 
Jilted in January

By

Clarice Wynter

Published by: Clarice Wynter

copyright 2013, Clarice Wynter

Cover art by Niina Cord

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, brands, media and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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* * * *

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This series is for everyone who needs a little romance in their lives.

With special thanks to: JB Lynn, Jean Cooper and Niina Cord who helped me bring my very ambitious plan to life.
Chapter One

"I don't think I can do this." Harper Shaw rested her forehead on the chilly steering wheel of her car and let out a long, slow breath to calm her frazzled nerves.

In the passenger seat, her best friend Audrey unlatched her seat belt and shifted to look at Harper. "I'd go in alone, but I don't think I can carry everything by myself. You're doing great so far, though. Really. I'm proud of you."

Harper lifted her head and focused on the condensation fog her warm breath had caused on the front windshield. She should have been in Tahiti right now, lounging on a white sand beach, wearing nothing but a tiny string bikini and her shiny gold wedding ring. Instead, she was spending what was supposed to be the first day of her honeymoon driving around the icy streets of Spring River Valley, New York, writing checks to pay for a wedding that had never happened.

Thank God for Audrey or she'd still be face down in her bed with the covers pulled over her head. "Thanks for coming with me. I don't think I could have made it through this without you."

Audrey patted Harper's knee. "You're stronger than you think. Most women I know would have killed the guy who bailed on the rehearsal dinner and rescheduled the honeymoon so he could go alone. Personally, me? I'd be on a plane to Tahiti with a machete, but look at you. You're here, putting everything right, taking care of business."

"After this, can we go buy a machete? Your idea sounds pretty good right about now." Harper had returned her dress to the shop for a fifty percent refund, paid off the flowers, dropped off a check with the DJ and the photographer, and now she and Audrey sat in the parking lot of Taverna Fiora, the catering hall where her reception had been booked. Her last order of business was to pick up the centerpieces and favors she'd dropped off three days ago and hope the new manager would consider returning even a little bit of her deposit since at the moment, she was utterly broke.

Audrey cracked open her car door, letting in the bitter January wind. "No, after this I'm treating you to lunch, then some retail therapy. You need to cap this day off with something new."

"A new machete?" Harper offered as she and Audrey got out of the car.

Her friend rolled her eyes. "Maybe later. Today is all about you. After we're done here. We're not going to talk about Bad Brad or what we'd like to do to him."

Good, Harper thought. Because that could get ugly. She thought she'd cried out all the hurt to him over the phone when he'd called from the airport to tell her he thought he was having a nervous breakdown and needed to leave town to clear his head, but as it turned out, she still had a lot of pent-up animosity left. She'd begged and pleaded and then resorted to swearing and threats, and even those hadn't worked to bring him back to reality, where they had a hundred guests ready to convene at Taverna Fiora for a four-hour reception the very next day. He'd said he was a broken man and he needed to heal. What had broken him and what he needed to heal from, she had no idea, but she'd vowed if she saw him again, he would indeed be very broken and in need of much healing when she was done with him.

She closed her car door and drew in a deep breath of winter air to clear her own head and buck up her resolve. Audrey smiled at her over the roof of the car. "Last stop. It won't be so bad. I promise."

"I hope you're right." Harper put one booted foot in front of the other and stalked across the parking lot to the front entrance of the catering hall, trying not to hum her own new version of the wedding march in her head. Here comes the jilted bride...

* * * *

Grant had never seen such a mess of paperwork in his life. The business office of Taverna Fiora looked like a cyclone had gone through it, and he was the one-man clean-up crew. There were invoices and contracts everywhere, nothing had been filed properly in months and the operating capital account appeared to be only a few hundred dollars in the black at the moment. Great way to start a new year and a new job.

After a fortifying sip of coffee, he picked a pile of bills and receipts to start sorting through, telling himself the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. He had six months to turn TF around before the holding company that now owned the catering hall pulled the plug and sold the building.

He'd gotten three receipts and one bill sorted when a crash from outside his office door had him on his feet. He yanked the door open to find Elaine, the receptionist, standing with her hands on her hips, facing the kitchen. "Elaine?"

"Sorry about that. Raoul is stacking the pans. He dropped some. I was just coming to get you. The bride is here."

"The bride?" That description left a lot to be desired. From what he could tell, TF had sixteen wedding receptions scheduled between January fifth of the New Year and June thirtieth. Beyond that, he'd been advised not to accept bookings unless the place showed a profit before March. "Which bride?"

Elaine stared at him like he'd just said the dumbest thing she'd ever heard. "The bride. You know. From the cancelled wedding."

"You say that like I'm supposed to know which...Ohhh..." There had been a wedding scheduled for January fifth, the last day of his predecessor's dubious tenure at TF. A scribbled note he'd found on his desk blotter mentioned the affair had been cancelled on New Year's Day. Fran Mayweather, the previous business manager, had quit in the middle of that fiasco, prompting the holding company to send in Grant. "That bride."

"She's out in the lobby. Poor girl. They came to pick up the centerpieces. She made them herself, you know. Have you seen them? They're stunning."

"What? No. I haven't."

"Should I send her in?"

"To pick up the flowers? Sure. I don't mind." The main room needed to be cleaned out anyway since they had the Fireman's Annual Dinner scheduled for tonight. That much he knew from the coffee-stained event calendar he'd found under a pile of newspapers in his office.

"What about her deposit?"

Now it was Grant's turn to stare. "What about it?"

"Well, the poor girl. I heard the fiancé took another woman on their honeymoon. He walked out of the rehearsal dinner in front of all her family."

Grant let out a slow breath. "Wow. That's terrible. But I can't give her deposit back."

"Why not?" Elaine seemed shocked. He could tell by the beady glint in her eye he'd just become the mean new boss.

"Well, Elaine, the concept of a deposit is that it's insurance in case something just like this happens, so the caterers still get paid for their time and for the rental of the hall even if the event doesn't occur."

Elaine scowled at him. "I know that. But have a little compassion. The poor girl."

"Poor us, Elaine. TF lost a lot of money on the event. It's a tragedy, obviously, but so will this place going bankrupt be a tragedy. We can't run things the way Fran did anymore."

"Sure. I understand. I'll tell her you can't see her."

"That's fine. Please extend my condolences. I'm very sorry about what happened."

Elaine gave him a wry look and walked off, leaving Grant to skulk back into his train wreck of an office, feeling like something that needed to be scraped off the bottom of a boot. He spent five minutes hating himself for being "that guy" and then dragged himself back out of his office and to the main ballroom.

The place looked magical. Ice-blue table cloths had been laid with dozens of sparking silver snowflakes, and in the center of each rose a pale blue candle set among a winter evergreen wreath sparkling with snowy white flowers and beaded crystal garlands. Elaine had been right. The arrangements were stunning.

At the far corner of the room, two women were loading the centerpieces onto a wheeled cart. Both bundled in parkas against the winter freeze, they looked sort of like penguins. The taller one stopped to pat the shorter one on the back, and he assumed that one had to be the bride. Poor girl.

A second later they turned in unison to face him, removing the possibility of him still being able to slip away unnoticed and avoid any emotional interactions. He had no idea what to say to a jilted bride, so he figured saying nothing at all would keep him out of trouble. Too late for that. He pasted on a business-like smile and crossed the room.

"Good morning, ladies. I'm Grant Addison, the business manager."

The taller one nudged the shorter one. "That's him. Ask him."

"No. I can't." The shorter one pulled a fluffy glove off of one hand and thrust it out toward him. Blue eyes, the same color as the pillar candles in the centerpieces, met his, and despite her unfortunate circumstances, she smiled. "Hi, Mr. Addison. Nice to meet you. I'm Harper Shaw. I guess Elaine told you what happened."

"Yes. I'm very sorry."

She pulled the matching hat off her head, and shook a cascade of wavy dark blond hair lose in a staticky torrent. Grant stared, mesmerized for a moment. She was gorgeous. He couldn't imagine any man walking out on a smile like hers.

She'd said something he missed, and he had to pull himself back to reality. "Excuse me?"

"I said, we won't be long. We're just going to take the centerpieces, and there were some chocolate party favors we had kept the refrigerator, then we'll be out of your way."

"Ask him," the other woman said out of the corner of her mouth. The physical opposite of the blonde, with shorter, dark hair and hazel eyes, she was more sultry where Harper was cool winter sunshine.

"No," Harper whispered back.

"Then I will. Hi, Mr. Addison, I'm Audrey Desmond. I'm the maid of honor, but that's irrelevant. Ms. Mayweather mentioned getting some of Ms. Shaw's deposit back. She said in light of the circumstances..."

Grant cringed. This was why he should have stayed in his office. He didn't like being the bad guy, really, and after looking into Harper Shaw's lovely eyes, he hated it even more. "Ms. Mayweather no longer works here. And part of the reason for that was because she was a bit lenient with our rules. I'm certain your contract states—"

Harper cut him off with a wave. "It's fine. I understand. We couldn't have been more last minute. I really just came to get the centerpieces and the favors."

"You fired Fran?" Audrey asked. "She was so nice."

"Too nice, and she quit." Grant couldn't help but let that comment slip out. Fran was nice, but she was gone, and he couldn't afford to let her compassion sink the ship. "I am sorry."

"Not a problem." Harper turned back toward the table setting she was dismantling. Audrey stared at him, her lips pursed in annoyance. He tried to ignore her and concentrate on Harper. She moved with decided grace for a woman wearing a parka. He couldn't help but wonder about the body underneath the oversized coat.

That made him cringe again. Poor girl, Elaine's disapproving voice rang in his head. She just got dumped by her fiancé, and you're undressing her with your eyes? You suck.

He dragged his gaze away from Harper and looked around the room. The place was dazzling. According to the paperwork he'd found, the Fireman's Dinner had minimal decorations. These were lovely, and not too wedding-like to be out of place.

"Hmm. Uh, Harper? Can I ask what you're going to do with the centerpieces?"

"She made them herself, you know," Audrey offered.

"Yes, Elaine mentioned that. You're very talented. You seem to have an eye for design."

She turned to eye him sidelong. "Thanks. We were going to bring them to the hospital. They always accept flowers for the lobby."

"Ah. That's...a great use for them, but...would you consider a deal?"

She raised a golden brow. "I guess?"

"How about we keep the centerpieces? We can use them this evening, and I'll refund half your deposit. I know that's probably not as much as the flowers cost, but it's the best I can do, and it's for the Firemen."

The two women exchanged a glance. Audrey shrugged.

"That would be very considerate of you, Mr. Addison. Thank you."

"Grant. Please. Thank you. These are really very nice. In fact, one of the ideas I had for the New Year was to offer more services to the guests, like decorating. This would be a great way to introduce that service. Do you have a business card? I'd be interested in seeing some of your other designs for our upcoming events."

"Well, I don't really—ugh." Her reply cut off abruptly, seemingly by Audrey stepping on her foot. "I don't seem to have any of my cards with me right now."

"We'll get you one. We'll drop it off later this afternoon," Audrey said. Harper nodded uncertainly.

"Great. I'm glad something positive could come from this. Come to my office and I'll write you a check. We'll call it payment for the centerpieces."

"Okay. Sure."

Audrey nudged Harper forward, and she followed him across the room, her booted footsteps falling into sync with his as they traversed the dance floor. Grant hoped he'd done the right thing. He really wasn't looking to be the hero, just to avoid an already devastated bride crying her eyes out in his main ballroom. And if he was lucky, the centerpieces would draw some attention tonight. He couldn't charge the Firemen for them, but with city officials on the guest list, there were bound to be people interested in catering other events. The better the place looked, the more chance they'd be able to make bookings and keep profits rolling in. Two birds, one stone, and he'd put a smile on a beautiful woman's face. Not bad for a first day on the job.

# Chapter Two

"My foot still hurts, you know." Harper glared at Audrey over lunch at Colette's Pub. She was lying, of course. In her well-padded snow boot, a truck could have run over her foot and she wouldn't have felt it, but it was the principle of the thing.

"Oh, quit whining. I did what needed to be done."

Harper suppressed a laugh and tried to feign indignation. "Quit whining? A few hours ago you felt sorry for me. Now I should quit whining?"

Audrey leaned over the small table, gesturing with a dill pickle spear. "Did you see him?"

"Who?"

Audrey sighed dramatically. "Grant Addison. Tell me you didn't notice he was drop dead gorgeous."

She had. Oh, had she. The crisp blue business shirt and navy power tie hadn't fooled her. The corporate uniform hadn't done much to hide his broad shoulders and muscular arms. His eyes were a shade or two darker than her own, but deep and mesmerizing. His confident smile had put her at ease even though she'd sensed he was reluctant to return her deposit and she'd been mortified by Audrey's brashness. "Yeah. So?"

Audrey pointed her pickle at Harper. "Don't do this to me. Admit he was hot."

"Okay. He's hot. So?"

"Really? You didn't see it."

"See what?"

"The way his eyes lit up when he saw you. He couldn't stop staring at your mouth while you were talking. He had that dazed expression guys get when they're imagining a woman naked."

Harper's face heated, but she resisted the urge to plaster her iced tea glass to her burning cheek. This was January after all. "He was not picturing me naked. Get real, Audrey. I was wearing an igloo. He'd have to have Superman's X-ray vision to picture me naked in that damn coat."

"Please. Men don't need super powers for that, and trust me, he was daydreaming."

"So explain to me again why you threw me at him? And in case you haven't met me, I'm not a...a centerpiece designer. I don't have a business card because I don't have a business. "

"How often have you talked about wanting to quit the accounting firm and have a design business? You're good at it, and you enjoy it, and here's a chance to do that. He might hire you. How cool would that be?"

Harper leaned back in her chair. "Let's see, me designing wedding centerpieces and party favors reminiscent of the ones I just almost threw out for my own wedding that never happened because my fiancé left me—"

"It won't all be weddings. You heard him. Tonight it's firemen. Hunky firemen."

"He didn't invite me to the party. He invited my centerpieces. So while they might get a date with a hunky fireman, I won't."

"You're missing the point." Audrey sighed and plopped her pickle on her plate. "It's a door opening. A new opportunity. You need to move on to something new."

"This sounds more like moving on to someone new, which I'm not ready for."

"I didn't say marry the guy. But he obviously likes you. He broke his own rule for you, he had you locked in his sights like a deer in the headlights, and he was drooling a little bit."

"Oh, be serious."

"I am. If there's one thing I can tell, it's when a guy is interested. Just make up a business card on your computer, drop it off this afternoon, and see if he calls you, which he will. I know he will. Then you do some work for him and see how things progress."

"Mixing business with hanky panky, is that what you're suggesting?"

"Damn right I am. You need it."

"I need a machete. When can we go get the machete?"

Audrey leaned in again. "Harper, baby, stop thinking about killing 'Badly Bradley' and live in the moment."

"You were the one who suggested the machete, and I wasn't going to kill him. Much." Harper studied the remains of her chicken sandwich and thought about what her friend was suggesting. She liked her job at Marchand Vaughn, but she loved being creative. The centerpieces had been her project over the Christmas holidays, and she'd reveled in choosing the candles and the silk flowers and creating the wreaths and shopping for the shimmery snowflakes. She couldn't deny she'd dreamed about having her own business and spending all day submerged in glittering crystals and beads and rose petals and creating beautiful things that would make people stop and sigh when they saw them. Would a few side jobs really hurt? It would certainly help her recoup her losses on the wedding, along with the sale of her engagement ring, which she planned to look into this afternoon as well.

"All right. I'll bring him a business card. But I'm only doing it for the chance at some spare cash. I'm not looking for a rebound guy."

Audrey shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"I can't do that to someone. Just because Brad screwed me doesn't mean I should screw someone else."

A wicked smile crossed her friend's lips. "So don't call it screwing."

"You're terrible."

"'Sadly Bradley' is terrible. I'm pragmatic." Audrey reached for the check. "When you start making big bucks in the centerpiece business, you can take me out to lunch."

"Deal. After shopping we can swing by my place and make up a card and be back to TF before the Fireman's dinner starts."

Audrey cringed. "I can't. I have a date for dinner."

"Another one? You didn't tell me this. Who with?"

Audrey sighed. "A guy I met at the gym. His name is Jim, believe it or not. He works for the trucking company."

"Where is he taking you?"

"Some French place in Belvedere, then we're going to a movie."

"Call me first thing tomorrow with deets."

"The way things have been going for me, I'll probably be calling you by ten tonight."

"So you had a couple of bad dates. Quit whining." Harper grinned. Audrey's dating adventures of late were legendary. In the past year she'd probably gone on a dozen first dates, each one a bigger disaster than the last.

"Really? You're going there?"

"All I'm saying is, as long as you follow the checklist, you should be fine. One, does he own a goat? Two, do the local cops know his driver's license number by heart? Three, does he live with his mother? Four, is his name Norman? Five, does he carry around X-rays of his intestines?"

"Jim is good on four out of five. I don't know where his mother lives, though."

"Check that and get back to me."

Audrey dropped some cash on the table, and they struggled themselves into their coats for a foray into the icy wind. "Look, if I could meet a guy like Grant Addison, I wouldn't need to go on all these ridiculous dates."

"You did meet a guy like Grant, today in fact. Why don't you ask him out?"

"Because he was drooling over you, blondie. I never felt more like chopped liver than I did in that hall today."

"Oh come on. He was nice to you."

"But he was hot for you. Trust me. I know these things."

"I'm not going to have sex with him."

Audrey pushed open the door of Colette's, the cold air sweeping her comment back at Harper as they left. "Famous last words, my dear."

* * * *

Five hours of staring at contracts and ledgers and spreadsheets had left Grant's vision blurry and his back stiff and hunched. The somewhat timid knock on his office door at ten after four gave him the perfect excuse to drag his butt out of his chair and stretch for a bit.

He opened the door to Harper Shaw's summer-blue eyes and hopeful smile, and all the aches he'd accumulated from a day of grueling paperwork seemed to melt away. "Hi! I wasn't expecting you back." He clamped his jaw shut a second after the thoughtless comment left his mouth.

Her expression froze. "You weren't? I thought—"

"No...yes. I mean, I got the impression you really weren't all that interested in my offer. Your friend seemed more enthusiastic. And I see she's not with you." He was grateful for that. The taller penguin had a sort of mama-bear attitude that made him, frankly, a little nervous.

"Ah, well, Audrey doesn't work on the centerpieces. She just...consults."

Good. "Come in, take off your coat. Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, I'm fine." Harper sashayed past him and gratefully shed her voluminous coat, revealing the figure he'd guiltily been wondering about all day. He tried not to look too closely at her smooth-fitting jeans and the low-cut burgundy sweater that clung nicely to her upper curves. This was a business meeting, not a date, so he didn't dare notice the cool air of his office had an effect on her nipples which were just visible against the stretchy knit of her top.

Fortunately she distracted him by handing him the business card she'd fished out of her purse. The plain white card said HARPER SHAW DESIGNS above a local phone number and an address on the other side of town. The fine print at the center of the card read: Flower arrangements, wreaths, and centerpieces for every occasion.

"Thank you. If anyone asks about the decorations tonight, I'll tell them you made them and that your services are available for other events."

"Sure." She shrugged, seeming unsure of what to do next. "You should know, I work days. This is a side job for me."

"I understand. Our events are mostly on weekends and booked well in advance."

"Okay, then. I guess that's all you need really?"

She smelled a little like the candles from her centerpieces, and he wanted to ask what the fragrance was. Instead he floundered for something to keep her here a moment longer. Poor girl, Elaine's voice said. Jilted bride.

And I'm thinking about hitting on her. Bad form, Grant. "Actually, I had an idea this afternoon. Next weekend, we're having a small expo here. A couple of vendors are coming with cake samples, dresses, etc. How would you like to showcase some of your pieces? It would be a great way to impress potential customers."

"Cakes and dresses? Like wedding cakes and wedding dresses?"

"I'm an idiot. Sorry. Too soon? I should have thought of that. We can stick to the non-wedding events if you prefer."

She squared her shoulders, drawing herself up a little bit taller, though still not quite reaching his chin. "No. I'm perfectly fine. I'd love to make some samples for you."

"Excellent. Elaine has a sheet with the details. We should get some bookings from that, and we can discuss payment. Of course TF will reimburse you for supplies if we book an event, and I can offer you another thirty percent for labor. You can bring everything here for assembly if you need the space."

"Okay. Perfect." Harper offered her hand again. "Thank you, Grant. I appreciate the opportunity."

He took her hand, which was much warmer than it had been earlier. He had to wonder if he'd come up with this plan as a means to improve TF's bottom line, or as a means to make Harper Shaw happy. Despite her gorgeous smile, something in her eyes spoke of the pain she had to be experiencing. "I think this arrangement will be good for both of us," he said before letting go of her hand. He hoped that would prove true and that he hadn't just become Fran all over again, trying to make other people happy at the expense of the business. A pretty pair of...eyes had been the downfall for a lot of men, so he had to make this work for the sake of Taverna Fiora or he'd be the next one out of a job.

# Chapter Three

"Are you seeing him today?" Audrey's question blared out of Harper's cell phone as she hoisted the last bundle of roses into the back of her car. She didn't need to ask who her friend was talking about. Grant had been the topic of their conversations all week long, even taking precedence over Audrey's less than stellar date with Jim from the gym.

"Yes, I'm on my way there now to put the samples together."

"And the expo doesn't start until six?"

"Yes."

"And you'll be there alone with him?" Clearly Audrey was getting at something.

"I doubt that. He's got people in the kitchen and Elaine will be there, so don't count on me straddling him on the dance floor. You really need a life, you know."

"Stop reminding me."

"Don't you have a date tonight?"

"Cancelled it."

"Already? Why?" Harper opened her car and slid into the seat, grateful she'd left the heater on while packing the back with her supplies.

"This was the guy I met at the supermarket."

"Yeah, you said he seemed nice, and he knows how to cook."

"And he's obsessive about it. He wanted to cook me dinner, which is nice, but he called me thirteen times this week to make sure I wasn't allergic to anything."

"That's sweet. What's wrong with that? Clearly he doesn't want you to puff up like a blowfish and have to go to the emergency room between appetizers and dessert. He deserves props for that."

"He asked me if I'm allergic to organ meats."

"Is that code for something?"

"Yes, it's code for cow brains. He was going to make cow brains. I'm not a zombie. I don't eat brains."

"You could have said, yes, you were allergic."

Audrey paused for a second, obviously stumped. "Okay, you're right. I could have. But, to be honest the thought of a guy preparing a brain for me to eat...not romantic."

"They're a delicacy."

"You eat one."

"Sorry, I've got to go seduce Grant."

"Oooh, really?"

"No. I've got to go impress a bunch of brides with my flower-arranging skills and keep myself from telling them to never trust a lying, cheating, cowardly man as long as they live. And I said that with a smile."

Audrey sighed. "Go get 'em."

"Since you're dateless, when I'm done I'll swing by with pizza. How's that?"

"Only if you aren't hanging out with Grant."

"Say it with me, Aud. He's my boss."

"No. Mr. Marchand is your boss. Grant is a hunky hot guy who wants you."

"Bye, Audrey."

Audrey made a smacking kiss sound into the phone. "Bu-bye, good luck! With the centerpieces."

"Don't lie."

"Really, I mean it."

Harper hung up and jammed her phone into her coat pocket. The drive to Taverna Fiora was slow and treacherous thanks to a mid-week ice storm that had left the streets still slick in some patches and gritty with sand and salt in others. Winter in the northeast was a challenge, and keeping her mind on the road was her first priority, not easy when today was the day Brad was due back from their honeymoon trip.

He hadn't called her, and she hadn't called him. His mother had left her a couple of messages which she felt guilty about not returning, but she wasn't sure what to say to her ex-future mother-in-law or what the woman would want to say to her. An apology for her son's despicable behavior would be in order, but what if he'd convinced his mom that somehow Harper was at fault for this disaster? She wasn't in the mood to deal with that kind of drama, so she settled on thinking about her designs and about Grant and his broad shoulders and sexy cologne and those gorgeous blue eyes of his. He's my boss, she'd said to Audrey. But Audrey was right. Her real boss was Mr. Marchand. Grant was more like a business partner, and it was okay—wasn't it?—to admire the physique of a business partner. That was all she planned to do, and she didn't plan to talk about it to anyone, so who would know she secretly thought he was hot?

* * * *

Wild horses couldn't have made Grant admit he'd been staring out his office window waiting for Harper to arrive. She'd called him twice throughout the week with questions about the Expo, and each time the sound of her voice had given him a bit of a rise. In person she was sweet and sunny, but over the phone her voice took on a whispery quality that made the hair on the back of his neck tingle.

When her car pulled up, he grabbed his coat and made his way out to the parking lot, not stopping to acknowledge Elaine's questioning stare.

"Can I offer you a hand?" he asked as Harper swung open the hatchback of her car to reveal boxes of candles, evergreen and grapevine wreaths, bows and ribbons and bundles of fresh roses. The car smelled like a garden, and the scent seemed to waft from her as well as she lifted a box and handed it to him.

"Thanks. I was worried the parking lot would be icy."

"The plow was here early this morning." Grant hoisted the box and glanced at the gray sky. "Hopefully the next snow won't hit for a couple of days."

She hmmed as a reply and set two more boxes on the ground before closing her car. "Good, we can get this all in one trip. Most of the arrangements are done, I just have to spruce up a couple of things, make some bows and put the roses in for the spring samples."

Grant followed her into the lobby, watching her black high-heeled boots hit the pavement. Elaine waved as they passed, and once in the main room, he showed her to the table where she could set up her centerpieces. She set down her boxes and pulled off her coat and hat. Today she wore a sleek, dark-red pant suit. A black velvet band held her hair back, letting it spill across her shoulders in thick waves.

"The other vendors will be here in about an hour or so to set up," he said. "So you have the place to yourself for a bit."

"That's fine. It smells good. What's cooking?"

"Hors d'oeuvres for the guests. I can get you a sample if you're hungry." He winked. "I've been stealing a few—for quality control purposes—all morning."

She grinned. "I'd be happy to help with quality control." The scent of roses intensified as she began unwrapping the flowers and arranging the pieces she'd created. Grant found himself staring dumbly at her as she worked, primping fat ribbons and bows, tucking gorgeous multicolored blooms into wreaths and setting candles into hurricane glasses. She moved with serene grace, occasionally flicking a wavy lock of hair over her shoulder. "Everything okay?" she asked when she noticed him lingering.

"Oh, yeah. I was just...thinking about the lighting in here."

"It seems fine. Do you think I've got enough samples? I tried to cover all the seasons."

"Yeah, they're great. Very...wedding like." All the designs she'd brought looked more romantic, and well, girly, than the ones she'd made for her own wedding. Those had turned out to be a hit, and the Firemen's Association was grateful to TF for the added bonus of gorgeous decorations. He'd already had a few inquiries about future events now that word was getting around the place would be providing extra services. That meant he could justify the deal he'd made with Harper, but the wistful look on her face as she studied the flowers and ribbons gave him pause. "Are you sure you're okay with this? Most of the guests coming today are brides and their mothers. It could get a little...weepy in here."

She let out a half laugh that seemed to end in a bit of a sniffle. "No, I'm totally fine. I'm so fine the part I'm not fine with is how fine I am." She mumbled the last part under her breath.

Rather than walk away as he should have, leaving her to her semi-private rant, Grant eyed her for a moment. The stiff set of her shoulders had him wondering once again if this had been a bad idea. "If you're sure...?"

"What?" She turned around, probably not expecting him to still be hanging around, gaping like some dumbstruck teenager. "Oh. It's nothing. It's just that everyone seems to expect me to be a fragile mess, and I guess I should be. My fiancé walked out on me with some lame-ass excuse about needing to find himself, and the worst part isn't the gossip and people stopping me on the street to ask about the woman he threw me over for—which he didn't, that's a lie by the way—or that I had to walk into every establishment we dealt with for the wedding and pay the bills, and it's not that I still have to send back engagement gifts or pick up the engraved rings. The worst part is that the strongest emotion I feel is relief."

She gestured to the centerpieces she'd lined up on the display table. "All this stuff consumed me for more than a year. Colors, flowers, music, and through all that I never noticed the man I was supposed to preparing to spend the rest of my life with wasn't really into it. I think he proposed because his parents pushed him into it. They wanted him settled with someone to take care of him. In the back of my mind I knew that. I knew I was going to have to be the one making the decisions, keeping everything going all the time, and I accepted it, but you know what? Now I sort of feel like I'm free. And that scares me. What was I thinking making the decision to get married when the thought of not getting married actually doesn't bother me? The real truth is...I..." She covered her mouth with her hand. "I should shut up. You didn't ask for the Dr. Phil version of my life, did you?"

Grant held up his hands. "That's okay. I'm glad..." Was he glad she wasn't going to break down and cry in the middle of his expo, or was he glad she really wasn't pining for the guy who'd walked out on her? "I mean, I guess, then, it worked out for the best."

"I guess it did." She held his gaze for a minute, then a half smile curved her lips. "Let's just forget Harper's little outburst. How about those quality control samples from the kitchen?"

Grateful for the excuse to cut the awkward conversation short, Grant swept his hand toward the kitchen. "Lead the way. I'm starving."

She headed across the dance floor, and he followed her, a little high on the heady scent of flowers that swirled around her as she moved and more than a little distracted by the sway of her hips and her determined stride. He shook himself out of his daydream halfway to the kitchen. Just because Harper wasn't carrying a torch for her fiancé didn't make her fair game. He could certainly admire from afar, but this wasn't the girl to get involved with, he told himself. As much as she might be fine with canceling her wedding, she probably didn't need any complications in her life. And with TF still teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, he didn't either. His job had to come first. Everything else could wait.

# Chapter Four

A few hours later, Harper lowered herself into a seat behind her display table and stretched her tired feet out in front of her. She'd been standing since the Expo began, answering questions about her centerpieces and trying very hard not to scare any dewy-eyed young brides-to-be out of walking down the aisle.

She was proud of her restraint, but now that the last of the customers were wandering toward the coat room, she realized how exhausting the day had been. It felt good to wipe the tight smile off her face and slouch behind a bouquet of blush-colored rose buds.

"Hey, sweetie, are you hungry?" A cheery voice intruded on her moment of self-pity. Harper looked up into a smoky set of mismatched eyes, one aqua blue, the other light brown.

"Hey, aren't you...um...Cassie, right? The cupcake girl." Harper hauled herself out of her chair and reached out to shake the woman's hand. "Don't you deliver snacks to my building?"

The pretty blonde offered Harper a tray of sumptuous-looking mini-cakes. "The accounting firm on Ferry Road, right?"

"That's right. I work on the second floor, but I've seen you unloading your truck sometimes. I love your red velvet cupcakes."

"Thanks. Here, I've got a bunch left. Today's favorite flavor was chocolate raspberry. Those went like crazy. Did you make these arrangements? They're gorgeous."

"Yes, thanks. It's something new I'm trying out." Harper helped herself to a tiny pink-iced cake. After the hors d'oeuvres she and Grant had pilfered from the kitchen earlier, she hadn't had time to think about food, but now that the event was over, she realized her stomach was growling. The little cupcake tasted like heaven.

"Take another, I've got plenty left and I hate to cart them home. The problem with brides is they're all terrified of gaining an ounce so they hardly eat a thing at the taste tests."

Her mouth full of luscious icing, Harper could only nod. How long had she starved herself to fit into the dress she would never wear? She grabbed a second cupcake. "Given time I bet I could eat all of these," she admitted.

Cassie laughed. "So could I. That's why I'm offering them around. The downside of making pastries for a living."

Harper greedily eyed the rest of the cakes on the tray and thought of taking a few over to Audrey's to fuel a nice, healthy pity party. She was about to offer to take the tray off Cassie's hands when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. "Excuse me." She grabbed the phone and checked the caller ID. It was Mrs. Dawson, Bradley's mother.

Harper rolled her eyes and let the call go once again to voice mail. "Sorry about that," she said. "My ex future mother-in-law." Why had she said that? Hadn't she gone off quite enough about her personal life to strangers today?

"Oh! Ah...you're the bride. The one who...I'm sorry."

"Yep. I'm the bride."

"That was rude of me to blurt that out." Cassie's unusual eyes filled with sympathy. "Gosh, a day like today must be hard for you."

Harper shrugged. "Not as bad as you'd imagine. The worst part is I'm starving." She swiped another cupcake. "These are so good."

"You know, I think my cousin Max was going to be your photographer."

"Really? Max Shannon is your cousin?" She thought of the handsome photographer she and Brad had hired. "He was really nice about the cancelation. He told me he'd give me a credit toward...you know, my next wedding."

Cassie put a hand over Harper's. "There'll be one. Don't worry."

Harper wanted to say she wasn't worried, but at that moment Grant appeared, and her concentration drifted. Cassie shifted to follow her gaze, and a slow smile spread across her face. "Maybe sooner than you think?"

"What? No. What?"

"Grant is hot, don't you think?"

Harper tried not to choke on her cupcake. As if Audrey wasn't bad enough, now this woman she barely knew was pushing her toward Grant. "Um...he's okay."

"Your eyes lit up when you saw him. And here he comes. I'll get out of your way."

"No, don't." Cassie's comment had only served to make Harper think about Grant that way, and she didn't want to. "You don't have to rush off...ah, I'd like to know more about the cupcakes. My grandmother's seventieth birthday is coming up and—"

Cassie handed her a pink business card emblazoned with the logo for her business, Buttons and Bows Snacks. "Call me any time. Right now, you have more important things to talk about." She glanced over her shoulder at Grant who had stopped to talk to the last of the exiting customers. "Trust me on this, it's sort of my thing."

"Your thing?"

"People tell me I have a knack for matching people up. Looks like you two don't need any help in that department, though." With a wink, Cassie walked away, taking her cupcakes with her. Harper stared after her, perplexed. Was it written on her face somewhere that she thought Grant was cute? Even so, it didn't matter. Just because she could appreciate a handsome face and a nice physique didn't mean she needed to jump right into another relationship when she wasn't even sure why she'd been in the last one as long as she had.

"Confused?" Grant's question brought her mind back to her body.

"Hmm, no...uh, just thinking about cupcakes."

"Oh, did you try the red velvet? I love those."

Harper laughed. "They're my favorite. So how did it go? Did you book any more weddings?"

He shrugged. "I handed out a lot of registration forms, and we got the contract for the Women's Auxiliary Club in two weeks. They were interested in centerpieces."

Despite her exhaustion, that bit of news gave Harper a slight thrill. A project was exactly what she needed. Her life needed a change, and maybe working with Grant was just the thing. "That's great. Did they give any details?"

"I'll be speaking to the president of the club on Monday. Can I call you Monday night?"

"Sure." Harper crouched down to retrieve the packing boxes she'd stowed under table. She figured the hospital would appreciate her samples, and she could drop by there on her way to pick up a pizza for her and Audrey. When she rose, Grant snatched the boxes from her.

"Why don't you leave these here? It's late and you look beat."

"Do I?"

"I didn't mean that in a bad way." He cringed. "I know I'm beat. You could come by tomorrow to pick these up."

"You'll be here on Sunday?"

"I'm twenty-four seven for a while, so yeah. I was actually wondering if you want to go with me to pick up some burgers or something. I've got to come back here and work most of the evening, but I can take a dinner break."

Harper caught herself gaping and had to force her jaw to close. He was asking her out? She resisted the urge to look around for Cassie. Was the cupcake girl some kind of cupid? "I can't." The words came out before her brain signed off on them. What was she saying, turning down dinner with a hunk like him? "I promised Audrey I'd have pizza with her tonight."

He looked mildly disappointed, but his voice was light and upbeat. "No problem. Thanks for doing this today. I hope things work out with the Auxiliary Club."

"Me too." Harper dropped her gaze. She didn't dare tell Audrey she'd turned Grant down, but really, was it right to be dating a week after the day she was supposed to have been married? That didn't seem right to her. How could she justify it when technically, despite the fact that her engagement ring was in a box under her bed, she hadn't actually broken up with Brad officially? "I'll stop by tomorrow to pick these up."

"Sure. I'll see you then."

Dejected, she grabbed her coat. A voice in her head counted down the steps as she crossed the dance floor and pulled on her scarf and hat. There was still time to change her mind, to run back and tell him dinner sounded like a great idea. Even though her mind screamed to stop, her feet kept going. As she reached the lobby, the lights in the ballroom went out and she heard the door to Grant's office close.

Somehow, missing this opportunity stung a little more than missing her own wedding had.

* * * *

"Grant, you're an idiot." His reflection in the mirror in TF's men's room glared at him with obvious contempt. He'd just acted like a drooling adolescent, asking Harper to get burgers with him. Was he out of his mind?

Elaine's voice played in his head again. The poor girl.

She'd looked utterly stunned when he'd suggested dinner. And rightly so. She should have been a married woman by now. She was probably trying to get her life back together, and he was practically stalking her. Not only had he found it difficult to tear his eyes away from her all day, he'd stopped her from packing up her centerpiece samples just so he'd have an excuse to see her again tomorrow.

He had to get control of himself. He hadn't come to TF to find a girlfriend. He was here to save a business, and that's what he had to concentrate on. But damn, it was going to be much more difficult to keep his mind on work if Harper was around.

# Chapter Five

Harper had no idea how she'd managed not to tell Audrey about Grant's impromptu dinner invitation, but she had. She felt better about her decision to turn him down the next morning as she sat at the breakfast table listening to the messages left by Brad's mother.

Mrs. Dawson didn't sound angry over the phone, but she was vague. In each of the messages she'd left, she'd just asked Harper to call her and left a number. Now she had something else to feel guilty about, but she still wasn't sure what she would say to Brad's mother.

He would be back from Tahiti now, assuming he hadn't changed the flight reservations again. Part of her wanted to call him first, but what would she say? How was the honeymoon? She wanted him to know she'd decided there would be no reconciliation, even if he asked for one. But he hadn't asked, so it was probably better not to say a word until he did. Even if it killed her, she'd ignore him until he came to her.

She dressed quickly in a pair of gray sweats and a Disney sweatshirt she'd had since college, pulled her hair back in a pony tail and hauled on her parka. The day was brilliantly sunny and bitterly cold. The ride over to Taverna Fiora to pick up her samples would clear her head and give her a break from her constant analyzing. She was so tired of rehashing her arguments with Brad in her head, some fresh air, no matter how cold, would do her good.

She opened her front door to find Mrs. Dawson just about to knock. "Oh, Harper, I'm so glad I caught you."

"Uh...Hi." Harper stepped back to allow the woman inside. Her first instinct was to apologize for not returning her calls, but she held her tongue.

"Are you on your way out—well, obviously, you've got your coat on. I won't be long. I'm very sorry to intrude, but I've been calling."

"I know, I'm..."

"Harper." Mrs. Dawson grabbed Harper's gloved hands in her own. "I wish I knew what to say to you about what happened. I had no idea what Bradley was thinking."

Harper offered a dry laugh. "Well, you and me both."

"I'm sure you're angry with him, and I don't blame you."

Harper narrowed her eyes. The poor woman had no idea how angry she was. "Did he send you here?"

"No. He just got back yesterday evening."

"Well, I hope he had a nice flight." Harper was past feeling guilty about sounding sarcastic or annoyed.

"If it were up to me, I'd have sent him to the moon. I honestly don't know what got into that boy, but I wanted you to know that his father and I sat him down last night and had a long talk with him. We were so disappointed by what happened."

What he did, you mean, Harper thought. Saying "what happened" made it sound like the whole thing was some kind of accidental occurrence. She bit her tongue. "What did he say?" Not that she cared.

"He's still very confused." Mrs. Dawson's tone made Harper think she was talking about someone who'd been hit in the head. She sounded as if Bradley was sick in some way and needed time to recover from something. "He's working through his emotions."

"His emotions are what exactly?"

"Well, like I said, he's confused, but he knows one thing. He loves you very much and he wants to get married."

Harper let out a sound that surprised her with its vehemence. It was half laugh, half growl. Mrs. Dawson's eyes rounded. "He had his chance to get married. And he blew it."

"I know you're upset, and I don't blame you. I just wanted to tell you that Mr. Dawson and I are on your side. We're very committed to seeing the two of you work this out."

Harper took a calming breath and patted Mrs. Dawson's hands. She had two choices here. She could rant or she could repress. Contrary to everything her whirling mind wanted her to do, she chose to repress. "I appreciate that. I really do, but I think Brad would have to be committed to this. I don't want to turn you into a middleman here, so I won't say anything other than, Brad knows where to find me if he wants to talk. When he's not confused anymore, he should call me."

"Well, I was hoping maybe you would go to see him. He feels terrible about what happened, and maybe if you..."

"No, Mrs. Dawson. I'm sorry. I'm not going to see him. He knows where I live and he knows my numbers."

"But don't you want to work this all out?"

Harper hated to be rude, especially since Brad's mother had always been very kind to her, but this conversation was getting a bit surreal. She opened the front door, a not-so-subtle hint for Mrs. Dawson to leave. "As far as I'm concerned, it is worked out. The wedding is off, the engagement is over, the relationship is done. If Brad wants to change that, like I said, he knows where to find me."

For a moment Mrs. Dawson seemed stunned by Harper's vehemence, then her shoulders slumped and she headed for the porch. "I hope you'll reconsider. I think if you just—"

"No. I'm done being the one to just do anything. It's Bradley's move."

Mrs. Dawson nodded and shuffled out onto the porch. "I am sorry, Harper. I do feel terrible about what happened."

Once again, Harper cut herself off before she said what she really wanted to say. Yelling at Brad's mother wouldn't do any good. "Thank you. I appreciate you coming over to talk to me."

The woman left, and Harper took a moment took a moment to breathe deeply as she watched her pull away. After a few minutes her cheeks were tight from the cold, but her head was clear.

So she'd turned down dinner last night. Maybe Grant was available for lunch.

* * * *

"I'd love to book TF for the party, but unless we start showing some real profits, the place is going to be on the chopping block by March." Grant hated to admit this, but as much as he believed he could turn things around financially for the catering hall, he didn't want to disappoint his friends.

Through the phone, Owen DeWitt sighed. "I don't think anybody's going to care where we have it. All that really matters is, James will be back. Two years in the Middle East is a damn long time. He won't care if we have his welcome home party in my garage as long as he gets to see everyone."

"So it's definite, his tour will be up at the end of November?" Grant hadn't seen his college roommate in more than five years, and his phone calls and letters home had gotten fewer and farther between since his assignment to a war zone. After a year of academics, James had joined the army, and he'd been all over the world in the last few years, culminating in a stint in Iraq. Having him finally home would be great, even if it was still almost a year away.

"Well, you know the army, but supposedly he has it in writing. I figure we've got plenty of time to put together something awesome."

"Do me a favor, you see his parents once in a while, right? Ask them what they'd like to do, and I'll pencil it in any day they want. If the place ends up getting sold, I'll find a new place to hold the party."

A soft knock on Grant's office door interrupted him. "Hold on, come in!"

Harper entered, looking adorable in a baggy sweatshirt, her hair in a girlish ponytail. Grant broke into a wide grin. "I've got to go, Owen. Someone's here. Call me with a date, and we'll make it work."

"Will do, man. Thanks." Owen hung up, and Grant rose from his desk, still grinning.

"You look happy," Harper said. "You have a date?" She winked.

Grant laughed. "I wish. No, that was my friend Owen. He just told me our friend James is coming home from the army at the end of the year. We want to plan a welcome home party. I know it's early yet, but he's been gone a long time. We miss him."

"That's awesome. He's lucky to have a couple of friends like you."

"We're lucky. James is a great guy." Grant fished his keys out of his pocket. "I guess you're here for your samples."

Harper sighed as she followed him out of the office and down the darkened hall toward the ball room. "I'm going to take them to the hospital. If they don't need them for the lobby, Audrey can find patients who need some cheering up."

"She works at the hospital?"

"She's a nurse."

"What do you do? I mean, besides flowers."

"I work in the exciting field of payroll in an accounting firm."

"You don't sound all at excited about it." Grant moved to open the ballroom door, but a sound caught his attention. He couldn't quite place it.

"It's fine. The company is nice, and I like my boss, but...you know. It's paperwork all day. I like to get out now and—"

"Shhh." Grant held up a hand. The sound was definitely out of place. It seemed to echo in the hallway, and he couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry, I hear something. Do you hear that?"

She tilted her head and listened too. After a moment, she shrugged. "What am I supposed to be hearing?"

Grant turned in a circle. "It sounds like water running, but I'm the only one here this morning. Nothing should be on."

"The kitchen? Maybe someone left a sink on?" She met his gaze for a second, then he turned to head for the kitchen, her samples forgotten.

"Come on." The sound got louder as they approached the kitchen, and by now Grant had a sinking feeling. Something wasn't right. He hit the lights to illuminate TF's gleaming stainless steel kitchen. A quick check of all the sinks turned up nothing, but the sound of running water was definitely louder. It led him to the basement access door. "Uh-oh."

Harper was right behind him. "Sounds like a leak."

He groaned. "Worse. It sounds like a broken pipe." He pulled the door open, and the unmistakable whoosh of gushing water reached them.

"Uh-oh," Harper echoed.

"Stay up here. I'm going to go check it out." He headed down the basement stairs, flicking on the light switch as he went. The dim overhead bulb didn't illuminate much, but he could clearly see water on the basement floor. He cursed under his breath. Just what the place needed, water damage and a huge plumbing bill. The sound seemed to be coming from the far end of the basement, so he turned to head that way when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He'd taken three steps when a pop sounded over his head and ice cold water sprayed all over him.

Harper gasped at Grant's shocked yell from below. Now the sound of rushing water was even louder, and he was swearing up a storm. She raced down the stairs. "Are you okay? What happened?" Water from an overhead pipe hit her immediately, almost causing her to lose her balance on the stairs. She gasped at the cold and gripped the now-slippery banister to stop herself from careening into Grant who was making his way up. She almost landed in his arms.

"Two broken pipes, it looks like. They must have cracked during the deep freeze, and now that they warmed up a little—poosh!"

"You're soaked."

"No kidding. So are you. Come on, let's get upstairs. There's a wrench in a tool box in the supply closet. I'm going to see if I can shut off the main valve. I can't do it with my bare hands. Then I've got to call a plumber."

Harper turned on the wet step but lost her footing and slipped. Grant's caught her ass in both hands to steady her. She raised a brow but said nothing.

"Easy there. This old wood is slick." He hoisted her back up, but his hand didn't leave the small of her back. Together they climbed up the rest of the staircase.

Back in the kitchen, she eyed him. His cotton button-down shirt was plastered to his body, showing off some well-defined pecs beneath the white T-shirt he wore underneath. His brown hair was dark and spiky, and water dripped off his long lashes. She must have been gaping at him because he looked confused.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine." She shivered a little—not necessarily from the dousing of icy water, though. "You?"

He swiped the back of his hand across his brow, revealing a smudge of red on his palm. "Yeah. Just wet and mad."

"No, you're not okay. Look." Harper grabbed his hand. The cut on his palm looked shallow, but it was still bleeding.

"Damn, I must have done that trying to turn the shut-off valve. It's rusted open."

"When was your last tetanus shot?" She grabbed a towel from the nearby stack and wrapped his hand.

He resisted just a bit as she tugged him toward the nearest sink. "I thought your friend Audrey was the nurse."

"Where do you think I learned first aid? We need to clean this."

"I need to call the plumber and get that valve shut before the whole basement floods."

"Here." She handed him her cell phone. "Dial with your good hand. My uncle's a plumber. I'll give you the number while I wash your hand. You must have a first-aid kit around here somewhere."

"Supply closet, over there."

She turned on warm water and thrust his hand under the faucet, then headed for the narrow closet next to the cellar door. Fortunately the first-aid kit was right up front. She grabbed it and opened it up on the counter. "Seven one six five five five one three four oh. His name is Mel, mention my name."

"TF has a plumber," he said, gingerly probing the cut. He'd set her phone down.

"Well, obviously not a good one, right? Plus I can probably get you a discount, being as I sort of work for you."

"You're amazing. You're a magician with flowers, and you know first aid and a good plumber."

Harper brought antiseptic and a thick bandage over to the sink. She shut off the water and patted Grant's palm dry with a fresh towel. "You should see me amortize tax deductions. I'm incredible."

"Yes, you are." He met her gaze, and she stilled. His eyes seemed to have gotten a little darker blue, a little deeper, as her fingers caressed his palm. Her wet skin tingled, and her heart beat a little faster. She grabbed the antiseptic to distract herself from the thought of going up on her tip toes to kiss him. This was all wrong. All wrong entirely.

"Ow!" The moment ended with Grant moaning about the stinging antiseptic she poured into his palm.

"Sorry. It'll stop hurting in a minute." She carefully wrapped his palm with the bandage and secured it with a couple of strips of tape. "There. Now, that tetanus shot?"

"Last year. I'm covered."

"Good. We don't want you getting lockjaw."

"Does anyone really get that?"

"I'll ask Audrey. Here." She handed him her phone back. "Plumber."

"Why don't you call? I'm going back down with the wrench. I can't let it keep running like that." He gave her back the phone and headed for the closet. A second later, a huge wrench slung over his damp shoulder, he headed back downstairs.

Harper stared after him for a moment. She thought he looked good in his suit and tie, but like this, all wet and manly, injured, and tossing around a huge tool—he was beyond hot. She shook off the unprecedented wave of lust and concentrated on calling her uncle Mel. Now wasn't the time to get all melty over the guy, but she wasn't going to rule out the possibility of doing a little melting later on.

# Chapter Six

"You didn't have to stay you know." Grant set a cup of coffee on the counter in front of Harper. Her uncle, Mel Shaw, had just left after a grueling afternoon replacing two broken pipes, which thanks to her, weren't going to cost TF a ridiculous amount of money.

The rental of the industrial fans they'd need to dry out the basement was another story, though, and that meant he'd be back at the office first thing in the morning, making arrangements to repair or replace everything else in the basement that had gotten wet.

She breathed in the aromatic steam coming from her cup and smiled, closing her eyes. "I didn't mind. Plus I got free lunch out of the deal." She flipped closed the pizza box that sat between them on his desk. "How's your hand?"

He glanced at the bandage, which hadn't faired very well during his second bout with the rusted shut-off valve. It needed to be changed, and he wanted to ask her to do it—not because he didn't know his way around a first-aid kit, but because he'd enjoyed having her soft hands on his skin and seeing the concern in her eyes. "It could use a little second aid, I guess."

"I'll get the kit."

"You don't have to," he said, but he hoped she would.

"Audrey always says follow-up is vitally important to good medical care. Come on."

"Yes, nurse." He followed her happily out of the office and back to the kitchen. While she cleaned his cut and rebandaged it, he looked her over. Her heavy sweatshirt was still damp, as were his clothes. Though it was warm in the building, the temperature outside had plummeted again. "You know, you shouldn't go out in these clothes. You're going to freeze."

She plucked at her shirt. "My coat's dry. I'll be fine."

"But your pants are wet." He recalled the feel of her round bottom in his hands when he caught her on the stairs. Her sweats fit nice and snug, but the thick material wasn't going to dry any faster than her shirt."

"You don't have a clothes dryer here, do you?"

"No, but I do have a solution."

She eyed him sidelong. "Oh?"

"Upstairs there may be a couple of jumpsuits the janitor uses for cleaning. They're not pretty, but they're dry."

"A janitor's jumpsuit. Yay." Her enthusiasm was underwhelming.

"Do you want to get into your coat and your car in damp clothes?"

She pursed her lips. "Not really."

"Come on."

He led her up the winding stairs to the second floor. To the left lay the bridal suite where wedding parties usually spent happy hour before making their grand entrance down the staircase to greet their guests. He steered Harper away from this plush salon toward a smaller room the employees used for getting changed. The place wasn't fancy. It had a couple of chairs and metal lockers, a small bathroom, and hanging racks where the wait staff hung their uniforms.

He pulled two oversized gray jumpsuits out of the closet and handed her one. The embroidered letters RAY adorned the left breast pocket of each suit.

"You can change in there." He nodded toward the bathroom.

She eyed him skeptically for a second, but went in. Her startled yell a second later sent him running to the door.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"Oh, God. I just saw myself in the mirror. You didn't tell me I look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon."

He stifled a laugh. Was she kidding? She was adorable with her hair slightly mussed and tendrils hanging out of her ponytail. Her smudged mascara made her eyes look big and smoky. "You look fine."

"I think your wound is affecting your brain." After a few interesting grunts and groans she emerged from the bathroom, her damp clothes thrown over one arm. She seemed to be swimming in Ray's jumpsuit, but she'd managed to repair her hair and her makeup, he imagined with nothing more than spit and toilet paper. "You must never speak of this."

He couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Are you kidding? I should put this on YouTube. You look great!"

"I feel like an Oompa Loompa."

"Well, the jumpsuits are meant to go over other clothes."

"And they're stiff and scratchy." She looked down her front, probably without realizing what she was doing. The jumpsuits weren't the only things that were stiff.

Grant swallowed. "Lose something?"

"I can see all the way to the floor."

He longed for a look but held himself back. "I'm going to go change. Be right out." Peeling off his wet shirt and jeans wasn't easy, but he managed. It felt good to put on something dry that didn't stick to him. When he emerged from the bathroom, Harper was gone. "Hey? Where'd you go?" Had she left? "Hey, I didn't mean it about YouTube."

"I'm here."

He followed her voice across the hall to the bridal suite. She was standing in the doorway leaning on the jamb, her arms crossed over her chest. "This is a pretty room," she said wistfully.

The velvet couches, gauzy curtains, and huge rustic paintings made the place look like Marie Antoinette's bedroom. Grant didn't understand the appeal, but the expression in Harper's eyes made him realize it wasn't the décor that had her misty-eyed.

"For what it's worth, I think he's an idiot."

She sniffled a little, but he bet wild horses couldn't make her admit she'd teared up. "Thank you." She turned around and met his gaze. Her eyes shimmered like jewels. "He came back from Tahiti yesterday. Didn't even call me."

Bastard. Grant didn't voice his opinion, but he wanted to. More than that he wanted to kiss Harper and let her know a man who walked out on the woman he was about to marry wasn't a man at all. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't know what I would say to him that I haven't said already. Don't feel sorry for me. I'm okay. I think I'm better off."

"I know you are." She was only inches from him, so close he could count her lashes and the few freckles on the bridge of her nose. "He's the one who lost out."

It happened quickly and not entirely without conscious thought on his part. Grant went from thinking about kissing her to doing it in a split second. She melted into his arms as he pressed her back against the door frame and caressed her warm lips with his. Beneath the voluminous borrowed jumpsuit, her body was taut but curvy. Her softness hid a rigid frame that told him she wasn't quite sure she should be letting him put his arms around her, letting him slip his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like mint and fresh air, and despite the dousing from the broken pipe, her hair smelled like roses.

She responded with a controlled eagerness that surprised him. She surged against him, and her hands found their way to his hair, to the back of his neck where she twirled the fine hairs at his nape, sending a shiver down his spine that resulted in an immediate reaction in his groin. He let his own hands travel down her sides to grasp her waist, to caress her ass. She moaned, and he dove deeper, wanting more. He'd been thinking about this for a week, and now his mind went blank. All he could do was whisper, "I want you," and those three little words broke the spell of the bridal suite.

She pulled back and slipped out of his arms, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. "Wow."

Grant backed up. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I—"

"I'm a jerk. You don't need this right now."

"I probably don't, but—maybe we, maybe I should go."

"I...yeah. Okay. I'll walk you out."

"I'm—I never got my samples."

"We'll get them now."

"Don't worry about them. I need to..."

"Sure."

"Call me."

"Okay."

"About the auxiliary dinner."

"Right. I will."

She was halfway down the stairs, and Grant just stood there, staring after her, wishing he could take back the last five minutes at the same time he wished he could relive them.

Elaine's voice played in his head as he heard the lobby door open and close. Poor girl.

* * * *

"This is all your fault." Harper put her slippered feet up on Audrey's coffee table and glared at the marshmallows drifting lazily in her hot cocoa.

"My fault? I didn't tell you to strip down and kiss Grant. Though not for lacking of thinking it." Audrey grinned over her own mug. Her glee at Harper's description of the searing kiss she'd shared with Grant only served to make Harper feel worse about it.

"No, you got me thinking how cute he was and put the bug in my ear that I don't have to feel guilty about cheating on Brad."

"You're not cheating on Brad. 'Bad Brad' left you. Don't forget that. There is no shame in you moving on, at warp speed."

"Yes, there is. I mean, how will it look if I—"

"Oh, no." Audrey sat forward and plunked her mug on the table. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Worry about what people are going to think or say. We've been over this. You let other people's opinions control you too much. Who cares if you start dating someone a week after Brad bailed on your wedding? The wedding police are not taking notes."

"Maybe not, but everyone else is. Uncle Mel was there—"

"You kissed him in front of your uncle?"

"No, he'd left, but he was there, fixing the pipes, and he kept looking at me like someone had died. I actually felt bad calling him."

"You felt bad about calling your uncle the plumber, to come and do plumbing for which he got paid? You lost me."

"I felt bad, like he was doing me a favor because he felt sorry for me. Everyone feels sorry for me."

"They should. You got dumped."

Harper cringed. "Thanks."

"You know what I mean, and you did."

"People treat me like Brad died."

Audrey grinned wickedly. "We can arrange that."

"Stop."

"Harper, darling, you have to stop trying to read everyone's mind. I'm sure Uncle Mel does feel bad for you. Everyone does. I don't get why that makes you feel guilty. You're not taking anything from anyone. You still deserve their sympathy even if you don't feel as bad as they think you feel."

"I didn't know you were a psychiatric nurse."

"I might as well be." Audrey picked up her mug again and sipped. "Grant is hot. He told you he wants you."

Harper nodded. His words had oozed into her brain like warm honey. His voice had been low and sexy, and she'd wanted so badly to say she wanted him too, but Mrs. Dawson's face had popped into her head at that very moment, and something in the back of her brain told her she had no business with another man's big strong hands on her ass until she had put things to bed with Bradley. They hadn't officially broken up. They hadn't spoken since that desperate phone call the night of the rehearsal dinner. She didn't, for a second, believe she owed him anything, but she owed it to herself to end one relationship before she even dared to think about getting into another. "I think I need to slow down and deal with one thing at a time."

"Start with Grant."

"I can't do that. If something is meant to happen between us, it'll wait until things have settled down a bit and I know what I'm doing. Right now I'm still in free fall. I know it's over with Brad, and I'm strangely okay with that, but I don't think I'm ready for anything else."

"I wish I could say the same. I'm ready for everything else. If there was even one halfway normal guy out there, I'd be all over that."

"I think you're becoming too picky." Harper relaxed back into the cushions of Audrey's couch, relieved the focus was off of her and Grant for the moment.

"Don't go there."

"Come on. What was so wrong with Jim from the Gym?"

"His gun collection freaked me out."

"A lot of men go hunting."

"They were Nerf guns."

Harper fought not to laugh into her cocoa. "Commendable. He can't hurt anyone with a Nerf gun."

"He's twenty-seven. Still plays with Nerf guns."

"He's young at heart?"

"Maybe I'm not. I'm an old fogey at heart. I want to date a grown-up who doesn't cook brains or name goats or have weird sexual hang-ups."

"Good luck."

"Tell me about it."

"Oh, wait a second. I have an idea."

"Don't say you're giving me Grant, because I might just take you up on it, and I know you'd regret it."

"No." Harper set her mug down and reached for her purse where she still carried Cassie Hall's business card. "Remember I told you I ran into the cupcake girl at the expo?"

"Cassie something?"

"Yeah." Harper pulled out the pretty pink business card. "She told me she does matchmaking on the side."

Audrey burst out laughing. "Are you kidding?"

"No, that's what she said. She matches couples up. Maybe she can find you someone normal."

"I thought matchmakers were all old mystical women who read your tea leaves and speak in heavy accents."

Harper tossed the card at Audrey. "What could it hurt?"

Audrey glanced at the card then tossed it on the table. "I don't think I'm desperate enough for a matchmaker yet."

"I'll call her for you."

"Don't you dare! Now let's get back to talking about you and Grant."

"There is no me and Grant."

Audrey winked. "Not yet."

# Chapter Seven

Grant dialed Harper's cell number slowly, pausing between each number to consider exactly what he was going to say to her. The call was official business. Mrs. Moriarty, President of the Women's Auxiliary Club, wanted to meet with her to discuss centerpieces and gift basket designs for the annual dinner, so he had a good excuse. He just couldn't decide if he should lead with congratulations for getting the design contract or an apology for his clumsy attempt at an unwelcome pass the other night.

She had told him to call her, so he really didn't expect her to hang up on him. He would have given anything to erase the three stupid little words he'd said to her. I want you. He hadn't been lying. In that moment, with her in his arms, he'd wanted nothing more than to carry her to the velvet couch in the bridal suite and peel off that hideous janitor's jumpsuit. The thought of her naked beneath the rough material had him hard even now, and that made him stop dialing altogether. He hung up and took a deep breath. "This is business. Just business."

He dialed again, faster this time. It was just after noon, so he expected she'd be on her lunch hour from her regular job. He didn't want to disturb her at work and add yet another infraction to his growing list. He really wouldn't blame her if she bailed on their little partnership. He'd been totally out of line the other night.

He'd just convinced himself to hang up again when she answered. Her cheery hello made him wonder if she'd checked the caller ID. Maybe she sounded so chipper because she didn't know it was him.

"Hi, Harper? It's Grant. I'm sorry to bother you if you're at work."

"It's all right. I'm just heading to my car for lunch. What's up?"

Me. He bit his tongue before that confession came out. "Are you available tomorrow evening?" Ugh, that wasn't how he wanted to lead. He should have mentioned Mrs. Moriarty.

"Um...I guess so. Why?"

"The President would like to meet with you."

"The President? Of the United States?" She laughed.

"Sorry—of the Women's Auxiliary Club. I'm distracted today. Too much paperwork." Lie, lie, lie. You bastard, stop lying. "She would like to talk to you about ordering decorations for their event at the end of the month."

"Oh, that's great. Sure, I can come by tomorrow. I get out of work at five. What time is good?"

"How about seven?"

"Sure. Should I bring anything? More samples?"

"If you have some photographs of your work, that would be great."

"I'll put something together, thanks. Oh, does Ray need his jumpsuit back?"

Grant suppressed a smirk. Damn that jumpsuit. "He can wait until tomorrow."

"Good. I'll bring it then."

He ignored the million suggestive remarks floating through his suddenly very horny brain and forced his voice to a normal octave. "Thanks. I'll see you then."

She hung up, and Grant stared at the phone for a second. He had to stop thinking about kissing Harper again and get over this crush he had before he scared her away and he was left with orders for centerpieces he couldn't fill.

* * * *

"Would you like me to leave the door open so you can make a quick getaway?" Harper's sarcastic inquiry came out before she could stop herself, but she refused to feel guilty. When Brad called her only moments after she arrived home from work that evening, she decided that, while putting him off for a while might serve him right, she needed to get their final conversation over and done with.

He stepped over the threshold of her front door, looking indecently tan. At least he had dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were slumped, much the way his mother's had been when she'd left Harper's place Sunday morning. "I guess I deserve that."

"You do, but I'm sorry anyway. I don't want this to be a fight, so I'll do my best not to say exactly what I'm thinking." She closed the door reluctantly behind him and crossed her arms over her chest. After all the hours she'd spent rehearsing what she would say to him face-to-face, she found herself at a loss. Ever since Grant had called her at noon, thoughts about how she would deal with their illicit kiss had consumed her, crowding Bradley right out of her brain.

She had to admit, she liked the feeling.

"I know saying I'm sorry isn't going to make a difference." Brad settled himself on her couch in his usual spot. For someone who had been a fixture in her life for two years, he looked out of place. His boy-next-door good looks seemed to have faded, his hair didn't seem as glossy, and his physique seemed lacking in comparison to Grant's. Harper tried not to dwell on the comparisons and instead curled up in the chair opposite him, leaving her usual spot on the cushion next to him conspicuously empty.

"Don't waste time on apologies, then. All I really want to know is, if you were having second thoughts, why did you wait until the night of the rehearsal dinner to do something about them, and why didn't you talk to me in person instead on the phone from the airport? And when can I expect a check to reimburse me for the trip to Tahiti I never got to take?"

Brad sighed. He laced his fingers together in front of him and bowed his head. "I will pay you back. I promise. And the second thoughts hit me that day. It wasn't like I was thinking about it for weeks. It was spur of the moment. I lost it, and I felt like I had to get away from everyone. My parents especially. I felt like the wedding was more for them than for us."

"No kidding."

"If you felt that way, why didn't you say anything?"

Harper leaned back in her chair. "I didn't think it would matter after the wedding. Your mom doesn't have any daughters, so this was a big thing for her. I didn't mind her being involved. In fact it took some of the pressure off me. Maybe that's why I wasn't as freaked out as most brides would have been."

Brad glanced up quickly, apparently surprised by her confession. "You weren't?"

"Look, this whole thing was a train wreck, but we need to put it behind us. My concern right now is getting the balance in my checking account back up to normal."

"So you want money."

"Well, I did pay off the caterers, the photographer, the florist, and the DJ. The only thing I haven't done was go pick up the rings. You can handle that." Harper chose to ignore the flash of annoyance she saw in his eyes.

"Do you think we should go see a counselor? My mother suggested someone she knows."

Harper rose. "No. I don't. I'm sorry, but I don't think there's much point in trying to fix this, do you?"

Bradley stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am. Look me in the eye and tell me you want to get married."

He did. "I do. Of course I do. I love you."

Harper's stomach sank. She'd actually been hoping he would tell her he'd met someone else, just like all the rumors floating around town said. Then her guilt over Grant might just fade away. "If you love me, then what were the second thoughts about? A week ago you didn't want to get married, you didn't even want to be in the same country as me. What changed?"

"I thought everything through, and I realized I was an idiot. We need some time, but we can work everything out."

He looked so sincere, so hurt. For a split second Harper wondered if it was just her wounded pride that made her want to kick him out in the snow. Could she really have fallen out of love with Brad in the space of a week? Or had it taken longer than that? If he hadn't bailed on the wedding, would she have?

"Brad, I think it's all worked out. You weren't ready to get married. I'm not ready. And I have a feeling when we both are ready, it won't be with each other."

"What? Where did all this come from? On the phone you were begging me. You said you'd do anything to work it out."

"Yeah, at the time, I would have done anything to get you to the rehearsal dinner so I didn't have to face your family and my family and our friends and tell them all you were gone. The humiliation almost killed me. And you know what, after the embarrassment went away, you know what was left?"

He just stared at her as if she'd shot him in the heart. "What?"

"Relief."

Brad jumped off the couch, his hands in the air. "So you're glad I left? Is that what you're saying?"

"I'm not glad you stole my honeymoon out from under me. That was childish and just plain rotten. But I'm glad we didn't get married. It wasn't right, and it wouldn't have worked out."

"I don't believe you."

Harper barked a laugh. "What part don't you believe? I'm not playing hard to get. I'm done. This is over."

"I mean, I don't believe you could be like this. I thought you loved me."

"Well, I thought I did too. I guess I was wrong." The words even hurt Harper to say. She'd always believed love was forever. She understood some relationships didn't work out, but she'd always deep down believed when two people were in love, some of that remained between them, always. Now, looking at Brad, she realized that wasn't true. She cared about him still, and she knew his problems with her stemmed from his parents involving themselves too much in every aspect of his life. He didn't know what he really wanted because maybe he was finally realizing he'd only ever had what they wanted for him. She was part of that. They'd started dating, and his parents had approved of her and pushed him into keeping the relationship going and taking it to the next level, engagement and finally marriage. She wondered if anything that had gone on between them was really because Brad wanted it, or had it all been because his parents had convinced him it was the right choice?

Brad glared at her, then whirled around and headed for the door. "I get it. You're punishing me for what happened."

There was that phrase again. What happened—as though he hadn't had any control over it.

"I'm not punishing you. I'm telling you the truth so we can stop wasting our time with a relationship that can't be fixed."

Brad flung the door open. "You think it can't be fixed, then fine. We won't fix it."

"We can't fix it."

"Fine." He left, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows.

Harper resisted the urge to curse at him as much as she wanted to. He wouldn't have been able to hear her anyway over the roar of his car engine as he blasted out of her driveway. She hoped he wouldn't drive recklessly, and that made her feel guilty. She did still care about him, and as much as he'd hurt her, he'd done her a favor too. She couldn't stand to see him get hurt, so she picked up her phone and dialed his mother. Mrs. Dawson was thrilled to hear from her at first, less so when Harper explained the state Brad had been in when he left. She agreed to send her husband out to look for him and make sure he got home safely on the icy roads and before she hung up she said something that made Harper's heart break all over again.

"He really does love you, Harper. He's been a mess since he came home, and he was so afraid you would hate him. I know the two of you will work it out, it just takes time."

Harper hung up and threw herself on the couch. Tears stung her eyes, not for ending her relationship with Brad, but because she couldn't figure out when it had gone bad. It hadn't been just two weeks ago that everything fell apart. If she couldn't figure out a relationship wasn't working, how would she ever be able to tell for sure if one was?

# Chapter Eight

"I scared him off." Harper sighed and sank into the smooth cushions of the faux leather booth at Colette's.

Across from her, Audrey sipped a piña colada. "I don't believe that."

"No, really. I went last night to meet with him and Mrs. Moriarty from the Women's Auxiliary Club, and I don't think he glanced in my direction the whole time. When we were done he shook my hand and said good night."

"He's giving you space."

Harper glared at Audrey. Her friend had become so nonchalant about men and dating. It was easy for Audrey. She was surrounded by good-looking men, between the interns at the hospital, the EMTs who were mostly male, the firemen and the police officers who had plenty of occasions to show up in the emergency room, she met new guys all the time. Granted she hadn't found one in the past twelve months who was worth a second date, but maybe she was becoming jaded because she had too much of a selection to choose from.

Harper had only dated a couple of guys before Brad, a high school boyfriend, a college boyfriend, then a fiancé. That was three men, not counting Grant, in ten years. "I don't want space."

"So go over there and tell him that."

"That's easy for you to say. And besides, what will he—"

"Don't say think."

"Think."

Audrey growled. "He's a guy. He's not going to analyze your motives, trust me. They don't do that. If you go to his office and plant a big wet one on him, he won't be wondering why, he'll just be kissing you back."

Harper wanted to believe that, but after the very professional meeting she'd had with Grant and Mrs. Moriarty, she was certain he'd lost interest in her. The kiss, the husky whisper, must have been just a spur of the moment thing that he'd wisely reconsidered.

Why had she rushed off like a frightened kitten that night? Now she had two weeks to get over him before the she had to see him again to deliver the decorations for the Auxiliary dinner, so seeing him again wouldn't leave her knees weak and her thoughts in a jumble. It was a miracle she could even remember the details she'd discussed with the Auxiliary Club President when all she'd thought about during the meeting was Grant's hands on her ass and his breathless whisper in her ear. "I want you."

Now he didn't anymore.

"What if you're wrong, and I make a complete fool of myself?"

"Besides him, who will know?"

"Well, me. And him. Isn't that enough?"

"Harper, Harper, Harper." Audrey set down her drink. "You are never going to be happy until you stop worrying about how everything you do looks on the outside. Be spontaneous. If it backfires, it backfires. Apologize and walk away with your chin up."

Harper sighed. Hadn't she used Brad's reliance on what his parents thought as an excuse to end their relationship? Why was she worried about strangers' opinions? She'd dealt with all the sympathetic looks, the commiserating phone calls from her family, even some of the unkind whispers she'd heard around town from people speculating on why the wedding really hadn't happened. She'd let it all slide, ignored the hurt, and carried on.

"All right. I go talk to him."

Audrey rolled her eyes. "Don't talk."

"But I need to explain to him—"

"Don't explain. Grab him, kiss him, tell him you're a free woman and you'll try anything once."

"Oh, God. No."

"Okay, you'll try certain things once as long they're legal."

Harper stifled a laugh at Audrey's droll tone. "You're making me rethink this."

"Sorry. I'll be quiet and finish my drink. Go see him. I guarantee you won't be sorry."

Harper rose and left some money on the table for her own drink. "Can I get that in writing?"

Audrey winked at her. "I'll even have it notarized."

* * * *

Grant forced himself to get up from his desk and stretch. It was eight p.m., and he'd spent another twelve-hour day organizing TF's financials. He had the files in order now, and all but two weekends between now and March were booked with events, not to mention several mid-week affairs like the Auxiliary Club dinner. The holding company couldn't fault him on a strong start for the year, but only time would tell if the place could still turn a profit.

At least for tonight, he could justify going home before midnight. Just as he reached for his coat from the rack in the corner, headlights flashed across the frost-covered window behind his desk. Frowning, he took his coat, shut off his office lights, and headed for the lobby door. Maybe one of the kitchen staff had forgotten something.

A tingle raced across his stomach muscles when he saw Harper's blond hair shining under the front marquee lights. Even all bundled up in her coat, she looked gorgeous, with her cheeks pink from the cold and a few errant snow flurries glistening on her lashes. He hurried to the door to let her in.

"Everything okay?" he asked as she sidled past him, bringing a swirl of light snow in from outside. "The weather's getting bad."

"I know. I'm glad I caught you still here." She pulled off her hat and smiled as her hair spiked around her in staticky waves. It caught the light from outside like a halo.

"I was just leaving..."

"Well, I just wanted to tell you, about the other night...upstairs."

"I am sorry about that. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't be sorry. Don't be sorry at all." She threw her arms around him and kissed him deeply, urgently, her mouth warm and honey-sweet.

Relief flooded him. He'd been half expecting to get slapped. Lust replaced all coherent thoughts a second later, and he cupped the back of her head and held her to him, deepening the kiss. When they finally broke apart, her lips were swollen and dark pink. Her eyes sparkled.

"I can't stop thinking about the bridal suite." She blushed, and her suddenly demure look arrowed right to his erection.

"I can't even go near that room without thinking of laying you down on that couch." He tugged on the zipper of her coat and had the voluminous parka peeled off her in a second. Beneath it she wore a black dress and sheer stockings. He hadn't noticed her high heels until now, but the complete package was a knockout. "Wow. Did you just come from a party or something?"

She shook her head and spun around so he could see the flouncy skirt ride up just a bit, revealing her shimmery nylons. "Nope. This is for you. It's nicer than a janitor's jumpsuit."

Something in Grant's chest constricted. The jumpsuit had sort of been his fantasy all week, but this would certainly do as a replacement. He pulled Harper into his arms and let his hands roam along the satiny material that cinched at her waist. "Oh, baby, I've got plans for that jumpsuit, but they can wait." He kissed her again, and she moaned a little when he squeezed her ass through the layers of her skirt. "Why don't we go somewhere?"

Harper trailed her fingers down his arm and tugged him toward the curving staircase. "I know just the place."

* * * *

Harper thought her heart would burst out of her chest, it was beating so fast. When she'd left Audrey at Colette's her innocent plan had been to drop by Taverna Fiora, and if Grant was still here, she was going to sit him down and explain how much she liked him and how she would love to get to know him even though her life was still in a bit of turmoil because of Brad. It had all sounded so reasonable and...professional. The devil had made her stop off at home and put on her sexiest dress and black velvet pumps. Audrey's voice in her head told her to go for it, and just in case Grant had somehow really changed his mind about being interested in her, she had to show him what he was missing.

Her plan for a calm, reasonable conversation went out the window the minute she laid eyes on him. He looked sleepy and a little confused by her arrival, but his tie, hanging open around his neck had given her some wicked ideas.

Now, having climbed to the top of the marble staircase with him in tow, she'd passed the point of no return. She was going to do what her heart and her body wanted to do, without any thought as to what anyone who found out about it might think.

She turned at the top of the stairs and met his gaze. "The only reason I ran off the other night was because I was afraid to admit I wanted you too."

He wrapped his hands around her waist and nuzzled her neck. "I thought it was because I was acting like a caveman. I felt awful about it."

She laughed despite the erotic tingle racing up and down her spine. She'd never felt so sexy in her life, and she wanted to savor every second of it. "Sometimes a girl likes a caveman."

He growled and scooped her up in his arms. She giggled as he carried her into the bridal suite and placed her on the ultra soft cushions of the ornate couch. Her laughter stopped the moment his mouth covered hers, and she wrapped her hands in his tie and pulled him closer until he was lying across her.

His weight, pressing her into the overstuffed cushions, felt more right than anything ever had. All thoughts of what anyone else might think of this wicked liaison left her head as she settled her hips beneath his and ran one of her heels teasingly up the back of his leg.

He groaned and stilled above her. "You're making me insane." He kissed her jaw, her throat, and hooked his fingers into the neckline of her dress, pulling the satin just an inch lower so he could press his lips to the supersensitive skin above her collarbone.

Harper arched beneath him, and the hard length of him pressed into her thigh. The thought that she'd given him a raging erection so quickly turned her on to no end. With her hands on his shoulders, she pushed him to a sitting position and started to unbutton his shirt.

Grant grabbed her hands and kissed her fingertips. "Are you sure about this? If we go any further, I'm not going to be able to stop."

She met his gaze and licked her lips. "I wouldn't dream of letting you stop."

"Okay, then. Caveman time."

"Thank God!" Harper leaned forward and placed her lips on his chest above each button as she opened his shirt. She spread the crisp cotton aside and worked her way down until she reached the waistband of his pants. He stopped her there and lowered her hands to her sides.

"My turn." He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed his tie on the floor, then reached behind her for the zipper of her dress. He opened the black satin and let the bodice fall forward, revealing the slinky black bra she'd worn underneath. "Have mercy," he muttered before planting a line of searing kisses along one bra strap, which he then lowered ever so slowly.

Harper was on fire. She straddled him, settling over his erection, while he worked the other bra strap off her shoulder. A second later he was kissing her breasts, suckling her nipples, and snaking one hand along her thigh in search of her panties.

He broke away from their desperate kiss, his eyes wide. "Hold that thought one second."

He lifted her off him like she was weightless and set her back on the couch. She watched, clutching her open dress in front of her as he vaulted out of the room. She counted the seconds while he was gone—twenty-three—and when he dashed back into the room he held up a wrapped condom. "The waiters always have a few in their lockers."

Her face heated. She had brought one along, but she'd left it in her purse, which was down in the lobby with her coat. What must he think of—she stopped herself. Audrey's voice played the refrain: He's a guy. The only thing he's thinking is how much he wants you.

She smiled and sank into the cushions. "I like a man who thinks of the little details."

He knelt beside her and caressed her arm, her cheek, with such reverence she wanted to cry. "You are so beautiful. The first second I saw you I was out of my mind. Every day for the past two weeks I couldn't think straight because you're in my head."

"Grant, shut up and kiss me!" She pulled him down to her and wrapped her arms around his neck. A second later her dress was gone, tossed in the pile with his shirt and tie. She offered him her right foot and he removed her shoe, then did the same with her left, and he helped her shimmy out of her nylons.

He kissed her ankles, the backs of her knees, then ran gentle fingers up the insides of her thighs. She shuddered with the sensation and closed her eyes, biting her lip to keep from whimpering as he carefully peeled off her panties.

"God, you're amazing," he whispered, adding a worshipping kiss to her navel. She shivered and reached for him, pulling him to her. Through half-closed lids, she watched their hands tangle at the button and zipper of his pants. She wanted to help, but her fingers were shaking and weak. He finally pushed her hands away. "It's okay. I've got it."

She nodded, afraid to speak, terrified she'd say something to blow this perfect moment. Fortunately he got his pants off and the condom on and was kissing her again before she managed to form any words that might break the spell.

She opened to him, needing the connection more than anything. He obliged, gently at first, tentatively. Their eyes locked. He put himself inside her, and she sighed with the sensation and kissed him though a moan of pleasure.

"Oh, my—Harper. God..." Grant began to move, slowly, with measured strokes as if he might be afraid to lose control. She guided him with her hips, urging him with kisses that became more demanding by the second.

"I won't break, Grant."

He buried his face in the crook of her neck and clutched her tightly, his body rigid and his breathing fast and hard. "You've already broken me." After that he let go. The caveman in him surfaced, and he took her over the edge in three powerful strokes.

She lay beneath him, panting, petting his hair and the taut skin of his shoulders while his heart raced with hers. The bridal suite had never looked so good.

"Come home with me?" she said finally when he raised his head to meet her gaze.

He smiled and ran a thumb over her bottom lip. "I thought you'd never ask."

# Chapter Nine

Hours later Grant lay in Harper's bed, watching the cold blue light of dawn turn slowly golden. She was curled beside him, her hair tickling his chest, her hand spread across his stomach. If anyone had predicted a few hours ago that he would wake up with this exquisite creature in his arms, he'd have thought they were crazy.

She stirred, and he wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Good morning."

She mumbled something, then her head popped up, and she looked at him. "Hi." She seemed almost surprised to find him stretched out on her lavender sheets with her flowered comforter tucked under his chin.

He raised a brow. "Hi, I'm Grant. Maybe you don't remember me, but we had sex about four times last night."

She moaned and ducked her head under her pillow. "This is why I've got to stop drinking in the middle of the week."

He waited a full second before diving under the covers to punish her for that irreverent remark. She shrieked while he tickled her, and the shrieks became moans of delight as he found other ways to make her repent. Before long her moans became sighs of satisfaction, and once again she lay across him, her breathing deep and regular, while he stroked his fingers up and down the sensuous curve of her back.

"This is a nice way to wake up," he said, shifting so his legs entwined with hers.

"How long has it been since you woke up with someone?"

He thought of his last relationship. "About a year. I've been so busy with work, I hadn't really thought about being with anyone, until I met you."

"No dates, nothing?" He lifted her head and busied herself tracing circles on his chest with her thumb.

"A few. I work weekends. I find a lot of women don't appreciate that."

"Hmm." She nodded. "I guess that's hard on someone who works all week long and wants to go out Friday and Saturday nights."

"You work all week long." This wasn't a road he wanted to go down at the moment. No use lying in bed trying to figure out why they would never work out as a couple.

She sat up, smiling. "Apparently I work weekends too, making centerpieces. And...oh crap. It's Wednesday."

"Yeah?"

"Part of that pesky week I have to work." She threw herself across him, which he didn't mind in the least, and grabbed her alarm clock off the nightstand. "I've got an hour and a half. Whew. Can I make you some breakfast?"

"Baby, I just had breakfast." He rolled her over and kissed the back of her neck and down her spine. She squealed and wiggled out from under him, grabbing the sheet to wrap herself in.

"Ah, you're clever. Distracting me like that. You can shower first if you want. I'll make some toast and coffee."

"Don't worry about me." He scooped up his clothes from the floor. "I'll slip out quietly so the neighbors won't gossip, and I'll go home. I don't want to mess up your morning routine."

She cocked a brow and gave him a sassy smirk. "Are you implying it's routine for me to have gentlemen callers in my bed on weekday mornings?"

He winked. "Only when you drink."

She threw a pillow at him. "I'll meet you downstairs. Bathroom is across the hall."

He grudgingly obeyed and hurried off to the bathroom to slip on his hopelessly wrinkled shirt and pants. His tie hadn't made it to her house, and he only hoped none of the TF staff would have cause to go into the bridal suite first thing this morning. He hadn't figured out how he would explain parts of his wardrobe having been left there.

* * * *

Harper threw on a nightshirt and a pair of sweats and ran downstairs, her heart thumping wildly and her stomach doing flip-flops. She'd really done it. She'd enticed Grant into her bed, and she wasn't the least bit sorry. On the contrary, she felt fantastic. The thought of him, those deep blue eyes, his gentle skill in bed, the sound of him whispering her name—she had to hold on to the kitchen counter to keep her knees from buckling. Being bad had never been so much fun. She wanted to go to Taverna Fiora and just peek into the bridal suite. She'd never look wistfully at that room again. It was hers now. She owned it, and no bride would ever adore it as much as she did.

She had coffee brewing and toast toasting by the time Grant came downstairs. He'd left the top button of his shirt open and had the collar standing up around his throat. His hair was mussed as though he'd tried to comb it with his fingers. She whimpered and clutched the counter. Who needed food? She could eat him alive.

"Your tie..."

"I lost it." He grinned knowingly. "We were very careless with our clothes last night."

"Hmm. I recall things being tossed all over the place."

"Yeah. That's why I need to get to work early." He kissed her nose, her chin, her lips. She sighed.

"Okay. You sure you don't want something to eat?"

He nibbled her ear lobe. "This is fine." He kissed her lips. "And this."

"Okay."

He let her go, and she followed him to the front door. "I will call you later today. All right?"

"Sure, yes. Any time."

She pulled the door open for him, reluctant to let him leave. Why hadn't she picked a Saturday night to seduce him so he wouldn't have to rush off at the crack of dawn?

"Who the hell is this?" Bradley's voice intruded on their good-bye kiss.

Harper's spirits plummeted, and her heart skipped a beat. In an instant all her giddy shamelessness transformed into guilt. This looked bad. Why? She couldn't explain it. She knew she shouldn't have had to. "What are you doing here, Brad?"

He thrust a plump paper bag into her hands. "I was bringing you bagels and coffee and I was going to suggest we have breakfast together and talk some more. I guess someone beat me to it." He glared at Grant. "Who the hell are you again?"

Harper had to give Grant credit for his smooth style. His voice remained perfectly modulated and casual. "I'm Grant," he said as if that explained everything.

Brad shifted his hard gaze to Harper. "Now I get why you were so eager to break things off."

"As I recall, I didn't break things off. You walked out on our wedding. That, in my book, equals breaking things off."

"And I suppose Grant here was just waiting in the wings."

"Actually we met when she came to pick up the flowers at the catering hall," Grant offered, his voice still even. He glanced at Harper, a question in his eyes. Should he leave? She didn't want him to, but she also didn't need him here to defend her.

"Oh, so I guess it's all my fault, then? I threw you two together?"

"Brad, I thought we'd been through this. It's not going to work with us. Grant was just leaving, and I think you should too."

"So that's it. You're just going to walk away and not give me any chance to talk about what happened?"

Harper's face had heated to the boiling point. Despite the frigid air sweeping in from outside, her blood was sizzling and not in a good way. She shoved the bagels back into Brad's gloved hands. "Let's get one thing straight, Brad. Stop saying 'what happened.' It didn't 'happen'—you caused it. You walking out on me was not something that just occurred out of the blue like a thunderstorm or a car crash. You made it happen. Let's use the real words and call it what you did. And I gave you a chance to explain, and you know what? I don't care about the explanation. It doesn't matter why you left. You did, and I actually do respect that you had your reasons for doing it. Now it's your turn to respect the fact that I have my reasons for being glad it 'happened.'"

Brad sputtered a few choice words, dropped the bagels on the porch and stormed off. Grant let out a slow breath and slipped his arm around Harper's shoulders. "I'm sorry about that. Should I have decked him?"

She deflated, her cheeks cooling. In a second she went from ready to explode to shivering, and she huddled against Grant's warmth for a moment. "No. Thanks for offering. I didn't expect him to still want to talk."

"Are you okay?"

She nodded and smoothed his shirt, then tugged the zipper of his own jacket up higher against the winter chill. "I'm fine. It's all fine."

He held her gaze for a minute, and the depth of his stare had her heart rate up again. "I just want to be sure of one thing. That, between you and Brad, looked like it was over, but if it's not...if there's still anything there that needs to be resolved, let me know. I'll stay out of the way."

"No. No." She kissed him once, then again, longer and deeper. "I told him the truth. I'm not trying to make him jealous." But it had sort of felt good to let Brad see she'd moved on. That thought made her cringe, so she refused to dwell on it.

"Good. I don't want to be the guy in the middle. I think we went a little fast, and I would really hate it if we both ended up regretting last night." He tilted her chin up and rubbed a thumb along her lower lip. "I don't want to regret last night."

"Never."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later." He kissed her once more and left, taking a moment to hand her the discarded bag of bagels.

Once inside, in a fit of annoyance, Harper tore open the bag. Brad had bought all of her favorites along with coffee in a spill-proof box. He'd even included a small jar of her favorite orange marmalade. She sat down at the kitchen table and rested her head in her hands. She didn't love Brad anymore, and that broke her heart. He wasn't a bad guy, despite Audrey's growing collection of nicknames for him, but now, she imagined, he thought she was a terrible person, a cheater, a slut of some kind. Audrey would tell her not to worry about it, but it bothered her, and she hated that it bothered her.

Frustrated tears spilled down her cheeks when she realized she was losing control of herself. She was trying to prove something to herself with Grant, and maybe trying to prove something to Bradley, and she had to stop making statements with her actions and start making decisions about where to go from here. "What have I done?" she asked herself through tears. "And what am I going to do?"

# Chapter Ten

"You didn't waste any time, did you?" Mrs. Dawson's normally kind voice had taken on a shrill tone, and her words blared out of Harper's cell phone loudly enough to turn heads in the diner where she'd met Audrey for lunch.

Why didn't I check the caller ID? She rolled her eyes and forced her own voice to a neutral tone. "I can't talk right now."

"There's nothing you can say to me anyway. I'm appalled that you were out digging yourself up a new man while my son was home worrying about how to make things right with you."

Harper squeezed the phone tight. Across the table, Audrey stared at her, agape. She could hear every scathing word, as could the people in the next three booths. "You have the timeline wrong, Mrs. Dawson. I was out digging up a new man while your son was enjoying the honeymoon he should have been taking with me. He could have made things right by talking to me instead of leaving town."

"Don't try to turn this around. You cheated on him."

"You can't cheat on someone you're not with. Good-bye, Mrs. Dawson." Harper hung up. With shaking hands she thrust her phone back into her purse. "That didn't take long, did it?"

"Five hours. I would have pegged it for fifteen minutes actually. She's been stewing for a while." Audrey shook her head. "She has a lot of nerve."

"I expected as much. I've gone from jilted bride to slutty tart."

"I'm so jealous."

"Don't be. She'll tell everyone she knows. It was one thing putting up with the sympathetic looks. This will be unbearable."

"But now you have Grant, so that makes up for it."

Harper covered her face with her hands. "Do I really have Grant? It was one night, not a commitment of any kind. And who am I to be making commitments anyway?"

"So don't make a commitment. And don't worry about what people think. They may talk about it, but any woman who sees Grant will only be envious of you."

Harper couldn't dispute that. The very thought of Grant gave her butterflies. His ability to commit didn't concern her half as much as her own. She had to get over that. "You're right. Let them say what they want or think what they want. I'm going to enjoy this and just see where it goes."

"Now you're talking! Can we get back to details, please? I believe you were talking about the ceiling of the bridal suite before we were interrupted."

* * * *

Despite the added urgency of tax season at her day job, and spending her evenings working on the centerpieces and gift baskets for the Auxiliary Club dinner, the week dragged on for Harper. She wanted desperately to see Grant again, but with his own grueling schedule and problems with the kitchen staff at TF, she was only able to talk to him a couple of times on the phone.

By the following Tuesday, the night of the dinner, she was a wreck. They'd spent one glorious night together and hadn't seen each other for a moment since. Their conversations had been short and casual, and in her opinion, somewhat perfunctory. Something was wrong, but he refused to admit it, even when she asked him point-blank. Between his inexplicable coolness and the couple of encounters she'd had with Brad's friends and family members, she was just about ready to fly off to Tahiti on her own and never come back.

Even Audrey, who'd volunteered to help cart the decorations to TF, couldn't cheer her up.

"You're overanalyzing again."

"No, I'm not." Harper unlocked her trunk and started stacking boxes into Audrey's waiting arms. "When I talk to him it's like that night never happened."

"You said yourself, he's busy, right? The head chef quit, two waiters were in a car accident and can't work, his head's on the chopping block if the place doesn't make good money, and we're heading into the doomsdays of winter when no one schedules any big parties. Not to mention, it's tax season. You're working overtime too. Give yourselves some breathing room."

Harper dragged in a deep breath of frigid evening air. "I've been doing so much damn breathing, I'm hyperventilating. If I breathe any more, I'll pass out."

"Give me three seconds to look at the guy and I'll tell you what's going on. I can sense these things. I'll know the minute we walk in if he's pulling a Bradley on you."

"Don't even joke. I can't go through that again."

"Trust me, you won't. It's different with Grant."

"And you know this because of the five minutes you've spent with the two of us?"

Audrey shrugged beneath teetering boxes. "Yes, I do."

"Okay. I bow to your supreme awareness of all things. Let's hurry this stuff inside before the candles crack from the cold."

A uniformed waiter let them into the lobby and led them to the main ballroom. Grant didn't seem to be anywhere around, which troubled Harper even more. He worked every event, so he had to be on hand. The fact that he hadn't come to say hello didn't bode well.

She eyed Audrey as they began setting up. "Something's definitely wrong."

"Chill. It's fine. He's probably busy."

"Okay. You're right. The dark blue arrangements go on the round tables, and the white and blue ones go at the head table over there. That table in the back is for the gift baskets, and that roll of red tickets goes next them. They'll be raffled off."

"Aye-aye." Audrey got to work placing centerpieces and fluffing bows, fixing blooms, and gently stripping off the occasional bent flower petal.

Meanwhile, Harper paced. Her heart fluttered. Where was Grant?

When he appeared her stomach dropped, and the butterflies she'd been battling turned to giant bats. She caught her breath. He looked incredible in a charcoal gray suit and red tie with matching boutonniere. He looked six inches taller than she remembered, and he moved with a sophisticated grace that had her damn close to swooning like a delicate Southern belle.

He didn't smile when he saw her, but instead crossed the room at a determined pace and took her arm. "Hi, can we talk in my office for a second?"

"Sure...what's—"

"My office. Let's go this way." He steered her toward the back entrance of the ballroom that would lead through to the kitchen. With a curious glance at Audrey, Harper followed Grant, running to keep up with his long strides.

"Do you mind telling me—"

He stopped walking so quickly she almost bumped into him, and when she peered around his shoulder to see what had halted him in his tracks, she caught Mrs. Moriarty's dark gaze.

"Oh. There you are," the Auxiliary Club President said. "May I have a word, Ms. Shaw?"

Ms. Shaw? During their last meeting it had been Harper. Harper glanced up at Grant, whose jaw was so tight it was twitching. Why was he so angry? What had she done? "Of course. Is there a problem, Mrs. Moriarty?"

"Yes, there is."

"Mrs. Moriarty, your guests will be her in less than ten minutes. Is this the time or the place for this discussion?" Grant's voice was like sandpaper. Clearly the two were at odds.

"I would like her to know how I feel."

"Grant, what's going on? Did I miss something?"

"Ms. Shaw, I don't know if you're aware, but the Auxiliary Club holds certain standards of behavior for its members and by default for the contractors or organizations with which it does business."

Harper just raised a brow and waited for Mrs. Moriarty to start making sense.

"While I understand your personal life is not of public concern, I do feel it necessary to note that in the future our organization won't be utilizing your services or those of Taverna Fiora, and had it not been for Mr. Addison's...intervention, we would not be using them tonight."

"Mrs. Moriarty, I'm completely sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You've said your piece, ma'am, now why don't you go get ready to receive your guests?" Grant wrapped his hand around Harper's wrist and literally pulled her away from the seemingly irate club president.

Stumbling after him, Harper wasn't sure whether to laugh at the absurdity of it all or cry. She still had no idea what she'd done to make Mrs. Moriarty and Grant so angry.

Without uttering a word, he led her into his office and slammed the door.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on? What was that out there? She looked at me like I kicked her puppy."

Grant was fuming. He paced back and forth for a second, breathing deeply. Harper just stared, completely flummoxed. "Sit down," he said finally.

"No, not until you explain what's going on. What did I do?"

He took a deep breath, and finally his expression softened. "You didn't do anything. I was trying to hustle you in here to keep you away from her."

Harper put her hands on her hips. "Why?"

"I got a call from her earlier this week. It seems she's acquainted with Mrs. Georgia Dawson, and Mrs. Dawson told Mrs. Moriarty some things Mrs. Moriarty found objectionable...about you."

Harper narrowed her eyes. Her blood began to simmer. "I see."

"She wanted to cancel the decorations for tonight, but I told her she had two choices. She could drop the decorations from her order, but she still had to pay seventy-five percent of the cost because you'd already prepared a lot of the baskets, or she could act in a professional manner and not let gossip influence her business decisions. She was not happy with my tone, but she saw the merit in not wasting her money."

Her mind reeling, Harper finally lowered herself into Grant's office chair. "She said Taverna Fiora wouldn't be getting her business either. She's taking this out on you, because Mrs. Dawson told her about us?"

"No, that part doesn't have anything to do with Brad. Our...discussion got pretty heated after she said she didn't like your moral character. I said a few things I should probably regret, but I don't, and she informed me this would be the last Auxiliary Club event held at TF as long as she remained President. She probably would have canceled tonight all together, but there was no way she was getting her deposit back."

Harper's shoulders slumped under the thousand-pound weight he'd just laid on them. Now she was responsible for TF losing business, and it was all because of what people thought. "It's like the eighteen hundreds. I'm some kind of fallen woman, and now no one wants anything I've had my hands on."

Grant knelt down in front of the chair and took her hands in his. "Mrs. Moriarty is an old fool, and Mrs. Dawson is...well, my mother told me never to say those words about a lady, but she's no lady."

"I'm sorry, Grant. I don't want to hurt the business. After tonight—"

"No. You do amazing work, and I want your designs for TF. I don't care what Mrs. Moriarty thinks or what Mrs. Dawson says about you. This whole thing is ridiculous, just because you hurt Brad's feelings. I actually felt sorry for the guy. Losing a girl like you is something he's never going to bounce back from, but now...he deserves what he gets if he lets his mother go around bad-mouthing you. Besides, Mrs. Moriarty is just one person."

Harper shook her head. "There've been others. Brad has a lot of family around here, and they all know I spent the night with you."

He held her gaze, his eyes steady and deep. "Then they know what a hell of a lucky guy I am."

"Grant...this is causing so many problems. It's too soon. I shouldn't have..."

He rose. "You're regretting what we did?" His voice hardened again, and that only added to Harper's misery. The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him, but the weight of everyone else's disapproval mattered to her. She hated herself for that.

"I can handle people making snide remarks about me, but your job depends on this place doing well. Mrs. Moriarty has a lot of influence. The Auxiliary Club is big around here, and if they put the word out that they don't like TF..."

"They probably already have. We'll get through it. Don't worry about it."

"I have to worry about it. It's my fault." Harper rose. She pulled herself up, straightening her spine and dragged her gaze away from Grant's. "I've got to go finish setting up before the guests all get here, and then I have to take Audrey home."

"So it's over between us?"

She couldn't look at him. "I don't know. I think...we should have given it more thought. I should have given it more thought."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I have to go." Harper let herself out of the office. She stormed through the narrow hallway between the kitchen and the main ball room and launched herself into the now beautifully decorated room.

Audrey met her halfway. She jerked a thumb in the direction of Mrs. Moriarty, who stood by the main entrance looking haughty and put upon. "That woman...that woman is this close to getting a candle stick up her nose. If I wasn't a nurse..."

"Let's go. I'm finished here."

"What happened with Grant? Was he mad at you? That woman said some things—"

"Let's just go." Harper grabbed Audrey's arm and yanked her toward the door. They passed Mrs. Moriarty without a word, though Audrey glared at her evilly before they headed out to collect their coats in the lobby. Fortunately, Harper managed to hold back her tears until they got into her car.

# Chapter Eleven

Grant didn't call. Not that she expected him too, but the more time passed, the more Harper hated herself for walking out on him, and the harder it became to think up a way to apologize.

He'd looked so hurt when she'd carelessly told him she should have given more thought to their liaison. Making love with him was not a mistake, and she didn't regret it, but she couldn't get over the specter of the trouble she'd caused for Taverna Fiora.

By Saturday morning she'd cried all the self-pitying tears she was ever going to cry, and she'd worked through all the really bad words she wanted to say to Brad and his mother. She'd reached a point where she thought she could make it through her speech to them both without breaking down.

So she stood now on Mrs. Dawson's front porch, ready to knock. Her knees wobbled, and she shivered a bit, this time not from the biting cold. The last day of January had dawned even colder and meaner than the first, but she was determined to start a new month with a new attitude, and, if she could make it through this day, a new man in her life.

She lifted the brass knocker and tapped it a couple of times as hard as she could. It took a full two minutes for someone to answer. Brad's father swung the door open and offered the glare she knew was reserved for the people who disturbed his breakfast. Harper wanted to crumble into dust and blow away. The man was that imposing, but she had to stand up to him as well as his wife and say her piece.

"Good morning, Mr. Dawson. Is Georgia at home?"

For a second the man looked stunned. Bushy eyebrows crashed together in the middle of his broad forehead before he stepped back to allow Harper into the foyer. "Come in, Harper. I'm very glad you're here."

She gulped and crossed the threshold. She hadn't seen Brad's car around, so at least she wouldn't have to deal with him too. She had a special rant reserved for her ex if she ever found herself face-to-face with him again.

Mr. Harper yelled for his wife, a bellow that shook the large house. A moment later, Mrs. Dawson came down the stairs into the foyer. Her expression froze, cold as the January wind, when she saw Harper.

"I think you have something to say to Harper, don't you?" Mr. Dawson scowled at his wife who scowled back.

Harper had no desire to get in between the older couple. She only wanted to tell Mrs. Dawson she wouldn't be intimidated by gossip, no matter how small this town was. "Mrs. Dawson, I'm sure you don't want to speak to me, so I'll make this short—"

"Georgia? Don't you make this girl apologize to you."

Harper shifted her determined gaze to Mr. Dawson. "Excuse me?"

"She told me about what happened at the Club Dinner," Mr. Dawson said. "I was not happy about it."

"Well, Mr. Dawson, I really don't—"

"Let me finish. Harper, you're a nice girl, and you were good for Bradley. He screwed things up with you, and you have every right to kick him to the curb. What you do from here on in is your own business, and as much as it pains me to think you will never be our daughter-in-law, I think the two of you made the right decision to break up, if that's what you did. Georgia?"

Mrs. Dawson took a deep breath and clamped her lips shut, obviously not about to agree with her husband. He continued, "There are a lot of hurt feelings all the way around, and if my wife can influence the Auxiliary Club not to do business with you, well, I can't change that. I'm not a member, so that choice is up to them. I don't have to like it, but I can't stop it. On the other hand, I told my wife, I won't stand for her talking about you in public, or saying things about the restaurant where that other young man works. If you're seeing him, well, I'm disappointed, not in you, but for Bradley because he shouldn't have been such a fool."

Harper stared. All the wind had been taken out of her sails. She couldn't very well yell at Mrs. Dawson now. The woman looked on the verge of an implosion, as if she'd fold up on herself any minute. Clearly she was embarrassed by her husband's confession that he wasn't supporting her actions on the night of the Club Dinner. "Uh...well, thank you, Mr. Dawson. I appreciate that."

"Georgia?"

Mrs. Dawson let out a slow breath. Harper had the feeling if she ignored yet another request from Mr. Dawson to actually say something, there would be hell to pay. "Harper, I'm disappointed too. It's hurtful that you would go out and find someone to replace Bradley so quickly without even giving him the proper chance to—"

"Georgia!"

"Quiet, Ben. Let me say my piece now, and I'll never speak about it again. Harper, you're young and you're not yet a mother, so you don't understand how much it hurts a woman to see her child in pain. Bradley felt terrible about his actions, and all he wanted was to make it right again. Whether or not you should have...found another boyfriend so quickly, is neither here nor there, but the whole thing broke my heart. I was only trying to help fix things so the two of you would be happy, and when I realized that there would be nothing I could do, well, I got angry and I did some things...I said some things I should not have said. I apologize for telling as many people as I did about you and Mr. Addison. I've told Mrs. Moriarty I was wrong to have suggested she not work with you. I understand she had quite the go-around with that man...with Mr. Addison, so I'm not sure she will ever go back to his establishment. I'm sorry for that, but I never did suggest she not do business with him."

Harper raised a brow and glanced at Mr. Dawson. As far as apologies went, this wasn't much of one, but on the other hand, she hadn't expected any admission of guilt from Georgia at all. "Well, I guess we'll just have to see if Taverna Fiora can weather the storm. The main reason I came here today was to tell you that I didn't care what you said about me, but that I wouldn't put up with you or anyone trying to hurt the business Grant is working so hard at. I plan to do anything I can to make sure no one listens to Mrs. Moriarty and that Taverna Fiora doesn't lose any clients because of her. I know I don't have the right to expect it, but I do hope the two of you will support me on this. Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, I am sorry that this all happened the way it did, not for my actions, but because so many people were hurt and disappointed, and none of it was necessary. I don't hate Brad, and I hope he doesn't hate me. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, dear." Mr. Dawson held the door for her, and Harper headed down the icy front steps. She thought she heard Mrs. Dawson say good-bye as well, but when she turned around to look they'd already closed the door.

The frigid air felt so good on her heated skin she toyed with the idea of taking off her coat. She would have, but she didn't want to catch pneumonia and end up having to apologize to Grant from behind a paper mask to keep her germs off him.

"Two down. One to go," she told herself as she climbed into her car and started the engine with still shaking fingers. Somehow she didn't think her next speech would be as easy to deliver.

* * * *

Grant stood at his office window watching the snow fall. January had been a particularly brutal month and judging by the weather forecast, February would be even worse. Profits would suffer over the next month, and he'd have only March, the most unpredictable month, to get TF back in the black or he'd be shipped back to the head office, or to the unemployment line.

He should have been thinking about strategies for drumming up business, and in this small town it wasn't going to be easy to ride out even the most insignificant scandal. Honestly, who really cared whom he slept with? He hadn't stolen Harper from anyone, but Elaine had dutifully informed him she'd heard talk at the supermarket that her boss was the local Lothario responsible for breaking up a wedding—one he hadn't even known about until it was already cancelled.

It didn't matter.

Nothing really mattered except Harper.

Tired of watching the aimlessly drifting snow flakes, he grabbed his coat and headed down the hall to the lobby. "Elaine, I'm taking lunch."

"It's ten thirty," she shot back, deadpan.

"Fine, I'm taking brunch. I'll be back later. Maybe."

He didn't wait for another snappy comeback, just headed out into the cold, determined to find himself some sunshine.

* * * *

"He went to brunch at ten thirty," Elaine informed Harper when she arrived at TF at eleven. Her heart sank. She could wait for him, but with her heart fluttering uncontrollably, she wondered if she wouldn't pass out by the time he showed up. She needed to see him, to talk to him now. She thought of just calling him, but what if he didn't answer? Or what if he was in the middle of talking to a client? She didn't want to ruin another contract for him.

"Do you want me to leave him a message, hon?" Elaine asked, her pen poised over a pink message pad.

"No. I'll come back. Will he be in this afternoon?"

Elaine eyed the heavily falling snow which was starting to drift up against the glass lobby doors. "He said he might be back, but I don't know. I'm only here until two, and we don't have an event scheduled tonight, so the place will be closed by five."

"Oh. Okay. Well, please tell him I was here, then, and that he can..." She considered her instructions. How would it sound if she said he was welcome to drop by her house any time? What would Elaine think if she...

Stop! Audrey's voice cut through all the crap in her head. Who cared what anyone thought? "Yes. Please tell him Harper was here, and I'll be waiting dinner for him at my place, and if he doesn't show up, I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning and every single morning after that until I get to see him in person."

"Uhh...okay." Elaine seemed a bit dumbstruck by her suddenly forceful tone. "What's your address?"

Harper smirked. "He knows it."

She turned on her heel and strode out of the lobby feeling confident for the first time all day. She'd fix things with Grant. Whatever she had to do, she'd do it because she might not have been able to tell Bradley wasn't the right person for her, but she sure as hell knew Grant was.

* * * *

For the second time since he'd started back to Taverna Fiora from Harper's house, Grant considered pulling over. The snow swirled relentlessly in front of him, almost obliterating the roads which hadn't yet been plowed. He'd already seen one car careen through an intersection, and he had no desire to end up in a snow bank, so he slowed down to a crawl. He worried about where she might be in this weather and hoped she'd gone to her friend's house. He'd just have to call her as soon as he got off the road, but he hadn't yet decided what to say to her other than just to beg her to see him again, regardless of what anyone in Spring River Valley or anywhere else thought about them being together.

He considered stopping just to call Elaine and tell her to lock up the lobby and go home, but technically he was only five minutes away from the restaurant, so he was probably safer going there and staying in the office for the night. There was plenty of food in the kitchen, hot coffee always ready, and he could sleep in the bridal suite if he needed to, though it wouldn't be any fun to lie on that comfy couch alone.

He slammed on the brakes without thinking about it as a pair of headlights drifted into his lane from the other side of the road. His momentary lapse into thoughts about Harper had taken his attention away from the treacherous conditions for a split second during which another driver had hit a slippery patch and slid across the double yellow line.

Grant's car spun halfway around, fishtailing into a snow bank with a dull thud. At least he'd avoided hitting the other car which halted in the middle of the road.

After a deep breath, he flung his door open and stepped out into the storm to see if the other driver was all right.

Bundled in his jacket with the hood up, yet still shivering, he crossed the street and tapped on the frosty driver's side window of the other car. The icy pane rolled down a few inches and a red nose and a familiar pair of sky blue eyes appeared.

"Harper? Oh my god, are you all right?"

"Grant? What are you doing out here in this weather?"

He laughed, thrilled to see her, thrilled she was all right, and desperate to climb into the warmth of her car with her. "Looking for you. What are you doing out?"

She ducked her head and made a sound that could have been a laugh or a sob. "I was trying to find you to apologize for being such a ninny the other night."

Grant leaned on the frame of the car as she rolled the window down the rest of the way. "You don't have to apologize for being a ninny. I happen to love ninnies."

She squinted at him. "Are you saying I'm a ninny or that you love me?"

He flung open her car door and pulled her to her feet so he could wrap her in his arms. "Yes."

"Good, so do I." She snuggled into his arms, though through all the layers of coat between them he could barely feel her. It didn't matter. He had her, and he wasn't going to let her go. He kissed her chilly lips until they warmed under his, and when he pulled back, all he saw was sunshine.

"It's supposed to be a terrible storm," she said, eyeing the barely visible road. "Why don't we take one car and go back to my place?"

"I would love to, but Elaine is still at TF, and I want to see she gets home safely. How about...we spend the night in the bridal suite?"

She met his gaze, and this time, despite all the fluffy down and wool between them, he felt her shiver. "Ooh, could we?"

"I know the manager. He won't say a word."

# Chapter Twelve

While the snow continued to pile up outside, Grant led Harper up the curving marble staircase to the bridal suite.

They'd made sure Elaine got home safely to her family and locked up TF, then made a scrumptious dinner of leftover hors d'oeuvres and piping hot cappuccino. Afterward they'd danced in the ballroom, all by themselves, to music only they could hear, and now, as darkness fell outside and the last storm of January raged, they headed upstairs to make use of the pink velvet couch.

"Oh, I never got to tell you the other reason I was coming over here," Harper said as they waltzed over the threshold into the ornately decorated room.

Grant turned on the electric fireplace, bathing the room in a flickering amber glow. "You mean you had an ulterior motive, besides wanting to seduce me again?"

"Yes, actually I did." She lowered herself to the couch, and he sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. "They're in my car. I was going to leave them here even if I didn't get to see you."

"What is?"

She met his gaze. In the faux firelight his eyes had dilated with desire. Harper wanted to dive into those blue depths and never surface, but she needed to tell him she still felt responsible for any business TF lost because of Mrs. Moriarty and Mrs. Dawson. "I had a thousand flyers made up advertising Taverna Fiora. My boss said I could put some up in our building, and I looked into getting a town permit to pass them out in the shopping district—when it's a little less snowy, of course. I figured that might help drum up some business."

Grant stared at her, his mouth slightly open.

"Say something."

"I can't. I'm speechless. You didn't have to do that. I'm sure it wasn't cheap."

"I used the money I made from the Auxiliary Club centerpieces. I figured that was fitting. If Mrs. Moriarty wants her friends not to come here, then maybe some of her money should go toward getting other people to book TF."

Grant shook his head. "You're amazing."

"You should see me calculate interest." She laughed, but Grant took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes.

"Really. You're amazing. I thought it the first moment I saw you, and I never doubted it for a second after that. I want you to know something. I brought you up here to make love to you tonight, but I know you were worried about this being some kind of rebound relationship that would fall apart when you got over what Brad did to you."

"No, I—"

"It doesn't matter. If you're the least bit worried about whether or not this is real, or whether or not we can make it work, that's okay. I'm willing to give you all the time you need. We can go as slow—" He paused to kiss her quickly on the lips. "Or as fast as you want, but whatever the pace, I want you to know I'm going to stick around for as long as it takes. I'm not going to run out on you."

Harper's throat constricted, and she had to look away in order to get her next words out. "You can't promise you'll never leave me, but you can promise me one thing."

He lifted her chin so she had to look at him. "Anything."

"Just promise if you think something is wrong, or if you're not happy, you'll just tell me, to my face, not by phone from the airport." She tried to make her voice light, but this wasn't a joke. That was the part with Brad that had really hurt the most, that when he doubted their relationship and his commitment to it, he'd run away instead of letting them deal with it together. She couldn't go through that again.

Grant kissed her lightly. "That I can definitely promise."

His next kiss was more demanding, and their conversation ended in a mutual sigh as he stretched her out on the cushions of the couch and settled his body over hers.

"Face-to-face," he said as his hands roamed her body, heating her from within and making her forget it was the middle of winter. "That's how it'll always be between us."

Harper smiled through a moan of pleasure and raised a brow. "Well, I can think of a few occasions where we might not want to be face-to-face." She wrapped her legs around him and kissed him with all the pent-up passion she had in her body. "How about I show you a few?"

THE END

And Coming Soon to Smashwords and other ebook retailers

After a string of disappointing first dates, Audrey Desmond figures she has nothing to lose by letting the town matchmaker fix her up with the perfect guy.

Max Shannon isn't looking for romance when his cousin Cassie ropes him into one of her matchmaking schemes as a stand-in for a last minute cancellation.

Fire and ice conspire to make their first date a disaster, but Max decides he can melt Audrey's chilly exterior if she'll give him a second chance. Together they discover a slow burn can ignite flames of passion even during the coldest month of the year.

FIXED UP IN FEBRUARY

Chapter One

"I just want you to know, I've never done this before." Audrey Desmond met the steady gaze of her lunch companion and tried to hide her nervousness with a lighthearted laugh. "I wouldn't be doing this at all except I'm...desperate. Not desperate, that sounds lame. I mean, just desperate to meet someone who isn't a creep."

Cassandra Hall sipped her coffee and smiled. "I totally get it. I've had my share of...less than memorable first dates too. It's hard to meet people, and those dating sites on the Internet are—"

"A craps shoot. I tried that, and it was a disaster. In fact, every date I went on last year, and the two I've been on this year, were unmitigated disasters. I don't want to sound like a whiner, but really, I'm starting to think there's something wrong with me. My friend Harper says I'm too picky, but when a guy wants to show you his scar where he had a ballpoint pen removed from his duodenum, you have to ask yourself—"

"Duodenum?"

"Small intestine. I'm sorry I even brought that up. See? It's me. Maybe working at the hospital has turned me into a weirdo magnet. When men find out I'm a nurse, they seem to want to show me things I'd rather not see without a doctor and an IV sedative on hand. Can you help me?"

"I think I can. Tell me exactly what you're looking for in a guy, deep down. The real thing, not just tall, dark, and handsome."

Audrey frowned. "So tall, dark, and handsome is off the table?"

Cassie laughed. "I'll consider those a given. But beyond that. Describe your perfect man."

At this point, Audrey really wasn't sure what she wanted in a man, but she could quote chapter and verse on what she didn't want. She thought for a moment, contemplating the rich swirl of cream she poured into her own coffee. At the moment, she knew one perfect couple. Her best friend Harper Shaw had been left only steps away from the altar barely a month ago, and in the interim had found Grant Addison, the smart, hunky, romantic, gorgeous business manager of the catering hall where Harper's wedding reception was to have been held. Audrey was thrilled that her friend had traded her wishy-washy ex-fiancé for a man like Grant. Unfortunately, as much as Audrey might have hoped, Grant didn't have any brothers.

After careful consideration, she met Cassie's expectant gaze. "I want a man with character, someone who'll stand up for himself and for me, someone who knows who he is and what he wants and doesn't let anything get in his way. I'm not a candy-and-flowers kind of girl, but I definitely need a man who can handle a serious relationship. He doesn't have to be sentimental, but he has to be solid and dependable and...is that too much? Because at this point I'll settle for someone who's never been admitted to the psych ward."

Cassie tucked a strand of long blond hair behind one year and made a few notes on a small pad of paper she'd brought with her. She looked up, squinting her blue eye—the other was brown—as though sizing Audrey up. "You strike me as a no-nonsense type. You want someone who's straightforward so you don't have to wonder where you stand with him. Am I right?"

Audrey examined her coffee spoon. "I usually get in trouble for being too straightforward. I say what I think...maybe a little too often."

"So you want a guy who can handle the truth and isn't going to crumble if you have a complaint about something he says or does."

"Do they make guys like that?"

"Trust me. I know a few."

"How many can I have?"

Cassie smirked. "Sorry, I don't do ménages. If you want more than one guy, you'll have to find the second one on your own."

"I'll take one. One would be plenty. Thanks."

"Okay. Give me a week, and I'll call you. How's your schedule at the hospital? Are weekends good for you?"

"Perfect." Audrey gave Cassie her schedule and her phone number, and they finished off lunch talking about Cassie's cupcake business. They parted in the parking lot of the diner, each heading to her own snow-covered car.

Before she pulled out of her parking space, Audrey fished her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Harper's number. Her friend had given her Cassandra's number and urged her to get help from the town's self-appointed matchmaker, a suggestion Audrey had considered a joke until last week when she realized six months had passed since she'd even cared if a guy called her for a second date. She was tired of starting at square one, and after seeing how happy Harper was with Grant, Audrey decided it was time for her to find someone to fill the void in her own life.

When Harper answered, Audrey lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. "The deed is done."

"What? Oh, you called Cassandra? That's great."

"I hope she can find me a prince charming, because I'm afraid you might have gotten the last one."

"Don't worry. I hear she's responsible for half a dozen marriages. She's good."

Audrey sighed. "Well, I may be the exception to the rule. Let's see what she comes up with for me."

"Who. You mean who she comes up with."

"What if I'm unmatchable?"

"You're not."

"I could ruin her reputation."

"You won't."

"I'm kryptonite when it comes to dating."

"You're not."

"Okay, fine. I'll call you later." Audrey and Harper hung up, and Audrey contemplated her hazel eyes in the rearview mirror. "Watch out, Superman. You haven't met Audrey Desmond yet."

www.claricewynter.com
About the Author

Considering herself the third of two voices, Clarice Wynter is the contemporary romance alter ego of a multi-published paranormal and science fiction romance author. She lives in the Tri-State area with her husband and her children and a trio of cats.

To learn more about Clarice and her books visit her website and blog:

http://www.claricewynter.com/

Look for the rest of the Spring River Valley Series-to be released throughout 2013

Jilted in January

Fixed up in February

Mixed up in March

An Affair in April

Matched up in May

Jaded in June

Jealous in July

Awakened in August

Seduced in September

Outmatched in October

Naughty in November

Desired in December

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