Downhome Darlin' & The Best Man Switch (35 page)

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Authors: Victoria Pade

BOOK: Downhome Darlin' & The Best Man Switch
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Ted tugged on the sleeve of her dress. “My name's Ted, honey,” he told her. “Remember? I explained it all to you.”
Joy giggled. “Oh, right! Ted Whiting and I got married!”
Grant was relieved to hear it, as relieved as he was stunned. He did a mental review of CPR, because Horace looked like a good bet to go into cardiac arrest.
“Good Lord, what happened?” Horace choked out.
Joy beamed a smile bright enough to absorb all the storm clouds outside, and a few in the room as well. “Teddy Bear and I fell in love!”
Mitzi and Grant exchanged amazed smirks.
Teddy Bear?
“But not before we'd been adrift in the Gulf of Mexico all night long.” Joy laughed. “We ran out of gas. Really! Teddy said he was sure he'd had a whole tank. But the Coast Guard had to come get us.”
Mitzi stepped forward, amazed. Talk about a plan backfiring. “You mean, you two got along? The whole time?”
Joy's smile dissolved to a little pout, and she shuffled from her daddy's arms to Ted's. “Well, at first, Teddy was in a bad temper. Especially when we ran out of gas. Oh, we spent the first part of the night fighting like crazy. But I used my psychology expertise to explain to Teddy Bear that he's misplacing his anger at all women because of his mother's death when he was at such a tender age. And that what he really craves is a strong female in his life.”
Ted lifted his chin, as if daring Grant to make fun of him. “Joy's very smart.”
“Later, of course, when we were just concerned with our survival, we bonded,” Joy said. “We didn't have enough food, and no radio. So Teddy and I built a fire on the deck of the boat and started trying to send smoke signals.”
Grant frowned. “What did you burn?”
“Our clothes.”
Mr. Moreland looked green.
Joy punched Ted playfully in the stomach. “Can you imagine? By the time that Coast Guard chopper saw us, we were both hopping up and down on the boat stark naked. And of course, by that time we were getting along a lot better. Especially after Ted had confided his nickname to me.”
“What nickname?” Mona asked.
Joy sent an adoring look up at her new husband, whose chest was puffed up proudly. “Mr. Love.” She emitted a breathy sigh. “This morning after we were rescued, we decided to run off to Louisiana to get married.” Joy flashed her third finger, left hand, which bore a diamond ring. “See?”
Mona eyeballed the chunky stone appreciatively. “You did pretty well for yourself for a first date.”
Joy nodded and laughed. “I've never been so happy! I've always said I'd only marry for love and for life, and this is it!”
Mitzi, still amazed, couldn't help feeling happy for her. And even for Ted. They both seemed absurdly, blissfully happy. In fact, the only one in the room not beaming with goodwill was the bride's father.
“This is the nuttiest thing I've ever heard of,” Horace told his daughter. “You can't just run off and marry one of these irresponsible, lunatic Whiting men! I won't allow it!”
Mona tore her gaze from the diamond and turned on Horace, her face every bit as red as his. “And I won't allow you to talk about my sons that way in my house!”
“Sons!” Horace snapped. “Why would you stand up for two lunatics when they aren't even your own flesh and blood?”
To Grant's surprise, Mona looked genuinely angry. “They might not be my own blood, Mr. Moreland, but Ted and Grant have been nothing but responsible and kind toward me ever since their father died. They could have left me out in the cold, forced me back to the cocktail lounge, and contested the fact that my husband left me a quarter interest in the store. But no, they were kind and understanding and even tried to reason with me when I foolishly wanted to sell the family's business to you.
“But now I wouldn't sell Whiting's if my life depended on it, which, thanks to the stewardship of these two men you call lunatics—” she gestured proudly to Grant and Ted “—it doesn't. So you can just take your money and skedaddle back to Saint Louis, Mr. Moreland. We're not selling!”
Even Truman, who had been looking rather startled up to this point, was roused by Mona's words. “Hear! Hear!”
Grant, besides feeling overwhelmed by Mona's defense of him, felt almost weak with relief that the ordeal was over. He hugged Mitzi to his side and smiled at Ted, who gave him a thumbs-up.
Horace smashed his hat on his head and glared at them all. “Before I go back to Saint Louis I'm going to the best lawyer in town to see about an annulment. And then, once that's done, I'll call in my board of directors and ask them what they think about hostile takeovers!”
Then he stomped out of the room, leaving a loaded silence in his wake. For a moment, the six people left behind merely gaped at the closed door.
Joy glanced a little apologetically at all of them. “I think secretly he's really very happy for me. Don't you?”
Everyone hastened to assure her that this was probably the case. But Grant felt nervous. “What he said about a hostile takeover, would he really?”
Joy shrugged. “Daddy can be sort of mule-headed at times.”
That was putting it mildly. Grant sighed, and looked at Ted. His brother grinned. “Hey, don't worry so much. We're all family now.”
But given the fact that Mr. Moreland had just stomped out screaming that he would have the marriage annulled, Ted's assurance didn't have a full-bodied ring to it.
“I'll take care of it tonight,” Grant said, turning to pick up his coat from under the pile of clothes on Mona's bed. It would be best to work on Mr. Moreland now, while the shock was wearing off. Maybe he could make the man believe that a hostile takeover at this point would be traumatic for the newlyweds. Horace doted on Joy; he was bound to see that busting up her marriage wouldn't endear him to her.
“Grant?”
At the sound of Mona's voice, he turned back to his four relatives watching him expectantly. A chill swept through him. Someone was missing. “Where's Mitzi?”
“Gone,” Ted said. “She ducked out a second ago.”
Mona nodded. “She was muttering something about steaks and bubble baths.” A black eyebrow raised questioningly.
Joy blinked. “Why, she's the same woman I saw at the hairdresser's yesterday!” She frowned in utter confusion. “But she said she and Grant Whiting were finished.”
Finished was right, he feared. For a moment, he'd forgotten completely about their private party, forgotten that this was Mitzi's last night. Forgotten about Mitzi, period.
Grant scurried out the door and down the stairs just in time to catch a glimpse of her raincoat-clad back heading through the crowded hallway toward the living room. He began to weave his way through the milling, dancing crowd in the living room.
He was stopped halfway through the room when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Grant! Where are you running off to?”
It was Brewster. “Have you seen Mitzi?”
Brewster nodded. “She just ran through here looking as if piranhas were nipping at her heels.”
Leave it to Brewster to fit a fish into the picture somehow. Grant frowned.
“I offered to drive her but she said something about swimming toward a bus.”
She would have to swim on a night like this. At just that moment, a bolt of lightning struck outside, punctuating the rhythm of the band's rendition of “Mona Lisa.”
“I've got to find her,” Grant said, leaving Brewster in his dust He didn't know how he was going to square his business obligations with Mitzi's last night, but he feared he wouldn't have to worry about it. He had the terrible feeling that he'd already blown it.
 
THE ROOM WAS SO THICK with revelers Mitzi could barely get through. It didn't help that her eyes were pooled with tears and she had a hard time seeing. How had it happened? How had she managed to travel a thousand miles and get herself involved with yet another workaholic? A man who would punt their last romantic evening together over a hypothetical takeover.
She finally reached the sliding glass door that let out onto the back patio and yanked it open. The landscaped area would have been stunning on a clear day. Huge trees created a canopy around the large pool, which was an elaborate affair with tile splashes and several mermaid fountains feeding into it. The Roman-bath effect suited Mona's old-Hollywood taste.
Picking her way across the slick pebbled surface of the deck, she had almost cleared the pool when she heard the door slide open behind her. Grant came running toward her, his shirtsleeves still rolled up as they had been when he had been anxiously calling hospitals, and his raincoat on his arm.
“Mitzi!” His voice competed with a clap of thunder.
She spun on her heel to face him.
He looked flabbergasted. “Where are you going?”
“home.”
A wounded expression appeared in his eyes. “Please don't be unreasonable about this.”
A fat raindrop plopped onto her nose as she stood gaping at him, stunned beyond belief. She had expected him to come out with any number of things—an apology would have been nice, for starters. The man hadn't even introduced her to his family, and then he'd forgotten all about her in his hurry to find Mr. Moreland. She also had expected him to cajole her into complacency. Workaholics were good at that.
I'll be there as soon as I can,
they always said. Meanwhile, the ice around the champagne would turn to a lukewarm puddle, and the steaks would char to a crisp. Mitzi wouldn't even have been surprised if Grant had asked her to come along while he spoke to Moreland, which was another suave tactic. The old workas-date approach.
But once again, Grant had surprised her.
“This tops them all,” she exclaimed. “You think I'm being unreasonable?”
Lightning brightened the sky, illuminating the hint of doubt in Grant's eyes. “Moreland was talking hostile takeover,” he said, sticking to his guns.
Mitzi rolled her eyes. “He was just angry. He didn't mean it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he was mad about his daughter getting married. Before Joy and Ted came in, he'd already said he didn't want to have anything more to do with Whiting's.”
“But that doesn't rule out a hostile takeover.”
Mitzi sighed. It was hopeless. Grant would always put the store first, and she would be left hanging.
He came closer. “Look, I'm sincerely sorry I blanked out for a minute. I completely forgot about our plans. I know we were going to have that thing back at Kay's place.”
She snorted in offense to hear their last-night party, which she had been breathlessly anticipating, reduced to a “thing.”
“I'll be there just as soon as I can,” he promised.
Mitzi grinned, but shook her head as the familiar, expected words tumbled from his mouth as if they'd been scripted in advance. And maybe they had. From the way he sounded, he could have been any one of the big three who had preceded him. Except that her heart ached more to hear the words coming from him.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I expected better from you, Grant,” she said, her voice coming out shaky. She tried without success to still the tremble. “I thought we were working toward something special.”
She turned to walk away before she could make an idiot of herself, but she was stopped by his hand on her arm. Even now, his touch had the power to send an electric current zipping through her.
“Mitzi, wait,” he said, obviously searching for words to smooth things over. Silently she prayed he would find them. “Would you like to come along with me while I talk to Moreland?”
He could have slapped her and she would have taken it better. “Oh, Grant!”
He tossed his hands in the air. “What? What did I say?”
She hadn't thought it possible to fall in love with a man in a week. She had laughed when Kay had forecast that she would. But in spite of it all, she had. But now it turned out the man she'd fallen in love with so recklessly was just like all the others.
“Now this thing with Moreland has come up,” Grant explained, “and I have to deal with it.”
“Ted could deal with it,” she said. “It's his in-law.”
Grant shook his head. “Ted can't handle a situation like this. It requires finesse.”
“I think you're avoiding the issue, Grant.”
His hand squeezed on her arm. “What issue?”
“Us.”
It was only then that Mitzi realized they were drawing a crowd. About twenty guests had gathered under the eave of the patio, watching the lovers' spat. Worse, another group stood inside, peeking at the scene through the glass door.

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