Best Laid Plans (Dearly Beloved) (3 page)

“I have an interest in a boutique winery in Napa Valley. They’ve had several excellent vintages in the past several years. We’ll use them. Make a note, Claire. I want the caterer to display the labels prominently. The winery can use the advertising.”

Claire opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Business. It was always business with this man. Time is money. Chop-chop.

“You have something to add?” His arched eyebrow all but dared her to challenge him.

She mentally counted to ten to calm down. Laurel didn’t care about the wine selection. She was an appletini-sort-of girl.

If Claire was honest with herself, it
had
been easier to deal with the wine selection with Nick—Mr. Grant—present. The man might be overbearing but he knew his wines. “No, Mr. Grant—”

“Nick.”

“Mr. Grant.” His smile wasn’t quite a smirk but she wanted to wipe it off his face anyway. Or slap it off, which would be ever so much more satisfying.

She inhaled. What was wrong with her? Nick Grant.
That’s
what was wrong with her. He pushed her off center and kept her perpetually off balance.

He exhaled an exaggerated puff of air. “And here I thought we’d settled that already.” He offered her a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing smile. “You
will
call me Nick before Laurel walks down the aisle, Vitale.”

Was that a twinkle in his eyes or just a trick of lighting? Claire wasn’t sure and the flutter in her heart convinced her not to examine it too closely. She’d figured out that he called her by her last name as a way to needle her. Well, two could play that game. “You sign the checks, Mr. Grant, so that makes this business.”

“I can arrange to fire you, Claire.”

Laurel gasped and grabbed her hand. “No. Dad! I need her. You wouldn’t dare. Would you?”

The girl’s bottom lip quivered, so Claire patted her hand. “No, he wouldn’t, Laurel. He’s already played that card. And I—”

“Trumped me. Then negotiated for a much better deal. You would do well in the boardroom, Claire.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes. “I do well at whatever I set my mind to, Mr. Grant, which at the moment is your daughter’s wedding.”

Nick offered her that wolf’s smile again before pushing back from the table. “Indeed,
Ms.
Vitale. What’s next on our agenda?”

“A spa day, Mr. Grant. Massage, facial, and new hair style plus a color consultation for Laurel. Shall I call the spa and request a second appointment for you?”

He laughed as he stood and held both her chair and Laurel’s. “Touché, Vitale. I think I’ll pass. I’ll have the limo drop me at the office and then the car is yours for the rest of the day.”

In the back seat of the luxurious car, Claire was pinned between Nick and Laurel. His thigh branded hers where they touched. Though she hunched her shoulders and kept her hands clenched in her lap, his upper body crowded hers. She cut her eyes in his direction, trying to get a glimpse of him. If she could see his expression, she could decide if he was touching her on purpose. Though why he’d want to…

She jerked her thoughts back from the precipice. Nicholas Grant could have any woman he wanted. The idea he would hit on a middle-aged wedding planner boggled her, yet it certainly fueled some amazing fantasies as she drifted off to sleep at night.

The driver took an abrupt left turn and Claire all but sprawled across Nick’s lap. Her gaze fixed on his face as the old Mae West line about being happy to see someone flashed through her mind. Nick couldn’t be happy to see her. Could he?

He offered a slow smile as his hand found the hem of her skirt and her thigh. The heat from his palm scorched her and she only hoped the silk nylons she wore didn’t burst into flames. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she sorted through—and discarded—all the implications.

She didn’t realize the car had rolled to a smooth stop at the curb in front of Nick’s office building until he coughed politely. Claire blinked as if she’d just awakened from a nap. She looked around, still feeling bemused and slightly out of sync with the world.

“As much as I’m enjoying your presence, Claire, I fear I do have some work to do.”

Blushing to the point she’d swear she was having a hot flash, she scrambled off his lap and remembered to breathe. She decided she needed to reassess her reaction to romance novels. Women absolutely could forget to breathe when in the arms of their heroes. Or villains, as the case might be.

Nick leaned over and kissed Laurel on the cheek. “Bella Italy for dinner tonight?” He smiled when she agreed, but he continued to watch Claire. She recognized the speculation in his expression. “Would you care to join us?”

“Oh yes, please, Claire! Will you?” Laurel looked so hopeful, Claire couldn’t refuse.

“Thank you, yes. I’ll meet you for dinner. I’ll get directions from Laurel.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

She opened and closed her mouth several times. “I can drive.”

“I’m sure you can. But I’m picking you up. And I will take you home after.”

Getting into an argument over something as trivial as picking her up for…what? A dinner date? Dinner…outing? Dinner. Just dinner. It didn’t have to be anything more. Or less.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30. We have eight o’clock reservations.” Nick exited the car before she could reply, slamming the door shut.

Claire flopped into the space he’d just vacated and hissed out an exasperated sigh. “Your father makes me crazy.”

Laurel laughed, going so far as to clap her hands together in delight. “Oh, Claire. Me, too.” She caught her breath and settled back against the rich leather seat. “I don’t think I could get through this wedding without you. I’m so glad you convinced Dad to sign an exclusive contract.”

She almost choked. “I…You’re father told you that?” Laurel beamed and Claire couldn’t say anything to burst the girl’s bubble of happiness. Instead, she patted Laurel’s arm. “After the Japanese fiasco, I was terrified of what he’d dream up next to ruin things for you.”

Laurel beamed again. “I’m so glad you have my back!”

Yeah, she had Laurel’s back, but who had hers?

Chapter 4

Walking through the restaurant, Nick’s palm felt warm and comforting where it rested on the small of her back. Even so, Claire’s nerves sent tingles all the way to her fingers and toes. First, he’d picked her up in his very expensive European sports car. Alone. Then he’d put the top down for the drive to Bella Italy. And now, they were being seated in what had to be the most romantic spot in the whole restaurant—a secluded booth complete with candles and a view out the window of the fountains and garden.

She’d expected to find Laurel waiting at the restaurant but the girl was conspicuously absent—not to mention only two place settings graced the table.

“Laurel—”

“Had a last-minute change in plans.”

Claire noticed his smirk—did a man like Nick smirk? Distracted by that thought, she started to sit on the side with the worst view but he guided her to the other side. “Force of habit,” she murmured.

He settled on the bench across from her. “Oh?”

“When I’m working with bridal parties, I always make sure my client has the good seat that includes the one with the best view.”

“I think
I
have the best view.”

Heat flushed her face and she wished she had a menu to fan herself with. A bus boy appeared and filled their glasses with ice water. She waited until he moved away before she said, “If I didn’t know better, Mr. Grant, I might think you’re flirting with me.”

“Then you would think correctly.”

Claire had picked up her glass and was swallowing—or attempting to. The cold liquid did not cooperate and she sputtered. She managed to gulp what liquid was left in her mouth so it didn’t dribble down her chin as she gaped at him.

Nick looked amused and waited until she was breathing normally before he spoke. “Why does that surprise you?”

“Why wouldn’t it? Technically, you are my employer. And…uhm…”

He leaned back and watched her, arms folded across his chest. “I can see the wheels turning. And what, Claire?”

“I’m not exactly your type.”

The waiter appeared and before she could ask about menus, Nick ordered an antipasto plate for two, entrees, and Caesar salads, along with a selection of wines. When the waiter disappeared, he focused on her. “And how is it that you know what my type is?”

She glowered, or hoped that’s what her expression conveyed. “See? That’s something else. You aren’t
my
type.”

“You want a man who is a doormat?”

“Well…no.” She held up a finger to silence him when he opened his mouth to continue. “But a man doesn’t have to be the extreme opposite.”

“And that would be?”

“A chest-thumping alpha male.”

“I don’t thump my chest.”

“Metaphorically speaking. And stop looking so amused. You know, I am perfectly capable of reading a menu and deciding what I would like to eat for dinner.”

“Is Italian one of your many accomplishments?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. The menu is in Italian. Pardon me for presuming you couldn’t read it.” Claire opened her mouth and snapped it closed again.

Nick chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “You’re spinning your wheels again. Don’t think so hard, Claire. Lean back, drink some excellent wine, and eat some wonderful food while we visit and get to know one another better. There’s nothing dangerous about that. Men and women out on dates do this all the time.”

“There. See? That. What you just said. This is
not
a date.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Read my lips, big guy. This. Is. Not. A. Date. I don’t date clients.”

“Technically, my daughter is the client. She signed the contract.”

“And you amended it.”

“Let’s not get the lawyers involved. Why can’t you admit you find me fascinating and want to spend the evening getting to know me better?”

“Whoa. Ego much?”

It was Nick’s turn to retort but the waiter appeared with the antipasto plate and their salads. The sommelier followed in his wake with a bottle of wine. After the wine tasting ceremony and Nick’s approval, the wine steward poured a Pinot Noir into her glass. She stabbed a square of cheese, pretending it was Nick.

She closed her eyes as the flavors burst on her tongue. “Mmmmmm.” She chewed and swallowed. “This is—”

“Amazing.”

“Don’t finish—”

“Your sentences?”

“It’s very—”

“Rude.”

Claire glared again and refused to say another word.

****

Nick decided she had a very pretty scowl but then every one of her expressions was pretty, so far as he was concerned. “I’m going to break the first rule of negotiating, Claire.”

“And that would be?”

“Never admit when you’re really interested.” She didn’t say anything. Considering how talkative she was normally, he wondered at the cause. He could play a waiting game or he could make another move. “I just broke the rule.”

“Wha—”

Her voice squeaked and he decided he was amused by the cute sound. Claire was not a cute woman. Attractive, curvy, intelligent, sassy—very, very sassy—but she wasn’t
cute
.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “Are you saying you find me interesting?”

“No.” A look of consternation followed by one of relief washed across her features and he couldn’t decide if that pleased him or pissed him off. “I am saying that I am interested
in
you.” Color stained her cheeks once more. Good. He had the upper hand again. “Though that’s not to say you are uninteresting. I find you mostly intelligent.”

“M-m-mostly?” She sputtered and her eyes narrowed to slits.

“You have your…what does Laurel call them? ‘D’uh moments’?”

“I do not.”

“Yes. You do.” He couldn’t control the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Oooooh.”

“Well. That’s certainly erudite.”

Claire inhaled several times and he enjoyed the rise and fall of her breasts. From what he could surmise of their size and shape, he’d bet money they were firm but lush and would fill his hands nicely when he caressed them. He’d been hoping to glimpse her cleavage tonight but she’d worn a high-necked dress.

“You enjoy infuriating people.”

“I do, yes.” He chuckled as her expression changed to the one he identified as her determined face. “Don’t bother trying to ignore me. I’ll just find another of your buttons to push.”

“I don’t have buttons.”

“See?” Before he could react, she smacked his arm. Hard. She was in darn good shape. He couldn’t hold the laughter, so it spilled out and added fuel to the flames he’d kindled. “You have many buttons, Claire. One of these days I hope to enjoy unfastening them.”

Chapter 5

Claire didn’t remember dinner. Or dessert. Nick’s comment about her buttons had her teetering all evening. The trip home remained a blur, despite the magnificent scenery. Normally, she loved to drive along the coast. Watching the ocean was a favorite pastime. That said, all coherent thoughts had fled.