The Bouquet List (6 page)

For a minute everything was fuzzy and then her mother’s face came into sharp focus.

But it wasn’t just her mother, it was her aunt Maria, her uncle Thassos, an old woman she’d never seen before, and a couple of kids as well. They all let out a simultaneous shriek.

“
Koukla
!”

“Mom! It’s so good to see you.” Yasmin laughed. “
Yiasou
Theia
, y
iasou
Theio
!”

There was more shrieking in Greek, and then everyone behind her mother waved.

“So it’s true,” her mother said, both hands at her cheeks. “You really are home, and your hair really is purple.”

“Yes, I’m home. How are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m going to Eressos to see Yiayia soon so I had to call early. Why are you home? Your father seems to have no idea. All he could say was that you had purple hair and you were wearing men’s boots.”

“Mom, I can’t talk right now. I have a meeting with Lane in a minute. Why don’t I call you back after you’ve seen Yiayia? Tomorrow morning your time.”

“Ah, Lane. He’s such a good boy. ”

“So, you’re okay about us working on some changes here?”

“
Koukla
, it’s not the renovations I care about, it’s the fact that your father won’t agree to having a proper life with me. He’s so tied up with vengeance for the O’Malleys and a need to prove himself that he has lost sight of our happiness. He can do whatever he likes with the Palace now. I have no interest in it. Your father thinks I’m coming home with him this week but I’m not going anywhere until he understands why I’m so upset.”

“Morning.”

Yasmin twisted to see Lane walk through the door. He wore dark pants and a checked shirt and tie, just as formal and together as ever. And just as always, her heart did a little leap when she saw him.

“Is that Lane? Oh, where is he? Can I speak to him?”

“Hey, Mrs. K.” Lane stepped into her mother’s line of vision, his face breaking into a broad smile.

“Oh, look how handsome you are in your business clothes, Lane! I was only saying to Maria this morning how lucky Yasmin is to have a man like Lane Griffiths looking out for her.”

“Yasmin’s the one who’s on top of things here, Mrs. K,” he said, throwing a smile at Yasmin. “She seems to know exactly what she wants.”

“I like her new hair, do you?”

“I’ll call you again tonight, Mom,” Yasmin said, desperate to get her mother off the call before she started asking Lane if he had a girlfriend.

“Okay,
koukla
. Big kisses.”

Yasmin tapped her mouse to close the window and turned back to look at Lane. It was only then that she noticed the person behind him.

“Yasmin, this is Paulo. He renovated my SoHo restaurant a while back and still owes me a couple of favors, so he’s going to work with us on the refurbishment.”

Paulo. Tall, dark, handsome. He was well-built and a little disheveled, his eyes hidden behind a pair of smart, dark glasses. He was definitely not a go-get-’em businessman like Lane; more hardworking tradesman with an air of his own sexiness.

“Hey, Yasmin.” Paulo took her hand and held it a second or two longer than was natural. He pushed the glasses onto his forehead and looked her directly in the eyes. “I bet this place has seen its fair share of romance, and with someone as beautiful as you in charge, how could it not?”

That was a line. Yes, that was definitely a pickup line. Yasmin’s gaze skidded to Lane as she felt the heat crawling up her neck.

“Well, it would see romance, wouldn’t it, being a wedding venue?” Lane said with a snort. He pulled out a chair for Yasmin, then sat next to her and indicated one on the other side of him for Paulo.

“This is a great old building,” Paulo said when they were all seated. “I performed here once at a wedding.” He had the tiniest hint of an accent.

“You’re a singer?” she asked. He was almost too beautiful, and although he kept eye contact with her the whole time, she found her gaze shifting back to Lane.

“No, a dancer. I teach salsa in my spare time, and the bride and groom had come for lessons.” He winked. “The bridesmaids were all keen on a demonstration after the first dance.”

Lane cleared his throat and was laying papers on the table in front of them.

“Oh, I love salsa! Do you teach in town? I’ve been thinking about dance lessons.” Three birds with one stone? Her list raced through her head:
learn a new language; tall, dark, and handsome; learn to dance.

Paulo reached into his pocket and took out a card. “Please give me a call and we can arrange something.”

She took the card and put it in her pocket.

“We’re going to be far too busy in the next few weeks for there to be any dancing…or any sort of fooling around.” Lane didn’t look at either of them, just pulled his chair in and spread the papers wider, a small frown on his forehead. “I’d appreciate it if I could have your attention. I’ve been thinking that one of the first things we should do is change the floor covering. I’ve used good marble…”

That comment about not fooling around was a direct result of her father asking Lane to look out for her, she was sure of it.

“Marble sounds good,” she said, leaning a little closer to the papers on the table trying to hide her irritation. “But wouldn’t that be really expensive?”

“I have some left over from one of my jobs, and because Paulo owes me labor, we could do it reasonably cheaply.”

“It sounds great. Very Mediterranean and a little opulent as well.” At least he wasn’t marching Paulo out of the place. “It would certainly step up the feel of the Palace, look a little more like some of the wedding venues in those brochures.”

“It would be great for dancing,” Paulo said and when she looked up he gave her a secret wink. He really was flirting with her, and part of her hoped that Lane had seen it.

“I was more concerned about it being easy to clean and functional than its suitability as a dance floor.” Lane pulled out a brochure full of wall coverings. “We may change the acoustic tiles, as it’ll be noisier with chairs being pushed in and out. These tiles would work.”

“I was thinking about that.” Yasmin leaned closer to the brochure and smelled freshly laundered shirt and male body beneath. Remembering his date tonight caused a sudden pang in her chest. He’d rejected her outright last night, there was no getting away from that, and she was going to have to imagine him with another woman, even if he did make it seem like they’d just be talking business.

“Or,” Paulo chipped in, “we could find artworks to hang, something with a modern Greek theme.”

“I have a few ideas,” she said.

“Go ahead,” Lane said.

“What if we changed the current tables and chairs to long tables and bench seats? It would make it more communal, more fun and funky, and could work equally as well on restaurant nights as wedding days,” she said.

“No,” Lane said. “Fun and funky isn’t your parents’ style and I, for one, wouldn’t want to be sitting next to a whole lot of people I didn’t know when I went out for dinner. If we have the marble floor we can go for glass-topped round tables. We could have them plain for the restaurant and use white cloths for weddings.”

Don’t I get a say in this?
She cleared her throat. “I, for one,” she said, mimicking his disapproving tone, “don’t like looking down at my thighs while I’m eating. Or anyone else’s for that matter.”

Paulo chuckled. “What about color schemes? These tans and greens need to go. What do you think, Yasmin?”

“I’d like something fresh, something that looks like the ocean. Not turquoise, but maybe more a teal.”

“Great choice,” Paulo said.

There was a pause for a moment, and then Lane turned to look at her. “We don’t want to overdo color. We could change up the texture of everything with brushed aluminum serving areas and detail on the walls. That will help with the acoustics, too.”

She bit her lip. She’d wait until Paulo left before she pointed out to him that she’d like to have some say in the direction they were going, but for now she just wanted one thing they could agree on. “The grapevines will have to go. I kinda like them, though. They make it feel as though we’re sitting outside under the stars. Hey, how cool would it be to have tiny lights shining through black cloth in the ceiling so it did look like stars? Then the grapevines wouldn’t look so out of place.”

Lane was flipping through documents on the table. “Not cool at all, and definitely no grapevines.”

He was the expert, but his conservative view of everything was driving her insane. “We do need to keep some of the Greek things.” She looked around her. “Those statues take up a lot of space. Hey, I know…”

She stopped as Lane gave her one of his looks that suggested whatever she was going to say next was going to be ridiculously loopy.

“What about we scrap the marble and go for a more relaxed feel. What about a polished concrete floor with mosaics laid into it? That would have the same sort of effect as marble, but it would make everything feel more relaxed. And it would work perfectly with…long wooden tables.”

“That would look good,” Paulo said. “You’ve got a talent for color and style, Yasmin.” His voice became smoother. “You must be an artist.”

“She’s an expert in fungus.” Lane had spoken without looking up.

“Oh…like athlete’s foot and things like that?” Paulo suddenly looked less interested in her.

“Dancers often get athlete’s foot, don’t you?” Lane asked. “You know the cracking and the stinging little cuts between your toes?”

“No, I don’t…”

“Seems like you’re the only one who’s experienced foot fungus, Lane.” She raised her eyebrows at him and witnessed his fleeting grin before he looked serious again. “I study mushrooms, Paulo.”

She’d never seen anyone look more relieved.

“So, Lane, what about the polished concrete floor?” she asked. “Is that going to clash with your vision?”

“I don’t mind that idea,” he said, “but it would have too much of an impact on the rest of the weddings this summer. We can’t afford to shut down the restaurant and have the dust and mess from grinding floors. We can’t change the dates for weddings, so we need a quick and easy solution that won’t cost much. What about plain wooden floors? They could be put down in a couple of days, and then we could use some carefully positioned rugs for extra texture.”

They all nodded in agreement and for the first time, Yasmin felt as though he wasn’t cutting her down straightaway.

“Okay,” Lane said. “If you can liaise with Grace about the best day to do it, we’ll get this carpet taken up and the floor laid in as quick a time frame as possible. I’ll also get Grace to explain the changes to the people who have booked weddings in the next couple of weeks to make sure they’re happy, considering it’ll be quite different from what they originally signed up for.”

“Oh, and one other thing,” Yasmin said. “I really hate those curtains. Is there a cheap but interesting option we can use for those?”

“I can source shutters that will give it a good Mediterranean feel, and we can add ceiling fans as well. You and I could go shopping together,” Paulo said. “I know a great place.”

“That would—”

“Yasmin will be too busy coordinating things here to go
shopping
,” Lane said over the top of her. “And curtains will be better than shutters. You know the sort of thing I like, Paulo. Just send some photos from the suppliers. I’ll call you about the floor tomorrow.”

Yasmin slowly turned back to Lane and shook her head. Despite the fact that she wasn’t really attracted to Paulo with all his winking and suggestion, it was clear that Lane didn’t understand that, and that he’d do whatever he could to keep them apart. He really was prepared to act like a big brother while her father wasn’t here. He was actually sitting there telling her who she would and wouldn’t associate with. She couldn’t wait until they were alone so she could explain to him exactly how she felt about
that
.

Chapter Five

When they’d finished their meeting and Paulo had left, Lane stood, struggling not to show how difficult it had been watching Paulo flirt with Yasmin. They needed to discuss new menu options with Leo in the kitchen, but Yasmin didn’t rise from her seat. He glanced at her and found her glaring at him, her face thunderous and eyes sparking.

“What was all that about?” she asked, folding her arms.

He rested a hand on the back of his chair. “The comment that you’d be too busy? The truth.” No point mentioning the fire of jealousy that had licked through his veins every time Paulo had smiled at her.

Her stare shot angry little darts into him. “You didn’t need to take that tone, as if Paulo had intentions other than treating me like the competent project manager that I’ll be. Do you think I see this as some sort of game?” Her chin jutted forward a little and her rosy lips crinkled as she pressed them together. For the briefest second he wondered how soft those lips would be against his own when he kissed her, how her body would feel pressed along the length of his while they made love.

He lifted his briefcase and shook off the image. “Look, I’m not an expert in male-female communication, but I’d suggest that with all the winking and smirking that was going on, Paulo wanted to stroke a little more than furnishing fabrics with you.” And the thought
still
made him bristle.

An indignant sound huffed from her mouth and for an awful moment he wondered if she’d seen through him.

He speared a hand through his hair and tried again. “I don’t think you’re treating this as a game, but we only have a short window to get things done and we don’t have time to waste. Now, are we going to talk to Leo in the kitchen?”

She didn’t move, just lifted her hand to the butterfly at her throat and stroked it. Why in all hell that singular movement kept getting him all steamed up, he didn’t know.

“Not until we have this sorted properly,” she said. “Not until we’ve established ground rules about how we’re going to work together.”

Ground rules? What is it with Yasmin and lists?
He opened his mouth to get the conversation back on track, but she stopped him by holding up a hand.

“Up until now I think I’ve been pretty open to your rigid approach to all this.” She stood and pushed her chair in.

Her bright orange top with sleeves like wings made her look as though she were a bird from the tropics about to take flight. It seemed a ridiculous thing to be wearing, but at the same time it suited her perfectly.

“Lane, I need your help to get the restaurant where we want it, but you can’t dictate whom I see and when. If you’re not interested in me I can accept that, but I won’t have you acting as some sort of corporate babysitter. Are we clear?”

His heart clenched tight in his chest. This was all about his rejection of her last night—she’d believed he couldn’t be interested in her, which was good, but seeing her so passionate and ready to stand up for herself made him even more sorry he’d had to turn her down.

Even if he couldn’t be with her, Paulo wouldn’t be the one to take his place. That man would never be right for someone as sweet as Yasmin. She deserved someone who saw all the honest possibilities in the world, a man who would put her every whim first and understand her need for fun and laughter.

“So,” he said pointedly, “you liked the way he was winking and smirking?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth then released it. “Not particularly, but that’s not the point.”

“It was sleazy, and if Paulo pulls anything like that again I’ll be telling him so and he’ll be off the project.” He started to walk toward the kitchen, and thankfully, this time she followed.

She’d always been so quiet before, so studious and polite. This new assertiveness, as well as the self-confidence when she’d propositioned him last night, was becoming a turn-on, and he needed to get away from all this temptation, get the work at the Palace finished, and get back to his real life and the things that really made him happy.

“What you do with your time,” he said over his shoulder, “won’t be an issue, because you won’t have any to spare. Neither of us will have time to socialize, or do anything outside the work we’re doing on the renovation.”

He pushed the swing door and held it open for her, but she stepped toward him, then stopped and put her hands on her hips, her chest thrust slightly forward. He became aware of a soft, floral scent surrounding her, and when she ran her tongue across her top lip he had to concentrate on what she was saying. “And will I get a say in any of the renovation?”

“Of course you will.” And of course she could go where and with whomever she wanted. But now, something made him want to keep her here with him for the next couple of weeks. And it was precisely that lack of focus that he wouldn’t succumb to. He couldn’t let anything distract him. Especially not Yasmin.

Suddenly, her phone made its echoing doorbell sound. “And do you think you could change that damn ringtone while we’re working together? I keep thinking there’s a door-to-door salesman in your bag.”

She was holding the phone in her hand and for once, she didn’t switch the sound off. “For your information, it isn’t a ringtone, it’s a mindfulness bell. A reminder to live in the moment, not to have regrets or to worry about the future. A reminder to appreciate what’s happening in the here and now.”

The way her cheeks flushed and her eyes shone caused him to hesitate on his response. A mindfulness bell to remind her to live in the moment? What a way to live a life.

What he wanted in this moment was to kiss her, lose himself in her, tangle his fingers in that ridiculous hair, and forget all about time.

But that would be wrong. People had to be sensible, have maturity in making decisions and look to the long term, to their goals, not merely live for the here and now.

“And another thing.” She pushed a strand of hair back over her shoulder. “I don’t want you to write off the idea of the long tables just yet,” she said, gesturing back toward the restaurant. “I’d like to have the chance to show you how it could look.”

He grinned; he couldn’t help it. She wasn’t backing down, and good for her. “Okay, going out with who you want I’ll agree to,” he said, hoping like all hell it never happened, “as long as it doesn’t interfere with what we’re doing here. The long tables? Never.”

She made a little noise in the back of her throat that wasn’t wildly different from the sound of pleasure he’d heard when she’d eaten that scone at the tearoom. Irritatingly, he was dying to hear it again.

“Hello, kids!” Leo was walking toward them and waving his hands in the air. He was like a smiling bear with a thick mop of hair standing up on his head. “Lane!
File mou
!” The slap to Lane’s back almost sent him flying into a tray of tomatoes.

Lane held out his hand, glad of the temporary distraction from Yasmin. “Thanks for giving us your time again, Leo.”

“No problem. I’m madly excited to change the menus. Pia liked to set them, and to be honest, they haven’t changed much at all since I’ve been here.” He gave a wide-eyed look. “My sister scares me more than my own wife. I’ve come up with a few things for you to try from the list of ideas you sent. Come through, come through!”

Lane looked back at Yasmin and her face had softened.

“We ate beautiful food last night, didn’t we, Lane?” she said as they walked into the kitchen together. “There was a great stuffed vegetable dish, Leo, sort of like
yemista
but with orzo and gorgeous sharp cheese. The little meatballs were really tasty in an avgolemono sauce, and the marinated octopus was amazing.”

Leo began removing his full-length apron. “Good, good, but I have to go out front.
Wedding World
want to take photos for the award I won at the artisan baker awards Saturday night. My special village bread was rated best in class! Can you imagine it! My old yiayia’s recipe winning an award. Young Grace thinks my publicity will be good for the Palace.” He waved an arm to indicate the array of dishes on the counter. “I’ve arranged a few things that I thought you might like to try.” He hung the apron on a hook by the sink. “I’ll be back in about half an hour and we can discuss which you think might work. From left to right we have a feta dip with dill, limes, and flatbread. Next to that is duck cakes with a yogurt dip, and in honor of our
koukla
Yasmin, there are
haloumi
and mushroom kebabs! Then a choice of main dishes: ground beef, mint, and pine nut pie; slow-roasted lemon and saffron chicken thighs; and pork with orzo, roast figs, and Asian greens. Finally, your dessert choices, caramelized sugar pudding with persimmon and mint, and chocolate and fig baklava.”

When Leo had left, Lane pulled up a stool for Yasmin and one for himself. “Feel like eating at the same table as me, or would you rather tip that sauce over my head?”

She narrowed her eyes at him but her mouth tilted in a grin. “Don’t tempt me. How much nicer it would be if we were eating at a long table, though…”

He chuckled. “Long tables can be the source of all sorts of diseases. Athlete’s foot for starters.”

She swiped at the air above his head and pulled the plates closer. “Yes, thanks for the way you explained my work to Paulo. If he had been interested in me that was sure to turn him right off.”

“Precisely,” he said, slanting her an unapologetic grin.

“Are you sure you’re happy to eat this today?” Her tone was teasing as she waved a hand across the plates in front of them. “I thought you might have another sandwich stowed in that briefcase.”

He laughed.
She gave as good as she got.
“I like to be prepared, though today I knew I’d be eating here, so no, Monday’s chicken salad on oat bran was canceled.”

She looked at him for a second, shook her head, then turned back toward the table. “My God, how good does this food look? I’m getting so excited about all this. Mom feels pretty passionate about the food we serve, but everyone has always been scared to question her choices. She loves you too much to ignore you telling her we need to change the menu.”

Lane’s gaze darted to hers and he swallowed. Did she know what a comment like that meant to him? Or that it reminded him he had to keep her at a distance?

Lane took a piece of warm flatbread and spread a little of the dip on it before passing it to her. “We need to confirm a relaunch date. It’s important that we don’t take too much time on the renovation. We don’t want your parents coming back to a mess, and we want to be able to build anticipation, so we’ll need to let all the media know when it’s going to be. Sooner rather than later.”

Yasmin took a bite of the pita and dip, and for the next minute there was silence as her eyes closed and she started chewing. His skin heated as he watched, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to be the one who put that expression on her face.

…

When she’d finished the bread, Yasmin took a bite of the ground beef pie, the fine, buttery phyllo pastry falling like snowflakes onto her chin and top. There was a creamy but tangy filling of ricotta cheese, pine nuts, and herbed ground beef and it all worked beautifully. Leo had outdone himself. She looked at Lane, so calm and together, and her heart squeezed as she remembered his rejection of her last night.

She smiled. “So, what sort of thing did you have in mind for the relaunch? I’m not sure that Mom and Dad will be back as soon as Dad had hoped.”

He rubbed his fingers across his mouth and paused before he spoke. “Hopefully, they’ll be here well before. Obviously it’ll be held in the restaurant. We’ll need to do a Sunday or Monday night when weddings aren’t booked and the restaurant is closed. We’ll have all the furnishings complete, the new tables and chairs, and we’ll serve a selection of the new menu. I need to talk to Grace, but we could also have new flower designers represented, a dramatic-looking cake or two, something that’s going to really make the media sit up and take notice of the huge changes here.”

“And a time frame?”

“Two weeks.”

Yasmin nearly blew a mouthful of phyllo over him. “But you said you had a month!”

“I did, but if we leave it too much later we’ll be getting toward the end of summer. We want to be able to maximize covers in the restaurant every night, and have the place looking great for all the potential new clientele who’ll be scoping out places for their summer weddings next year and beyond.”

“How are we going to get things done in that time with the restaurant still open until eleven p.m. most nights?”

He reached over and speared a green vegetable. “We’ll book the tradespeople to work early morning until midafternoon, then they’ll need to tidy everything away. And you and I will work nights after the dinner crowd have left to do the more straightforward jobs like painting and staging.”

She stuck her lip out and gave him a mock pout. “I’ll never survive those hours.” Her doctor’s insistence that she get plenty of rest echoed in her head.

“It’s only fourteen nights, and you’ll be able to sleep in the early part of the day as Grace will have everything under control. We’ll have the whole of next Monday as well.”

Yasmin picked up a fork and reached for a piece of chicken. Having Lane keep an eye on her shouldn’t be something to encourage now that he’d made his feelings for her clear. But she smiled secretly to herself. Who was she to stop him from doing his duty? That the eye-keeping would be happening during late evenings when no one else was around wasn’t something she was going to argue with, either. She could quite happily look at him 24-7.

And since he was in a fairly open mood, she wanted to understand him a little more. “Tell me, honestly, why are you so committed to doing all this? From what Grace was telling me, you’re pretty successful.”

He was looking directly in her eyes and her heart did its familiar pitter-pat. “Because your Dad asked me to. Here, do you want to try the yogurt sauce with that?”

She nodded and he spooned some of the creamy mixture onto her plate.

“I know, but taking time out from your own life—the days and now the nights—is pretty dedicated.”