Eight months later
The front doorbell chimed, announcing a new arrival at the offices of The Talk of the Town, a party planning service owned and operated by Cassie Andrews.
Cassie glanced at her wristwatch and frowned. Her one o’clock appointment was early. She heard voices coming from the front office. Her receptionist/secretary/all-around girl Friday’s voice she recognized. The other, a deep baritone, sounded vaguely familiar.
Definitely not her one o’clock appointment, she decided. Naomi Jacobs, her scheduled client, wished to discuss plans for her niece’s bridal shower. This visitor was undoubtedly all male.
“Cassie?” Her receptionist, dark-haired and petite, with pixielike features, stood in the doorway of her office, looking anxious.
“Yes, Mitsi?”
“There’s someone outside insisting on seeing you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says you know him. Dr. Lawton? A Dr. Greg Lawton?”
Cassie’s breath caught. Greg Lawton? He was the last person she’d ever expected to darken her door. She remembered their last encounter, the time she’d called him to tell him about Niki and Jack Sinclair’s elopement. She hadn’t seen Greg since he’d had the nerve to hang up on her.
“Cassie?”
Cassie blinked, glancing up at her friend. “Hmm?”
“What do you want me to do with Dr. Lawton?”
A number of vile things came to mind. All of which Cassie quickly squelched. Contrary to what Greg Lawton believed, she wasn’t a vindictive woman. She wasn’t one to hold grudges.
“Give me a moment. Then send him in.”
Mitsi left and Cassie scrambled to clear her desk. Not that she cared what Greg thought of her office, she told herself, as she shoved a handful of papers into her desk drawer. His opinion didn’t matter to her one way or another.
In the past eight months since she and Greg had gratefully parted ways, she’d concentrated her time and effort on starting her own business. Thanks to a lot of hard work and diligence, The Talk of the Town was a growing success, which didn’t leave her a lot of time to organize her desk.
Most times, the clutter didn’t bother her or her clients. Her customers hired her for her creativity, not her neatness. But today, with someone as intimidating as Greg Lawton looming outside her door, she wanted to put her best foot forward.
Her elbow caught the edge of the desk blotter, sending the stapler bouncing off her desk. Cassie scooted her chair back and bent to retrieve the recalcitrant object. She stopped midstretch as she came nose to toe with a pair of shiny black loafers.
A prickling of awareness skittered up her spine. Slowly she lifted her gaze, catching a glimpse of long, muscular legs, clad in a pair of perfectly creased, charcoal gray slacks. She took in the trim waist, the flat stomach and the broad shoulders and felt her mouth go dry. His pale blue, buttoned-down shirt brought out the highlights of his baby blue eyes. The office’s fluorescent light glinted off his thick sandy hair. And his lips were pressed into a firm line of disapproval.
Heartbreak had been kind to Greg Lawton, she decided grudgingly. Hard as it was to believe, he’d grown even more handsome over the past few months. Once she’d likened him to a modern day Dr. Kildare; so cool, so collected—so perfect—that whenever she saw him she wanted to run up to him and muss up his hair.
Perfection was just one of Greg’s many faults. His condescending attitude was another. Whenever he was near, Cassie felt as though she should apologize for all her shortcomings—whatever they may be. He had an uncanny knack for making her feel lacking in some way.
“Greg,” she said, rising to greet him. “This is a surprise.”
“I’m sure it is,” he returned evenly. His mouth tightened around a polite smile. “Do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
The words held a familiar ring, striking Cassie with an unexpected feeling of déjà vu. They’d had this conversation before. Only, the last time, she’d been the one asking for a moment of his time. A request that had been met with rudeness.
Giving the good doctor a taste of his own bitter medicine, she glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ve got an appointment in fifteen minutes. Make it quick.”
His smile faded. “That’s what I like about you, Cassie. Your directness.”
She raised her chin. “Funny, I didn’t think there was anything you liked about me.”
“You’re right.”
Cassie put a loose rein on her growing anger. “Obviously this isn’t a social call. So why don’t you cut the chitchat and get to the point of your visit?”
A scowl creased his perfect brow. He shifted uncomfortably, one foot to the other. “The reason I’m here…” He stopped, swearing softly beneath his breath.
Cassie eyed him warily. For the first time in all the years she’d known him, Greg actually looked nervous. The thought brought a smile to her lips.
“Yes, Greg?” she prompted.
At her amused tone, his gaze hardened. Without further delay he said, “The reason I’m here is to ask a favor. I need your help, dammit.”
Greg watched with growing irritation as slowly, ever so slowly, an amused expression stole across Cassie’s face. Amusement at his expense, he realized. It took all his willpower not to turn around and walk out of her office.
“I don’t think I quite understood,” she said, her smile sweet and sassy. “Would you mind repeating that, please?”
Greg scowled. “You heard me. I need your help.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Her smile deepened. “I just wanted to be certain. Because asking for my help is the last thing I’d ever expect to hear coming from your lips.”
Her impudent tone proved to be the last straw. “Obviously this was a mistake.” Salvaging what little pride he had left, Greg turned to leave.
She reached a staying hand. Her palm felt smooth, warm against his forearm. The contact sent an electrical current of awareness traveling up his arm, shocking him.
“Don’t go,” she said, seeming oblivious to his reaction. “You have no idea how much I want to hear the rest of what you have to say.”
He searched her face for the truth and, unfortunately, found nothing but sincerity hidden in the depths of her dark blue eyes. She was loving every moment of his discomfort. He shifted his stance, forcing her to drop her hand.
Cassie motioned to a nearby chair. “Have a seat.”
Reluctantly he sat down in the proffered chair, unable to stop himself from watching as Cassie took her own seat. With a fluid, catlike grace, she crossed her legs and smoothed a hand against the pleats of her white skirt. Greg gave himself a firm mental shake. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been without a woman in his life too long if Cassie Andrews could cause his libido to trip out of control.
She raised a golden brow. “Exactly what kind of help do you need, Greg?”
“A party,” he said, wincing as his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I’ve been given the job of hosting the clinic’s annual office party in three weeks.”
She smiled at him. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
Her placating tone grated against his nerves. “Look, do you think you can handle