He kissed her on the steps of the Baker House, with almost all the world sleeping around them. The college kids had finally quieted down the street. Far away, the sound of cars crossing the drawbridge over the Ashley River—clack, clack, clack—made a soothing background noise. His lips were warm and perfect on hers—hard, manly, his finesse wreaking havoc with her libido. She was in good hands. Very, very good hands. But the best part was being cocooned in his embrace. She loved the togetherness, the feeling of wanting someone so much.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that, how much was inside her that she was holding on to, things she wanted to share, both good and bad. She’d been working so hard, and she craved being held and made love to so that everything she didn’t quite understand about life could float away.
She wanted the comfort and certainty of knowing all she needed to know … at least for a little while.
When he dropped down a step and looked at his watch, her heart sank. “It’s killing me to leave.” He shot her a handsome grin, but it was tired, too. “It’s half past eleven, and at four in the morning, I have to be awake to FaceTime a gallery in Manchester. They have a buyer coming in who’s interested in a series I painted last year.”
She released a breath. “We both lead complicated lives. It’s best that we just … stay friends.”
“It’s true I can’t see myself sleeping with anyone—even someone as beautiful and desirable as you,” he said, “the same day I find out I might be a father. I want to be respectful of the news and of her, even though we’re no longer together.”
“That makes total sense,” Greer said. “In fact, I admire that. Are you”—should she ask?—“are you still in love with her?”
“No. Which makes this all the more complicated if I’m the dad.”
She sighed. “This is heavy stuff.”
“But life goes on.” He grinned. “What are your plans tomorrow? Can we get started on sketches?”
“I’m running the office alone tomorrow, but the girls will be back from L.A. tomorrow night. And I might be busy fighting Pierre to stay in the contest. If he doesn’t throw me out and I can bring someone to the cocktail party tomorrow night, are you in?”
“I’m in for as long as you need backup. It’s only fair. But we need to start sketches by at least the day after tomorrow.”
“Fine. We’ll make it work.”
“Cheers.”
“See you.”
She watched him cross the street. He looked back at her from the opposite corner and waved. She smiled, feeling wan inside—lovesick, almost, which was impossible this soon—and waved back.
She took the elevator up to her apartment. Her stomach dropped as it ascended. But she knew it was more than just the elevator. She had a crush. Already. On a stranger. And she’d been willing to sleep with him on the first day she’d met him.
What had happened to cool, logical Greer Jones?
When she got to her apartment, she threw her purse on her bed and let out a massive sigh. What an incredibly long, strange day it had been. Maybe that accounted for her falling for Ford … she’d entered a contest to win a wedding dress when she didn’t have a groom. And Miss Thing had won a veritable fortune! She’d also seen Wesley—which was a huge shock—and was more glad than ever that they’d broken up.
But the most interesting thing was that she’d met this really awesome guy who was unavailable.
Unavailable.
She could see the word in big letters across a picture of Ford in her mind. Or should she say, she was unavailable? Because, of course, she didn’t want to get involved with a man with such complex personal issues. Becoming a father was a big deal, and who knew how parenthood would change his relationship with his ex. Greer wasn’t going to touch that situation with a ten-foot pole.
At the most, they could have fun, provide each other some temporary stress relief, and help each other reach a special goal. But that was all.
“Let’s hope tomorrow is much more calm,” she said to Fern when she snuggled under her covers.
Fern was her twelve-year-old Boston fern who sat on a table beneath her bedroom window. She was the best listener Greer had ever known.
* * *
But the next day was just as hectic. Greer worked all through the morning and afternoon, putting out fires at work, mainly two clients who were unsure how to handle their fourth date with each other. Should they or should they not sleep together? Both of them really wanted to, but would it jinx them? Things had been going so well!
“I’m afraid she’ll start expecting a ring any day,” the guy told Greer. “I like her a lot, but I’m not sure how far I want to take this. I’ll never know until I sleep with her, though. What’s a guy to do?”
“I’m worried he’ll get bored with me once we make love,” the woman said, “and I don’t want him to. I really like him.”
Greer talked them both through it separately on the phone.
The woman cried a little. “I-I’d love to have sex with him. I have needs, too! But whenever I go that route too soon, my dates never call me back afterward!”
“She’s hot, and sex between consenting adults is never a bad thing, is it?” he asked.
The guy got defensive when Greer reminded him that Two Love Lane was all about connecting people with their soul mates, not hook-ups. “A nice guy like you is going to miss out on fantastic women if you push too hard to have sex too soon,” she told him.
“But—”
“No buts. Are you looking for true love or a fling? Be honest. Because you need to get off the Two Love Lane bus if our long-term mission here doesn’t suit you.”
And the woman didn’t like it when Greer said, “Maybe it’s time to be more assertive and honest with your dates. Tell them you’ve been hurt before, and if they can’t hang on a while before having sex with you, then you might as well call it a day.”
“But what if they walk?”
“Then they walk,” Greer said. “And you’re better off. It’s a good measuring stick of a guy’s intentions.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“I’m only reflecting back things you’ve expressed to me but are afraid to say to your dates. Time to saddle up and take the reins.”
She couldn’t wait to hear what happened. It was such a waiting game. It was hard to have patience. She was always so concerned about her clients and had to work hard not to get too personally involved. But it was true, when one of their hearts broke, hers did, too. And when they fell in love, well, she was walking on air right along with them.
The internet was down at Two Love Lane, too, that day—some sort of wi-fi issue. Then at four P.M. she raced to the airport to pick up Macy, Ella, and Miss Thing. She still hadn’t heard from Pierre, so she assumed she was welcome to go to the cocktail party.
Macy, Ella, and Miss Thing shrieked when they saw her—they were in one of their three sets of Price Is Right T-shirts—and they all fell into a big huddle. It took them a good five minutes to remember to walk to the baggage claim area. Greer told them on the way over about the contest.
They all stopped again so they could laugh. Miss Thing couldn’t stop repeating, “I told you to do something crazy. I told you.”
“Well, I did,” said Greer.
“I think this whole ‘no partner’ strategy is an unusual but possibly effective way to get things moving for you romantically,” said Macy.
“You sound like me,” Greer said.
“Macy’s right,” Ella said. “Especially now that Wesley’s going to be here for a whole year. You need some major distractions.”
“Dang tootin’,” said Miss Thing.
“What will you wear tonight? Will any press be there?” Ella asked.
“I’m not sure,” Greer said. “Not that—”
“How many people off the streets do you think will come?” Macy interrupted her. “Was it advertised in the paper?”
“I have no—”
“Did Pierre really get twenty future brides to participate?” Miss Thing asked.
“I—”
“Are you sure it’s not a prank?” Ella asked.
“Part of me wondered.” Greer basked in the sudden silence. “I mean, Pierre himself told me he bought the dress to keep it from me. He sure is going to great lengths to give it away, don’t you think?”
“His resentments tend to run deep,” said Macy. “His family’s always been that way.”
“I don’t trust him,” said Ella.
“Neither do I,” said Miss Thing. “But you’ll go to the cocktail party tonight. You won’t let him intimidate you.”
“No, I won’t,” said Greer. “Will you guys come with?”
“Of course,” her best friends said together.
“Sometimes it feels like we’re the Mouseketeers,” Greer said.
“I never saw that show,” said Ella.
“Me, neither,” said Macy.
“Neither did I,” said Greer.
Miss Thing rolled her eyes. “You all are lame. That was a great show. Ask Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake. And a generation before them, Annette Funicello.”
They turned around and saw they were the only people left at the baggage claim. All their suitcases were spinning around it. Greer’s life had felt like that for a while, and she hadn’t even noticed. But she wasn’t going in circles anymore. She’d found some direction beyond her goals as a matchmaker. She was going to start working on herself again and not let guilt about Wesley hold her back.
“Ready, ladies?” she asked, and grabbed Miss Thing’s large royal purple suitcase.
“The question is, is Pierre Simons ready for the ladies of Two Love Lane?” Macy chuckled.
“Oh, and there’s this guy who might be coming with me tonight, too,” said Greer. “So I might have to meet you at the Dewberry.”
Miss Thing perked up even more than usual. “Guy?”
And until Greer dropped off all three of her friends at their respective homes downtown, she wasn’t allowed to stop talking about Ford Smith, English painter. She told her friends almost everything that had happened between them.
“You’re posing for him?” Miss Thing put her hand on her heart. “Lord, I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Me, too,” said Ella. “It’s so romantic.”
“You’re such a boss, Greer,” Macy said. “Look at all you did while we were gone. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Greer was proud of herself. She’d surprised her friends. That was a good thing. But there was one thing she’d left out. “Ford might be the father of twins. He won’t know until they’re born. His ex is pregnant. So please don’t go getting absurd daydreams about us getting together.”
They were suitably surprised and, she could tell, disappointed.
“Well, that’s all right,” Miss Thing said. “Maybe he’s not the father.”
Greer shrugged. “We won’t know for a long time. Meanwhile, he plans on staying a part of his ex’s life while she navigates this pregnancy. I’m not really interested in getting involved. That’s a serious situation, and who knows if they still have feelings for each other. It was an ugly break-up, but you never know.”
“It’s smart to stay a little removed,” said Macy.
After Greer dropped them off, she could focus on the fact she had to surprise Pierre by actually showing up that night at the Dewberry Hotel. She bet he thought she’d back down.
And then she had another bad feeling. She pulled her phone out of her purse and saw she had a message. Of course, from Pierre: Hello, Miss Future Bride, he wrote. Looking forward to seeing you tonight—if you’re brave enough.…
We can always try to find you a match again, she wrote him back. Wouldn’t that be easier than going through all this revenge stuff? It must have cost a fortune to rent the Dewberry ballroom.
Hah, he wrote. And lose my momentum? Don’t think I came up with La Di Da Bridal because of you and your obsession with Royal Bliss! We’ve needed something fresh at the store for a long time.
He always wanted the last word.
Charleston was full of eccentric people. Friends who didn’t live there simply didn’t believe her. All they saw were glossy magazines depicting the sophistication of the city. Well, it turned out that some of the most cultured residents were also the strangest, but they prized their quirks, the way most people prize their good reputations. Or gold.
Their eccentric habits made these people who they were. Pierre was a Simons, and Macy had told her Simons folk took revenge and didn’t give a hoot how they came across to anyone. They were rich and well-established and God help anyone who challenged them. They had the resources at their beck-and-call to run a small international war, if they wanted to.
Oh, well. Greer was their latest enemy. Nothing to do about it but put up her dukes and fight back.