he was, the personification of that tuxedoed dream man she and Jenny had concocted, smiling and casually sampling a deviled egg. In her dreams, Marlo’s perfect man always wore a tuxedo. That, according to her father, was her mother’s fault. Mrs. Mayfield had watched a lot of old Cary Grant movies while she was pregnant.
She could feel her heart pounding and her throat went dry. The response was so abrupt and powerful that it almost frightened her. Even when she’d discovered Jeremiah had betrayed her, her body hadn’t reacted as strongly.
Marlo considered herself generally coolheaded but this…this was the guy on the white horse, wearing the armor, rescuing her from the dragon. Suddenly the joke she and Jenny had shared all these years didn’t seem quite so funny. Of course, she’d never expected the man from her imagination to turn up before her very eyes.
“I see the housekeeper left the door open for you. Dining with Divas, I presume?” Her fantasy dreamboat stood framed in the doorway, his elegant, chiseled features lit in the golden glow of lights in the other room, his back to the richly paneled room behind him where an honest-to-goodness butler was standing as straight and still as one of the Queen’s guards.
As he stepped into the kitchen, Marlo could see more clearly the even profile and the amused grin that played on his lips. He wore his hair short, but not short enough to tame the natural curl that evidenced itself above his ears and at the nape of his neck. She gawked at the perfectly polished shoes, his strong hands and even, charming smile. Fortunately, he didn’t appear to notice.
“Your catering business has a very good reputation.” There was pleasant anticipation in his honeyed tone and his brown eyes twinkled. “I’m expecting great things tonight.”
A pleasant shiver worked its way through Marlo as she recovered from her initial shock. Granted, this fellow looked like her dream man, but there was much more to her idea of the perfect mate than looks. She’d dated handsome men in the past and learned that the hard way. In fact, the most handsome man she’d ever loved had hurt her the most.
He looked at the women’s dumbstruck expressions and smiled more widely still, his white, even smile appearing more amused than apologetic. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jake Hammond. I’m part-owner of Hammond Stables. You’re catering a get-together for some of our clients tonight.”
“Stables?” Lucy’s round, ingenuous face looked confused. “I thought someone from a place called HMD set up this engagement.”
“HMD is Hammond, Mercer and Devins, an architectural firm. That’s my day job. Hammond Stables is my hobby.”
Horses, Marlo knew, were a hobby like sailing in the America’s Cup—neither easy nor cheap.
He eyeballed a plate of Marlo’s specialty, a hot artichoke dip, picked up a cracker and a knife and took a sample. Marlo watched raptly, glad she hadn’t been skimpy with the artichokes. Who knew her hot artichoke dip would pass through the lips of an Adonis like this?
She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. As an incurable romantic, enthralled with those Cinderella fairy tales even into her teens, Marlo had sketched dreamy renditions of a guy like this all over her high-school notebooks. And now here he was, come to life and eating her artichoke dip. Appreciates fine food. Check. It didn’t get much better than this. He probably even smelled like oatmeal-raisin cookies.
“I-is there anything else you’d like us to do right now?” she stammered.
“You’re doing just fine.” He winked and Marlo’s knees nearly liquefied. That debonair look combined with a playful smile, shades of North by Northwest and To Catch a Thief. “And no doubt you’ll be as glad as I will to have this stuffy event over.”
He’s so handsome it should be illegal, she thought grumpily. Somebody should be prosecuted for looking like that, running around giving women heart attacks and all. Still, she didn’t draw her gaze away.
“Jake, darling? What are you doing in the kitchen? The guests are arriving.” A beautiful blonde woman in an strapless, emerald silk taffeta dress rustled into the room. Her skin was flawless porcelain and her lips full and pouty. She appeared coy, brazen and petulant all at once. “Your father, grandfather and his friends are looking for you. The Hammond triumvirate is to gather in the hall to welcome guests.”
She looked at Lucy and Marlo, in their black-and-white serving clothes and sensible shoes. “You hired these people to take care of things. Now let them.”
At first Hammond didn’t seem inclined to jump to the beauty’s bidding, but then thought better of it, and with a generous smile at Marlo and Lucy, he turned and held out his hand. The young blonde curled herself kittenishly around his arm as they walked out of the kitchen and returned to the party.
“He’s too good-looking to be real,” Lucy said, sinking into a chair. “I’ll bet he’s a hologram or something.”
“You watch too much TV.”
“Too bad he’s taken.” She looked slyly at Marlo. “You aren’t seeing anyone right now. Unfortunately, that blonde had her paws all over him.”
“They make a lovely couple.”
“He’d be perfect for you. I wish you’d start dating again. You are simply too fussy about men. Charlie was a nice guy.” Lucy scowled. “Maybe it’s that dumb list of yours.”
Lucy referred to Marlo’s latest ex-flame. Marlo felt no regret at encouraging Charlie to date other women or the fact that he’d actually become engaged to one of them. They would never have made it as a couple.
He’d gone to church with her. He’d attended Bible study with her. But he’d been going only to please her. None of it meant much to him—other than the fact it was a way to make points with her. That didn’t work for Marlo. Charlie needed to do those things for himself, and until he did they couldn’t be on the same wavelength. If the spiritual connection wasn’t in place, then a romantic relationship wouldn’t work either. Sincere, active faith was the first item on the Cinderella List, and there would be no negotiation there. When she checked that item off her list, it had to be for real.
“Charlie needs to have his own relationship with God. I’m not a proxy who can do it for him.”
“At least you aren’t like most of the single women I know.” Lucy plucked a stray radish from a plate of crudités. “You don’t talk nonstop about your biological clock.”
“Unfortunately, I think mine ran out of batteries, got unplugged or something. I wish I could find a man who could jump-start it for me.”
“You probably have Jeremiah Cole to thank for that.”
Tall, blond, tan, rugged in a surfer sort of way, he’d swept her off her feet the first time they met. She only found out later that he, with his compelling green eyes and smooth words, had a way of sweeping many women off their feet.
It had been a dreadful time. Marlo had been planning her own fairy-tale wedding—and might even have gone through with it, had she not caught her fiancé and his “other woman” in a cozy tête-à-tête in a downtown hotel restaurant. She knew for sure what it felt like to have a broken heart—one shattered like a piece of brittle glass.
Marlo despised revisiting that time in her life, but it was impossible to avoid sometimes, especially when
