“Not when we have ten weeks to put together a formal interfaith wedding for more than eighty guests.”
“That’s really cutting it real close.”
“Tell me about it. I haven’t met the bride, so right now I have no idea what she wants.”
“Who were you meeting with last night?”
“Her brother.”
“Where’s the bride?”
“She’s on jury duty.” Tessa told Simone that Bridget had canceled two meetings and went over what she’d discussed with Micah. However, she didn’t reveal that Micah had spent the night or that they’d shared the same bed without making love.
“The girl sounds ditzy. The fact that she’s canceled twice could be a cry for help that she really doesn’t want to get married.”
Tessa rolled her eyes upward. Simone had enrolled in college with the intent of becoming a psychologist but changed her major from psychology to a liberal arts degree program. She never became a psychologist, and when her marriage ended she channeled her pain and frustration into flower arranging. The result was wannabe psychologist Simone Whitfield had become a much-sought-after floral designer and the official florist for Signature Bridals.
“Don’t go Dr. Phil on me, Simone. She just got engaged six weeks ago.”
“Now that proves she’s certifiably ditzy. Formal weddings usually take more planning than a few months. When’s her big day?”
“New Year’s Eve.”
“And I suppose she wants you to book a room at the Waldorf-Astoria or Tavern on the Green?”
“Thankfully, no,” Tessa drawled cynically. “She’s getting married at her parents’ house in Franklin Lakes, New Jersey.”
A soft whistle came through the earpiece. “Nice neighborhood. A lot of homes in that community start at a million and go as high as eight to ten.”
Tessa thought about Micah saying money’s not an issue, which meant the Sanborns were willing to pay for whatever Bridget wanted. “Well, I’ll find out how much her folks are willing to spend when I meet them tomorrow.”
“How old is baby girl?”
Tessa laughed. Simone always referred to spoiled, pampered brides as baby girl. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask her brother.”
“Then how old is baby boy?”
“I don’t know,” Tessa said. She didn’t want to tell Simone that if Micah had put in twenty years with the NYPD, then he had to be at least in his early forties. “I’ll let you know what I come up with when I see you and Faith Monday night.”
“Faith called me early this morning from Vegas—”
“Don’t tell me she’s not coming,” Tessa moaned, interrupting Simone. Of the three, it was Faith Whitfield who’d become the most elusive. Faith had missed their last two bimonthly Monday-night dinner meetings. At any given time she could be asked to create a cake for a surprise birthday celebration or for a high-profile celebrity’s impromptu gala.
“She’s coming, but she’s flying into Westchester instead of LaGuardia. I’ll pick her up, and she can ride back to Manhattan with you.”
“If she calls you again, please tell her that we’re going to need a wedding cake for New Year’s Eve.”
Tessa talked to Simone for another quarter of an hour before ending the call. As soon as she hung up, her phone rang again. Micah’s name came up in the display.
She smiled and said, “Good morning, Micah.”
“Is it really a good morning?” came his velvet baritone query.
“Yes. I have electricity. How was your drive home?”
“Quick. It took about ten minutes door to door.”
“You were speeding,” she said accusatorily.
He chuckled softly. “Guilty as charged. I called to let you know I’ll pick you up around ten. If that’s too early, then I’ll let my mother know we’ll come for an early dinner.”
“Ten is fine.”
“Dress casually and wear comfortable shoes.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see when you get there,” Micah said cryptically.
“I don’t like surprises, Micah.”
“This one I’m certain you’ll like….” His voice trailed off. “I’m going to have to take this call, Tessa. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Tessa held the receiver to her ear until she heard a programmed voice telling her to either hang up or try her call again. She hung up, wondering what it was Micah wanted her to see.
She couldn’t begin to think of the possibilities, so she decided to concentrate on the laundry list of things she had to do: glue crystal beads and faux pearls to the bodice of a sample gown she’d designed in her spare time, put up several loads of laundry and go through her closets to take out winter clothes and put away her summer wardrobe. The leaves on the trees lining the streets had begun changing color, a blatant indicator that the summer was over.
Tessa walked down the steps at ten on Sunday morning, cradling a large envelope in one hand, at the same time Micah drove up in a low-slung, two-seater BMW convertible Roadster in a subtle charcoal gray. A hint of a smile softened her mouth. He’d just gotten another gold star: he was on time.
He waved to her as he got out of the car. A pair of jeans, an off-white cable-knit pullover sweater and running shoes had replaced his tailored suit and imported footwear. Her smile widened when she noticed the well-worn New York Yankees cap on his head. Her smile faded as quickly as it’d come. Micah hadn’t shaved, and the stubble on his jaw enhanced his overt maleness.
Recovering quickly and holding her arms out at the sides, she spun around. “Is this causal enough for you?”
What Micah hadn’t been able to see in the dark was now blatantly on display for his viewing pleasure. His midnight gaze moved slowly over the curly hair Tessa had brushed off her face and secured in a twist on the nape of her neck, down to her face with a subtle application of makeup that highlighted her gold-flecked eyes, high cheekbones with a light sprinkle of freckles and a lush mouth outlined in a soft rose-pink shade. A single strand of pearls matched the studs in her pierced ears.
He stared at her lush, compact body in an apricot-pink cashmere tank top with a matching cardigan, brown body-hugging stretch slacks and matching suede slip-ons. Even her brown pony-and-calfskin leather shoulder bag complemented her elegant sense of style. The epitome of casual-chic, she looked as if she’d stepped off the pages of Town and Country.
What she wore wasn’t casual enough for what he’d planned for them, but he couldn’t tell her that. “You look beautiful.”
Caught off guard by the vibrancy of Micah’s voice, the tenderness in his eyes, Tessa was helpless to stop a rush of heat darkening her face. She lowered her gaze in a demure gesture. “Thank you.”
Micah winked at her. “Don’t thank me, Tessa. I had nothing to do with the way you look.” Cupping her elbow, he helped her into the car, closed the door and got in beside her. Pressing a button, he raised the convertible top, shifted into gear and maneuvered through the quiet Brooklyn neighborhood as the soothing sounds of jazz filled the racy sports car.
He took a quick glance at Tessa as she pressed her head to the leather headrest and closed her eyes. “Do you want me to put on a different CD?”
Tessa recognized the melodious horn of Wynton Marsalis playing a bluesy piece perfect for a nightclub setting. “No, please don’t. It’s nice.” The music