Always the Wedding Planner, Never the Bride (18 page)

Sherilyn saw her own life as a series of rolling hills, a dip here and an incline there, but Andy's life was a mountain range, a solid vista of rock upon rock upon rock; a well-built and firmly established saga. Emma and her family were the closest she had to it. Anything that came before them had been washed away in the flood.

She snapped out of her own thoughts the moment Andy's eyes met hers. From twenty yards or more away, he'd plugged in, and the electrical current jolted her a bit. Her heartbeat picked up its rhythm as he moved toward her, smiling one of those all-encompassing Andy Drummond smiles at her, until her breath caught in her throat.

When he reached her, Andy offered his hand. She softly placed hers into it, not sure where he planned to lead her but knowing she would follow him anywhere.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked him when they turned the corner and headed down the corridor, away from the ballroom.

He didn't reply, just tossed her a casual grin over his shoulder as he tightened his grip on her hand and led her around another corner.

"Andy?"

When he finally came to a stop and led her into the darkest corner he could find, Andy turned toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her close to him, so close that his breath felt hot on her cheek. He smelled of distant spices, and his wavy brown hair fell across his forehead as he angled his face down toward her.

Sherilyn's pulse pressed hard against her chest, and a trail of goosebumps skittered up her spine from the spot where Andy's hand rested on the small of her back.

"We've been a little off since we came to Atlanta," he said with a whisper, and she nodded. "I just wanted us to take a minute to remind ourselves who we really are."

Sherilyn fell into his embrace, and his warm breath thrilled her as his lips hovered over hers for a moment before he finally kissed her. She felt that kiss to the tips of her polished toes as she melted into a warm liquid version of herself. Even her hair tingled as flashes of their relationship beginnings simmered over her.

"Tomorrow," he said, his eyes sleepy and intimate.

"Tomorrow?" Her voice was broken, like shards of colored glass.

"Let's go on a date," he suggested. "To remind ourselves."

A brisk flow of eager enthusiasm coursed through her. "Really?"

"I want us to spend the day together. Can you manage it?" She nodded.

"I'll meet you in the restaurant at 8:30, and we'll have breakfast. Afterward, I'll take you to services at the church where I went while I was growing up. Then I'll plan a whole day for just the two of us. No wedding plans or talk of jobs or mortgages or the future. Just you and me. Andy and Sherilyn."

"That sounds—"

Just in the knick of time.

"—really good."

French toast stuffed with strawberry preserves and cream cheese, sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon . . . hot bold-roast coffee with real cream . . . a table by the window just in time for the show as the first winter snowflakes fluttered to the sidewalk. When Andy Drummond planned a date, he left no snowflake unturned. Sherilyn had almost forgotten that.

She wore black leggings beneath a long cornflower blue cashmere sweater with chunky four-inch Mary Janes, doublestrapped with a black leather bow. She was so glad she'd decided to pack her favorite winter coat rather than ship it later with the rest of her things. The black DKNY coat with the standing collar and ruffled edges was a last-minute addition when she packed up the Explorer, and it was perfect with the pale pink gloves, scarf, and furry earmuffs Emma brought her that morning when she heard it might snow.

Andy surprised her when he wore black jeans to church, but she figured whatever he had planned for their date must have required it. When he rounded the car and opened her door, Sherilyn couldn't help grinning like a schoolgirl. He looked so handsome in the camel-colored shawl neck pullover, just a hint of a black tee-shirt peeking out from beneath it, and the

long black wool coat. Sherilyn faced him and pulled his coat shut, fastening the third button.

One side of his mouth curled up into a curious smile, and Andy returned the favor by adjusting the scarf around her neck.

"Ready?" he asked her.

"Ready," she replied. It wasn't quite true, but she decided to be positive.

Andy's family church was indeed a bit of a cathedral, just as he'd said. The walk from the parking lot was a long one, slowed down by the throng of people ahead of them. Massive windows of jeweled glass, stone carvings, and a steeple that reached well into the dark gray sky paved the way into a cavernous nineteenth-century interior where hundreds of people occupied ornate pews and followed the path of scarlet carpet toward the resplendent altar.

"And you didn't feel like we could have a small, intimate ceremony here?" she teased as they followed the neat line of people into the sanctuary.

Andy chuckled, and Sherilyn pulled off her gloves and tucked them into the pocket of her coat. She fluffed her hair as she removed the earmuffs and loosened her scarf. The natural flow of churchgoers landed them at the far end of a row, about two-thirds of the way back from the front of the church, and Andy helped her off with her coat before they sat down. A robed choir began to sing from the loft behind them, accompanied by the largest pipe organ Sherilyn had ever seen.

The church service was lovely, and the minister spoke about the approaching holiday season and the importance of maintaining a simple, basic perspective, which Sherilyn found just the slightest bit silly when issued from the podium of such a massive and elaborate altar. But Reverend Baker seemed sincere enough, his congregation amiable and attentive. She

couldn't help wondering what it must have been like for Andy to share his spiritual upbringing with so many hundreds of other people. The church she'd attended sporadically while growing up could have fit into the choir loft.

Andy had taken her to his church in Chicago on their third date, and she knew she'd found a church home before the service ended that morning. Pastor McCann offered just the right balance of compassion and fervor to reach down into Sherilyn's heart. The contemporary music ministered to her soul, and the people she met there had embraced her into the fold almost immediately. It had been a rough good-bye that last Sunday in Chicago.

As they sang the closing hymn, she found herself hoping she and Andy could find something similar there in Atlanta. Certainly, the right fit in a church home awaited them.

"Andrew?"

They both turned back to find Vanessa waving at them from the midst of a slow-moving crowd. Grinning, she made her way toward them.

"That is you!" she cried as she reached them. "I couldn't believe my eyes!" Vanessa hugged her son, then she surprised Sherilyn by embracing her as well. "I'm so happy to see you both here. What do you think of our family church, Sherilyn? It's quite impressive, don't you think?"

"It is that," she replied. "The glasswork is spectacular."

"Don't get any ideas, Mother," Andy warned her.

"What do you mean?" she casually asked.

"You know exactly what I mean," he said with a grin, and he planted a warm kiss on her cheek. "Where are you parked?"

"Three rows over," she stated. "Will you come to brunch?"

Sherilyn hesitated, not wanting to hurt Vanessa's feelings, but she had no interest in waiting any longer to discover what Andy had planned for them.

"I'm sorry, we can't today," he answered for them. "But if you're free for lunch tomorrow, I thought I'd take you around to have a look at the new house."

"Oh, that would be lovely. Sherilyn, will you join us?"

"I can't tomorrow. I have two new clients coming in for consultations."

"Oh, that's a pity," Vanessa said, and Sherilyn almost believed her. "We'll plan a time to get together soon, just the two of us."

"I'd really like that."

Vanessa tugged on the collar of Andy's coat. "Pick me up at noon, and I'll make a reservation at Shillings."

"Downstairs?" he asked with a Cheshire grin.

"Don't be ridiculous. We'll dine upstairs, as always."

Andy chuckled and kissed his mother's hand as they parted ways.

"Upstairs is china and linens, I'm guessing," Sherilyn said on their way to the car.

"The Top of the Square," he replied. "And downstairs is The Streetside Grille."

"Pub?"

"Yep."

"Are you sure you weren't adopted?"

"You know, I wonder about that more and more all the time."

"I used to come here as a kid. They only had the large rink back then, but now they've built the smaller one, and they host what's called a
cosmic skate
on Sunday afternoons."

Andy looped the lace on his skate before kneeling in front of Sherilyn and tying hers.

"What's a cosmic skate?" she asked him.

"Colored lights, fog machine, music. A real production." He offered his hand and helped her to her wobbly feet. She stopped along the way to brush a wad of white dog fur from Andy's sleeve.

"I hope I don't fall," she said softly as they made their way out into the arena. "I don't want to embarrass you."

"You're not going to fall. You always think you're going to, but you'll get your blade legs again the minute you get out on the ice."

With her arm looped tightly through his, Sherilyn allowed him to lead her through the gate and out to the ice. After a few shaky moments, she released her hold on him and grinned.

"Okay," she said over a deep breath. "Okay!"

"Are you good?"

"I'm good," she nodded. "Like riding a bike, right?" "Absolutely."

And in the next moment, she proved him completely wrong when her feet skidded out from under her and she bumped along about six feet on her fanny and klunked to a stop.

Andy placed his hands under her arms and pulled her to her feet again.

They made a jagged circle around the rink, Sherilyn clinging to Andy until the shooting pain of her grip on his arm finally caused it to go numb. On the second time around, she started to relax a little; and on the third lap, she actually grinned at him.

"Andy, I'm so happy you thought of this," she said, looking up at him with a warm smile. She noticed another clump of fur on his shoulder and plucked it off.

"I wanted to recreate something we did back in Chicago, something that would bring back a good memory."

"This was a good choice."

Colored lights and lasers lit up the place like a carnival show, blinking out the rhythm of 1970s disco, and Andy covered Sherilyn's gloved hand with his own as they moved about the rink. He hadn't been out on the ice in far too long. He'd almost forgotten how much he loved it. His preferred activity on the ice involved a puck and a hockey stick, but skating had been one of the first things he and Sherilyn had found in common after they'd met.

In front of them, a mother held the hands of two adolescents, both of whom possessed far more aplomb on the ice than she, and a couple of teenagers skated alongside them with eyes devoted only to one another.

"Did you come here with your mother?" Sherilyn asked, eyeing the mother and children ahead of them.

"Ha!" he popped with one hard chuckle at the thought. "Not to skate. She's more of a sit-on-the-sidelines-and-watchwhile-sipping-hot-cocoa kind of mother. My dad and I skated though." The memory warmed him. "He used to try and convince her to give it a try by saying things like, 'Ice is just water that refuses to let people go swimming in it, Van.' But she would just wave her hand at him and sit down somewhere."

"We'll take our children skating together, as a family," Sherilyn declared, and he looked at her carefully. She looked almost angelic amid the artificial fog and brilliant lasers, with the soft cloud of the pink scarf tied loosely around her throat and the puffy mounds of fur over each ear.

When she caught him looking at her, she blushed. "What?"

"You are so beautiful," he told her, and he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her gloved knuckles.

"And you are blind."

"Blinded by love," he teased.

She called him out on the retort. "You're a cornball," she said, and they laughed together as they skated around the large circle, hand-in-hand.