Wedding Vows: Just Married. Nancy Warren
He paused for a second, then said, “I inherited the house from my mother. It’s a Federal-style town house. She recently passed.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said with ready sympathy. She couldn’t imagine life without her mother, who was both nosy and annoying and the person who loved Karen most in all the world.
“Cancer,” he said. “It was very hard.”
She heard the almost hidden quiver in his voice and impulsively reached over to lay a hand on his. Because she didn’t know what to say, she said nothing, merely offered her silent support.
After a second, he said, “My only regret is that she didn’t get to see me settled, with grandchildren. It was her dearest wish.”
“I’m sure she was very proud of you.” She searched for something else to say. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“No, I’m an only child.” And she received the impression that he’d been his mother’s pride and joy. She didn’t ask, but she suspected he’d never left home, had nursed his mother through her final illness and now, lost and alone, was trying to find a substitute.
“How about you?” he asked, obviously determined to steer clear of painful subjects.
“I’m divorced.” She didn’t think he wanted to hear the ugly details. Well, who would? So she merely said, “I’ve been single for almost five years now. I run my own wedding planning business.”
He began asking her precise and intelligent questions about her business and she felt that it was a relief to both of them to discuss something as impersonal as business.
At the end of an hour, she knew two things. One, Ron was a genuinely nice man, she suspected he was an excellent accountant, and two, she felt not the tiniest spark of attraction.
They exchanged business cards and agreed to meet for lunch one day soon. She had no idea whether either of them would follow up, but she was toying with the idea of hiring him for her business.
They shook hands at the end of their coffee date and he headed one way while she turned in the opposite direction.
She was trying to decide whether the coffee date had been a success or a disaster, when a voice hailed her, “Karen.”
She glanced up to see Chelsea standing in front of her, a canvas bag of fresh food in her arms. Beside her was her fiancé, David, loaded down with two more bags. She was struck with how good those two looked together, two tall, gorgeous people who were so clearly meant for each other you could feel their bond.
After the greetings were over, Chelsea turned to her lover and said, “David, do you see that fish market way over there?”
He glanced at his woman with slightly raised brows. “You mean the one with the long lineup?”
“That’s the one. Can you go buy six spot prawns and a pound of fresh crabmeat?”
He glanced from one woman to the other. “You wouldn’t be trying to get rid of me, so you can do the girlfriend gossip thing, would you?”
Chelsea grinned at him. “Do you want what I can whip up with six spot prawns and a pound of crabmeat or don’t you?”
With a good-natured shrug, he said, “Goodbye, Karen.” And wandered off.
“That was rude. We’ll see each other at work tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait until tomorrow. Believe me, he’ll end up happy when his dinner is served. And I have to hear about your date.”
She made a wry face. “He was really nice. A truly nice man.”
“That sounds very unpromising.”
“It’s not his fault. I wouldn’t even be doing this if it wasn’t for Dee, my darling assistant who seems to think I’m in desperate need of a man.”
“She’s young, what does she know?”
Karen snorted. “She thinks she knows more than I do. Know what I found on my desk Friday morning?”
“What?”
“A box of condoms and a note from Dee reminding me to always play it safe.”
Chelsea had the kind of full-bodied laugh that made strangers stop and grin as though just being around her made them part of the fun. “What did you do with them?”
“I put them in my desk drawer. I have everything in there from hemorrhoid cream, which is good for minimizing puffy eyes on brides and their mothers before a photo shoot, to extra nylons, shoelaces, pins, tape, flower wire, film, batteries, hair spray, you name it.”
“And now you’ve got condoms.” She leaned closer so none of the fresh fruit and veggie shoppers would overhear her. “Maybe the CPA will get to sharpen his pencil after all.”
She snorted with her own, hardly dainty laughter. “Stop it. I’m thinking of hiring him to do my books. We talked a lot about my business, it was an easy subject for both of us and he asked intelligent questions.”
“Oh, poor guy. So the date was a disaster.”
She wondered what Chelsea was planning to do with that dark green spiky stuff sticking out of her bag and decided she didn’t want to know. “No, I wouldn’t say he was a disaster, just there was no big spark, you know?”
“Oh, yeah. I know. But maybe he’s worth giving another chance, seeing as sometimes people we spark off aren’t always good for us.”
“I so agree.”
Her friend drilled her with her gaze. “Speaking of bad news and sparks, how’s Dex the Ex?”
DEXTER WAS A SUCKER for punishment. He knew it, could curse himself as much as he liked, but all the cursing didn’t stop him from pulling up in front of Karen’s office for the latest wedding planning meeting. He’d had to cut short an earlier meeting with the developers of the mixed use complex he was designing in order to be here. He’d been far more delighted to bag this project than he should have been and he suspected his level of satisfaction was related to the fact that he’d be spending a lot of time in Philadelphia for the next few months.
In missile range of the redheaded termagant he’d so foolishly married.
It wasn’t like his buddy Andrew and Sophie couldn’t have a perfectly good wedding without him playing assistant wedding planner.
And yet, here he was.
He pulled in to park in the office lot and there was Karen’s car. A surprising shot of lust pummeled him as he recalled their all-too-short time together Saturday night when her mouth had told him no even as her body shouted yes.
What was he going to do about this very inconvenient thing he still had for his ex-wife?
Until he figured that out, he supposed he was going to play assistant wedding planner.
He was a few minutes early and it didn’t look as if Sophie was here yet, but they’d booked the last possible appointment so they could both get in a day’s work. Probably she’d be here any minute.
Loosening his tie, he went into the office anyway. He glanced around but the cute British girl wasn’t at her station or anywhere in the front area of If You Can Dream It. He walked toward Karen’s office and heard her voice. He was conscious of the familiarity of that voice, the slight breathlessness that he doubted she was even aware of. His day had been successful, the client had approved the more expensive option, the one Dexter had hoped they’d go with since it was both greener and preserved the architectural integrity of the building.
There was a time he’d have rushed to tell her the good news and they’d have celebrated. Now they were