Stand-In Groom (25 page)

Forbes rested his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her close to kiss her temple. “I am so happy you never decided to become a criminal defense lawyer.”

8

Lafitte’s Landing echoed with the hushed tones of student workers late Thursday afternoon. Anne dropped her duffel bag on the floor just inside the main ballroom. Her cousins Kevin, Jonathan, and Bryan and several of their friends approached her.

“Thanks for coming, guys. Here’s the deal. Within the next couple of hours, I expect several deliveries of large items. I’ll need y’all to help unload the trucks and bring everything in. Once it’s all here, then we’ll worry about where it goes. Any questions?”

“Yeah—what time’s dinner?” Bryan elbowed one of his friends and winked.

“Pizza. Six o’clock. On me.” Even though she was paying them to be here, college boys couldn’t go but an hour or two without eating. Instant gratification to keep them happy until they received their paychecks next week. “Oh, and there’s a big ice chest full of sodas in my car if one of you will go out and get that.”

Footsteps reverberated from the tiled entry. She tingled from blond hair to pedicured toenails. George strolled in, twirling his key ring around one finger. How could she not have noticed his muscular physique before? His snug, heather gray T-shirt clung to the contours of his shoulders, chest, and upper arms as if he should be on a TV commercial for exercise equipment. His worn-in jeans looked like they’d been tailored to fit. He’d had his hair trimmed since she last saw him, and his milk chocolate eyes sparkled when their gazes met. He had no right to look so utterly sensuous when she was trying to maintain a safe emotional distance.

“Hello! Delivery!”

Anne jerked out of her trance at the shout from the opposite end of the building. She grinned at George. “Looks like you timed your arrival perfectly.”

His forced frown couldn’t quite draw down the corners of his perfectly shaped lips. “And here I’d hoped I’d missed all the manual labor and would be able to stand back and direct.”

“Nope. That’s my job.” With a sweeping motion of her arm, she invited him to join the boys, who trooped toward the service entrance. “What was it you said earlier this morning on the phone about doing whatever I need you to do?”

“You thought I was serious?” He tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked from heel to toe.

That dangerous grin of his nearly dismantled her resolve. “ ‘Deadly serious,’ if I recall correctly.”

His laughter filled the cavernous room…and her heart. “You’ve got me there. I’d best go see where I can lend a hand, then.”

To keep from watching him walk across the room, she turned to her bag and withdrew several CDs. She’d gotten keys to everything in the building from Meredith, including the cabinet containing the sound system components. She dropped five discs into the CD changer, switched on the surround sound, and enveloped the hall with the classic tunes and sultry vocals of Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Dick Haymes, Bing Crosby, and Nat King Cole.

“Annie, these are so cool.” Jonathan and three of his buddies grasped the corners of an enormous board. She’d gone through thousands of stock photos of Mardi Gras to find images that would add ambience. Each had been enlarged, cut into four pieces, and mounted to twelve-feet-wide-by-eight-feet-high boards and would cover the walnut paneling of the room, stacked two high.

“They should be numbered on the back, so put the face against the wall.” She directed them toward the far corner as George and the other three boys carried in another.

“What’s this music?” one of the boys asked, but a sound pelting from her three cousins stopped him from further comment.

“Guys, I’ll tell you what I’ve told these three.” Anne put her arm around the shoulder of the boy who’d asked and drew the others in with her gaze. “If you really want to woo a woman, don’t play any of that hip-hop, R&B junk. Show her you have style. That you appreciate the finer things in life—like the classics. This is the most romantic music in the world. And it’s a lot easier to dance to.”

“Don’t laugh,” Jonathan chimed in. “It really works. How d’you think I got Kelli to go out with me?”

Anne laughed with them as they trooped out to bring in the next two boards. She pulled out the diagrams she’d composed with the designer, along with her measuring tape.

“Looking for a carpenter?” A woman about ten years Anne’s elder entered, juggling two-by-fours more than twice her height.

“Hey, Pamela! The pictures look fantastic.” Anne reached for the end of the boards. “I’ll help you bring the rest of this in.”

“Nah, Trevor came with me to help. You just get to marking where everything goes, and I’ll get to work on these brackets.”

Following the measurements on the chart, Pamela and her husband installed the mounting boards, which would be removed and the holes filled and stained to match the paneling afterward. They used an impressive arsenal of power tools and laser levels that shot a line all the way down the length of the room. Anne took the thumbnail printout of the pictures around and slapped the corresponding panel numbers up where she wanted them, using the high-tech tools of a Magic Marker and sticky notes.

She hummed along with the music, singing when she didn’t have to concentrate so hard.

The rented ironwork arrived as the last of the mural boards were unloaded. “Just stack those up there in front of the stage area. We have to get the pictures up before we can do anything with those.”

“I hope you’re going to take lots of pictures of this for your Web site, Annie.” Bryan kissed her on the cheek. “I can’t wait to see what it looks like all put together.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to see the photos.” George cuffed the younger man around the back of the neck and escorted him back out the door.

She frowned, trying to figure out what that comment meant. His employer was supposed to be media shy, given that he’d gone to great lengths to make sure his wedding planner didn’t know for whom she was working.

Her timer beeped at a quarter after five as she posted the last two numbers. Time to order pizza. She snagged her planner and phone and perched on top of the ice chest to call her favorite Italian restaurant. No fast-food pizza for this crew, with as hard as they were working.

She stood when George and the boys approached, pointing at the cooler. “What do y’all want on your pizza?” A cacophony of answers showered her and she reduced it down to one word:
everything
.

George fished his wallet out and handed her a credit card. “Expense account.”

Excellent. One less thing for her to have to keep track of. “Thanks.” With the boys’ chatter, Pamela and Trevor’s power tools, and the music, which the guys had turned up to hear over the rest, Anne stepped into the office and pulled the door closed behind her. She ordered from Giovanni’s all the time, and they always accommodated her, no matter the volume of food she needed.

When she opened the door, all she could hear was music and voices—no power tools. Hopefully Pamela hadn’t run into a problem. She hurried down the hall into the ballroom.

The seven college boys swayed back and forth, arms around each other’s shoulders, singing “That’s Amore” at the top of their lungs, doing their best to drown out Dean Martin. Pamela and Trevor Grant waltzed across the empty parquet floor, sawdust and all.

“See,
that’s
what I was talking about.” Anne had to raise her voice for the guys to hear her. “That’s romantic music.” She gasped when George grasped her hand, pulled her out onto the dance floor, and twirled her around.

“Yes, it is.” His breath tickled her ear as he drew her close and swung her around the room.

The grace she’d only had a taste of that afternoon when he’d surprised her in the supply room proved to be greater than she’d suspected. Heat burned through her T-shirt at the small of her back where he held her. Muscles rippled under the gray cotton fabric
where her hand rested on his shoulder. Her trainers squeaked against the shiny wood floor.

Then he started to sing. No, not sing. Croon. Just like Dean Martin. Her knees wobbled. His gaze captured hers, and the rest of the world disappeared. The song ended, and he twirled her, then pulled her back into his arms and dipped her. Gently, he raised her until their noses almost touched.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and he swallowed hard. “We need to talk.” His voice cracked.

“Yes.” She allowed him to take her hand and used the silent walk to the office to regain her composure. Once inside the small room, she perched on the edge of the old wooden desk.

He closed the door and leaned against it. “Anne, there’s so much I want to say to you, but…”

“But you’re bound by your word to your employer not to.” She smiled. “I know I’ve put you in a difficult place by demanding that you be completely honest with me. I don’t expect you to tell me what you’ve sworn to keep secret.” She dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. “We all have secrets.” She had to tell him about Cliff. Before he found out from someone else. “Speaking of secrets, there’s something I need to tell you.” She glanced at him.

His relaxed posture encouraged her. “Anne, no matter what you tell me, it won’t change the way I feel about you.”

The way I feel about you
…and that was? Her heart careened. Not what she was here to discuss with him.
Focus!
“Before we figure out what our relationship is, there’s something in my past you should know. I…” It was one thing to tell a family member. Quite a different thing to tell the man working his way into her affections. “I’ve told you I was engaged to be married a little more than ten years ago.”

His easy expression didn’t change, except for a slight raising of his dark brows. “I never expected you wouldn’t have broken relationships in your past.”

Oh, it had been broken, all right. “That’s not the whole story.”
Trepidation coursed through her. “I was engaged to Cliff Ballantine. Back before he was ‘Cliff Ballantine.’ ”

“And?”

“And…” She shrugged. “I just thought you should hear it from me before someone else in the family slipped up and let it out.”

He nodded, seeming to contemplate her words. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you still…have feelings for him?” He crossed his arms and leaned his head to the left.

“If contempt counts as having feelings for him, then yes. You know what happened—he took advantage of me and then left me in the lurch when he didn’t need me anymore.” At his silence, she dropped her gaze. Meredith had been right. The truth about her past upset him.

The tips of his athletic shoes appeared beside hers. He cupped her chin and raised her head. “Then he’s the biggest fool in the world.” He leaned forward and kissed her, his lips warm, soft, and electric.

Tears burned twin trails down her face. She touched his cheek, and he trembled. He raised his head, gave her another quick kiss, then pulled her into his arms. “Oh, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

Lightning bolted through her when he kissed the side of her neck. “I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.” She stepped back. “But George, until I’ve figured out how to forgive Cliff, I’ll never be over him. I’ve been praying about it, but I just can’t seem to get over the anger.”

He took a tissue from the box on the desk and dried her face. “Perhaps if you talked to him.”

“Ha!” She shook her head. “There’s no way I’d ever be able to get in touch with him. He’s probably surrounded by people whose only job is to keep commoners like me away from him.”

George traced the contours of her face with his fingertips. “You’d be surprised what God can bring about.”

“You’re such an optimist.” She stepped back into his open arms and relaxed into his embrace. “The only way I’d be able to talk to Cliff Ballantine is if he were to walk through those doors.”

A sound rumbled in George’s chest. “Stranger things have happened.”

H
eadlights flashed in Anne’s rearview mirror. Who in the world would be pulling into her driveway at three o’clock in the morning? She parked and cut off the engine, then reached into the center console for her pepper spray.

The car pulled up beside her, and she released a shaky breath when she recognized Jenn’s classic Mustang. Wearily, she climbed out and fumbled with her keys to locate the master for the back door.

“You just getting in?” Jenn called in a hushed voice.

Anne nodded. “And I feel guilty about leaving when I did. There’s still so much to finish tomorrow—I mean today.”

Jenn skirted her car and put her arm around Anne’s waist. “If Fridays weren’t one of my busiest nights of the week, I’d offer to help.”

“I know. Thanks. How come you’re getting in so late?”

“I went out with some of the staff for midnight breakfast after closing. Sort of a celebration. We scored a ninety-eight on our latest health inspection.”

“The surprise inspection? Jenn, that’s great.” Anne looked down to find the right key for the back door.

“So was George there tonight?” In the yellow glow from the porch light, mischief glimmered in Jenn’s eyes.

Anne’s cheeks burned, and she focused on getting the door unlocked.

“Anne?” Jenn grabbed the keys. “Something happened tonight, didn’t it?”

The memory of George’s kisses—the one in the office and his good night just a few minutes ago—sent goose bumps racing up and down Anne’s body.

“Oh my goodness. He kissed you, didn’t he?”

Was she that easy to read? She nodded, unable to speak.

Jenn hopped up and down, her blond-streaked red ponytail bouncing about her shoulders. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew the first time I saw him he was the one for you.”

Anne laughed. “Jenn, the first time you saw him, you thought he was a client I was planning a wedding for.”

She shook her head. “Nope. Even then. I knew somehow the two of you would end up together. He was too interested in you to be engaged to someone else.” She waved her hand to fend off a dive-bombing june bug. “Meredith and I started making plans as soon as she met him.”