GRACIE WONDERED if she would fight second thoughts on the drive back to his house. The night was dark, the car silent. Their only communication came from his hand holding hers, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand.
Her body was an odd combination of tension and relaxation. While the thought of them making love again had her quivering from the inside out, she also felt completely calm. As if this decision had been made a millennia ago and she was simply fulfilling her destiny.
“Want to stay at my place?” he asked quietly as they got close to the large mansion. “You could pull your car into the garage.”
“That sounds good,” she said.
He drove into the driveway and hit the remote control button. As the large double garage door opened, she slid out and walked around the corner to her car.
Five minutes later, she’d parked next to him and followed him into the massive kitchen. As it had before, the sight of the large, open space made her cake-baker heart beat faster.
“Kitchen envy,” she said with a sigh. “I need a twelve-step program to recover.”
“Can we take care of that later?”
“Sure.”
He crossed to the refrigerator. “Hungry?”
She followed him and tried to peer over his shoulder. “You have food?”
“I have take-out leftovers.” He grabbed a chilling bottle of champagne, then stepped back. “See anything you like?”
She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the champagne long enough to make a menu selection.
“Did you just happen to have that chilling in anticipation of the three F’s or…”
He coiled his free hand in her hair, tugged her head back, then pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was hot, quick and full of promise.
“I bought it yesterday.”
Passion flooded her brain, making it difficult to concentrate. “You mean after we…”
His dark gaze locked with hers. “After we made love. Yes. This isn’t generic, I-hope-I-get-lucky champagne. I bought it for you, Gracie.”
Her bare toes curled. She didn’t remember a man buying champagne for her before. Certainly not-she glanced at the label-Dom Perignon.
She closed the refrigerator door with a bump of her hip. “I’m not very hungry. For food.”
He smiled. “Good.”
He walked to a cabinet and removed two champagne glasses, then jerked his head toward the hallway.
“Shall we?”
“Absolutely.”
She followed him to the wide, curving staircase. On her last visit to his house, the tour hadn’t gotten this far. She noted several portraits on the walls. Previous generations of Whitefields, she wondered. But she didn’t want to spoil the mood by asking.
The staircase continued up to a third floor, but Riley stopped on the second and made a left turn. They passed four or five other rooms before he pushed open the door of one and stepped inside.
Gracie wasn’t sure what to expect. She didn’t know if Riley wanted to sleep in his grandfather’s bed to prove that he could or if he would choose another space. As she glanced around she saw that he’d apparently picked a more neutral space-what looked like a simply furnished guest room with a large bed, two nightstands and a dresser. The light from the hall spilled onto a pale carpet. The walls looked either blue or green-she couldn’t tell.
Riley set the champagne on the dresser and unwrapped the foil. Seconds later, he popped the cork and poured them each a glass.
“I’ve never had champagne this fancy,” she said as she took the slender flute he offered and then sipped.
The bubbles bounced off her tongue-the flavor was light, delicious, almost sweet and addictive.
“Do you like it?” he asked when she’d swallowed.
“Very much. Unfortunately, it’s not going to fit in my budget.”
“Save it for special occasions,” he said as he took a sip, then set his glass on the dresser and moved close.
She started to say there was no point-that for the rest of her life whenever she saw the distinctive shape of a bottle of Dom Perignon, she would always think of him. Instead she moved over so she could put her glass on the nightstand, then watched as he stepped close and took her in his arms.
The first time they’d made love, there had been a frantic quality about the joining. She’d wanted with a desperation that hadn’t allowed her to do much more than feel. This time she was able to think as well as experience and she tried to pay attention to every detail so she could relive it later.
She noticed that even as he claimed her mouth in a soft, teasing kiss that promised so much more, he placed one hand on her hip and the other on the back of her neck. He kept the hand on her hip still while he moved the other through her hair. He’d done that before, she thought hazily as he bit down on her lower lip and made her want to squirm against him. He seemed to love touching her hair. He often-
His tongue touched where he’d nipped her and she parted instantly. As he swept inside, her stomach muscles clenched and her breasts began to ache. She rested her hands on his shoulders, enjoying the heat and strength of him.
He explored her mouth, touching, circling, enticing. When he retreated, she followed, wanting to know every part of him. He tasted of champagne, he smelled of ocean and night and desire.
When he shifted his mouth so that he could kiss her jaw, she leaned her head in the opposite direction to give him more room. He nibbled his way down her neck. Her skin puckered, her breasts swelled even as she felt her nipples get hard and sensitive. She wanted to rip off her clothes and have him take her right there. She wanted him to go slowly, so the moment never ended.
Indecision filled her as she clung to him. He sucked on her earlobe, licked the skin on her neck and then made a slow but steady beeline for her breasts.
Without thinking, she dropped her hands from his shoulders so she could unfasten her shirt and let it drop off her shoulders. He bent over her, moving closer and closer, making her work frantically at the hooks on her bra. The last one caught and she nearly broke it in her haste to bare herself before him.
At last the hook gave and she jerked the bra down and tossed it on the floor. But instead of touching her there, he straightened.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said as he stared into her eyes. “You make me want things.”
“Good.”
Although she wasn’t all that interested in talking about them right now. If they were naked things, then doing would be much better than talking.
Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to read her mind. Instead of reaching for her, he picked up his glass of champagne and took a long sip. Then he set the glass down, bent toward her and took her nipple in his mouth.
The combination of his heat, the cool champagne and the bubbles was a sensation she’d never experienced before. She grabbed for his shoulders to keep herself from falling. When his tongue swirled around, moving the bubbles over her sensitized skin, she gasped with pleasure.
He swallowed, then straightened and reached for his glass. “I need to take care of the other breast,” he said with a grin. “It’s important to be fair.”
“You bet,” she told him, already weak with anticipation.
He filled his mouth with the champagne, then caressed her with a tingling, exciting, bubbly caress. She wrapped both arms around his head in a silent plea that he never stop.
When he’d swallowed again, he licked her, then sucked until she felt her bones melt and her body turn to liquid.
He straightened and pulled her close, then kissed her mouth. She couldn’t get enough of him. She couldn’t be near enough, touching enough, feeling enough. There were so many sensations, so many promises between them. She wanted the chance to fulfill each other.
When he reached for the button on her jeans, she reached for his shirt. They managed to unfasten each other, then he shrugged out of his shirt and she stepped out of her jeans. She pulled down her panties while he took care of the rest of his clothes. Then they were both naked and heading for the bed.
He kissed her everywhere. As she lay on her back, he kissed and licked and nibbled his way from her ears to her toes. Sometimes he sipped champagne first and she experienced the erotic combination of hot, cold, smooth and bubbly kisses.
On the return trip, he nibbled her ankle before licking his way up to her knees. He bit down and made her giggle, he sucked and made her squirm. Then he moved higher, to her thigh.
His large hands kneaded her muscles, his thumbs sweeping closer and closer to the heat radiating from between her legs. He watched her as he touched her, his dark eyes bright with desire, his mouth curved up in a smile.
She let her gaze sweep over him, the broadness of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest, the dark hair swirling down his flat belly. He was hard and ready and she ached to have him inside of her…right up until he bent down and she felt his breath on her. She moved her legs farther apart and closed her eyes in anticipation. Then she felt it-the soft brush of his mouth and the long, slow lick of his tongue.
As he moved against her, he slipped a single finger inside of her and gently pushed it in and out.
The combination of sensations made her gasp for breath. She’d been prepared to like what he did but not to fall so hard and so fast. She could barely breathe. Her muscles tensed and she dug her heels into the bed. Good manners insisted that she wait at least a couple of minutes before losing herself in her orgasm, but she wasn’t sure she could hold on that long.
He felt too good. When he stroked her, he seemed to know exactly the right speed. That relentless finger continued to move in and out, teasing, pushing, promising bigger and better things to come.
He circled her most sensitive spot, then caressed it with the flat part of his tongue. He blew on her and made her shiver. He covered her with his lips and gently sucked until she knew her release was as inevitable as the tide they’d watched earlier.
He began to move a little faster. The finger, his tongue. Pressure built and built until she had no choice but to give way. She clutched at the sheets, raised her chin to the ceiling and gasped out her release.
The waves came one on top of the other. He continued to stroke her, to move in and out and she found herself carried along as the pleasure stretched out endlessly.
At last the need slowly died away. He drew back and kissed her thigh, then pushed up to his knees. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“I have another F,” she said lazily. “Fabulous.”
“I like that F.”
“Me, too.”
She patted the mattress and waited until he stretched out next to her before standing and walking to get the bottle of champagne from the dresser.
Riley gave himself over to enjoying the show. From the back Gracie was all swaying hips and graceful curves. From the front-he swore silently-she was a goddess.
Her long blond hair covered enough of her breasts to make him want to see more. Her narrow waist only emphasized the swell of her hips. He liked the fullness of her thighs, the length of her legs and that secret place between them that gave her all the power.
When she returned to the bed, she waved the bottle. “Mind if I ignore the glass?”
“Help yourself.”
She knelt beside him and took a sip of champagne. He had to admit that a beautiful naked woman kneeling next to him, drinking out of the bottle just before they got to the next round was going on his top ten list of erotic moments.
After setting the bottle on the nightstand, she bent down and pressed her mouth against his belly. He groaned as he felt her warm mouth followed by the cool, bubbly sensation of the champagne. Her tongue swirled against his skin.
“I like this,” she murmured.
“Me, too.”
She picked up the bottle and took another small sip. This time she moved lower and he braced himself for what was to come.
But all the preparation in the world couldn’t stop his body from reacting as she knelt between his parted legs, reached down to hold him still and then took him in her mouth.
He forgot to breathe through the sheer pleasure of her lips and tongue caressing him even as the cool champagne tickled and aroused and her long hair brushed his belly and thighs. She swirled her tongue around, then licked the very tip of him.
He swore out loud, grabbed for control and had a feeling his grip could slip at any second.
“Gracie, you can’t.”
She raised her mouth, swallowed the champagne, then tilted her head. “Technically, I can.”
“Okay, yeah. I’m begging you not to.”
She gave a heavy sigh. “Oh, all right. What would you prefer?”
“Me inside of you.”
Her blue eyes widened slightly as she smiled. “I guess. If you insist.”
“I do.”
He reached for the nightstand and pulled open the top drawer. “Want to stay in control or want me to take you?”
She laughed. “I think I’d like to be taken.”
“Consider it done.”
He grabbed a condom and quickly slipped it on. When she stretched out next to him, he turned toward her and gathered her in his arms.
They kissed. She tasted faintly of champagne and mostly of herself. He claimed her, even as he stroked his hands all over her body.
She was sensitive, squirming as he brushed his fingers across her tight nipples. She was wet, moaning as he slipped his fingers between her thighs. She parted instantly and even though he’d thought to make it last longer, he couldn’t help shifting so that he could kneel between her legs and push his way home.
As he plunged inside of her, she tightened around him. Her arms drew him closer. He drove in as deeply as he could, losing himself in the slick heat. He withdrew, then pushed inside again. This time he felt a quickening to the tightness, a tension in her muscles.
He braced himself, then bent down and kissed her mouth even as he began the steady rhythmic thrusting designed to take them both over the edge. She wrapped her legs around his hips and held him in place. Her hands grabbed for his butt and pulled him in deeper.
Faster and faster, pushing, reaching, needing, plunging until he felt her shatter beneath him. She broke the kiss and gasped for air, then screamed his name. As the contractions pulsed through her, he let go, shuddering as his climax claimed him and her body milked every drop of pleasure from him.
LATER, when they were both lying curled up together under the covers, he buried his fingers in her hair and kissed her forehead.
“It’s late,” he said. “Want to sleep here?”
She stirred, lifting her hair from his shoulder and blinking sleepily. “You don’t strike me as the sleepover type.”
“I’m making an exception.”
She put her head back and closed her eyes. “That would be nice. But get me up early so I can head out before your neighbors wake up.”
“I thought you hated morning.”
“I do, but I don’t want to make things worse for you.”
He rubbed his other hand along her bare back. “It’s fine,” he said. “You don’t have to get up early for me.”
“Okay.”
She spoke slowly, as if barely able to stay awake. He squeezed her.
“Go to sleep.”
“Mmm.”
Her breathing slowed.
Riley reached up and turned off the light, then pulled the covers around them both. He stared up at the dark ceiling.
She’d been right. He wasn’t a sleepover kind of guy. Considering all that was happening right now, including the fact that Gracie might be pregnant, he should be running for the hills. Funny how he didn’t want to.
He wanted to stay right where he was-with her.
He continued to stroke her back, then moved higher to play with the ends of her hair. Had he ever spent the night with a woman before? Had he ever let one stay with him? He frowned as he tried to remember, then decided it hadn’t happened since his brief marriage to Pam.
Why now? Why Gracie? He didn’t have any answers. Or maybe he didn’t want to find them.
GRACIE WOKE UP as she usually did, slowly and with a great appreciation for having slept well. She stretched, rolled over and found herself in an unfamiliar bed.
“That can’t be good,” she said as she raised herself into a sitting position and pushed her hair out of her face. She spotted a note on the pillow next to hers and as she reached for it, memories flooded back.
“My mistake. It was better than good,” she said with a smile. “It was amazing.”
Riley sure knew how to make a woman’s toes curl, she thought as she flopped back on the mattress and read the note.
“I had an early meeting and didn’t want to wake you. There’s coffee downstairs. Help yourself. Last night was great. Thanks.”
She rubbed her thumb across the plain white paper, as if by touching it she could touch the man himself.
But there was no warm skin, no sexy scent, nothing but the memory of what they’d done together and it was a poor substitute for the real thing.
She rolled on her side and faced the spot where he’d slept. “Now what?” she asked aloud as she ran her fingers across the mussed sheets. Where did they go from here and what did they do when they got there? Who was this man who knew how to touch her heart and her soul?
Her stomach clenched. For once the tension had nothing to do with acid or even the thought she might be pregnant. Instead, it was all about her growing feelings for Riley.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t fall for him.”
He was her past. He was the root of every humiliation she’d suffered for years. To get involved with him now would be…
She closed her eyes and heard her mother’s voice telling her how everyone was laughing at her. She was the butt of jokes. Gracie winced at the thought. She wasn’t willing to go through that again. Not when-
“Wait a minute.” She sat up and stared at the opposite wall. “This is my life. Not my mother’s. Not anyone else’s. Mine. I decide.”
Okay. That sounded very self-actualized. Now what? If she wasn’t going to live to please faceless strangers or her mother, what was she going to do?
“See it through,” she said firmly. She had no idea what was happening with Riley, what she felt for him or what he felt for her, but she would see it through. If there was something there, she wanted to know. If this was just some twisted trip down memory lane, then she had to know that as well. One way or another, she would figure it all out. Even if she found herself brokenhearted at the end, it beat spending the rest of her life always wondering.
FIFTY-FIVE MINUTES later a freshly showered and dressed Gracie left her house with the intent of stopping by Jill’s office. As of last count there had been eight messages from her friend. She wanted to reassure Jill that she was fine and maybe tell her a little of what had been happening. Since the mayor had announced the details of her private life to the whole town it seemed silly to try to keep secrets from her best friend.
As she turned at the stop sign, she noticed how close she was to her mom’s house. Maybe she should swing by there and get her daily dose of stern talking-to. After that, she would tell her mother that while she loved her and appreciated her advice, she had to make her own choices. Right now she wanted to pursue things with Riley. Maybe it was a mistake, but the mistake was hers to make. If her family couldn’t support that, she would do her best to understand.
“That sounds really powerful,” she told herself as she pulled in front of the familiar two-story house. She had a feeling that actual rejection by her family would be pretty painful. It didn’t seem to matter how badly they treated her, she kept coming back for more.
As she walked up toward the front door, she noticed Vivian’s car parked in the driveway. Oh, joy, Gracie thought. A two for one.
She raised her hand to knock, then saw the door was partially ajar. She pushed it open as she called out, “Hi. It’s me.”
Silence followed her announcement.
“Mom? Vivian?”
She heard a sound from the back of the house and headed in that direction. As she entered the long hallway, she could hear voices.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” her mother said, sounding more than a little angry. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Vivian grumbled.
“I’m upset because this wedding is costing thousands and thousands of dollars.”
Gracie stopped in the middle of the hall. She wasn’t sure if she should announce herself again or simply leave.
“I’m helping with my wedding dress,” Vivian said.
“It’s over three thousand dollars. To date your contribution is all of two hundred. Honey, I want you to be happy and have the wedding of your dreams, but you can’t keep canceling it.”
“I know. It’s just Tom was really mean last night. I don’t think I can be with him.”
“Fine. If you want to cancel the wedding today, we will. But know that it’s over. I’m not doing this anymore. As it is, I’ll be out nearly five thousand dollars, and that’s just for deposits. I don’t have that kind of money. I’ve taken out a mortgage on the house to pay for this. I can put the rest of the money back, but where am I supposed to get the five thousand dollars I’ve just lost? I didn’t mind when it was for your wedding, but I won’t just waste the money because you can’t make up your mind.”
Gracie took a step back. She didn’t want to hear any of this.
Why on earth would her mother take out a home loan to pay for a wedding? That sounded crazy, especially with Vivian not being sure about what she wanted. Between the expensive wedding gown, the country club location and the formal dinner, Gracie would bet the total bill would be well over twenty-five thousand dollars. You could practically put a kid through college for that.
“Mom, no!” Vivian began to cry. “I’m sorry. I know I’m making this hard. I don’t want you to have to lose money and I know the wedding is too expensive. I’ll work harder. I will. And I’ll go talk to Tom. We’ll work it out. Don’t cancel the wedding. Please?”
Her mother sighed. “All right. But no more games. There’s too much at stake.”
Gracie turned and quietly walked out of the house. She didn’t want to intrude on a private moment between mother and daughter and she didn’t agree with what they were doing.
While she understood her mother’s reluctance to give up the deposit money for a wedding that wasn’t happening, she didn’t agree with getting married just to have a wedding. Vivian and Tom seemed to break up every fifteen minutes. That didn’t bode well for their future together.
“Not my rock to carry,” Gracie muttered to herself as she got in her car and drove toward Jill’s. But even as she tried to put the conversation behind her, she felt sad for the sense of being an outsider. The closeness she’d once felt with her mother and her sisters was gone forever, which meant she was well and truly on her own.
RILEY FOUND himself enjoying his day at the bank. After his night with Gracie he could easily ignore the stares and whispers of his employees. Let ’em talk-he knew the truth and in the end, he would win this battle.
Not that Zeke agreed.
“We’re in big trouble,” his campaign manager said as he paced in his office. “I’ll have new numbers by this afternoon, but they’re not going to be good.” Zeke stopped in front of his desk and stared at him. “Everyone loved you for romancing Gracie and they’ll hate you just as much for treating her badly.”
“I’m not.”
“It sure sounds like it.”
Thanks to Yardley. Riley leaned back in his chair. “My personal life…”
“Shit.” Zeke glared at him. “Dammit, Riley, if you had to get an itch scratched couldn’t you have picked some other-”
Riley was out of his chair before the other man finished his sentence. He reached across the desk, grabbed Zeke by the tie and twisted the fabric to tighten it around Zeke’s neck.
“Don’t talk about her that way,” Riley said in a low voice.
Zeke nodded, then pulled back. Riley let him go. Zeke swallowed, then straightened his tie.
“Right. Okay. So we need new numbers.” He glanced at Riley, his expression wary. “Are you going to keep seeing her?”
“Yes.”
“Gracie’s terrific. My sister-in-law. I’ve always liked her. But you know that Yardley’s claim is going to cost you votes. Maybe a few, maybe a lot.”
“We’ll deal with it.”
“Right. Sure. I’ll come up with a new strategy. Let me think on it for the next day or so.” He took a step back from the desk.
Just then Diane knocked on the door as she pushed it open.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to let you know as soon as your father returned. He’s here.”
Riley wasn’t even a little surprised. He nodded. “Let me finish up here.”
Zeke’s eyes widened. “Your dad. That’s cool. Maybe we could use him in the campaign.”
“No.”
“I’m just saying it would make you seem more approachable.”
“No.”
Zeke opened his mouth, then closed it. “All right. I’ll get back to you by end of day tomorrow. By then I’ll have poll numbers and a new strategy.”
“Fine.”
Zeke gathered his folders and ducked out of the room. Seconds later, his father entered.
“Morning, son,” he said cheerfully. “How are you?”
“Great.”
Riley studied the older man. Same suit, he thought. Different shirt. This one a little more worn than the one from the previous day. Riley didn’t know where his father had been or what he wanted the money for. Honest to God, he didn’t care.
“How much,” he said before his father could speak again. “How much do you want.”
The older man smiled. “I’ve been thinking about going into a couple of franchises. They seem to be doing well. Some of those sandwich shops really rake in the money.”
He continued talking, but Riley wasn’t listening. Instead, he studied the man who was his father and searched for resemblances.
The eyes, he supposed. Maybe the dark hair. Did they share a sense of humor? A taste for good Scotch? Obviously they both had no problem walking away from women.
At ten Riley had worshipped his father. The man’s disappearance had cut out his heart and it had taken years to recover. His mother never had. Oh she’d been brave, living her life, smiling, laughing, but there’d been a sadness underneath. As if she’d risked everything she had and then she’d lost it all.
“How much?” Riley asked again, interrupting him.
The old man stopped talking and blinked. “Two hundred thousand?”
Riley opened the top desk drawer and removed the personal checkbook he’d brought in that morning. He wrote the amount without saying a word.
“I appreciate this, son. Your generosity means a lot.”
Riley passed him the check. “Next time, don’t bother coming by. Just send me a letter.”
They looked at each other, then his father nodded. “If that’s what you’d prefer.”
“It is.”
“Don’t you want to know how I found you?”
“No.”
“All right.” The old man looked at the check. “Oh. How’s your mother? Happy?”
Riley wanted to punch him then. Anger swelled inside of him until it threatened to burst out in a destructive wave.
“She’s fine. Thanks for asking.” He stared pointedly at the door. “I have a meeting.”
“Of course. Thanks for the money.”
The man who had been his father for the first ten years of his life walked out. Riley was fairly confident he would never see him again, although there would be a steady stream of letters requesting more money for more failed dreams.
When he was alone again, he pushed the button to ring Diane’s phone.
“Yes?”
“I want to donate the money to the children’s wing of the hospital,” he said. “In my mother’s name.”
There was a brief pause. Riley imagined his unflappable secretary openmouthed in astonishment.
“I’ll call them right away.”
“Good.”
He disconnected the call, then slowly turned in his chair. He still hated his uncle, he thought as he stared at the portrait of the man. He would never give an inch on his desire for revenge. But for the first time Riley understood what it must have been like to be one man who had the money to solve everyone’s problems.
GRACIE TAPPED the cooling pan twice for good luck, gave it a quick twist, then pulled it up in one, quick motion. The cake fell out perfectly.
“Impressive,” Pam said with a sigh. “I can’t even get muffins to pop out of the pan. I end up using a knife and they get all bent and scrunchy on the edges.”
“Practice,” Gracie said with pride as she stared at the bottom layer of an oval cake. “Practice and a little bit of prayer.”
“How many layers will this one be?” Pam asked.
“Five, which means it’s huge and it’s heavy.” She reached for the next cake pan and tapped it.
“How do you keep the layers from sinking into each other?”
“Dowels. I stick them into the cake to provide support.” The cake pan lifted easily. She sighed. “I love it when a plan comes together.”
Pam leaned over the cake and inhaled. “I don’t know what it is you put in your mix, but your cakes always smell so good.”
“Thanks.” Gracie knew Pam wouldn’t mention taste, what with never having eaten a single bite. Gracie wasn’t sure she ate ever. She was unnaturally thin, which was very annoying.
“There are hundreds of flowers,” Pam said, pointing to the carefully stacked trays of fondant roses. “But they’re for the cake you made and iced yesterday, right?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s what comes next. Assembly.” She glanced at the clock. The groom’s father would arrive to pick up the cake in six hours. Eek! “I have to let the cake cool completely or the heat will mess up the icing. That’s the tricky part. Everyone gets married on the weekend, which makes it tough to stagger the work. I can prepare all the decorations in advance. In any case, it’s easy because the cake I’m finishing today doesn’t have any fancy trim or piping. I just have to put on the decorations I’ve already made. I’ll decorate this one tomorrow.”
She carried the cooling racks over to the far counter and lifted the protective box off the three tiered cake she’d frosted the previous day.
“It looks perfect,” Pam said, sounding impressed. “It’s so smooth.”
“Thanks, I-”
Her cell phone rang. Instantly her body went on alert. She’d reached that unfortunate stage where every call was either Riley or not Riley. A quick glance at the display screen told her she didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Gracie Landon?”
“Yes.”
“Hi. My name is Neda Jackson. I freelance for several bridal magazines and I’ve just been given an assignment to do a feature on you. They want me to come up and take pictures of you working, along with several of your cakes. We’ll do an interview, I’ll talk to former clients, that sort of thing. They’re hoping for about a six-to eight-page spread.”
“I…They…” Gracie forced herself to breathe. Six to eight pages in a bridal magazine? “I’m excited.” More than excited. Giddy. Thrilled. Willing to do the happy dance in public.
“Me, too,” Neda said. “Our deadline’s tight. How’s the first part of next week?”
“Great. I’ll have two cakes in progress. Are you in L.A.?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Let me get in touch with a couple of brides and see if you can take pictures this weekend.”
“Perfect.”
Neda gave Gracie her number, then confirmed the time of the meeting. When they hung up, Gracie shrieked as she twirled through the kitchen.
Pam laughed. “I take it that was good news.”
“Better than good. In terms of career highlights, this is a grand-slam home run.”