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She loosened up a little more as he took her around, pleased to show off the bar and his hard work to improve it. But when he asked her to stay for a drink, she declined.
“I really can’t.”
“Big day of wedding planning tomorrow?” By the way she looked up at him and then looked away, Owen knew that wasn’t it.
“Something like that.”
His natural inclination was to let it go. He’d found the subtle-nudge approach to be usually far more successful than a direct request. But he had a feeling that with Grace, subtlety would get him a whole lot of nothing. “Just one drink. It’s early.”
She checked her watch. “I still have work to do tonight.”
“All work and no play...”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Then she must be a wise woman.” And Grace was wavering. “Have you eaten?”
“Not since brunch.”
And there was his answer. She wanted to stay; he merely had to provide the opportunity. “Then consider this a working dinner. You can try some of the foods. Research for your party.”
She tilted her head to look at him. Her blond hair, free of its sleek knot, fell around her shoulders. Owen would bet money that it would feel as cool and silky as it looked.
“I won’t bite,” he joked and was rewarded with a rosy flush coloring her cheeks.
“Owen—”
He cut her off. “It doesn’t have to be long. I have some pull in the kitchen. You’ll be back working before the sun sets.” Seeing as that was a couple of hours away, he figured it was a safe promise.
“Owen,” she said again. But when he broke out his patented sad face, she capitulated. “No more than an hour.”
“Sixty minutes or less.” Unless he could talk her into changing her mind. It wasn’t exactly a date, but it wasn’t exactly not a date, either.
Or it wasn’t, until they were halfway through their meal and she said, “You realize this is only a business relationship.” Which it clearly wasn’t or she wouldn’t feel the need to clarify.
Owen simply smiled and popped another bite of food in his mouth.
Grace put down her fork, carefully and quietly so that he doubted there would have been a sound even if the bar was dead. “I shouldn’t have stayed.”
He quickly swallowed his mouthful. “Of course you should have. You were hungry and we have food here.”
“You’re my client.”
“This again? I’m not a client. I’m not the one getting married.” And never would be. There was nothing wrong with marriage. For other people. Maybe he’d change his mind someday. But not today.
“Close enough.” She pushed her plate toward the center of the table. “I should go.”
“Stay.” He placed a hand over hers. “Just until you’ve finished eating.”
Grace slid her hand out from under his. “I’m done.” She slid out of the booth. “If there’s anything wedding-or engagement-related, please call me.”
“But, otherwise, lose your number?”
Her smile wasn’t cheerful. “I wouldn’t be that harsh.”
But it was basically what she meant. Owen ignored the disappointment pooling in his veins and slid out of the booth, too. “I’ll walk you out.” Just because she’d told him he didn’t have a chance with her was no excuse not to be a gentleman.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Grace.” And this time there was no underlying teasing in his tone. “I’d like to.”
She nodded and anchored her purse over her shoulder. No chance of her leaving it behind, so he’d have an excuse to call her.
They walked toward the large wooden door. Neither of them spoke until they were outside.
“So.” Grace’s fingers curled around the strap of her shoulder bag. “I guess this is it.”
Owen kept his tone light. He was good at keeping things light. “I’m sure I’ll see you at the party and the wedding.”
She nodded, but didn’t expand on his comment and Owen nodded, too. He was interested in her, attracted to her, but if she didn’t feel the same way, he wasn’t going to throw himself at her.
“And I’ll call you if I have any engagement-party questions.”
“Please do.”
He waited until she was a block away and out of sight before he headed back inside.
The table they’d been at was untouched—no doubt his staff expected them to return and finish the mostly full plates. Owen bussed it himself, letting his hands work while his mind whirred.
Not that he had a whole lot to think about. Grace had made it clear that she preferred to act as though the attraction between them didn’t exist.
“Shot down by the blonde?” Stef asked when he brought the half-filled water glasses to dump at the bar.
Owen noticed Mal sitting at the bar grinning. “I wasn’t shot down.” He thought about that for a moment. “No, you’re right. She totally shot me down.” He was man enough to admit it.
Mal gave him a healthy pat on the shoulder. “Do you need a moment to cry into your water?”
“I might.”
She and Stef shared a snicker.
“I’m glad you can find my humiliation amusing. I may have to swear off women forever.” When neither of them said anything, Owen helped out. “See, this is the part where you both assure me that it’s her issue that has nothing to do with me and that I’m an excellent catch who any woman would be lucky to date.”
Silence.
“Nothing?” he asked. “Seriously? Not even a consolation hug?”
“There, there.” Mal patted him on the back. “Now you know how all those women you loved and left felt.”
“I didn’t love and leave. It was always a mutual decision.”
“Is that what they thought?”
The conversation had taken on a serious tone and Owen was glad when Stef moved to the other end of the bar to check on her customers.
“Of course they did.” Just because there hadn’t been long, drawn-out discussions on the topic didn’t mean they hadn’t been in agreement.
“You sure?” Mal tapped a finger against the side of her glass. Her gaze drifted. “Sometimes you might think you know the other person’s feelings only to realize at the worst possible moment that you were wrong.”
And they were veering again. Owen absorbed her words fully, then asked, “Are we talking about you now?”
Mal sat up, her attention snapping back into place, that raw emotion he’d briefly glimpsed ducking back under a neutral look. “No, I’m simply pointing out that getting shot down might be good for your personal growth.”
“Not that I’m admitting to anything, but I think I’ve done enough growing.” And if Grace wanted to pretend that this sizzle between them wasn’t there, she was certainly within her rights to do so. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t be available should she change her mind, but then he was good like that. Always looking out for the happiness of others.
Owen smiled at his sister. “So what brings you out here tonight? Boredom? Ennui?”
Mal smirked. “You know those words mean the same thing.”
He slid onto a bar stool, keeping one eye out for a patron who might use it instead. “Yes. But one is all fancy and French.”
Mal glanced around. “Someone you’re trying to show off for?”
“Just practicing.”
* * *
GRACE KNEW THE engagement party would go perfectly. At least, on the surface, which was all that mattered.
No one cared if the DJ’s car broke down or if the fish they’d selected for the entrée was unavailable due to a typhoon last week. They didn’t care if there weren’t enough seats for everyone or if there was one lone bathroom for three hundred guests and someone had just thrown up all over it. All they cared was that Grace took care of it.
Her job was as much about minimizing damage on the day of the event as the actual planning. And she took great care to control as many variables as possible. Like her attraction to one Owen Ford.
She’d managed to plan the engagement party, including another visit to Elephants, without running into him. Some people might think her cowardly or even unprofessional by choosing to schedule her visit when she knew he wouldn’t be there. But Grace saw it as taking advantage of opportunities.
She’d been meeting with Julia and Donovan about their wedding and Julia had mentioned that Owen was working at the restaurant all week. Was she supposed to ignore the snippet of information? Purposely delay her visit by a week so that she wouldn’t appear to be avoiding him?
And she wouldn’t avoid him tonight, either. She’d be too busy to chat with all the various jobs and duties she and her team would be attending to, but she wouldn’t avoid him.
She was already at the wine bar, preparing the initial setup even though the party didn’t start for another four hours. Her team of three would arrive in forty-five minutes, but for now it was just Grace and a pair of Elephants staff members prepping for tonight.
Grace was glad for the solitude. Glad Owen wasn’t here to grab her attention and refuse to let go. She hadn’t gotten to bed until almost four in the morning after a wedding the night before. The bride and groom had wanted to party, as had everyone else in attendance, and Grace had been required to negotiate a time extension on the fly while her team checked to make sure the caterers wouldn’t run out of food and drink.
When she’d finally crawled between her clean sheets, she’d been so exhausted that she almost forgot to set her alarm. And when it had gone off at six this morning, she wished she had forgotten. But she had her Pilates class at seven and she never missed that unless she was out of town.
Being tired and having a headache were not good excuses. So she’d slipped into her workout gear, grabbed a bottle of water from her tidy fridge and was warming up in the gym ten minutes before class.
But keeping to her routine didn’t fill her with any sense of clarity or moral satisfaction. She just felt more tired.
She would be glad when tonight’s event was over, though no one would ever know. On the surface, she’d be poised and friendly, her exhaustion hidden beneath a polite veneer.
By the time her team arrived, Grace had moved the tables and chairs into her preferred groupings and downed two bottles of water to keep hydrated.
It had been a warm day and was promising to be an equally warm night. Her thin silk T-shirt was beginning to stick to her back. “Hayley, will you check on the AC, please?”
Nothing would put a damper on a party faster than having guests uncomfortable.
“Right away.” Hayley scampered off to do as she was bid while Grace went over the event plan with the other two members of her team. They all knew the plan, but Grace made a point of holding a quick overview on-site at every event she threw.
While it was usually unnecessary, those rare occasions where they caught something that had been overlooked made it a worthy practice. Hayley returned and Grace doled out jobs so they’d be ready come showtime.
The staff Owen had handpicked for this evening were beginning to trickle in. Grace took a moment to speak to each of them personally, making sure they knew that, while technically this party was for Julia and Donovan, in fact it was for all the Fords, so any problems or issues should come directly to her. All part of the full-service experience she provided.
The staff were cheerful and quick to lend a hand to transform the room into an elegant space. It helped that Elephants had good bones, with its long white bar, dark flooring and sleek furniture.
Grace had chosen to forgo a traditional tabletop flower arrangement, those blooms that sprang up and demanded to be seen. Instead, she’d gone for something a little smaller, a little less typical and a little more Julia and Donovan. She’d found beautiful white birdcages with a white stone bird perched atop and stuffed them with small blue flowers that poked out from between the bars. The effect was cheerful containment on the tables covered in pristine white cloths. She trucked in some fake trees, leafless and dark, and strung them with small fairy lights. She’d created some temporary chandeliers out of wire, wrapped in a feathery material and strung with the same fairy lights. With the lights in the wine bar turned from their usual pinky hue to soft white, the space turned from a hip see-and-be-seen establishment to one of classic elegance with a modern twist.
Grace stepped back from fixing a light string that was drooping instead of artfully swooping and surveyed the room. A swell of pride filled her chest. It was beautiful, yes, but more than that it had a sense of the couple the party was being held for.
While anyone could appreciate that the room was worthy of a photo shoot in a magazine, those who looked closer would spot the attention to detail. The two typical flower arrangements, a bustle of lavender, blue and white by the front door, were set up in trifle bowls. The guestbook on the edge of the gift table was set with a silver Montblanc pen identical to the one Donovan always used. There were other little touches of tradition and style that fit the couple.
“This looks amazing.”
Grace recognized Owen’s voice and blinked before turning, a polite smile already in place. But she felt it waver when she looked into his face. His easy grin and the way he seemed to be checking out her instead of the room. Hadn’t she been clear that nothing could happen between them? “Thank you.”
“How long did this take?” He reached around her to finger the tiny cages on the table, the movement making the small flowers inside rustle.
Grace felt the heat from his arm sink into hers. She took a small step sideways, away from Owen. “I got here around two.”
“Amazing,” he said again, but this time he was definitely looking at her.
Grace felt the heat creep into her cheeks. She knew she didn’t look awful. Even during setup, she was careful to maintain her image. Hair pulled into a tidy ponytail, clean jeans with no rips or loose threads, a simple, black silk T-shirt and ballet flats so she could do any necessary hard labor. But amazing was a bit of a stretch.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“It’s all under control.” She was happy to give the party line. “Your only responsibility is to enjoy yourself.”
“You sure? I am the host. I’ve got the suit and everything.”
And a fine suit it was, cut slim to show off his physique and made out of poplin. The light gray shade set off his dark coloring and he wore it with a plain white dress shirt, the top two buttons left undone.
Grace yanked her gaze away from that small patch of exposed tanned skin. She had no business thinking about that skin, wondering if it would feel warmed by the sun or if it would taste like sugar, rum and mint.
Her eyes fell to his feet and the bright green kicks he wore. The tightness banding her lungs loosened.
This was who Owen Ford was. The kind of man who not only wore bright green kicks, but also wore them with a designer suit. The kind of man who didn’t get serious. Not the kind of man she was looking for at all.
“It’s all handled,” she told Owen, drawing in a calming breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready.”
