Kiss This Read online

  CHAPTER TWO

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

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

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

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

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

  He cleared his throat and nodded once.

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

  “Twenty-two.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “May I?”

  Mal hesitated and bit her lip for a moment.

  He frowned slightly. His hand never dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “I trust the artist was well paid.”

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

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

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

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

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

  “You really are expecting snow?”

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

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

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

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

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

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

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

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

  She added squiggles in the appropriate places.

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

  She drew the path they would take.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Do you know Pemberly well?”

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

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

  She took heart.

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

  He shook his head. “She told me she always wanted to get married in a little castle on a...”

  “On a lake?”

  He grimaced. “Yes.”

  “Harmony Lodge looks like a little castle. Of course, it’s nothing like the real castles you’re probably used to.” She tried not to sound snotty when she said it, but she was tired. It had just slipped out.

  “Why, Ms. Mayhue. You’re a snob!” He cocked his head and a curl fell across his brow.

  Mal’s jaw dropped. When she recovered, she realized just how close he stood. Since his chest was within reach, she had to resist the urge to poke a finger into it.

  “Sorry, Mr...”

  “Forgive me. The name is St. John—Bennett St. John.”

  Bond. James Bond. She tried not to laugh. “Mr. St. John, I’m sorry if I sound testy. I’m just a little sleep-deprived. I didn’t mean to sound snotty. I promise.”

  He took a little step closer, but she wasn’t about to retreat. Two more steps and she’d be cornered. Literally.

  “Oh, but I think you did.” He’d lowered his voice. “I think you either have a problem with authority—a complaint which afflicts most Americans—or you dislike people with means.”

  She laughed in his face. “Wow. You read all that in my tone?”

  He smiled. No answer. Just the smile. Too bad it made a little crease at one corner of his mouth. She flat out refused to think of it as a dimple.

  “Well, first of all, I don’t have a problem with authority. I’m the authority here, and I get along with myself just fine. And secondly, I don’t have a problem with money. I just can’t live without it, you know?”

  He didn’t back up. Not even an inch. If anything, he leaned toward her.

  “I wasn’t suggesting you have a problem with money but with the people who have a great deal of it. You’ve been quite petulant since the moment I arrived.”

  “Petulant? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Peevish, then?”

  “Peevish!”

  “Ass hat, Ms. Mayhue?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but her brain completely bailed on her. She couldn’t even think of a way to apologize.

  He looked at her lips. She looked at his. Holy crap, how had they ended up face to face, standing so close they could easily—

  He kissed her. Their lips came together like soft magnets. And he kept kissing her while a little rabbit in her head watched his stopwatch. The man’s lips barely moved against hers, as if there was still some invisible pull keeping them where they’d landed. Her hand lifted to his chest in an automatic reaction to push him away, but once she felt the texture of his suit coat, she snatched it back. What if she got it dirty?

  She found herself standing alone with her eyes still closed. With her lips still pursed. She blinked and stepped back, bumping into the white board and smearing the drawing with her butt. He had backed up less than a foot. His hands were still in his pockets.

  He tilted his head again, but she wasn’t about to look at him. He ducked his head to get her attention. She looked to her left. No way could she look him in the eye. There was too much blood in her head for her to think straight. She was supposed to be preserving Pemberly’s wedding plans, but she couldn’t imagine how. The entire meeting made no sense to her.

  Since it looked like he wasn’t going to say anything, she faced forward, taking great interest in his shoes as she broke the silence.

  “What now?” she asked.

  His shoes never moved. “Would you like me to apologize?”

  She shook her head. What she would like was for him to come kiss her again. Only this time, maybe he could take his hands out of his pockets. But she’d die before she’d admit it.

  Why couldn’t she have listened to London one time and worn something a little tighter—something at least flattering enough to get him to put his arms around her? But maybe Brits didn’t like to touch. It wouldn’t surprise her.

  “Well, unless you’d like me to kiss you again...”

  She looked up sharply and felt her eyes bugging out of her head.

  “No? All right, then. Let’s finish up this business, shall we?”

  “What is it you really wish to know?”

  “Honestly?”

  She nodded once. “Honestly.”

  “I am honestly curious how much profit you will make from my sister’s event.”

  Mal felt herself grow an inch or two when her spine straightened. “I’m sorry, what? You want to know what my cut is? Would you like me to scoop up horse manure after the carriages have gone, to make sure I earn every dollar?”

  She had no idea how she ended up nose to nose with him without paying attention.

  “I was just curious how you run your business, Ms. Mayhue.” He was laughing at her with his eyes again.

  “My policy—not that it’s any of your business—is to charge actual money for my labor, and for the labor of my employees. If it takes me less than fifteen minutes to arrange for horse-drawn carriages, or linens, or anything else, I don’t charge anything. The only things I do make a
profit on, Mr. St. John, are the flowers. And your sister’s wedding is mostly non-florals. I make nothing from the large tent rentals, the helicopter, the Snowcats, or any of the other contingency plans. No kickbacks. I charge enough to cover the cost of a small army to come set up. It should take about two days if we only stop for meals and a couple of hours’ of sleep.

  “Out of Pemberly’s $60,000 budget, thirty thousand of it is for flowers and décor. Out of that, London and I will make about five grand. That’s twenty-five hundred a piece. Would you like a calculator?”

  He turned away and returned to the leather chair. “Who is London?” He pulled his phone from his pocket and started pushing things, like he hadn’t heard a word she’d said, other than London’s name.

  “The co-owner of Ivy and Stone.” Mal walked over to the crappy chair and collapsed into it.

  London shouldn’t have warned her about her temper; she should have sent Mallory to set up the wedding and met with Big Brother herself. He was probably so offended he couldn’t wait to call his sister and tell her she had to find a new florist. Or maybe, if Pemberly made a fuss, he’d insist that London take over, that maybe Mal shouldn’t get within five hundred yards of him ever again.

  She wouldn’t be surprised if she had to sign her share of Ivy and Stone over to her partner before she took the company down single-handedly.

  “I need to speak with Pemberly right away.” He swiveled his chair so he faced the opposite wall. He probably couldn’t bear the sight of her. “Pemberly? I’m at Ivy and Stone and we’ve just gone over the order.” There was a pause. “Yes. Crazy. I couldn’t agree more.”

  Mal took a deep breath and prepared herself for the worst.

  “I think there is a problem, though. I know I don’t know much about wedding receptions, but...”

  Here it comes.

  “I really don’t think...you’ve ordered nearly enough flowers.”

  What did that mean? That they needed to go with a bigger florist? Well, good luck. Hope you get something amazing in your Deluxe Wedding Package B!