Lone Star Wedding. Sandra Steffen
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when you have an evening free,” J.D. said. “I’ll have my cook broil some steaks. You look like you could use a cattleman’s cut, medium rare.”
Parker hadn’t planned to smile. “I’ll do that, Father.”
J.D. smiled, too, but only briefly. And then he headed for the office. The father-son moment was over. It was business as usual.
An hour later Parker strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His windows were down, but there wasn’t much air moving in downtown San Antonio today. Consequently, the plush leather seats felt at least a hundred and five degrees.
Come on, come on. He was parked along Smith Street, two car lengths away from a storefront painted a subtle charming beige. Two women, probably a mother and her grown daughter, had left a few minutes ago, arms filled with books and bags, heads undoubtedly filled with wedding plans.
It was twelve o’clock on the dot when he got out of his car and headed for the building bearing the sign The Perfect Occasion. A wind chime jingled softly when he opened the door, and air that was slightly cooler greeted him.
Hannah glanced up, the ready smile on her face suddenly looking a little less steady. “Parker, what are you doing here?”
He strolled farther into the room, the epitome of nonchalance, a hand on one hip, the other fiddling with a clasp he picked up off her desk. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop in and say hello.” He failed to mention that Ryan “just happened” to drop the name of Hannah’s business in passing that very day. He paused. “Is your air-conditioning on the blink?”
“No, why?”
His gaze made a quick trip over her sleeveless dress. She appeared cool and comfortable. “Never mind. I’m on my way to lunch. Care to join me?”
He could tell from her expression what her answer was going to be. Raising a hand, he said, “Would it sway your decision if I told you how much trouble I went to and how much time I spent juggling appointments so I could just happen to be in the neighborhood right now?”
“If you would have called first,” Hannah said, straightening pamphlets lying on her desk, “I could have saved you the trouble.”
“That’s a marvelous idea. I should know. I’ve tried it. You won’t take my calls.” He waited until she looked up to grace her with his sexiest smile. “And I take it you don’t like flowers.”
Her hands stilled for a moment, then resumed their task.
“Come on, Hannah. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for weeks. Even my father thinks it’s taking a toll on me. From the looks of all the brochures and swatches of material and files in this room, you’ve been busy, too. I have to eat. You have to eat. We might as well eat together.”
He gave her a second dose of his sexy smile.
“I can’t, Parker.”
Parker understood a simple no when he heard one. This wasn’t a courtroom, and she wasn’t a witness he could badger. She was a woman, and she’d made herself perfectly clear. He straightened and carefully returned the clasp to the edge of her desk. He did a quick inventory of the room. There were framed photographs on several shelves behind her; a yellow flowered sofa sat at a comfortable angle near a matching overstuffed chair. White lights were strung through the fronds of huge potted plants. Balloons bobbed from strings that were tied to an antique filing cabinet, a cardboard cut-out clown propped nearby.
It occurred to him that Hannah Cassidy made her living from planning more than weddings. Redistributing his weight to one foot, he said, “I’d like to hire you.”
“What?”
She had a suspicious mind. He’d given her good reason for it. “I’m thinking about having a party.”
“You’re kidding.” Her disbelief showed in the tone of her voice. Recovering slightly, she said, “What kind of party?”
“I don’t know. I just thought of it.”
“Parker, why are you really here?”
That was a good question. He worded his answer very carefully. “It isn’t because I have a lot of idle time. It’s just the opposite. Yesterday I was trying to talk an irate husband out of hiring a private investigator to follow his wife, whom he suspected was cheating. I was in the middle of trying to explain that in no-fault divorce states, there’s no use. Suddenly your image crowded into my brain. You’re interfering with my concentration.”
Hannah didn’t know what to say. Doggone it, she felt complimented. She had no business feeling that way. She and Parker were complete opposites. While she planned weddings down to the smallest detail, he took marriages apart, asset by asset.
“Look. I have an appointment across town with a very anxious bride to be.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a price list and several brochures depicting the different themes she’d used in planning parties. Placing the pamphlets near the edge of her desk, she said, “You can look these over, if you’d like. If you truly want my help planning a party, let me know. Otherwise…”
He glanced at the brochures, the rest of her statement hanging in the air, unfinished. That “otherwise” spoke volumes. He could hire her services as a party planner, but she didn’t plan to see him socially.
“I see,” he said. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
“Goodbye, Parker.”
Hannah watched him stride toward the door. It was in her own best interests to let him go. And she was letting him go. It was better this way. A clean break from what could have turned out to be a disastrous relationship.
She covered her lips with three fingers, remembering how it had felt to kiss him. If she let him go, how would she ever know what might have been?
She didn’t need to know. It was for the best. For both of them.
She wondered if he’d really been burning the candle at both ends. Had there been shadows beneath his eyes?
“Parker?”
His fingers were already wrapped around the doorknob when he turned around. His eyes looked hooded. She couldn’t read their expression from here. “You forgot your brochures.”
He retraced his steps, taking the brochures from her outstretched hand. Praying she didn’t regret this, she took a breath for courage and said, “I can’t have lunch with you, but I could free up my schedule for this evening. We could talk about this party you suddenly want to have then.”
The eyes staring into hers filled with a curious intensity. “Dinner?” he asked.
She pushed her chair out and stood. “That would be too much like a date.”
There was a good reason for that, Parker thought. “What else did you have in mind?”
“Do you own a bike?”
“A motorcycle?”
She shook her head. “A bicycle.”
“Not since I was thirteen.”
“That’s what I thought. You probably don’t have a pair of in-line skates in the back of your closet, either. Something tells me you get your exercise playing racquetball or walking on a treadmill. I prefer more spontaneous activities.”
Parker had the strangest urge to defend himself.
“Maybe we could go for a walk,” she said.
“You want to take a walk?”
She smiled. “That sounds lovely. Thanks, I’d love to.”
Parker shook his head. She thought she was so smart. That was okay. He happened to like smart women. “I’ll stop by around seven.”
“You can if you want to, but I won’t be back until seven-thirty.” She