Kiss the Bride (26 page)

O
nce the renovations had been completed, Tish came back to tape the “after” video for the
American Home Design
contest, and they mailed it off just in time for the deadline.

But now Lucia’s house had been on the market for a week, and no one had shown the slightest interest in it.

“No problem,” the real estate agent Margaret Krist insisted. “It’s only been seven days.”

But Delaney couldn’t stop worrying. The potential buyers that Margaret ushered through complained the house was too brightly colored, or too provincial, or not elegant enough, or too themed.

Delaney feared she should have listened to conventional wisdom and painted the walls white, with chic but generic decor. She shouldn’t have listened to Nick. She shouldn’t have tried to shake things up. Her experiment had failed.

Lucia told her not to worry, that they just hadn’t found the right buyer who could really fall in love with the place.

Unfortunately time was running out for Lucia, and Delaney felt responsible.

The impulse to buy Nana Vinetti’s house herself was strong, but how could she? She was marrying Evan, and he would never go for it. Not even for investment property. A house this old would require a lot of TLC. Something he had neither the time nor the inclination to pursue.

The third week the house was on the market, Delaney started to sweat. Another week and Lucia would be closing on the condo. But she couldn’t close on it until her home had sold. Determined that her friend would not be left high and dry, Delaney took matters into her own hands and began contacting her mother’s friends, telling them about the fabulous island home for sale. But the women in her mother’s circle weren’t impressed with Galveston. They had second homes in Florida and California and Hawaii and beyond.

She’d run out of options.

Glumly, she sat in her office, trying to figure out what more she could do, when the telephone rang.

“Ms. Delaney Cartwright?”

“This is she.”

“This is Winn Griffin from
American Home Design.
”

“Yes?” Her voice went up an octave as her grip tightened around the receiver.

“I’m pleased to inform you that your entry of Mrs. Lucia Vinetti’s Galveston Island home has won second place in our contest.”

Excitement shot Delaney to her feet. “Really?”

“You and Mrs. Vinetti will share the twenty-five-thousand-dollar second prize, and the video you submitted will be featured on the next installment of
American Home Design
.”

“That’s amazing. Thank you, thank you.”

“The renovations you did on the home were charming.
Your entry really captured our judges’ imaginations. Tuscany meets Queen Victoria. Brilliant work.”

She wasn’t the one with the brilliant idea. It had been all Nick’s doing. Shake it up, he’d told her, and he’d been so right.

“You’re a truly talented designer, Ms. Cartwright, and I’m sure this exposure will skyrocket your house-staging business.”

“How soon will we get the money?” she asked, thinking that the money would be enough for the down payment on Lucia’s condo.

“It takes six to eight weeks to process payment through our accounting firm.”

That was too bad. The money wouldn’t arrive before Lucia was due to close on the condo.

Maybe this time Lucia would accept a loan from her. She’d tried to get her to borrow the down payment from her before, but Lucia’s fierce pride would not let her take Delaney’s money. Perhaps knowing that the money was coming to her eventually would sway Lucia’s thinking. Especially since she had that heart condition.

She’d told herself she would worry about that later. Right now, she had good news to share. Lucia’s house was going to be featured on
American Home Design.

The Vinetti clan along with Delaney and Tish gathered at Lucia’s house for an
American Home Design
watching party.

Nick hadn’t seen Delaney since they’d finished the house, just a few days after the Fourth of July party.

The minute she walked through the door, everyone was on their feet to greet her, welcoming her like part of the family.

She looked elegant as always—expensive and classy in a beige skirt cut from some kind of soft flowing material that made it look like water parting when she moved. Her top was simple, black and sleeveless, showing off her well-toned arms and smooth, creamy skin. The minute she saw him, her soft green eyes crinkled along with her perfectly straight nose and she smiled slightly, shyly.

And Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her.

That smile was a missile launched straight into his heart.

It was over, he realized. After tonight he would probably never see her again.

Nick was going to miss her more than he’d ever thought possible. She’d brought lightness into his life at a time when everything looked dark and dismal. She’d made him believe in possibilities again, even though she was way beyond what he had any right to fantasize about.

He fought the feeling. Fought it hard. He didn’t want to fall in love again. Couldn’t fall in love again. Not with a woman who was marrying another man.

It was easy enough to avoid Nick in a room crowded with people, but Delaney couldn’t seem to stop her gaze from straying over to him throughout the broadcast of
American Home Design.
He caught her studying him a couple of times. She would duck her head and will the heat not to rise to her cheeks. She didn’t want anyone else noticing what he could do to her with just one meaningful glance.

When the first-, second-, and third-place winners of the contest were announced, the room broke into applause. The program ran the video of the third-place winner first. It was a house built among the trees near the Oregon coastline, and then they went on to Delaney’s entry.

“Great video footage,” Gina told Tish.

“Great house decorating,” Nick’s brother Richie said.

“It was a great idea to go with the Tuscan style, Nick,” Delaney said, her eyes on him. “I’m glad you nixed the stark white.”

He met her gaze with his intense stare, and she couldn’t stop herself. This time she did blush.

The television show went to commercial before the final winner was announced, but the Vinettis had already seen the winning home. Everyone was talking at once. Someone broke open a bottle of champagne. Someone else muted the television and turned on a recording of Italian love songs. Lucia brought a tray of antipasto into the room. Zack and Jack trailed behind her with another tray of mini-pizzas and finger sandwiches made from prosciutto and provolone.

It was officially a party.

Delaney avoided Nick and Nick avoided Delaney.

They stayed at opposite sides of the room, both pretending not to notice that they were noticing each other. Restlessly, he prowled his corner, shooting quick, searing glances at her from time to time.

His leg was almost healed. She hadn’t seen him limp in a long time. She was glad for Nick. He’d be returning to work soon, and that should make him happy. He deserved to be happy.

Except that he did not look very happy.

He looked tormented, and she had the most awful realization that she was the cause.

Unnerved by the black look in his eyes, Delaney escaped into the kitchen to see if Lucia needed any help. The older woman was standing at the stove stirring a simmering pot of marinara sauce that smelled like Tuscan heaven.

Lucia turned to smile at her and slipped an arm around her waist. “Delaney, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me and my family.”

A warm glow of affection for Lucia filled her up. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job.”

“It’s more than a job and you know it. The amount of love you poured into this house is exceptional. You’ve taken the heart of this place and made it bigger than anyone thought it could be. You’re an artist, and I’m so pleased you chose my house as your canvas.”

“I only hope that by expressing my creativity I didn’t ruin your chances of selling the house. It got us on
American Home Design
, yes, but it doesn’t achieve your ultimate goal.”

In the distance, below the noisy hubbub of the Vinettis’ celebration, the phone rang. A few seconds later Gina came into the kitchen wagging the cordless in her hand. “Delaney, it’s for you.”

She took the phone. “Hello?”

“Delaney, I’ve got fabulous news,” Margaret Krist, the real estate agent, exclaimed.

“What’s up?”

“We’ve had a bid on Lucia’s house. The potential buyer saw
American Home Design
and they just have to have it so they called me on my cell phone. Get this, they offered fifty thousand dollars over the price we were asking before the program aired.”

Emotion overcame her—relief, happiness tinged with a dose of sadness that it was over. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Oh, that’s not all.”

Delaney could feel the excitement in Margaret’s voice. “How much better can it get?”

“My phone has been ringing off the wall with clients
wanting you to stage their houses. Check your messages. I’m sure you’ve received a lot of phone calls as well. This is it, Delaney. Your career has just been made. All your dreams are coming true.”

Delaney looked through the archway from the kitchen into the living room, saw Nick playing with Zack and Jack, and her heart just sank. Margaret was wrong. There was one dream she knew would never come true.

“Thank you, Margaret,” she said. “I’ll let the Vinettis know.” She hung up the phone and broke the joyous news to the family. The crowd let out a shout of happiness.

She found herself deposited breathless and laughing in the kitchen right next to Nick, who looked moody and disgruntled. She reached out to touch his arm.

“We did it,” she said. “We restored your grandmother’s house and got an offer just in time for her to close on the condo.”

Nick hardened his jaw. She saw the emotion play across his face. Sadness, regret, anger.

Was he mad at her? She didn’t understand. “You’re not pleased?”

He didn’t say anything. He just removed her hand from his arm, got up, and walked out the back door.

Now this was ridiculous. She was tired of his moodiness. She knew he’d been through a lot. But enough was enough. He needed a good, swift kick in the seat of his pants. He’d lost a lot, yes, but the man seemed to have no idea what he had. And she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

Delaney went after him.

He was already climbing into his pickup truck.

What was his problem? Her hurt and rejection turned to fury. How dare he spoil his grandmother’s party?
Determinedly, she followed, yanking open the passenger door and hopping inside as he started the engine.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

“With you.”

“You’re not invited.”

“Too bad.” She thrust out her chin and folded her arms over her chest. “I’m going anyway, I…”

“Get a clue; I don’t want you here,” his deep, belligerent voice cut her off, his face looking like a volcano about to erupt. She half expected to see plumes of smoke rising out of his ears. He was steamed, and as far as she could see he had no excuse for his behavior.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

“If you don’t get out of here, be forewarned, woman, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

“What’s the matter with you?” she scolded. “You’re acting like a butthead.”

Some of the family had come out on the back porch and were staring at them as they sat in his truck.

Nick swore loudly, put the pickup truck in reverse, and blasted out of the drive.

“What’s your deal?”

He shot Delaney a visual bullet with enough power to arm a dictator-toppling death squad. Nick gripped the steering wheel so tightly she feared it would snap off in his hands. Grinding his teeth, Nick was headed for Seawall Boulevard, his brow furrowed. He did not speak a word.

Delaney shrank back against the seat, uncertain what to do next.

They drove in silence, past the main drag, away from the cluster of lights toward the secluded beach where the family had picnicked on the Fourth of July. He took the sandy road too fast and the truck bottomed out.

Delaney clutched the seat belt with both hands, hanging on for dear life. They bumped out onto the beach. There was no one else in sight. Nick pulled up on the hard-packed sand just short of the water, shut off the engine, and got out.

He went around to the passenger side and flung open the door. “Out,” he commanded.

Her eyes widened. What was going on here? He was so forceful, so masculine. It both scared and thrilled her.

“You’re going to leave me here?”

“You wanted to come, you wanted to hear this, well get out of the truck and listen.”

“Why couldn’t we have had this discussion while we were driving?” She glanced nervously around the dark, empty beach. “Or back at your grandmother’s house?”

“Because I needed to move.” He fisted his hands and paced the sand. “Because I’m so filled up with… with…”