Reunited with the Lassiter Bride

by Barbara Dunlop

Suzanne’s alarm showed on her face. “Oh, no. It won’t look anything like that.”

  “It would be nice to be able to offer refreshments.”

  “Done,” said Suzanne. “And we’ll make it discreet, I promise.”

  The door opened and Becky appeared again. “Ms. Lassiter? Sorry to interrupt. But your three o’clock is here.”

  “We’ll get out of your way,” said Suzanne. “Would the end of the week be soon enough for some mock-ups?”

  “End of the week is fine,” said Angelica.

  She’d rather have the mock-ups in the next ten minutes, but patience was one of the characteristics she was practicing at the moment. Patience, composure and a work-life balance.

  Before his sudden death, her father had complained that she worked too hard, that she needed balance in her life. When he’d taken away her position at Lassiter through his will, she’d been forced to reevaluate her balance.

  She’d made progress, and she’d promised herself to give it a fair shot. She was even thinking about taking up a hobby, and maybe a sport. Yoga, perhaps. People who did yoga seemed very serene.

  “We’ll be in touch,” said Suzanne as she and Boswell left the boardroom.

  The door closed behind them, and Angelica took a moment to focus on her composure. Her next meeting was with her close friend Kayla Prince. Kayla was engaged to Lassiter Media account executive Matt Hollis, so she’d been along for the ride on the family discord over the past five months.

  Angelica knew that many of the Lassiter Media executives worried she’d put the company at risk by working with corporate raider Jack Reed and attempting to contest the will. And her recent single-minded focus on regaining control of the company meant she hadn’t seen much of Kayla or any of her other friends. She could only imagine what Kayla might have heard from Matt at the height of the conflict.

  So, when the door opened again, she was ready for anything. But Kayla surprised her, rushing through the door and quickly pulling her into a warm hug.

  “I’m so glad it’s over,” said Kayla. She drew back to peer at Angelica. “You okay now? Congratulations. You deserved this all along. You’re going to be a fantastic CEO.”

  Angelica’s brain stumbled for a moment, and then a warm rush of relief nearly buckled her knees. She hugged Kayla back. “I’ve missed you so much,” she confessed.

  “Whose fault is that?” Kayla asked on a laugh.

  “Mine. It’s all my fault. Everything is all my fault.”

  Kayla drew back again, this time briskly rubbing Angelica’s upper arms. “Stop. That’s enough. I don’t want to hear you say that again.”

  Angelica was about to protest, but then she spotted Tiffany Baines in the doorway. “Tiff?”

  Tiffany opened her arms, and Angelica rushed to greet her other close friend.

  “Angie,” Tiffany sighed. “It’s so great to see you at the office.”

  Angelica took a step back, sobering. “I’ve got a lot of work to do here.” She glanced at Kayla as well. “There are a lot of fences to mend and a whole lot of decisions to make.”

  “You’ll do great,” Tiffany stated with conviction. “There’s nobody better than you to run Lassiter Media. The stupid will put you in an impossible position.”

  “I could have handled it better,” said Angelica.

  “How were you to know it was a test? What if it hadn’t been a test? What if your father had truly lost his mind and left the family company to Evan? You were right to fight it.”

  “I think you’re the only person in the world who feels that way,” Angelica said to Tiffany.

  “I doubt it. But it doesn’t matter. What matters now is that you’re going to be an amazing success.” A mischievous grin grew on Tiffany’s face, and she shifted her attention to Kayla. “Go ahead. Tell her.”

  “Tell me what?” Angelica took in Kayla’s matching, wide grin. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve set a date,” said Kayla.

  “For the wedding?”

  Kayla nodded.

  “That’s fantastic news. When? Where? How big?”

  Kayla laughed. “End of September. I know it’s quick. But they had a cancellation at the Emerald Wave. We’ll be oceanfront in Malibu, just like my mother always dreamed we’d be. We can have the ceremony right on the cliff. I know it’ll be spectacular.”

  “It sounds perfect,” said Angelica, ignoring the tiny spear of jealousy that tried to pierce her chest.

  It was too late for her own fairy-tale wedding. That was simply the reality of it all. And she was genuinely delighted for her friend.

  “Now that we’ve finally made plans, I can’t wait to marry Matt.”

  “Of course you can’t.”

  “I want you to be my maid of honor.”

  The jealousy was immediately obliterated by a wave of warmth. Angelica was surprised and touched. “I’d love to be your maid of honor. After everything—” she stopped, gathering her emotions. “You are so sweet to ask.”

  “Sweet, nothing. You’re my best friend. You always have been, and you always will be.”

  “And I’m going to be a bridesmaid,” sang Tiffany. “We’re going to have a blast.”

  “We are,” Angelica agreed, putting conviction into her tone. “This is exactly what I need right now.”

  She would forgive her father. And she truly did want to honor his wishes. What could be more conducive to work-life balance than being maid of honor at a wedding?

  Kayla’s expression tightened ever so slightly. “There is one small complication.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Matt is going to ask Evan to be the best man.”

  Angelica’s equilibrium faltered.

  Evan as the best man, while she was the maid of honor? She and Evan together, dressed to the nines, at a dream wedding with lace, flowers and champagne, but not getting married? For a second, she didn’t think she could do it. She didn’t see how she could survive an event like that.

  “Angelica?” Kayla prompted, worry in her tone.

  “It’s fine,” said Angelica, her voice only slightly high-pitched. “It’ll be fine.” She gave a little laugh through her fear. “Hey, unless he leaves L.A., we’re going to run into each other eventually. I can handle it. No problem.” She gained determination. “I’m going to be the best maid of honor ever.”

  * * *

  Angelica’s sanctuary was the rose garden at her family’s mansion in Beverly Hills. She’d had the gazebo built five years ago to take advantage of the quiet, fragrant setting. At the end of a busy day, filled with dozens of meetings and the blare of the television screens that followed the five Lassiter networks, she could settle into one of the padded Adirondack chairs and sip a glass of wine.

  It was peaceful out here. She could read through the latest ratings, check reviews on the programming from Lassiter Broadcast System, take note of the successes and failures of the competition, and wrap her head around strategic directions for each of the Lassiter Media networks. It might only be September, but contingency plans for the inevitable January scheduling adjustments were well underway.

  She heard footfalls on the brick pathway from the main house and assumed it would be a member of the kitchen staff checking to see if she wanted dinner. She really wasn’t hungry, and she didn’t want to give up the peace of the garden just yet. She’d ask them to hold it for her.

  “Hello, Angelica,” came a distinct, male voice that sent a buzz of reaction twisting down her spine. She tightened the grip on her wine glass, whirling her head to see if she was imagining him.

  She wasn’t. Evan was standing in the middle of her rose garden, his steel-gray shirt open at the collar, and a pair of faded blue jeans clinging to his hips. His unshaven jaw was set, his hazel eyes dark and guarded.

  “Evan?” she responded, memories of the times they spent out here coming to life in her mind. They’d made love more than once in this gazebo, the cool, evening breeze kissing their sweaty skin, th
e scent of roses wafting over them, the taste of red wine on his lips.

  She swiftly set down her wineglass.

  He took a couple of steps forward, coming to a halt at the short staircase that led up to the gazebo. “I hope you’re ready to put on your maid-of-honor hat.”

  She sat up straighter, taking in his expression. “Why? Does Kayla need something? Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, something’s wrong.” He paused. “I’d never show up here unless something was very wrong.”

  The disdainful words cut her to the core. He didn’t want to be at the mansion, didn’t want anything more to do with her. She understood that. She’d prefer to stay away from him as well, but not for the same reasons.

  They’d been forced into each other’s company on several occasions since the breakup. Through it all, she’d had her anger to shield her. But now, all that was left was embarrassment and guilt.

  “You heard Matt and Kayla were delayed in Scotland?” he asked.

  She told herself to brazen it out. Evan couldn’t read her mind.

  “Yes,” she said. “Matt called in to the office yesterday. He’s taking a few extra days of vacation.”

  Matt and Kayla had flown to Edinburgh to take advantage of a last-minute opportunity to secure a significant art exhibit for Kayla’s gallery. As Angelica understood it, after they’d arrived, they’d been told a senior member of the church council had to personally approve some of the pieces leaving the country. They’d been forced to travel to his retreat in the north of the country to meet with him.

  “I’ve been trying to call them all day,” Evan continued. “But with the time difference and the spotty cell reception in the countryside, I couldn’t get through. And then I thought to myself, what are they going to do from Scotland anyway except worry? We’ll have to fix it for them from here.”

  “Fix what?” She sat up straighter. “What’s wrong, Evan?”

  He put his foot on the first stair and braced his hand on a support post, but seemed unwilling to enter the gazebo. “There was a fire at the Emerald Wave.”

  “Oh, no. Was it bad?”

  “Bad enough. It gutted half the kitchen. Luckily, nobody was hurt.”

  Angelica was grateful to hear everyone was safe, but her mind immediately went to Kayla. “We’re only three weeks from the wedding.”

  “No kidding.”

  “We need to find them a new venue.”

  “Are you going to continue stating the obvious?”

  She felt her nerves snap to attention. “Are you going to continue being a jerk?”

  “Oh, Angie.” His tone was soft, and his use of her nickname sent a new shiver of awareness through her body. “I haven’t even begun being a jerk.”

  She reached for her glass of merlot, needing something to fortify her. “What do you want from me, Evan?”

  He came up the three steps, filling the doorway to the gazebo with his six-foot-two height. “I need your help. I went to see Conrad Norville today.”

  “I don’t understand.” What did movie mogul Conrad Norville have to do with repairing a kitchen?

  “To ask if we could use his Malibu mansion for the wedding.”

  The explanation set her back for a moment. But she had to admit, it was a good idea.

  Conrad Norville owned a monster of a mansion on the Malibu oceanfront. The seventy-something man was renowned for being gruff and eccentric, but his house was acknowledged as an architectural masterpiece.

  “It’s the only place anywhere near Malibu that has a hope of fitting all the guests,” said Evan.

  “What did he say?”

  “He told me, and I’m quoting here, ‘No way in hell am I getting mixed up with that Lassiter circus. I’ve got a reputation to protect.’”

  Angelica felt her defenses go up on behalf of her family. “He’s got a reputation to protect?”

  “No,” said Evan, his tone admonishing. “He’s got a house we want to borrow.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t get all high and mighty—”

  “I’m not high and mighty.”

  “Well, whatever you are, this is no time for you to get into a fight with the man.”

  “He already turned you down,” Angelica pointed out. How could it possibly matter if she fought with Norville or not?

  “I’m willing to take another run at it,” said Evan. “For Matt and Kayla’s sake.”

  The statement made her curious. “You think you can change his mind?”

  “I was thinking you could help me change his mind.”

  “How could I do that? I’ve barely met him in passing. And it sure doesn’t sound as though he likes my family.”

  “I thought we could alleviate his fears, present a united front. Show him there are no hard feelings between us, that the rumors about the power struggle were overblown.”

  The rumors weren’t overblown. When her father’s will left control of Lassiter Media to Evan, it had resulted in all-out battle between the two of them. Even now, when they both knew it had been a test of her loyalty, their spirits were battered and bruised, their relationship shattered beyond repair.

  But Kayla’s happiness was at stake. Or, more specifically, Kayla’s mother’s happiness was at stake. Angelica was willing to bet that Kayla would marry Matt anywhere. In fact, they’d probably prefer to be married in Cheyenne, where they’d made their home. But Kayla’s mother had been looking forward to this day since Kayla was born. And Kayla would do anything for her family.

  “So, you’re asking me to lie?” Angelica stated in a flat, uncompromising tone.

  “I’m asking you to lie,” Evan agreed.

  “For Kayla and Matt.” That might be one of the few reasons she’d consider it.

  “I’d do a lot more than lie for Matt,” said Evan.

  She took in the determination on his handsome face. Experience had taught her that he was a formidable opponent who let absolutely nothing stand in his way.

  “I shudder to think how far you’d go to get what you want.”

  His expression tightened. “Yeah? Well, we both know how far you’ll go, don’t we?”

  It was a cutting blow.

  “I thought I was protecting my family,” she defended.

  When she’d learned of the terms of the will, she couldn’t come up with any explanation except that her father had lost his mind, or that Evan had brazenly manipulated J.D. into leaving him control of Lassiter Media.

  “You figured you were right and everyone else was wrong?” he asked.

  “It seemed so at the time.”

  His steps toward her appeared automatic. “You slept in my arms, told me you loved me, and then accused me of defrauding you out of nearly a billion dollars.”

  All the pieces had added up in her mind back then, and they had been damning for Evan. “Seducing me would have been an essential part of your overall plan to steal Lassiter Media.”

  “Shows you how little you know about me.”

  “I guess it does.”

  Even though she was agreeing, the answer seemed to anger him.

  “You should have known me. You should have trusted me. My nefarious plan was all inside your suspicious little head. I never made it, never mind executed it.”

  “I had no way of knowing that at the time.”

  “You could have trusted me. That’s what wives do with their husbands.”

  “We never got married.”

  “Your decision, not mine.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment.

  “What do you want me to do?” she finally asked. Then she realized her question was ambiguous. “About Conrad.”

  An ironic half smile played on Evan’s lips. “Don’t worry. I know you’d never ask what I wanted you to do about us.”

  He backed off a couple of paces. “Come with me to see Conrad. Tomorrow night. Pretend we’re pals, that everything is terrific between us, and he doesn’t have to worry about any public fights.”


  The request brought a pain to Angelica’s stomach. Nothing was remotely terrific between her and Evan. He was angry and she was sad. Because now that their dispute over Lassiter Media was over, she missed so many things about their former life.

  “Sure,” she agreed, forcing her misery into a small corner of her soul. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help Kayla.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something feminine.”

  She glanced down at her slim, navy skirt and the collared, white blouse. “Feminine?”

  “You know, ruffles or flowers, and some pretty shoes. Maybe curl your hair.”

  “Curl my hair?”

  “You don’t want to look like my rival. He’s an old-fashioned guy, Angie. He remembers a different time, a different kind of woman.”

  “When? The 1950s?”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “You want me to simper and giggle and bat my eyelashes to get a wedding venue for Kayla and Matt.”

  “In a word, yes.”

  She’d do it. She’d definitely do it for her best friend. But she wasn’t going to like it, and she wasn’t going into it without a protest. “Shall I cling to your arm as well?”

  “Cling to anything you want. Just sell it to him.” With that pronouncement, Evan turned on his heel, left the gazebo and disappeared along the pathway.

  Two

  Evan stood in the high-ceilinged foyer of the Lassiter mansion, gazing in amazement as a transformed Angie descended the grand staircase. She looked beautiful, feminine and deceptively sweet. Her chestnut hair was half up, half down, wisps dangling at her temples and curling enticingly along her shoulders in a silk curtain. The color was lighter than he remembered it, and he instantly realized he liked it this way.

  “You’re wearing pink,” he couldn’t stop himself from observing.

  “Now who’s stating the obvious?” As she covered the last couple of stairs, Evan noticed her simple, white pumps that matched a tiny purse tucked under her arm.

  “I’ve never seen you in pink.” The dress was snug in the bodice, with cap sleeves and flat lace across the chest. It had a full silk skirt and a discreet ruffle along the hem. She wore simple diamond stud earrings and a tiny diamond pendant on a delicate gold chain. She truly could have stepped out of the 1950s.