She looked down the page. “Oh. I see.”
Uneasiness settled in George’s mind. He had to get over this attraction to the beautiful woman sitting opposite him. Twice he’d nearly slipped up and said “my employer.” If he wasn’t careful, his employer’s name could pop out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Fear of losing his job if he slipped up and revealed too much made him sit straighter and try to reconstruct the barrier around his heart to keep Anne Hawthorne’s big blue eyes from getting under his defenses.
He watched Anne carefully as she read through the details Courtney had given him over the phone. Most of the outlandish requests—such as having caviar flown in from an importer in San Francisco for the engagement party—were from his employer, not Courtney. Over the years, George had heard all about the extravagances other wealthy American couples had included in their weddings.
But while his employer wanted to best them all, he’d left the task of hiring a wedding planner in Courtney’s hands. As much as George respected Anne Hawthorne’s abilities, she might not be the correct person to pull it off. Although the article Courtney had shown him boasted of the number of weddings Anne Hawthorne had planned in her career, was she capable of organizing and executing an event of this magnitude?
She reached for her Rolodex and flipped through several of the sections before she stopped and pulled out a card. “I’ve worked with Delmonico’s in New York before.” She flipped through a few more sections. “And I know someone at Pskow Caviar Importers, too.” She clipped both cards to the page.
His skepticism decreased a notch. “At the bottom are several local restaurants. Courtney wants some regional dishes included as well.”
She continued to read, then opened her top drawer and withdrew a red pen, which she used to cross through one of the names on the list. “Pellatier’s closed down six months ago.”
“I will inform my…Courtney next time I speak with her.”
“Thank you.” She set the questionnaire aside. “This will allow me to work on a revised budget in the next few days. I may need to call you if I have questions on some of the items we did not discuss today, however.” Her expression asked his permission.
“Please, call me anytime you need to.”
Her responding smile was beautiful, but tight and forced.
She didn’t trust him. The truth stung, but he didn’t really blame her. He was being dishonest with her, after all. More than anything, he wanted to earn this woman’s trust and respect to ensure she wouldn’t hate him when the truth was made known.
Father God, after all this is over, how will I ever deserve forgiveness from either You or Anne?
He kept his tone light, positive, and helpful as they reviewed the remaining paperwork he’d labored over all weekend. To his relief, she had only a few questions, which he was able to answer.
The clock on the credenza behind Anne chimed ten thirty, and she set the paperwork aside. “Are you ready to go see some possible sites for the engagement party?”
He stood. “At your service, ma’am.”
She smiled and crossed to the front door, yet did not exit. Instead, she locked it and turned over the sign hanging in the window to let passersby know the office was closed. She led him through the arched doorway at the rear of the office down a hall lined with boxes spilling their contents onto the hardwood floor. Silk flowers, fabrics, glassware, candelabra, and other decorative items glinted in the soft incandescent light.
“Most of this is for the wedding I have this coming weekend.” Anne folded back a tablecloth dangling over the edge of a box.
He nodded, distracted by the lock of golden hair that had escaped her conservative French twist and skimmed the curve of her neck. He wanted to reach out and remove the Spanish-style comb holding her hair back. She was beautiful with it up, but he was sure when she had it down—
No. He clasped his hands behind his back as he followed her through a small kitchen and out the back door to the alley where her car was parked. He had to stay professional, at least as long as she thought he was the groom.
She used a remote to unlock the doors of a midsize Americanmade convertible.
Without thinking, he crossed to the car and opened the driver’s door. She paused a moment, surprise flickering across her face. Although the expression disappeared in a split second, her cheeks remained a bit more pink than normal.
His own face flared with heat. “I beg your indulgence, ma’am, but in England, one always holds open a door for a lady.”
She smiled. “No need to apologize. It’s still a common practice here in the South, too. Thank you.” She climbed in, and he secured the door.
As he went around to the other side, she started the engine and closed the roof. After he was situated inside, she handed him several packets of collated pages.
“Here is information on each of the sites we’ll be visiting today. I thought you might like to know a little about each place before we arrive.”
He regarded her from the corner of his eye as she reached behind her to put her case on the backseat, fastened her seat belt, slid on a pair of stylish sunglasses, and shifted the car into reverse.
Glancing through the brochures, he looked for the best aspects of each locale. He didn’t want Anne to think he was focusing only on the negatives, but with the list of requirements Courtney had passed along to him this morning, he wondered if they’d be able to find a place.
By the time they left the third site, Anne was annoyed with him. He tried to be positive, but none of the three would be suitable.
The first, a privately owned park, was too close to the motorway and the airport. While they looked at the beautiful open pavilion, the owner’s description of the amenities was drowned out by a jet coming in for a landing.
The second site, a converted nineteenth-century sugar refinery, had an impressive view of downtown Bonneterre, but the narrow, winding carriageway wasn’t paved and wasn’t conducive to the limousines or luxury cars the guests would be arriving in.
The third site, the courtyard of the university’s horticultural gardens, was fine until the groundskeeper mentioned the building would be undergoing internal restoration beginning next week and would be inaccessible to the guests, necessitating portaloos—not acceptable.
Anne drove across the campus toward the fourth property, and George’s hopes rose. The driveway was wide and well paved. The crepe myrtles that lined the drive were covered in bright pink blossoms—Courtney’s favorite color.
“How long do the trees bloom?”
“All summer. Since it stays so warm here, they don’t usually lose their color until October.”
The building they approached resembled his employer’s antebellum mansion, except on a grander scale, and sat on a bluff overlooking a small lake to the west and the college campus to the east, which should appeal to his employer’s sense of the dramatic.
Anne parked near the building under one of the enormous shade trees that encircled the lot. A young woman—pretty with ginger hair—met them on the wide porch that wrapped all the way around the building.
When the two women exchanged a kiss on the cheek, George was struck by how much they favored each other.
Anne turned and motioned toward him. “George Laurence, this is Meredith Guidry, executive director of events and facilities for Boudreaux-Guidry Enterprises.”
Mededith was slimmer and several inches shorter than Anne, but her handshake was surprisingly strong. “Welcome to Lafitte’s Landing, Mr. Laurence.”
“Guidry… ?” He glanced from Meredith to Anne and back. “Are you related, by chance, to Forbes Guidry?”
Meredith smiled. “He’s my brother.”