“Is that a Carson wedding tradition?”
Dev laughed. “No. She doesn’t need it now that she’s getting married and I do.”
“Well, the bare metal frame you’ve got upstairs has its own charm, I suppose, but you’re probably right. Must be some bed if you’re prepared to haul it all the way down from Newport.”
“She claims it’s special.”
“How?” She wrinkled her brow. “Does it have a vibrator in it or something?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “You’ll have to ask her when you meet her.”
“I can see it now. ‘Nice to meet you. Let’s talk about that bed of yours.’”
“You want to talk about my bed?” he asked, sweeping her close.
“Well, now that you mention it,” she whispered against his mouth.
13
TAYLOR YAWNED AS SHE STUDIED the paperwork before her. Negotiating discount agreements with resort chains wasn’t exactly scintillating stuff, but it was vital to her business. If she closed on this one, which involved many of the properties she’d visited weeks before, she’d be able to offer her clients juicy rates and some of the most gorgeous properties around.
Including Cozumel. Her eyes softened and she reached across her desk to touch the tiny furled shell Dev had given her as she left the resort. Nearly a week had passed since they’d rekindled their romance, and if anything she’d had even more fun than she had in Mexico. They packed the days with work, the nights with fun and passion. She’d had nearly everything she could want.Except sleep.
She yawned again as the light flashed on her phone and she picked up the handset. “Taylor DeWitt.”
“Alan Champlin here.”
She blinked at the name of her competitor and would-be buyer. “Hi, Alan, how are you?”
“Not as good as you must be. I understand congratulations are in order.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Pace-Miller as a corporate client? Your agency is moving up in the world.” He sounded amused and just the slightest bit envious.
“We’re pleased with it.” And she’d have bet her bottom dollar that Champlin Travel had gone after Pace-Miller with everything they had. The fact that she’d won out, even against the resources of the glossy chain gave her a warm glow of satisfaction.
“You’ve been sitting on my offer for six weeks.”
“You told me to take my time and think about it. I have.”
“And?”
She sighed. As much as she’d been tempted by the idea of school and trying something different, she knew she needed to stick with the agency.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to decline.”
“It’s a generous offer. Do you mind me asking why?”
She paused. Tempting though Champlin’s offer was, it would make her a little cog in a vast machine. Running an office in a mall somewhere hardly compared to running her own agency and being free to take risks and shoot for bigger things. “I guess I’m happier being my own boss.”
“You’d be in a position of authority,” he hastened to point out. “You could run that unit you’re in now, or even several locations.”
But that would just be people management, not the wheeling and dealing she craved. “I like what I’m doing now,” she said, choosing her words carefully. It didn’t do to forget that she was talking to a competitor.
“What do you like about it? What do you want to make this package go? No guarantees, but it would help me to know.”
Taylor searched for diplomacy. “Look, Alan, thanks for your interest, but I think I’m more likely to do the type of work I enjoy at my own agency.”
“You’re getting more and more involved with the corporate clients,” Champlin said thoughtfully.
“I’m really not comfortable having a strategy conversation with you.”
“Just tell me this,” he persisted. “If I come up with a different offer, will you at least listen to it?”
“Boy, you really are desperate for this location, aren’t you,” she laughed.
“Can you blame me? But I also want you on board. You know how to get the job done.”
The compliment gave her a little buzz of pleasure before she tamped it down and glanced at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. “I appreciate your interest, Alan, really, but understand that I’m not fishing here. I’m happy with what I’m doing.”
“All I’m asking is will you listen?”
She sighed. “Sure, I’ll listen.”
“Great. Have a good week, then.”
Taylor hung up the phone feeling strangely unsettled. She walked to the door of her office and leaned against the doorjamb, staring out at the nearly finished space. It looked clean and professional, with her trio of agents behind their desks. Nicole had what looked like a young stockbroker sitting in her visitor chair, leafing through a brochure as she quoted him numbers. It was a success, and she’d built it up from scratch.
Maybe her family was right about her, she thought gloomily. Building a successful business wasn’t enough. She craved new challenges. Turning her back on the agency wasn’t possible, though, not if she wanted to hold on to her self-respect. She couldn’t just quit again, and yet she itched to stretch herself beyond what she’d already accomplished. She craved a job that had her engaged every single day when she came in, and now that the agency was ticking along, it no longer quite fit the bill.
She sighed and went back to her desk. The thing to do was focus on what worked and resign herself to the rest, she thought, toying with the shell again.
And in the meantime, jump Dev Carson’s bones as often as possible.
RILEY PARKED HIS TRUCK behind the scarred tan construction trailer and got out. The gutter was littered with gravel, bits of cement and Sheetrock. They’d need to sweep up the street when they finished the job the following week, he thought, heading for the trailer before starting onto the job site to look for Dev.
The cell phone on his belt tweeted and vibrated. He glanced at the display, shuddering as he saw his mother’s number. It was a conversation he had no desire to have.It was a conversation he couldn’t avoid.
“Caldwell,” he said briefly.
“I’ve left messages for you at work, I’ve left messages for you at home. What does a person have to do to get in touch with you?”
“I was going to call you, Ma,” Riley protested.
“Don’t you try that one on me. I paged you twice yesterday and you didn’t answer. If your secretary hadn’t given me this number, I’d still be tracking you down. What have things come to when a mother has to get her son’s cell phone number from his secretary, that’s what I’d like to know.”
Ignoring her was the safest course, he thought. “So how are things?”
“Depends what things you mean. Your father and I are fine. You forgot to send your niece a birthday card, by the way.”
He closed his eyes and cursed mentally. “I’ll send one off today.”
“That doesn’t fix it.”
“Ma, Stephanie just turned a year old. The card isn’t for her, it’s for Elaine.”
“Well, obviously,” she said in a tone that said she was doubting his intelligence. “Stephanie can’t read yet.”
He sighed. “Is that what you called about?”
“No, I called to find out what you’re doing about your cousin.”
“Nothing, right now.”
“You know she’s crying her eyes out over that clod you’re in business with? Your uncle’s about ready to come over and give him a piece of his mind.”
“Ma, it’s between Melissa and Dev. Tell Uncle Carl to keep out of it.”
“Well, that’s what I keep telling him. Do you know how much they lost in deposits alone on that wedding? In my day, young men didn’t call off their engagements without an explanation to anyone. It’s outrageous.”
“I’m sure Melissa knows what it’s about, Ma,” Riley said with a sinking heart
.
“And what would that be? She says she doesn’t have the first idea. It’s tearing her to pieces.”
“It’s between them. I don’t know and I don’t want to know,” he lied. It wasn’t entirely a lie, actually. He didn’t want to know, except that he’d been in the hall behind Dev when his friend had opened the door to discover Melissa and her paramour in flagrante delicto.
His mother gave a harrumph. “You could ask. You could talk to the man. Melissa is just a mess over this. Lord only knows why, but she wants him back, or at least to know why. It seems to me that a cousin who cared about family might at least talk with his friend and try to do something about it.”
Riley rubbed his forehead. “Ma, I can’t tell him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”
“I’m not saying you have to tell him to do anything. Maybe just get them together. If it really is love, that’s all it will take.”
“It’s not my place.”
“Blood is thicker than water, Riley Kendall Caldwell,” she said sharply. “That’s the way I raised you.”
“Ma,” he protested.
“Don’t you ‘Ma’ me. You do your duty by your family and that’s final.”
The click left him holding the phone and cursing in the street.
14
NOISE, A CROWD. These were her first impressions. The long, narrow room was lined with warm wood and dotted with vintage movie posters. At the back, the room opened up to a space where a band played hard and nasty roots rock to the delight of the surging mass of people on the dance floor. Those of the hip, youngish crowd not dancing clustered around small tables or standing along the walls, leaned on the scarred wooden ledges. Behind the bar, the staff shoved bottles and glasses across the polished wood as fast as customers could order them.
“Welcome to Bad Reputation,” Dev shouted.“You own this?” Taylor asked.
He shook his head. “My sister does. I just threw some money in to help her get started.”
A brass bell clanged and Taylor looked toward the bar to see a frankly stunning brunette kneeling on the bar chug down a pint glass of beer while the circle of people around her clapped and egged her on. When she finished it, she clasped her hands over her head like a prize fighter.
“Where’s your sister?” Taylor asked.
A grin flashed across his face. “Well,” he began.
Just then, the woman looked up. With a whoop, she jumped off the bar and pushed her way through the crowd to throw her arms around Dev’s neck and give him a smacking kiss. “Where have you been? I expected you hours ago.”
Dev laughed. “Taylor DeWitt, meet my sister, Mallory.”
THE REDHEADED BARTENDER named Fiona poured drinks for them as they leaned on the bar. “So I thought, Mallory go to her wedding day without a hen night? ’Tisn’t right,” she explained, her Irish accent making the words dance. “So we decided to make it spur of the moment.”
“Hen night?” Taylor repeated blankly, taking the beer that Fiona handed her.“Bachelorette party,” Mallory supplied over Fiona’s shoulder. “Ignoring the fact that the bar’s open for business.”
“Well, then, you’d be at a public bar if it were a regular bachelorette party, then, wouldn’t you?” Fiona replied smartly.
“But I wouldn’t be trying to run it at the same time.”
“She’s a little bit of a control junkie,” Dev put in genially, reaching out for his own beer.
“I’ve seen that, to be sure,” Fiona said. “So she can’t trust us to run it for her while she has a last celebration?”
“It’s been about six years since I’ve gotten drunk, Fiona,” Mallory said dryly. “I don’t intend to start again two days before my wedding.”
“I guess you’ll have to pace yourself, then, won’t you? Now go round and talk to your brother and his guest,” Fiona admonished. “We’ll tend to things.”
Mallory hopped onto the bar, pivoted so her feet pointed out into the room, and landed in front of Taylor and Dev. “I’d say it’s not usually this much of a mob scene, but I’d be lying—thank God.” Behind her, the band broke into the cover of a Smashmouth tune.
“I like it,” Taylor said, unable to stop herself from swaying a little to the music. “It’s fun. I went to a bar about this crazy back when I lived in Providence, only we used to dance on the tables.”
Mallory’s eyes flashed with humor. “Well, we used to do our share of dancing on the furniture around here, too. You like dancing, stick around. These guys mostly do covers, but they’re fun. We’ll have to see if we can find you a partner.”
“Hey, I dance,” Dev put in.
Mallory sniffed. “Since when?”
“I can vouch for it,” Taylor put in.
“My brother?”
Taylor nodded. “He’s good at it. If they play the right kind of beat, we’ll have to get him to take you out there and spin you around.”
Mallory gave her a speculative look. “You don’t say. That sounds great,” she said with sudden warmth.
The next moment she was swept away by a dark-haired stranger with the look of a pirate. Since Dev didn’t seem inclined to jump him, she figured it was probably Mallory’s fiancé, soon to be her husband.
He and Mallory took their time getting reacquainted, but eventually they pried themselves apart and he shook with Dev. Then he turned to her, sticking out his hand. “Shay O’Connor.”
“Taylor DeWitt,” she said bemusedly.
Just then, Fiona stepped onto the bar, drawing whoops from the crowd and ringing the bell until everyone quieted down. “Thank you. Now, for those of you who don’t know, tonight is in the way of a celebration.” A chorus of whistles drowned out her words and she waited for them to end. “What I mean is that it’s more of a celebration than usual. Can we have the guest of honor up on the bar?”
Mallory rolled her eyes, but Fiona started a measured clap and others joined in until the whole room echoed with it. Dev pushed at Mallory’s shoulder. Finally she caved and climbed up on the bar next to Fiona to give an exaggerated bow.
“Now Mallory here, your proprietor, is getting married on Sunday,” Fiona announced gaily.
In the crowd, a guy in his mid-twenties threw his hand over his heart. “No, don’t do it,” he shouted.
“Anyway, we’re celebrating tonight,” Fiona continued, ignoring him. “And just so she doesn’t forget the roots of her success, we’ve got a special song for the bride-to-be.” She turned to point to the band and they swung into a cover of the Georgia Satellites’ “Keep Your Hands to Yourself.” Fiona turned to Mallory. “One last dance for the bride,” she shouted, and the room erupted.
The lyrics were the heart cry of a frustrated swain getting rebuffed repeatedly by an altar-bent girlfriend. As the infectious beat filled the room, more and more people on the floor began dancing. The other bartenders climbed up onto the polished wood and began swaying to the beat. Mallory pantomimed the story in her dance, verse after verse, laughing down at Shay, who stood at her feet.
Mallory sang, crossing her arms in front of her.
Shay put a hand over his heart.
But Mallory just tossed her head.
The room erupted as the band segued into another song. Taylor laughed and danced in place next to Dev. Then Mallory looked down at her and beckoned. “Get on up here and dance if you want to.”
Taylor glanced at Dev and Shay talking to one another. Why not, she thought. Why not? She stepped over to push herself up on the bar. Dev raised his eyebrows, then raised his glass to her. She stood up, swaying a little until she got her balance, and then began to snap her fingers and join the party.
THE MIDMORNING SUN the next day made Taylor glad she had her dark glasses. Not, of course, that she’d had more than a drink or two the night before, but dancing away the hours had taken it out of her more than she remembered. And what foolish humanitarian impulse had led her to volunteer herself and Dev to help get Shay’s tavern decorated for the rehearsal di
nner, she would never remember.
The warm, bright pub charmed her immediately. Sunlight streamed in through the enormous windows that ran around two walls. Whereas Mallory’s bar had the feel of youth and energy, this one held a quiet comfort and ease all its own.Or probably did on days when a handful of harried people weren’t trying to arrange chairs, smooth tablecloths, set out flowers, hang decorations and generally transform the room.
“We’ve almost got the garlands up,” Mallory said from where she stood on a chair, looking just the slightest bit tense to Taylor’s eagle eye. “Someone’s got to go get the wine, though.”
“It’s a pub,” Shay said mildly. “People are going to expect ale.”
“It’s a sit-down dinner,” she corrected distractedly, bounding down and moving her chair. “People are going to want the option of wine. Besides, we need the wine for the wedding dinner.”
He relented. “Dev and I can go get it while we’re out.”
Dev looked at him blankly. “When we’re out where?”
“Getting the tuxes. Did you think they were just going to appear on their own?”
Dev rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, hell, I forgot all about it.”
“I figured you did. Come on.”
“Hang on. Taylor, you want me to drop you off at the hotel?”
Mallory glanced up. “Leave her here with us. We’ll get her hanging garland and keep her entertained until you guys get back.”
“Taylor?”
How bad could it be, she thought. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine and I can always walk back to the hotel if I want.”
“She means if she decides she’s tired of being run about by a madwoman like Mallory,” Fiona put in.
“I’ll be fine,” she repeated.
“I STILL SAY THIS WOULD HAVE been more fun if we’d taken your bike,” Dev said as he got out of Shay’s truck in the parking lot of the tux shop.
Slippery When Wet Page 15