Tara Randel - Orange Blossom Brides

“It’s the vibe he sends out. Can’t miss it.” Jewel watched Lilli tidy up. “So that’s why you haven’t gotten any work done.”

“Huh?”

“And you’ve got the look.”

“What look?”

“Interested.”

“No way.” Did she? She hadn’t been dwelling on him all morning, just snatches of time here and there. “And I can prove he’s not my type. Not only did his clothing leave something to be desire—”

“What was he wearing?”

“What was he what?”

“Wearing? Obviously it bothers you.”

“I don’t know. Faded jeans. Tight black T-shirt. Five-o’clock shadow first thing in the morning.”

Jewels eyebrows arched. “I didn’t know shaving qualified as a fashion accessory.”

“It’s just unprofessional.”

“He’s a private investigator.” Jewel threw her a look. “The last thing he wants to do is stick out in a crowd.”

“I guess.” Lilli pursed her lips, exasperated by her friend’s interrogation. Cringing, she hoped she hadn’t come across as uptight with Max, but she was very afraid she had. “Then explain this. When we were in his office, I noticed a wall calendar. Penciled in every Saturday is a woman’s name. A different woman’s name. Cards with Terri. The gazebo with Margaret. Drive with Carolyn.”

“Which means what?”

“I don’t know. He’s a player?”

Jewel laughed.

“What?”

“That sounds so funny coming from you.”

“Hey, I can be hip if I want to.”

Jewel continued laughing. “Keep telling yourself that, but I know better.”

“You know I don’t go out with guys like him.” Even to herself Lilli sounded uppity.

“Problem is, you don’t go out at all,” Jewel muttered, then flushed at Lilli’s hurt expression. “I’m sorry. I call ’em like I see ’em. And you’ve got Max on the brain.” Jewel placed the wedding file back on the desk. “Let’s go eat. You need a break from all this charity-event talk and I want to check out the new place downtown, Pointe Café.”

Lilli glanced at her computer screen again, knowing she wouldn’t get any more work done. Max Sanders had captured her thoughts, thanks to Jewel’s prodding. She needed a change of scenery. After saving her work, she stood. “Let’s go.”

Lilli grabbed her purse, knocking over the accordion file Mrs. Rumpold had given her earlier. Wedding gown photos spilled to the floor. Exasperated, Lilli knelt down to collect the pictures, her eye catching on an image of a beautiful gown. The white strapless creation hugged the model’s body before flaring out in an embroidered trumpet skirt and train.

“Coming?” Jewel called.

“Be right there.” She took one last look at the gown before scooping up the remaining pictures, securely placing them in the file and out of her sight before her resolve to stay unaffected by weddings unraveled.

CHAPTER THREE

MAX HELD THE PRINTOUT with the particulars of the Wingate collection in his hand. He perused the information, realizing this collection was not just fancy jewelry. The pieces, which showcased several diamonds and sapphires, were more like artwork, he noted. His eyebrows rose when he saw the estimated value of the collection. Unbelievable. Why on earth would Clare Wingate loan her collection to a friend? Benefit or not? Thankfully, the collection had full insurance coverage. That lowered his heart rate some.

He’d do everything in his power to keep the collection safe, but couldn’t deny he’d be glad when the pieces were returned to their owner.

Tossing the fax onto his desk, Max leaned back in his chair and stacked his bootheels on the windowsill, taking a moment to contemplate the scene from his office window. From here, he had an unimpeded view of the beach and the Gulf waters. If he’d realized all the stress that went into starting his own security firm, he might have had second thoughts. He’d loved police work, being something of an adrenaline junkie, but when word of his grandmother’s bad heart had reached him he decided to come back to Florida.

Laverne Sanders had raised him after his father died and his mother couldn’t deal with a son who tended to get into mischief. He grinned. His grandmother’s kind description of his actions. Most people had plain-out called him trouble.

His old friend and mentor, the town police chief, called to inform Max that he’d assisted Gram after a fainting spell in the produce section of Winn Dixie. Apparently she’d been dealing with some health issues and hadn’t told Max because she didn’t want to worry him. He also found out her finances were a mess, so he came home to pitch in and help, whether she wanted him to or not. Each was all the family the other had. She’d always been rock solid for him, now he would take care of her.

Another reason to make sure his business became successful here in Cypress Pointe. Folks of this fine town might remember him as a hoodlum, but Gram knew better. The burden of proving he’d changed would be tough, but he’d always liked a good challenge.

She’d be miffed when she found out he’d turned down the groom position for the charity function, since she’d been telling him he needed to get out and meet people. Women people, to be exact.

Right now he had to concentrate on his security business. The longer he was in town, the more he realized the need here. And he would make himself indispensable. Even if it means volunteering for the wedding fashion show? The thought made him shudder, until one particular bewitching redhead came to mind.

Max had to admit, working undercover might be his only option to guard both the jewelry collection and the vintage gowns, but he wouldn’t give in easily. He ran a hand through his hair and drank the last of his coffee. Gone stone-cold again, along with his mood. The more he thought about Miss Barclay—which he’d done pretty much nonstop since she’d waltzed into his office, dragging the past with her—the more he vowed to prove himself to the folks of Cypress Pointe. He rose and walked to the outer office to get another mug of coffee just as Blanche breezed through the door.

“I’m back, boss.”

“I could have used you about two hours ago.”

“Why?”

“I had a visitor try to talk me into volunteering as a groom at that charity function.”

She stopped just inside the threshold, closing the door behind her. The middle-aged control freak with short, spiky blond hair regarded him with an amused tilt of her lips as he explained Miss Barclay’s visit. “I’m gone for the morning, and this place falls apart.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” He told her how he turned Lilli down flat. “She pretty much ran out of here.”

“After such a heartfelt refusal? What a shocker.”

Max scowled at his secretary, not missing the sarcasm in her tone.

“Hey, I agreed to security. Nothing more.”

“Even if it means spending time with a pretty, young, single woman?”

“How do you know all that?”

“Please, you’ve forgotten that this is a small town.” Blanche grinned. “Remind me never to leave you alone again.”

He scowled at her.

She shook her head as she crossed the room to her desk. “Really, though, you should take advantage of these events. Look at it more as a business opportunity and less as getting wrangled to volunteer for Celeste.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Max, you were under the mistaken belief that you can say no to this event. I know those historical society ladies. They’re going to figure out a way to con you into volunteering, and they won’t stop until you give in. And the chief warned you. Celeste Barclay expects results.”

“She didn’t ask me. Her daughter did.”