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“You must have worked all night.”
She pushed a strand of hair back from her face. “Just doing my job.”
“Don’t you design the wedding dresses?”
“Each of us helps out where we can,” she said. “That’s why working for The Wedding Belles is such fun.”
Fun? Serena never seemed to stop working. She moved through the booth adjusting swags of rich yellow fabric draped on the boring white panels separating each of the exhibit areas.
Didn’t she ever slow down or rest? Even sitting on the flight she’d been working on something. He didn’t know how she did it.
“Everything looks good,” he said.
“Good won’t cut it. Brides are the pickiest people on this planet, next to their mothers.” She straightened a stack of brochures. “Everything needs to be perfect.”
“Nothing’s ever perfect.”
“Then you’ve never attended a wedding put on by The Wedding Belles.” Kneeling, she realigned the hem of one of the wedding dresses. “Or worn one of my gowns.”
“No offense, but I don’t look my best in a train and heels.”
She smiled up at him.
He smiled back.
Now this was more like it.
“Do you need anything?” he asked. “Breakfast? Coffee?”
Me.
“Thanks, but I already ate and my coffee is stashed where I can get to it easily.” Standing, she peeked at her watch. “You might want to get going. The doors are going to—”
“Welcome to the Northwest Fall Bridal Extravaganza,” the voice over the loudspeaker announced.
“Uh-oh. You didn’t make it out in time. Watch out.” Serena smoothed the skirt of her dress. “We’re about to be overrun by the bridal brigade commanded by mothers and supported by best friends, sisters and cousins.”
Within seconds, chattering, laughter and even shrieks filled the large hall as if someone had turned off the mute switch on the remote. Packs of women ran past him.
“Where are they going?” he asked.
“The first fashion show.”
Had he agreed to model, all those women would have been running to him. Wonder what Blondie would say to that? A smile tugged on his lips.
Two young women walked up to her with questions about the cake on display.
The once empty aisles and booths were now crowded with women lugging ten-pound bags of bridal literature. Lots of women. Young ones, old ones…mostly young ones. Good-looking, too.
And engaged, Kane reminded himself. He didn’t do engaged women. Or even almost-engaged women, like Serena.
“Mom.” A twenty-something woman with chestnut hair wearing a green baby-doll style dress rushed into The Wedding Belles’ booth. “This is it. I have to have this dress.”
“We’ve been here two minutes and that’s the third dress you’ve said that about,” the mother said.
“Mo-om.”
Serena was speaking to two other women, but that didn’t stop the mother from interrupting the conversation.
“How much is this wedding gown?” the mother asked.
“I’m sorry, but that dress is not for sale,” Serena explained. “It will be worn at a wedding on November 22.”
The daughter’s collagen-injected, shimmery pink lips puckered like some kind of bizarre human-hybrid fish. Kane grinned to himself. Maybe this was the Northwest version of bridezilla.
“Could you make one like this for my daughter?” the mother asked, not-so-subtly showing off her designer purse and iceberg-sized diamond ring.
Despite the interruptions, Serena smiled pleasantly. “I can create something just as beautiful for her. With your daughter’s lovely figure, an asymmetrical A-line gown would be stunning. A cutaway skirt, even. And champagne embroidered lace would be a wonderful accent with her coloring.”
The bride tossed her artfully streaked hair. “We’d pay you extra for that dress on display.”
Kane would have told the mother to take her money and…Well, go someplace else.
“If you are interested in our gowns, we have a couple of samples here that can be sold off-the-rack.” Serena’s smile never wavered as she motioned to the photo albums on the table. “You might also want to make yourself comfortable and glance through the portfolio to get a taste of all our designs.”
“We might come back later.” The mother looked down her surgically designed pert nose. “Or not.”
The words didn’t seem to faze Serena. “I’ll be here.”
The way she handled herself with the appearances-are-everything, I-can-buy-whatever-I-want attitude impressed Kane. He only hoped she wasn’t cut from the same cloth. Not that it meant anything to him if she were.
As the bride stomped away, more women fawned over the dresses. Serena answered their questions not only promoting her gowns, but the services provided by The Wedding Belles, especially when it came to full-service destination weddings.
She was in her element. Glowing, sparkling, radiant.
Kane slowly backed away. He liked watching her, but this wasn’t the place for a single guy intent on remaining that way.
Serena gave a quick nod his way. He was surprised she’d noticed him leaving. He was also surprised he liked her noticing.
Uh-oh. Not good. Very bad actually.
Serena James might not have a ring on her finger, but avoiding her was the smart thing to do. The right thing to do, even if he spent another night in his hotel room alone watching television. On second thought, maybe he could find a bridesmaid, sprinkled among the brides and their mothers, here with something on her mind besides marriage.
Maybe all the shiny fabrics and chocolate would put her in the mood for satin sheets and room service. And maybe that would get his mind off a certain “practically engaged” someone.
He glanced back at Serena.
Or…maybe not.
“Thanks for dinner, Malcolm.” Malcolm Rapier was Serena’s friend and former classmate from design school. She kissed his cheek, expertly avoiding his twist to meet her mouth. “It was great catching up with you.”
“Sure you don’t want to go to the party?” With his boyish grin, he looked more like one of his models than the rising star of men’s formal wear design. “I’d love to show you off.”
Serena was tempted. Talk about a looker in a stylish black suit he’d designed himself and multicolored silk tie. Almost as handsome as Kane. Where had that come from?
“I usually enjoy being shown off, but I didn’t sleep much last night.” Going out wasn’t a good idea when she wanted to yawn. Not to mention her feet ached.
“Understood. Return of bridezilla tomorrow.” He laced his fingers with hers, his hands warm and smooth like the fabrics he dealt with every day. “But if you change your mind, call me. I’ll send the limo back.”
“You’re too sweet.”
Unlike her pilot. The pilot, she corrected.
“No, you’re too sexy and look great on my arm.” Malcolm twirled her to him as if they were dancing and pulled her against him. “Any chance you’d leave Boston for Seattle?”
Serena knew exactly how the game was played…Normally she would concede, but she didn’t like the way Kane kept intruding on her thoughts. She wanted to prove to herself the pilot had no effect on her.
She looked up at Malcolm through her eyelashes. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Oh, Serena, my muse, can’t you imagine the beautiful formal wear we could create together? Paris, Milan, New York. Nothing could compete with us.”
“You’re right about that.” But Serena wanted more than that kind of partnership. She wanted true love—marriage and children. She eyed Malcolm subjectively, as if inventorying the pieces of her next design. “Would this be strictly a business arrangement?”
He lowered his mouth to her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin. “Do you think I’d ask you to relocate across the country just for a job?”
Maybe she was going a little too far here. Okay, Malcolm and she would make a stunning pair. They shared common interests and enjoyed each other’s company. Yet if she were at all interested in pursuing a relationship with him, why couldn’t she get Kane out of her mind?
His smile widened. “You’re thinking about it.”
Not really. At least not with him. She shrugged.
“You are.” Laughing, Malcolm caressed her cheek with his fingertip and kissed her forehead. “Until tomorrow, my soon-to-be Seattle love and partner.”
With that he walked out of the revolving door to hit whatever hip parties were happening that night. She wasn’t sad to see him go.
Serena’s heels clicked on the marble floor of the hotel lobby. Even after the long day at the bridal show, she felt reenergized though her body’s internal clock was running three hours ahead.
The first day of the Northwest Bridal Extravaganza had been a hit, an “in the park home run” to quote one of the Seattle show’s organizers. Tomorrow might just be a grand slam. Serena already felt like an all-star.
“What would Rupert say?”
She recognized the voice and stopped, annoyed that Kane had not only been on her mind, but was now here. He sat at a nearby table with a pint of beer in his hand, looking totally comfortable and at ease. In his jeans and long-sleeved black T-shirt, he had that carefree, I-don’t-care-what-you-think, sexy style down. Not that she thought he was sexy. Her type of sexy, that was.
Oh, she’d once been tempted by bad boys, but her sister’s experience had made Serena immune to their charms. Her sister, Morgan, had fallen in love with a guy who’d had women calling him day and night. He had no steady job nor seemed to want one. Morgan had moved in with him anyway and then married him, claiming he loved her and would change. He hadn’t and didn’t. Serena had been the one to pick up the pieces when his infidelity destroyed the marriage and left her pregnant sister devastated and alone. Their parents still hadn’t forgiven Morgan for falling in love with the wrong man and “ruining” her life.
“What do you mean by that?” Serena asked.
He motioned to an empty seat.
She really shouldn’t.
She really wanted to.
Kane pushed the chair out from the small round table with his foot. “You can buy me a drink for this morning.”
Her mouth curved. “You already have one.”
“I wouldn’t mind another.”
She did owe him for dropping off the box on time, even if he had waited until the last possible minute. She sat, grateful the moment her bottom hit the leather chair and she was no longer standing.
“Oooh,” she moaned.
His brows lifted. “You’re easily satisfied.”
She flushed. “I should look into designing a high heel that could be worn for fourteen hours straight without causing foot pain.”
“I meant the guy. For a woman who’s practically engaged, you seemed pretty chummy with Mr. Suit.”
Each time Serena heard that phrase—practically engaged—she felt as if another heavy bolt of fabric had been stapled to her shoulders. And right now she didn’t like the judgmental tone of Kane’s voice. He didn’t know her. He knew nothing about her. “Are you a pilot or a chaperone?”
“Pilot. Unattached. But if you were my girl—” his gaze traveled over her with lazy appreciation “—I sure wouldn’t want you having dinner or cozying up with another man.”
Tingles shot through her and she sat straighter. Her reaction had everything to do with being tired and nothing to do with him. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not your girl, isn’t it?”
“A damn good thing.”
Serena winced. She wasn’t used to such rudeness or honesty. She didn’t know what to say. That left her more than a little flustered. She could always be counted on to find the right words or do the right thing.
“Let me guess,” he continued. “Your boyfriend is a carbon copy of the guy you were with.”
“Malcolm Rapier is the guy’s name, and he’s a little like Rupert.” Only better. Malcolm was a better dresser than her ex. “He’s a fellow designer and a friend.”
“Who wants to be more than a friend.”
It wasn’t a question. “And you know this because…”
“I’m a guy.”
“And guys know everything.”
“You said it.” Kane raised his glass.
“Malcolm likes pretty things,” she said.
Kane took a swig of beer. “Things?”
“Women.” She didn’t know why she was wasting her time explaining things to him. “Malcolm likes to be seen escorting attractive women around. You know, arm candy.”
