Planning for Love (18 page)

A horrible thought occurred to her. “Did Gib promise if you borrowed his car, I’d agree to anything? Remember, I warned you flat out you’re not getting sex tonight. No matter what.”

“Nah. Matter of fact, he warned I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of pulling this off. He loaned me the car out of pity.” After loading a pita with hummus and feta, he paused, hand in mid-air. “Question now is, will you take pity on me? Give me something to look forward to besides a muffin made out of whatever June’s fruit-of-the-month is?”

Ivy thought about it. She thought while scooping an extra dollop of lemony sauce onto a dolmades. She thought while the waiter topped off her wineglass. She thought while the silence grew into a thick cloud encircling their table. The entire time, it was one, single thought doing laps in her brain: maybe it was time for a new plan.

Chapter Twelve

A plan which succeeds is bold, one which fails is reckless.

—General Karl von Clausewitz

“The only acceptable reason for being up this early involves death. Or winning the lottery. And if you did win and you don’t intend to share with me, then I’m going back to bed.” Daphne dropped into the chair next to Ivy. She wore workout shorts, a thin tee, and a decidedly disgruntled expression. “Either way, if I don’t get coffee soon, something dire will happen. Murder. Mayhem. Not sure of the details exactly, but I promise you I will scrape together all my energy to pitch a fit until there is a full coffee cup in front of me.”

“Good morning to you, too.” Ivy pushed her own mug of steaming goodness in front of Daphne. “Here, I’m happy to share until the waitress swings by.” Wordlessly, Daphne lifted and drained the entire cup, slamming it back into the saucer.

Julianna twitched in her ladder-back chair at the sharp crack of china. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that our next potential bride could be sitting in this very restaurant. Image is everything.”

Despite it being not yet eight o’clock, Julianna looked bandbox neat in an apricot linen suit and a pearl choker. It bothered Ivy, since she’d chosen her own scoop-necked sundress through sleep-squinted eyes. Not until she sat down at Ann Sather’s did she open her eyes enough to notice the slew of wrinkles pleating the tangerine polka-dotted skirt. Oh, and the strong possibility (she refused to look down to confirm) she’d slipped on clashing pink sandals instead of white. And she knew without looking that her own eyes boasted steamer trunk-sized circles and puffiness. Makeup could hide a lot, but not the exhaustion toll levied by pulling off six weddings in four days. What sort of deal with the devil had her assistant struck to look so disgustingly perfect?

“The image of my
floral creations
is everything,” Daphne corrected. “I am strictly a behind-the-scenes girl. Besides, great artists are notorious for frumpy outfits and quirky personal hygiene. Do you think the Pope ever asked da Vinci to smarten up and remove his smock? Did Queen Elizabeth ever demand Shakespeare don a fresh doublet and breeches?”

“Whoa, there.” Milo swooshed into place beside the table, one hand outstretched like a crossing guard. “Want to rein in that ego, Michelangelo? Not sure there’s room at the table for all of us with that big head of yours.”

Ivy swallowed, hard. Then she bit the inside of her cheek in an effort not to break into a huge guffaw. A navy blue kimono covered with pale blue, snarling dragons draped across Milo’s shoulders. In the open neck of his white shirt fluffed an ice blue ascot. Below the cheery yellow tablecloth, Daphne’s hand clutched at Ivy’s thigh like the talons of a hissing cat. Guess she was trying to play it cool, too, rather than roll on the floor laughing. They’d learned years ago Milo took his fashion choices very seriously. And he took criticism of such very poorly.

With perfect aplomb, Julianna leapt into the breach. “Interesting outfit. I don’t recall seeing it before.”

Although Ivy interpreted
interesting
to mean ridiculous and mockable, Milo preened. “It is a vintage silk smoking jacket. Perfect for lounging through an early breakfast.” He slid into the seat across from Daphne. “Back in the good old days, everybody ate breakfast in robes.”

Daphne snorted. “We’re not back in the day. And we’re in public. You look like a gay Hugh Hefner.” Ivy sighed. Daphne’s depleted reserves of both caffeine and sugar left her tactless and irritable. Not bursting into guffaws the moment she spotted Milo must’ve used every bit of her self-control.

“Thank you. He did begin his empire right here in Chicago, you know. What better place to emulate one of our town’s greatest icons?”

“You think Hef’s an icon?” Ivy leaned forward, chin propped on her fists. “I thought your tribe idolized Liza and Bette Midler, not a guy who built his empire on parts of the female anatomy that generally make you break out in hives.”

“True. But the man turned loungewear into an acceptable fashion choice. What’s not to love?”

Coffeepots in each hand, their waitress appeared. Before she had a chance to fill the empty cups, Daphne pushed hers forward and raised a finger. “Here’s what’s gotta happen in the next five minutes: you can give me straight coffee now, but then I need you to bring me your biggest mocha latte, extra shot of espresso, double drizzle of chocolate syrup on top, absolutely covered with marshmallows. As soon as you bring it, turn right around and start making a second one. Or feel free to bring two at once. And while we decide on breakfast, we’ll need a round of cinnamon rolls for the table.”

“You betcha, hon.” The middle-aged waitress took the verbal barrage in stride, filling all four cups before hurrying away.

“You’ve got a take-no-prisoners approach to ordering. Hope that your crankiness doesn’t inspire the kitchen to spit on our cinnamon rolls.” Ivy tempered her words by slinging an arm around Daphne’s shoulders.

“If they do, it’s your fault. What on earth possessed you to call an emergency meeting this early? Did the building burn down overnight? Or maybe the White House contacted you to handle the First Daughter’s wedding? Because those are the only reasons I can think of after the week we put in to be up so early.”

Ivy surveyed the faces of her friends: Daphne’s grumpy squint, Julianna’s inquisitively arched eyebrow, and Milo not meeting her gaze, but rather stroking the lapels of his kimono. After her big revelation, she expected them to tease for a bit, but end up stalwart supporters as usual. Probably. Hopefully. Should she wait until they all had a gooey, delicious cinnamon roll before breaking the news? Everything sounded better with caramel, nutty sweetness toasting your tummy.

With a shrug, Daphne shook off Ivy’s arm. “Spill it, Rhodes, or I’m taking my liter of lattes and scooting straight back to bed. Why couldn’t whatever this is wait until we open the office at eleven?”

“Because Ben will be there.”

“Ah.” Daphne nodded slowly, then folded her arms over her chest and leaned back. “You’ve got my attention. As long as I also get an order of Swedish pancakes with lingonberries. Extra syrup. Side of sausage.”

“Before Daphne scarfs down half the menu, do you want to bring the rest of us up to speed? What’s the deal with Ben? Did he set our building on fire?” asked Milo, a facetious smirk flattening one side of his mouth.

“Not the building. Just me.” God, could she sound more like a deluded soap opera virgin? Apparently Daphne wasn’t the only one running on fumes. Ivy slurped down half of her coffee at once. “Ben and I went on a date last night.”

“After the Sigurski wedding? Where did you find the stamina?” asked Julianna. “I went home and melted into the couch.”

“Ben can be…persuasive.”

“Did he persuade your panties off?” Milo sniggered.

Fair question. After the frantic phone calls dragging them out of bed, the least her friends deserved was total honesty. “Not
this
time.”

Three mouths fell open. She’d struck them all speechless. Then the glances started. Swift, darting looks between Daphne and Milo, Julianna and Milo, then Daphne and Julianna. Ivy could tell they were trying to figure out who should take the lead in the inevitable interrogation. Their imaginary psychic powers must not have been on line yet, since the careening cue ball effect just kept going. Even the arrival of the first platter of cinnamon rolls didn’t break the pointed stares, accompanied by truly impressive eyebrow gymnastics.

She’d give them a quick recap of the April weekend. Like peeling off a bandage, right? Their judgment would only hurt for a second before she moved on to the real reason for the meeting. “After the taping of
Wild Wedding Smackdown
, Ben and I shared an…encounter.”

“Definition, please?” Milo dipped the tines of his fork in the moat of melted butter and brown sugar surrounding the rolls. “How much does an encounter encompass?”

Maybe they didn’t deserve
total
honesty. After all, Ivy wanted them to be able to look Ben in the face without blushing in a few hours. “Enough. Use your imagination.”

He licked his lips. “Don’t think you want that to happen, boss. Are we talking you dropped your handkerchief and he retrieved it? Or he dropped his trousers and you—”

Julianna clapped her hand over Milo’s mouth, stifling the rest of his sentence. “Not at breakfast. I can’t take suggestive smut at breakfast.”

“Ivy started it.”

Oh, for crying out loud! As if this story wasn’t hard enough to blurt out without dodging their interruptions. “What level of sordid detail would you like? Or should I see if we can get the elevator’s security tapes from Gib?”

Daphne dropped her fork to make a time-out sign with her hands. “You told me when I dropped off clothes for you that you’d stayed up all night talking and fell asleep on the couch. And now I find out not only did something more happen, but Gib knows? I’m your best friend, and I’m kept in the dark, but you tell Gibson Moore?”

The last thing Ivy wanted to do was hurt Daphne’s feelings. So far her summit meeting was off to a less than stellar start. “No. Of course not, Daph. I’m sorry I misled you, but I needed to keep the lid on this one. I haven’t told anyone what really happened until right this second. The only thing Gib knows is that we had drinks in the lounge at the Cavendish. Unless he’s turned into a flaming pervert and really does review the security tapes looking for skeevy behavior.”

Mollified, Daphne took another bite. “Okay. We’ll save the story of what happened in the elevator until the next time we’re knee deep in margaritas. Let’s get back to this encounter. Or should I call it a romantic interlude? How long did it last?”

“We spent the night together. And the next day. Then he left.” Then she cried into her pillow for so long she had to change out the damp blob in the middle of the night. “And I couldn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to tell me how stupid I was, to open up my heart so completely. Trust me when I say I didn’t mean to.”

“Ivy, the door to your heart doesn’t even have hinges. It’s permanently welded open. We all love that about you,” said Julianna.

Her hands began to clench on the sunny yellow tablecloth dusting the tops of her thighs. “But I knew Ben should be nothing more than a lost weekend. I went into it with every intention of a fun fling. Except we had lots more fun than I expected. Ben lights me up. He’s fantastic.” Ivy swallowed hard, realizing the person at the table she most needed to be honest with was herself. “I let myself peek into the what-if closet. What if we stole time together every few weeks as he criss-crossed the country? What if the wonderful feelings he brought out in me could last?”

Julianna covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh no. You didn’t tell him this, did you?”

“Doesn’t matter. To Ben, twenty-four hours together might as well be a long-term relationship. It’s about ten hours too close to serious for him. The man’s allergic to love. The thought of living happily ever after is so incomprehensible he can’t even say the words without laughing. We’re oil and water. He told me this, upfront.”

“Stand-up guy. Gotta admire him for that.” Milo shrugged his shoulders, wide-eyed. “What? We’re not talking about a stranger. Ben’s been nice to work with these past couple of weeks. Am I supposed to bash on him? I’m still ultimately on Ivy’s side.”

“And don’t forget it for a second,” Daphne warned, shaking her loaded fork so hard a bit of flaky pastry flew across the table. She’d demolished an entire cinnamon roll, and was now sneaking bites off of Ivy’s.

“Nobody’s choosing sides. We’re all on the same side. Even Ben and me. He just doesn’t know it yet.” Ivy turned to the hovering waitress and ordered a round of pancakes for everyone. And a third coffee for Daphne. She didn’t want any more interruptions. “That’s why I called this meeting.”

“I’m confused. If Ben doesn’t do relationships, why’d he take you out last night? Scratch that.” Daphne shook her head. “First, tell me if you made it home last night, or if you did the dawn walk of shame.”

“I was tucked into my pj’s listening to the snores from your bedroom before eleven. You know, a good roommate would’ve fallen asleep on the sofa, at least pretending to wait up.”

“True, but a good business partner remembered the twelve centerpieces for the pre-graduation party which have to be made today, and needed to recharge before recreating Evanston High School’s wildcat mascot out of orange daisies.”

“Good point.” Ivy hadn’t minded coming home to a quiet house. She’d needed a few hours to marshal her thoughts and solidify her plan. “When it comes to love, Ben and I couldn’t be farther apart. I think I repel him on a physical level when I bring up the subject.”

Julianna steepled her fingers, her square-tipped French manicure meeting at the top. “Ivy, honey, you’re not making any sense. You can’t date someone who repulses you. Which, by the way, I don’t believe for a minute. Ben can’t take his eyes off of you. Both of you click into high gear the moment the other walks into the room.”

“Exactly!” Count on Julianna to come through with a weird mixture of perception and logic. “We’re drawn to each other. I tried to deny it because I didn’t want to get hurt again. Ben tried to deny it because he doesn’t want to get involved. But this thing can’t be ignored, can’t be denied.” Ivy took a beat, looked each one of her friends in the eye before dropping her bombshell. “I’ve been planning for love my whole life. Now it’s time to put that plan into action.”

Daphne half-coughed, half-gurgled, as though trying to swallow an aborted spit take. “Sure. And while you’re at it, why not try to tame a tiger using only gummy bears and hugs?”

“Don’t be snide. I’m serious.” Although Ivy refused to admit it out loud, Daphne did have a point. The chance of her plan working was slim. On the other hand, slim was better than non-existent. Slim fueled her with hope and motivation. She’d never stepped back from a challenge just because of a lack of guaranteed success.

Fingers clenched around Ivy’s wrist, Daphne looked her straight in the eyes. “Are you telling me he’s the one?”