Tangled in Tulle: Tulle and Tulips, Book 1

Dedication

To CIS, for indulging my Big Red habits.

To Tera, you scare me a little with the things you know. I love it.

To Lori and Misty. You ladies are pure fabulousness, and I love you.

Chapter One

“I can’t do this.” Lori Mullins reached over and pushed the button to lower the top on her best friend’s convertible despite the chilled Miami air. A Christmas carol jingled from somewhere in the distance, though it was over a month away.

Inside the car-fume-scented parking garage fear squeezed her lungs faster than walls moving in on a claustrophobe. She needed fresh air, reassurance, courage. The confidence she’d had as an operative for a clandestine arm of the CIA had dehydrated into a pea-sized shell and been squashed.

“You can,” Misty didn’t acknowledge the cooler air sweeping away the heater’s warmth as she pointed toward the automated doors across the parking garage. “Just go into the lobby, walk to the elevator and push the ‘up’ button.”

“Then when the doors open…” Lori trailed off, lost for a moment in the squeals of tires, the slam of doors and beep of an alarm, the stink of exhaust and rubber. She may not have been the highest level Whitestone operative, her final mission as an escort may never make sense, but she’d had a one-hundred-percent success rate on her jobs. Self-doubt had never been in her cache of attributes. Until now.

Until the last one, which had cost her the man she’d loved, ended her career and nearly claimed her life.

“You see the man who can grant your dreams,” Misty put in when Lori said nothing more.

“If only it were so simple.” Past success meant nothing. For that matter, few things from the past mattered beyond their power to impact her future.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of this.”

But she was. Maybe if she’d talked about why asking Trevor Masters for help was so tough she could’ve convinced Misty to pitch the business plan. The fact remained that while Misty was interested in working with her as the head floral designer, Tulle and Tulips Designer Weddings was Lori’s chance for a new beginning. A new life and talking about Trevor meant thinking about the part of her past she was trying to escape.

“You’ve covered every angle of the business plan. Your projections are smart and conservative.”

“But…”

Misty speared her with a hard glare, cutting off her arguments. “If Trevor Masters is half the businessman you claim, he’ll see your brilliance and will have no choice but to back you.”

“Except wedding planning has absolutely no relation to technology.”
And he has every reason to want to turn me away.
“I shouldn’t have contacted him.” Not that she’d gotten past his new assistant.

“Successful, smart business ventures are one and the same no matter what name you put on them.” Misty reached over Lori and opened the door. “Get out. Go. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Putting into words what could happen, why facing Trevor was so painful, hurt more than thinking about it—and that was plenty debilitating—so Lori nodded once and swung her legs from the car. The click of her heels on the concrete vibrated up her thighs. The vibration reminded her of the first time she’d taken this same path to see Trevor Masters.

The assignment to accompany the CEO to a business dinner had seemed simple, yet her life had been forever changed.

Misty reached for the button to raise the car top. Holding Misty’s certainty close, Lori grabbed her briefcase and torture forged determination. “You can be a real pain in the ass.”

“Eh. What good’s a friend if she can’t give you a kick in the keister on occasion?”

“No good at all.” The Misty inspired, cheek-stretching smile erased Lori’s concerns and fears. Misty was the single person who’d stayed permanent in her life, and had known she worked for the government. She’d been the one to help her heal and discover a sense of freedom from the past.

Even if the freedom wouldn’t last, Lori laughed. Feeling stronger, she crossed to the doors and approached the elevators. Three times she stopped, turned and contemplated running away.

A bell chimed. The doors opened to reveal the posh marble elevator she’d once felt comfortable in.

Comfortable.

She smirked and stiffened her spine.

As the doors closed, cutting off her retreat, Lori’s mind slipped back to the last time she’d pushed that button to take this ride.

The knee-length, form-hugging cocktail dress finished off with delicate jewelry and rhinestone covered stilettos whispered seductive power and made her feel strong. Or maybe that came from the anticipation of seeing Trevor again.

He captivated her. Had from their first meeting. Still did.

Serious-minded with a reputation for caring first and foremost about business, he’d allowed her glimpses of his melted-fudge heart. He’d laughed with her and shared casual dinners with her. He’d pulled her in until she cared more about the man than the job.

He’d become emotionally dangerous.

That last night together, with the city lights caressing the waters lapping at the beach, while they sat on the couch in the apartment off his office sharing pizza and tingling from sex, she’d become the dangerous one. The weapon.

She’d almost gotten him killed because she’d failed to discover Madame V’s goals or how far she’d push things to win.

Only after she’d returned to the Elegant Entertainment mansion had she overheard Madame V, her
boss
of the moment, boasting about how Lori had helped ensure that Trevor would sign a high-profile contract before the night—and his life—were over. She’d only barely managed to get back to Trevor’s office in time to stop his suicidal rush into traffic.

The elevator chimed with the announcement of Lori’s arrival. Her heart slowed to a crawl.
I should have found another backer.

The doors opened. In slate-gray suit pants, a crisply pressed, pale blue shirt which matched his eyes perfectly and a tie a shade darker stood the man she’d longed to see. Dreaded to see.

Trevor.

She took a step. Stopped.

Her heart trembled within its shrinking cage. Hopes, doubts, fears coalesced and lodged into a word barricade in her throat.

His long, narrow face, frozen in an
I’m-on-a-mission-and-won’t-be-swayed
stare, captivated her as quickly as it had the first time. Like the first time, she knew the secret to his success had to lie in part in his skill at hiding his thoughts, because knowing he was on a mission didn’t help without knowing
what
mission.

Not knowing made erecting defenses impossible and she needed all of them she could muster.

“Lori.” Her name, soft and even, with no inflection or hint of emotion, served as a backhand to the cheekbone. Sharp. Blinding. She shouldn’t have come to him. She should have listened to the fifteen banks unwilling to take a chance on her in the current economic climate.

“Trevor.” The elevator doors began closing. Moving quickly, she stepped out, determined to be equally unreadable.

He didn’t move. As the doors closed behind her, she was again cut off from escape with maybe a foot between them if she measured generously. Her belly tightened.

“I almost didn’t believe it was you when I saw your name on my schedule.”

Had he wanted her to be someone else, or had he been happy to see her name? Angry? Resentful? She wished she could read him, but as skilled as she was at reading people he’d always been the exception. “I won’t take much of your time.”

“So this visit isn’t personal?”

“No.” Did he want it to be? Could he really want anything personal with her again? Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t travel any road with a personal relationship until her life was on a path less littered with sinkhole memories.

“Right.” He stepped back and gestured toward his office. “Come in and tell me what this is about.”

She followed him across the plush waiting area decorated with subtle touches of fall and past his watchful admin. Each step closer to Trevor’s office and the connected apartment where they’d spent chunks of their alone time—paid and non-paid—had Lori’s muscles contracting.

She shoved the thoughts back and without waiting for him to close the door, headed to his desk to claim one of the guest chairs. Rather than sitting in his chair, he took the second guest chair.

Her chest burned.

She’d been certain he’d showcase his power on his turf, but sitting at her side equalized them. Or he was calculating ways to keep her on edge.

“I have a proposition.” She plunged forward to keep things away from personal topics.

His brow quirked with humor. “I’m listening.”

Business needed to be the theme. Only business. No innuendo. She’d have to choose her words with more caution.

Ignoring the distraction of his nearness, or trying to because completely tuning out his magnetism wasn’t happening, she reached into her bag for the bound portfolio she’d put together and passed it to him. “As you may know, I’m looking to start a new venture.”

He said nothing. He didn’t glance at the proposal.

“I’ve always loved design and weddings, so I’ve decided to put the two together.” She paused, but again he said nothing. He only regarded her with the same unwavering gaze.

“Specifically, I am looking to start a full service wedding planning business. I have experts in every area of weddings lined up to come work with me. Clients can hire us for individual aspects or for the entire event. If they cannot find what they want, we’ll design it. To ensure their day is everything they want we’ll work within the client’s budget on each aspect.”

Again she paused. Again he didn’t speak. His silence and lack of questions unnerved her, put her on the defensive when she played better offense.

“A woman shouldn’t have to run all over town or second guess herself when she’s taking such a monumental step in her life. She should be able to focus on the reason she’s visiting us.”

His mouth curved in a small, victorious smile that shifted his face into warmth. The first time she’d seen that smile they’d been dining on veal and wine with classical music in the background. Whatever she’d just said pleased him. Why? How?

Maybe he’s just humored by your ineptness.

“You feel qualified to plan weddings, Lori?”

She squished the insecurity and defenses springing to her tongue. Arguments that working as an operative for the government, always having a different assignment, had prepared her for anything and everything loitered, but she suppressed them. He’d met her as an escort and didn’t know, couldn’t know the rest of her story, so maybe his question was valid.

“Planning the perfect wedding takes organization and the ability to recognize the importance of a lifelong commitment. Yes, I’m qualified.”

“And you’re here for…a loan?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and receded into silence. After studying her for several moments, staring until her skin itched with the need to squirm, he lifted the proposal and skimmed the pages. He gave equal attention to the pages with sample designs, her ideal building layout complete with square footage requirements, the projected budget outlays, her available cash flow and how much she would need. Occasionally he made a noise low in his throat, but she couldn’t tell if he was impressed or shocked or thought her projections to be somehow out of line.

The need to squirm grew.

She’d done this dance with every banker she’d met. Each time they’d kept a copy of the proposal, taking weeks to study, analyze and consider before handing back her application stamped with a large REJECTED.

The second hand of her watch ticked in the silence.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

When Trevor closed the proposal and sat it on his lap, finally, a glance at the clock showed Lori thirty minutes had passed in silence. His eyes sought hers and held her arrested.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

He’s.

Tick.

Gonna.

Tick.

Say.

Tick.

No.

“I will not give you a loan.”

On autopilot, having heard what would come next and aware it would hurt more coming from Trevor, she stood with a quick nod. “Thank you for your time.”

He grabbed her hand when she’d have moved past him. His thumb brushed over her pulse. The grip was gentle and full of earnest command. “Sit back down, Lori.”

She looked down, a little over her shoulder, and met his gaze. “I don’t need explanations, Trevor. The no is enough.”

He regarded her, unblinking, until she felt certain her deepest secrets were exposed.

“Sit down.” His command was unavoidable. He would not be ignored. When he released her hand she fought back her ingrained urge to argue and instead obeyed.

“I will not give you a loan, but will offer an alternative proposition.”

His humored smile was back. She didn’t like the feeling it gave her any more than she liked feeling vulnerable. Whatever he was planning, she was sure she wouldn’t like it. “What?”

“A partnership. I want twenty-five percent ownership.”

“What? Why?” What could he want with a wedding planning business?