Sunset In Central Park. Sarah Morgan
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to help.”
“I did help! I made some calls. I plan on making more later.”
“But why not do it yourself? You’re the sort of person who would do anything for your friends.” Paige hesitated. “If it weren’t for Matt, we’d all be living in a shoe box.”
“You’re playing the guilt card?” And it worked, because she knew that if it wasn’t for all these new, unfamiliar feelings she would have helped Matt in an instant. Not only because it was a way of avoiding all the bridal showers they had booked that summer, but because he was a friend and Paige was right. She would always, always help a friend.
“Is this about the whole glasses thing? Has my brother upset you? Is that why you don’t want to help?”
“No.” Heat spread around the back of her neck. “He’s a great guy. Strong, principled, decent—” and insanely hot.
And it was the insanely hot part that was stopping her volunteering to help.
Normally she didn’t have any problems around men. It was simple. She wasn’t interested. But with Matt it was different. With Matt it was—confusing.
Paige touched her arm. “Matt has always looked out for me. He’s always been there for me.”
“I know.” The Walker family loyalty was something she envied. Instead of trying to cause each other maximum stress and embarrassment, they pulled together. It was a family dynamic so far removed from her own experience she barely recognized it.
“It would be good to be able to return the favor for once.”
“Except I’d be the one returning the favor.”
“You’d do the work, but it would have an impact on all of us. We’re a team.” Paige paused. “You and Matt think alike and you have similar taste and style when it comes to all things outdoors. He thinks you’re so talented. After you did the planting for his roof terrace he wouldn’t shut up about how smart you are. And I know you admire his work, too. I would have thought you would jump at the chance to do something together.”
Do something together?
Images danced across her brain and heat spread across her neck. “I’ll think about it.”
Paige studied her. “Are you sure this isn’t about the whole glasses thing? Because—”
“It’s not about the glasses thing.”
It was about the door thing. And the compliment thing. And the chemistry thing.
Mostly, the chemistry thing.
“Has he told you that the client has built financial penalties into the contract so if the job falls behind it costs Matt directly?”
“No. He didn’t mention that.”
Guilt intensified.
Paige was right; she had her apartment and her independence because of Matt.
True, she paid him rent, but it was a friendly rent. And it was stupid to worry about the chemistry and her reaction to him. She needed to learn to handle it.
Brooding, she made her purchases and they walked on through the market.
Towering plants, specialty cut flowers, tropical flowers and dried botanicals crowded the sidewalk on both sides, creating a lush avenue with a sultry feel. Usually it calmed her, but not today.
Paige reached out to touch the leaves of a tropical palm tree. The thicket of greenery blocked out the sound of traffic and for a moment it was possible to forget they were in the middle of the city. “Talking of Urban Genie, we need to discuss the Smyth-Bennett engagement party in a couple of weeks.”
Frankie’s heart sank.
Another engagement party.
“What is there to discuss?”
“They want to change the brief.”
“Isn’t it a bit late for that?”
“They’re the clients.” Paige shrugged. “They want something more romantic. Or rather, the bride-to-be does and the groom-to-be is going along with it.”
“How have we ended up doing so many romantic events?” She stuck her face in a bunch of flowers. “Whatever happened to product launches and corporate functions?”
“We have those booked in, too, but it’s summer and love is in the air.”
“Francesca! Francesca! Is that really you?”
Recognizing her mother’s voice, Frankie shrank back into the nearest store. “Oh crap, no.”
Paige turned. “Stay calm.”
“Why? Can we hide? Is it too late? Why is she here? How did she find me?”
“I don’t think she was looking for you. I’m guessing it’s a chance encounter.”
Frankie moaned. “Party dress?”
Paige peeped around the flowers. “Purple. Sparkly. Short. It’s either a party dress or she’s cheerfully dressed for breakfast. She’s channeling the showgirl look.”
“Kill me now. This place is heaving with people. I know some of them. If she talks to me for more than five seconds I’ll have to move to Seattle.”
“Then we’ll make this quick because I can’t see myself in Seattle. I’d love the coffee, but the climate would kill me.” Paige stepped into the street and Frankie followed her, grabbing her arm.
“Is she on her own?”
“No.”
“Is he younger than us?”
“Hard to tell, but he’s certainly a long way from retirement.” Paige braced her shoulders, the way she did when she handled a difficult client. “Good morning, Mrs. Cole.”
“Paige!” Gina Cole teetered up to them, clutching the arm of a man Frankie guessed to be in his midtwenties. “How many times have I told you to call me Gina? Mrs. Cole makes me sound so old. You’re looking very pale, Paige. I hope you’re not sick again, honey.”
“I’m not sick.” Paige kept her tone civil. “It’s five thirty in the morning and—”
“You need a good foundation. I can recommend one, although personally I like to layer different products and I’m a total fan of strobing. Look at my skin. You wouldn’t guess I haven’t been to sleep yet, would you?” She tugged at the arm of the man next to her. “Have you met Dev? Dev, meet Paige and Frankie. Frankie is—” there was a brief moment of hesitation “—my daughter.”
“No way.” Dev responded with the appropriate amount of disbelief, and Frankie caught Paige’s eye.
Seeing her friend’s amusement made her feel better, until she saw her mother slide her hand over Dev’s butt and squeeze.
“Mom—”
“Have you girls been up all night partying, too?”
“No. We’re working.”
“Well, I guess that explains your appearance. These things matter, Frankie! You don’t want to let yourself go, honey. You are never going to attract a man looking as if you raided a charity store. I could transform you if you’d let me. Underneath that shaggy hair and those baggy clothes—” Gina waved a manicured hand and the bangles on her wrist jangled “—you have the same body shape as me. You could look like me if you tried harder.”
Horrified, Frankie backed away. She’d spent her life trying hard not to look, or be, anything like her mother. “I like the way I am.”
“You could be pretty. Don’t you think she could be pretty, Dev?”
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