Magical Weddings (96 page)

He’d moved the extra chair around, behind the desk. For her, presumably, since he sat in her nice leather chair, like he was Bloody Chairman of the Board or something. He probably thought she needed his business too badly to complain about it.

And he’d be right.

Or maybe he thought she’d be thrilled to sit beside him while they went over the order. If he hadn’t been such a snob, she probably would have. Either way, she wasn’t going to suck up. Mallory Mayhue sucked up to no one. And she wouldn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed his little maneuver. She wouldn’t say anything, but she wasn’t about to take the empty seat either.

She walked around the desk, then backed up and lifted her butt onto her half, before putting her shoes on the seat of the crappy chair. Then she gave him a big smile.

Let him be uncomfortable this time.

He pointed to her stem-smeared tennis shoes. “Wouldn’t you prefer to sit?”

She lifted an innocent brow. “I am sitting, but thank you.”

He cocked his head. “Right.” His eyes were an amazing shade of ice. They were absolutely mesmerizing. “First, let me say that you’re charging an exorbitant sum if you merely plan to
try
to do something for my step-sister.”

That phrase, “I’ve never been so insulted in my life,” seemed pretty inadequate to describe Mallory’s emotions after
never having been so insulted in her life
. And the snob thought he was going to get away with it.

He opened a thin valise and slipped out a copy of the order/contract. She reached around and picked up the file she’d already pulled from the drawer preparing for the appointment. She took out her copy and set the file down. Normally, she would have picked up a pen, too, but she realized she’d sat on it.

“You’ll need a pen,” he said. The edge of his lips twitched. She had to give him credit for not actually looking at her butt. They both knew the pen was under it.

She looked around the small area of desk not covered by her derriere, praying there would be another one. She found a green lid that luckily was still attached to a pen from the bank.

She gave herself a mental high five and smiled at the ass hat.

“Your move,” she said, narrowing her eyes a little.

He cocked his head, then seemed to appreciate the fact that they were about to play a game of chess. He’d already made his opening gambit when he’d insulted her, but she’d make him pay for that later. For now, she wanted him to believe her on the defensive.

“Line item number one,” he read aloud in that sexy accent. “Linens.”

Mal reached for the folder again, pulled out the sketches that showed where every table and every linen would be placed. But when she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off.

“I have no issue with the number of linens ordered. Black seems appropriate, but I do have an issue with the color
electric lime.
This is to be an elegant affair, Ms. Mayhue, not an event at Disneyland.”

Okay. That was it. She couldn’t bite her tongue or pretend to be polite any longer. But she did take just a second to search for a professional way of telling him he was S.O.L. When nothing came to mind, she snorted. Then she laughed. Then she laughed so hard she lost her balance on the corner of the desk and fell off it.

When her butt hit the thin, unpadded carpet, Ass Hat jumped to his feet—not to help her, but to glare at her. Apparently, he didn’t like the idea of being laughed at. She took pity on him and got control before she got up off the floor.

She took a deep breath and tried not to smile. “Sit down. Please, sit down. I was just caught off guard, that’s all. If you’ll just sit down, I’ll explain.”

Reluctantly, he sat. He rested his elbows on the chair arms and folded his hands. His nostrils flared slightly and his jaw flexed, but she pretended not to notice. She pulled the extra chair around to the side of the desk and sat in it like a human being. If she started laughing again, she really didn’t want to be within easy reach.

“First of all,” she said, “I apologize. I hope you can appreciate the fact that I only slept for an hour last night and I’m a little out of it. It’s no excuse, I know.” She took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I wasn’t laughing at you so much as I was laughing at the situation. Changing the color of a wedding two weeks before the date isn’t possible—even if the bride wanted to do it. Her bridesmaid dresses were custom made. Cumber-buns were ordered to match. The color Pemberly chose has been used as a theme for everything. From refreshments to invitations, to say nothing of the flowers. I personally went shopping in July for the ornaments we’re hanging over the tables and the cake.

“If your sister wanted to change her colors, it would cost a small fortune and take a small army to do it. But I don’t think she would ever consider it. And my job, after all, is to make the bride happy. I’m sure her happiness is your first priority too.”

He cleared his throat and nodded once.

Mal sat forward. “She’s twenty-two, or twenty-three?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Maybe you’ll feel better knowing that eighty percent of brides under twenty-one choose a variation of either pink or blue. Those over twenty-one usually choose some shade of yellow, green, or red. Brides twenty-six and older stick with black and white, or champagne.”

“And what color did you choose, Ms. Mayhue?” He glanced at her left hand.

She fought the urge to stick that hand in her pocket. He could see she wore no ring, so why set her up to have to admit she wasn’t married? It wasn’t like he planned to hit on her. He couldn’t stand to even shake her hand. Did he want to embarrass her, or was she just paranoid?

She decided to ignore the question altogether. She got up and walked to the utility shelves against the wall, refusing to be embarrassed by the warehouse feel of the room. A stack of pale gold boxes filled one shelf and she pulled one down. After setting the box on the desk, she took off the lid and very carefully lifted out one of the two delicate ornaments from the white satin bed.

“This is one of the ornaments we’ll be using in the centerpieces and dangling around the wedding cake.
This
is electric lime. Most of the linens will be black, but a few of them will match this—primarily beneath focal pieces, like the seven tiered wedding cake.

“Your sister is set on having a Christmas wedding. I’m sure she’s told you about the horse-drawn sleighs to take the guests over the causeway to Harmony Lodge.”

“Sleighs? Are you so certain there will be snow?”

“The extended forecast is for snow that day. But if not, there will be wheels on the carriages. It is my job to be prepared for every possibility. My job to worry, so the bride doesn’t have to.”

He was assessing her again. His eyes wandered down to her stained apron, then over to her hand where the ornament still hung from her finger. He held out a perfectly manicured, though ruthlessly masculine hand.

“May I?”

Mal hesitated and bit her lip for a moment.

He frowned slightly. His hand never dropped.

Finally, she said, “I think Pemberly didn’t want anyone to see these until the reception.”

His frown lifted and he smiled with half his lovely mouth. “My dime, as they say.”

Mal took a deep breath. London’s warning echoed in her head.
Try not to lose your temper.

Just give the ass hat what he wants
, she told herself. At least calling him an ass hat, in her mind, let off a little steam.

She braced herself and held out the ornament. He slipped his fingers through the string, then gently turned it back and forth, picking up every little detail in the painting of Pemberly, in her wedding dress, with a fluffy white fur around her shoulders.

“Hand painted,” he murmured. “Exceptional work.”

Somewhere, in her heart, little fireworks went off. Only then did she realize how afraid she’d been that he’d belittle her talent. Still, she wouldn’t tell him she’d done them herself. Even the bride didn’t know. And she wasn’t going to show him any more of them. Each ornament depicted some detail of the wedding and reception. Her favorite was the one with the bride and groom in a sleigh.

He handed it back. Mal thought his eyes looked a little moist. She was almost...touched.

“I trust the artist was well paid.”

Mal ignored the statement and placed the ornament back in its box.

“How about this? I’ll try to paint you a little picture of Pemberly’s reception, as planned, and if you still have questions, I’ll do my best to answer them.”

He gave the slightest hint of a smile, then nodded. Once, like before. Like he was the Queen of England giving his royal permission.

Mal turned her back before she rolled her eyes. She walked to the door and shut it, revealing a big white board on the wall. The Crowshaw Wedding was still laid out on it, so she pulled a baby wipe from its box and cleaned the surface. Drawing a quick sketch of the Harmony Lodge was easy. She’d done it a hundred times. Then she drew the little island in the middle of the lake upon which the lodge sat. Then she added the causeway leading from the island to the shore. A big square was added for the parking lot. When she turned to face him, she was in event-planner mode.

“Most of the roadway leading to the lake is kept plowed by the county. It’s along the short cut between Park City and the University of Utah Hospital. These roads get plowed first, and often. I also have two trucks lined up to keep the smaller road drivable, along with the parking lot. If the main road gets neglected, I can divert one truck to help out there. The Summit County Sherriff promised me that won’t be necessary, but I don’t trust anyone who isn’t on my payroll.”

“You really
are
expecting snow?”

“Absolutely. I expect everything… Mr. Adams, is it? And I plan for it. I expect power outages, I expect cars to slide off the road. I expect the worst, then make sure we’re ready to remedy the situation.”

“My name is not Adams, by the way. Pemberly is my step-sister. My father and her mother married later in life.”

“Oh, how romantic.” She gave him a smile.

“It wasn’t romantic of them to die two years later, I assure you.” He almost sounded like he might have some emotion after all, but his face showed nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

He looked surprised by her sympathy. Or maybe he thought she was rude to comment at all. In any case, she felt like the safe thing to do would be to turn back to the white board. She’d taken flower orders from hundreds of grieving families in her career and she was usually excellent when it came to reading customer’s emotions. But Big Brother was impossible to read, probably because she was tired and paranoid. She admitted that she was more than a little breathless when she looked at him, so she tried not to do so as much as possible. And if it weren’t her own issues standing in the way of her intuition, she would blame it on the fact the guy was a British snob. He might not have any emotions at all.

She took a deep breath and started drawing little starbursts around the board as she talked.

“So. The guests will enter the parking lot here. The space will accommodate three hundred cars, but we’re using up about one hundred spaces for the helipad here.” She drew a circle in the bottom right corner of the square. “And a forty-by-thirty foot tent here. We’ll have shelters set up behind the lot for the carriages and horses.”

She added squiggles in the appropriate places.

“The tent will have heaters, hot beverages, and appetizers for the guests while they are waiting for the sleighs—or carriages—that will take them over the causeway and drop them at the lodge. There will be three vehicles. No one should have to wait long.”

She drew the path they would take.

“The sleighs will circle the drive, drop off, pick up, then come back to the tent. The causeway has two lanes. And when the reception is just about over, the wedding party and family will come out to the tent and wait for the bride and groom. A sleigh will bring Pemberly and Jordan last. Everyone will have a cone filled with rose petals to toss at them as they slowly ride past. Then they’ll stop here and get on the helicopter. If it storms that day, the chopper won’t be able to fly. If the roads get bad, I have two Snow Cats standing by to get them to an alternative honeymoon site in Park City.”

She turned back to the desk, but he wasn’t there. Then she gasped when she realized he stood right behind her. Shivers shot up her spine. For being a cold and callused foreigner, he sure brought out a helluva lot of emotions in her. And not all of them rebellious.

Now that they were on equal footing, she realized he was a head taller. And he smelled like expensive car leather. She tried not to enjoy it.

“You scared the crap out of me,” she whispered.

He didn’t apologize. He just pointed to her crude drawing with his chin. His hands were back in those 007 pockets.

“You must be joking,” he said. “You’ll be paying more for contingency plans than you will for the cost of the reception itself. Why don’t you merely explain to Pemberly that it’s going to snow and she’ll have to choose a nice hotel in Salt Lake City for her reception?”

Mal’s stomach sank. He really was going to cancel half the wedding. And it would break her heart to have to cancel on the carriage and snowplow drivers who had already planned on a paycheck from her. She’d almost rather give up Ivy and Stone than do that to people right before Christmas.

She looked around the undecorated office. One day, very soon, she was going to miss it. She sighed, then looked into Big Brother’s startling eyes.

“Do you know Pemberly well?”

He puffed out his chest, just a little, but enough that she noticed.

“Yes,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I do. She has spent a great deal of time at my summer estate, and we’ve spent Christmas together every year since the death of my father.”

She took heart.

“So, you must have heard her talk about Harmony Lodge before. She told us that she’s always dreamed of having her reception there. She said, thanks to you, she can have everything she always wanted.”