Get Bunny Love (13 page)

“I was told you’d promised him the firm.” One roguish eyebrow lifted.

“If he pulled off a successful Worthington Cup.” Martha met Armand’s curious stare full on. “He hasn’t done that yet, has he?”

Armand rocked back in his seat. “Understood.”

Martha’s pulse kicked to an even faster clip. She was risking her reputation by trusting this man, yet she felt it the surest way to achieve her goal.

If she could ensure Nate’s marriage to Melanie and sell the firm, her nephew would accept the position with Brittingham Insurance. He’d no longer have the stress of running his own firm. He’d be married to a solid woman of upstanding character. His position in society would be safe.
Secure
.

“Martha.” Armand spread his arms and chuckled. “You look so serious. When have I ever let you down?”

He never had. She could only hope there wouldn’t be a first time. “The firm is yours if you do this for me.”

Armand’s smile faded, his gaze intent, focused like a hawk calculating the distance to his prey. “Consider it done.”

CHAPTER TEN

Bunny pushed open the door to her apartment, all thoughts of her impending date scattering from her mind as she set sight on the mess inside. An empty Starbucks cup and assorted candy wrappers lay strewn across the coffee table, which, to Bunny’s horror, sat at a terrible angle, blocking the energy flow for the entire apartment.

She scanned the rest of the room. Nothing was where it had been when she’d left that morning. “Alexandra?” Her voice sounded strained, tense. No wonder. The chi screamed stifled. Hell. The chi screamed Alexandra.

“Yes, dear.” Her mother zipped past, picking up her clutter and depositing it in the kitchen trash. She zoomed back past, headed toward the bedrooms.

Bunny took a step backward, contemplating leaving altogether. The woman moved quicker than the Energizer Bunny on a sugar buzz. “Has Daddy called?” Maybe he could calm her mother down, if he’d only get up here and face the situation.

“No, dear.” Alexandra reappeared in the living room, her overnight bag in hand.

“You’re leaving?” Anxiety fluttered through Bunny. She might be driving her slowly insane, but as long as Alexandra stayed under the same roof, Bunny knew she was all right.

“Overnight greeting card seminar.” Her mother’s face glowed with excitement.

“With your teacher?” Bunny asked suspiciously.

“He says I’m a natural.” Alexandra straightened.

“I’ll bet he does,” Bunny muttered.

“Speak up, dear. It’s uncouth to mumble.”

Bunny rolled her eyes. It was also uncouth to trash your daughter’s carefully decorated apartment. Her mother probably thought feng shui was a small island in the Pacific.

“Why is it you left Daddy because of tidy canned goods, yet you insist on reorganizing my entire life?” Bunny asked.

“That’s different, dear. You could use some order in your life.”

Control was what she wanted to say. She couldn’t fool Bunny. She’d lived this battle her entire childhood.

“I met an old friend of yours today.” Bunny threw out the information, deciding a change of subject was in order. “Martha McNulty. I don’t know her maiden name.”

“Martha.” Alexandra made a dramatic show of rubbing her chin. Bunny decided she might just be taking the tortured artist thing a bit too far. Suddenly, she jabbed a finger in Bunny’s direction. “Talented artist. Pen and ink, correct?”

“Martha McNulty?” Bunny choked back a snort. “Doubtful.”

Her mother nodded as she breezed toward the front door. “I’m sure I’m right. I should call her about the new card line. She’d be perfect.” She yanked open the front door, pausing to give Bunny one last look. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.”

“Be careful, Mom. I don’t know about this teacher of yours-”

Her mother waved her free hand toward the living room wall. “We need to talk about your color scheme. I’m thinking eggshell. These jumbled shades can’t be good for your eyes.”

Bunny bristled. Now the woman had gone too far. “Did you ever stop to think I have things just how I want them?”

Alexandra paused, her expression horrified. “Oh, dear. This space is too colorful. Everything clashes.”

Bunny glanced at the carefully chosen bright, warm colors, savoring the eclectic, yet vibrant, energy they created.

“What you need,” Alexandra gestured toward the kitchen, “is some eggshell.”

Bunny shuddered.
Eggshell
? “I don’t think so.”

“Neutral is in, darling. You’ll see.”

She was gone before Bunny could rouse herself from her stunned silence.
Jumbled shades, her behind
.

She raced for the phone, frantically punching in her parents’ number in Florida. Enough was enough.

“Daddy,” she spat out when the machine picked up. “If you love me at all, you’ll get on the next plane up here and save me from this sugar-munching, caffeine-guzzling menace.” She glared at the horrible flow between the sofa and stuffed chair, clutching the phone tight to her mouth. “Or else the next verse she writes may be her last.”

o0o

Bert stood at the curb. The evening was quickly growing dark and the air had the bite of a cold winter to come. He hoisted his hand in the air, signaling to an approaching cab. The yellow car whizzed past, its backseat already occupied.

“Damn.” Tired and cold, he only wanted his warm apartment and a long, hot shower.

“Psst.” A woman’s voice sounded.

Bert pivoted but saw no one save the statue outside the building’s revolving door. He turned back to face the street, completing another futile attempt to wave down a cab.

Soft feminine laughter rang out behind him, but the sidewalk remained empty, except for the statue. He must be losing it.

“Psst.”

Bert spun again, glaring at the statue. Statue? There had never
been
a statue there before, and this particular specimen was quite lovely.

A familiar niggling tickled his brain and he took a step closer. Pale green, the statue stood like an ethereal vision—hands clasped, long hair upswept into a graceful style.

A cool breeze rippled down the street. Bert turned up the collar of his jacket just as the air caught the statue’s dress. The soft material fluttered.

Wait a minute. Statues didn’t flutter. Did they? He stepped closer and peered into the statue’s eyes.

She winked.

“What the-” Bert stumbled backward.

The statue shook with laughter and dropped her arms to her waist. She bent to peer into an upturned cup at her feet. “How am I doing?”

“Matilda?” Bert’s heart rapped against his ribcage. “Is that you?”

“Took you long enough.” She hoisted up her skirt to step down from her platform. She plucked the cup from the sidewalk, rattling the contents as she peered inside. “Not bad.”

“I think you gave me a heart attack.”

Her grin was devilish and alluring. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

She frowned. “You’re playing havoc with Bunny’s energy.”

His pulse quickened. “Me, personally?”

She jerked her thumb toward the building. “This job. Come on. I’ll buy you a drink and we’ll chat.”

Bert hesitated for a moment then smiled. She was a vision in pale green. “You’re on, Matilda.”

She tucked her cup full of money into the folds of her dress, held out her arm and nodded. “Let’s go, Parks. And call me Tilly.”

o0o

Bunny wondered if her face looked as pinched as it felt. Armand Miller had positioned himself in such a manner as to watch his reflection in the restaurant’s mirrored wall. Bunny rolled her eyes. There was no reason not to. After all, her dining companion certainly wasn’t looking at her.

She twisted in her seat and frowned into the mirror. Armand’s gaze slithered from his own perfectly reflected features to hers. His eyes widened with the realization that he’d been caught admiring himself.

“Thought I might have had a spot of food on my mouth.” He made a show of dabbing at his upper lip.

Right
, Bunny thought. As if anything could grab hold. His lips hadn’t stopped moving long enough for a crumb to stick. Apparently, as enamored as the man was with his reflection, he was even more infatuated by the sound of his own voice.

Bunny had tuned out long ago. Somewhere between the entrée and the Death by Chocolate dessert she’d ordered to put herself out of her misery, she’d stopped listening. And to think, she’d thought Armand harbored romantic feelings for her. “Ha,” she sputtered out loud. The only eyes he’d been gazing into tonight had been his own.

Armand’s brows puckered. “Yes,” he said. “That’s right. How did you know? That’s exactly what I said.”

Bunny shook her head and refocused on her tea. Lord help her, she’d never be swayed by a face as pretty as Armand Miller’s again. She’d prefer another lecture from Nate to this torture. And it
was
torture. Armand had promised tips on The Worthington Cup and instead the night had been a nonstop litany of his Philadelphia social status.

“Now you really ought to pay attention to this, Beatrice.”

Bunny downed the last of her herbal tea, hoping if she finished quickly, they’d be able to end the evening. She rolled her eyes impatiently.

“Something in your eye, gorgeous?”

Yes. Your ego
, she thought. “It’s gone. Thank you.”

“I was explaining about the leads, Beatrice.”

“The leads?” She narrowed her eyes. “Leads for what?”

“For the dogs. Kitty specifically wanted them to match the theme of the show.” Armand sat back, cutting his eyes quickly to the mirror then focusing them on Bunny. “She loves the color purple, and I’ve found a source for purple leads.” He leaned forward and held a finger to his perfectly pursed lips. “Kitty will think you’re a genius.” He slid a business card across the table. “Tell them you need the
special
leashes.”

Okay, so perhaps the night wasn’t a total loss.

“How about an after-dinner liqueur?” He did a quick scan of the room. “I thought I saw the Monroes, didn’t you? I hear they’re looking for someone to handle this year’s tournament.”

That
got Bunny’s attention. Thurston Monroe? Here?

“I have an early meeting tomorrow.” She reached for her clutch purse. “If you want to stay and mingle, that’s fine. I’m quite tired actually.” She stood and pushed her chair beneath the table. “I’ve had a lovely time.”

“Armand,” a high-pitched woman’s voice cooed. “Lovely to see you.”

Miller stood, smoothing a hand quickly over his glossed hair as he stepped around the table. “Lovey. It’s been too long.”

Oh my God. First she had to spend the evening with the most self-centered man in all of Philadelphia and now she was stranded on Gilligan’s Island.

“Beatrice.”

She winced. Thurston’s deep voice sent the small hairs on the back of her neck popping to attention. Bunny plastered on her warmest smile and turned to greet them.

“Bunny.” Lovey Monroe’s bright smile lit her face. “I hear your mother’s launching a new line of greeting cards.”

Bunny squinted, the only expression she could muster to avoid rolling her eyes.

“And you’re working at Martha McNulty’s firm,” Lovey continued. “Glad to hear you gave up the drawing.” She wiggled her fingers. “Or whatever it was.”

“Drawing?” Armand cocked a questioning brow.

“Graphic design,” Bunny chirped. “I handled graphic design for several of my clients.”

“Clients?” Lovey’s voice raised two octaves. “Thurston told me you were bro-”

“Look.” Bunny pointed to the hostess who gestured impatiently at the Monroes. “I think your table’s ready.”

Thurston and Lovey made a beeline for their seating. Bunny took her time before she turned to face Armand.

“Bro-?” he questioned.

“Brilliant.” Bunny gave a quick shrug. “Thurston’s forever saying how brilliant I am.” She cast a wary glance at the silver-haired grouch’s head then smiled. “He’s a big fan.”

Bunny crossed her fingers behind her back. If Armand ever asked Thurston to corroborate the story, her total lack of experience would be exposed. Even worse, the Monroes knew Martha McNulty. Cold chills danced down Bunny’s spine.

If Martha learned Bunny’s event planning experience was a lie, she’d be out of a job before the ink dried on her mortgage application.

She stole one last look at the Monroes as they settled at their table. She could only hope they had no occasion to run into Martha until The Worthington Cup was over and her mortgage was a done deal.

o0o

Nate rapped on the door and waited for Melanie to answer. Her garden’s late season roses filled the evening air with a sweet, warm scent. He glanced at his watch. Nine thirty. She must be home.

He rapped the knocker again and heard her voice call out from inside. “Who is it?”

“It’s Nate.” His voice boomed in the quiet of the upper-class neighborhood.

The door creaked open and Melanie ushered him inside. She was covered head to toe in a pale velour robe. Its zipper looked ready to choke her, she’d pulled it so high. Bright blue shimmering heels sheathed her feet. Even more odd was the cold cream slathered all over her face.

“Bad time?”

She shook her head. “Just taking off my makeup.”

Nate nodded to her feet. “And those?”

Melanie glanced downward and gasped. “Forgot those. I need to return them,” she stammered. “They’re all wrong.”

Nate narrowed his eyes, suspicion growing inside him. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

She rapidly shook her head. “Come on in. I’ll wash my face and be right back. What can I get you?”

“How about some scotch?”

“Coming right up.”

Nate settled in Melanie’s warm, white living room. He sat, leaning his head back against her leather recliner and closing his eyes. What in the hell was Melanie doing wearing such outrageous high heels? She looked like a stripper, quite frankly. Well, except for the head to toe robe.

Guilt gnawed at his belly when he realized he hadn’t even kissed her. To be honest, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Nothing had crossed his mind tonight other than the image of Bunny out on a date with Armand Miller.