Best Laid Plans (Dearly Beloved) (2 page)

“Oh? And here I thought you didn’t believe in mergers and business, Claire.”

“I prefer you call me by my last name, Mr. Grant.”

“Fine. Then Vitale it is.”

She huffed out an exasperated breath and he braced in case she whipped out her index finger again. That thing was positively lethal. “What is it that you want, Mr. Grant?”

“I want you to have a seat, Vitale, and have a conversation with me.”

“That’s
Ms.
Vitale to you.”

“Are you afraid to sit down,
Ms.
Vitale?” Color stained her cheeks and Nick decided he liked the effect. He hadn’t teased a woman in a very long time—especially one who wasn’t afraid to tell him no.

She hummed something that sounded familiar as she sank onto the chair, leaned back, and gracefully crossed her left leg over her right at the knees. And lovely legs they were. In fact her figure had curves in all the right places. He’d never understood his colleagues’ obsession with stick-thin trophy wives half their ages. Women were like wine—better savored when they’d aged and mellowed to full-bodied flavor.

He shifted slightly to cover the growing tightness in his trousers. He cleared his throat to cover his amusement as he identified the song she’d been humming—“Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.”

Claire glanced at her watch and then stared at him. “I should start charging you by the hour.”

Nick coughed to hide his thoughts, which had most definitely taken a turn south. To cover, he turned and rifled through the papers on his desk. He found the bill he’d been searching for and read it over. He glanced at her over the top of the page. “It might be cheaper.”

She offered a frosty smile. “Good thing I have an iron-clad contract then.” Once again, she stared at her watch, the gesture pointed. “Again, what is it you want, Mr. Grant?”

You. In my bed. I want to feel your lips as I kiss them.
His thoughts tumbled straight to places he’d dammed up years ago. “All of you.”

Claire’s mouth gaped. “All of me?” She cleared her throat. “Excuse me? You didn’t just say that, did you?”

“I did, yes. I want to hire you. Full time. Turn your other clients over to your assistant. Or to another firm. I don’t really care. I want your entire attention focused on this wedding—on my daughter.”

****

Claire stared at Nick Grant and reined in her imagination. He didn’t want
her.
He only wanted her expertise.

If that meant Laurel got the wedding of her dreams, it would be worth it. Her other contracts were still in the early stages. Heidi, her most efficient assistant, could manage with minimal input from her.

A part of her brain cautioned her to take time to consider all the implications. Her sexy bits were shouting and jumping up and down, determined to shush the logical part. The idea of spending more time with Nick—Mr. Grant, she reminded herself—was far more appealing than it should be. And she worried she was making a deal with the devil. Business—it was all business. Yeah, right.

Chapter 2

Heidi stared, her look of horror speaking louder than any words. “You what?”

“I negotiated a new contract with Nicholas Grant. I’m going to concentrate exclusively on his daughter’s wedding.”

“But…but…we have other contracts. Ten, in fact.”

“I’m aware of that. And they’re all still in the planning phase. You are more than capable of handling things until after Laurel’s nuptials.”

Claire smirked. “Here. Make a copy of this, return a notarized copy to Mr. Grant, and file the original.” She waited, her grin growing broader as Heidi’s eyes widened at the bottom line.

“Is that a typo?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I negotiated for two more zeros on our fee.”

“Holy snickerdoodles, boss!”

“And caviar to go on top.”

“Ewwww.” They laughed and shared a sense of relief and accomplishment as they clinked coffee mugs.

Claire dialed each of her current clients to assure them that she would be available for any emergencies but that Heidi did all the preliminary footwork anyway. After returning some other phone calls, she settled back in her desk chair and thought about what she’d done.

“So what’s going on, boss?” Heidi pulled up another chair and waited with an expectant expression.

Claire did her best to look perplexed. “Not sure what you mean, hon.”

Heidi rolled her eyes. “You don’t ever go exclusive. I know Laurel is a sweet girl and her father has more money than Midas but…”

“But what?”

“Don’t go trying to look all innocent on me, Claire Vitale. I know you too well.” She waggled a finger. “You’re blushing.”

Claire fanned her face with the top file on her desk. “I am not. It’s a power surge.”

“Ha! Baloney. You are way past menopause, missy.” Heidi continued to stare at her. “It may be hormones, but not the kind you’re blaming it on.” She tilted her head like a curious robin and then her eyes widened. “Oh. My. Gosh. It’s
him
! You have a thing for Mr. Grant.”

“I do not. Never. Unh-uh. No way.”

Heidi laughed and clapped her hands together. “Yes way! You’re crushing on Laurel’s dad.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I am a professional, Heidi. I do not get emotionally involved with clients. Or their parents!”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Shush. And get out of here. One of us has to get some work done today.”

Heidi left, still laughing and teasing her.

Claire leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Yup. She was dancing with the devil and if she wasn’t careful, he’d own her soul. At the moment, though—picturing him all sexy and handsome leaning against his desk—she almost hyperventilated. She didn’t have to work very hard to conjure up the image.

She did have to work to keep her mind from delving into completely irrational territory. Hot tubs, champagne, and hand-dipped, chocolate-coated strawberries had no place on her agenda either. But she was sure thinking hard about sharing all three with Nick Grant.

****

The alert tone on her smart phone caused Claire to jump. She’d been engrossed in her daydreams about Nick Grant. Again. She glanced at the text and panicked. The wine tasting. She was late. Or would be if she didn’t get in gear.

Twenty minutes later, she dashed into the upscale restaurant’s bar where the caterer had arranged the tasting. She combed nervous fingers through her wind-tousled hair as she followed the maitre d’ to a private room in the back. She managed to settle into one of the leather chairs and catch her breath before the Grants arrived.

Laurel slid into the chair on her left while her father commanded the room from the chair on Claire’s right. She noted he angled his chair so that he was almost directly across the small round table from her. The man positively exuded power and sophistication in his charcoal gray, custom-tailored suit. And he took her breath away.

Claire chided herself. She was much too old for this nonsense. And her plans had no room for a man riding in on a white charger, sweeping her off her feet, and leaving her with a broken heart when he kept right on riding down the road.

She plastered a smile on her face and glanced toward the door to cover her reaction. “Is Justin on his way?” A busy young attorney, the groom was notorious for being late.

Laurel held up her phone as if that explained things. “Oh, no, sorry. He’s stuck at court. He texted saying for us to go on without him.”

After explaining the process of sampling wines to Laurel, Claire summoned the the wine steward, who arrived with a selection of bottles.

The steward uncorked the first one, a pinot noir, and offered the cork and first sip to Nick. He promptly waved the bottle away. A bit surprised, the sommelier retreated and returned with a second bottle, a merlot this time. With Nick’s approval, he poured glasses for Laurel and Claire.

****

Nick watched Claire sip her wine and tried not to think about her lips. “How did you become a wedding planner?”

She swallowed and took another sip, gazing at him over the rim of the flawless crystal glass. “I was always a bridesmaid, never a bride. I put so many weddings together it just seemed a natural progression. I worked at a bridal salon for a few years and then opened my own firm.”

“So…you never married?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“That was your insinuation.”

“Was it?”

“So you have been married.”

“Have I?”

The corner of his mouth quirked as he worked to suppress his laughter. He liked both the way her gaze slid down to watch his mouth and the curious look that appeared on her face—as if she were contemplating the same thing he had moments before. He had every intention of kissing Claire Vitale and kissing her soon. The curiosity in her expression changed to dreaminess before she looked up.

Her brow furrowed and something sparked behind the brown of her eyes. “Don’t you have a corporation to raid or something?”

The laugh was out before he could button it up. “I do, yes, but I’d rather be here sampling wine with you—to ensure my guests aren’t poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Claire sounded offended, as if she thought he might be serious.

Nick glanced over at Laurel holding her wine glass in the palms of both hands. “I love my daughter, Claire, but my palate is far more sophisticated than hers. Her idea of a fine wine is one that comes in a bottle with a twist off top, instead of a box.” He smiled at Laurel to take the sting out of his words. She smiled back, a bit bemused. He hadn’t teased her in ages.

“But boxes are so much easier to fit in the fridge, Daddy.” Laurel winked, and he felt a moment’s relief that she’d understood he wasn’t criticizing her. She cut her eyes toward Claire and then met his gaze, her bemusement now replaced by speculation.

Nick decided to push his luck. He reached over and with one finger, tapped Claire’s left ring finger, which remained suspiciously bare. “So, Claire, was there a Mr. Vitale?”

She’d just taken a sip and choked. Sputtering, Claire held a white linen napkin to her mouth. It came away spotted with the remains of the very fine Bordeaux. She glared at him, her full lips turned down into a frown he found most intriguing. “No.” She blinked, still scowling at him. “The only Mr. Vitale in my life was my father.”

“So, we’ve clarified your marital status, and now know you haven’t been married.” Nick was surprised at how much he enjoyed bantering with her. She also didn’t pull her hand away. Interesting.

“I do wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth, Mr. Grant, not that it’s any of your business. I was married once, a very long time ago. I reclaimed my maiden name after the divorce.”

“But it is my business, Claire. Everything about you is my business.”

“Excuse me?” Her color heightened with her anger and he wondered if her cheeks would turn the same shade of pink when she was aroused. The question became, was she angry with him, the subject matter, or that long ago fool who had loved and lost her?

The wine steward reappeared with a new bottle and fresh glasses. “For dessert, sir, may I suggest this Moscato d’Asti?” He uncorked the bottle. “I find an ice wine to be an excellent pairing with a traditional wedding cake.” He poured a little into a long, narrow wine flute and smiled as he waited for Nick to taste. “You will notice the light bubbling as it is a frizzante wine.”

At Nick’s nod, he poured full glasses for Claire and Laurel. “This wine is noticeably lighter and sweeter on the palate.” He waited again as the ladies tasted the wine. “Do you taste the ripe peach and honeysuckle tones?”

Laurel gulped the contents of her flute and held it out for a refill as she glanced at Claire. “This is yummy. Can we just have this one for the whole dinner?”

“We can certainly arrange—”

“To have a bottle just for you, Laurel. The grownups will appreciate a more sophisticated selection, honey.”

Claire scowled for a moment before she inhaled. “Speaking of grownups, I am perfectly capable of finishing my own sentences, Mr. Grant.”

“Yes, but I find you take a great deal of time explaining things. Time is money, Claire. While I have a great deal of the latter, I am perpetually short of the former.” He watched her flush deepen and enjoyed the fact he was the cause. Sooner than later, he was determined to test his theory about her passions. “Yet I find I always have time for you.”

Chapter 3

Mad enough to chew some proverbial nails, Claire sipped wine to cover her anger. She had to make a conscious effort not to bite the delicate rim of the crystal flute.

“So we’ve decided then.” Nick didn’t phrase this as a question. He simply set his empty wine glass on the table in front of him.

Laurel lifted one shoulder and made a face Claire interpreted to mean she didn’t care. Her answer confirmed that. “I don’t even like wine, Dad, so whatever you decide is fine. Except I really like the sparkly one we just had.”

“Excellent. The Merlot will do nicely for the first two courses. We’ll serve the Bordeaux with the meat course and the Moscato d’Asti with the cake. Now, as to the champagne for the toasts…”

If he suggests Dom Perignon, I’ll scream.
Claire pressed her lips together to keep from voicing her thoughts. While that brand was an excellent choice, it was so typically Nicholas Grant as to be patently transparent.