Bed of Roses (4 page)

“Seriously? Emmaline, if I wasn’t madly in love with Brian, I’d ask
you
to marry me.”

With a laugh, Emma rose. “I’ll be right back.”

 

 

 

L
ATER, EMMA SAW OFF HER EXCITED BRIDE AND, COMFORTABLY tired, settled down with a short pot of coffee in her office. Miranda was right, she thought as she keyed in all the details. She was going to have the most amazing wedding. An abundance of flowers, a contemporary look with romantic touches. Candles and the sheen and shimmer of ribbons and gauze. Pinks and whites with pops of bold blues and greens for contrast and interest. Sleek silver and clear glass for accents. Long lines, and the whimsy of fairy lights.

As she drafted out the itemized contract, she congratulated herself on a very productive day. And since she’d spend most of the next working on the arrangements for their midweek evening event, she considered making it an early night.

She’d resist going over and seeing what Mrs. G had for dinner, make herself a salad, maybe some pasta. Curl up with a movie or her stack of magazines, call her mother. She could get everything done, have a relaxing evening, and be in bed by eleven.

As she proofed the contract, her phone let out the quick two rings that signaled her personal line. She glanced at the readout, smiled.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Hello, Beautiful. What are you doing home when you should be out with me?”

“I’m working.”

“It’s after six. Pack it in, honey. Adam and Vicki are having a party. We can go grab some dinner first. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“Whoa, wait. I told Vicki tonight just wasn’t good for me. I was booked solid today, and still have about another hour before—”

“You’ve got to eat, right? And if you’ve been working all day you deserve to play. Come play with me.”

“That’s sweet, but—”

“Don’t make me go to the party by myself. We’ll swing by, have a drink, a couple laughs, leave whenever you want. Don’t break my heart, Emma.”

She cast her eyes up to the ceiling and saw her early night go up in smoke. “I can’t make dinner, but I could meet you there around eight.”

“I can pick you up at eight.”

Then angle to come in when you bring me home, she thought. And that’s not happening. “I’ll meet you. That way if I need to go and you’re having fun, you can stay.”

“If that’s the best I can get, I’ll take it. I’ll see you there.”

CHAPTER TWO

S
HE LIKED PARTIES, EMMA REMINDED HERSELF. SHE LIKED people and conversation. She enjoyed picking the right outfit, doing her makeup, fussing with her hair.

She was a girl.

She liked Adam and Vicki—and had, in fact, introduced them four years ago when it had become clear she and Adam made better friends than lovers.

Vows had done their wedding.

She liked Sam, she thought with a sigh as she pulled up in front of the contemporary two-story, then flipped down her visor mirror to check her makeup.

She enjoyed going out with Sam—to dinner, to a party, to a concert. The problem was the spark-o-meter. When she’d met him, he’d hit a solid seven, with upward potential. In addition, she’d found him smart and funny, appreciated his smooth good looks. But the first-date kiss had dropped to a measly two on the spark-o-meter.

Not his fault, she admitted as she got out of the car.
It
just wasn’t there. She’d given it a shot. A few more kisses—kissing was one of her favorite things. But they’d never risen over the two—and that was being generous.

It wasn’t easy to tell a man you had no intention of sleeping with him. Feelings and egos were at stake. But she’d done it. The problem, as she saw it, was he didn’t really believe her.

Maybe she’d find someone to introduce him to at the party.

She stepped inside, into the music, the voices, the lights—and felt an immediate lift of mood. She really did like parties.

After one quick scan, she saw a dozen people she knew.

She kissed cheeks, exchanged hugs, and kept moving in a search for her host and hostess. When she spotted a distant cousin by marriage she shot out a wave. Addison, she mused, and signaled that she’d be back around to say hi. Single, fun loving, stunning. Yes, she could see Addison and Sam hitting it off.

She’d make sure she introduced them.

She found Vicki in the kitchen area of the generous great room, talking to friends while she refreshed a tray of party food.

“Emma! I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“It’s going to be practically a hit-and-run. You look great.”

“So do you. Oh, thank you!” She took the bouquet of candy-striped tulips Emma offered. “They’re beautiful.”

“I’m in a ‘Damn it, it’s spring’ frame of mind. These said I’m right. Can I give you a hand?”

“Absolutely not. Let me get you a glass of wine.”

“Half a glass. I’m driving, and I really can’t stay very long.”

“Half a glass of cab.” Vicki laid the flowers on the counter to free her hands. “Did you come alone?”

“Actually, I’m sort of meeting Sam.”

“Oh,” Vicki said, drawing out the syllable.

“Not really, no.”

“Oh.”

“Listen. Here, let me do that,” she said when Vicki got out a vase for the flowers. Lowering her voice, Emma continued as she dealt with the flowers. “What do you think about Addison and Sam?”

“Are they an item? I didn’t realize—”

“No. I was just speculating. I think they’d like each other.”

“Sure. I suppose. You look so good together. You and Sam.”

Emma made a noncommittal sound. “Where’s Adam? I didn’t see him in the mob.”

“Probably out on the deck having a beer with Jack.”

“Jack’s here?” Emma kept her hands busy and her tone casual. “I’ll have to say hi.”

“They were talking baseball, last I heard. You know how they are.”

She knew exactly. She’d known Jack Cooke for over a decade, since he and Parker’s brother, Delaney, had roomed together at Yale. And Jack had spent a lot of time at the Brown Estate. He’d ultimately moved to Greenwich and opened his small, exclusive architecture firm.

He’d been a rock, she remembered, when Parker and Del’s parents had been killed in a private plane crash. And when they’d decided to start the business, he’d been a lifesaver by designing the remodels of the pool house and guest house to accommodate the needs of the company.

He was practically family.

Yes, she’d make sure to say hi before she left.

She turned with the glass of wine in her hand just as Sam made his way into the room. He was
so
good-looking, she thought. Tall and built, with that perpetual twinkle in his eyes. Maybe just a
tiny
bit studied, with his hair always perfectly styled, his clothes always exactly right, but—

“There she is. Hi, Vic.” He passed Vicki a very nice bottle of cabernet—exactly the right thing—kissed her cheek, then gave Emma a warm, warm smile. “Just who I’ve been looking for.”

He caught Emma up in an enthusiastic kiss that barely bumped the pleasant level on her scale.

She managed to ease back an inch and get her free hand on his chest in case he got it into his head to kiss her again. She smiled up at him, added a friendly laugh. “Hi, Sam.”

Jack, dark blond hair tousled from the evening breeze, leather jacket open over faded jeans, walked in from the deck. His eyebrows rose at Emma; his lips curved. “Hey, Em. Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Jack.” She nudged Sam back another inch. “You know Sam, don’t you?”

“Sure. How’s it going?”

“Good.” Sam shifted, draped his arm over Emma’s shoulders. “You?”

“Can’t complain.” He took a chip, shoveled it into salsa. “How are things back on the farm?” he asked Emma.

“We’re busy. Spring’s all about weddings.”

“Spring’s all about baseball. I saw your mother the other day. She remains the most beautiful woman ever created.”

Emma’s casual smile warmed like sunlight. “True.”

“She still refuses to leave your father for me, but hope springs. Anyway, see you later. Sam.”

As Jack walked off, Sam shifted. Knowing the dance well, Emma shifted in turn—so she avoided being trapped between him and the counter. “I’d forgotten how many mutual friends Vicki, Adam, and I have. I know almost everyone here. I need to touch some bases. Oh, and there’s someone I really want you to meet.”

Cheerfully, she took Sam’s hand. “You don’t know my cousin, Addison, do you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I haven’t seen her in months. Let’s track her down so I can introduce you.”

She pulled him into the heart of the party.

 

 

 

J
ACK SCOOPED UP A HANDFUL OF NUTS AND CHATTED WITH A group of friends. And watched Emma lead the Young Executive at Play through the crowd. She looked . . . freaking amazing, he thought.

Not just the sexy, sloe-eyed, curvy, golden-skinned, masses of curling hair, soft, full-lipped amazing. That was killer enough. But you had to add in the heat and light she just seemed to emanate. She made one hell of a package.

And, he reminded himself, she was his best friend’s honorary sister.

In any case, it was rare to see her when she wasn’t with her regular gang of girls, some of her family, surrounded by people. Or, like now, with some guy.

When a woman looked like Emmaline Grant, there was always some guy.

Still, it never hurt to look. He was a man who appreciated lines and curves—in buildings and in women. In his estimation, Emma was pretty much architecturally perfect. So he popped nuts, pretended to listen to the conversation, and watched her slide and sway through the room.

Looked casual, he observed, the way she’d stop, exchange greetings, pause, laugh or smile. But he’d made a kind of study of her over the years. She moved with purpose.

Curiosity piqued, Jack eased away from the group, merged with another to keep her in his eyeline.

The some guy—Sam—did a lot of back stroking, shoulder draping. She did plenty of smiling at him, laughing up at him from under that thicket of lashes she owned. But oh yeah, her body language—he’d made a study of her body—wasn’t signaling reception.

He heard her call out
Addison!
and follow up with that sizzle-in-the-blood laugh of hers before she grabbed a very fine-looking blonde in a hug.

They chattered, beaming at each other the way women did, holding each other at arm’s length to take the survey before—no doubt—they told each other how great they looked.

You look fabulous. Have you lost weight? I love your hair.
From his observations, that particular female ritual had some variations, but the theme remained the same.

Then Emma angled herself in a way that put the some guy and the blonde face-to-face.

He got it then, by the way she sidled back an inch or two, then waved a hand in the air before giving the some guy a pat on his arm. She wanted to ditch the some guy, and thought the blonde would distract him.

When she melted away in the direction of the kitchen, Jack lifted his beer in toast.

Well played, Emmaline, he thought. Well played.

 

 

 

H
E CUT OUT EARLY. HE HAD AN EIGHT O’CLOCK BREAKFAST meeting and a day packed with site visits and inspections. Somewhere in there, or the day after, he needed to carve out some time at the drawing board to work up some ideas for the addition Mac wanted on her studio now that she and Carter were engaged and living together.

He could see how to do it, without insulting the lines and form of the building. But he wanted to get it down on paper, play with it awhile before he showed Mac anything.

He hadn’t quite gotten used to the idea of Mac getting married—and to Carter. You had to like Carter, Jack thought. He’d barely blipped on Jack’s radar when he and Del and Carter had been at Yale together. But you had to like the guy.

Plus, he put a real light in Mac’s eyes. That counted big.

With the radio blasting, he turned over in his head various ideas for adding on the space so Carter had a home office to do . . . whatever English professors did in home offices.

As he drove, the rain that had come and gone throughout the day came back in the form of a thin snow. April in New England, he thought.

His headlights washed over the car sitting on the shoulder of the road, and the woman standing in front of the lifted hood, her hands fisted on her hips.

He pulled over, got out, then, sliding his hands into his pockets, sauntered over to Emma. “Long time no see.”

“Damn it. It just died. Stopped.” She waved her arms in frustration so he took a cautious step back to avoid getting clocked with the flashlight she gripped in one hand. “And it’s snowing. Do you
see
this?”