The Wedding Diaries

by Linda Francis Lee

  Her father had spoken to the assembled masses, the people letting up a cheer. It was then that she looked at him, those pale gray eyes locking with his.

  “Hello,” she had whispered.

  “Hey.” He wanted to be cool, not show how he shook from the sheer beauty of her.

  Letting go of her father’s hand, she had taken a step toward him, all shiny black hair and eyes too large for her face. With her white gloved hands she had reached out. To him. His heart hammered in his chest.

  But just before she touched him, her father noticed.

  “Vivi, come back here,” he had demanded, his voice like a king’s.

  She hesitated for half a second, then sighed. When she returned to her father’s side, he shoved something into her hand and pushed her back. If Max hadn’t been so caught up in amazement that she was returning to him, he might have realized that she had a strange look in her eyes.

  “My father wants you to have this,” she whispered, her voice oddly strangled.

  Max’s young heart beat hard. But when she opened her hand, he saw the dollar. A handout.

  Anger, fury, and a biting embarrassment sizzled through Max. Until that moment he had never thought about his family’s circumstances. They didn’t have much, sure, but neither did anyone else he knew.

  In that second, Max had understood who he was to the outside world. A poor kid to be looked down at—or pitied. With a surge, embarrassment turned to burning pride, and he told himself he would not be pitied by anyone.

  “Keep your money. I don’t need it.”

  Max had worked a lifetime since then becoming who he was, the task made more difficult when he had to leave college to take care of his brothers and sisters. But he had done it, taking real estate classes at night after getting off from that very same plant in South El Paso where he had gone to work the day after his mother died.

  Once he sold his first property, he had quit Stansfield Manufacturing. Soon after, the plant closed for good. He had never looked back.

  But now the rich little girl had reappeared in his life. And he wished like hell he didn’t care that now she was the one who seemed to need the dollar.

  Chapter Four

  At exactly nine the next morning, Vivi dialed the bank’s number and asked for the president.

  “Conway Garnett’s office.”

  “This is Vivi Stansfield. Is Mr. Garnett there? It’s an emergency.”

  “Miss Stansfield, I was just going to call you. Conway wants you to come in to see him. There’s a problem with your account. I’d put you through now, but he’s out of the office until four this afternoon. Can you come in then?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  As soon as Vivi hung up, the phone rang, and she all but leaped out of the chair. Snatching up the receiver, she prayed it was her father.

  “Miss Stansfield, this is First Commons Visa calling in regard to your credit card bill. I see you spoke to customer service yesterday, but there is no date noted as to when you will be resending a new payment.”

  “I am terribly sorry for this,” she said. “I’ve only recently learned that something has . . .” What? What could she say? “There has been some sort of error. I will get to the bottom of the situation, and get back to you.”

  “But—”

  Vivi hung up. Within seconds, the phone started ringing again. This time it was a bill collector for the phone company. Next came El Paso Electric. After that she stopped answering. It wasn’t until she heard Grady’s voice come over the answering machine that she grabbed up the phone. “Grady, I’m here!”

  “So I can tell,” he said with a chuckle.

  She could hear the springs on his chair squeak as he leaned back in that way he had about him, so sweet and endearing, his light brown eyes brightening. She hated having to tell him about the mess she was in, especially given Sharon Willis. But she would tell him tonight at dinner.

  “I miss you, Grady.”

  “Good, good. Now tell me, how was the house that Racine took you to see?”

  “She stood me up,” she said.

  The chair gave a hard, jarring squeak. “Stood you up?”

  Vivi knew that Grady would consider that an insult to him. Which was fine with her, because she no longer had any interest in dealing with anyone at MBL Holdings— Racine or MBL himself. Max unnerved her. At least that’s what she told herself to explain how she had acted around him. Twice.

  Just the memory of walking through that stone tower, aware of every accidental brush, brought heat surging back in her cheeks.

  Not to mention the way she had broken down like a fishwife and told him her personal problems. Stansfields did not discuss anything personal. Ever. Not with each other. And certainly not with a perfect stranger.

  “I can’t believe it,” Grady said.

  “It worked out. Max Landry showed me the house instead.”

  Grady almost choked. “What? Max, as in the president of MBL?”

  “Yes.”

  Grady whistled. “This is an incredible opportunity for me to get a foothold into MBL. Call back and set something up. Bypass Racine. Go directly to Landry.”

  “I can’t do that!”

  “Sure you can. He’s an important contact. Get on the phone and make another appointment.” He hesitated, then softened his tone. “Please, Vivi, for me?”

  She knew he was doing what it took to get his way. This wasn’t the first time, and she kicked herself for falling for that boyish charm.

  “All right,” she conceded. “I’ll call.”

  “Good. Listen, I’ve got to go.”

  “Grady, wait. We’re still meeting for dinner, right?”

  The springs squeaked again. “Sorry, Vivi. I can’t make it. Got to work late. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. How’s that?”

  She started to protest, but realized there truly was nothing to say.

  “Fine.”

  Vivi would call Max, ask to see another property, talk about her fiancé right and left. But before that, at four on the dot, she’d go to the bank to find out what had gone wrong with her accounts. If she played her cards right, she thought suddenly, she could have this mess straightened out by the end of the day and Grady would never have to know.

  Feeling better, she found the number for the offices of MBL. But in a knee-jerk reaction, instead of asking for Max, she asked for Racine.

  “She’s not in the office today. Can I take a message?”

  “No.” She hesitated, then with no help for it, plunged ahead. “Is Max Landry there?”

  “Who’s calling, please?”

  She told the woman her name and hoped he wasn’t in. After a few clicks and beeps, Max picked up the line.

  “Vivienne?”

  Even the sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. So intimate and knowing. Like when his hand was pressed so innocently against her back.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, yes. I’m here.”

  Then another pause.

  “I asked for Racine, but she’s not in and . . . and I really need to find something sooner rather than later.”

  She remembered Max picking up the plastic cup at her feet. The brush of his jacket against her shin. The way he had stood, bringing them so close that she could feel the heat of him.

  “Actually, Grady,—my fiancé, Grady—wants me to find something ASAP,” she added quickly. “He asked me to call to set something up.”

  Max’s chuckle was low, and she imagined him leaning back in his thick leather chair, though there was no squeak of springs. He didn’t say a word.

  She plunged ahead. “Perhaps you . . . or another of your realtors, could show me something else.”

  “We just finalized a listing for a place close to downtown. I’m not sure that it’s exactly right, but it is smaller than the tower house.”

  “That’s fine. How about tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow I’m booked.”

  Relief mixed with disappointment, lea
ving her unsettled.

  “But I can meet you there this afternoon.”

  His words caught in her mind.

  “Oh.” Her pulse leaped. Foolishly she wanted to see him again, wanted to watch as his blue eyes lit with an unexpected smile.

  “At three,” he added.

  She imagined the way his lips curved wryly.

  “At three, then,” she answered.

  As she hung up the phone, she told herself she was overreacting. She was going to see a piece of property. Raising her chin, she added that she’d meet Max and it would be no big deal. He’d show her the place, she would talk about Grady, then she’d leave. Deed done, and her fiancé would be pleased.

  Two hours later, Vivi arrived at the address. It was a little after three, which would force her to hurry through the property in order to get to the bank on time. But when she got there, Max was nowhere to be seen.

  Good, she told herself with a nod as she waited at the main entrance of the building.

  Even better, she added silently ten minutes later when he still hadn’t shown up.

  With her heart pounding, feeling the need to escape, she fished her keys out from her handbag, then headed back to her car. But just when she thought she had made it, Max wheeled into the parking lot.

  The minute he stepped out, she experienced the same simmering awareness. His height, his broad shoulders. The power he exuded.

  He looked at her, just looked, his eyes dark. There were no smiles, no polite greetings, just a hardness that made her think he didn’t understand why he was there.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said finally, suddenly every inch the professional. “I got caught up with the principal from the high school.”

  “Showing another house?”

  “No.” He glanced off in the distance, then she would have sworn he sighed. “Discussing one of my sisters. But we aren’t here to talk about Nicki. Come on, let’s have a look upstairs.”

  The building was beautiful and old, standing on the border between Texas and Mexico, on the banks of the Rio Grande. They took an antique elevator to the fifteenth floor, the carved wooden doors sliding open directly into a two-story entryway. Cathedral windows lined the walls, one facing east, the other facing west.

  The space was stunning, quaint but open at the same time. For half a second she forgot about Max and reveled in the beauty as the sun spilled through the tall windows. But then he came up beside her, and the same aggravating awareness slid down her spine.

  It was all she could do not to turn into his heat and press close to the hard contours of his body. She didn’t understand the attraction, didn’t understand how again and again he made her feel like someone she was not.

  Yes, he was a sensually handsome man. But just one look left no doubt that he had nothing to do with the white-picket-fence sanity and normalcy she sought in her life.

  He was raw energy, and she wanted calm.

  He was demanding; she wanted ease.

  “I love it up here,” he said, completely unaware of what she was feeling.

  “Interesting,” she said, stepping away.

  He seemed to shake himself out of wherever he had been. “It belongs to a friend of mine who’s been transferred to Houston. He wants to rent it, but he’s willing to sell if the price is right.”

  “There you go again with the game show theatrics.”

  He glanced at her, and she would have sworn his tight control slipped just a notch.

  “Guilty,” he offered. “Come on, let me show you around.”

  He did, telling her about the square footage, the energy-saving insulation, the double-paned windows. She followed along, forcing herself to listen. She made a point of staying a good yard away from him. When he stopped, she made sure she didn’t stand too close. When he continued on, she didn’t follow until he had taken at least two steps. At one point, he looked back at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Me?” She scoffed too loudly. “Of course I am. Why would you ask?”

  “Last night. At Bobby’s Place.” He shrugged. “You didn’t seem so fine then.”

  She waved the words away. “That was last night. I was tired. I vented. I’m completely embarrassed today. I made a mountain out of a molehill. It’s nothing really.”

  “You talked to your fiancé?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to the bank after I leave here to straighten everything out. I don’t need Grady’s help. Though . . . though Grady would help if I asked.” She remembered her promise to interject mention of her fiancé at every turn. “He’s a very smart man and . . . and . . . handsome.”

  Max looked at her as if she had grown a second head. “Let me show you the rest.”

  She continued behind him, gabbing away about Grady. Grady this. Grady that. Unlike the first day, today her brain had actually kicked in and reminded her that she was engaged. In the living room, she told Max about Grady’s most recent case—which she pretty much had to make up since Grady never talked to her about work no matter how many times she asked.

  In the dining room, she told him about her and Grady’s favorite restaurant, though in truth the only one they ever went to was one close to Grady’s office. She didn’t even particularly like it, and Grady rarely commented on the food since he usually spent his time on the cell phone. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Max Landry.

  In the den, staring at a wall of television and stereo equipment, her enthusiasm for her “perfect” relationship starting to dim, she only managed to mumble something about her and Grady’s favorite song.

  By then Max was looking at her as if she had lost her mind. And she must have, since she realized she and Grady didn’t even have a favorite song. She didn’t even know what kind of music he liked. Pop? Rock? Country or blues?

  She blinked in surprise at the realization, causing her to lower her guard. And when Max halted in the doorway of the kitchen, she didn’t think to stop until she found herself in the Spanish arch with him, leaving her with no protection against the surge of heat that rushed along her skin.

  Standing there, she forgot Grady as she stared at Max’s chest, at the buttons of his shirt, stared so hard that she could make out the tight weave of the starched white material. Seconds ticked by and neither of them said a word.

  Finally, she glanced up, and he looked at her with an expression as vulnerable as she felt. Vulnerable and confused by the intensity that filled the room like an electrical charge.

  “This is the kitchen,” he said quietly.

  “It’s beautiful,” she stated, though she hadn’t bothered to look.

  “The appliances are top of the line.”

  “That’s good. I love to cook.”

  “You do?”

  Vivi focused. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m famous for my chicken Kiev, and my veal Cordon Bleu has made grown men melt like butter.”

  “How are you with burgers?”

  She watched the way his lips moved on the words. “What?”

  “You know—burgers, fries, hot dogs. Picnic food.” He hesitated. “You’ve been on a picnic, haven’t you? Barbecue and beer? Softball?”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  He raised a brow, every trace of vulnerability gone.

  “Okay, not really.”

  “Not your sort of party, I take it.”

  The sound of his disdain registered through the murkiness in her head and she met his gaze. “I’ve never been invited to one.”

  Even his implacable features couldn’t hide his surprise. “You don’t know what you’re missing. They’re a lot of fun.”

  A boyish light brightened his features, and for a second he didn’t look like the ruthless man who got whatever he wanted. He seemed less forbidding, approachable.

  She felt disoriented by the change in him, and every sane thought she had disappeared. Her palms grew clammy, and her heart raced as his gaze drifted to her lips. But it wasn’t heat that she saw in his eyes. The boyish approachability
evaporated, replaced by more of the same confusion, as if he didn’t understand how he found himself here, again, with her, in this strange dance of awareness.

  Flustered, she turned to leave, but his hand slipped around her arm. They both stared at his fingers that curled gently around her flesh, his skin with its light tan looking dark compared to the pale white of hers. Then they glanced up at the same time, their eyes meeting.

  His brow furrowed, his gaze growing stormy.

  “I’m sorry, but this isn’t right,” she managed.

  “What isn’t?”

  “The apartment, of course, the apartment.”

  They stood that way, neither of them moving, her breath caught, his hand on her arm.

  “If you change your mind,” he said, “I’ll be at the office.”

  Startled, she tugged away, then mumbled something about having to go. Pivoting on her toes, she pressed the elevator call button, then sent up a prayer of thanks when the old wooden doors rattled open. But when she turned back, she caught a glimpse of Max standing there, watching her. For a moment she had the very clear thought that he had started to reach out and would have pulled her back to him if the doors hadn’t finally slid closed.

  Chapter Five

  Clutching the steering wheel, Vivi tossed caution to the wind and drove thirty-nine in a thirty-miles-an-hour speed zone.

  She was on her way to Grady’s office. She was hot, but it was a heat born of guilt. She had wanted to kiss Max. Again. She wished he had pulled her back, had let his lips graze over hers.

  Vivi groaned, then jumped when an impatient driver gave her a good blast with his horn, then groaned once more at the thought of how she had totally humiliated herself in front of Max Landry.

  Forcefully, she pushed Max from her mind. Which left her with thoughts of Grady.

  She needed to see her fiancé. She needed to make up for having such inappropriate thoughts about another man. But there was more to it than that. She needed to ask him what kind of music he liked. Learn his favorite food. Find out his middle name.

  How could she not know his middle name?