Always the Designer, Never the Bride (24 page)

"I think that's what you said about my place in New York, isn't it?" Audrey pointed out.

"Did I?"

"Yes. You said it looked like a design studio that I flopped in for a while."

The corner of Carly's mouth tilted into half a grin. "I guess I did say that."

"Not everyone is like you, Caroline. Some of us take another road."

"Well . . . you all should just stop it."

That broke the tension and all three of them laughed.

"I just want you to be happy, Aud."

"And J. R.," Devon added.

"Yes. I want him to be happy too."

"So maybe you should let him follow his bliss?" Audrey suggested.

"On a motorcycle, on the road forty weeks every year?"

"If that's where it takes him."

The front door whooshed open, keys jingled, and J. R.'s footsteps announced his return. Devon stroked Carly's hair one last time before turning toward the doorway.

"Thanks for going, bro."

"No problem," he said as he set two bags of groceries on the table. "Hey, Audrey."

"Hi, J. R."

He looked from one of them to the other before asking, "What's going on?"

"I know we've sort of started things with dinner, but do you know what I'd like to do?" Devon piped up. "Let's get out of here, what do you say?"

"Devon, you can't."

"I can, sweetie. I feel good. We won't do anything like climb a rock wall or anything. Let's go out to Happy Days again, just the four of us."

"You can't bowl."

"So I'll eat burgers and sing karaoke."

"Oh, no," Audrey cried.

"Come on. How many times will all four of us be in one place?" Devon reminded them. "My sweetie and my bro, you two BFFs. Give me this before I ship out."

"We are not going to Happy Days, Dev."

"How about we just go out for dinner somewhere then? Somewhere low key. Just the four of us."

"What about Morelli's?" Audrey suggested. "The food is magnificent."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely about the food. Having dinner at the hotel would get her back to the room for some work time that much sooner.

Devon checked in with Carly. "Okay?"

"All right. Let me put away the vegetables."

"So we're up for it? I'll get dressed."

They exchanged glances, and J. R. groaned. "All right, but don't think you're going to pull that 'Before I ship out' card three times a day until you leave."

As he passed J. R., Devon smacked his brother's arm. "How about once a day, just because I can?"

"Move it out before we change our minds."

"I'm so sorry. We won't have a table for four until at least nine o'clock. Would you like me to put you on the list?"

Sails deflated, wind nonexistent.

"No, thank you." Carly rubbed Devon's arm. "Sorry, baby."

While the four of them stood at the entrance of the restaurant considering their options, Audrey spotted Sherilyn strolling through the lobby, and J. R. waved and caught her eye.

"Hey!" she sang as they moved toward one another. "What's up?"

"We had the colossal bad idea of coming out for dinner without making a reservation," he said on a laugh as Audrey walked up to them.

"Oooh, yeah. It's a really busy night at Morelli's."

"Any guidance on where we can go nearby?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," she replied as Carly and Devon joined them as well. "We had a cocktail party in the courtyard earlier, and they're just cleaning up. It's a gorgeous night. How about I ask Pearl to set you up with a light supper out there?"

"Really? A private party? That sounds like fun," Carly cried, and she looked around for agreements.

"Good!" Sherilyn answered. "Go on out and make yourselves at home. I'll talk to Pearl and see what she can do for you."

J. R. took the lead, and they moved out to the courtyard where several uniformed waiters removed table linens and placed glasses into plastic bins on rolling metal carts. A breeze rustled the leaves of tall trees laced with hundreds of tiny white lights, and the distant echo of music from one of the ballrooms whispered overhead.

"Here?" Carly suggested, and J. R. nodded.

"Sit down, bro," he told Devon. "You look like you might fall down."

J. R. set about dragging a couple of bistro tables closer together as Carly sat down next to Devon and took his hand. "Baby, you doing all right?"

Audrey took note of Devon's change in color and expression, and it didn't surprise her when Carly helped him to his feet. "I'm so sorry, you two. It was just too soon for Dev. We're going to head back home."

"Do you want me to drive you?" J. R. asked them.

"You and Audrey enjoy your meal. At least you won't have a long way to go home."

"I'm so sorry, guys," Devon offered.

Audrey chuckled. "Take care, Dev." She squeezed Carly's hand and added, "I'll call you in the morning."

"Love you both," Carly said, her focus already shifted to Devon as she led him through the glass doors to the lobby.

"I'll go catch up to Sherilyn and let her know it's just the two of us," J. R. told Audrey. "If you still want to have dinner, that is."

She nodded and shrugged one shoulder. "Of course. Sure."

She watched him go before taking a seat, crossing her legs and leaning back against the cool scrollwork of the chair. She caught the eye of the last waiter. He wheeled a cart and paused at her table.

"Can I have the bartender bring something out for you?" he asked. "I think there's some wine left from the party before."

"Oh, no," she replied. "But thank you."

"Sure thing. Have a good night."

"You too."

Audrey tried to imagine a hotel or restaurant in New York where someone might stop and offer a free glass of wine for no other reason than just to be courteous, but she couldn't manage it. Surely the place existed, but she hadn't run across it in Manhattan, Soho, or anywhere in between.

When the harp in her purse jingled, she expected Kat or Carly on the screen. Instead, Weston LaMont's name appeared.

"Audrey. Wes LaMont. How are you?"

"Doing very well, Wes. Thank you."

"I'm intrigued by the message you left me this afternoon."

"Oh good. That's what I was going for."

His chuckle seemed uncharacteristically good-natured, and she sighed in relief.

"So four-one-one me, my dear."

"I've come upon a design project here in Atlanta," she told him. "It's going to keep me in town for another few weeks, and I'm in the market for some work space to pull it together. I was hoping you might have some room for me at your studio. Just a corner with a machine and a cutting table, a few tools."

"I'm intrigued. What are you working on?"

"A wedding gown for a special client."

"And you'll be staying in town rather than going back to New York?"

"That's the plan."

"Who is your client?"

The question stopped time for a second. She wasn't sure she wanted to reveal any of the details, and she chastised herself for not considering that he might ask for them.

"It's a favor for a friend. Can you help me out?"

LaMont paused for a long couple of moments before he answered. "Let me check our production schedule in the morning, and I'll call you."

"I appreciate it."

"And if I can't manage it right now, I'll have my assistant make a couple of suggestions for you."

"Thank you so much."

Audrey disconnected the phone and slipped it back into her purse before noticing J. R. sitting across from her. She tucked a wave of hair behind her ear and smiled.

"Weston LaMont."

"Genius of draping," he recalled.

"You were listening."

"It's not a common name."

She grinned at him. "I'm hoping he'll rent me some work space in his design studio for this new project I'm working on."

"Carly told me. You'll be sticking around then."

"For a few weeks, anyway. You?"

"I leave for Austin on Tuesday."

A waitress approached their table, halting their exchange for the moment. "Pearl asked me to tell you that our specials tonight are our signature filet bites with creamy horseradish sauce, seared mushrooms and rum-glazed mashed sweet potatoes, or fresh Chilean sea bass with garlic smashed potatoes, sweet corn relish and grilled asparagus."

Audrey's cheeks puffed with air before she blew it out slowly. "Whoa."

"I'll have the first dish," J. R. told her. "Thank you."

"And you, ma'am?"

She paused for a moment. "I was really looking for something a little less extravagant."

"Would you like to see a menu?"

"No," she replied. "I had some wonderful macaroni and cheese the other night. Do you have any of that in the kitchen?"

"Absolutely. It's on our menu every day. Would you like a salad of greens with it?"

"Perfect."

"Dressing?"

"Balsamic."

"And can I bring either of you a cocktail?"

"Just an iced sweet tea for me," Audrey answered.

"Works for me as well."

"All right then. I'll bring your beverages momentarily."

J. R. waited for the waitress to disappear before commenting, "Pretty good for an off-the-cuff little dinner, huh?"

"The Tanglewood doesn't do anything halfway, that's for sure."

J. R. leaned back in his chair and laughed. Audrey didn't know if it was the unique acoustics in the courtyard or just the tone quality of J. R.'s smooth voice, but she felt his laughter in the deepest parts of her.

"You have a great laugh," she told him, and his smile turned slightly lopsided.

"Thanks."

"So how long will you be in Austin?"

"Pardon?"

"You said you're headed there. I just wondered."

"Oh. It's just a shot at a job. I met a guy at a show in Vegas last year. He and five of his buddies have Harleys in their garages that they want to restore so they can make like Easy Riders next summer."

Audrey grinned. "Groovy."

"I guess," he said with a sigh. "It's not that I don't love my work. I do. I love the guys who ride their Harleys every day, you know? But even though the Easy Riders bring in the bulk of my income, I have to admit that it's a little unsatisfying to spend all the time and effort restoring bikes for guys who ride them for a few weeks one summer, and then let them rust away in their garages or under a tarp in the backyard."

"Believe me, I understand," she told him. "Imagine spending months on a design that someone wears once." He nodded. "For only a few hours."

J. R. broke into a full laugh. "Okay, you win."

In stereo, they exclaimed, "Or lose!"

The waitress set two glasses and a pitcher of iced tea on the table. "Your dinner will be out in just a few minutes," she told them.

"So what would you do if you weren't a Harley man?" Audrey asked.

"I love to build things," he replied, and he gulped down some of the tea.

"What, like houses?"

"No. I'm more of a carpenter. In the off months, I shove the motorcycles to the back of my garage and pull out the wood and the sander."

"A carpenter," she said, thinking it over. "So what do you carpent?"

J. R. chuckled. "Bookshelves, cabinets, chairs. Last winter I made a dining table and chairs for one of my customers."

"Really! So you're not so different from me."

J. R. leaned back against the chair and grinned. "Wedding dresses and dining furniture."

"Well," she said with a laugh, "I mean, we start from scratch and build something from the ground up. I craft a beautiful wedding gown, and you create the table the newlyweds will move into their first home. Either way, it's starting with nothing and ending with something, right?"

"Interesting vantage point," he observed. "I suppose you're right."

"I love the rush of starting with a simple sketch, and working for weeks or months to turn that idea into reality. But even though she wears that gown on the most important day of her life, I'll never have the chance that most designers have. I won't walk down a street in Manhattan and run into some girl from the fashion district who's wearing one of my designs. That would be . . .
beyond!"

J. R. leaned forward as he told her, "I was riding into Santa Fe about a year ago, and I saw this amazing bike up ahead of me. I gunned it to catch up and have a look because I could see the thing was cherry. When I got there, I realized it was one of mine. I'd restored it the year before in Tucson, and there it was, riding into Santa Fe."

"See, that makes me almost swoon," she admitted. "I would love to have that experience. Just turn a corner, you know? And see someone wearing an Audrey Regan original."

The waitress laid out their beautiful dinner on the table before them, and Audrey's mouth began to water at first whiff. Conversation flowed freely between them and, when the waitress returned to offer dessert and coffee, she noticed the time on the girl's watch.

"It can't be nine-thirty!" she exclaimed. "How is that possible?"

"Is Mrs. Drummond still in the hotel?" J. R. asked her. "Yes, she'll be here late tonight. She has a vow renewal in the main ballroom. Would you like me to get a message to her?"