His Kind of Perfect (Sugar Bay #1) (2 page)

His eyes locked on hers. She felt a strong
pull that urged her to move closer, but she stood firm. A part of her knew to
do so would signal a start to something she couldn’t control. Something
unprofessional. Something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

After a moment, Derek stepped back,
released her wrist and thrust a hand through his hair. As if the tension were
too much, he rubbed the back of his neck. When he looked up again, the heated look
in his gaze was gone and in its place was his usual laid back grin. For a
moment, she thought she’d imagined his tension.

“Come on. I’ve got something you might want
to see.”

Him,
naked with a bow on top?

She didn’t think that was his plan but she followed
him anyway.

“Where is everyone?” The normal buzz of
activity in the warehouse was missing.

“Dani’s on an extended lunch, her Mac
crapped out on her over the weekend and she needed it for school so she’s at
the Apple Store at the mall and the boys are driving back from Miami.”

So they were alone.

Wonderful
.

As if she needed more fodder for her
fantasies. Last week he’d had her on top of the console table. They’d successfully
tested the weight capacity of the table. Derek may have thought she’d been in
the midst of a hot flash because she’d been red the entire visit.

Poor
guy
.

If he knew he was the star of her many
fantasies, he’d stop being so friendly to the dirty old lady she was fast
becoming. Because not only was Derek an outstanding custom cabinetry maker,
highly sought after sustainable furniture designer and all around exemplary
craftsman, he was also too young for her and therefore off limits.

He was in his late twenties or early
thirties, she wasn’t certain but she didn’t dare ask lest he assume she was
interested.

She wasn’t.

But maybe the overload of fantasies meant
she was ready to date again. It had been three years and as her Aunt Martha mentioned
during last week’s birthday lunch, Anabelle wasn’t getting any younger and was on
the verge of spinsterhood. Although how that was possible since she’d been
married was questionable but Aunt Martha had no filter and felt compelled to offer
her opinion.

Lucky
Anabelle.

The invitation in her purse reminded
Anabelle her younger cousin was all grown up and getting married. Next month, the
extended family would converge at Josie’s beach wedding and before
long,
the sad state of Anabelle’s life would be discussed. Somebody
would inevitably bless Anabelle’s heart and Anabelle would go insane.

The
joys of family…where no filter was required because they loved you.

While Anabelle wasn’t unhappy, she wasn’t bouncing
with joy either. She was…content. She had a successful business, good friends
and on the verge of getting a dog.

Once upon a time she may have thought life
would have been different, that maybe by now she’d have a couple of kids, assorted
pets, and a maybe smooth riding SUV because minivans were too tame, according
to her best friend Charlie.

Derek weaved through the warehouse, his
assorted finds scattered about. “Look at this beauty, my most recent find. I
salvaged this from a school over in Clearwater.”

“They look like PE lockers.” She fiddled
with the wire baskets on the worn green shelves. The retro numbers on the
dinged metal tags reminded her of middle school. She sniffed the air. “They
smell like them too.”

He grinned. “They were but I’ve got plans to
turn them into a custom storage display. Mix a little new wood, improve the
configuration, age and stain the addition and these old lockers will have a new
purpose but still maintain its original character.”

“Creative but first you’ll have to Lysol
them to death.” She wrinkled her nose and he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the
corners. It was unfair laugh lines on guys added to their attraction yet each
morning she was a wrinkle Nazi slathering anti aging cream on every possible
hint of a line.

“Possibly,” he admitted, still grinning.

She looked away to avoid the yummy sight lest
she be lulled into submission. A graffiti heart etched on the rail caught her
attention and she fingered the penciled groove left behind by Troy F. or Susan
G. who’d loved each other forever. She wondered how long forever had been to
the hormonal vandals.

Three months?

Maybe.

To hormonal preteens, three months would
have been an eternity.

“I think they’d be perfect for your
office.”

That captured her attention.

“They could hold samples, projects,
materials…anything you want.”

The sexy grin was back and she caught her
breath. She wanted to smile back but she didn’t.

That path
led to heartache.

Be
professional
.

“That would be incredible Derek, and very sweet
of you, but I haven’t the funds for renovation right now.” It would have been
perfect. She could imagine it in her studio, functional yet a charming, a
conversation piece and a great way for clients to witness the charm of
repurposing.

His smile turned sheepish. “I’m sorry, I’m
messing this up. They are yours. I’m giving them to you.” He tilted her chin and
forced her to meet his eyes. The earnest expression held another unnamed
emotion, and refused to let her go. “You’ve been great for business and I want
to show my appreciation.”

She blinked, breaking the intimate moment eye
and pulled away.

“I couldn’t. It’s too much. You should sell
it.” She exhaled a breath. “I can’t let you lose the profit.”

“Anabelle, Anabelle.” His voice was soft
and he caught her gaze, the combination was seductive. “Let me give it to you.
You know you want it.”

She did, dammit. Her resolve weakened.
“I…don’t…know…”

His smile was triumphant. He knew he had
her. “A ‘thank you’ would be a good start and whatever else you want to throw in.
I certainly wouldn’t turn down a kiss.” He winked and Anabelle started.

“Thanks Derek,” she said with a weak smile,
stepping back before she did something stupid like kiss him as requested.

Dating never looked so good.

Mooning over a guy young enough to be
her…younger brother was dangerous. Her mother would be disappointed and tell
her it was unprofessional as well as inappropriate so Anabelle did what any
professional businesswoman would do given the same situation.

She beat a hasty retreat.

Hunched over her keyboard, Anabelle
concentrated on writing tedious specifications when the dire notes from
Jaws
sounded.

Ba…bump

She froze.

Fear along the lines of the fated Nantucket
swimmers filled her. Her older cousin, Brody, had thought it fun to show her the
hair-raising classic one night when he babysat. Her eight-year-old imagination
soaked in the delicious horror but for months she’d avoided large bodies of
water especially if she couldn’t see the bottom. This had earned Brody a hall
of fame spot on her mother’s bad boy list. Years later, he has yet to earn any
forgiveness. Her mother’s memory was legendary.

Claire Broussard wouldn't appreciate the
ring tone Anabelle programmed for her, but when Charlie had first heard it,
she’d whooped with delight.

Ba...bump.

She pushed the speaker button. "Hello
Mother."

"Anabelle." A southern drawl
filled the studio. Regardless of the fact her mother had lived most of her
adult life in Sugar Bay, she refused to let go of her Louisiana drawl.

“How are you dear?”

“Fine.”

“Business?”

“Doing well mother.”

She knew where this was headed. The pearly
pink envelope taunted her from its hidden spot. There was order to Claire’s
life and civilities had to be maintained.

“How’s the tour?”

“Fine.”

“How are Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Lou?”

“Oh you know...Lorraine hasn’t met a
stranger and has the energy of a golden retriever. And Lou, the poor sod,
follows her lead.”

Anabelle winced. She knew from experience,
getting her introverted mother to be social was hard work.
Poor
Aunt Lorraine.

Fingers crossed, she asked, “So you’re
having fun?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say…fun.”

Of course not.
Her
mother was allergic to relaxation and fun. She was a cross between the Grinch
and Cruella de Ville. It was no wonder she suffered from a mild heart attack
earlier this year.

“But you’re resting though, correct?”

The annoyed sigh was clear despite the
distance. “Yes, Anabelle, the old lady is resting, just as the doctor ordered.”

“Mother, this is for your own good. Most
people would love a tour of Europe.”

“Hmmph.” Her mother’s code for ‘I’m not
ready to admit you’re right and I am wrong because I’m never wrong’.

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying your
birthday present.”

"You mean the kidnapping? What’s not
to enjoy? Being dragged from ruin to ruin.”

“Look on the bright side, you no longer
have to worry about Gladys Perkins.”

“Don’t get me started Anabelle. If I get
back and she’s turned the Winter Ball into Moulin Rouge, it will be your
fault.”

Guilt was her mother’s weapon of choice.
She sighed. “I’m sure the other ladies in the league can handle things without
you for a little while longer.”

“Yes, but Moulin Rouge?”

The Ladies League was the power circuit for
ladies of leisure and Claire was a veteran powerhouse. In the last few months,
new blood had joined the ranks. According to her mother, Gladys Perkins was
loose in all ways and would be the destruction of The Ladies League.

Jeez. The drama.

From her mother’s ongoing rant, Anabelle had
expected an older harlot, along the lines of Madonna circa Like a Prayer,
gyrating along the pews and grinding against Jesus. The reality had been
anticlimactic. There hadn’t been a peekaboo dress in sight. No
ropes of gothic crosses
either. Gladys wore Versace and
Michael Kors. She was partial to the cheetah print, but a little cheetah never
hurt anybody. Anabelle thought Gladys was a nice older lady with a zest for
life.

“Would that be so bad?”

“Can you picture me dressed like a can-can
girl?”

“You could always dress like a courtesan.”

A long silence followed. Had she gone too
far?

“Did you get your cousin's invitation?”

Stabbed, right through the heart. Yep,
she’d gone too far, her mother’s response was lethal.

“Yes. It’s a little rushed though.”

“According to Marybeth, Josie wanted to get
it done before she began to show.”

“Got it.”

“Josie did a delightful job with her invitations.
Stunning, isn't it. The dear girl always had exquisite taste.”

Anabelle didn't bother adding to her
mother's monologue on all that was wonderful about Josie. If she didn't love
the girl so much, she'd really have to hate her. The girl had a charmed life
whereas Anabelle’s life…a disaster.

“And her fiancé, the doctor!”

Anabelle sighed while her mother rambled. She
opened a drawer, dug to the bottom and found an unopened bag of Dove chocolates.

Her secret stash.

Three months, she’d made it. She’d left the
bag unopened and controlled her chocolate addiction.

Until today.

Sanity weighed against falling off the wagon.

She ripped open the bag and the sweet scent
of chocolate hit her.

Heaven.

She’d been so good for so long and now, Charlie
was going to win their bet but she didn’t pause. Instead, she unwrapped an almond
and chocolate bite of yumminess and popped it in her mouth. She closed her eyes
while the chocolate melted in her mouth, savoring the experience.

“His family owns the Organic Farm. True
stewards of the land.”

Another bite wouldn’t hurt. She was still
under a hundred calories. Hopefully.

“And that house, passed through the family.
A veritable mansion, you should appreciate that.”

“A veritable mansion, yep,” she murmured
and stuffed a third piece in her mouth. She’d walk an extra mile tonight to
offset the splurge.

“Anabelle Magdalene Broussard!”

Anabelle sat up straight despite her
mother’s inability to see her. If Claire ever discovered Skype of FaceTime,
Anabelle was toast.

“Ladies do not say, 'yep'.”

Anabelle took in the empty foil wrappers
strewn about her desk and groaned. Ladies also didn't inhale half a bag of chocolates
in one sitting either.

“I'm happy for Josie. She'll make a
beautiful bride.”

“Divine. So of course, you'll be her matron
of honor.”

“Um…no.”

“Why not?”

Diplomacy was never her mother’s strength
so the fact that Anabelle would rather get a root canal without anesthesia than
be on display in wedding party wouldn’t occur to Claire. The comparisons, the
pitying glances, the never-ending rounds of ‘bless her heart’…she would stab
herself in the eyes first.

“The fact that you are no longer married is
no fault of yours. You simply need to try again and with all this time away to think,
I believe in order to assure your success, I should have a greater influence on
your next marital choice.”

“Please God, no.”

“And this time,” her mother continued as if
she hadn’t heard Anabelle’s horror, “investigate a little further. Know his
family. You’ll never believe it but I've got a date lined up for you and if it
works, he can be your wedding date too. I’m sure he’d love to go with you, he's
perfect!”

"No mother, no.”

"He's my hairdresser’s doctor and he's
darling. He came by her shop when I was getting my hair done and, oh my, even
this old heart skipped a beat."

Claire went on while Anabelle looked at the
remaining chocolate with longing, trying to calculate the calories if she ate
the rest.