Joe gave me an assessing glance, while his legs bracketed mine and his hands gripped my waist. “Take off your shoes.”
I felt color flooding my face. Clinging to him, I slipped off my pumps.
“I’ll get those,” Jack said, retrieving the pumps and evening clutch.
“Close your eyes,” Joe told me. After I complied, he slid an arm around my back. “Trust me,” he murmured. “And keep breathing.”
I obeyed the pressure of his hands and let him guide me.
“Why are you meeting with Ryan?” Joe asked as he steered me forward.
Grateful for the distraction, I said, “Hollis told me he needs help with ideas on how to propose to Bethany.”
“Why would he need help with that? All he has to do is ask the question and give her a ring.”
“Nowadays people make the proposal into an event.” The soles of my feet were sweating. I hoped I wasn’t leaving damp footprints on the glass. “You can take someone on a hot-air balloon ride and propose in midair, or go scuba diving and propose underwater, or even hire a flash mob to sing and dance.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Joe said flatly.
“Being romantic is ridiculous?”
“No, turning a private moment into a Broadway musical is ridiculous.” We stopped, and Joe turned me to face him. “You can open your eyes now.”
“We’re there?”
“We’re there.”
When I saw that we were safe on solid granite flooring, I let out a sigh of relief. Discovering that my fingers were still wrapped tightly around his wrist, I forced my grip to loosen. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He leveled a steady gaze at me, and I writhed inwardly as I understood that before the evening was over, we were going to talk.
“I’ll get my camera,” he said, and went back to the skyroom.
“Here you go,” Jack said, handing me the evening pumps and clutch bag.
“Thanks.” I set the shoes on the floor and stepped into them. “I think that qualified as my first nervous breakdown,” I said with chagrin.
“A little nervous breakdown never hurt anyone,” Jack assured me. “I gave ’em to my mom all the time.”
“You’ve given me one or two,” Ella informed him.
“You knew what you were getting into, marrying a Travis.”
“Yes, I knew.” Ella smiled and reached over to adjust his tie. “After something this traumatic,” she told me cheerfully, “you need to self-medicate. Let’s go sit somewhere and have a drink.”
“I would love to,” I said, “but I can’t. I have to wait here for Joe’s cousin Ryan.”
“Have you met him before?”
“No, and I have no idea what he looks like.”
“I’ll point him out to you,” Ella said. “Although the family resemblance is unmistakable. Big, hairy, lots of attitude.”
Jack bent to brush a casual kiss on her lips. “That’s just how you like ’em,” he said. “Want me to get you some champagne?”
“Yes, please.”
Jack glanced at me. “Same for you, Avery?”
Although I would have loved some, I shook my head reluctantly. “Thank you, but I’d better stay as clearheaded as possible.”
As he left, Ella turned a friendly gaze to me. “How long have you and Joe known each other?”
“We don’t,” I said quickly. “I mean… we met several days ago at a wedding I’d planned, but we’re not… you know…”
“He’s interested,” she told me. “I could tell from the way he was looking at you.”
“I’m too busy to even think about going out with someone.”
She gave me a patently sympathetic look. “Avery, I’m an advice columnist. I write about this stuff all the time. No one is ever too busy for a relationship. Katy Perry’s busy, but she dates, right? A-Rod’s busy, but he has a new girlfriend every month. So I’m guessing you were burned in your last relationship. You’ve lost faith in the entire male half of our species.”
There was something so perky and engaging about her that I couldn’t help smiling. “That about sums it up.”
“Then you need to —” She broke off as Joe returned with his camera.
“Ryan’s heading over here,” he said. “I just saw him get off the elevator.”
A tall, well-dressed man approached us. His thick hair had been clipped conservatively short, the locks the color of dark chocolate. With his high cheekbones and icehouse-blue eyes, he was remarkably handsome, more austere and polished than the Travis brothers. He possessed a self-contained quality, with no hint of the Travises’ consummate charm or easy humor, but rather a sense that he was a man who would let his guard down only reluctantly, if at all.
“Hi, Ella,” he said as he reached us, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Joe.”
“How’s it going, Rye?” Joe asked as they shook hands.
“I’ve been better.” Ryan turned to me, his expression masked with politeness. “You’re the wedding planner?”
“Avery Crosslin.”
His grip was firm but careful as we shook hands. “We’ll have to make this quick,” Ryan said. “I only have a few minutes before Bethany tracks me down.”
“Of course. Would you like to talk in private? I’m not familiar with the house —”
“Not necessary,” Ryan said. “Joe and Ella are family.” His gaze was cool. “What has Hollis told you about my situation?”
I answered readily. “She said that you’re going to propose to her daughter, Bethany, and you wanted to talk to me about ideas for the proposal.”
“I don’t need proposal ideas,” Ryan said flatly. “Hollis only said that because she’s afraid I won’t go through with it. She and David are trying to hold my feet to the fire.”
“Why’s that?” Joe asked.
Ryan hesitated for a long moment. “Bethany’s pregnant.” The battened-down tension in his reply made it clear that the news had been neither expected nor welcome.
A sober silence descended.
“She said she wants to have the baby,” Ryan continued. “I told her I’d stand by her, of course.”
“Ryan,” Ella ventured, “I know you’re traditional about these things. But if that’s the only reason you’re proposing to Bethany, the marriage doesn’t have a great chance of working out.”
“We’ll make it work.”
“You can be part of your child’s life without having to get married,” I said quietly.
“I’m not here to discuss the pros and cons. The wedding is going to happen. All I want is a say in how it turns out.”
“So you want to take an active part in the planning?” I asked.
“No, I just want to set some reasonable parameters and have them enforced. Otherwise, Hollis will have the entire wedding party riding on elephants dressed in gold chain mail, or worse.”
I was troubled by the prospect of planning a wedding for a reluctant groom. It seemed doubtful that he and Bethany would make it to the altar, but even if they did, the process would likely be miserable for everyone involved. “Ryan,” I said, “there are several very experienced and well-established event planners in Houston who could do a wonderful job —”
“They’re all in the Warners’ pocket. I’ve already made it clear to Hollis that I won’t put up with any event planner who’s worked for her in the past. I want someone she doesn’t own. It doesn’t matter to me about how good you are, or what kind of flowers you pick, or any of that. All I want to know is if you can stand up to Hollis when she tries to take over.”
“Of course I can,” I said. “I’m a pathological control freak. And I happen to be great at my job. But before we discuss this any further, why don’t you come to my studio and —”
“You’re hired,” he said abruptly.
I responded with a startled laugh. “I’m sure you’ll want to run it by Bethany first.”
Ryan shook his head. “I’ll stipulate that hiring you is a requirement for the engagement
. She won’t say a word about it.”
“Usually the procedure for this starts with a studio visit. We look at a portfolio and discuss ideas and possibilities —”
“I don’t want to drag this out any longer than necessary. I’ve already decided to give the job to you.”
Before I could reply, Joe intervened with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Rye, I don’t think the question is whether you want to hire Avery. I think she’s trying to figure out if she wants to take you on.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Ryan’s perplexed gaze arrowed to mine.
While I was busy trying to come up with a diplomatic reply, we were interrupted by Jack’s return. “Hey, Rye.” He had arrived with Ella’s champagne in time to overhear the last of the conversation. “What are you hiring Avery for?”
“Wedding planning,” Ryan said. “Bethany’s pregnant.”
Jack stared at him blankly. “Damn, son,” he said after a moment. “There are precautions for that.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “No method’s a hundred percent except abstinence. Explain that word to him, Ella – God knows he’s never heard it before.”
Jack grinned briefly. “She knows me well enough not to bother.”
Privately, I reflected that beneath Ryan’s high-handed manner, he had to be feeling what any man would in this situation: anxiety, frustration, and a tremendous need to obtain control over something. “Ryan,” I said gently, “I understand your desire to start making decisions right away, but this isn’t the way to pick a wedding planner. If you’re interested in hiring me, come to my studio at your earliest convenience and we’ll talk.” As I spoke, I fished a business card from my clutch and gave it to him.
Frowning, Ryan tucked the card into his pocket. “Monday morning?”
“That works fine for me.”
“Avery,” Ella said, “may I have a card too? I need your help.”
Jack gave her a quizzical glance. “We’re already married.”
“Not for that, it’s for Haven’s baby shower.” Ella took the card I gave her and gave me an imploring look. “How good are you at salvaging a disaster in the making? I had to arrange a baby shower for my sister-in-law Haven, because our other sister-in-law is swamped with a salon opening – she’s starting her own business – and I’m a terrible procrastinator, so I put it off for way too long. And Haven just told me that she’d rather not have a traditional girly shower, she’d rather it be appropriate for families. The whole thing is only half-planned, and it’s a mess.”
“When is it?” I asked.
“Next weekend,” Ella said sheepishly.
“I’ll do the best I can. I can’t promise miracles, but —”
“Thank you, what a relief! Anything you can do will be great. If you want to —”
“Wait a minute,” Ryan interrupted. “Why does Ella get an instant ‘yes’ and I don’t?”
“She needs the help more,” Joe said, perfectly deadpan. “Have you been to one of Ella’s parties?”
Ella gave him a warning glance, although her eyes sparkled with laughter. “Careful, you.”
Joe grinned at her before turning his attention to Ryan. “Let’s catch a game on Sunday,” he said.
“Sounds good.” Ryan paused before asking with a subtle smile, “Does Jack have to come along this time?”
“You’d better hope I do,” Jack said. “I’m the only one who ever pays for the damn beer.”
Joe took my elbow. “We’ll see y’all in a bit,” he said easily. “I want Avery’s opinion on some paintings I might bid on.”
Ella winked at me as Joe drew me away.
“Do you think your cousin is really going to go through with it?” I asked Joe in a low tone. “If he takes some time to think it through —”
“Rye won’t change his mind,” Joe said. “His dad died when he was ten. Trust me, he’d never let a kid of his grow up fatherless.”
We stepped into the elevator. “But it doesn’t sound as if he’s considered all his options.”
“There are no options. If I were in his place, I’d do the same thing.”
“You’d propose to a woman you’d accidentally gotten pregnant, even if you didn’t love her?”
“Of course I would. Why do you look surprised?”
“It’s just… an old-fashioned notion, that’s all.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“I don’t necessarily agree. The chances of divorce are very high when a marriage starts out that way.”
“In my family, if you get a woman pregnant, you take responsibility.”
“What about what Bethany wants?”
“She wants to marry a man with money. And she’s not too particular about who it is, as long as he can afford her.”
“You have no way of knowing that.”
“Honey, everybody knows it.” Joe cast a grim glance at the scenery on the other side of the elevator glass. “Ryan’s spent most of his life with his nose to the grindstone, and then when he finally decides to take a break and have some fun, he hooks up with Bethany Warner. A party girl. A professional socialite. You don’t get caught by a girl like that. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking.”
The doors opened, and we were on the main floor again. Joe took my free hand and began to tow me through the crowd.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“I’m finding us a place to talk.”
I blanched, knowing exactly what he wanted to discuss. “Here? Now? There’s no privacy.”
Joe sounded sardonic. “We could have had plenty of privacy, if you’d picked up your phone when I called.”
We proceeded through one packed room after another, pausing occasionally for brief conversations. Even in this exalted gathering of insiders, it was clear that he was something special. The combination of his name, money, and looks was all a man needed to unlock the world. But he adroitly deflected people’s eager interest, turning it around to focus on them as if they were infinitely more worthy of attention.
Eventually, we entered a room lined with dark paneled wood and bookshelves, the ceiling low and coffered, the floor covered with a thick Persian rug. Joe closed the door, muffling the sounds of conversation, laughter, and music. His polite social mask disappeared as he turned to face me. In the silence, my heartbeat gathered momentum, rolling into a hard repeated wallop.
“Why did you say there was no chance of this going anywhere?” he asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Joe gave me a caustic glance. “I’m a guy, Avery. Nothing about relationships is obvious to me.”
No matter how I tried to explain, I knew I would end up sounding self-pitying or pathetic. I don’t want to end up being hurt the way you’re going to hurt me. I know how these things work. You want sex and fun, and when it’s over you’ll move on, but I won’t be able to, because you’ll have broken what’s left of my heart.
“Joe… one night with you was all I expected, and it was wonderful. But I… I need something different.” I paused, trying to think of how to explain.
His eyes widened, and he said my name on a quiet breath. Confused by the change in his demeanor, I backed up reflexively as he came to me. One of his arms slid around me, while his free hand lifted to cradle the side of my face. “Avery, sweetheart…” There was a slight rasp in his voice, something concerned… raw… sexual. “If I didn’t give you what you needed… if I didn’t satisfy you… all you had to do was tell me.”
Nine
R
ealizing that Joe had misunderstood, I stammered, “No, that – that’s not – I didn’t mean —”
“I’ll make it up to you.” He caressed my cheek with his thumb, and his mouth grazed mine with an erotic gentleness that left me gasping. “Let me have another night with you. You can ask me for anything. Anything. I’ll make it so good for you, honey… there are so many ways… All you have to do is come to bed with me, and I’ll take care of you.”
Dazed, I tried to explain that he’d gotten it all wrong, but as I opened my mouth, Joe kissed me again and again, murmuring promises about the pleasure he would give me, the things he would do for me. He was so remorseful, so determined… and to my shame, I found it sexy as hell to be caught in the grasp of a big, aroused male who wouldn’t stop apologizing and kissing me. Gradually, it seemed less important to break free. His mouth ravished mine, all silk and hunger, draining me of strength. The insane chemistry between us didn’t just feel good, it felt necessary, as if I needed him to breathe, as though my body would stop functioning if I couldn’t keep touching him.