Mad About You (8 page)

Nope.

She grinned and adjusted the vase one more time. She deserved to feel smug.
Anyone
who got such good loving deserved to be smug. They had another date tonight, and by “date” she meant he was coming over to her place.

Part of her knew she should be concerned about the future. Their lifestyles were nothing alike. But he kept assuring her they’d make it work out, and she was beginning to believe he was right. Hope was a powerful thing.

One place where they were very compatible was in bed. She thought about Scott, naked, over her, under her, and she went simultaneously gooey and edgy. Desire was such a funny thing. The more sex she had, the more she wanted. The more she consumed, the hungrier she was for more.

“You look happy,” a feminine voice said from across the hall.

She looked up to find Alexis descending the enormous spiral staircase. Instead of workout gear, the bride had on white pants and a thin orange sweater that hung off one shoulder. “How do you keep those pants pristine?” Julie asked in wonder.

Alexis laughed as she walked into the foyer. “I keep my fiancé away from them. I swear he’s like Pigpen.”

Scott was just the opposite—always put together. She imagined calling him her fiancé and blushed.

“You’re busy at work,” Alexis said as she joined her.

Julie studied the bride’s expression. “You don’t like them at all.”

“They aren’t my style. It’s not your work,” she quickly reassured. “It’s just that I’m not into fussy things the way Mom is.”

“I can see that.” Julie frowned, confused. “Why didn’t put your foot down? I mean, you seem like a strong, independent woman and not someone who’d bow down to her mother.”

“I’m the CEO of my own fitness company. I’m used to being in charge, but then when I’m with my mom it’s like I’m five again.” Alexis smiled ruefully. “It’s okay. Her heart is in the right place.”

Julie opened her mouth but promptly shut it.

Alexis laughed. “I know what you’re thinking, but she really does mean well. She wants my brother and me to be happy in our relationships, because she wasn’t happy with my dad at all.” A cloud passed over her expression. “I loved my dad, but he was an asshole to Mom.”

“Where is he now?”

“He died. He had a heart attack in bed with his mistress.” She exhaled and then smiled sadly. “So I get why Mom is hands-on in trying to make our lives perfect. It’s misguided, but she means well. And it makes her happy, which makes us happy. Between you and me, I really don’t care about flowers and parties and colors as long as I get to marry Rob.”

“Julie,” Elise called from down the hall. “Are you here?”

Alexis gave her a commiserating look. “I won’t say anything if you want to run and hide.”

She chuckled. “Your mom isn’t that bad, but I don’t want to test that.”

“Smart woman.” Alexis winked at her and strolled off.

Julie shook her head. The bride looked so familiar—she wished she could figure out where she’d seen her before. Still thinking about it, she walked down the hall in search of Elise.

The woman was in one of the front rooms, fussing over the flowers on a table. She looked up as Julie walked in. “Oh, good, there you are. I don’t know about this here, Julie. Do you think we can switch it out with the jasmine arrangement that’s in the hall?”

The vase of flowers looked perfect where it was. Julie turned to looked at Elise, who also looked flawless except around her eyes, where the skin was pinched with stress.

Normally she’d have just switched the vases and left it at that—the change wasn’t a big deal. But for some reason, instead she said, “I’ve done a lot of weddings, and anything that can go wrong usually does. Nothing is ever perfect.”

Elise looked at her shrewdly. “Are you telling me I’m overreacting?”

“Yes,” Julie said frankly. Then she shrugged. “I get it. You want a happy ever after for Alexis. But it’s happening, and this is the perfect fairy tale wedding to kick that off.”

“You’re right.” Elise visibly relaxed, even though she shifted the vase one more time. “Thank you, Julie.”

Alexis breezed in right then. “Are you torturing Julie, Mom?”

“Of course not. The things you say, Alexis.” Elise drew herself up, indignant. And then she focused on her daughter and frowned. “That’s not the outfit we bought for today.”

“I know. This is actually comfortable.” The bride winked at Julie and then kissed her mom’s cheek when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.”

Elise waved a hand as Alexis strode out of the room. “Don’t listen to Alexis. I’m not the ogre she makes me out to be.”

“Your daughter loves you,” Julie said.

“She does, doesn’t she?” She smiled softly. “I have lovely children.”

“They’re lucky, too.” Her own mom barely remembered her birthday every year, and her dad always acted like she was intruding the one time a year she visited. She’d never cared, but now that she saw what having a loving mother was like, she felt a pang of regret.

Even if it was crazy to wish for a nagging mother. Shook her head at herself and gathered up the little bit of debris she had left. “I’ll just check on—”

Alexis walked into the room, a tall blonde following close behind her. Alexis had a strange expression on her face. “Mom, I believe this is one of your guests.”

Elise brightened and walked out hands outstretched. “Zoe, I’m so happy you could make it. Alexis, you know Zoe Blanchard. You were in play school together. Remember?”

Alexis shook her head. “Like when we were three? That was twenty-seven years ago, Mom.”

“You must remember each other. You were dear friends.”

If Julie had to call it, neither woman looked at each other like they were friends much less acquaintances. The blonde looked like she was on the other end of the spectrum from Alexis. Alexis may have been born into San Francisco’s royal family, but she had a down-to-earth quality. Zoe Blanchard looked like a princess: expensive and high maintenance, with her long highlighted hair, manicured nails, and designer outfit. She was an ice princess version of Sophie Martineau.

Elise clasped Zoe’s hands and pecked the air around each side of her face. “I’m so happy you came to town for the wedding. I’m looking forward to seeing your parents. It’s been an age. Julie, did you meet Zoe? Zoe graduated from Harvard and started a company out on the East Coast, but she’s considering returning home.”

Julie nodded politely, jealous. Not because of the blonde but because of the glowing way Elise talked about her. Her own mother never talked about her that way.

Elise turned to her daughter, her arm still around the newcomer’s waist. “Alexis, take Zoe into the parlor and get her a drink.”

Her daughter rolled her eyes, but turned a friendly smile to the blonde. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a shot of whiskey.”

“Alexis,” Elise admonished.

“A double,” Alexis amended with a wink. She threaded her arm through Zoe’s arm and led her away. “Come on. You can catch me up on what you’ve been doing with your life since we used to eat grass together.”

Julie snorted in amusement, quickly stifling it when Elise frowned at her. “My children don’t appreciate how much I love them,” the socialite said. She fiddled with one of Julie’s perfect arrangements. “But I do love them. It’s because of them that I do what I do.”

“What you do?” Julie asked absently, resisting the urge to fix what Elise was messing with.

“Zoe. I invited her to be Prescott’s date to the wedding.” She rubbed her palms against each other. “He won’t be happy when he finds out, that’s my son’s way, but he’ll thank me in the end.”

Julie was sure that’d be the case. Someone named Prescott Carrington-Wright III had to be a momma’s boy.

A door shut loudly somewhere down the hall and Elise perked up. “Prescott? Is that you, darling?”

Masculine footsteps approached down the hall toward them. Julie tried not to groan—she just wanted to clean up, go home, and take a long bath before her date with Scott. He was coming by later after a family obligation.

She busied herself fixing the flowers that Elise had messed with, hoping they’d just ignore her. She should have known better, though, because as Elise’s son walked in, Elise said, “Darling, this is Julie. She’s the wonderful florist I hired for the wedding.”

“Julie?”

She froze, her head lifted. Elise’s son sounded like Scott. She turned around, her mouth falling open as she saw her lover standing in front of her.

Chapter Twelve

Julie gaped at Scott, feeling the gulf between them widen. “
Prescott?
”

“Prescott, darling, you remember Julie, I’m sure,” Elise said, oblivious to their shock. “I found her business card on your desk. I figured you’ve used her in the past.”

“Oh, he’s used me,” she said, hands on her hips.

Scott shook his head. “Julie and I—”

“Haven’t actually met,” she finished for him, mentally willing him to shut up. She stuck her hand out, eyes narrowed. “Julie Miller. And you’re
Prescott
Carrington-Wright the Third
?”

He winced. “Technically, I go by Scott Wright.”

“I’ve never understood that,” Elise said. “The Carrington-Wrights have been pillars of the community for generations. I don’t see why you have to be ashamed of that.”

“I’m not, Mom.” He kissed her cheek. “I just think it’s important to make it on your own merit.”

“Hmm.” Elise didn’t sound convinced, but there was a crash from down the hall that distracted her. “Excuse me. Oh, Scott, come to the parlor. There’s someone here you need to meet.”

They watched her leave.

And then Julie smacked Scott’s arm. “You didn’t tell me you’re the golden son of the richest family in town.”

He rubbed his arm. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters. You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie,” he said firmly. “I go by Scott Wright. I am exactly who you think I am.”

“Well, you held out on me, and I’m working for your mom.”

“Not forever.”

“But I am right now.” She gasped, her hands at her cheeks. “What would she say if she found out we were getting it on?”

“She’d say she wanted a family discount on the flowers.”

Julie hit him again. “This isn’t funny. We have a serious problem here.”

“If you think my mom’s going to care about who I date—”

“Yes, actually I do.” She pointed down the hall. “There’s a blonde lurking around who was imported to be your date to the wedding.”

He took her outstretched hand. “You’re going to be my date to the wedding.”

She tried to picture herself at his side while he toasted Alexis and her new husband. Impossible. But she had no trouble picturing Zoe. She tried to pull her hand away. “The help doesn’t attend the function.”

But he wouldn’t let go. “You aren’t the help. You’re a businesswoman who’s providing my mother a service.”

“Exactly,” she exclaimed. “It’s almost like dating your client.”

“You don’t believe that, Julie.” Scott pulled her closer. “What really has you bothered?”

The fact the Elise had brought in Zoe to be Scott’s date to the wedding, because even she had to agree Zoe was the better choice. Who’d choose a florist in grubby jeans who hadn’t even gone to junior college over a Harvard graduate who looked like a model?

But she knew he’d just deny it, so she gave him something tangible. “It’s the competition.”

“What does that have to do with us?” he asked, shaking his head in confusion.

“I don’t want her judgment affected by my dating you.”

He blinked at her incredulously. “You think she’d
punish
you? She’s not like that.”

“If I win, I don’t want anyone else to think it was because I dated you. That’s like nepotism. You said yourself that you wanted success based on your own merit.”

“When you win,” he corrected.

“
When
I win the competition, I don’t want people to have doubts about my ability. I want them to know it was because I rocked, and not because my boyfriend’s mom arranged it for me. And you can’t tell me people won’t think that if they know we’re—doing whatever we’re doing.”

“The only way to avoid that is to not see each other until the competition is over.”

“Right,” she said, her soul weeping just a little as she retracted her hand.

He crossed his arms. “That’s not acceptable.”

“It has to be.”

She watched the emotions flicker across his expression: disbelief, anger, and finally determination. The determination scared her, and she started to step backwards.

He grabbed her around the waist. “We’re not done discussing this.”

“Stop,” she hissed, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one saw them. “Your mom might walk in on us.”

“I really don’t care.” But he hefted her over his shoulder and walked them into a small room.

Which wasn’t actually a room but a large linen closet, she realized after he turned the light switch on. He set her down and then backed her into a corner.

“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously, retreating until her back hit a shelf. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“No, I’m trying to seduce you.” He pressed up against her and kissed her.

Logically, there were so many reasons to resist him, but the moment his lips touched hers, relief flooded over her. She clung to him, wanting to prove she was worthy of him.

Winning the trophy was key. It’d elevate her to an elite status, beyond mere florist. With it, she’d be recognized as an artist.

His hands slid under her shirt, warm on her back. “I’m not going to agree to stop seeing you,” he murmured against her lips, “so get that out of your mind.”

She really didn’t want that either. Somehow, in a matter of days, he’d scaled her walls and wormed his way into her heart.

But she wasn’t going to jeopardize her standing in the competition—either way. So she said, “Then we need to keep it on the down-low.”

He stilled and looked at her. “Meaning?”

“Nothing in public.”

“Define public.”

“Like no kissing in the open.” She kissed him to demonstrate because he looked perplexed. She nibbled at his lips until he groaned.