Always the Designer, Never the Bride (30 page)

Sherilyn had encouraged her several times since they'd arrived in Atlanta about taking her jewelry designs to the mass market.

"I have a profession," Kat had told her, and Audrey had added that she could never survive without her. But maybe she would have to.

Even if Lisette's gown acted as a stepping-stone that garnered a bigger opportunity for Audrey, the realization could not be ignored; she might have to continue her journey as a designer without Kat.

The thought choked her slightly, and she had a rough time breathing around the massive lump of emotion resting in the hollow of her throat. She'd been working hard to ignore the tickle at the base of her heart, the one that relentlessly reminded her almost every hour that J. R. had ridden away from her, off into the sunset. The thought of Kat doing the same thing was almost too much for her now.

"I'm due at Carly's for dinner in an hour. Are you ready to call it a day?"

"You bet."

Audrey dropped Kat at The Tanglewood before continuing over to Carly and Devon's house. It had been a long time since she'd driven in the Atlanta area, and the little black Cobalt she'd rented for her three weeks in town zipped nicely through Roswell traffic. She tuned the radio to a classic oldies station, and she found herself smiling and singing along when Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock & Roll" hit the airwaves, reminding her of the teenage dance party she'd attended at Sherilyn's house.

Tapping the steering wheel and singing along as she rounded the corner into the driveway, Audrey suddenly gasped, the next lyric to the song frozen on her lips as she jammed on the brakes.

She just sat there in the driveway, staring at the familiar Harley-Davidson parked behind Devon's big truck.

The Top Five

World-Class Designers of
Bling

1.
Tacori

Tacori is known for platinum and diamond jewelry
combining heirloom elegance with contemporary detail.
The company's signature is a crescent silhouette design.

2.
Neil Lane

While Lane is most widely known for his red carpet bling,
his personal taste is demonstrated in his lavish personal
collection of Tiffany jewels, as well as Renaissance pieces
and nineteenth-century gems.

3.
Harry Winston

Winston is responsible for the tradition of lending out
jewelry to stars for their appearances on the red carpet.
Since the 1930s, Harry Winston is a name most equated
with luxury, exquisite craftsmanship, and rare stones
such as those he donated to the Smithsonian.

4.
Tiffany & Co.

Since the 1800s, Tiffany's has established many FIRSTS
in the industry, from the first retail catalog to setting the
purity standard for platinum in the United States.
While the company offers a stone and setting for virtually
every occasion, it is famous for the one-carat diamond
engagement ring in the Tiffany setting,
and its blue box is universally recognizable.

5.
Cartier

With more than a century of artistry to its credit, the
French-based Cartier brand is synonymous with luxury jewelry.
Once labeled by royalty as "Jeweller to Kings, King of Jewellers,"
the Cartier name has also been attached to a diverse array of
products, from leather goods to fragrance to fine timepieces.

13

A
udrey pushed the front door open, walked tentatively inside, and stood there listening to the voices in the kitchen. One note from J. R. and she inhaled sharply and hurried to the wood-framed mirror in the entry. She fluffed her hair, checked her lips, quickly ran her index finger over her front teeth, and vigorously shook off the nervous electricity suddenly coursing through her. Taking one more deep breath, she passed through the arched doorway.

"Oh, good! Aud, you're right on time. And look who's here!"

J. R. swung around in his chair and smiled at her, his steelblue eyes piercing. "Hey, Audrey."

"Hey, J. R. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be halfway to Austin by now?"

"He was nearly to Louisiana before the guy he was meeting called and canceled," Carly interjected. "Can you believe the nerve of that guy?"

"I'm so sorry. And . . . you decided not to go back to Santa Fe. I thought that was your plan."

"My new sister-in-law presented a compelling argument for me being here until Devon ships out. I figured it might be a sort of sign that I needed to come back."

"He has no idea how much it cost me for Carly to pay the guy off," Devon said, pulling a mock-serious face.

"Oh, stop it," Carly retorted. "I did not."

Audrey swallowed hard. "Well, if we have to put up with you a little longer, I guess we can manage, right?"

Devon cackled at that and squeezed Audrey's hand. "How are the new digs working out?"

"Weston LaMont is a pity," she said as she rounded the table and sat down across from J. R. "But the offices are unbelievable. Marble floors, walls of windows, and you should see the women's restroom, Caroline. It's the size of the bridal suite at The Tanglewood."

"And they order lunch from a different restaurant every day," Carly told them as she delivered a glass of iced tea to Audrey.

"Yeah, nice start to it too. Today was Caruso's."

"Fancy," Devon said.

"What did you have?"

"Chicken Caesar salad."

"Oh, shoot. We're having chicken for dinner."

Audrey exchanged grins with J. R. "I think I can manage chicken twice in one day. What kind?"

"Barbecued. It's Dev's favorite."

"Do you need any help?"

"No. Just sit there and tell us about your day."

"There's not really much to tell," Audrey replied, and she shrugged one shoulder at J. R. "Fit the form, cut the fabric. The usual . . . Only in some pretty amazing surroundings."

"Right," he chimed in. "I can't tell you how many times a day I do the same thing. Form after form. Fabric after fabric."

Devon cracked up and playfully smacked J. R. on the arm.

"Stop it, you two," Carly reprimanded with a grin. "When will you start to sew?"

"Tomorrow."

"And you'll be able to finish and fit the dress to the bride in plenty of time for the wedding?"

Audrey crossed her fingers and held them up. "Here's hoping."

"It was a real stroke of luck that this job kind of fell into your lap, wasn't it?" Devon asked her.

"The funny thing is," she said, and she tripped momentarily over the intensity of J. R.'s eyes. "Uh, I . . . Well, just before it happened, I said a prayer that God would provide some sort of answer because my design business was rolling downhill fast."

"You prayed, Aud?"

She noticed all eyes on her, and she giggled nervously. "Well. Yeah. I pray. What's with the shock and awe about it?"

Carly smiled. "I'm just happy to hear it, that's all."

"I came across this verse in the Bible—"

"The Bible?"

Smacking the tabletop lightly with her hand, she laughed. "Yes, Caroline. They're in every hotel room, or hadn't you heard?"

"But you were reading it?"

She looked from Carly to Devon to J. R. "Yes. I was restless, and . . . Oh, never mind."

"No, no, I want to hear it," Carly said, and she sat down in the chair beside her. "You were restless, and you opened the Bible. That's good. Go on."

After a long moment of silence, Audrey raised her hand and pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. "I'm going to . . . go and get cleaned up."

In the bathroom, Audrey stared at her reflection for a few seconds before leaning forward on the edge of the sink, her eyes clamped shut, shaking her head.

In a hotel room, praying, reading the Bible. Why did I say that out loud? How desperate and sad can I make myself look?

She pumped a dollop of soap to her hands and rubbed it into a lather beneath the running water, cringing as she played the conversation over in her head.

It's official. I'm 100 percent dork now. No doubt about it.

She dried her hands on the fluffy terrycloth guest towel with a big yellow
H
embroidered on it. She figured, in that moment,
H
was for Humiliation rather than Hunt.

Audrey jumped when she opened the bathroom door to find J. R. standing on the other side.

"Sorry. Didn't know there was a line."

He grinned. "There's not. I was waiting for you."

"Oh?"

"Carly says there's half an hour before dinner."

Audrey tilted her head slightly. "And this information is important because . . ."

"Time for a quick ride, if you're interested."

The appealing offer acted as a catalyst for a slow-moving smile that spread across her entire face and up to her ears.

"Let's go."

She realized as she climbed aboard J. R.'s Harley that something about sneaking away on a motorcycle with a guy transported her back to a time when the biggest thing she had to worry about was what to wear to the lake on Friday night and whether Joe Rossi would finally kiss her. Shaggy-haired, leather jacket-clad J. R. Hunt represented
Escape
to Audrey, with a capital
E.

When he emerged out of the garage with the second helmet and handed it to her, Audrey smiled at him.

"What?"

"Could we maybe, just this once, go
without the helmet?"

"No."

"Please?"

J. R.'s brow furrowed, and he asked her, "Why?"

"Didn't you ever just need to feel the wind in your hair?"

He grinned. "Sure."

"I need that today."

He considered the request for a long moment before he set the helmets on the grass and straddled the front portion of the black leather seat. "We are not leaving the suburb," he told her over his shoulder.

"Got it."

"Just a little wind in your hair, and back here for dinner," he declared, turning the key.

"Right."

"You know," he said as he gripped the gears. "Not too many girls enjoy the whole wind-messing-up-my-hair experience."

"I know. But sometimes you just have that sort of day where you need a lot of fresh air, all at once. Do you know what I mean?"

She felt the inward draw of a chuckle as she wrapped her arms around his mid-section. "You're preachin' to the choir, sister."

J. R. had the idea of offering Audrey a ride with the intention of getting her alone and telling her there was really no need for her face to turn three shades of red over the admission that she'd said a prayer or turned to the Bible for comfort. He did it all the time. In fact, he had planned to tell her it was the only thing that got him through sometimes, like each time Devon shipped out.

But he didn't tell her any of that.

They just rode along in silence, thirty miles per hour in a residential suburb, the cool twilight air pushing away all thoughts of the day, cleansing them. He caught a glimpse of Audrey in the mirror, her eyes gently closed, waves of light blonde hair dancing on the breeze, and her pinkish lips angled upward in a contented smile.