Mad About You (13 page)

Julie dragged her feet about going to the Carrington-Wright mansion to set up for the rehearsal dinner until she was bordering on being late. Scott would be there.

In the car, driving over, she winced, thinking about their last encounter. She hadn’t seen him since. He hadn’t stopped by at night or even called, and she didn’t know where they stood.

She didn’t know where she wanted them to stand. The last time she saw him had left her raw and confused. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

Well, she knew she couldn’t resist him. Scott was some serious catnip to her.

Four blocks away, her phone rang. She answered, murmuring a vague greeting as she concentrated on making it through the intersection.

An unfamiliar voice asked, “Is this Julie Miller, of Back to the Fuchsia?”

“Yes.”

“This is Leslie Nelson. I’m the coordinator for the San Francisco Flower Competition.”

Julie sat up, instantly alert. They’d never called her before. “Yes. How can I help you?”

“I received your application and plans for your design.”

“I’m really excited about it,” she said, heart beating.

“It’s a really great design, but unfortunately someone has already submitted something very similar, so we’re going to have to ask you to resubmit a different idea.”

Julie hit the brakes hard as she got to a stop sign. “
What?
”

“The deadline for entering has passed, but since you’d made the deadline I checked with the chair and got an okay to give you an extension, so it’s all good as long as you come to the competition with the packet including your entry form and design sketch.”

“It’s not all good!” she protested. “How can someone else be doing the same design?”

The missing drawing and application.

She had a sinking suspicion in her gut. Swallowing thickly, she asked, “Is it Hyacinth Gardner?”

Leslie paused for so long Julie didn’t think she was going to reply, but then the woman said, “I can’t reveal that information.”

Telling enough with that pause. Julie put a hand to her head. “Okay, this isn’t your fault. Thank you for giving me another chance to enter.”

“Off the record,” Leslie said in a lowered voice, “I wouldn’t put anything past Dr. Gardner. I’m sorry this happened.”

Julie murmured something incoherent and dropped the phone next to her. Now what was she going to do? The competition was next week. It’d taken her a couple months to come up with the idea, and another couple weeks to build the foundation for her sculpture. She had less than two days to come up with not only a winning design but the physical product.

She was screwed.

A driver behind her laid down on his horn. Julie flipped him off out the window but tore through the intersection, pissed.

Beyond pissed. Crushed, too, because that design was the best thing she’d ever done. Now she wasn’t sure how she was going to top that—in a week.

Since she’d been over so often, Elise had given her a code to get in the gate. She buzzed herself in and drove around the back. She got out of the Element, her hands shaking.

She took a deep breath. She’d deal with it—one thing at a time. For now she needed to focus on getting the rooms decorated for the rehearsal dinner.

One of the maids helped her unload and carry everything inside. Most of the arrangements were already made, but she held off assembling a couple centerpieces so that they’d look less staged and more organic to their setting. She instructed the maid where to put the vases, and then turned her attention to the flowers in front of her.

“Oh, excuse me.”

She turned around to find a woman in the doorway. She recognized her instantly as Zoe, the woman Elise had set up for Scott.

“I think I’m lost.” The woman smiled in self-deprecating humor. “I was looking for the living room, but I’m turned around somehow.”

“It’s just down the hall.” Julie pointed to the right.

“Thank you.” The blonde started to walk away and then stopped. “You’re the florist, right?”

“Yes.” Julie stiffened. This was the part where they always told her how to do her job better.

The blonde smiled brightly. “Your arrangements are beautiful. I’m not much of a flower person, but I notice yours. Very beautiful and not typical. Do you have a card? I’m going to give it to my mother, who spends a small fortune every week on flowers. Why should the other florist get the business when you’re so much better?”

Frowning, Julie took one from her pocket.

“Thank you.” The woman beamed and strutted out.

Julie stared after her. And then she banged her fist on the table. Wasn’t it enough that she was tall, golden, and gorgeous? Wouldn’t you know it that she was also nice?

Annoying.

The worst part of it was that she could see Scott with her, and the picture was heartbreakingly perfect. That blonde was the type of woman Prescott Carrington-Wright III should spend his life with, not someone like Julie.

The thought was
very
depressing.

As she packed up, she imagined herself with Scott. She could see it, but the picture was fuzzy. She couldn’t see where they lived—not this mansion and certainly not her studio—and she couldn’t see traveling with Scott all over the world.

But she could picture daily life, with Scott telling her about his day as they sat on the floor, naked, eating takeout, and it was great.

She sighed, and then she cursed. Damn it—she forgot her favourite clippers inside. Remembering exactly where she’d left them, she hurried back in to grab them.

Sure enough, they were on the table in the dining room. She picked them up and headed back out.

Scott’s laugh echoed down the hall. Julie paused, a pang of longing overcoming her. Without thought, she moved toward it.

A woman’s voice sounded, followed by more of his laughter. Julie stopped, frowning, knowing she should turn around and leave. Only her feet had a mind of their own and kept walking toward the parlor, as Elise called it.

She peeked in the room, seeing Scott and Zoe together. Zoe had her hand on his arm, her other hand gesturing with great animation. Whatever she was telling him was apparently funny, because Scott was laughing like there was no tomorrow.

They looked so perfect together, like they were a photo right out of
Vogue
, advertising the way everyone wanted their relationship to look.

How could Scott want to be with her when he had Zoe in front of him? Not like he seemed to remember that she existed right at this moment.

That pissed her off. But she was more pissed at herself for letting herself believe that she could have him. The trophy was out of reach, and so was Scott. She’d been a fool to think differently.

She stormed down the hall. If only this week were over. Then she could go back to normal and just do flowers. She was good at that. She didn’t need to be more.

“Julie!”

Scott’s voice caused her to stiffen, but she didn’t stop.

“Julie, wait.”

She walked faster, hearing him jog after her.

Unfortunately, he caught her arm right as she got to the door. “Let me go,” she said tightly.

He frowned at her. “You’re upset. What happened?”

“Seriously?” An incredulous puff of laughter escaped from her lips. “Maybe you and Zoe can talk about it and figure it out.”

“Zoe?” The confusion on his face turned into dawning comprehension. “Nothing’s going on between me and Zoe. We were just commiserating over being set up with each other for the wedding.”

“Uh-huh.” She tugged her arm. “I need to go.”

“I’m serious, Julie.” He stepped closer. “I’m still holding out hope you’ll be my date.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” At his hurt expression, she sighed. “Look, it’s just best if we don’t see each other.”

He dropped her arms. “Best for who?”

“Everyone.” She steeled herself. “We don’t belong together. It’s so obvious. Just because the sex is good—”

“Good?”

“Okay, great,” she acquiesced. “But great sex doesn’t mean we belong together forever. I think we’re making a mistake.”

“You’re saying this is a mistake.” He yanked her toward him and kissed her.

She melted against him despite herself. She wanted to grab him closer and hold him forever, just like this, because she loved him.

She loved him.

But then they broke apart and she noticed his really nice shirt under her hands, and his watch, and the shine of his shoes. The intelligence in his eyes. She had worn jeans on, and her fingernails were ratty.

He deserved so much more. She pulled away, her heart breaking.

Scott folded his arms and studied her, his expression stern. “So this is it? You’re giving up?”

She frowned. “I’m not giving up.”

“Then what do you call this?”

“Reality.”

“Your reality is screwed up.” He turned and walked away, anger in each step.

Julie wilted against the door. Her brain told her she’d done the right thing, but her heart told her she was an idiot.

Elise walked into the hallway as Scott rushed by her. The smile for her son faded into a confused frown as she looked at Julie. “What’s going on here?” she asked, walking toward her.

Julie wanted to let her know that her son was an ass, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the real ass here was herself.

“Julie?” Elise reached out to her.

She shook her head, swallowing the tears that she refused to let loose, and hurried out of the mansion, where she didn’t belong anyway.

Chapter Twenty

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Carrington-Wright.” Megan Steiner strode into his office and shut the door behind her. She faced him, hands on her hips, looking like a vengeful Valkyrie with her fur-topped high-heeled boots and fuzzy poncho. Megan defied every stereotype of what people expected a top venture capitalist to look like. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“This is a first.” He arched his brow and leaned back in his chair. “Usually you like to tell
me
what’s wrong with me.”

“Yeah, well you’re throwing me for a loop, so I’m returning the favor.” She sat in a chair across from him, crossed her legs, and swung her booted foot.

To say he and Megan had a contentious relationship would be a lie. If he had to define their relationship, he’d call it sibling-esque. She was like the older sister he never wanted, who enjoyed torturing him a little too much.

“I’m waiting.” She tapped the chair’s arm, as if he needed audible evidence of her impatience.

What had him off his game was Julie, but like hell was he going to tell Megan he was lovesick. “Want to tell me what this is in reference to?”

“Seriously? This is how you’re going to play it? You’re
really
in bad shape if you can’t think of a better way to evade my inquisition.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. The Spotted Cow acquisition.”

He nodded. “I admit I dropped the ball on that one.”

She pointed at him. “I saved your ass. You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t critical, but she had saved the firm several hundred thousand dollars. He liked to think he’d have caught the mistake he’d made—eventually—but it was fortuitous that Megan had noticed it before it was an issue. “I appreciate it.”

His coworker gaped at him, her lipsticked lips comically wide. “Okay, now I know something is wrong. Did you have an accident I don’t know about? Get a concussion?”

He smiled ruefully. Falling in love was an awful lot like being hit over the head, actually. “I’m just dealing with some personal things.”

“I knew it.” She threw her hands in the air. “This reeks of woman. I can practically smell her perfume all over you.”

“Julie doesn’t wear perfume.”

“Julie?” Megan’s nose wrinkled. “Is she a stripper?”

“
Julie?
” He laughed. “No, she’s a florist. What makes you think Julie is a stripper name?”

She shrugged. “You just seem like you’d go for that type.”

He arched his brow. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” She got up.

“That’s it?” he asked, surprised. “No words of wisdom? No cautionary tales?”

“You want words of wisdom about relationships from
me
?” She shook her head. “Now I know you’re bad. I haven’t had a relationship with anything other than my vibrator in who knows how long.”

“Thanks for sharing that with me,” he said with an amused smile. “That’s just what I need to know about a colleague.”

“I’m a woman. I’ve got needs.” She shrugged. “I’m not going to pretend to be sexless.”

“Would it be sexual harassment to say I’m surprised you don’t have a boy toy on the side?”

“Yes.” She grinned. “But I like that you think I
could
have a boy toy.”

Megan was stunning by any standards—not as beautiful as Julie, but attractive in her own way. And she was successful. “You could have anyone you want.”

“That’s the thing. There’s no one I want.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “So if you’ve found someone you want, don’t screw it up. It’s one in a million, finding someone you want to spend time with.”

“And if she doesn’t feel that way?”

“There’s a woman who doesn’t want Prescott Carrington-Wright III?” She pretended to be shocked. Then she resumed her regular jaded expression. “Convince her. Enlist her friends. Women always listen to their friends, it’s baffling, but people find you charming.”

“You’re really great for my self-esteem.”

“Someone has to keep you straight.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and strutted out of his office.

He stared after her. She had a point about enlisting Julie’s friends. He didn’t know any of them, but he knew who’d have a clue about her friends: Nicole.

He grabbed his coat and left work. Julie may be willing to give up, but he wouldn’t. Ever.

It was after normal work hours, but Nicole didn’t do normal. She’d probably still be at her workshop. He drove with a purpose, getting across town in record time. He parked the car in the building’s garage, jogged up the stairs to her studio, and knocked on the door.

To his surprise, a big bald man opened the door. He didn’t look friendly, even though he had the pale outline of a flower on the side of his face. “If you’re selling something, we aren’t buying,” the mammoth said.