He breaks into a boyish grin, and my heart slams against my chest. This close to him, I can see that his bottom teeth are slightly crooked. I don’t understand how anyone willing to drop several grand on constructing an ice maze wouldn’t have straightened his teeth. Perhaps he knows that this one endearing imperfection makes him even more irresistible. I try not to stare, but it’s a struggle.
“I picked out my outfit myself. Do you approve?” His eyes spark, almost as if he’s flirting.
“Uh, yeah. It’s a good look. More in theme with the party.”
“That’s the goal.” Another few beats of awkward silence. I’m searching the crowd for a reason to flee.
“Have you eaten?” he asks. Is he worried about me going hungry? Or asking me to eat with him?
“I had a slice of the wood oven pizza.”
“What type?”
“Garlic and honey.”
“Hmm . . . ”
“Wrong choice?” I ask.
“There’s no wrong choice with pizza.”
“Some say pineapple and ham is an abomination.”
He chuckles. “Those people are uptight.”
I raise my brows. “Excuse me, but aren’t you the living, breathing definition of uptight?” He laughs outright. And the effect is transformative, in a good way.
“I can be, but not about pizza.” He seems fine with my comment. Perhaps even pleased by my insolence, but my cheeks still burn. I can’t believe I called our wealthiest client “uptight” to his face. I’m itching to leave. The woman helping kids paint homemade ornaments looks a bit harried.
“Excuse me, I need to assist a vendor.” I don’t wait for his reply. I have no idea why Darcy sought me out. But the whole exchange leaves me unsettled. I successfully avoid him for the rest of the party.
***
Afterward, Jane finds me in the kitchen.“Why are you doing dishes?” She chides me. This is work for the caterer.”
“I promised Anne Darcy I’d wash them myself. These are Darcy family dishes, some are heirlooms.”
Jane eyes the stack of platters. “No wonder they requested you. Always doing extra work.” She sighs. “At least let me help; it’s getting late.”
“Can you believe this kitchen?” She marvels while drying a platter. “There’s so much marble I feel like I’m in the Capitol building.” The island and the backsplash are all gleaming white marble, but the natural wood floors and sage green cabinets keep the room from feeling cold and austere. It’s actually quite cozy.
A door opens. Firm footsteps. I tense, preparing to see Liam. But when I turn around, I greet Charlie Bingham, crossing through the kitchen.
“Hello, Lettie, is it?”
“Yes, I’m impressed you remember.”
“That’s why old Darcy keeps me around. He needs me to balance out his lack of people skills.” I find it amusing that he keeps referring to Liam as old when the two are the same age.
“And who’s this?” Charlie turns to Jane, whose back is still to him while drying dishes. She pivots toward him.
I see the moment it happens—Charlie is struck by the glory that is Jane. His eyes widen, and his mouth drops open. Jane has this effect on a lot of men. But this seems an extreme case. Charlie closes his mouth and stares like a hungry child in front of a bakery window.
Jane extends a hand to him. Beginning to recover, he takes her hand. “Charmed,” he whispers, and he looks it. To be more precise, he appears smitten, and who can blame him? Jane is quite possibly the most beautiful woman in the world. Her mom’s a former model from Austria; her dad was a professional soccer player from Brazil; and Jane is the perfect blend of both with light-brown skin, fairytale curly black hair, ethereal blue eyes, and dramatic cheekbones.
“Me too,” says Jane, and she giggles. The air in the room shifts, and suddenly, I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment.
Charlie clears his throat. “Here, let me help. I know where things go and can help put them away.”
