A Wedding on Bluebird Way Page 28

  “Hawaii?” With Savannah? She almost asked before biting back the question.

  “Before the wedding, I closed my office for two weeks and reserved a beach house in Maui for the honeymoon. Since the reservation is nonrefundable, I figured I might as well use it myself, just for a break.” He laughed uneasily. “Sort of a bachelor honeymoon.”

  “Why not? A bachelor honeymoon sounds like a great idea—or maybe a great fifties movie title,” Harper joked. “If you still want to come, I can make dinner tonight. It might not be as fancy as I’d like, but you’d be welcome.”

  “Sure. Let me know where and what time. I’ll bring some wine.”

  “Is eight too late? I know you have to pack.”

  “I’m already packed. My bags are in the trunk.”

  “Oh—of course.” She glanced at the gaudily decorated car, which was still attracting honks and waves from people who drove past the service station. “Here, I’ll give you my address.” She pulled a business card and a pen out of her purse and scribbled on the back. “The phone number’s already on the card. Give me a call if you can’t make it.”

  He gave her a serious look. “Of course I can make it, Harper. Trust me. I’ll be there at eight.”

  * * *

  Chance waited long enough to make sure Harper’s car would start. The twins waved at him as she drove away. Chance waved back. As the car vanished from sight, he felt strangely alone. Harper and her children had been with him since the wedding disaster. He’d been so busy taking care of them that he’d scarcely had time to think about Savannah and how this change of plans would affect their lives.

  Sooner or later they would have to deal with the arrangements they’d made: the prenuptial agreement and addendum to his will, as well as his life insurance policy, which would need to be legally voided; the spacious condo they’d bought together, which would have to be sold unless Savannah wanted to buy out his share; the wedding gifts that would need to be returned, and so much more. Knowing Savannah, there wouldn’t be a problem with any of it. She was a genuinely nice person. But just thinking about the process made his head ache. Hawaii was just what he needed right now.

  He’d told himself that getting married was the right thing to do at this stage of his life, and that Savannah would be the perfect wife for him. But as it turned out, it wasn’t what Savannah had wanted. Looking back on the whole idea, maybe it wasn’t what he’d wanted either.

  From the service station, he drove to a car wash and had his Mercedes washed and waxed. With the gaudy wedding paint gone, it was time to go home, put the wedding behind him, rearrange his life.

  From the nook that served as his home office, he called the airline. “We can get you on a red-eye flight at ten tonight if that will work,” the reservation agent told him. “But the Monday flights are sold out. Unless there’s a cancellation, we can’t get you on another flight until Tuesday.”

  Chance weighed his options. The ten o’clock flight sounded tempting, but it would mean canceling dinner with Harper. The last thing he’d said to her today was that he’d be there. Let her down, and she’d never trust him again. Neither would her little girls, who’d heard his promise. Somehow that mattered almost as much.

  “We’ll have to make it Tuesday,” he said.

  “We can get you on at two in the afternoon. That flight still has a few seats left.”

  “That’ll have to do.” Chance booked the flight and went online to arrange for a rental car. That done, he emailed his attorney and financial manager about the canceled marriage. At least, with the flight delayed until Tuesday, he’d have time to take care of the legal loose ends.

  He could also call Harper and put off their dinner until Monday night. He was reaching for the phone when he decided against it. She was expecting him tonight. Why upset her plans—especially when he was already eager to see her again?

  In spite of everything that had happened, he still found himself wondering about Savannah. What had been in her pretty head when she’d roared off on that motorcycle? She must’ve had some kind of plan? Was she hiding out with a friend? Had she gone to a new love somewhere? Chance was curious. But as long as she was happy, it didn’t matter.

  What would he do if she came back and still wanted to get married? But Savannah wasn’t like that. She would have been absolutely sure she was doing the right thing, and there would be no changing her mind.

  Sooner or later, maybe when he got back from Hawaii, they could talk and come to some kind of understanding. But he would leave that up to her. He was already moving on, and it felt good.

  * * *

  Harper had spent the afternoon cleaning her condo and making lasagna. At seven, with dinner in the oven, she’d fed her twins the mac and cheese they loved, bathed them, read them a story, and set them in front of the TV while she changed, fixed her hair and makeup, and put the finishing touches on the meal. The girls had promised to go to bed right after they said good night to Dr. Chance.

  She was just lighting the candles on the table when the phone rang. Her heart dropped. She should have known Chance would cancel at the last minute, she told herself. Maybe Savannah had put in a surprise appearance.

  Braced for disappointment, she blew out the candles and picked up the phone.

  “Hi.” It was Chance’s voice. “I’m right out front—I think. I just wanted to make sure I was in the right place before I rang the wrong doorbell.”

  Her heart took wing again. “Let me check out the front window. I should be able to look down and see you.” She lowered the phone and flitted to the window. In a moment she was back. “I see your car. And I see you had it washed. You can park in the visitor row and come on up. The elevator’s just inside the front door.”

  As she waited, Harper struggled to control her fluttering pulse. It was only dinner, she told herself. And even though she’d slept with the man, there was no reason to expect anything but a polite—and permanent—good-bye at the end of it. Chance was out of her league—the playboy doctor who’d been mobbed by beautiful women the minute his bride roared out of sight. He could do better than a harried single mom whose life revolved around her children and her work.

  Still, when the doorbell rang, her pounding heart told her the truth. She had fallen hard for Chance Worthington. But she’d be a fool to dream of a happy ending. A children’s fairy tale would be more likely to come true.

  * * *

  Chance rang the doorbell and waited. His pulse skipped at the sound of Harper’s footsteps coming closer from the other side of the door. They’d only been apart for a few hours, but the anticipation of seeing her again created a pleasant buzz. He felt like a seventeen-year-old picking up his first prom date.

  She opened the door, looking flushed and slightly breathless. Her sleeveless black dress, which clung at the waist and flared at the hem, was cut low enough at the bodice to show a hint of cleavage. She’d added silver earrings and strappy red sandals to the ensemble.

  “You clean up nicely,” he joked, taking her in. She looked sexy enough to devour on the spot.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the bouquet of spring blossoms he’d brought. “You haven’t exactly seen me at my best.”

  Yes, I have, he thought, remembering her in his bed with her lush breasts bare beneath him and her hair spread in dark waves on his pillow.

  He took a moment to glance around the apartment. The small place was tasteful and cozy, with green plants, books on the shelves, an upright piano in one corner, and a colorful hand-knit throw flung over the back of the sofa. It was just what he might have expected of Harper.

  “These flowers are lovely,” she said. “I’ll put them in a vase while you say good night to the girls. They begged me to let them stay up until you came.”

  Chance had brought a bottle of good merlot from his own collection. He set it on the counter and walked into the living room, where the twins were watching a children’s show on TV. They were freshly bathed and dressed for bed—Jenn
y in a nightgown and Jessy in pajamas. When they saw him, their faces lit. They jumped off the sofa and ran to him, bouncing around his legs.

  “Turn off the TV, girls. It’s bedtime,” Harper called from the kitchen. Chance spotted the remote on the coffee table. He picked it up and clicked the switch.

  Jenny tugged at his hand. “Will you tuck us in, Dr. Chance?”

  Chance caught Harper’s eye. “Is it all right?”

  “It’s fine. They’ve had their bedtime story. So don’t let them con you into another one. Dinner will be on the table in a few minutes.”

  “You heard your mom. Show me to your room. Let’s go.”

  Skipping and giggling, they seized his hands on either side and led him down the hall. Their bedroom, lit by a mermaid night-light, was exactly what Chance would have imagined for little girls—lots of pink, matching twin beds with ruffled coverlets, a shelf of books, and a dollhouse in one corner.

  Chance turned down the covers on both beds, guessing that was expected. But he’d never tucked a child into bed. He hadn’t even been tucked in himself. “Now what?” he asked. “Do you just climb into bed?”

  “Now we say our prayers,” Jessy prompted. “You kneel down with us right here and listen.”

  Chance had been raised in a home without religion. He’d never been a praying man. But to please the girls, he knelt down next to one of the beds with a twin on each side and folded his arms, as they did.

  Jenny went first, with a murmured prayer Chance could barely hear except for the “amen” at the end, followed by a silent pause. Jessy nudged him. “You’re supposed to say ‘amen,’” she whispered.

  “Oh.” Chance complied. When Jessy’s turn to pray came, he was ready. With prayers done, the twins climbed into their beds and let Chance pull the covers up to their chins. It was a sweet moment, making him wonder what he’d missed growing up with two workaholics for parents.

  “Good night, Dr. Chance.” Jessy yawned as she spoke.

  “Good night, Dr. Chance,” Jenny added.

  “Sleep tight.” Chance walked out of the room and down the hall, leaving the door slightly open.

  Lasagna, salad, and garlic bread waited on the elegantly set kitchen table. Harper stood at the counter, struggling to open the wine. Chance had resolved to play it cool tonight and let her take the lead. But she looked so deliciously helpless that he couldn’t resist. Stepping behind her, he circled her with his arms and brushed a kiss on the back of her neck. “Need any help?” he asked.

  She stiffened slightly, and he sensed that he’d overstepped. Releasing her, he took the bottle and used the corkscrew to pop it open. “Have a seat. I’ll pour.” He pulled out her chair before filling the wineglasses. “This looks wonderful. You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “Not really. I just used what I had on hand.” She dished a square of lasagna onto his plate. “So, are you set to fly off on your bachelor honeymoon tomorrow?”

  “Not quite.” Chance helped himself to salad and garlic bread. “As it turns out, I couldn’t get a flight until Tuesday. I’d have called you and rescheduled our dinner, but by then it would’ve been a bother for you to change your plans. Besides”—he gave her what he hoped was a winning smile—“I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

  She cast him a skeptical look. Chance had never had any trouble charming women. So why was he finding Harper such a challenge? Why did he find himself wanting to get up, sweep her into his arms, hold her against him, and tell her that, whatever happened, he would never do anything to hurt her or her girls?

  Heaven help him, was he falling in love with her?

  Chapter Seven

  Chance watched Harper from across the table as she sipped her wine. Candlelight sculpted her expressive face. Reflected flames danced in the velvety depths of her eyes.

  What was happening to him?

  It was as if the crazy, scattered pieces of his life had come together in a way that had never made sense until now.

  He loved her. Simple as that.

  But it wasn’t really simple at all. A day ago, when they’d first set eyes on each other, he’d been about to marry someone else. From there, things had happened too fast to be believed. Harper wasn’t ready to trust him, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d only just begun to trust himself.

  They needed more time—time alone and time with the children—to put their relationship on a solid footing.

  “Are you free tomorrow?” he asked. “We could make a day of it, maybe take the girls to the zoo, where they’d have a good time. Then, if you can get a sitter, you and I could end the day at a nice restaurant somewhere.”

  Her expression remained the same, except for her eyes. Chance saw the protective barrier slip into place. “I thought this was supposed to be a farewell dinner,” she said.

  “Is that what you want it to be, Harper?”

  An eternity seemed to pass before she answered. “Not really. But if this is going to end, I’d rather end it now, before it can leave any more wreckage behind.”

  “And if we don’t want it to end?”

  “What are the odds of that?”

  “We’ll never know unless we give it a try, will we?”

  She put down her glass. “Chance, I don’t know about this. It’s all so sudden—”

  He cut her off before she could turn him down flat. “Let’s give ourselves tomorrow, at least. Then we’ll both have time to think it over while I’m gone.”

  She shook her head. “Tomorrow is out. I’ve got a new client coming into the office at ten—a big society wedding that could get me some good press. If she likes my ideas, I’ll be busy with her all day, and for weeks after that. I can’t afford to put her off.”

  Chance sighed, deflated but not ready to give up. “You’ll need to eat. I hope we can manage dinner, at least.”

  Before Harper could answer, her cell phone, which she’d left on the kitchen counter, began to jangle. She rose with an apologetic look. “Sorry, this could be important,” she said.

  Let it ring! Chance wanted to tell her. But he bit back the urge to speak up.

  She glanced at the caller ID before answering. Stress tightened her features. “This is Harper McLain,” she said in a crisp tone. “What?” There was a pause. Her face fell. “Well, if you’re sure, I understand. Please let me know if you change your mind.”

  Ending the call, she sank onto the chair like a marionette with broken strings. The phone lay beside her plate. “That was my client,” she said. “I guess I’ll be free tomorrow after all.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Not that you’ll be free, but that you’ve lost an important customer. I’m guessing that weddings are a cutthroat business. Lots of competition.”

  “You can’t imagine.” She shook her head. “I should’ve known, after your wedding fell apart, that word would get around.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault. Not at all.”

  “That doesn’t make any difference. There’s a lot of superstition involved in weddings. What happened at the Bluebird Inn is like a curse that nobody wants to repeat. I’m sure Felicity Patterson is getting her share of cancellations, too. Too bad. It’s a lovely place.”

  The phone rang again. Harper hesitated, then picked it up. Chance could tell from the conversation and her downcast expression that it was one more client calling to cancel. Ending the call, she slumped in her chair. She looked ready to cry. “This is awful,” she said. “I’ve got people working for me who need to earn a living. What am I going to do?”

  Chance reached across the table and laid his hand on hers. “Do you mind if I make a couple of suggestions?”

  “You’re the doctor.”

  “First, you’re worn out. You’re in no condition to handle anything tonight. Let’s turn the phone off. If you get any more calls, they can go to voice mail. You can answer them in the morning after you’ve rested.” Without waiting for her to do it, he took her phone and switched it off.

  She gave the pho
ne a nervous glance. “And second?”

  “You mentioned you had a very capable assistant.”

  “Brad’s a gem. He’s wonderfully creative, and he handles the brides and their mothers better than I do. He’s even good with estimates and billing. I don’t know how I’d manage without him.”

  “Then my suggestion is that you call him first thing tomorrow, tell him what’s happening with the clients, and that you need him to take over while you get some rest. If he’s as good as you say he is, he’ll jump at the chance to prove himself.”

  “Any more suggestions, Dr. Worthington?” Chance sensed an edge in her voice. She’d been through the weekend from hell. Maybe he’d pushed her too far.

  “Just one more,” he said. “I suggest that we finish this great meal you cooked, and then, while I clear it away, you stretch out on the couch and wait for me to come and give you a nice back rub.”

  She hesitated, then smiled. “Now that’s something I could really use.”

  “Eat up, then. This lasagna is too good to waste.”

  * * *

  They made it through the rest of the meal on small talk. Harper told him more about her work and her children. She listened while Chance told her about growing up in a prominent, wealthy family, and how his father had almost disowned him when he’d made up his mind to become a doctor instead of managing the family real estate empire.

  Hearing about his life, Harper couldn’t help thinking how different her own had been. She’d never known a time without worry and struggle. Would there be enough money for food and rent? How could she save her failing marriage? How could she, as a single mother, provide for her twins? How could she manage a business and still find time to be a mother?

  Chance appeared to have sailed through life, choosing the right friends and schools, the right profession, even the right woman to marry. He and Savannah had shared the same roots, the same values, the same social status. What could a man like Dr. Chance Worthington see in a woman with two young children, a woman constantly fighting to keep her head above water?