Good night, Dave.”
They watched him walk away. “So, your boss has a thing for you?”
“What? No. I don’t think so.” She looked so cute as she tried to protest it.
He reached for her hand and squeezed. “Can’t say I blame him. Hope you don’t share the same feelings. Guy seems like an ass.”
She laughed. “You said it, not me.”
Even though she raised holy hell, he paid the bill and walked her to her car. “This was fun. I’ll bring those print outs tomorrow, since we didn’t get a chance to look them over. You ready for all those houses?” He took a step toward her and resisted the urge to set his hand on her hip like they were back on the dance floor. “All six of them?”
She took a little step back and looked up at him. “I’m not sure,” she answered, in a breathy voice. “But I’ll be there.”
“Looking forward to it.” He opened her car door for her and knew it was going to be a long night. Alone.
Chapter 4
With outfit number three strewn on the bed, Elizabeth slipped a sweater over her head, frowned in the mirror, and took it off. She wasn’t entirely sure how to dress for a Saturday morning real estate showing that threatened to be a whole lot more. Six. She rolled her eyes remembering his flub from the other day and the way he joked about it the night before. Not that her mind hadn’t wandered there, too. She tugged on another shirt. But those feelings hadn’t been around in a long while. Kinda like a stray cat that hadn’t come begging for food in quite some time. She needed to close the door and shoo it away.
She looked at herself in the mirror. The pale green she was wearing played up her eyes and was cut in a flattering v-neck. She didn’t own much that wasn’t conservative and professional—besides yoga pants and PJ’s. She didn’t realize how uptight her wardrobe had become. Julie never would have allowed it if she still lived in town.
She nodded at herself in the mirror and drove to the first house. She pulled up in front of the pretty colonial on a quiet street ten minutes early, hoping to have a few moments to review her checklist—and to steady her heart. But Henry was already there. She gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath. You’re here for the house, not the man. She took an even deeper breath.
Henry leaned against his car and waved. He wore dark jeans and a light blue shirt. His dark hair curled around the collar. Perfect length to wrap around her finger and tug… She grabbed her stuff and climbed out of the car, while he crossed the street to greet her.
“Good morning. You hungry? I picked up some croissants and coffe
e.” He held up a little white bag. “Well, coffee for me, tea for you. I’m not ready to jump on that bandwagon yet.”
And there went her heart a-thumping again. You’re his client. Of course he’s pulling out all the stops. “Thank you. I like croissants very much.”
“How about chocolate croissants?”
He’s good. “Those, I love.”
He grinned. “I had a feeling you might.”
“Really?” she asked, a bit surprised. “What made you think that?” She slung her purse over her shoulder and gripped her clipboard. She should have been wearing a hard hat and a life vest. The daylight didn’t make this feel any less dangerous.
He walked closer and she backed up against her car. He handed her a Styrofoam cup. “I’m trying to get in touch with what you really like. Besides making checklists and planning other people’s weddings, that is.”
“Ha, ha.”
“No, really. I’ve been trying to figure out what you want. And I’ve been thinking…” He came another step closer, then paused and scrunched his eyebrows together. “You want a refuge. A retreat. Like the other day when you said you didn’t know how to unwind.” He pointed a finger at her. “You’re looking for a comforting place to escape, I think.” He rested one hand on the car next to her. “And what’s more comforting than a warm, chocolate croissant to start things off?”
She held her clipboard against her chest as all his words tumbled into place. It was appealing. All of it. “Not bad, Mr. Watson.” Maybe he could help her find the right home. But that’s all, she reminded herself, despite that stray cat still slinking around.
He opened the pastry bag and brought a croissant to her mouth. “Since your hands are full,” he explained with a shrug.
Her breath hitched and she swallowed it back. “Right.” She pressed her lips together, then parted them and closed her eyes. Her teeth sink into the decadent treat. “Mmm.” The rich, flaky pastry melted on her tongue. “Yes.” She took another bite and chewed slowly. “Oh, my.” She finished chewing and swallowed. “That was great.” Opening her eyes, she licked a few sugar crystals off her lip and looked up at him. “Thanks.”