Slightly Irregular (21 page)

“Shall we go in?” she asked.

We followed a smartly attired maître d’ to a small anteroom with a round table set for six. As my mother was assisted to her seat, David saw to Lisa. Liam pulled out my chair, but I waved off any further assistance.

“I hope you don’t mind …,” my mother began.

This was clearly rhetorical, since I was fairly sure she didn’t give a hoot if we minded.

“I’ve taken the liberty of designing a menu with Lisa in mind.”

I was sensing green beans in my future. I hate green beans.

A waiter arrived on our heels and asked, “Are we waiting on one more?”

“I thought we’d have a young lady joining us, but apparently Finley didn’t let me know otherwise, so, thank you, but you can clear that setting.”

“I believe Tony contacted you directly,” I said, practically shoving my glass at the third server, who was busy filling our water goblets and wineglasses.

“I was under the impression that he was attending.”

“He had a client emergency,” Liam said. “So I told him I would send along his apologies. So,” Liam lifted his wineglass, “apologies.”

“Fine then. Well, David, I know how busy you and Lisa are, and I really wanted you to have an opportunity to spend more than a few minutes with Finley. For sisters, they’re very different, as I’m sure Lisa has mentioned.”

“She hasn’t said,” David replied, and then looked across the table at me. “She just says the two of you don’t get to see each other enough.”

“We don’t,” I agreed. The last time I’d been to visit Lisa, David had been off at some medical seminar on tropical diseases. I wondered if it was too late to come down with a case of dengue fever.

“As you can tell, Finley has to work very hard at her job. I don’t even think she had an opportunity to change clothes after her long flight.”

Strike one.

“Sorry, Dave, but—”

“I prefer David.”

“Forgot, David. I did have to leave directly from work, so if I look less than appropriate, my apologies.”

“I think you look lovely,” he said. “What about you—Liam, is it?”

“Yes. Liam McGarrity. For the record, I did change before dinner,” he joked.

Four of the five of us laughed. My mother simply smiled tightly.

“No, I mean what do you do at Finley’s firm?”

“At Finley’s firm.” Liam paused and turned those ice-blue eyes on me. “I’m an independent contractor; a PI.”

David asked, “So you two work together?”

“Yes.”

“No,” I answered just as quickly. “I mean, sometimes we do. It depends on the case.”

As an amuse-bouche was presented to each of us, my mother asked, “So if you need an errand done, he does it?”

Strike two.

I savored the single bite of spicy ahi tuna. It was a nice contrast with the dry wine.

“A lot like that,” Liam said.

Still, he wasn’t rising to a single caustic Cassidy moment. For that he earned my admiration.

Dinner went about as well as could be expected. During the meal I was treated to David’s long, boring history of his life to date. Okay, so it wasn’t actually boring, but I was still trying to find some chink in his armor. I didn’t catch all of his comments, sometimes zoning out when Liam’s leg brushed mine or when his arm draped casually against the back of my chair.

Normally, I would have found the distraction annoying, but by the time the dinner plates were cleared, I was thrilled for the diversion. Well, that wasn’t completely true. I was also thrilled on another level. If I thought Liam was hot in his normal clothes, it was nothing compared to how I felt when he was in a suit.

My mother seemed placated playing matriarch, especially when the waiter asked if she and her “sisters” would like coffee with dessert. I thought she’d beam right out of her chair.

Of course he thought we were sisters. My mother was only fifty-one, but thanks to aestheticians and plastic surgeons, she could easily pass for forty.

“Well, hello,” came a proper, cheerful female voice from the doorway. I turned in my chair, while Liam and David got to their feet. A lovely couple stood in the entranceway. The man looked dapper, and the woman was a dead ringer for the American actress Dina Merrill in her heyday. I’d seen the actress
around Palm Beach in the 1970s and 1980s, and she always had a friendly and cultured air about her.

“I’m Tenley Huntington-St. John, and this is my husband, David. Though he goes by Tripp. Short for triple, as in ‘the third.’ David, bless his heart, didn’t end up with a nickname. I do hope we’re not intruding. I was just dying to meet Finley. And her gentleman friend, of course. I couldn’t wait for the dinner tomorrow night. Not to meet family, that is.”

My mother waved her hand. “We need seats for our friends, please.”

In no time the staff had cleared and redesigned the table for eight, making it look effortless. While they did that, the Huntington-St.Johns made a circle of the room, hugging and kissing their way through the lineup.

They seemed nice enough, and it was good to have a distraction. Tenley declined dessert, but among the rest of us, I think we ordered one of everything on the dessert cart. I was already on my second cup of coffee when Tenley turned her attention to me.

“So, Finley, your mother tells me you work at a law firm in Palm Beach?”

“Well,” my mother said quickly before I could respond, “I said she works in West Palm. She lives on Palm Beach.”

“How lovely for you,” Tenley said. “We’ve visited friends there, and it is a spectacular place.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Are you from Palm Beach as well, Mr. McGarrity?”

“Lake Worth area,” he said.

“Lake Worth is the waterway that separates Palm Beach from West Palm Beach,” my mother explained.

“Yes,” Liam agreed. “Only it isn’t a lake, it’s actually part of the Intracoastal. Just for the record, I live in the town of Lake Worth. On the mainland.”

“You should visit there,” I suggested. “They have a cute little Old Town that’s on the Historic Registry.”

Tripp steepled his fingers. “We may just do that, Finley. The wife and I do love history. Did you know the chapel David and Lisa are getting married in on Saturday is on the same land where every member of my family has been married since my family first came over with Mr. James Oglethorpe on
The Ann
. The chapel was built in 1750, and generations of Huntingtons and St. Johns are buried in the small plot adjacent to the chapel.

“Alley of Oaks, our ancestral home, was burned during the Battle of Atlanta. My forefathers tried to rebuild, but it was never the same. My great-granddaddy donated most of the land to the city. It’s now part of St. John Park off East Paces Ferry Road.”

“Now, Tripp,” Tenley said as she squeezed her husband’s arm. “Let’s not bore these fine people with rehashing the effects of the War of Northern Aggression.”

“It’s fascinating,” my mother insisted. I knew she was lying. She hated history, unless she was the central character. I didn’t care; it kept me out of the line of fire.

We finished dessert, and after some more polite conversation, the evening broke up a little before one.

As Liam and I walked back to the elevator, I said, “Sorry about my mother and her digs. However, on the positive side, she only got in a couple. Must be distracted by the wedding.”

“I’m a big boy,” Liam replied as he held the door open for me. Once inside he turned and braced a hand on either side of
my head, trapping me as the elevator slowly rose toward the top of the tower.

“So what happens now?” he asked.

“Now?” My voice was unnaturally high.

“Uh-huh.” Liam’s lips brushed against the sensitive skin just below my earlobe. The feel of his featherlight kisses drew my stomach into a knot. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the glorious sensations. His grip tightened as his tongue traced a path up to my ear. My breath caught when Liam teasingly nibbled the edge of my lobe.

His hands traveled up and rested against my side, just shy of my breasts. I swallowed the moan rumbling in my throat. I was aware of everything—his fingers, the feel of his solid body molded against mine, the magical kisses.

“You smell wonderful,” he said against my super-heated skin.

“Liam,” I whispered his name. It was the best I could muster over the lump of desire clogging my throat. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

His mouth stilled and his hand slipped to grip my waist. “Why?”

“Well,” I said as the elevator door slid open on our floor, “sex in an elevator isn’t one of my three wishes. Night.”

“I did it!” I crowed into the phone.

“It?”
Becky asked excitedly.

“Not that
it
,” I corrected. “I did what you told me to do. I revved Liam up and calmly walked away.”

“How’d he,” she yawned. “How’d he take it?”

“Better than me, I hope. Oh my God, Bec. He had on a suit and looked positively luscious. I could have jumped him right there in the hallway.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“He’s in the next room.”

“You have adjoining rooms?”

“Long story. Tony isn’t coming.”

“I know, I saw him at the office, and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of him on the evening news for a while. Not that I’ll be seeing it. I’m still knee deep sorting out Ellen’s cases.”

“Don’t you have some vacation time coming?” I joked.

“Dane would have a fit. There’s stuff Ellen was doing that I didn’t even have a clue about.”

“Do you need time? I can put the woman off on Sunday?”

“God, no,” Becky said. “I need to get away from the office for some downtime. Taking Sunday afternoon off isn’t going to change the world.”

“Hang on.”
Who was beeping in on my phone at one thirty in the morning?
“Izzy is on the other line. Can I call you back?”

“No. I’d like to sleep. Call me tomorrow, and keep up the good work with Liam. Make him want and make him wait.”

Great advice, if only I could apply it to myself as well. I clicked the Answer button on my phone. “Izzy, what are you doing up this late?”

“Wishing my dad wasn’t such a total jerk.”

“He’s just doing his job.”

“I know, but I’m supposed to be his job, too. Instead, I get a quickie trip to Universal.”

“Islands of Adventure can be really fun,” I insisted. “The Harry Potter thing is awesome.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Right, but if you play your cards right, you can work this to your advantage.”

“How?” she grumbled.

“You act all grateful for the Universal trip, just keep telling him how happy you are to get just one day with him. Hammer that home, then when the time is right, you hit him up for something you really want while reminding him how nice you were about missing the whole Atlanta trip.”

“That’s excellent. How’d you learn all this stuff?”

“I was raised by a master manipulator.”

“Is Liam there with you?”

“Not with me, but he’s here.”

“Ewww, I didn’t mean, like,
with
you. That would be gross.”

Not so much. “I know. I just meant he wasn’t in this room. Are you ready for the dance next week?”

“Except for knowing how to do hair and makeup and stuff.”

“I said I’d help you.”

“What if something comes up?”

“My life’s not that interesting,” I said honestly. “I’ve got it marked on my calendar. I’ll be at your place by six. You’ll be ready no later than seven. The dance starts at seven thirty, and—”

“Dad’s coming.”

The line went dead. I listened to the nothingness for a while, then started scrolling through the messages I’d neglected by accidentally leaving my phone off. Liv and Jane were begging
for updates, and there was a text from Izzy that pretty much summed up our conversation except in her text she said Tony sucked as a dad.

I couldn’t imagine a steady diet of all that teen drama, but it felt pretty good to swoop in as the voice of reason and then exit gracefully.

The next day zipped
by, thanks to a bridesmaid's luncheon and a few more stolen moments with my sister. The rehearsal was pretty straightforward. Walk in, stand here, move there, and walk there. Done.