Once Tempted (40 page)

T
ESS HAD A
clipboard in one hand, a pen tucked behind her right ear, and a cup of coffee—number three of the day and it was only eight
A.M.
—cradled in her other. Her cell, encased in a jewel-encrusted “bling” case that Anna had sent her as a good-luck gag present, was dangling from her wrist by a white strap, at the ready. The most recent call had been from Samantha Nicholls. She was packing up the flowers and would be leaving within the hour.

Tess paused to sip her coffee as she scanned the grounds. Walter the handyman and his crew of groundskeepers were busy carrying tables and chairs and arranging them in clusters for the cocktails and champagne that would begin flowing after the five-o’clock ceremony had ended. Less than nine hours remained until then, but things were going well. So far there hadn’t been a single glitch or crisis—minor or major league—to fix.

The morning was beautiful, the ranch awash in the greens of late California spring, their hues enhanced by the pinks, yellows, and violets of flowers that danced in the light breeze.

With a wave to Walter and a call to Pedro, Walter’s nephew who’d been lending an extra pair of hands all
week, that one of the tables should be moved a little closer to the flower bed, where there was a big clump of peonies and Siberian irises, she continued her inspection, moving toward the dinner tent. Against the vibrant green of the grass, the tent, pristine white and designed with a scalloped roofline, looked spectacular. It made her think of a medieval pageant. She stepped inside. The company had done an excellent job stringing the bistro lights. Tess and Walter had done a test run the night before while the guests were enjoying their barbecue up at the lodge. The effect of the lighting was magical. And it would look even more so once Samantha installed the hanging floral arrangements and the long tables were covered with white linen, the tables set, the small lanterns lit, the sweet bouquets placed in pretty tin vases, and the tent filled with laughter and happiness for the wedded couple.

The wood laminate dance floor was folded in the center of the tent. In the afternoon, when the tables were set, the floor would be carried outside, and torches and more tables would be arranged for the evening’s celebration. According to the forecast, the glorious California weather would hold. Carrie and Brian would get their night of dancing beneath a full moon and a star-studded sky.

Then, after Carrie and Brian had mingled with their friends and family and had danced their fill, they would slip back to their cabin that Tess and Anita, the head housekeeper, would have transformed into a romantic bower.

Once again, Tess glanced down at her clipboard. She flipped to the fourth page and made sure she had champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries marked down. She’d scribbled so many notes to herself that there were moments when she couldn’t sort out what she’d written from what she’d intended to write.

Yup, she thought with relief. She hadn’t lost her mind yet. The champagne and strawberries were noted and at the ready. Roo had the strawberries waiting on a tray in the refrigerator. She’d even written down that Jeff was making a few special sandwiches for the newlyweds—in case they got hungry after celebrating in private.

She left the tent and walked to where Carrie and Brian would exchange their vows with the minister, Reverend Williams, the three of them standing in front of a large dogwood tree covered in pale creamy pink flowers. White bamboo chairs were already arranged in a semicircle, with a wide aisle down the center where Carrie would walk on the arm of her father to meet her future husband.

Looking at the scene made Tess’s stomach flutter with nerves. She wanted everything to go right for them. Not just today, but for all their days together.

Despite her nervousness, Tess was happy as well. The event she’d been planning for months was nearing its most beautiful and important moment, when Brian and Carrie would pledge their love and devotion to each other.

Whatever reservations she’d had back in February about planning a wedding had vanished. Tess realized how lucky she was to have been able to organize such an important and special ceremony for a couple she believed was truly in love and deeply committed to each other. Once it was over she’d have to thank Adele for twisting her arm so gently and masterfully.

There was, she admitted, another reason for her happiness. A clawing fear had been removed from her heart. It had lodged there since the morning of the breakfast meeting she’d had with Carrie and Brian and Phil, when Tess had heard Carrie list the Bradfords as invitees. Very important invitees.

From that moment Tess had waited with mounting
apprehension for when Phil would hand her the guest list with a final updated head count, and she would read Edward and Hope Bradford’s names in the “yes” column.

Of course, the possibility of the Bradfords attending hadn’t been her only or greatest fear. The thing she’d dreaded most was having to tell Ward of her connection to the Bradfords and why they might be less than pleased to see her (never mind how she felt about them).

There’d been a number of times when she’d summoned the courage to open her heart and share her painful past with him, only to fail. With each attempt, a messy mix of fear and embarrassment and self-loathing had rendered her mute. She’d been too unsure of Ward’s reaction or of her ability to explain coherently what she’d experienced during those weeks at Mass General. Would she be able to make him understand why she’d chosen to take the Bradfords’ money? Would he end up judging her as harshly as she so often judged herself?

The last instance had occurred the night before all the guests were supposed to RSVP. Half-convinced that the Bradfords would accept at the eleventh hour, she’d been on tenterhooks, unable to sleep.

Not wanting to disturb Ward, she’d slipped from the bed and silently crossed the darkened room to the window, where she’d stared out at the eerily beautiful nightscape and wondered whether the world she’d come to love would be threatened by a simple notecard accepting an invitation.

Lost in her pensive thoughts, she hadn’t registered Ward’s approach until his arms were about her waist. The strength of his body, the unmistakable concern in his voice as he’d gently probed and questioned to discover the reason behind her wakefulness, had been sweet and so wonderful, more than anything she’d ever experienced with David. Once again, she’d nearly recounted
the whole bizarre and unpalatable tale (and would doubtless have followed it up by weeping a torrent of tears, further proof of her sheer piteousness).

But this time it was Ward who stopped her. He’d kissed her and then whispered the words she found impossible to resist: “Let me love you, Tess.”

The following morning her unspoken wish had come true.

The specter she’d dreaded never materialized. The Bradfords didn’t even bother to RSVP to the wedding. Their absence had not only spared her the ugliness of a confrontation, it had also allowed her to avoid something even more distressing: explaining to Ward her connection to them.

It was an enormous reprieve. A part of her wasn’t sure she deserved one. Oh, intellectually she knew she’d done nothing wrong. She’d taken money from an unpleasant rich man and used it to help her severely disadvantaged brother. Some might praise her action.

She couldn’t, however. She could only remember the blistering shame she’d felt when she’d seen the contempt and dislike blazing in Mr. Bradford’s eyes, an emotion undimmed after the weeks she’d sat by David’s bedside, watching the husband she’d never truly known slip away.

It wasn’t that she had expected the Bradfords to love her or think she was a hybrid Florence Nightingale and Saint Agnes—Tess had written a report in eighth grade about Agnes of Bohemia’s dedication to the poor and sick—but she would have hoped she’d earned their respect and understanding. Yes, the love she’d felt for David when they first married was gone, but her decision to remain at the hospital had been an attempt to honor what she and he had once had, and to offer what support she could to his parents.

Instead of acceptance, they’d shown her their disdain. Poisonous and mean, it had invaded her system.

“Okay, judging from the look on your face you’ve realized that you forgot to tell Carrie and Brian that they needed a marriage certificate.”

Startled, Tess nearly bobbled her coffee. Righting her clipboard, she said, “That is really not funny, Reid. I had Brian mail the certificate two weeks ago, and your dad put it in the ranch’s safe for me. Your dad also put Brian and Carrie’s wedding rings in there. Carrie’s dress is hanging in the room where she’ll change, and Brian’s suit is pressed and hanging in his closet—”

Reid held up his hand. “Stop. You are scary sometimes, you know? Especially because you don’t look like an alien.”

“Ha. Your family’s paying me to be obsessive-compulsive about every aspect of this wedding.” She smiled, glad Reid had interrupted her bleak thoughts; she didn’t have time for them now. Besides, it was hard not to smile around Reid, especially if one was a woman.

This morning he was as killer handsome as always, dressed in faded jeans and a faded red button-down shirt, its sleeves rolled up to expose tanned, sinewed forearms. A number of single women—Carrie’s college friends—were attending the wedding, and they were already following Reid around in droves; Tess was surprised not to see any hovering in the background.

Before she could ask what he’d done with his female fan club, he spoke. “You still haven’t answered my question, which is all the more pertinent if you’ve got every ‘t’ crossed and ‘i’ dotted, and every petal counted in Carrie’s wedding bouquet. Why the tragic expression?”

She smiled that much more brightly. “I have no idea, since I’m feeling anything but tragic. I was just picturing how pretty this will look after Samantha attaches the
arrangements to the aisle chairs. Is Ward down at the barns?”

“Yeah, He’s inspecting the horses to make sure they’re as spiffy as everything else in this place.” He glanced at his watch. “About forty of the guests have signed up for a trail ride. Thankfully Erica’s not among them, so it should be an uneventful outing for Jim, Pete, Carlos, and Al.” They shared a grin.

“Erica does seem to be on her best behavior.” Tess could only assume that now that Ward had made his disinterest in any kind of reunion plain, she had moved on in her hunt for Mr. Right—another reason to smile a little more broadly on this fine morning.

“I’ve got some time before I escort a bunch of the guests to the Red Leaf vineyards. Ward sent me down to see if I could be of any help.”

Tess hoped that her expression wasn’t turning too misty. “No, thanks. Everything’s under control. Just do your best to keep the guests who are touring the vineyard—and I’m assuming most of them are the women who’ve been trailing after you with rapturous expressions—from getting sloshed.”

“Something tells me that you’ve already told Roo and Jeff to have gallons of coffee on hand to sober them up.”

She didn’t bother trying to deny it. “They can get drunk after the wedding, not before.”

He smiled fondly at her. “You know, I’m going to miss your special brand of crazy when I’m in South Carolina.”

Daniel and Adele had asked Reid to go help Lucy and Peter Whittaker with the riding operation at their inn. He was scheduled to leave the following week.

“Just make sure you’re back here for the cowgirls’ weekend,” she told him. “We can’t have that event without you.”

“Don’t worry. Quinn has issued some very graphic threats about what will happen to me if I don’t show. Though from the way you’re riding Brocco, Ward may have you doing a demo for the ladies.”

“Save the jokes for the wedding guests.”

It didn’t take long for Tess to wish that she could rollerblade across grass. But somehow, even though she seemed to be in constant motion, covering miles as she crisscrossed the grounds of the ranch, overseeing the setting and decorating of tables, making sure that the photographer snapped candid shots of the guests, and checking to see that no crises erupted in the kitchen, Ward nonetheless managed to catch her, stealing a moment with her as she carried a box of miniature ivory rosebuds to the cabin that had been transformed into a salon and boudoir for Carrie and her bridesmaids.

Ordinarily, Samantha would have brought the flowers to Carrie herself, but she was dealing with a mini crisis. At the last minute she’d decided the height of the flowers in the vases that would surround Brian and Carrie and the minister were too low. Blocks of florist foam were being cut to size and inserted into each vase. Then, of course, each arrangement would have to be tweaked to meet Samantha’s exacting standards. Not wanting Carrie to grow nervous waiting, Tess had volunteered to take the rosebuds herself.

The box containing the flowers was balanced on her clipboard—she’d dropped off her coffee cup in the kitchen long ago—when Ward snuck up behind her, slipping his arm around her.

“Gotcha. Mmm.” She felt his ribs expand as he inhaled deeply. “You smell wonderful.” He dropped a kiss on the column of her neck.

She shivered. “It’s the roses.”