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“So January?” She returned her gaze to Julia. She was going to be an easy bride. Grace could already tell. None of the barely suppressed nerves or the tightly wound personality that some of her brides had.
They discussed a few options. Day or evening. Hotel or private venue. Indoor, outdoor or a mix of both. The number of guests. Their proposed budget made it clear that money wasn’t going to be an issue. No, any difficulties were going to come from availability and desire. Grace flicked another glance at Owen, who hadn’t added much to the discussion. He’d just sat there.
She felt the burn rise back up her cheeks when she saw he was looking at her and closed her leather notebook with a delicate flip. “I think we’ve got a good start.” She started a new book for each wedding she planned, filling the pages with notes and pictures on anything and everything. The wedding party, engagement parties, photographers, the dress, the food, every detail that might arise and plenty that didn’t.
Grace’s business offered full-service wedding-planning services and that meant she handled everything no matter how big or small. Though she’d started her own business just four years ago, she’d been in the industry for nine, honing her skills at larger, more established event-planning companies before branching out on her own. She’d already carved out a niche. The wedding planner for those who wanted style and class, traditional elegance.
She was expensive, but then so were her results. But her clients got what they paid for. Every detail was exquisite, every movement planned and prepared so that the whole day was a magical experience.
“I’ll come up with some prospective plans and send them to you and your fiancé. Perhaps we can schedule another meeting next week to discuss them?” Grace liked to move quickly. Although winter weddings weren’t nearly as popular as summer or spring, the best locations always booked up quickly and often months or years ahead of time. She didn’t want to get caught flat-footed on what was sure to be one of the biggest weddings of the season.
She’d manage the media attention, too. She had contacts at the papers, reporters who would be all too happy to feature a pair of local celebrities and their splashy event. Or she could bar them, keeping photos and attention directed elsewhere to allow the bride and groom privacy.
“And please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you,” Grace said. She’d learned over the years that keeping in regular contact with her clients was the best way to manage any surprises. This way there were no last-minute bombs dropped that she couldn’t negotiate.
“Absolutely.” Julia stood, pushing her dark hair off her shoulder. “Thank you so much, Grace. I’m really looking forward to this.”
Grace was, too. Not just the wedding day, but the deeper meaning behind it. Grace could always tell which brides were about playing princess and had been planning their wedding since they were six and which were motivated not by the ceremony, but the future it represented.
She smiled, feeling Julia’s happiness wash over her. This was why she did it. To know that she had a hand in creating a happy day that would hopefully lead to a long and happy future. A future she wanted for herself. And one she planned to start working toward now that her business was more secure and didn’t require her to work quite so many extra hours.
“I’ll see you out.” Grace was conscientious about not excluding Owen from the conversation, much as she might like to. She led them down her “hall of fame,” where she displayed the photos from her favorite events, walking slowly, allowing them to pause and study the black-and-white prints. The reaction often gave her a solid base from which to start.
Did the bride halt in front of garden photos or rocky cliffs? Did her eyes widen at the clean lines of a regimented wedding party or the scattered cluster of bodies? The photos often gave the couple ideas, as well. Most times, they specifically referred to a photo or two during their second meeting.
Grace noted Julia’s pauses, the hesitation by the cityscapes. Rooftop patios with the buildings laid out below them. Night shots where the streetlights twinkled in the distance. Good. Very good.
But she didn’t feel quite so good when she glanced at Owen. His eyes were on her rather than the pictures. Grace swallowed and kept her gait steady.
She didn’t expect him to study them. Not exactly. He likely would have no say in the choices made, but she didn’t expect him to gawk at her, either. She longed to fiddle with the cuff of her suit jacket or straighten her skirt, but that would betray the uncertainty writhing within her and she wouldn’t do that.
Instead, she took long, slow breaths, the way she’d learned in her Pilates class. The deep and full inhalation and the complete exhalation. It was meant to cleanse and invigorate and Grace generally found this to be true when she was in class. The long, lean bodies stretched around her, each of them working to reach the same goal. But now, she just felt light-headed.
She was glad when they reached the lobby and the safety it provided with both her new hire, Hayley, and the front door.
“Grace, thank you again.” Julia turned with a warm smile and took Grace’s hands in hers. It didn’t surprise Grace, the extra touching. She made connections with her clients—they were entrusting her with one of the most important days of their lives and a connection was natural. But Julia’s sincerity did.
“It’s a pleasure.” Which was pretty much what she said to all her clients, but this time she meant it. “I’ll be in touch by the end of the week.”
But while Julia moved toward the frosted-glass front door that led out to the sidewalk, Owen didn’t follow. Grace felt her molars clamp together, but she made certain there was no other physical indication of her unsettledness. “Mr. Ford? Is there something I can assist you with?”
“I think I forgot something in the boardroom.”
Grace held her tongue. Waspishly asking what that could possibly be wouldn’t win her any points. Not with him, not with Julia, not with Hayley and not with herself. “Of course. I’ll show you back.”
“You go on ahead, Jules,” Owen said to his sister-in-law with a friendly wave. “And tell Donovan he owes me.”
Julia laughed as she pushed the door open and stepped out into the summer afternoon, but Grace didn’t feel like laughing. Or smiling. Exactly what was he on about now? She knew he hadn’t forgotten anything. He hadn’t been carrying anything when he’d arrived and he’d placed nothing on the table or the chair.
It embarrassed Grace that she knew this with such certainty as it meant she’d been watching him, paying close attention even when she hadn’t wanted to. “Exactly what are we looking for?” she asked as they walked back down the hallway to the boardroom.
He didn’t answer until she pushed open the door and he followed her inside. Grace had always loved her boardroom. The round, shiny table, the padded chairs that had been selected for comfort as well as style, the dove-gray walls and crystal chandelier. It wasn’t large because it didn’t need to be. Grace didn’t have a board of directors and she saw no need for more than eight people to ever be in the room at one time. Any more than that and it meant there were too many voices, too many opinions—usually from everyone other than the couple getting married, which was something she tried to avoid.
But right now, the room felt too compact. Too small. Too full of Owen Ford.
“I didn’t forget anything.”
Grace’s toes curled in the points of her high-heeled shoes. She’d known that, but she hadn’t expected him to come right out with it. No, she’d expected a staged search that would end when he suddenly “remembered” that he hadn’t brought along whatever item he’d pretended to leave behind with him in the first place. She moved across the room to straighten the line of water glasses that were slightly off. “Was there something else, then?”
“Yes.” He moved toward her, all warm intent and male conceit.
Grace felt the unwelcome response of her own body. The tug of heat, the whip of interest and the curiosity that flooded her system. She forced herself to hold her ground, not to back up until she bumped into the wall. There was no need to give him the high ground, moral or otherwise. They were in her space. She was in control. She left the glasses—those could be straightened later—and crossed her arms over her chest, stopping him in his tracks. “What is it you want, Mr. Ford?”
“Well, first, I’d like you to call me Owen.” He grinned, a charming, rakish grin that Grace had little doubt got him what he wanted most of the time. “And second, I’d like you to go out with me.”
She didn’t need time to consider her answer. “No.”
“Is that a no to question one or question two?”
“To both.” She didn’t smile or waver. It would only egg him on and she had a feeling Owen would be a handful without any encouragement.
“Now, why is that?” He took another step forward.
He was crowding her, even though he was too far away to touch. “As I’ve already explained, I don’t fraternize with my clients.”
“I’m not a client.”
Grace didn’t bother to correct him, didn’t want to engage him any more than was absolutely necessary. “Is there anything else, Mr. Ford?”
Owen didn’t say anything, but tilted his head and studied her. Grace felt like a bug under a magnifying glass, which had been a favorite pastime of her brother’s growing up until her mother caught him at it and gave him a lecture on respecting the life of all Earth’s creatures.
But if Owen thought she’d flounder, scrabble away or otherwise panic, he was wrong. She did what those little bugs never had—remained completely still and let him look. She knew she looked presentable and put together. She prided herself on it. Not a hair out of place, with understated and expensive jewelry, and artfully applied makeup. He’d find nothing there.
“I can’t quite figure you out,” he finally said.
“I’m not a puzzle.”
Owen shrugged. “And yet I find you puzzling.”
Grace had no doubt he’d used this line before. But she was made of stronger stuff. He was handsome and clearly comfortable in his own skin, but that was hardly enough. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to remain one of life’s little mysteries. I’ll show you out.”
She moved to step around him. He moved with her, their arms brushing. Grace felt his heat through the thin material of her suit jacket and was glad she’d left it on. “Maybe we could go for coffee,” Owen suggested as she led him out of the boardroom and back into the hallway.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“And why’s that?”
“Mr. Ford.” She leveled a cool look at him as they walked. “As I’ve explained twice, I keep my personal and professional lives separate.”
“I’m not part of your business.”
“You’re in my office as part of a wedding I’ve been hired to plan.” Grace walked a little faster.
“That my brother and sister-in-law hired you for.” He kept up easily, his flip-flops slapping against the soles of his feet. Grace hated the sound, the loud smack disturbing the quiet hush of the space. “I don’t have anything to do with it.”
“You’re family. That makes you a client by association.”
“What about if I file for emancipation? My parents will be devastated, but they’ll understand when they meet you.”
Grace tried not to laugh. She really did, but Owen’s playful nature and silly banter finally got to her. She felt the corners of her mouth curl up. “Fine, Mr. Ford. If you file for emancipation, we’ll go for that coffee.” She pushed open the door that led to the lobby. “Otherwise? I’ll look forward to seeing you at the wedding.”
He followed her into the quiet space, where the only sound was the click of Hayley’s keyboard as she entered files into the system. “I’ll look forward to it, too.”
Grace turned to look at him and felt a pulse of attraction. His dark eyes, dark hair that flopped over his forehead and mischievous grin. Her throat felt dry and she wished she’d taken a glass of water from the boardroom. Oh well. As soon as she got rid of him, she could chug a bottle in the privacy of her office. She was determined to do so immediately. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Ford.”
His fingers, warm and thick, wrapped around hers. Grace felt another shaft of desire, followed by a stern reminder that Owen Ford wasn’t her type even if he hadn’t been off-limits.
She preferred slender, elegant men. Men who wore suits to work and most certainly to business meetings. Men who worked in corner offices, many stories off the ground, and had a closet full of shoes in black and brown. Men who didn’t hold her hand a little too long and didn’t make her feel too warm in her suit.
“The pleasure has been all mine, Ms. Monroe.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a dry and gentle peck to the back. “Until then.”
And she certainly didn’t like men who kissed her without asking.
Heart pumping, Grace watched him leave and then spun on her heel and made for the safety of her office and the cooling comfort of a bottle of water or three.
CHAPTER THREE
“I’M AFRAID I must have misheard you.” Owen pretended to tap his ear as though clearing it of water. “You want to repeat that?”
It was Saturday night and Elephants was packed. He was pleased that his initiatives continued to bring people in the door, even if it was in the form of his only sister. Mal merely stared back. “I need you to plan an engagement party for Donovan and Julia.” She said this with a straight face as though it wasn’t the funniest thing in the world.
Since Mal hadn’t been in much of a laughing mood these past few months, Owen did it for her. “Right.”
“I’m not kidding.” Mal pinned him with her patented bratty-kid-sister stare. “Mom and I discussed it.”
“Oh, did you? And what other parts of my life did the two of you plan?” He was only half joking.
“Owen, you’re the best man. Consider it part of your duties.” Owen still wasn’t sure how he’d been roped into being the best man. Sure, he and Donovan were getting along better than they had been a year ago, but they were hardly close. He suspected Julia—who he considered a good friend—and his mother and sister were all conspiring to bring them closer together.
“No, my duty is to plan the bachelor party, ensure Donovan doesn’t freak out last-minute and get cold feet, and make sure I show up on time and in my tux.” And find the sexiest woman at the reception and see if she’d consider going home with him. Though really, that was just being humble. More likely, he’d be the one getting propositioned, which suited him just fine.
Despite her little bomb, Owen was glad to see Mal out on a Saturday night. Since her breakup with her boyfriend a few months ago, she hadn’t been herself. Owen wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, since she wasn’t talking and neither was Travis. Not even when Owen had gone down to Aruba, where Travis now lived, for a visit and asked him point-blank. All either of them would say was that things hadn’t worked out, but Owen noted neither of them had exactly moved on.
“Well, consider the engagement party an added bonus.”
“Bonus for who?” Owen grumbled.
Mal patted him on the shoulder. “For you. Think of it like planning for your own future.”
He snorted again. “I’m not even dating anyone. Kind of a prerequisite.”
“Good. Then you’ll have plenty of free time to plan the engagement party.”
“You know, I think I liked it better when you stayed home on Saturday nights.”
Mal’s hand dropped, as did her head. Owen saw her hands clench in her lap. “You aren’t the only one.”
“Hey.” He reached out and put his arm around her shoulders. He and Mal had always had an easy relationship. Even before she’d started dating one of his closest friends. “I wasn’t serious. You know I love having you here.”
But Mal only sighed.
Owen turned to look at his sister. She’d always been thin, but these days she seemed downright emaciated. Not that he could say anything about it to her. The one time he’d joked that she should eat a sandwich, she’d about taken his head off. Still, despite her extreme thinness, Mal was a good-looking woman. Owen noted the interested glances that were coming her way even if she didn’t. “You okay?”
She sighed again. “Not really, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
She never did. But since Owen wasn’t sure how it would help to force her into discussing the problem, he didn’t push. “If you change your mind...” He left the sentence hanging.
“I know. You, Donovan, Mom and Dad, even Julia the last time I saw her.” Mal sat up, shrugging off his arm. “But I’m fine, really. I’m just adjusting. That’s all.”
Owen didn’t point out that she’d had months to adjust and still hadn’t managed it. If Mal wanted to think she was fooling him, he’d let her. Maybe she’d eventually fool herself and get back to the Mal he knew. “So, how exactly did you and Mom come to the conclusion that I needed to organize the engagement party? Isn’t that something the parents of the groom should do? Or the sister?”
“No.” And some of the tension slid from Mal’s face at the change of subject. At least, the lines around her mouth didn’t look so prominent. “Plus, Mom already tried to pawn it off on me, which is how your name came up.”
“You threw me under the bus.”
“That’s such a cliché. I prefer to think of it as giving you a gift.”
Owen shook his head. “A gift? Please, more like an obligation.” One he didn’t know how to get out of. If Mal and his mother had already joined forces? Game, set and match.
“Oh, I don’t know. Julia mentioned how interested you seemed in the wedding planner.” Mal shot him a smirk.
Owen picked up the water bottle he was drinking from and rolled it back and forth between his palms. He wasn’t embarrassed to have been caught out. He hadn’t exactly been subtle about his appreciation for the cool Grace Monroe. But she’d been pretty clear that even if she found him appealing, nothing would come of it. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, but for the record, she wasn’t interested.”
“You didn’t think you’d have to plan the party on your own, did you?” Mal rolled her eyes. “You’d be working with her. Just think—the two of you could join forces. Maybe spend some late nights during the planning stages.”
Owen wasn’t fooled. “Don’t try to distract me. I won’t forget that you used me as a shield.” But he certainly wouldn’t mind the excuse to see Grace—ahem, Ms. Monroe—again. “You don’t care about my dating life. You just don’t want to have to plan it yourself.”
“I see no reason that I can’t care about both things.” And for a moment, with her little smirk and sassy tone, Owen saw the sister he knew. Then it was gone, replaced with something quiet and a little sad. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Owen. But I don’t think I can do it.”
He looked into her eyes to see if she was trying to trick him. Mal would be fully capable of letting a fib trip right off her tongue with no body language to indicate anything but the deepest sincerity, but her eyes always gave her away. A combination of fear, shame and a deep pain stared back at him. Owen felt it in his own stomach.
“It’s just...too close.”
Too close because up until earlier this year, Mal had been the engaged Ford sibling, the one who’d be wedding-planning and holding the ceremony on a beach in Aruba in the near future. But when their father had had his heart attack, everything had changed.
It had changed for all of them. Donovan took over running the company, while Owen began to pay more attention to work instead of treating it like a fun place to hang out in the evening for a few hours and collect a paycheck. But Mal had uprooted her life in Aruba and moved back to Vancouver. Sold her stake in the beach restaurant to Travis and come back to work for the family business.
“Fine. I’ll do it.” Owen huffed out a breath, putting on a show of being put out because he thought Mal needed it. Needed to feel as though things were normal, that her older brother still found her an annoying pest and loved her anyway. They’d all been careful with Mal over the past few months. Doing their best not to upset her, tiptoeing around the question of what had happened between her and Travis because even when it came up indirectly, she got visibly upset. But that clearly wasn’t working and Owen wasn’t about to dump Travis as a friend without cause. “But this means you owe me.”
“I got you alone time with the wedding planner. Consider yourself paid in full.”
“Not enough.” He crossed his arms over his chest and put on his I’m-older-and-know-better-than-you look. “Tell me what’s going on with Travis.”
Mal’s lips pursed and her glare could have melted plastic. Good thing Owen was immune to it, seeing as she’d been using it on him since they were kids. “Nothing is going on.”
Semantics. Owen recognized her answer for the dodge it was, but he wasn’t about to let her use a loophole to get out of this. “Maybe nothing’s going on now, but something happened earlier. Tell me.”
“No.”
“Mal.”
“Drop it, Owen.” And there was sorrow as well as anger in her gaze. “I’m not discussing it.”
Owen drummed his fingers on his water bottle and then shrugged. “Fine. But if you won’t tell me, then I can’t console you with free alcohol and ice cream.”
Mal’s look was withering. “You think I can’t comp myself?”
Owen shrugged again. “I’m the manager here. They do what I say.”
“And you’d tell them not to serve me?” When he nodded, his sister’s eyes narrowed. Owen was glad to see it. At least she wasn’t going to curl up in a ball or slink away the way she would have done a couple of months earlier. Progress. “You’d starve your only sister?”
“I’d do whatever I had to if I thought it would help.”
Her face softened and she reached out to lay a hand on his arm. “I appreciate it, Owen. But I’m okay.”
He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he nodded agreeably. He preferred compromise to conflict. “All right, then. Tell me what I need to know about this party. I’m sure you have some ideas.”
This time, Mal’s smile reached her eyes. “I’m so glad you asked.”
* * *
OWEN CALLED GRACE Sunday morning. A woman like her would spend her Monday morning returning phone calls in order and he hoped to be one of the first. Perhaps he could convince her to go out with him yet. A business meeting. Over lunch. Totally aboveboard.
He was surprised when she answered.
“Grace Monroe.”
But he recovered quickly. “Grace. It’s Owen Ford.”
“Mr. Ford.” He was pretty sure he heard a sigh in her voice, but it was immediately replaced with cool professionalism. “What can I help you with?”
“A party. I need to plan one.”
There was a brief pause. “You’re aware that I specialize in weddings? But I’m happy to send you the names of some other planners in the city who can help. What kind of budget do you have?”
“It’s not for me. An engagement party for Donovan and Julia.” Owen had attended his fair share of parties over the years. More than his fair share and even hosted some. But a couple of blowouts when he’d been in high school, a kegger in his parents’ backyard before he’d told them that he’d officially dropped out of university and a housewarming when he’d bought his apartment that had turned into forty-eight hours of drinks and debauchery weren’t exactly going to cut it. “I’d like to hire you to help.”
Grace exhaled. Owen heard the slow escape of air. “You’ve already hired me, Mr. Ford. I can certainly add the engagement party to the wedding portfolio.”
“No, it’s a surprise.” Another little gem Mal had informed him of once he’d committed to organizing it. He heard the rustling of paper, imagined Grace flipping through a sheaf of them at her desk. “You aren’t at the office, are you?”
“I’m not sure how that concerns you, but yes, I am.”