by Talley, Liz
“Are Puritans still around?” he asked, sticking his head out the bathroom door.
She giggled. “I don’t know, but if you don’t drink, how do you get through life?”
“Actually, I don’t drink because I see how it stops life. I’ve been sober for five years,” he said, snagging a sock and looking for the other one. She pointed to the wastebasket where it lay draped over the edge. He grabbed it and pulled it on.
Then he smiled at her.
There was power in that smile. Damn, how had she become so smitten with Officer Rhett in such a short amount of time? He was so adorable with his ramrod posture, military cut, and tucked-in T-shirt. Oh, and his rock-hard ass and abs weren’t bad, either. Not to mention those gorgeous baby blues. And his insightful texts. She didn’t want to totally objectify him, after all.
“So if you don’t want dessert or a cold one, how about me?” she asked, unwrapping the blanket and leaning back into her best bombshell calendar pose, thrusting her breasts upward, arching her back, and curving her legs back to tuck under her.
Joseph stopped tying his shoes and looked his fill. “Now that’s something I wouldn’t mind extra helpings of.”
Tennyson smiled. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night?”
“Let me check my schedule.”
She made a pouty face, letting the blanket drop and cupping her breasts.
“I’ll just do that now,” he said, picking up the phone he’d taken out of his pocket earlier. “Um, yep, it says here that I have to ensure public safety on Fairlane Boulevard. So I guess I better come on by.”
Tennyson laughed and wrapped the blanket around herself. “Good. I expect to be protected and served. Maybe served several times.”
Joseph came back into the bedroom and swept her into his arms, giving her a hard kiss. “If you don’t want to be served right now and embarrass your fancy party planner, you will stop showing me what I’m going to be missing for the next twenty-four hours.”
Tennyson dotted kisses along his jaw before pushing back. “This is crazy, you know.”
“What? Having a good time?”
That was exactly what she’d been thinking, but having him say that it was something just fun made her feel a bit . . . sad? Which was weird because she’d already failed at so many relationships that she’d decreed she would live out the rest of her days as a single woman. She liked being by herself for the most part, and dating the field was fun. Sure, there were some bad apples, but they usually made for good stories when she was with her friends. So, yeah, she wanted to keep it casual with Joseph. After all, they had nothing in common. Not really.
Okay, the sex had been amazing, and she liked him. Or thought she did. She really didn’t know him beyond the four or so times she’d met him and the inane texts they’d shared over the past few weeks. So why would she feel slightly miffed that he wanted to keep her at arm’s length? That was what she wanted. Right?
“Yeah, you’re right. It just happened fast. I’m not usually one for hopping right into bed with a guy. I require at least three dates and a nice bottle of wine.”
Joseph gave her another hard kiss. “You didn’t hop into bed. You hopped into the shower.”
“You know what I mean,” she said.
He headed toward the bedroom door just as the doorbell rang. “You better get dressed. Though I have to say you look fantastic with messy hair and no clothes.”
Tennyson stood and let the blanket drop again. “Think I can answer the door this way?”
“Seriously, woman, you’re killing me. Put on some clothes already before I’m forced to detain you and search your gorgeous body for another hour or two,” he said, giving her another wolfish grin before opening the door. “I’ll let your planner inside before I go.”
“Guess I better put on some clothes and some lipstick. My mom will be here soon, too. She’s southern, which means lipstick is as essential as a good pair of pearls, a nice set of stationery, and a framed picture of Elvis Presley.”
Joseph started shutting the door, but before it closed, he called back, “We’re going to have some fun this summer, Tennyson.”
A whole summer? It might take that long to get the hot cop out of her system. He was awfully good in bed, if not a brilliant conversationalist. But really, who needed someone clattering off facts, details, and observations all the time? There was value in solitude, in a man knowing he didn’t need to fill the air with aimless or even relevant conversation. Sometimes she appreciated a respite. She felt like Joseph was the kind of guy to give her room to breathe, time to sink into herself, and an opportunity to not worry about anything other than just being. He was also good at taking her breath away, so there was that.
She rose and padded into the bathroom, taking a left into her large walk-in closet. She rifled through the lingerie drawer, pulling on a lacy thong and matching bra that would remind her of hot sex with Joseph. She probably needed to shower, but she could smell him on her skin and wasn’t ready to let go of that. She found a simple A-line cotton dress, grabbed a pair of thong sandals, and wound her hair up into a messy bun. A quick dash of powder, mascara for her lashes, and a swipe of Dior lipstick called Insolent, and she was out the door.
And then back for a slight misting of Baccarat Rouge 540.
Because she wanted the smell of Joseph to be hers alone.
When she entered the living room, Marc was sitting on her sofa, balancing a cup of tea on the knee of his natty trousers, and Hot Cop was sitting opposite him, reading Town & Country. His still being there surprised her, but then she realized he hadn’t wanted to leave her there alone with another man while she was getting dressed. Something about that made her feel warm and gooey.
Joseph looked up. “This purse costs five grand.”
A smile flirted around Marc’s lips. “It’s a Fendi.”
“It’s a vacation,” Joseph said, shutting the magazine. “Well, I’m out. Great having lunch with you, Tennyson.”
Marc waggled his eyebrows. “Nothing better than a good lunch.”
Joseph shot Marc a sharp look before walking into the kitchen to grab the keys he’d set on her kitchen island. Marc watched him go.
“Nice,” Marc murmured, turning back to her and setting the teacup on the glass coffee table.
“Thank you,” she said in a low voice as Joseph retraced his steps toward the front door. He tossed her one last hungry glance before disappearing. The click of the door made her long to run to it, fling it open, and get one more taste of Officer Rhett.
But she had work to do.
“Well, I see you’ve had your fun. Now it’s time to put our noses to the grindstone, my dear,” Marc said, uncrossing his legs and rising. “First, I want to inspect the gardens to see if we need to bring in any last-minute greenery. I have ten lighted trees ready to line the pool. The gondola will be delivered in three hours, and we need to make sure it is absolutely stable. Cesar is a temperamental artist, but the best operatic tenor in the South. And since his booking is a huge favor from his agent to me, we can’t have him falling into your pool. Tents will be erected as soon as we get the trees and gondola secured. A pair of peacocks will be wandering the grounds as you requested, but I do think we should have guests sign a waiver when they arrive. Never know with peacocks. Oh, and I’ve arranged with the bartender to have the signature cocktails handed out at the door.”
“You found a valet company?”
“Done. The gilded chargers, table linens, five hundred lemons, and miles of lace and tapestry are all in the crates that have been delivered. My team will arrive in the morning bright and early for setup. You’ve approved fabrics and arrangements, so don’t worry. I promise you all is well.”
Tennyson sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “Good. Let’s head out back and go over everything, including table placements. I’ll have my attorney send the waivers because Lord knows I don’t want anyone to sue me over a peacock attack. Do peacocks normally attack people?”
She and Marc walked out back and toured the new gardens. The roses brought in were in full bloom and, though recently planted, looked as if they’d been there for years. The newly constructed retaining wall made the backyard look less unplanned and more tailored. A team had cleaned the pool and fountain, and the new patio furniture looked sleek and inviting.
“The three-piece ensemble will be just inside your house, playing while guests arrive.” Marc pointed toward olive tree topiaries decorated with kumquats and lemons that flanked her French doors. “I have torches and lanterns to light the path from the driveway, and a lovely flowered trellis will welcome guests at the entrance. It’s all very natural, very chic, and very expensive.”
Tennyson tried to envision what the shower would look like, but since Marc was vehemently opposed to Pinterest (her favorite!) she couldn’t quite catch on to his vision. So she’d have to trust that what she was paying him would net her the shower of her dreams.
Emma’s shower. She had to remind herself.
Okay, sure. She hated that she never had a bridal shower. Or a traditional wedding. She and Stephen were married by a justice of the peace when she was a whopping nine months pregnant with Andrew. She’d married her third husband, Robert, in Hawaii with only his business partners as witnesses, and the ill-fated, short-lived mistake in the middle of the two had taken place in Italy surrounded by number two’s leeches, ahem, family. So she’d never had a rehearsal dinner, wedding shower, or her father to walk her down the aisle. In fact, her family hadn’t been to a single one of her weddings. So she knew she was living her own dreams through this shower. That was why everything had to be perfect.
“The Murano glass ornaments are all wrapped and ready to be given to guests. Where are we putting those?” Tennyson asked.
“I thought you were giving away puppies?” Marc joked.
“I seriously considered inviting a local shelter to come and bring their adoptable puppies, but after the engagement party, dogs aren’t welcome at any of the events,” Tennyson said with a smile.
“Word gets around. Janie Thackery wore half that cake, as I understand it,” Marc said, stifling a chuckle.
“At least. Let’s keep it at majestic peacocks wandering the grounds. Prada will be staying in my laundry room in her kennel. I don’t want anyone slipping in puppy pee.”
They walked back toward the house. “Your landscape designer did a nice job. I think we’re good on greenery. I have written out a schedule. It includes Andrew’s arrival, toasts, Cesar’s solo, and the fireworks.”
“Perfect. Do you think the fireworks will be okay? The shower is from six to eight thirty. It won’t be totally dark.”
“They will be perfect against the darkening sky. Everything will be perfect. I promise.” Marc crossed his arms and looked emphatic.
“It better be,” Tennyson said, tempering her words with a smile.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Melanie stopped in the center of the pathway that opened into Emma’s bridal shower, uh, make that extravaganza, and blinked a good three or four times before the craziness in front of her truly registered.
“Whoa, is this for real?” her friend Sandy breathed. The cofounding member of their book club stood beside her, mouth open, eyes wide as she swiveled her head from side to side.
“Eh, I think it’s Tennyson’s reality, which is to say, no, it’s not real for most people,” Melanie said, moving forward so the people behind her could come into Tennyson’s backyard, which did not resemble a backyard. It was more like Disney crashed into Las Vegas while dancing the cha-cha and . . . wait, was someone singing opera?
Melanie tugged a gawking Sandy along the well-lit path. Large urns of flowers spilled out between each oversize lantern lining both sides of the path. Above them, crisscrossed strings of lighted bulbs lent their merriment to the entrance. When they finally stepped onto the patio, a tuxedoed waiter handed them a fluted glass.
“Aperol spritz, madam,” he said with a nod.
“Thank you,” Melanie managed before sidestepping a peacock.
Yep, Kit had been right. Peacocks, for heaven’s sake.
Sandy grabbed her arm, stepping back and almost knocking her Aperol spritz from her hand. “Is that a peacock? Dear lord.”
“Sister, you know your birds,” Melanie murmured, unable to believe her eyes herself. Around her were jugglers, mimes, and an organ grinder? And in the center of Tennyson’s backyard, standing in a gondola that was anchored incredibly in the center of the pool, was a man wearing a tuxedo belting out an aria. She blinked and realized who it was. “Dear Lord, that’s Cesar Santos. I saw him with the Dallas philharmonic last year.”
“Cesar who? She paid an opera singer to stand in that boat?” Sandy asked, giving Melanie the side-eye. Sandy stood six feet in flats and had layered red hair and green eyes that reminded her of her old tomcat Jimbo. Her friend taught French at a local elementary school, and they’d been in the same book club—the Reading Krewe—for ten years. Sandy was as close as she got to “ride or die.” And that wasn’t that close. Not really.
Huge, clear tents soared overhead, and a line of fruit-bedecked, lighted trees flanked the pool. On one end of the rectangular pool was a cascading waterfall with colored LED lights that changed from violet to blue to green. Waiters circulated with hors d’oeuvres, and two large bars anchored each side of the yard. The large oak trees flaunted large, lit Japanese-style lanterns, and tables hunkered beneath the widespread branches, covered in white linens, elegant tapestry, and large crystal hurricane lanterns full of lemons and flowers.
Sandy kept sliding glances to her. Glances that said are you kidding me?
But her expression was one that many wore. Several guests were milling about with wide eyes and whispers.
“Mom!”
Melanie turned to find her daughter, clothed in a simple red sheath and strappy sandals, coming toward her with outstretched arms. “Can you believe all this?”
She grabbed her daughter’s hands and shook her head. “I would say no, but I’ve known Tennyson for a long time. I know she likes to dazzle.”
Emma laughed. “Well, mission waaaay accomplished.”
Emma said hello to Sandy and then looked over at Andrew, who was in a conversation with a group of people Melanie didn’t know. “I wish Daddy were here.”
She did, too.
Melanie had left Kit that morning after one of the best evenings they’d had in forever. After having drinks on the patio back in Destin, she and Kit had returned to their room and had naughty sex against the mirrored closet. Kit had been super into her whole “bad girl with a cigarette” vibe. They’d showered and gone down to meet Charlotte—eye roll from her every time Kit mentioned that woman’s name—only to find out that the girl wonder had a migraine. Or maybe Charlotte knew when she was beat? Whichever. Didn’t matter because Melanie had gotten to have an intimate dinner with her husband. They’d laughed, and everything had felt like old times, like she was back to being the Melanie he loved. After hurrying through key lime pie, they’d rushed upstairs, kissing passionately in the elevator, and again against the wall outside their room, before tumbling back inside and indulging in amazing sex. Like ah-mazing.
So when she’d woken that morning, she’d felt like a new woman, a woman who had made some definite steps in the right direction with her husband.
Thank God.
Kit had gotten dressed and slipped out to go to his meeting, and she’d ordered room service, indulging in waffles because she’d burned a lot of calories with Kit the night before. She lay in bed, singing some of her favorite Broadway tunes, slurping up syrupy waffles, and essentially loving life. But all that came crashing down when she’d rolled her suitcase downstairs and looked for Kit’s meeting room so she could tell him goodbye. When she finally found the boardroom, she opened the door to the sight of Cha
rlotte resting her head on Kit’s shoulder. They were sitting in the back, and he was holding a can of ginger ale and looking very worried.
Melanie narrowed her eyes and caught his attention.
Both he and Charlotte rose and joined her in the hallway.
“What’s up?” Kit asked, looking a bit like he did when he filched the cookies she’d made for the PTA bake sale. He took Charlotte’s elbow and set her against the wall.
“I’m about to leave and wanted to say goodbye. Is she okay?”
“The migraine she had last night is hanging on and making her feel sick,” Kit said, looking back with concern at Charlotte, who did, in fact, look wan.
“I’ll be okay, Kit,” Charlotte said with a wave of her manicured hand.
“Does she need to fly back with me?” Melanie asked, half hoping the answer was no because she didn’t want to deal with a sick person on her flight back to Shreveport. Especially since it wasn’t a nonstop flight. And half hoping the answer would be yes, so she wouldn’t have to leave her husband alone with a heifer who had designs on him.
“No,” Charlotte said, shaking her head and wincing. “I have to be here. We have our presentation, Kit.”
Kit nodded. “Yeah. She thinks she’ll be okay. She took some medicine and said it’s starting to work.”
“Okay, my car will be here in a few minutes, so I need to get to the lobby. I will miss you.” Melanie rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. “It was really nice being here with you, Kit.”
Kit smiled and gave her a squeeze. “I’m glad you came.”
Charlotte tried on a smile. “Safe travels, Melanie.”
“Thanks. And I hope you feel better.”
Charlotte straightened, throwing back her shoulders. “I’ll be fine. After all, I have a good partner who will take care of me.” She placed a possessive hand on Kit’s arm.
Melanie tried not to growl. Because Kit had just spent the entire night kissing every inch of her body and telling her things that would make a, well, not a whore, but a woman with really loose morals blush. So Melanie should feel good about waltzing out the door and leaving her husband behind. But Charlotte made that hard to do.