Lone Star Wedding (11 page)

Hannah gave the matter a great deal of thought. J. D. Malone hadn't put on airs tonight, nor had he gushed in an effort to put her and Adrienne at ease. Whether it had been precalculated or not, his no-nonsense attitude had made her feel surprisingly comfortable. But being comfortable around a man and finding goodness in him were two entirely different things.

“It isn't that J.D. is a hard man to like,” she said, placing a bridal veil that had arrived late that afternoon on a high shelf. “He's a hard man to get to know.” His manners were certainly impeccable. She thought of the way he'd turned the air-conditioning off, the way he shook her hand, and the delicious meal he'd invited her to share. “To tell you the truth, I felt a little sorry for him.”

“You're kidding.”

The sheer surprise in Parker's voice drew Hannah around. He was still wearing his business suit, but he'd removed his tie and opened the top button on his light blue dress shirt. He was tall and lean, and although he had a tan, there were shadows under his eyes, and an edginess in his movements. There was a ranginess about Parker, a kind of pent-up energy that needed to be worked off.

“I was planning to take a walk as soon as I took care of a few details for a wedding I'm planning. Care to join me?” she asked.

He nodded, but she could tell his mind was still on her last comment. She wondered how long he would wait to ask her to explain herself.

Her store was on the edge of the downtown district. She and Parker had strolled the business area the last time they'd taken a walk. Tonight they ducked through the alley and came out in a residential neighborhood. The sun had set an hour ago and the moon was a sliver low in the sky. There were streetlights on the corners, and mercury lights on most garages. The houses in this section were old and in a continuous state of repair. It seemed that every summer, somebody on the block was scraping peeling paint or shoring up a porch or replanting a trampled yard. The people who lived in this neighborhood carried their lunches, and made their living driving buses, working in factories, on pipelines or in grocery stores. These houses weren't nearly as grand as the house she'd been in tonight. The people who lived in them rarely had any money left at the end of a month, let alone enough to worry about losing in investments. They had problems. Everyone did, but for the most part, the people in this neighborhood weren't lonely. She'd sensed that J. D. Malone was. And so was his son.

She doubted Parker would welcome the notion or the comparison. Matching her stride to his longer one, she
said, “I got the feeling your father was interested in Adrienne.”

“You're very astute.”

So she was right, about that at least. “That's why I felt a little sorry for him.”

“Go on.”

“It's just that he's all alone, and she shut him down cold.”

“That's what you think.”

Hannah's head came up, her gaze finding Parker's. He had the grace to shrug. “I doubt Adrienne has seen the last of my father.”

“You don't know Adrienne like I do.”

“I know how my father's mind works. He asked about the beauty pageant after she left. Did she do it?”

Rather than crossing the street, Hannah and Parker strode around the block, heading back the way they'd come. “Are you asking if Adrienne slept with that contest judge?”

Parker's nod was followed closely by a brief shake of Hannah's head.

“Are you saying she lost fair and square?”

“Let's just say somebody had some incriminating evidence.”

Parker was beginning to get the picture. “The girl who won had possession of this evidence. Am I correct?”

“It was pretty incriminating,” Hannah said, “but nonconclusive.”

They'd reached the street in front of The Perfect Occasion. Parker's car was sitting at the curb. Striding to it, they leaned against the front fender, facing the store.

“How nonconclusive was it?” Parker asked.

She turned slightly, her body straining forward, as if she were completely intent upon clearing her friend's name.
“Adrienne was in love with the judge of that contest. He was older. Her first serious relationship. No matter what the tape recording indicated, she didn't sleep with him. It turned out the girl who won did that. Adrienne
says
she was shattered because she lost. But really, she was shattered because she'd been
used
by a man she'd loved.”

“I thought judges weren't allowed access to contestants, and vice versa.”

“Usually, they aren't. National pageants have nearly impenetrable systems to make sure judges and contestants don't mix, but it's harder to enforce at the local level. Where there's a will, there's a way, I guess.”

A horn honked at the corner, the bump of a teenager's bass pulsating through the night air. A breeze stirred Hannah's hair, raising goosebumps on her arms. Parker shook his head at the idea that anybody could be cold when it was still so warm outside. He shrugged out of his suit coat, and slipped it over her shoulders.

“What happened to the judge?”

“He and his tiara queen went on to make a fortune in the music industry in Nashville.”

Lowering his voice so nobody else could hear him, he said, “If my instincts are correct, J.D. is going to look into the matter. When J.D. looks into a matter, the perpetrators usually get what's coming to them.”

She blinked, obviously dismayed. Keeping her voice as low as his had been, she said, “The other man won't find himself trapped beneath something heavy, will he?”

Parker smiled at her wry humor. “Don't worry. My father won't break the law. But that former contest judge might find himself in the throes of a string of bad luck.”

She stared at him for a long time, so long, he wondered what she saw. Finally she said, “You've found goodness in your father all by yourself.”

“I've always known there was goodness in my father, Hannah.”

“Then why the experiment?”

“I told you. I wanted the opportunity to see things from your perspective. It's possible that I wanted to spend time with you, as well.”

Hannah didn't know what to say. Parker's voice had been like the wind after midnight, a deep sigh, a gentle mooning, a slow sweep across her senses. Gripping a lapel in each fist, she crossed her hands over her heart. Her brother Cole swore she was the only woman on the planet who could be cold when it was seventy-eight degrees out. She was warm now, but this heat had more to do with what was happening inside her than with the jacket Parker had draped over her shoulders.

She could have been angered by his confession. Instead she felt honored. She doubted he spent many evenings taking walks or leaning against his car, talking. He wouldn't have had to tell her he'd wanted to spend time with her. He was a man of few words, after all. It gave what he
did
say more depth, a truer meaning.

Feeling strangely weightless, she went up on tiptoe and whispered, “J.D. isn't the only Malone who has a grain of goodness running through him.”

“A rumor like that could ruin us.”

His humor felt like a perfect end to an enchanting night. “Your secret's safe with me.” Smiling, she kissed his cheek. “Good night, Parker.”

Floating on a hazy cloud of contentment, she strode to her door and disappeared inside.

Parker didn't remember replying. And yet he couldn't seem to forget the way her breasts had brushed against his arm, ever so softly, far too fleetingly.

The type of woman he normally saw didn't end an eve
ning with a kiss on the cheek. Hannah wasn't his type. Hell, he'd known that from the beginning. Problem was, he'd never met a woman who drew him more. He didn't know where that kiss left them. And he didn't know where it would lead.

Pulling into his driveway twenty minutes later, he only knew he was looking forward to finding out.

 

“Ready?” Hannah asked the pretty, petite woman who was standing in front of the full-length baroque mirror in the back of The Perfect Occasion.

“Ready? I'm so excited I think I'm going to be sick,” Starr Weston exclaimed, a slender hand going to her abdomen.

“Don't y'all dare,” Adrienne said from an overstuffed love seat a few feet away.

“Take a deep breath,” Hannah said. “And close your eyes.” With utmost care, she placed a multitiered wedding veil, its layers trimmed with thousands of tiny, iridescent pearls, on Starr's head. Adjusting the satin and bead-covered headpiece so that it sat on her client's head like a crown, Hannah said, “Now open your eyes.”

Starr's brown eyes opened, darkened, then glazed with tears. All three women stared in reverence and in silence.

“Moonie isn't going to know what hit him,” Starr finally said in a whisper one used in church. Giddiness bubbled up inside her, spilling over. “Oh, Adrienne, you were so right. Hannah is the best wedding planner in the world. I thought it was going to be hard, and she's making it easy. It's just so important. I mean, I've been imagining my wedding day since I was twelve years old.”

“Haven't we all, sugar.”

Hannah's vision blurred, her thoughts turning hazy. It had been happening all morning, more specifically, since
she'd taken a walk with Parker last night and kissed his cheek. Like Starr and Adrienne, she'd been dreaming of her wedding day for as long as she could remember, too. Until last night her dreams had been misty affairs, with images of flowing white dresses and candlelight and flowers and gleaming silver. In every other dream, her groom had been charming, debonair, faceless. Last night the groom in her dream had had dark hair and a familiar little cleft in his chin.

She'd lain awake for a long time after, waiting for the sun to come up, thinking about Parker. She knew he was the kind of man who could keep her on her toes, and keep her warm at night. He was the kind of man who would give as much to a relationship as he took. But he wasn't the kind of man who believed in forever.

“What do you think, Hannah?”

“Hannah?”

“Earth to Hannah.”

She came to her senses, only to find Starr and Adrienne watching her closely. “I do believe Hannah has a man on her mind, Adrienne. Love is in the air, I can feel it.”

Hannah doubted she'd ever seen more stars in any other woman's eyes than in Starr Weston's right now. She loved hearing the stories of how her clients met and fell in love. Starr's tale was as unusual and romantic as she was. Standing five feet tall in her stocking feet and weighing ninety-seven pounds at the ripe old age of twenty-five, she claimed she'd always believed she would know instinctively the instant she met the man of her dreams. Two years ago a businessman named Harrison “Moonie” Leight walked into The Pink Flamingo where Starr waitressed, and whispered her name, even though he'd never seen her before. Moonie, who had made a name for himself in the oil business, literally whisked Starr away. He
proposed later that very night at the stroke of midnight, saying it was written in the stars that the two of them should be known as Moonie and Star Leight. Two years to the day, they were to be wed during a midnight ceremony at the very restaurant where they'd met.

“Here, Adrienne,” Starr said, reaching for the veil. “You try it on.”

The former Southern belle was shaking her head before Starr had plucked the veil from her own tresses. “Oh, no, y'all don't. There must be some sort of superstition associated with wearing another bride's veil before the wedding, and frankly, I don't need any more bad omens.”

“You've had a bad omen?” Starr asked, eyes that tended to look too large for her narrow face at first glance widening dramatically.

Hannah took the delicate veil from the soon-to-be bride's hands, saying, “Adrienne's been a little out of sorts ever since she met J. D. Malone.”

“Where have I heard that name?”

“It doesn't matter. He's playing dirty,” Adrienne exclaimed. “Sending me roses, pink roses, one bouquet every hour on the hour. There ought to be a law.”

“How romantic. How long has this been going on?” Starr asked.

“Since last night. I hardly got any sleep at all. Either he owns a florist shop, or he paid someone to deliver flowers all night.”

So, Hannah thought, Parker had been right. J.D. was pursuing Adrienne.

“Why didn't you just send them back?” Hannah asked.

“I did. He obviously doesn't understand the concept of no.”

Starr shook her head slowly. “You can run, Adrienne, but you can't hide from fate.”

“I'm not hiding from it, sugar, I'm avoiding it like the plague. From now on there is just no way on God's green earth that I'm going to agree to have dinner with any man over the age of thirty…say, two.”

“Moonie's fifteen years older than I am. And we're perfect for each other.”

Adrienne shrugged. “I don't have anything against May-December romances. I'm from the South, remember? Back home, women have been marrying older men for centuries. If there is indeed a May-December romance in my future, I'm going to be December, that's all.”

After stretching like a cat in a patch of sunshine, Adrienne slid her feet into lime-green high-heels and strolled out the door. Starr left soon after.

Alone, Hannah wandered through her boutique, her thoughts swirling from one thing to the next. Starr's wedding was going to be truly magnificent. She had to remember to talk to the florist about the final number of flowers for the tables. And then she should put in a call to Starr's mother, who was having a little temper tantrum about the dress the groom's mother was wearing. Tensions were always so high before weddings. Secretly, Hannah agreed that the dress was ghastly, but there was only so much she could do.

She glided her fingers over the outer edge of her desk, then moved on to the suit jacket hanging over the back of her chair. On impulse, she brought the jacket to her nose. She took one breath, and then a second deeper one. Mmm. It smelled like Parker, faintly of soap, aftershave, and fine wool.