Least Likely Wedding? Read online

  She waited.

  Nothing.

  “Ohhh-kay.” She manufactured a smile. “I guess it was just me. Time for me to exit stage left and—”

  “It wasn’t just you.”

  And that was it. Full stop.

  Kay felt a sliver of I-knew-it joy. But it quickly died, because he did not appear to have any intention of repeating the activity anytime soon. And soon was all she had left.

  She sure could use another line or two of dialogue to figure out this guy. Apparently she was going to have to drag it out of him.

  “Then, what—?”

  “Kay? Oh, my dear, I am so relieved that you have not left yet.” Trudi Bliss came hurrying up, a satchel of books weighing down one shoulder. She was accompanied by a blond girl with a strong-willed mouth, who carried an armload of books.

  “I do so enjoy the fine prospect that Bliss House offers from this hilltop, although the price of our superb view is that one must climb to reach it from any direction. And with these volumes… Oh, thank you, Rob,” Miss Trudi added as he took the heavy satchel from her. “You are so kind.”

  “Come sit down, Miss Trudi.” Kay guided her to the bench tucked into the new brick wall that defined the patio.

  “Nell spotted your shuttle bus departing as we exited the library, and I feared you had departed as well. Kay, this is Nell Corbett, she is Steve and Annette’s daughter. Nell, this is Kay Aaronson.”

  “The movie lady?” The child’s eyes brightened.

  “Yes,” Miss Trudi said at the same time Kay said, “Trying to be.”

  “I’m going to win Oscars,” Nell said.

  “Which one? Acting or directing or—?”

  “Not just one. Lots of different kinds.”

  “Nell has varied ambitions,” Rob said in a low voice.

  Kay bit on the inside of her cheeks to control her grin.

  “But they wouldn’t let me watch the movie being made.” Nell’s tone lodged the complaint.

  “Weren’t you at day camp?” Rob asked.

  Nell shrugged. “I can already swim. But I haven’t made a movie and now it’s all done and the movie lady’s leaving.”

  “Not until the morning.” Kay turned to Miss Trudi. “And I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye and thank you. Especially not since I owe you a huge favor. If there’s anything I can send you or arrange for—”

  “No, no, my dear. However, there is something I request in return for arranging for Rob to complete your video.”

  “Beware Miss Trudi the headhunter,” Rob murmured.

  An excellent headhunter, Kay thought, because she’d bagged the perfect head—his.

  “Nell, my dear, will you excuse us for a few moments of private conversation? No, Rob, please stay.” He stopped, while Nell went to the back steps. “Kay, dear, I am pleased to have assisted you, as I am pleased that you have expressed a willingness now to assist me.”

  “Of course. What can I do for you, Miss Trudi?” Kay asked, keeping her gaze off Rob’s perfect head.

  “Oh, my dear, it is not for me, as such. It is for Bliss House, which in turn will benefit Tobias and I shall benefit in seeing both those entities benefit.” She smiled. “Your grandmother has told me of your great successes, not only artistically, but in promoting tours. We should like you to use your talents to promote the opening of Bliss House in its new incarnation.”

  Oh, my God. When Rob had said beware Miss Trudi the headhunter, he’d meant she was hunting her head.

  “I spoke with your grandmother, and she very much hopes you will agree. We know that with your creativity and energy, the opening shall draw many more visitors and much greater attention than it would without your assistance.”

  A tingle of interest climbed Kay’s spine. She had enjoyed promoting those artistic tours, and Bliss House was a fantastic place….

  Then another thought hit Kay.

  “But…but Bliss House isn’t opening for weeks.”

  The older woman nodded. “Our opening is set for the weekend of October fifteen, which is eight weeks from now.”

  “Eight weeks. But…you mean you want me to stay here eight weeks?”

  “Yes.” Miss Trudi beamed. “We will find you somewhere comfortable to live.”

  “Miss Trudi, she has to go back to New York and edit what she shot here,” Rob interrupted. “Filming is just part of the job.”

  “Actually, I don’t have to edit.” Was it Kay’s imagination, or was he eager to hurry her out of town? “Serge, the producer, wants all the raw footage. He said he doesn’t know what he wants to use until he sees it. But I suspect he wants to see what sort of work I do before it’s edited.”

  Miss Trudi’s beam, momentarily dimmed, returned to full wattage. “That is wise of him, as well as fortunate for us, since it means you can stay in Tobias.”

  “But I don’t know anything about promoting a crafts center.”

  On the other hand, she had made a promise.

  You find the man, Miss Trudi, and I’ll do anything you want.

  “That’s okay,” Rob said. “Nobody could expect you to survive eight weeks in the wilds of Wisconsin.”

  She knew when someone agreeing with her did not qualify as a compliment. “I’ll do better than survive. I’ll do a great job.”

  “You agree to help us?” Chiffon and all, Miss Trudi lifted in hope.

  It would take time for the video to get into the pipeline and even longer to get noticed. She couldn’t land another assignment even if she were in New York. So, staying in Tobias should barely affect her plan’s schedule.

  And there was another benefit to staying here. A big one.

  We will find you somewhere comfortable to live….

  She wouldn’t have to worry about the jungle of Manhattan real estate quite yet. Without rent to pay, she could save most of the trust-fund income for two months and build up her nest egg, which had been nearly sucked dry when she’d paid all the expenses of the elaborate wedding her mother had planned. It had only seemed fair for her to pay, since she’d been the one to cancel the wedding.

  She would agree to do this for those practical reasons.

  “Yes.”

  “How wonderful,” Miss Trudi said. “Now, here’s what I’ve planned…”

  As for Rob, she could take a hint. He wasn’t interested in pursuing The Kiss. Not for thirteen hours; certainly not for eight weeks. She might have liked the thirteen hours, but longer was out of the question. She would steer well clear of him.

  Lost in thought, Kay must have missed something, because Rob was holding her tote bags.

  “Wait—what—?”

  With two bags slung over one shoulder and the other in an easy grasp, he gestured for her to precede him down the drive toward the street.

  “Miss Trudi pointed out you don’t have a car,” he said, “and the motel’s too far for you to walk, especially with all this, so Nell and I are giving you a lift on our way home.”

  It occurred to Kay then that steering clear of someone might not be as easy in Tobias, Wisconsin, as it was in Manhattan.

  Chapter Three

  Rob analyzed odds, calculated risks and weighed decisions as a profession. He was good at it, with a natural ability polished under the mentoring of Mitchell Gordon, leading to a meteoric rise in the Chicago financial community. Although Rob knew of no formula to quantify this situation, he did know the chance of a relationship between him and Kay Aaronson being anything other than a disaster.

  Zero.

  Start with the obvious differences in backgrounds. Add her blithe dumping of her fiancé and how she’d described Brice—a weaselly snitch with no loyalty. That did fit Brice, but she’d said one more crucial line.

  There are a million things more important than rules.

  Then there was the timing.

  Even if he’d been looking for a relationship, even if he’d considered one with someone who had no regard for rules, he wasn’t idiot enough to start one now.


  “…and after I write the books that are even more popular than Harry Potter, I’m going to make them into movies myself,” Nell was saying when he tuned in to her chatter. “So it’s a good thing Kay’s staying, so I can learn about movies from her.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Nell needed no more encouragement to elaborate on her moviemaking career-to-be and how she would graciously thank everyone when she accepted her unspecified Academy Award.

  He turned on to Kelly Street, which ran behind the block-deep yard of the house where he and Fran grew up. The house where Steve, Annette and Nell lived faced Kelly Street, directly behind the Daltons’. Next door to the Daltons’ and kitty-corner from Steve’s current home was imposing Corbett House, where Steve and his younger brother, Zach, had grown up, and where Lana Corbett now lived alone.

  Nell said thank you for the ride and hopped out with her books. In the rearview mirror, Rob saw Steve crossing the street toward him. Steve stopped to say something to Nell, before she scurried home.

  As soon as Rob opened the car door, Steve pounced. “So, what’s the story with that video director and the way you two locked lips?”

  “You waited out here to give me grief, Corbett?”

  “I was taking the garbage out,” Steve lied cheerfully, then sobered. “I’ve never seen you so, uh, involved in a kiss, and I was at your wedding.”

  “It was acting.”

  “Bull.” He said it with no heat, as if he didn’t need heat to make his point. “It’s about time you got back in the game.”

  “Yeah, like you did such a great job at that before Annette came back.”

  “So learn from my mistakes. I know Janice did a number on you, but getting back on your feet is what you came home for this summer, isn’t it?”

  Not exactly.

  “It’s a shame this video director’s leaving in the morning,” Steve continued, “so you won’t have the chance to get to know each other.”

  Rob said nothing.

  With the ease of a lifelong friend, Steve read the quality of that silence and whistled. “She’s not leaving?”

  “Apparently not right away,” Rob acknowledged. “Miss Trudi has asked her to remain in town and help promote the Bliss House opening. Of course, the committee could withhold approval and—”

  “No way. That’s a great idea. Unless—what are the financial arrangements?”

  “No salary. We’re supposed to find her a place to stay.”

  “I like this idea more and more. What I don’t understand is why you’re not dancing in the streets. In fact, there are plenty of guest rooms in that big house of Fran’s—” he tipped his head toward it “—even with you taking up one.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Rob said dryly.

  “That’s your trouble, Rob, you think too much.”

  “You’re not exactly a wild and crazy guy yourself, Steve.”

  “Just wild and crazy enough,” Steve said, his attention still on the news about Kay. “And I have a feeling this one’s going to drive you wild or crazy or both.”

  “She’s not my type.”

  “Then rethink your type, buddy. Judging from that kiss—”

  “She dumped her fiancé twelve days before the wedding.” Not to mention the other factors—literally not to mention them, because he wasn’t telling Steve any of that.

  “And that’s supposed to convince me she’s irredeemable? You do remember my history with Annette, don’t you?” he asked. Annette had walked out of their first wedding eight years ago. She and Steve did a lot of maturing before they were ready for their second wedding, and a marriage that worked.

  “Kay dismissed it like an everyday occurrence. After Janice… No, thanks. I’m not going near someone prone to walking out. If that makes me less than wild and crazy, that’s the way it is.”

  “You always were too stubborn for your own good,” Steve grumbled. Then he grinned. “You know, all this talk about wild and crazy reminds me…it’s time to go home to my wife.”

  Kay sat on the wall whose gentle curve enclosed Bliss House’s patio, her fingers feeling the brick’s shaded coolness, her head tipped back and her eyes closed, absorbing the pleasant breeze and ignoring the sounds of construction on the far side of the building.

  She could swear Miss Trudi had said eleven-fifteen, but Kay seemed to be the only one here.

  And then she knew she wasn’t alone. Not only that, but she had the strongest suspicion she knew who was here. It felt like the heat of the sun abruptly cranked up.

  She cracked her eyes open. Rob Dalton. A dozen feet away, eyeing her as if wondering whether he could back away without her knowing he’d been here.

  She opened her eyes wide and sat up straight. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” His version sounded nearly as wary as it was polite. “Are you here for the meeting?”

  “Miss Trudi called and asked me to officially meet the Bliss House committee. Eleven-fifteen—central time.” She’d changed her watch last night as soon as Rob had closed the door to her motel room, having deposited the tote bags inside. As if being in the right time zone might prove something to him. “But the door’s locked, and nobody answered.”

  He checked his watch. “Eleven-sixteen. It’s not like the others to be late. So, how’d you get here?”

  “Walked.”

  “That’s a couple miles.”

  She shrugged. “Twenty blocks.” She walked a lot in the city. Which drove her parents nearly as crazy as her propensity for taking the subway. What had slowed her this morning were all the people saying good morning. She kept stopping, believing she’d run across one of the handful of Tobias citizens she’d already met, but they were all strangers. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  And that was the end of that topic.

  As silence stretched out like bubble gum on a hot sidewalk, she tried to remember what they’d talked about yesterday before they’d kissed and everything had changed. Mostly the shoot, but she had nothing more to say about that. But there had been that I was a financial analyst thing.

  “You said you were a financial analyst, so what are you doing now?” Her words came out abrupt and a little ragged.

  He turned away, scanning Bliss House. “I took the summer off. Leave of absence.”

  “Oh. So you’ll be going back to financial analyzing in—Chicago wasn’t it? After Labor Day?”

  “Chicago,” he confirmed. “What about you? Have you always wanted to make music videos?”

  She slanted a look at him. “Hey, don’t make it sound better than it is,” she said with minimal sarcasm. He said it like she’d taken up exotic dancing. “Second-unit director, that’s what I am.”

  “Second-unit director. Is that what you want to do?”

  “This week.” She tried on a grin.

  “This week,” he repeated, his tone flat. Her grin died an awkward death. “And next week?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. I’m on a roll. I suppose you knew you wanted to be a financial analyst from your first breath. I have a lot of interests, so I had to eliminate some possibilities.”

  “Like a possible husband.”

  She ignored that. “It’s taken a while to sort out my options for a career, but now I have a plan. The music video’s just a start.”

  “What did you eliminate?”

  She waved a hand. “A few things.”

  “Like?”

  “Sculpting. After decoupage and mobile-making. I taught, too.”

  “Which? Sculpting or mobile-making?”

  Kay was not a touchy person. She knew she wasn’t. But the particular tone this particular man used for those particular words felt like someone had raked a comb over sunburned skin. It was that intonation of he-should-have-known-she’d-do-something-flaky like sculpting or mobile-making. The oral equivalent of rolling his eyes.

  “Both. I’ve done a lot of jobs.” She made sure he couldn’t miss what her tone said right back
at him: Want to make something of it, buster?

  His mouth opened, as if to respond. Instead, he turned his head, and in a second she heard what had caught his attention—voices of several people walking this way from the parking area. The same group who’d watched filming yesterday. In a flurry of introductions, she cemented names and faces. They all welcomed her warmly, though Fran, Rob’s sister, was quieter than the rest.

  “Why’re you out here?” Steve Corbett asked.

  “Kay said the door’s locked.”

  “Really?” That was Annette Corbett. “It shouldn’t be. Miss Trudi’s usually the first one here and has things set up.”

  “It should work,” Annette’s brother, Max Trevetti, said. “The old door handle stuck, but I replaced it.”

  Suz Grant sighed. “I miss that old door handle.”

  The look Max gave Suz should have combusted the woman on the spot; instead, she smiled at him, wide and promising. It didn’t take a detective to figure out something had happened between the two of them involving the now-replaced door handle, and whatever it had been was a powerful memory. Powerful and private.

  Kay looked away and right into the eyes of Rob Dalton.

  That’s what she got for respecting Max and Suz’s privacy.

  Rob apparently had come to the same conclusion about Max and Suz’s exchange, because the recognition of sexual heat in the vicinity was plain on his face. And it had combined with a memory of the way their mouths had fit together. Or was she projecting her own memories, her own heat?

  “The door’s not locked.”

  Max’s bemused announcement dragged Kay’s head around, away from Rob.

  Sure enough the door swung open under Max’s push.

  “I swear that door was locked.”

  Her protest was lost as they filed inside. At that moment, Miss Trudi came bustling around from the front of the house, apologizing for keeping everyone waiting and asking who would like tea.

  Kay went to wash up after her walk. When she returned, one opening remained at the table for her. Right next to Rob. Oh, goody.

  “As I believe all of you know, Kay has agreed, as a favor to us, to apply her skill and imagination to the task of drawing the public’s attention to the opening of Bliss House in October,” Miss Trudi said.