Belatedly he looked at the check she had shoved into his hand. A twenty-thousand-dollar refund of the deposit he’d given her when he and Emma had first begun planning their wedding.
That was generous of her. As it was, he’d lost the thousands he’d paid for the honeymoon he wouldn’t be taking. Not to mention the cost of the expensive diamond Emma had returned to him—a ring that he was sure the jeweler wouldn’t take back, or if he did, would give Reed only a fraction of what he’d paid for it.
He hoped Felicity wasn’t out any money because of the canceled wedding. Surely she would have deducted any expenses she’d incurred before making out the check. He made a mental note to ask her about that.
Reaching his office, he walked inside and smiled at his brother Daniel’s daughter, Colleen, who promptly handed him three pink telephone slips.
“Julianne Foster, Dr. Finnerty and Gram called,” Colleen said. “Gram just wanted to know if you’re coming to dinner tonight.”
“Thanks, honey.” Reed looked at his watch. It was after one. “Shouldn’t you be heading home by now?” Colleen was working half days for him this summer.
“I just wanted to finish up the newsletter,” she said as Reed headed into his office. “Then I’ll be off.”
Reed sent a monthly newsletter to his clients, who numbered in the hundreds—some living as far away as Texas, for Reed’s thoroughbred horses were renowned and commanded top prices. Rosedale Farms was a full-service facility providing the highest-quality care and environment for all boarding, foaling and bloodstock management needs. It sat on six hundred acres of rolling hills and pastures in a gorgeous setting that was the envy of many other horse breeders. Reed was justifiably proud of the farm named after his paternal grandmother, Rose Moran Kelly, who, along with her husband, Aloysius, had owned and run a successful horse-breeding farm in their native Ireland, and he hoped to pass it down to his children.
Children. At the rate he was going, he’d never have any. Too bad he couldn’t just arrange a marriage the way they had in the old country. Make it a strictly business proposition and pick a wife who wanted children the way he did. Of course, he wouldn’t want just anyone. She’d have to be smart, attractive and agreeable. Unwanted came the thought Someone like Felicity.
He grimaced. Oh, sure. As if Felicity would be interested. She’d made her feelings about marriage known to anyone who would listen. She’d been burned once and had no intention of being burned again. He and Emma had often talked about Felicity’s attitude, because Emma really cared about her best friend and wanted her to be happy.
“She told me,” Emma had said, “that from now on she’s devoting herself to her career and only her career. When I tried to tell her she could have both a successful career and a successful marriage—all it would take is the right man—she said she was happy for me if I felt that way, but marriage was not for her.”
Remembering that conversation, Reed told himself to put Felicity out of his mind. She was not a candidate to be Mrs. Reed Kelly.
Determinedly clearing his thoughts of everything but work, he sat down at his desk and picked up his phone to return the calls.
Felicity couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened between her and Reed. Dear heaven, what had she been thinking? Why had she permitted that kiss? And permitting it, why had she responded like a bitch in heat?
You know why. You’ve been lusting after Reed for a long time….
And now he knew it. Or if he didn’t exactly know it, he sure as hell suspected it.
Damn.
Her face burned just thinking about her wanton, out-of-control behavior. She couldn’t imagine what Reed was thinking. How could she ever face him again?
And Max. Why, she’d nearly run him down when she’d rushed out of the stables that way. She could just imagine what he’d been thinking. She’d muttered an apology and some nonsense about being late for an appointment and avoided his eyes. Oh, God…
She was still mentally berating herself when she got back to her office. Trying to regroup and forget what had happened out at Rosedale Farms—so Reed had kissed her, so what?—she entered her office.
Rita Dixon, her diminutive assistant, looked up from her desk. Her brown eyes sparkled with the boundless energy that made her such a valuable employee. “So how’d it go? Did he agree?”
Felicity froze. Oh, my God. She had completely forgotten her main reason for going out to Rosedale. Sure, she’d intended to return Reed’s deposit, but her most important goal was to get him to agree to allow Portia Newhouse’s wedding photos to be taken there.
And she’d forgotten to ask him! Thinking fast, she said, “He’s going to get back to me.”
“Oh, fudge,” Rita said. “I was sure you could persuade him. Should I call Bo? He’ll be disappointed, but maybe he’ll have another idea that Madame Newhouse will go for.” Bo Harrison was the photographer Felicity always used unless her clients specified someone else.
“Don’t call him yet. I mean, Reed didn’t say no.”
Rita shrugged. “Okay. I guess if anyone can get a yes out of him, it’s you.”
Felicity told herself she hadn’t really lied to Rita in implying that Reed was thinking about allowing the use of Rosedale for the photos. Her mind whirled as she escaped into the relative privacy of the War Room—so named because it was used to plan the strategy for their large events.
Now what? she thought, trying not to panic.
But she knew the answer.
She would have to get over her embarrassment, pick up the phone and call Reed.
Now.
Two
Reed had the phone in his hand. He’d just finished talking with Jack Finnerty, who wanted to buy a broodmare, and was about to call his mother to say that, yes, he’d be there for dinner tonight, when the phone rang.
Glancing at the caller ID, he saw Weddings By Felicity. He hesitated only a moment before pressing the talk button.
“Reed Kelly.”
“Reed? This is Felicity.”
“Hey. I’m glad you called. Beat me to the punch. I’d planned to call you later to thank you for returning my deposit.” Would she say anything about what had happened between them earlier?
“You’re welcome.”
“You gave me too much, though. You must have had some expenses connected with our canceled wedding.”
“My expenses were negligible. You don’t owe me anything. However, I do need a favor.” Her voice was crisp and businesslike.
He finally realized she wasn’t going to mention the episode in the stables. Good. That made things easier. They could both pretend it hadn’t happened.
“What do you need?” he said, equally businesslike.
“I’m handling Portia Newhouse’s wedding, and she and her mother have set their heart on having her photos taken at Rosedale Farms. Would you consider that? They’re willing to pay whatever you would want to charge.”
Normally, Reed would have refused this kind of request. But he did owe Felicity, and there was something to be said for creating goodwill with the Newhouses.
“What are we talking about?” he asked. “I don’t want tons of people tramping about, and absolutely