High Stakes. Barbara Dunlop
“Come on in, the water’s fine.”
The wind picked up off the lake, bringing with it the scent of roses, as Derek slid his brother a skeptical gaze. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m perfectly happy on my own.”
“How do you know?”
Derek frowned. “What kind of a question is that?”
“When’s the last time you had a steady girlfriend?”
“Define steady.”
“Longer than eight hours.”
The frown turned to another grin. It had been a while. Which meant Derek’s life was ticking along exactly the way he liked it. “Few months. Maybe a year.”
“We need to find you a nice girl to bring home to Mom.”
Derek let out a chopped laugh at the sappy expression on Tyler’s face. “There’s nothing worse than a reformed bachelor.”
“Hey, I’m being serious here.”
“So am I. If I want a woman, I’ll find a woman. No offense, bro, but I don’t need your help on the romance front.”
Tyler snorted. “Romance? I think they’re called one-night stands.”
“And your point is…”
“My point is, you’re hanging out with the wrong kind of women.”
“Well, the right kind of woman sure isn’t going to hang out with me.”
Derek had been in Europe three times this month. He had to be in Japan on the fifth. And if he didn’t figure out a way to salvage that electronics deal they’d just lost to Hammond Electronics, he’d be drumming up wireless business in rural Brazil. He somehow suspected most nice girls would insist he spend at least half his life on the North American continent.
“You never know,” said Tyler, making a show of sizing Derek up. “They might be able to get past your looks.”
“Nice try, pretty boy.”
Tyler laughed.
“The rest of you shareholders should be grateful I’ve stayed single.”
“Why?”
“The minute I have a little woman at home, the bottom line’s going to suffer.”
Tyler clicked his teeth, shook his head and gave Derek a pitying look.
“Don’t get sarcastic with me,” said Derek. “Women dilute a man’s focus. They want him to cater to their little whims, bring home presents, talk about their feelings.”
“Not all women are like that. Jenna’s not like that.”
“Yeah? When’s the last time you two spent an evening apart?”
Tyler glanced toward the ballroom again.
“A week?” asked Derek. “A month? Anytime since the wedding?”
“It’s not because I can’t—”
“Right,” Derek drawled, knowing he’d easily won the round. Time to move the conversation along. “So while you were busy cuddling and whispering sweet nothings, did Jenna happen to say anything about the Lighthouse renovations?”
The Lighthouse Restaurant was a showpiece on the top floor of the family-owned Quayside Hotel. It was being renovated by Jenna and Candice Hammond’s company, Canna Interiors.
“She says you and Candice have been fighting again,” said Tyler.
“How could I fight with Candice? I’ve been in London for the past three days.”
“Candice obviously didn’t notice you were gone. She kept right on fighting.”
“Only way she can win,” Derek muttered.
“You do realize that you two are driving Jenna nuts.”
“So get Jenna to talk to Candice.” It wasn’t Derek’s fault that Candice was impossible.
“Candice says you’re micromanaging.”
Like hell. “I’m making sure Candice Hammond doesn’t blow three and a half million of my dollars.”
“They’re a reputable company.”
“She’s out for revenge.”
“Why?”
“Because you and I lied to them.”
“Jenna and I are happily married. Candice isn’t mad anymore.”
“She may not be mad at you, but she’s still plotting against me.”
“You’re paranoid.”
Derek took another swallow of his water. Paranoia was a highly underrated quality in a corporate executive. It had saved Derek’s ass more than once. “Just because I’m paranoid, doesn’t mean she’s not out to get me.”
“GET IT, CANDICE!” cried Jenna as Erin tossed the bridal bouquet over her head toward the middle of the Quayside ballroom.
Candice cringed when she realized it was coming in her direction. She faded to the back of the pack, vowing to thank Jenna later for calling even more attention to her single, relationship-less, dateless status. Cream-colored roses and pale orchids arced gracefully toward the domed ceiling, far above the heads of young women who’d gathered in a cluster.
That Erin had some arm on her.
Candice took another step back, then another and another. The women in front of her stretched up, their fingertips just missing the ribbon streamers as the bouquet’s trajectory brought it back toward earth.
They were all missing, turning, frowning…
Candice’s eyes widened in disbelief. Who would have thought Erin could toss that puppy thirty-five feet? Despite her efforts to avoid it, the huge bouquet zeroed in on her like radar. It plunked against her chest, and her arms automatically went around it.
Jenna dashed over from the sidelines, cheering madly in her apricot bridesmaid dress and high heels. Tiny sprigs of baby’s breath jiggled in her upswept hair. “Great catch,” she sang.
“Gee, thanks.”
Jenna laughed. “Now all we need to do is find you a man.”
Candice quickly shifted the bouquet to one hand, lowering it and tucking it behind her thigh, trying to shake the feeling that all eyes in the room were on her. Why didn’t somebody just write up a big Loser sign and paste it to her forehead?
It wasn’t that she had any particular interest in getting married. It was more that the world at large seemed to think twenty-seven was too old to be single. Like she was some kind of wrinkled spinster.
Jenna scanned the room. “Let’s see. Not too tall. Somebody with good career prospects. We want patience and a good sense of humor, since you can be—” She abruptly snapped her mouth shut.
“Since I can be what?” asked Candice, eyeing up her friend and business partner. Even wearing a satin gown and baby’s breath, Jenna still managed to look calculating.
Jenna didn’t answer.
“Are you suggesting I’m grumpy?” asked Candice.
“Testy.”
“Testy?”
The single men lined up for the garter toss, and Jenna took Candice by the arm, pulling her aside. “Only sometimes.”
Candice was more than happy to vacate center stage. She looked around for a nearby table to abandon the bouquet. If she was lucky, one of the eager, single ladies would steal it. “I’m never