In the Mood for Love: A Cupcake Lovers Novel (The Cupcake Lovers)

by Beth Ciotta

  And she’d floundered because she loved him. True, genuine bone-deep love.

  Sitting at her desk in her bedroom, glancing out the same window Mary Rothwell had dogged day after day, Harper suddenly felt a sense of closure that had eluded the heartbroken World War II bride. Unlike with Captain Joseph Rothwell, Harper knew for certain Andrew wouldn’t be coming back. Turning back time wasn’t within her power, but cherishing the love they’d shared and honoring that love by embracing the good in life was. In that moment, she swore she felt Andrew hug her. Or maybe it was Mary.

  You can’t punish me anymore, Edward, because I’m done punishing myself. Andrew will always hold a special place in my heart, but my heart is big enough to make room for more special. I deserve special. Andrew said so once. It just took me a while to remember and believe.

  Her finger had hovered briefly over the send button. Had she made a sound and reasonable case? Did she believe what she’d written with her whole heart and soul?

  Yes.

  Teary-eyed and light-headed with serenity, Harper had sent the e-mail and slept through the night, dreaming first of Andrew and then of Sam. Sweet, hopeful dreams.

  As of this morning, Edward had yet to reply to Harper’s letter. If she was lucky, she’d never hear from him again. That thought had buoyed her all through the morning.

  That, and the presence of Sam.

  Harper hadn’t told him about Edward or the letter. She was enormously proud that she’d handled that crisis on her own. She was determined to move on. Excited to move on.

  With Sam McCloud.

  The man was a rock, a calming force, and today he’d been especially attentive. He’d touched her endlessly—her hand, her elbow, her shoulder, the small of her back, her thigh, her knee. Not in a sexual way, but in a caring way. Letting her know he was there, that she was safe. Gentle touches and long glances, infusing her with hope and calm. There would be no calamities, no snafus, no atrocities. They were flying to Vegas and they were going to have fun.

  Daisy must have said so at least a dozen times.

  Per Harper’s prearrangements, a limousine was waiting, and soon after landing everyone, sans the crew, climbed into the stretch transport. Sam squeezed in next to Harper, casually draping his arm across the seat behind her, speaking amiably with the only other two men who’d come along—Vincent, Daisy’s beau, and Helen’s husband, Daniel. While they’d discussed the desert landscape and climate, Harper checked in with the production crew for Brice and Kaylee.

  Minutes later they were sailing up the Las Vegas Strip and the senior Cupcake Lovers—Daisy, Helen, Ethel, and Judy—were gawking and oohing at the dazzling assortment of casinos and entertainment resorts. Some classic, some new. Some classy, some themed. A unique blend of opulence and cheese. So different from Norman Rockwell Sugar Creek.

  “Vegas,” Daisy said. “Viva Las Vegas. Gambling capital of the world. Hellooooo, Sin City!”

  Harper smiled as the animated woman pumped her bony fist in the air. Her exuberance was contagious and her appearance endearing. She’d bleached her tight blue curls white, which would have looked natural for her age if not for the way those curls sparkled. She’d sprayed her hair with some sort of iridescent glitter. Harper wouldn’t be surprised if she soon discovered colorful feather clip-ons or Day-Glo extensions. She was that adventurous. And at this moment, she was in her glory.

  Harper tried to channel Daisy’s wonder. She’d spent the last three years in the land of hard knocks and high hopes. Her experiences in Hollywood ranged from shocking to magical to absurd. Somewhere along the way she’d grown numb to it all—the glitz and the glam, the fanciful and fun. Right this minute Daisy and friends exuded mind-tripping glee. And all because of palm trees, dancing fountains, and casinos that resembled movie sets. A sphinx and a pyramid, a castle, the Big Apple, and the Eiffel Tower. At any other time Harper would have been oblivious, more interested in scrolling her phone apps—Twitter, TMZ—but today she focused on the Cupcake Lovers and the Strip. She tried very hard to see Sin City through Daisy’s eyes. A blip of glee bubbled then welled. Rainbows and starshine ripped through three years of gloom.

  Hellooooo, happy!

  Harper felt the weight of Sam’s stare, turned and noted a slight crook of his lips. “What?”

  “Just enjoying that smile.”

  She beamed a little more. “Me, too.”

  * * *

  Checking into the hotel would have gone faster if the senior Cupcake Lovers hadn’t been distracted by the bells and whistles of their festive surroundings. Sam refrained from hurrying the ladies along, but damn, he was itching to get to his room. He needed to touch base with Jayce. In private.

  “It’s the largest permanent big top in the world,” Daisy said as they cut through the main casino floor—the ringing, whirring, and blipping of various slot machines ramping the already chaotic noise level. “I looked it up on the computer.”

  “So did we,” Helen said as she craned her head left and right and then up. “Daniel and I are looking forward to the featured circus acts!”

  “Ethel and I have our hearts set on the penny slots,” Judy said.

  “If you get bored with that,” Daisy said, “there’s a midway with carnival games.”

  “And that’s just in this one casino,” Helen said as they passed several shops and restaurants. “The time change bought us three extra hours, still … so much to experience in two days’ time.”

  “That’s why you have me,” said the young man who’d greeted them at the front entrance. “I’ll get you everywhere you want to go, just give me a list of the places you most want to see.” His name was Sebastian. Harper had introduced him as a production assistant for Brice and Kaylee. He’d been assigned to act as liaison and tour guide. Sam was thankful for that, knowing the older ladies and gents would be in good hands while Sam and Harper stole away for the evening.

  When they finally made it to the hotel lobby, Harper and Sebastian helped to expedite matters. Bellmen loaded luggage carts and led the way. Their rooms were in the newer tower. Harper had arranged for her and Sam to have adjoining rooms—for appearances’ sake. Once inside their respective rooms, Sam tipped the doorman then opened the adjoining door on cue with Harper.

  She flew into his arms. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for nine hours.”

  Holding her close, Sam brushed his mouth over hers, and groaned when she took the kiss deeper. She tasted of coffee and cookies. She felt like a dream. Pulling away wasn’t easy. “Helluva time to get me worked up, Slick. A limo’s picking us up in ninety minutes and I’ve got errands to run.”

  She sighed. “That’s okay. I want to take a shower, change my clothes. You kept the arrangements simple, right?”

  “Per your request.”

  “It seems silly to do anything elaborate. It’s just the two of us and, well, it is a business arrangement.”

  He smoothed her glossy waves off her gorgeous face and searched those sultry blue eyes. “Is it?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Her phone chimed and so did his.

  “It’s Tasha,” she said. “Probably just arrived and—”

  “Take it,” Sam said. “I’ve got the kids here,” he lied. It was Jayce.

  Harper answered her phone and backed into her own room, smiling at Sam as she closed the door.

  He closed his door, as well, moved toward the window and kept his voice low. “I got your text, Jayce, but I didn’t see it until I landed. Are you positive Wilson booked a flight?”

  “Figured I’d keep tabs on him over the next couple of weeks. Saw the booking listed on his credit card account.”

  “You can…? Never mind. He booked the flight to Vegas after I spoke with him?”

  “Before. Yesterday. Mind you, Harper tweeted and posted late Saturday regarding the Cupcake Lovers’ television appearance. She made it clear she’d be with them in an official capacity.” Jayce paused and Sam stewed. “Forgoing any delays with the Midw
estern layover,” Jayce continued, “Wilson will arrive in Vegas around midnight. Guess he didn’t take your cease and desist seriously.”

  “Guess not.” And Sam had been damned clear on the matter. “Wilson didn’t apologize or back down. Said I should be grateful he’d warned me—one soldier to another—about Harper. I cut him off when he started listing her faults. The man’s fixated.”

  “Obviously. So how did it end exactly?”

  “With me listing some of the threats you suggested and him saying he heard me loud and clear.”

  “Hearing and listening,” Jayce said. “Two different things.”

  “What the hell?”

  “He doesn’t want her to be happy, Sam. He sure as hell doesn’t want her living happily ever after with another soldier while his son’s dead in the ground.”

  “He’ll get here too late to interfere with the ceremony.”

  “But not too late to make a scene. To reignite the story of his son’s death, implicate Harper, stir up a shitstorm, get people talking and wondering and scrutinizing her character. Via national television.”

  Sam shoved a hand through his hair. “The talk show. It’s live. Shit.”

  “I can catch a flight,” Jayce said. “Be there tomorrow morning, before the show.”

  “No. I’ve got this.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sam. You need to give Harper a heads-up about Wilson.”

  “I know.” He glanced at their adjoining doors, thought about her smiling face. “But not yet. She’s been under a lot of stress, but not today. Today she’s happy. I’d like to sustain that for the night at least.”

  “Considering your plans for the evening, I don’t blame you. And, though you blindsided me with this eloping thing, let me be the first to say congratulations, Sam.”

  “Thanks. I don’t expect everyone to be as accepting.”

  “Then you don’t know your friends and family.”

  “There are extenuating circumstances.”

  “That may or may not come to light. I know. But I’ve seen you two together. It’s not just about a green card.”

  Considering Sam hadn’t specifically mentioned Harper’s impending deportation … “Impressive deducing.”

  “Coupled with intuition. Wilson’s a bully with a grudge,” Jayce added. “You’re going to have to make good on some of those threats, Sam.”

  “Trust me,” Sam said. “That won’t be a problem.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  She didn’t want special. She wanted simple. Special was fairy-tale and wishful thinking. Special was getting all excited and stupid about the perfect gown, the perfect flowers, the perfect venue. Harper had been down that road. Wanting to disconnect from the past, she’d left the details of this ceremony to Sam and she’d emphasized simple.

  That had been before she’d written the letter to Edward. Before she’d found closure with Andrew. Now that she was less than a half hour away from taking her vows with Sam, Harper was having second thoughts. She wanted special. Not elaborate, just meaningful. She wished she had shopped for a new dress. Something specifically for this moment. Something specifically for Sam. If she had more time, she’d rush out now. Instead she devoted extra effort to her makeup and hair.

  She applied smoky shadows to her eyes with an extra layer of ebony mascara. Instead of her signature red lipstick, she opted for rosy pink with a hint of gloss. She arranged her thick waves into a combination high bun and low-loose chignon. She thought about calling Daisy and asking if she could borrow her iridescent hair spray. But that would mean tipping Daisy off to the secret nuptials. Shimmery blush would have to do.

  Wearing her blue chenille robe she padded to the closet where she’d hung the clothes she’d brought along. Her fingers skimmed three dresses, pausing on the lace and silk of a pale yellow shift, not fancy, but classy. The more elegant portion of her wardrobe was still at her apartment in L.A. A good number of Harper’s possessions were still in L.A. She’d packed for a short getaway, intending to conquer her phobia in the seclusion of Sugar Creek, thinking she’d be back on the West Coast, back at the firm, in a matter of weeks.

  Little had she known.

  Her rent was paid through the first of August, but she’d have to go back before then to pack everything up. She’d sell the furniture, ship her personal belongings to Sugar Creek. It would involve time away from Sam and the kids. Time alone in L.A. where she’d possibly run into past clients and coworkers, where she’d have to face the crowds and chaos and potential violent outbursts that had sent her running in the first place. She felt a bite of anxiety and quickly chased it away. She’d worry about all that later. Now, this blessed, magical minute, she had a wedding to prepare for.

  Just as she reached for the yellow dress, Sam knocked on the adjoining door. He was a few minutes early, but she didn’t care. She was anxious to see him. She hoped he liked her hair.

  She opened the door and faltered back a step, her palm pressed to her pounding chest. “Wow.”

  “Wow, good? Or wow, what were you thinking?”

  “Wow, good. Wow, gorgeous.” Harper drank in the sight of Sam in a suit. The stylish charcoal-gray jacket and matching pants. The pristine shirt and perfectly knotted tie. “Holy hell, Rambo. You’re smoking hot.”

  His mouth crooked into a sexy grin. “I was just thinking the same about you, Slick. I didn’t believe it was possible for you to look more beautiful than you do on a daily basis. You’re stunning.”

  Harper flushed, lifting one hand to her coiled hair and another to the lapel of her robe. “That’s sweet. Thank you, Sam.” She’d never felt more awkward. He looked every bit a groom, whereas she … “I just need to get dressed.” Damn, damn, damn.

  “About that.” Sam produced a garment bag. “I hope you don’t mind. I know you asked for simple. I know you’re in a business frame of mind, but you’re a bride tonight, Harper. My bride. I wanted you to have something unique.”

  Heart threatening to burst through her chest, Harper grabbed the garment bag and fell back into her room. She hooked the hanger over the bathroom door, whizzed down the zipper, and fought back tears as she revealed a beautiful white dress. A strapless, shapely confection of gentle folds and sheer organza and iridescent lace. A simple yet elegant dress that would fall mid-shin. Stylish and lovely.

  And worthy of a bride.

  “Oh, Sam.” She stared at the dress, enchanted by its beauty, stunned by his thoughtfulness.

  “I hope I did okay. I ordered ahead of time online from a boutique here in Vegas. I raided your closet at home to pinpoint your dress and shoe size.”

  “Shoes?”

  Harper turned and saw Sam holding up a pair of four-inch peekaboo pumps. “The sales attendant advised beige over white. All I know is that they’re sexy and I’d love to see you in them.”

  Scarcely able to breathe Harper rushed forward and snatched the heels from Sam’s hands. “You have to leave while I dress,” she squeaked out.

  “Hell, honey,” he said with an ornery sparkle in his eyes. “I was looking forward to watching.”

  “But if you stay, you’ll say or do something else that will push me over the edge.”

  His shoulders tensed.

  “I don’t want to cry, Sam.” She fanned her face and blinked her burning eyes. “The dress, the shoes, you. It’s all so … special.”

  He smiled then and backed into his room. “You’ve got ten minutes, Slick. Let me know if you need any help with that zipper.”

  * * *

  Daisy had experienced some spine-tingling thrills in her lifetime, especially over these last few years, after vowing to live life to the fullest.

  Taking Rocky’s snowmobile for a joyride had been a thrill—until she’d crashed.

  Zooming down a steep hill on a borrowed bicycle had been a thrill—until she’d crashed.

  Speeding down the highway in her Caddy with the top down, while encouraging Chloe to act out in sor
t of a Thelma and Louise moment had been a thrill—until they’d gotten busted by a pinhead cop.

  Starting her own business, tubing down the creek, moving in with her man friend, dyeing her hair crazy colors—all thrilling.

  But nothing matched the adrenaline-charged feeling of walking toward the Graceland Wedding Chapel alongside the man who made her feel like a princess. Vincent had booked a limo to drive them from hotel to chapel—her second limo ride in one day. He’d bought her a pretty bouquet, too—daisies and petunias. He’d even ditched his plaid shirt and suspenders in favor of a white shirt and red bow tie. Vincent didn’t imbibe, but champagne came with the limo so he’d shared a glass with Daisy to toast their Vegas adventure. She’d given him such short notice and yet he’d taken care of everything—the marriage license, the wedding package, the rings.

  Now they were entering the little white chapel with the cobblestoned steeple and Daisy felt like she’d grabbed onto a live wire. Every particle of her old body sizzled and tingled, and since Vincent was that live wire, she held on all the tighter.

  Bring it on!

  He paused at the door. “Are you sure about this, Petunia?”

  “I’m sure, Speedy.”

  “I’m sorry your daughter’s out of town. Of all the rotten timing.”

  Daisy had swallowed her pride and called Kelly as soon as she’d settled into her hotel room. She thought they could at least meet for lunch. Vincent had encouraged Daisy to invite Kelly to the ceremony, saying maybe it would help to mend their broken bridge. Daisy doubted that but she was hoping for lunch. But instead of Kelly, a roommate had answered the phone, telling Daisy that Kelly was on a southwestern road trip with friends. Daisy had been disappointed, but not crushed. She hadn’t been on easy terms with her daughter for years. Daisy was determined to fix that. Someday.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to invite Nash? He could walk you down the aisle.”