Crashing the Congressman’s Wedding (Crimson Romance) (20 page)

If he thought for a moment pulling his money from the project would put back her spark, he’d search high and low for alternative funding. But he feared it was more than that.

His cell phone rang, rattling his thoughts. He cleared his throat and shook his head, refocusing enough to answer Mark’s call.

“Hello.”

“Did you hear?”

“About?”

“The Inn is on fire.”

That explained the sirens. “Is it bad?”

“Clark told Will it’s a total loss. They can’t do much more than let it burn while they hose down the outbuildings so they don’t catch a spark.”

“That’s rough. I’m sure they have insurance, but that’s not going to cover any money they lose from wedding receptions.”

“Or hospital fundraisers. Mom might have another heart attack when she hears about this.”

Justin couldn’t believe his mother was still insisting on chairing the yearly gala. Of course, after ten years of acting as chairwoman, the gala pretty much planned itself, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The fundraiser had been losing money in recent years.

“What’s the contingency plan?” Justin asked, having never been involved in the planning. That was Mark’s territory. He’d been escorting their mother since the year their father died.

“There isn’t one. Not this late in the game. We have one hundred fifty confirmed yeses, and no other place in Harmony Falls holds that many people in a semi-formal setting.”

The theatre could hold twice as many people. With major cosmetic construction done and current work contained to back stage and upstairs, the lobby would make the perfect alternate location for the gala.

“I may have a solution, but I need to check on something first. Let me call you back.”

Excited as Justin was about the opportunity this presented to both the hospital and Alice, he wasn’t dumb enough to commit the theatre without her approval. He stood, walked to the window and looked across the street. A couple workers milled around the façade, putting finishing touches on the mortar repair.

Alice was somewhere inside the transformed building, and she wasn’t going to like what Justin had in mind. She might even … overreact. The thought of her blue eyes blazing and those perfect lips in a twist, made him smile. He didn’t want to fight with her, but he’d do just about anything to see her spark again.

With definite purpose, Justin left his office and walked across the street, greeting people with a generous smile, knowing more than a few believed the stories the Parrishes had been spreading since construction on the theatre thwarted their plans for revenge. A couple rumors had reached Justin’s ears. One alleged that Robert Parrish no longer endorsed Justin politically because Justin caused Morgan to have a nervous breakdown. But his personal favorite was that he and Alice had been sleeping together all along. He wished that one was true. He’d learned more about himself from a short time with Alice than he did living in the same skin for thirty-four years.

A worker nodded and drew open one side of the heavy wooden doors. “Afternoon, Congressman.”

“Afternoon. It’s looking good.” And it was. Amazing what money and connections could accomplish in a nominal amount of time.

He stepped into the glistening lobby, breathed in the scent of new carpet and freshly cut wood. His eyes zeroed in on one length of floorboard where despite the mahogany stain, a generous dent cast a shadow. He couldn’t help but smile. One of these days, he was going to dish out that punishment.

Passing the grand staircase that led to the balcony, Justin touched fingertips to the cool copper banister. From the rich ruby walls to the mirrored wainscoting, the lobby provided the perfect spot for the town’s fanciest affair. And it wouldn’t hurt for gossip-happy people to glimpse Alice’s vision. His money or not, the ideas belonged to her. It was time people recognized Alice Cramer’s positive impact on Harmony Falls.

Her office door was open, but a child-safety gate blocked his entrance. He stood there, watching her work. Sitting behind an ivory and mirrored wooden desk, lush blond locks hid her face enough to block her eyes, but not enough to hide the shiny red lips and long yellow pencil pressed between them. From the open space beneath the desk, he could see her leopard-print heels kicked to one side and her legs crossed. The red paint on her toenails matched her lips.

His gut crunched, building pressure in his groin. As much as he wanted to hop the fence, close the door and spread her perfect body across that desk, they needed to talk. He cleared his throat, and she looked up, pencil between snow-white teeth, red lips curling at the edges. For a second, the sparkle danced in her eyes, turning them a brilliant sapphire blue. But then it disappeared.

“Hi,” she said in a soft voice.

“Hi yourself.” He straddled the gate, looking for kittens before he squashed one with his big feet.

“I was reading up on script licensing.”

“Sounds riveting.”

“It is actually. At least to me.”

“That’s all that matters.” He seemed to be saying that a lot lately, trying to get her to see that she was worth the hard work and choices it would take to get this theatre running.

But as usual, her weak smile told him she wasn’t sure.

“What brings you here in the middle of the day?” When she stood, the kittens scrambled from her lap.

As she sauntered toward him in a white, sleeveless dress with a thick black belt and bare feet he felt transported to Old Hollywood. She had a way of taking him places he never thought he’d see. He loved that.

“I wanted to see you, talk to you … ” — he reached his hands for her waist and guided her the rest of the way to him — “ … kiss you.”

He felt her body rise as she pressed up on her toes. “What about my lipstick,” she whispered just short of his lips.

“What about it?”

“It’ll smear all over you.”

“I’ll take the risk.”

Her eyes flashed to the open door, and then she placed a chaste kiss to his cheek before dropping to her heels. “Some things aren’t worth the risk.”

“Some things are.” He shot a hand to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, holding her still so he could smear the hell out of the lipstick.

When she tucked her hands inside his suit coat and leaned against his chest, satisfaction spilled into every crack and crevice of his body, filling him with an overwhelming sense of right.

He cupped her face and freed her mouth. “So worth the risk. Every damn time.”

She grinned. “You look like a clown.” And then she was gone, sashaying across the floor to her desk while he wiped fingertips to his throbbing lips. She reached into a desk drawer, pulled out a mirror, a tissue and swayed those hips back in his direction. “Clean yourself up before somebody sees.”

Her own mouth wasn’t innocent, but he rather liked the proof of his actions being on display. He took the mirror, chuckled at the mess and rubbed his mouth with the tissue until he looked allergic instead of deranged. “Better?”

She tipped her head. “It should get you back across the street without too many stares.” Once again her eyes flickered with a flatness that pulled on his heart. He hated seeing it there.

“Did you hear about the fire?”

“No, where?”

“Blue Spruce Inn. It’s a total loss.”

She frowned and took the mirror from him, walking to her desk. “That’s terrible. Was anyone hurt?”

He watched her clean the lipstick from her face. “No loss of life, just property, but lots of people are going to be scrambling for a new wedding reception venue and … ”

With a hip perched against the desk, she stared at him. “And what?”

He smoothed his tie, and then tucked his hands in his pants pockets. “The hospital fundraiser was supposed to be next week in the ballroom. My mother and Mark are desperate for another venue, one that holds at least one hundred and fifty people.”

She never blinked. “And you think I should hold it here.”

“I’m
asking
you if you would
consider
holding it here. I’m fully aware that you may say no, and I’m prepared to accept that.” He smiled, hoping to punctuate the playful tone of his proposition.

After a deep breath that lifted her shoulders to bury them in her hair, she nodded. “Fine.” She pushed off the desk and returned to her chair. “I’ll see you later.”

Fine?
No, it wasn’t fine. “Alice, don’t you want to know what the gala involves before you agree?”

“Why, Justin?” she said, dropping her palms to the desk. “If your family needs this theatre to host their gala, then I’m not going to say no. I love you. Besides, it’s essentially your theatre anyway. You’ve paid for all of this.”

He didn’t want to rehash ownership. This was a conversation they’d had too many times before, and it always ended with her withdrawn, a word that had no business describing Alice Cramer, a woman who was born to shine.

And just like that, his head readied to explode. “You should sing.”

“Now?” She eyed him skeptically, the pencil between her teeth again.

“No, at the gala. They should make it a charity concert rather than an auction. The auction loses money year after year.”

The pencil hit the desk. “Justin, I … ”

“You’re singing.” Three powerful strides fueled by excitement had him standing beside her. This was exactly what she needed. The chance to step out in front of the entire town and prove her worth.

“And here I thought we’d made progress in the telling-me-what-to-do department.”

He dropped to his knees, taking her hands in his, and spinning around her desk chair. “I’m asking you to consider singing for the fundraiser. My family would be grateful, and the hospital would be overjoyed at the boost in funds.”

She wrinkled her nose. “How do you know I’d bring in more money than an auction?”

He pulled her down so her forehead rested on his. “Because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and amazing people do amazing things.”

She bit her lip, and her eyes widened.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“I’ll think about it.” A sassy smile stretched across her face, balling up her cheeks and crinkling the skin around her eyes, but it was the sparkle of blue behind her batting lashes that had him smiling too.

As he knelt there, holding her hands, he knew … he’d been called a favorite son, a congressman, a prospect for president, but when it came down to it, he was nothing without her.

He didn’t need a plan to tell him what came next. Following his heart was all he had to do. And if the people in this town wanted something to talk about, he’d make sure their wish came true.

Alice had never owned a dress that came with its own garment bag. Now she owned three. Technically, they belonged to Justin. A little pinch of shame picked at her skin, causing her to fidget. Was she ever going to be able to get over the fact that she took his money, having done nothing to deserve it? Probably not. But she’d survived this long in a parentless world by doing what she had to do. This time was no different. Besides, she learned a long time ago that when she hit bottom it was best to lie there until she had the strength to climb again.

With a sigh, she refocused on the vinyl bags lined up on her mama’s bed — the only bed big enough for the floor-length gowns to be laid side-by-side. She unzipped the bag closest to the pillows where Mama’s head used to rest. Red sequins blinked in a swath of afternoon sun. She traced a finger around the curves of the sweetheart neckline, and then slipped a hand underneath the deceptively heavy fabric, pulling it free from the bag where it could be admired. Her heart fluttered, and she opened her mouth for air.

Singing for a theatre full of rich people who Johnny Cramer once deemed “the enemies” was going to be the hardest thing she ever had to do. She hoped to get a boost of confidence from dressing as though she belonged. Unzipping the middle bag, she smoothed her palms over the black velvet, skirting the rhinestone broach that anchored the empire waist, and then she opened the last bag, careful not to catch the zipper on the fragile silk. The pristine white fabric glowed in the sunlight, causing her hands to tremble. This dress was begging for a stain, but she’d keep it bagged until her middle song set and change into the black gown before she moved into the lobby near the food and wine. That’s where Mrs. Mitchell had instructed Alice to mingle.
Mingle.
Cramers didn’t mingle. But what was Alice supposed to do? Refuse Mrs. Mitchell? Not when a Cramer was finally going to attend a Mitchell affair and not be relegated to the back row.

The screen door banged and she snapped her head toward the sound. With Charlie in Connecticut and Justin in Washington, nobody should be opening her front door without knocking.

“Hello?” she called, leaving the gowns on the bed and scurrying from the room, closing the door behind her.

“Hey.” Charlie stood in the middle of the living room. His clothes were clean. His hair was combed. His face was shaven. A healthy hint of pink played on the balls of his cheeks, and sharpness lit his eyes.

She ran to him, threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. “You look so good.”

“Thanks.” He patted the small of her back.

“But what are you doing here?” She released him and stepped back for another look at this new and improved Charlie. “What about work and school?”

“I just needed to get away for a few days.”

Despite a busy schedule that included work as a line cook and classes at a Connecticut culinary academy, he’d gained weight. Maybe it was the result of being around all that food. But even with a rounder face, the shadowy dips in his cheeks gave away his trouble.

“What’s going on?” Alice asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He shoved hands in his pockets and looked around the room. “Where’s Mouse?”

The change of subject saddened her. Over the last month, their telephone conversations had become more comfortable with Charlie confiding in her about the steps he’d taken to make himself a stable and suitable parent. She didn’t know why he wasn’t talking to her now. She didn’t ask. Instead she answered his deflective question. “Terrorizing crows.”