who only wanted to go to her friend’s house to watch Dawson’s Creek, since there was no TV at her house, so that she could be part of the conversation about who was cuter, Pacey or Dawson, that invariably sprung up at school. She hadn’t had a computer or internet access, either, and the only way she got to listen to music that wasn’t performed by a family member was on an old Walkman one of her friends had given her when that friend had gotten a fancy new Discman for her birthday.
Grace had loved that Walkman. She didn’t care that it wasn’t the latest in technology and that the only tapes she had were those donated by the same friend and her parents, and mainly consisted of ’80s hair bands. It provided an audio oasis. A way for her to shut out the rest of her world and indulge in something normal, in a life closer to the ones she saw on TV at her friends’ houses.
“Oh, re-e-ally?” Owen drew the second word out, clearly finding her lying skills lacking.
She met his gaze head-on. “Do you really think I have nothing better to do than plunk your name into a search engine and see how many hits there are?” Answer: about one million in 0.31 seconds.
“I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging.” His dark eyes twinkled with laughter. “But yes, that’s exactly what I think. Did you like what you found?”
Grace exhaled and sipped her coffee, choosing not to answer. The man certainly didn’t need the ego boost. “I thought this was supposed to be a business meeting.”
“It is, and it’s my business to find out if you’ve been researching me.”
“Why?” Grace put the china cup down on the saucer with a click. “Why would it matter?” Who cared if she’d looked him up or not? It had nothing to do with her ability to plan an engagement party, nor did it answer the questions of what kinds of things should be included.
“Because then I’ll know if you’re likely to agree to go out with me or not.”
Grace shook her head. “We’ve been over this. My answer hasn’t changed.”
Owen tilted his head to the side. His hair was a little long and fell across his forehead. “And yet here you are with me now. On a pseudo date.”
“This is a business meeting.”
“With coffee and food and conversations about our families. I don’t know. Seems kind of date-like to me, don’t you think?”
“No.” Grace adjusted her napkin on her lap, though it hadn’t shifted since she’d first put it there. But she was lying again. Here at a beautiful restaurant with the hushed conversation of other couples around them and the gorgeous view of the water, it did feel like a date.
“I like you,” Owen said.
“You don’t know me.” And she wasn’t going out of her way to change that. Owen Ford was dangerous. Dangerous to her life both professionally and personally.
“I’d like to get to know you.”
Grace ignored the flash of heat under her skin. She wasn’t here to be cajoled and flattered. Not even by a man who made her teeth sweat. “I’d like to talk about the party.”
“We can do both.” Owen leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. Grace hated that she noticed the muscles in them. Probably from swinging a golf club. “You answer a question about yourself and then I’ll answer a question about the party.”
“No, that’s not how this is going to go.” She was sure this had worked for him before. Probably many times in the past, but she was no starry-eyed twenty-year-old awed by his charm and banter. She was almost thirty and she had a job to do. “We’ll discuss your ideas for the party while we enjoy a nice meal and then I’ll return to my office and draw up some plans, which I’ll send to you for review.”
“That doesn’t sound nearly as much fun.”
He was right, but to Grace, it sounded infinitely safer.
GRACE EXHALED SLOWLY, pushing thoughts of her date—no, it wasn’t a date—her meeting with Owen out of her mind, and focused on her line budget. Because the breakdown of costs for the engagement party Owen wanted to throw was far more important and interesting than how he’d rocked those dark jeans. Okay, more important, at least. And if she just hurried up and finished the stupid budget, she could work on something else. Something unrelated to Owen Ford and his family.
She fanned her face and checked the numbers on the page again, but her mind wandered back to those jeans and the way his butt looked in them. Dangerous ground. Would have been dangerous even if he was her type, which luckily, he was not.
Grace wasn’t looking for a playboy or a casual relationship. In fact, she wasn’t looking for anything right now. Not with the summer upon her and an absolute flurry of weddings over the next eight weeks. Each one would be given the same amount of attention and care because each couple had trusted her with their special day.
And that’s what she should be thinking about. Not Owen’s butt.
She actually managed to lose herself in the numbers for a couple of hours, making notations and edits. Using what she’d learned from previous weddings to make the next one better.
But when her phone rang, the ringtone an elegant measure of Beethoven that she used for work, her brain snapped to customer-service mode and seated there. Even when she saw the caller was Owen.
“Mr. Ford. How can I help you?”
“I thought we agreed to be on a first-name basis, Grace.”
The way he said her name sent a brief curl of pleasure into her bones. In his mouth, her name wasn’t cool or patrician. It wasn’t formal or chaste. It was soft and sexy. The kind of name a woman slipped on when she wanted to seduce someone.
Grace pushed the pleasure away and focused on business. “Well, then, Owen, what can I do for you?”
“I wanted to set up a time for you to come to the wine bar. See the space and layout, so you can get an idea for it.”
“Great.” She was already pulling up her calendar, which was synced to all her devices. “When were you thinking?”
“How about tonight?”
Grace’s fingers stilled on the keyboard. There was no reason she couldn’t go tonight. She had nothing planned and it would be better to see the space now, so she could start drawing up options immediately. And yet, she didn’t confirm. Because she’d just spent the morning having brunch with him.
“Unless you’ve got a hot date?”
“No.” Now, why had she answered that query immediately? Almost as if she was worried he’d think she was unavailable to go on a hot date with him. Which she was. She cleared her throat. “Tonight would be fine.”
But even as she took down directions on location and time, her mind continued to wander. And every time, it flashed on that hot butt in those hot jeans.
Not. Good.
* * *
OWEN SWIPED A CLOTH along the already clean bar, earning a glare from Stef, the bartender he’d poached from La Petite Bouchée, the restaurant owned and cheffed by his soon-to-be sister-in-law. It hadn’t been an intentional poaching.
He’d needed some extra help for the summer and Stef had wanted the extra hours to help pay for her next semester of schooling. It wasn’t his fault that Stef loved Elephants and working for him so much that she’d asked if she could make the position permanent. And it wasn’t as if he’d left Julia or her restaurant short-staffed. He’d interviewed and found a qualified candidate to replace Stef at the restaurant before getting Julia’s agreement. Not that this stopped her from claiming that he owed her.
But