Bed of Roses (Bride Quartet #2)(35)

"I put her name and number on your desk."

"Of course you did. It's going to cost you."

"What's your price?"

"The garage called. My car's finished, but I can't get in to pick it up today. And tomorrow's nearly as full."

"I'll take care of it."

"Knew you would." Looking at what crowded her plate, Emma rubbed the back of her neck. "The hour you save me can go toward the expectant grandma."

"I'll get back to her, take her off her tenterhooks, and let her know you'll be in touch. And speaking of touch, have you talked to Jack?"

"No. I'm in the mulling and musing stage. If I talked to him I'd start thinking how much I'd like to jump him or be jumped by him. Which, of course, since I brought it up, I'm thinking about right now."

"Should I give you a moment of privacy?"

"Very funny. I told him we needed to stop and think, so I'm stopping and thinking." Her brow creased and she made her voice prim. "Sex isn't everything."

"Since you have more of it-and offers for more of it-than I do, I'll bow to your superior knowledge."

"That's because I'm not intimidating." She flicked Parker a glance. "I didn't mean that as an insult."

"I don't mind being intimidating. It saves time. Which," she added with a look at her watch, "I have to consider now. I'm meeting a bride in town. Mac's got a delivery to make. I'll run and catch her before she goes, have her drop me off at the garage. I should be back by four. Don't forget we have an evening consult tonight. Six thirty."

"I've got it on my appointment book."

"I'll see you then. Thanks, Emma. Really," Parker added as she hurried out again.



       
         
       
        

Alone, Emma cleaned off her work area before reaching for the Neosporin she used like other women used hand cream. With her latest nicks and scratches tended, she set up for her consult.

Satisfied with the selection of arrangements, photo albums, and magazines, she called the number Parker had left her-and made a grandmother-to-be very happy. As they spoke she took notes, made calculations on the number of baby roses, mini calla lilies. Pink for the roses, white for the callas. More calculations as she designed the larger arrangement in her head. Eggplant callas, Bianca roses, pink spray roses.

Sweet, female, but with elegant touches-if she read the client correctly. She added to her notes, jotted down the time and place for delivery, and promised the client an e-mail contract and itemization by midafternoon.

Gauging the time, she put in a hurried call to her wholesaler, then popped up to peel off her work clothes and suit up.

While she freshened her makeup, she wondered if Jack was musing and mulling.

On impulse, she dashed to her computer to send him an e-mail.

I'm still thinking. Are you?

She hit Send before she could change her mind.





IN HIS OFFICE, JACK CHECKED THE CHANGES HIS ASSOCIATE had done. The new construction project continued to be tweaked as the clients waffled. They wanted stately, he thought, and they'd gotten it. They'd also wanted six fireplaces. Until they'd decided they needed nine. And an elevator.

The latest change involved enclosing the projected swimming pool for year-round use and attaching it to the house via a breezeway.

Nice job, Chip, he thought even as he made a couple of small changes. He studied the result, then the drawings submitted by the structural engineer.

Good, he decided. Very, very good. The dignity of Georgian Colonial wasn't compromised. And the client could do laps in January.

Everybody's happy.

He started to send an e-mail clearing the drawings for submission to the client, and noticed the mail from Emma.

He clicked it open, read the single line.

Was she kidding?

Every thought that didn't revolve around her-particularly a naked her-was a struggle. Everything he'd done that morning had taken twice as long as it should have because he was thinking.

No point in telling her that, he decided. So just how did he answer? He angled his head, and smiled as he hit Reply.

I'm thinking you should come over tonight wearing nothing but a trench coat and elbow pads.

After he clicked Send, he sat back and imagined-very well-what Emma might look like in a trench coat. And maybe really high heels, he thought. Red ones. And once he'd loosened the belt of the coat, he'd- 

"Got the go to come on back."

With his mind still opening a trench coat-short, black-Jack stared at Del.

"So hey, where the hell are you?"

"Ah . . . just work. Drawings." Shit. Casually, he hoped, he brought up his screen saver. "No work for you?"