Stand-In Groom (29 page)

Halfway to the front door, a vaguely familiar young woman grabbed George’s arm.

“George, you have to introduce me to the event planner!” The girl’s voice carried over the din of guests and the zydeco band playing their hearts out on the other side of the room.

His tight smile and the slight bow he made gave a good indication the girl wasn’t an acquaintance of his. He led the girl to Anne. “Miss Alicia Humphrey, I’m pleased to present Miss Anne Hawthorne, who is solely responsible for planning this gala.”

Embarrassment crept up to burn her cheeks. “I wouldn’t say
solely
responsible.” She smiled and finally recognized the young actress. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Humphrey.”

The girl, who couldn’t be any older than Courtney, took Anne’s proffered hand in both of hers. “I want to hire you to plan my wedding. Court’s been telling me all about what you’re doing for her, and I just have to have you do mine. I’m getting married at Christmas at home in Baton Rouge. With me living in Malibu, I can’t do it myself.”

Anne’s heart raced. Another celebrity wedding meant another influx of income. She really would have to take on a partner. George bowed and excused himself.

George. She didn’t know another person who possessed more experience in planning high-profile social events. He wanted to stay in America but disliked his current employment. Would he consider… ? More to the point, would she consider taking him on as a partner? Could she trust him?

“Miss Hawthorne?”

“I’m terribly sorry—my mind wandered there for a moment.” She smiled at her newest potential client. “Tell me about what you want for your wedding.”

Twenty minutes later, Alicia Humphrey floated away on her director-fiancé’s arm, Anne’s card in her hand. Although Anne didn’t
usually make house calls, nor appointments to meet with clients on Saturdays, she’d be visiting Miss Humphrey at her hotel at eleven tomorrow morning.

Throughout the evening, she made a point of speaking with the local VIPs in attendance, including the mayor and the state senator from their district, just so they might keep her in mind should they need any event-planning services.

As the locals began to leave, more of the Hollywood crowd trickled in. She walked past the food tables, pleased to see all the dishes were as full as if the party had just started. As usual, she’d been impressed by Major O’Hara’s staff. All evening, she’d switched over to the frequency channel they’d chosen and listened to the constant chatter between the kitchen and the table staff. He’d also taken charge of the student employees working as servers and made them part of his battle-ready army.

At midnight, as the crowd waned, she signaled Major to pare down the savory foods and put out more sweets and coffees.

She stifled a yawn. Speaking of coffee… Slipping into the kitchen, she smiled at the sous-chef, then stopped at each of the four commercial coffeemakers and inhaled the fragrance of each.

There, the one that was still brewing. Cinnamon hazelnut. Had to be. Like a pro, she slipped the carafe out and slid a cup under the basket, not letting a drop of the precious liquid go to waste. She turned with her stolen treasure to find Major standing behind her, hands clasped behind his back like a drill sergeant.

“Hi.”

“Anne Hawthorne, you know no one is allowed in my kitchen except my staff.”

She held the mug toward him. “You don’t happen to have any cream on hand, do you?”

He tried to stare her down, but she knew him too well. His frown broke, and he pulled a carton of half-and-half from behind his back. He even poured it and produced a spoon and crystal bowl of sugar. “I’d started to wonder how long it would be before you
had to have a caffeine fix. You know I only make that sissy-flavored coffee because of you. Why a Louisiana gal like you can’t be happy with good ol’ chicory.”

She leaned against the counter beside him. “Thanks, Major. I love you, too.” She sipped her treat while he reviewed his evening. Around them, his staff cleaned up their work areas and packed away equipment, leftover food, and unused ingredients.

“I can return a lot of the unused items.”

“No.” Anne downed the last of her coffee and poured another cup, letting Major doctor it for her again. “Donate it to University Chapel’s food closet. Put the cost for all of it on the invoice. He can afford it.”

“He? You mean Cliff?” Major spat the name out.

Anne leaned into his side. “I know why I’m angry at him. Can I assume your bad feelings are on my behalf?”

“He stole my girlfriend.” He put his arm around her shoulders.

“I was never your girlfriend.”

“I wanted you to be.”

“You never asked.”

“I didn’t think your aunt and uncle would approve.”

“Aunt Maggie loved you like a son—still does, even though you’re her competition now instead of her favorite employee.”

“Am I going to have to hate this George character now, too?”

Anne leaned her head to the side to gaze at her friend. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve watched him all night. He’s in love with you, y’know.”

She frowned at him. “Weren’t you the one who sat there in the break room just a couple of hours ago, egging me on in being angry at him?”

Major quirked the left side of his mouth. “Yeah. But I’ve had more time to think about it. He was looking for you for a while before he gathered the staff together. I think he was planning to tell you privately.”

Guilt started to replace the righteous indignation she’d used as
a shield between herself and George all night.

“You don’t know how hard this is for me to say, but you need to forgive him.”

Tingles started at her toes and shot all the way to her scalp. “I know.”

He crooked his elbow around her neck and pulled her close to kiss her temple. “See if you can convince this George fella to stay around. He sorta grows on a body.”

She patted his arm where it rested across her throat. “Oh, I’ll see what I can do.”

8

At 2:00 a.m., Cliff and Courtney’s limousine drove away from Lafitte’s, taking the last of the paparazzi with them. George pulled the radio earpiece off and let out a big sigh. “Wonderful job tonight, gentlemen. Let’s go find Anne and see if we can call it a night.”

“Amen to that,” Jonathan agreed. “Fourteen hours is
way
too long to work in one spell.”

George shook his head as the man twenty years his junior trudged into the building. Oh, to have to work only fourteen hours at a spell. Several of the service staff passed them, dressed in their shorts, T-shirts, and thong sandals. The boys ahead of him picked up the pace, ready to be released to go home.

Anne sat at one of the tables near the kitchen signing time cards. Major O’Hara straddled a chair behind her, his denim chef’s tunic unbuttoned to reveal the UL–B
ONNETERRE
T-shirt beneath, massaging her shoulders.

George tried not to be jealous, recalling they were old friends, and continued around to the coffee service cart beyond them.

“Plain coffee is brown; flavored is white,” Major said, leaning his head back to tell him.

George lifted the brown carafe.

“Man after my own heart.” The caterer raised his Styrofoam cup in salute.

George returned the gesture and sank into the chair on Anne’s other side. She wrote the time and signed each card as fast as she could, trying to get the kids out as soon as possible. How many of them would leave here and go out now? He’d heard his valet-parking boys discuss some kind of big event going on tonight down on Fraternity Row. Knowing college kids, it would still be going on at this hour, if the police hadn’t been called in yet.

Anne’s makeup couldn’t hide the dark circles beneath her eyes. Limp tendrils of her hair had come out of the french twist at the back of her head, and she tapped the fingernails of her left hand on the table as she worked. She wouldn’t leave until everything was finished and the place locked down for the night.

“Are some of the staff staying to help clean up?” Major asked, looking around at the mess.

“We have a cleanup crew coming in tomorrow,” George answered. “Meredith is supervising that so Anne doesn’t have to come back up here.”

She glanced up at him in surprise. “What? When was that decided?”

“Meredith and I discussed it last week. She said if they run into any problems, she’ll call you. She talked to Pamela and Trevor yesterday and arranged for them to come remove the murals. You’ve already scheduled the rental company to come pick up what belongs to them, and I supplied Meredith with my copy of the list so she knows what to set aside. The rest belongs here, and it’s her staff who will be working, so she didn’t feel your presence would be necessary. I wholeheartedly concur.”

Rather than argue, she surprised him with a smile—the first she’d given him since she’d walked into the kitchen and seen Cliff. “Thanks. I really wasn’t looking forward to spending another full day up here.”

Major rose and returned the coffee service to the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later, a large bag hanging from his shoulder. He leaned over and kissed Anne’s cheek. “Great party, Annie.”

“Wouldn’t have been without you. Fax over that final invoice as soon as you have it, and George will write you a check.” She patted the caterer’s hand. “Won’t you?”

George nodded. “Just ring me up when you have the total, and I can drop it off.”

“I’ll call, then. Probably Monday morning after I have a chance to do a complete inventory and go over my staff’s time cards. Mere and I have that banquet tomorrow night, so it’s unlikely to be any earlier.”

“Monday’s fine.” Anne signed the last time card with a flourish and sent the student away. “I’ll be talking to Mere next week about a couple of other projects we’ll need you for.”

“I look forward to hearing about them.” Major’s gaze shifted to George for a brief moment, then back to Anne. “And remember what I said.”

Anne’s cheeks reddened. “I will. Now get out of here so I can, too.”

“Okay. Kitchen’s locked down tight; lights are off. G’night, you two.” Major beat a path out the front door.

Anne stood and stretched, then bent over to pick up her shoes from under the table. “George, I…I’d like to talk to you if you have a minute.”

For her, he had hours, days, weeks, years. He followed her back to the office, where she shoved the shoes into her bag and pulled out her trainers. He grinned as she put the white athletic shoes on with the black evening gown.

When she finished tying the laces, she didn’t stand but leaned back in the chair, her hands folded at her waist. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

He raised his brows and leaned against the edge of the desk.

“I’ve treated you unfairly tonight. I was angry with you because you didn’t tell me about Cliff. But I can’t hold that against you, for the very reason you didn’t tell me in the first place.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

She rubbed her temples. “I’m not making any sense, am I? Too long without sleep. I guess what I’m trying to say is, will you forgive me for being mad at you for being an honorable man and keeping your word?”

Grinning, he knelt in front of her, took her hands in his, and kissed her palms. “Gladly and wholeheartedly.”

Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry for being so hard-hearted. It was just…seeing Cliff like that with no forewarning… I guess I really have a lot to work on when it comes to forgiving him, because that isn’t going to come easily. I know that now.”

He held her for a few moments until his knees started to ache on the tile floor. He kissed the side of her neck, rose, and stretched as stress rolled off his shoulders.

She slouched back in the chair. “There’s something else I want to ask you.”

He perched on the edge of the desk facing her, curiosity aroused. “All right.”

She bit the right corner of her bottom lip as she searched his face, then sat up straight, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her hands together. “I know we’ve only known each other for a little over a month. And during that time, we’ve had our share of misunderstandings and communication issues.”

Her skill with euphemistic understatements would put a parliamentarian to shame. He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I feel like we have a lot in common, and we obviously work well together.” She smiled nervously. “What I want to ask is: How about making this permanent?”

He nearly fell off the desk. Permanent? Had Anne Hawthorne just proposed marriage to him?

She rushed to continue. “As I said, I know it hasn’t been that long. And I know you’ll need time to think about making a major step like this.”

Every fiber of his being cried out,
Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you
. The
miniscule part of his brain that clung to reason still controlled his tongue. “I’m flattered. But, Anne, have you thought this through? Are you sure this is what you truly want, and not just a reaction to seeing Cliff tonight?”

She frowned. “Cliff? What does he have to do with my asking you to be my business partner?”

Business partner? He chuckled and shook his head. Yet another example of their typical misunderstandings and communication issues. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“I mean, you may not make as much in a year working with me if we’re splitting the profits equally, but the cost of living here is a lot lower.”

And he’d get to see her every day. He tapped his thumb against his lips a moment. If he were going to stay here, he wanted the whole package—and he meant to have it before Courtney’s wedding. But given her nervousness at asking him to go into business together, convincing her to marry him would be a considerable undertaking. “Draw up a business plan, and I’ll take a look at it. I’ll have to look into the legality of changing jobs with my current work visa.” Of course, being married to an American citizen, he wouldn’t have to worry about work visas ever again. Not that where they would live mattered. He’d be happy living in a thatch-roofed hut in the bitter cold of Scotland, as long as he had Anne at his side.

A
nne tried to ignore the pounding by pulling a spare pillow over her head. There. The noise stopped.