Enright Family Collection (78 page)

“Well, of course. My boy and your girl deserve perfect.” Delia patted August’s arm gently. “Have you seen the cake, Zoey? Mrs. Colson totally outdid herself this time. Ivory buttercream frosting, with palest pink frosting roses and candied violets. To die for. If she isn’t careful, Mrs. Colson may get roped into making the wedding cake.”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled. Nicky was always her favorite,” Zoey remarked.

“Zoey, I saw your little cooking show last week.” August’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Oh, I’m sure that a world-class cook such as yourself must have been appalled.” Zoey cringed.

“On the contrary. I thought it was fun to watch.”

“Fun?” Zoey sighed. “You thought it was fun?”

“Absolutely. Everyone makes the same mistakes as
you did, dear. Everyone has to learn the same things you are learning. It’s refreshing, really, to watch you, you are so natural. However, if I might mention one thing . . .”

“Anything.” Zoey looped her arm through August’s and leaned closer. “When it comes to the kitchen, August, you are The Man in my book.”

“Well, dear, I just thought that the chicken recipe you made on air the other day was a bit complicated for a”—she sought a suitable word—“a novice such as yourself. If I might recommend one. . . .”

“Recommend away.”

“Perhaps I’ll fax something to you. India’s new computer has a fax capability, and I find that fascinating. I’m tempted to invest in my own.”

“Before you leave this weekend, I’ll write the fax number down,” Zoey assured her. “We have been soliciting recipes and helpful tips from our viewers—the response has been overwhelming—but I suspect that some of them may not be much more skilled than I am. It would be wonderful to have your recipes, August. I would be grateful for any help you would be willing to give me.”

“Well, then, I’ll be sure to send a few off to you this week.”

“Oh, sweetie, excuse us. There’s Angela Weston. I wanted August to meet her, they have so much in common.” Delia pecked Zoey fondly on the cheek, then dragged August off to the next room.

“Delia is so fun,” Corri piped up. “I read a book one time and it said that a lady
swooped.”
She emphasized the word. “Delia
swoops,”
she told Zoey, who laughed and gave Corri’s little shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Corri, you are absolutely right. My mother does indeed
swoop.”

“Delia is nice. She gave India a pretty little necklace to wear at the wedding. It has pearls and a silvery blue stone like the ring that Nick gave to India.”

“I’ll have to see it. It sounds lovely.” Zoey smiled at Corri and bent down to give her one extra little hug for
good measure. “I missed you, child. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too. I got to ride the ponies this afternoon.” Corri leaned over and whispered this last into Zoey’s right ear, touching the small white flowers with her index finger as she did so. “Nicky let me. Aunt August didn’t want me to because she didn’t want me to smell like a horse for the party, but Delia said I could take a bath. And I did.” She held her arm up to Zoey and said earnestly, “See? I don’t smell like ponies at all.”

“Why, you’re right. You don’t smell at all like a pony. You smell like”—Zoey sniffed at Corri just as the child wanted her to—“like . . .” She sniffed again, unable to place the fragrance. “What
do
you smell like?”

“Bubble gum.” She announced solemnly. “It was in the bubble bath.”

“I see.” Zoey straightened up, suppressing a grin. “Oh, so much better to smell like bubble gum than ponies.”

Corri nodded. “Especially if you are going to a fancy party.”

“And this is a fancy party, I would say.” Zoey laughed—bubble gum, the fragrance du jour—as she took Corri’s hand. “Now, you wouldn’t happen to know where Nick and India might be, would you?”

“They were in the big sun room.” Corri grabbed Zoey’s hand and tugged on it. “I’ll show you. It’s this way.”

Corri led her through the crowd, having forgotten—as excited six-year-olds might tend to do—that Zoey, being Delia’s daughter, had grown up in the house and knew exactly where the solarium was located.

“India!”

“Zoey! I’ve been watching the door for the past hour. Delia said you had to work today and that you’d be a little late.” India excused herself from the small circle of guests to greet Zoey with an eager hug. “Oh, wow! Don’t you look gorgeous! Oh, my, what a dress . . .” India whistled, her violet eyes widening as Zoey turned around to give her future sister-in-law a back view of the dress.

“You look quite the knockout yourself,” Zoey laughed and stood back to admire India’s long dark teal blue sheath that started with a high neck and followed India’s curves until it ended at the ankles. “Those jewel colors really do set off your hair and your eyes.”

Zoey reached a hand up to touch India’s strawberry blond curls.

“And where is my big brother?” Zoey asked.

“The last I saw him, he was headed out through the back door with an old friend.” India leaned closer and whispered, “This is your Ben, isn’t it? Nick’s old friend, the one you told me about once. The one who left and went away for years, is back now. . . .”

Zoey bit her bottom lip and nodded.

“I met Nick’s friend, Zoey. He’s nice,” Corri chimed in. “He has a little car and the top comes off. He said I could have a ride tomorrow with the top off if it doesn’t rain.” Without pausing for breath, she went on. “Isn’t the lake beautiful? I saw Delia’s swans. India said I could be in the wedding. You and Georgia and Darla, too. And we get to wear dresses that reach all the way to the floor.”

“Breathe.” India admonished the child just as she appeared to be ready to launch into another round. She handed Corri a cookie and said, “Here. Eat something. Give your mind a rest. Go get some punch to drink with it.”

Zoey laughed along with India as Corri skipped off to find the punch bowl. All the while, Zoey’s eyes were darting from one side of the room to the other, then trying to see over the crowd onto the front hallway, scanning the group, hoping that no one would notice.

India did, and knew exactly whose face Zoey sought.

“He’s with Nick,” she told Zoey quietly. “In your mother’s study.”

“Who?’

Ignoring Zoey’s feeble attempt to appear nonchalant, India laughed. “Is he as wonderful as he looks? Your Ben?”

“He’s not my Ben.”

“Oh, but how could he resist you?” India’s eyes sparkled. “You look absolutely stunning, Zoey.”

“Well, I admit that I was hoping to get his attention.” Zoey lowered her voice.

“Oh, I don’t think getting his attention is going to be a problem.” India tilted her head slightly toward the doorway, where Ben was poised to enter the room behind Nick. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Zoey, as if stunned.

“Whatever you paid for that dress, it was worth every blessed penny,” India whispered in her ear as Nick approached them, oblivious to the fact that his friend was in a state of suspended animation, stuck somehow between one footstep and the next.

“Hello, Duchess. I’m glad you finally made it.” Nick hugged his sister and placed a kiss on her forehead, then stepped back to look at her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Nicky.”

“Pretty,” Ben had managed to make his feet move those few steps forward and stood in front of her feeling awkward and gawky and somehow the two syllables had found their way out of his mouth. He touched the flowers in her hair, wishing he could think of something besides that one word.
Pretty. I sound like Tarzan. Or Frankenstein.

Zoey smiled. “Actually, I should be thanking you for them.”

He looked puzzled, so she added, “They were in the bouquet you gave me last week. I dried them.”

Feeling very pleased but not quite sure why, Ben merely nodded, still having difficulties in making his tongue understand that one of its primary functions was speech. He wasn’t certain, but thought it might have something to do with the loud buzzing between his ears, which had seemed to begin the second he walked into the room and saw Zoey.

India laughed and tugged Nick’s arm. “Let’s get a drink. Then you can introduce me to that crowd over there in the corner.”

Nick glanced behind him. “That’s my mother’s agent and her editor.”

“Well, their conversation is obviously far too deep for this occasion. Introduce me and let’s see if we can lighten them up a little.”

Zoey turned to Ben and was about to say something when a waiter passed by with a tray of fluted glasses glistening with champagne.

“Would you like a glass? Ben asked.

“Actually, I think I would rather have a glass of Chablis.”

Her smile having nearly knocked him out, Ben grabbed Zoey’s elbow and headed in the general direction of the bar. At least he hoped that’s where he was going. He’d been so dazzled that, for a moment, he almost felt the urge to blink, like one whose eyes had stared into the sun and needed time to adjust to normal light. He managed somehow to find the bar, order two drinks, and pass hers along to her without spilling either.

“So, I see you and Nicky had a few minutes to talk together,” she said to break the silence. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

“Seeing Nicky after all these years.”

“Oh. Great. Wonderful. Nick is one of those people who never changes, you know? He seems to be the same good guy I knew when I was fourteen.”

“He is. The same, I mean. And you will adore India when you get to know her. She is just wonderful.”

“Now, tell me who the older woman is? The one with your mother.”

“That’s India’s Aunt August. She raised India and her brother after their mother died.”

“And the little girl?” He asked as Corri blew in one door and out the next.

“That’s Corri Devlin. India’s older brother, Ry, had been married briefly to Corri’s mother, and had adopted her. When Ry died, India became Corri’s guardian, and started the proceedings to adopt her.”

“What happened to the child’s mother?”

“That is a long story,” Zoey remarked, not wanting to waste precious moments talking about Maris Devlin, India’s former sister-in-law and persona non grata in the Devlin household. “But we all adore Corri. My mother positively dotes on her.”

“Your mother positively dotes on everyone, it seems.”

“That is an understatement.” Zoey sipped at her drink and waved to one of her mother’s neighbors who had just arrived. “She mentioned that she offered to let you move into the old carriage house.”

“She did.”

They had gravitated through the French doors leading out to the small back porch that overlooked the pond.

“And you said . . .” Zoey leaned back against the porch railing and crossed her legs, leaving one to dangle from the knee of the other, her skirt hiked halfway up her calf.

“That I’d think about it.” He licked his lips to moisten them, as they seemed suddenly almost too dry for speech.

“Are you?”

“I’m trying to.”
Trying to think about anything except what you’re probably not wearing under that dress.

“Trying
to think about it?” She asked, aware of his plight and pleased by it.

“I have a lot on my mind right now,” he mumbled, not daring to permit his eyes to drop lower than her chin.

“Oh, I imagine you do.” She smiled sweetly. “New job, new home—and I’ll bet you miss racing.”

“I do,” he nodded, trying to snap out of it.

“What’s the fastest speed you ever drove?” she asked.

“A little over two A little over two hundred miles per hour. Thereabouts.”

“Really? What did it feel like?”

“It feels like nothing else. Nothing.”

“Hmmm.” She traced the rim of her glass with the tip of her index finger. “What do you miss most?”

“That feeling of being on the edge,” he answered without hesitation.

“You mean, of danger?”

“That, and of life. You know how very much alive you are when you are most aware of how little it would take to end it. And when you are rounding a curve at top speed, there is no question in your mind just how little it would take to send you hurtling into the next dimension.”

“A sharp turn of the wheel?”

He shook his head. “Not even. A small twist of the wrist is often all it might take.”

“You really would have to have a lot of control to keep yourself on the road.”

He nodded, wondering if he should mention that he was, at that moment, exercising as much self-control in keeping his hands to himself, as ever he had in a race, but decided to let it go.

From the big solarium, where an artificial floor had been placed over the pool to permit dancing, soft music flowed as the band resumed their play. Ben reached into one of the nearby floral arrangements and snapped an orchid off its stem. He presented it to her and asked, “Would you like to dance?’”

Zoey slid off the porch rail, her heart pounding in her chest, and rested her arms around his neck. His hands encircled her waist and drew her body close to his. They swayed slowly as the music surrounded them. He hummed in her ear and the skin on the side of her face nearest his mouth prickled with the closeness of him. She twirled the orchid between her thumb and her forefinger to focus on something besides the tension that was building inside her. Ben glanced down and studied her apparent fascination with the flower.

“If I had taken you to your prom, I would have brought you a corsage,” he told her. “Probably a white orchid. It suits you.”

“You said that about my name, the first time I met you.” She reminded him.

“It suited you then, and it suits you now. It’s different.
Exotic. Sensual. I just didn’t know those words back then.”

She ran the orchid petals along her bottom lip, still looking into his eyes.
If he doesn’t kiss me
—
right now
—
I think I’ll . . . I’ll . . . I’ll . . .

It didn’t matter that she couldn’t think of an
or else,
because at that moment he touched the side of her mouth with his, then brushed his lips slowly, agonizingly slowly across hers. She turned her face completely up to his, and tugged slightly at his neck to urge him closer. Her lips parted slightly as he kissed her, tentatively, then deeper, deeper still, until she thought she’d pass out from the sheer delight of the sensation that spread through her. She pressed herself into him and his arms slid down her bare back, sending waves of shivers from her neck to her ankles.