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
