A Moment of Bliss (15 page)

“Y
es, there will be other photographers at the wedding, but you will be
the
photographer. You're doing the portraits, the shots for their album.” Madison paced the length of Honeywilde's great room, phone in one hand and a giant cup of coffee in the other.

“Three other photographers though? I heard one of them is from New York. You won't even need me.”

Of all weddings, her favorite photographer had decided
now
was the time to be an insecure diva. “Frank, please don't do this.”

“I'm not going to let them treat me like some hick amateur. I mean it. I'll walk.”

“No one is going to treat you poorly. You know I'd never let that happen and I'll be in charge of the whole shebang. Trust me when I say you'll be fine.”

“But what if she hates the shoot? What if it all goes to hell and she bad-mouths me on
Ellen
?”

“She . . .
what?
Whitney is not going bad-mouth you. She isn't even going on
Ellen
.”

“She might. Everyone goes on
Ellen
.”

“The bride loves your work and she will love you. She's from Tennessee. I've met her, she's lovely, and she doesn't want some big-city hotshot doing her bridal pictures. She wants personal photos, shot outside with natural lighting, foliage, and a distinct mountainous feel.”

“Madison, honey. You know I love working with you, but I haven't met this girl. How am I supposed to connect with her and take intimate-feeling pictures if I've known her all of five minutes?”

“I trust your talent. You can do it.”

“I've seen her on TV, of course. Did you know she was listed as one of
People
's Best Dressed at the Grammys? The
Grammys
, Madison. She looked like a golden goddess.”

“Then you have your work cut out for you.”

“Annie Leibovitz would have her work cut out for her. I will be lost.”

“Frank.” She used the most calming voice she could manage.

He kept fretting, going on and on about
W
magazine and
Vogue
. This was going to take some ego stroking and another cup of coffee.

Madison let him continue spewing doubt, getting it all out as she refilled one of the inn's pottery mugs and headed for the front entrance.

Finally, Frank's ranting slowed to a murmur. She stepped outside onto the portico and continued her pacing there. Now she could raise her voice, just enough to get his attention. “Frank. I need you to come back to earth for a second and listen to me. Are you listening?”

“Yes.” Frank's tone indicated he was also sulking.

“Whitney does not want a sleek, edgy editorial for her personal wedding album. These will be
her
pictures, not photographs sold to a magazine. She wants cozy and private. Something special. That is what you do. I showed her your portfolio and she chose
you
. Now, I need you to pull it together and remember how spectacular you are at what you do. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And there is no one from New York or Los Angeles who can shoot this area or a sweet Southern girl on her wedding day as brilliantly as you can. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“She wants some black and whites of her soon-to-be husband too. He's more . . . let's go with rugged and handsome, and she wants lots of shots of him in a suit, because it will probably never happen again.”

Frank laughed because it wasn't the first time they'd gotten such a request from a bride.

“Are you okay now?” Madison turned to pace down the walkway, just as Sophie walked out the front door.

“I'm okay.”

“Good. I need to run, but I want you here next Thursday. If Whitney arrives early, I'll make sure you guys have coffee or something.”

“That'd be wonderful. Thank you.”

“Anytime. It's all going to be fine, Frank. Amazing. You'll see.” Madison ended the call before he could argue about the amazing part.

“Hey.” Sophie nodded to her, Beau pulling at his leash as they walked over.

He bounded up to Madison, nudging her hand with his wet nose.

“Sorry.” Sophie tried pulling him back.

“It's fine. We made friends. Didn't we, Beau?” Great, now she was talking to the dog too.

“You did? When?”

“Um . . .”
Right after I made out with your brother in the forest and he made me scream so loud your other brother probably heard us
. “I was out jogging and ran into him and Devlin.”

A slow smile curled Sophie's lips and she swung the handle of the leash around. “Oh, that's right. I forgot Dev told me he'd run into you and Roark.”

That sly little grin meant Sophie hadn't forgotten a damn thing. Not in her entire life.

“Yeah.” Madison nodded and glanced away.

“So, are y'all running buddies now?”

“What? No. I mean . . . we might run at the same time again, sometime, but we're not . . . we don't have plans to run together. Again.”

Sophie studied her for the longest few seconds of Madison's life and then shrugged. “That's a shame. I think Roark would be more likely to run if he had someone to go with him. You know. A running buddy. Running is more fun with someone else, don't you think?”

Madison fidgeted with her phone and then clasped it between her hands to make herself stop. God, she hoped they were really still talking about running. “I do.”

“I better take Beau before he starts whining. I'll see you later. Wright has some cake samples he wants you to try, and as long as you don't mind, I'm getting in on that action.”

“Of course.”

“'Kay. Bye!” Sophie waved before she and Beau bounded down the stairs and took off like they were trying to out-happy each other.

If people didn't realize that petite redhead was two steps ahead of them, they were in trouble. Luckily, Madison knew.

It made her like Sophie all the more.

“Was that Soph?” Roark stuck his head out the front door.

“Yes. She's taking Beau for a jog.”

He stepped outside, coffee in hand as he scowled. “Damn. I needed to ask her something.” Roark glanced at Madison, and his gaze softened. “'Morning.”

“'Morning.” She buried her nose in a long sip of coffee.

He strolled toward her. “You're up early.”

“There's a lot I have to do today.”

“I know. I've seen your lists. Did you try some of our Harvest Blend yet?” Roark nodded to her coffee.

“I have no idea. I think this is just black coffee.”

He peered down into her mug. “No, Wright buys a Harvest Blend for fall and
finally
made some today, thank the lord. This stuff is the good stuff. Little bit of pumpkin and nutmeg. If you'd had it, you'd know.”

She glanced over at his mug. He took his coffee black too, but a delicious, spicy smell wafted up in the steam. She took a deep inhale. Like autumn in a cup.

“Here, try it.” He held his mug out to her.

“No, I couldn't—”

Roark didn't argue with her. Not verbally anyway. He held his mug even closer with one hand, his free hand out in offering to hold her cup.

“Okay.” She passed over her plain black coffee and took his Harvest Blend, sipping it slowly. His coffee was hotter than hers and twice as tasty.

He might not be getting his coffee back.

“I'm not getting that back, am I?”

Madison shook her head and grinned into his cup. “Your sister thinks we should be running partners.”

Roark choked on the mouthful of coffee he'd taken from her mug.

“She said Devlin had mentioned us being out for a run together and that running alone was no fun and that you needed someone to run with, and toward the end I wasn't so sure we were talking about running at all.”

“Oh jeez. I told you. Didn't I tell you?” He rubbed a hand over his face.

“You did. And if she doesn't know we slept together, then she's very much in favor that we do so.”

Roark's mouth fell open. “Did she say that?”

“No. But she distinctly implied. Your little sister is wise beyond her years and a hell of a lot bolder than her size would indicate.”

He tossed his head back and grinned. “You're right about that. I'm actually kind of surprised she didn't come right out and tell you we should hook up.”

“She'd say that?”

“Damn straight. In front of family, and you, now that you've been here awhile. In front of guests and vendors, she's all proper manners and behavior. You'd think sugar wouldn't melt in her mouth, she's so sweet. With closer acquaintances, she'll say whatever she wants, when she wants. If you're familiar, all bets are off.”

“Then she'll probably ask you about it later?”

“I don't doubt it. As soon as she gets the chance.”

“What will you tell her?”

Roark's gaze remained steady on hers. “What do you want me to tell her?”

Madison took another drink of Roark's coffee, trying to figure out if she wanted Sophie to know for certain. She pretty much knew already, and Devlin too; Wright would know soon enough.

Did it matter? She wasn't ashamed of sleeping with Roark, and she was fairly certain Sophie wasn't going to judge her or hold it against her. But was their intimacy something she wanted to be general knowledge? Other people wouldn't understand. They'd either judge her for mixing pleasure with business or they'd think she and Roark were
together
.

They'd get it in their heads they were a pair, and then there'd be certain expectations. The questions and pressure would come next. Were they a couple? Was it serious? She and Roark would be paired together before she even realized, and she'd start to care. Caring, followed shortly by him turning into the coldhearted bastard that every man became with time. Then he'd leave her behind with the wreckage of her feelings and she'd have to start all over. Again.

Her answer was a big
no, thank you
on everyone knowing the details. Easier and safer to leave it to speculation.

“I prefer you not tell her anything concrete. Let's not make a big deal of it. If that's okay?”

Roark nodded. “Sure. You think that will work?”

“I don't know. But I don't want her getting the wrong idea. You know? She might not understand like you and I do. Sophie seems very nice, and blunt, but she might be prone to think along more . . . permanent lines when it comes to people being together. Especially when it involves her brother.”

“Right.” Roark nodded again.

The end of her stay was already going to be problematic enough; his family knowing they were together, however temporary, would only make it harder. “I don't want her to think we're
together
, or have it cause any confusion later, when I leave.”

And god forbid she become closer to Roark's family. She had about a week and a half left, and already, anticipating the end made sailor knots of her insides.

No. Better to keep it simple. A cut, no matter how deep, healed better than a gaping wound.

Roark took another sip of his coffee, looking toward the walkway and the path Sophie had taken with the dog. “You're right. We wouldn't want anyone to be confused on where you and I stand.”

“Exactly.” This was in his best interest too. More so than hers. After the wedding, when she went back to Charlotte, he'd be the one left with the questions. It'd be easier for him to wave it off as no big deal, versus a family inquisition. From what she knew of the Bradleys, it'd be quite the inquisition.

Though, now that she thought about it, being brushed off as no big deal had the coffee curdling on her stomach.

Roark kept staring off toward the walkway. “And even if she figures out the truth, because she's smart like that, I'll explain to her that you and I are just friends. She doesn't need to read anything more into it. It's not permanent and nothing worth discussing. Like you said, it's not a ‘thing.' We're just enjoying each other's company.”

Nothing worth discussing. Right.

Madison gripped her coffee cup until her hands burned, and she blinked at his profile, wishing he'd look at her. What he said were basically her words, and pretty much what she wanted. At least . . . what she thought she wanted.

Everything
would
be easier this way, safer for both of them.

“Yes, that's . . .” She had to clear the knot in her throat. “That's good. We're, um, enjoying each other's company. That's it.” Even though, at the moment, she wasn't enjoying any of this.

R
oark stalked around his office, trying to accept what Madison had said.

Is that all they were doing? On the one hand, damn straight it was enjoyable, but it was more than that. He
enjoyed
his coffee this morning. What he and Madison shared was . . .

“Damn,” he murmured.

Being with Madison was invigorating, both in and out of bed. He felt alive and challenged; he could be himself and she wasn't put off or offended when he was insistent or straightforward. In fact, she was the same, and she dished it back with a little more on the side.

And the sex . . .

“Damn,” he said aloud again. He didn't have words that would properly capture how he felt being with her.

Yesterday, on their run, was a natural high. Last night was a rush like jumping off Diver's Rock into the lake below. But with Madison, he had no life jacket. He dove in, thinking he could handle the depth. Then it was too late to question otherwise.

“Oh well,” he mumbled. Pointless worrying about it now, he was already in midair. Madison's words were a needed reminder of how hard the landing would be if he lost sight of it.

Caring too much for someone who wasn't on the same plane was a disaster. He had flesh and blood family members who reminded him of that fact, daily.

No. Madison was right. What they did in their free time was their business and he needed to remember to keep it light and fun. Otherwise, people might mistake their camaraderie for something serious, a relationship that had a future.

Someone knocked on his door and he shook off his thoughts.

“Yeah?” he called out.

“You coming or not? Madison said you'd probably want to try these cake samples. You can stay locked up in there if you want, but it means more cake for me.”

Roark opened the door to find Dev leaning against the frame. “That's a yes then?” his brother said.

They walked toward the kitchen, and he was just waiting for Dev to say something about Madison.

“Do me a favor?” Dev slowed his steps.

Here it came. “Sure. What?”

“Even if these cakes aren't the best you've ever had, be gentle about it. Wright has worked his ass off. We don't have to use him if the cakes aren't up to snuff, but don't be all . . . you know. Don't be too hard on him. Let him down easy if it comes to that.”

Roark stopped walking. Dev looking out for Wright wasn't unusual. The two had been buddies forever, and Dev had always treated him like family—better than family in some ways—but this was about more than having Wright's back.

“I'm sure his cake baking is as great as everything else he does in the kitchen. In the unlikely chance it isn't, I wouldn't be hard on him regardless.”

Dev pinched his lips together in a thin, straight line.

“I wouldn't. Come on, I'm not that bad.”

His brother didn't say anything, his silence speaking plenty. Roark would admit he was sometimes hard on Dev, but that was because, after all that Dev had been through, he needed guidance, discipline. Roark had tried to keep his brother somewhere close to the right path since they were kids, and he'd failed, miserably. Now they were adults, and Dev was headed in a much better direction, but Roark struggled not to make suggestions and . . . guide.

“I'm cut-and-dried sometimes, but I know I'm not that bad.”

Dev tilted his head, disagreeing.

“Fine. If the cakes aren't any good, I'll let him down easy.”

“Thank you.” Devlin nodded and they headed to the kitchen.

Wright, Sophie, and Madison waited inside.

“No one in this family is going to miss out on cake.” Sophie smiled at them.

Madison said nothing but moved over to make room beside her.

“Can you blame us? Look at these.” He stood next to her, close enough that their arms bumped together.

Along the prep table, normally used by the sous chef, Wright had lined up five single-layer, round cakes. He wiped his hands on the towel thrown over his shoulder. “I hope you guys like them.”

“I'm sure we will.” Sophie elbowed him before pointing to the first one. “Are both of those chocolate? Because I'm here for the chocolate.”

Wright went down the line of cakes, pointing at each. “I put them in the order they should be tried, for the palate. I didn't bother with traditional wedding cake, since that was eighty-sixed from the start. This first one is caramel cake, next is hummingbird cake with cream cheese frosting, then just a few layers of the mile-high vanilla and chocolate cake, and finally bourbon chocolate cake with brown sugar and caramel frosting.”

“That last one already has my vote.” Sophie wiggled her fingers as Wright sliced a small piece from the first cake and placed it on one of their fine-dining plates.

“For the full effect,” he explained.

They each got a plate and tried the first cake at the same time. A chorus of “mmm” and “yum” filled the air. Madison looked over at Roark as she chewed. She leaned in to whisper, her breasts brushing his upper arm. “How are we going to choose if they're all amazing?”

He'd be satisfied taste-testing the rest of the day and drawing out any decisions, if it meant cake on his plate and Madison pressed against him.

He cleared his throat. “I don't know.”

Next up was the hummingbird cake; fruity, nutty, and creamy. They had a few bites of each until they'd tried them all. Roark was twice as high as the sky on a sugar rush, and firmly in the hummingbird-cake camp.

“Yep. I'm sticking with my vote for the bourbon and chocolate,” Sophie offered, finishing off her slice.

Madison looked over the cakes, still picking at the hummingbird. She waved her empty fork in the air. “The bourbon and chocolate is my favorite too, but it's so rich for an entire cake. I like the caramel, but I'm afraid it would be too . . .”

“Boring?” Sophie ate another bite of chocolate.

“Yes.”

Roark put his plate and fork down with a clang of finality. “The hummingbird cake. That is your wedding cake. It's delicious, textured, known as a Southern treat . . . it's the obvious choice if you want something memorable.”

“I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with him.” Devlin licked his fork clean. “The hummingbird cake is so good, makes you want to smack somebody.”

Sophie paused with her fork on the way to her mouth. “Y'all would think that. Guys don't know cake.”

“A guy baked these cakes!” Dev laughed and poked her full cheek.

She flicked a bit of frosting at him in retaliation.

“Guys,” Roark said, calling them down. It'd been so long since Roark heard his brother laugh, he'd forgotten the sound, but they needed to concentrate on making a decision.

Madison leaned over to look at Devlin. “You make a good point though. Wright is the creator. Wright, which do you think is the best choice for a wedding cake?”

Wright studied all of the cakes before glancing at Sophie. “I tend to agree with Roark and Dev. You can't go wrong with a hummingbird cake. It's a crowd pleaser.”

“Told you.” Roark smiled at Madison, full of pride at his choice.

Sophie set her plate down. “But I don't like nuts in my cake.”

Dev chuckled, so she dug him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Or what if someone has a nut allergy?” Madison tapped her fork against her lips.

“You could have both,” Roark suggested. “Have hummingbird as the main cake and do the chocolate bourbon as a groom's cake. No nuts.”

“That's a lot of work to put on Wright. He'll have enough to do as it is. I'm not sure two wedding cakes—”

“I don't mind,” Wright insisted.

“Yeah, and besides, I usually help with events and catering.” Sophie eyeballed the chocolate cake. “If it means having chocolate cake at the reception, I'll work overtime.”

Madison worried at the inside of her cheek, sucking it in. “You don't think the two will clash? Maybe it's too much cake.”

Sophie shook her head. “That sentence doesn't even make sense. Too much cake?”

Roark looked at the hummingbird and chocolate bourbon cakes beside each other. “I think they'll complement one another, in looks at least. Try tasting them, one right after the other.”

Madison stared down at her empty plate. “I ate all of my chocolate.”

“Here.” Roark picked up his plate, still containing most of his slice. He cut off a bit with his fork, making sure to get the proper cake-to-icing ratio. “Try a bite of your hummingbird again, and then try my chocolate.”

Madison cut off a bite of the hummingbird cake and tried it.

“Now, this one.” Roark held out his fork.

Madison opened her mouth and he slipped the bite of cake between her lips. She smiled as she chewed, her eyes closed and her chin tilted back.

A vivid memory of her unfurled before him, from their run: her head tilted back, eyes closed before she met his gaze, tiny moans of pleasure, and then she cried out with her climax.

Roark cleared his throat and put his fork down. Between the sugar rush and erotic thoughts of Madison, he was going to need another run or a cold shower, or this could get embarrassing.

She finished chewing and opened her eyes with a sigh. “They're delicious together. Rich, yes, but these cakes say
unique, a one-of-a-kind wedding
. You're right. It's so annoying.”

Roark smiled, reaching for her and touching her arm before he realized what he was doing. He dropped his hand and glanced around; the rest of the kitchen had gone silent. Three sets of eyes homed in on him and Madison.

“Okay.” Sophie smiled, gazing over at them. “I vote for both. Two cakes are always better than one, anyway.”

Wright slapped his hands together and picked up the dirty plates. “Perfect. I'll do three tiers of hummingbird and a double tier for the groom cake. Anybody want more before I wrap them up?”

Everyone groaned, but Sophie nabbed what was left of Roark's chocolate cake before Wright could get it. “Dev and I will help clean up.” She winked at Roark. “I'm sure you and Madison have stuff to take care of.”

Once they were outside of the kitchen and alone, walking toward his office, he leaned into Madison. “She definitely knows.”

“I told you.”

He opened his mouth to say he'd make sure she didn't get the wrong idea about what it meant, but he clamped his lips shut. “I have a serious sugar high right now,” he said instead.

“I feel like a slice of cake with two legs. Two sugar encrusted legs.”

“I'm not sure if that was supposed to turn me on, but it kind of is.”

Madison bumped his arm. “No. I mean, I'm a walking sugar rush. What would you say your blood-sugar level is right now? Five hundred?”

“I don't know what you mean.” Roark turned to her, making his eyes as wide as he could.

Her laugh washed over him, making him even giddier, riding high on the sweet wave. Then, brilliance struck.

“You know what would help burn off a sugar high?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe. But I don't think I'm capable of either right at this moment. Especially not running. The other . . . maybe later?”

“I wasn't going to say run.”

The smile that crept across her face was a delight. “Do not say the other right now, because I'm too—”

“We should go swimming.”

Madison blanched. “
You
should have your head checked. It's barely seventy outside.”

“It's seventy-five degrees. Midday September is still warm. Indian summer. It's supposed to be almost eighty on Friday.”

She shivered, even though they were in the cozy reception area. “But it's down in the fifties at night.”

“This wouldn't even be a polar plunge, and those are good for you. Healthy. You're a runner. Come on.”

“Yeah, but . . . cold. And I don't have a suit.”

Roark arched an eyebrow. “Who said you needed a suit?”

With a giggle, she pinched her lips together, but she was giving him a yes or no answer.

“Unless you're too chicken to try it.”

She lowered her chin, giving him that glare. “I bet you used the chicken challenge all the time growing up, didn't you?”

“Some.” He'd used it on his brothers all the time. It always worked on Dev, never on Trevor, but it was worth a shot on Madison. As competitive as she was, a challenge didn't exist that she'd be called too chicken to try.

Madison looked around the great room, and then glared back at him, her mouth set. “I'm not going anywhere near water without four or five towels and blankets. And a heat source.”

He grinned, even as inner doubt niggled. This was a lot of trouble to go through for something that wasn't a “thing.” They didn't have to go swimming together. They didn't
have
to do anything together, and yet here he was, working to convince her that spending more time with each other was a good idea.

“Don't grin at me like you've won this battle. I haven't said yes yet.”

“I can tell Sophie we've gone to . . .”

“Meet with Brenda, the florist, in town?”

“Yes.” He snapped and pointed at her. “Good one. So, that's a yes?”

“No.”

No was probably the smart option here. They should each take care of their ever growing list of responsibilities and spend all afternoon neck-deep in work. If they happened to fall into bed again later tonight, great. If not, that would have to be fine too. It shouldn't matter.