Loving Mr. July (13 page)

“What a wonderful idea,” Sharon said, giving
her the look Cynthia knew from years of friendship meant shut up
and I’ll tell you later. “Cynthia has to be there anyway, and that
way Blake and I can have company.”

“But—” Another hard kick received under the
table had Cynthia setting her mouth in a hard line. She tried to
catch Sharon’s eye.

Sharon ignored her, turning instead to
Marjorie. “And you’ll be there for the ball and auction as well,
right? Let’s go all out and get one of the box seats up front, near
the stage and dance floor. Didn’t you say there were some still
available?”

Cynthia watched as Marjorie and Sharon
exchange an odd look.

“I’ve already got one. And I was wondering
how to fill it.” Marjorie clapped her hands together in delight.
She turned to Cynthia. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, to put up
with all of us, but seeing as you have to attend anyway, please say
yes. I would love to have a table filled with family.”

Cynthia looked around the table. Four
expectant faces awaited her answer. She knew she was being
abnormally meek, but she had a hard time saying no to the
effervescent older woman. And despite being highly annoyed by
Sharon’s actions, let alone the fact that she was probably going to
have an enormous bruise on her leg tomorrow, she couldn’t say no to
her best friend either.

At least that’s what she told herself as she
nodded slowly to Marjorie. The fact that she was going to be out
with Kurt socially didn’t factor into it at all, right?

But as the dinner progressed, with everyone
enjoying Marjorie’s delicious cooking, she finally figured out that
little niggle that had been bugging her earlier. If Kurt really
wanted to be there with her, why didn’t he ask her out, as in a
real date? Why all this silliness with basically coercing her to do
what he wanted? Hadn’t they played that routine already?

“That doesn’t look like a work-related
activity.” Sharon teased Cynthia when she walked into the Grandma’s
Antiques office a few days later.

“I consider it compensatory time for medical
injuries acquired from my employer.” Cynthia kept her gaze on the
website she had open on her screen. The Napa valley bed and
breakfast was perfect for Kurt’s fantasy weekend. The 19th century
mansion with its leaded glass windows, surrounded by rose gardens,
trickling fountains and picket fences promised romance and
seclusion.

“Planning a getaway?” Sharon prompted.

“I’m ignoring you.”

“Oh let it go.” Sharon waved a hand
impatiently in her face. “You were going to miss a prime
opportunity.”

“For what, to make more of a fool of myself?”
Cynthia clicked on the ‘Packages’ link. Yep, the ‘Celebrate’
package was perfect. What woman wouldn’t want two nights with Kurt
that included a Swedish massage, champagne, fresh flowers, and
chocolate-dipped strawberries—all provided in a Victorian-decorated
room with a real fireplace and old-fashioned tub for a luxurious
bubble bath?

Sharon peered over her shoulder. “That looks
right up your alley. You could even wear some of those period
costumes you’re so fond of. Maybe even with a corset?”

Cynthia’s hand hovered over the ‘Book this
Package’ link. “I’m arranging Kurt’s fantasy getaway weekend, as
ordered. This is
not
for me.”

“My mistake,” Sharon said, shrugging her
shoulders. “And you were, you know.”

“I was what?” Cynthia asked, a frown creasing
her brow. She entered the credit card information Kurt had supplied
her with. And not for the first time thought about how completely
he trusted her, first the keys to his house, now his credit card.
She could have bought all kinds of stuff with this credit card
information by now.

“Missing a prime opportunity.” Sharon put a
hand on Cynthia’s shoulder to swivel the chair, so that Cynthia
faced her instead of the computer. “He was giving you a chance to
show him that you care about him.”

“You’re hallucinating. He is not, and I
repeat
not
interested in me.” Cynthia tucked the printout
of the reservation confirmation into a folder.

Sharon stared at her for a moment. “What
happened?”

Cynthia swiveled the chair back so she faced
the computer again. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She defiantly
hit the confirmation link. “There, I’m done. Last thing I have to
do for his weekend. He better appreciate it. But if not, too bad. I
plan to be far from the phone that weekend. And the sooner this
silly auction comes, the better.”

“My, my, my, someone’s in a bad mood.” Sharon
took off her heels, put a hand on the small of her back and
stretched. “For someone who doesn’t care, you’re pretty
animated.”

Cynthia scowled at her. “Look, you got your
way. I’m going to be at the next couple of events and the final
auction with Kurt, and you and Blake. Don’t put more into it than
there is.”

Sharon put her hands up in defense. “Okay,
okay. Got the message.” She slipped her shoes back on with a
grimace and turned back toward the stairs heading down to the main
sales floor. Over her shoulder, she left a parting shot. “But you
know you’ve just created your own fantasy weekend. I’ll bet you’ve
rented a convertible to drive up the coast with too.”

Cynthia winced, thinking of the blue
convertible Mustang she’d arranged to have Kurt borrow for that
weekend. That was just because the dealership wanted to support the
foundation, and it would be great advertising for them to have Kurt
and his auction winner be photographed in one of their best
vehicles, she told herself.

Problem was, she had trouble convincing
herself.

Chapter 15

The doorbell rang ten minutes before Kurt had
said he would pick her up. Kurt was early. Early! What man did
that? Cynthia gave a sigh of relief that she had been so nervous
about this event that she had started getting ready an hour before
she’d needed to.

She made her way to the front door of her
condo, stopping to take one last peek in the mirror in the entrance
area. The royal blue silk blouse with its wide sweetheart neckline
showed off her décolletage, covered the part of her upper arms she
wasn’t fond of, nipped in at the waist and then flared out in a
tiny peplum. She pursed her lips and looked at herself critically
for a moment. It was a style she would never have worn a couple of
months ago, but it works now, she thought. When she had a chance,
she would update the skirt too, but for now, the simple black
column did the job.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door,
and stood there stunned for a moment. Kurt wore a close fitting,
but traditional tuxedo with a simple, black-studded white shirt and
bow tie. It fit him so beautifully, she assumed it was custom made.
He’d cut his gorgeous curls way short since the photo shoot. He had
a simple white carnation in his lapel and held a bouquet of dahlias
in a deep, almost black, wine red. He looked like a dream, and he
was hers for tonight anyway.

“Well look at you,” Cynthia said, trying for
a nonchalant tone, even though her heart was racing. “You clean up
nice.”

Kurt leaned over to kiss her on the cheek as
if it was the most natural thing in the world. “You look
beautiful.”

“Trying to keep up with my pretty boy.” She
patted his cheek, keeping her tone light.

Kurt frowned. “You know I hate that
term.”

“When the shoe fits…” Cynthia winked at him.
“So are those flowers for me, or are you going to carry them like a
prop all night? Because they do look good on you, you know.”

“Would you cut that out? Of course they’re
for you.” Kurt practically shoved the flowers at her. He ran his
hand across the back of his neck. “Is this event going to last
super long?”

Cynthia’s heart sank. He didn’t want to go,
that much was obvious. So why had he insisted she go with him?
Deflated, her tone came out sharper than normal. “Trying to figure
out soon you can escape before we even get there?”

Kurt looked up quickly. “No, no, not at all.
It’s just that I’ve got something else—”

Cynthia interrupted him. “You’ve got
something else planned and you need to know how soon you can leave
without seeming impolite.” She turned to put the flowers in
water.

Kurt stopped her before she moved more than a
couple of steps. “Why are you being so touchy?”

“It’s not like I asked you to come with me to
this event, Kurt. And I have to stay long enough to make my speech
and do my thing as a board member.” Cynthia couldn’t bring herself
to address Kurt’s real question. “So if you have to leave, then
leave. I’ll get a ride home with someone.”

“Seeing as what I have planned later involves
you, that wouldn’t work too well.” Kurt brushed an errant hair out
of her face. “And if I bring you, I take you home.” He scowled at
little at her. “Do you think so little of me?”

Cynthia sighed. She felt like an idiot. The
man had come early to a date with her, even if he hadn’t actually
asked her out as he should have. And he had brought her flowers.
But she had jumped all over him. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Kurt didn’t have to explain the question.
Cynthia knew what he meant. She took a deep breath. “You make me
nervous.”

Kurt raised his eyebrows, brought his hands
to his chest in an exaggerated gesture of innocence.

Cynthia giggled. “Yes. You.” She put the
flowers down, and turned to face him, pointing a finger into his
chest. “I mean, look at you. Mr. Movie Star Handsome.” She drew
back and pointed at herself from head to toe. “And look at me. A
somewhat less pudgy than before, but definitely not model gorgeous
woman. Everyone is going to be looking at us and saying why is he
with her?”

“Cynthia,” Kurt said softly, putting his hand
up to her face. “I wish you would stop doing that. I’m with you
because I want to be with you. And what I see is a beautiful, real
woman with a pretty face...” He kissed her on one cheek and then
the other. “Beautiful blue eyes…” He kissed her near the side of
each eye. “A body with great curves…” He put his arms around her
and drew her in close. “And a very kissable mouth.” He leaned down
to brush her lips with hers.

Cynthia looked up at him in a daze. “Really?”
Had he really just kissed her? Kissed her! Voluntarily! Could that
mean that Sharon was right?

“Really.” He chuckled and tapped a finger on
her nose, breaking her momentary spell. “And while I’d like to
continue in this vein, I thought you had a speech to do?”

“Oh my gosh.” Cynthia put a hand to her face.
Of course not. What had she been thinking? If he’d really been into
her, he would have continued, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he? “You’re
right. I totally forgot.” She peeked at her watch. “Good thing you
were early. We’ve still got time.”

Kurt looked startled. “I was early?” He
pulled up his jacket sleeve and frowned down at the empty paler
patch of skin where he normally wore his watch. “That’s got to be a
first.”

~ ~ ~

The Bocher Foundation’s ‘Contributor
Appreciation Dinner’ brought many of the city’s most philanthropic
citizens together every year. Kurt had attended before as an escort
for his mother, and knew a number of the attendees through his
business network. But Cynthia’s natural ease in moving from group
to group truly surprised him. Here was a woman who not only seemed
to be acquainted with just about everyone in the room, she knew
details about their lives that she used to make even the quietest
person join in with her in animated conversation.

He thought back to some of the women he had
dated, the ones his brother had jokingly referred to as his latest
arm decorations. While he knew it wasn’t exactly politically
correct, Blake had a point, as they did little more than smile when
he’d done the obligatory socializing his position required.
Cynthia, on the other hand, clearly belonged in a class of her own.
He had practically turned into her arm decoration, because she
carried the conversations with such ease.

As they traveled together about the room,
Kurt’s admiration grew. Cynthia had the little old ladies laughing
and patting her hand. The younger women preened when she admired
their appearance, or asked about their children. She had been
kissed on the cheek by an annoyingly large number of men around his
age, a fact that had Kurt holding back uncharacteristic jealousy.
And she even managed to adroitly deflect the impolite comments of
an older gentleman, putting a warning hand on Kurt when she’d felt
him tense up, ready to intervene.

“You should have let me say something,” Kurt
told her, after they’d moved on to their dinner table. “That was
downright rude.”

“He’s from another era,” Cynthia murmured.
“He’s had some strokes that rewired his brain a bit. He’s less
inhibited now, so he sometimes blurts out things that in the past,
he probably wouldn’t have. So I let it go. He’s harmless. Besides,
if you’d affronted him, Mrs. Bocher wouldn’t be too happy. That man
is her brother.”

“No excuse.” Kurt let out a deep breath and
tried to school his features to a calmer place when he caught
Cynthia’s amused look.

As they settled into the dinner, Kurt noticed
Cynthia just pushing her food around. He gave her a little nudge to
draw her attention away from the annoyingly chirpy woman on her
other side to whisper. “It’s not as bad as some conference dinners,
why aren’t you eating?”

“Too nervous,” she replied in an
undertone.

He raised his eyebrows and waited for
more.

“About the speech,” she whispered, but
couldn’t say more because at that moment, the emcee of the night, a
local radio personality, introduced her.

“And now, please help me in welcoming Cynthia
Rowe, who will be giving a talk about the Bocher Foundation’s work.
Cynthia is a local businesswoman, part owner of Grandma’s Antiques,
a store I’m sure many of you are familiar with, as well as a
marketing consultant. Cynthia has volunteered for the Bocher
Foundation for many years now. I’m sure many of you in the room
tonight have encountered her considerable skills in
negotiation…”