Susan Mallery - You Say It First

“She’s having to make do with the horses we have,” Pallas continued. “The linens were easy, as were the flowers.”

“Black roses?” Silver asked drily.

“White flowers with black vases.”

“Are you going to make a black cocktail?” Carol asked Silver. “There are a lot of white drinks, but black ones?”

“I have some ideas. We’ve been emailing.” Silver grinned. “You owe me, Pallas. I’ve steered her away from some of her more outrageous ideas.”

“Then I owe you forever.”

Violet pulled a small cloth bag out of her quilted jacket pocket.

Carol sighed. “Seriously? Again?”

“They’re beautiful,” her sister told her. “And it’s interesting.”

“Only to you.”

Pallas secretly agreed with Carol. She loved Violet and appreciated the other woman’s ideas and help with the costumes, but Violet was obsessed—with buttons. Not just any buttons. Antique ones. The older and more ornate, the better. Even more scary—she actually made money selling them to designers around the world. Violet was known to be a great button dealer—if that was the description for what she did. She had contacts everywhere. Mostly elderly women who went into family attics and flea markets where they bought buttons on her behalf.

Violet opened the bag and turned it upside down. Eight glittering buttons rolled onto her palm. They were deep blue and edged in gold.

Wynn leaned closer. “Oh my God! Are those sapphires?”

“Uh-huh, surrounded by eighteen karat gold.” She smiled impishly at her sister. “See. My buttons are fun.”

“If you say so.”

Pallas chuckled. “I’m going to put the quiches in the oven. I’ll be right back.”

She headed for her kitchen. Natalie came with her. “Can I help?”

“You can keep me company.”

“I’m good at that.”

Pallas set the small quiches on a cookie sheet, then set the tray in the oven. She leaned back against the counter.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Natalie nodded. “Of course. What?”

Pallas hesitated. “Nick Mitchell is working for me. He’s restoring those wood panels we use for backdrops. They’re in pretty bad shape.” She raised a shoulder. “I looked him up online and he’s this gifted, successful artist. I’m not sure why he’s helping me out. I’m not paying much and this is way beneath his abilities.”

Natalie grinned. “You do realize you didn’t actually ask a question.”

“I’m not sure what it would be. I guess I want to know if I should be worried or something.”

“You shouldn’t. I don’t know Nick very well, but I’ve known his brothers a couple of years now and they’re both good guys. Crazy artists, but decent men. As for Nick being better than the project—if he doesn’t think so, I would say go with it. I’ve seen Mathias spend two days on a vase that will sell for fifty dollars because he needs to get it exactly how he wants it, and don’t get me started on Ronan. Talk about a guy who needs to chill out. They take pride in their work, and when something captures their attention, they’re all in.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

As they walked back out to the patio, Pallas told herself she would do as Natalie suggested—in other words, shut up and be grateful. She smiled to herself. She was very lucky when it came to her friends. They were there for her and kept her grounded. As she took in the walled garden, the pretty house, and thought about her business, she once again thanked Gerald for giving her a wonderful life.

CHAPTER FOUR

NICK SANDED THE sliver of wood so the point was sharper, then used tweezers to carefully put it into place. This time the fit was perfect. The restoration of the panels was painstaking work, but worth it, he thought. Something this beautiful deserved to be made whole again.

“Do you have a second?”

He looked up and saw Pallas in the doorway. Not a surprise—this was her business and from what he could tell, she was in the office every day. However, right now something was very different and every cell in his body noticed.

Instead of her usual work uniform of jeans and T-shirt, she had on a long dress. But not just any dress. It was low-cut, with a tight, black leather corset over a white short-sleeved puffy blouse and full, black-and-white vertical strip skirt that fell to the floor.

She had curves he hadn’t noticed before—the kind of curves that got a man to thinking about touching and tasting. While he’d known that Pallas was female and someone whose company he enjoyed, he hadn’t exactly seen her that way before. That he did now was unsettling. Worse was the possibility that now there was no way to unsee her.

She held out the skirt with both hands. “I have a princess wedding with a black-and-white theme. My friend Violet wants to make these changes to the server costumes.” Her voice sounded doubtful. “We’ve used this basic style forever, but she added the corset and the overlay on the skirt.”

She spun around for him to see the back, then bent over to look at the—well, he didn’t know or care what. Not with her breasts practically spilling out. Was it him or was it hot in here?

“I can’t figure out if it’s sexy or slutty. I thought I could get a man’s opinion.”

He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “It looks good.”

“Really? Do you think it will be a distraction?”

“Probably, but is that bad?”

“As long as the bride isn’t pissed.” She smiled. “I guess we’ll risk it. I’ll tell her we’re a go with the slutty dresses.”

“Sexy, not slutty.”

“I can only hope.”

She released the skirt and crossed her arms under her breasts. The full curves seemed to swell toward him, which made it difficult to think about anything but walking over and pulling her close. What he would do after that wasn’t totally clear. Mostly because there were so many possibilities—there was no way to pick just one.

“I always worry when we go outside the box.”

Her words were so at odds for what he was thinking that it took him a second to respond. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a menu the brides get to pick from. All the things we offer. This time it’s different.”

“How? Don’t you usually coordinate colors with the wedding party?”

“Yes, but not this much. She wants weird things. Matching horses and other things. There are packages. I understand them. But when people want to...”

“Color outside the lines?” he offered.

“Something like that. I get nervous. I’m not like you.”

“In what way?”

“You’re an artist. You’re trained to see possibilities. The unexpected. I’m too sensible for that. I always colored inside the lines. I like the lines.” She winced. “Oh, no. I was going to say ‘I like the rules’ but I won’t. I refuse to turn into my mother.”

An interesting assessment but one that made sense based on what Alan had told him about her. “You’re saying you’re not spontaneous or fanciful, but you throw weddings for a living. By definition, you’re fulfilling people’s dreams. That’s a little outside the box.”

“Maybe. I just worry that when we try different things, something will go wrong. A wedding is a big deal. I want everything to be perfect.”

“You can’t control every aspect of what’s happening.”

She smiled. “I can sure try.”

“Sometimes the mess-ups are the best part. It’s where the magic happens.”

“I’m too pragmatic to believe in magic.”

“Now you do sound like your mother.”

Pallas’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t say that. You’ve never met her.”

“You told me all I need to know.”

She drew in a deep breath, which was a hell of distraction.