Pamela glanced around the crowded café. Apparently satisfied that no one could overhear, she leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “So what really did happen between you and Rafe Madison?”
“Nothing. I told you, we just talked. That’s all.”
Pamela’s eyes clouded with disappointment. “That’s all? Honest truth?”
Hannah briefly considered the insignificant good-night kiss Rafe had given her. “Pretty much.”
Pamela flopped back in her chair. “Too bad.”
“Think so?”
“Sure. Intelligent, educated, clearheaded women like us know better than to marry guys like Rafe Madison. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun to fool around with one.”
“A little hard on the reputation, especially in a town like Eclipse Bay. Trust me, I know this now. After those infamous two hours on the beach with Rafe Madison, my image as a nice girl has plummeted to somewhere in the vicinity of zero.”
“The least you could have done for yourself was have a good time on the way down.”
Rafe phoned the day he left town. Hannah was alone in the house at the time. When she heard his voice on the other end of the line she had a feeling he knew that her parents had driven into Eclipse Bay together.
“I owe you,” he said without preamble.
“No, you do not owe me.” She clutched the instrument very tightly. His voice was as sexy on the phone as it was at midnight on a shadowed beach. “I just told the truth, that’s all.”
“Is everything that simple for you, Miss Voted Most Likely to Succeed? Black and white? True or false?”
“In this case it is, yes.”
“You don’t care that everyone in town thinks I did a lot more than hold your hand that night?”
She sought refuge in irrefutable fact. “You didn’t even hold my hand.”
There was a short beat of silence on the other end of the line. She wondered if he was thinking about that meaningless little kiss he had given her just before he sent her into the house. It was certainly on her mind.
“Whatever,” he said eventually. “But I still owe you.”
“Forget it. No big deal. Besides, to be honest, I owe you.”
“How’s that?”
“I am no longer known around town as Miss Boring Goody Two-Shoes.”
There was another beat of silence. “You’re definitely not boring.”
She was not sure what to say to that. She wrapped the cord around her hand and kept her mouth shut. It was an exercise in self-discipline.
“Hannah?”
“Yes?”
“I meant what I said last night. Good luck with that five-year plan of yours. I hope things work out the way you want. Hope you do okay with your own business.” He paused. “Hope you find a guy who meets all those requirements on that list, too.”
He sounded sincere, she thought.
“Rafe?”
“Yeah?”
“I meant what I said to you that night, too. Get a life.”
Chapter 1
Portland, Oregon
The present…
The long, pearl-studded train of the creamy candlelight-satin wedding gown cascaded in graceful folds behind the bride as she glided to a halt in front of the altar. She smiled demurely at the groom through a gossamer cloud of veil. The organ music trailed off. A respectful hush fell. The minister cleared his throat.
“Well, that’s it for me,” Hannah murmured to her assistant as they retreated to the portico in front of the church. “I’m out of here. You can handle the receiving line. The limo is ready. Keep an eye on the four-year-old nephew. He’ll probably make another grab for the bride’s train when she walks back down the aisle. See you at the reception.”
“It’s so perfect.” Carla Groves seized a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. She peeked back into the church. “The flowers, the candles. Everything. The bride looks as if she just stepped out of a fantasy.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, Carla, but you aren’t going to last long in this business if you weep every time you send a bride up the aisle.”
“But she’s so beautiful. Practically glowing.”
“Uh-huh.” Hannah snapped the lock on her briefcase. “Looks even better this time than she did the last time. Probably because her budget was much larger. She did very well in the divorce settlement, you know. Had a great lawyer.”
Carla rolled her eyes. “You’re such a cynic, Hannah.”
“No, I’m not. I agree with you. Jennifer Ballinger does make a lovely bride. And a very profitable one for Weddings by Harte. This is her second marriage with us, and I have every expectation that in a couple of years she’ll come back to this firm for her third. Nothing like a repeat customer, I always say.”
At five-thirty that evening, Hannah stepped out of the elevator into a corridor decorated in shades of tasteful beige and walked down the hall toward the door of her apartment. Her footsteps were hushed by the thick, pale carpeting, but the door of the suite next to hers opened before she reached it.
Winston rushed out to greet her with as much enthusiasm as a properly bred Schnauzer considered appropriate to exhibit upon such occasions. As always, the sight of the small, elegant, salt-and-pepper dog hurrying toward her lowered Hannah’s stress level by several degrees.
She smiled as she crouched to scratch Winston behind the ears. He gave a discreetly muffled whine, quivered with pleasure, and licked her hand.
“Hello, pal. Sorry I’m late. Been a long day.”
Winston looked up at her through a fringe of long, silvery lashes, understanding in his intelligent eyes.
Mrs. Blankenship struck her head around the edge of the door. “Oh, there you are, dear. Winston was starting to get a trifle anxious. How did the wedding go?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. The usual number of snafus at the reception. The caterer turned up with a cheese tart instead of the asparagus canapés that the bride had selected. The photographer helped himself to a couple of glasses of champagne and started to flirt with the bartender. The flower girl came very close to getting into a food fight with the four-year-old nephew.”
“Just the usual, then.” Mrs. Blankenship nodded wisely. She always loved to hear about the weddings. “But I’m sure you nipped all the potential disasters in the bud behind the scenes.”
“That’s what I get paid to do.” Hannah leaned down to pat Winston, who bounced around her high heels. “I think the bride was satisfied. As far as she was concerned, everything went off as if the whole thing had been staged by a computer.”