Saved by the Bride

chapter Eight

The light on the bow of the boat glowed yellow across the dark water and besides the slip of the oars, the only other sound was the haunting wail of the loons. Finn could have used the motorboat to get Annika’s stuff, but he’d chosen to row and to row hard. His body still hummed with her wholesome scent of apples and cinnamon, and her exotic taste of hot and heady need. Did she have any clue how sexy she was when she’d looked at him with those liquid blue eyes and asked, “You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”

It had been nothing short of torture feeling her hands on him and her lips against his, and given he’d known they had to share the cottage there’d been no way he was going to kiss her back. He’d managed to stay strong right up to the moment she’d deepened the kiss. Then her hunger for him had hit like a force-five tornado, totally undoing him and firing up his craving for her to the point he thought he’d either explode or go insane. So he’d kissed her back. It still stunned him how fast and how quickly the kiss had become a catalyst for something so much bigger. Had it been left to him to pull back, he wasn’t sure he could have.

But she’d pulled back and now he was pulling oars. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t have condoms in the cabin but why would he? He’d never brought a woman there. The cabin was his domain and one he didn’t care to share with anyone, not even family. The boat hit the beach with a thud and he sighed. That had just changed. Now he had to spend the night in the cabin with Annika, knowing it wasn’t safe to touch her because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop until he’d buried himself deep in her hot body, and lost himself in oblivion. His body tightened at the thought.

Don’t go there. He jumped out onto the sand as the boat hit the island’s beach and he hauled the boat beyond the water line, before picking up her suitcase, extinguishing the light and headed up the path. Solar lights and a huge moon lit his way and the cabin’s porch light was on but the rest of the place appeared to be in darkness. Had Annika gone to bed?

Bed. He didn’t want to think about Annika in bed. His bed. He’d left her an hour ago with the suggestion she take a shower and he’d set out one of his T-shirts and an old pair of running shorts for her to wear until he returned with her clothes.

The squeak of the screen door sounded overly loud as he stepped inside. He switched on a lamp, expecting Annika to be curled up in one of the old but comfortable club chairs watching the way the moonlight played across the lake. “Hello?”

But there was no reply. Surprised, he made his way to the bedroom. The bedside lamp was on low and Annika lay asleep. Her chestnut lashes brushed her cheek and her hair spread out on the pillow like a white fan edged with gold. She looked peaceful which was hard to believe given how manic they’d both been on the beach. Her huge day must have caught up with her and he imagined losing her home was more stressful than she’d let on. He admired her ability to keep on going against the tide of the economy but he wondered if her staying in Whitetail was the best thing for her.

She’d pulled his Egyptian cotton sheet right up under her chin and the light blanket reached her waist. He could see the hint of deep blue from his Yale T-shirt where the sheet fell from her shoulder, and as his eye followed its curve it stopped short on the rounded edge of a bolster pillow. He moved into the room and saw an uneven line running parallel with her back. Annika had stuffed the bed with pillows, creating a barricade.

He swallowed a chuckle and smiled. Did she really think some feather down and cotton slips were going to stop them from having sex? For the first time since he’d realized he had to share the cabin with her, he felt calm. He kicked off his shoes, shucked his shorts and shirt and slid into bed with a blissful sigh. They would have sex. It wouldn’t be tonight, but it was going to happen and for now that knowledge was enough. He dumped the pillows onto the floor and drifted into a deep sleep.

* * *

Annika woke up slowly. She was loathe to leave behind her dream where she was curled up on a chair on her cottage’s veranda, warm and content, and at peace with the painting on her easel. She knew without a doubt that the painting was good, and that feeling had been gone so long she wanted to stay in the dream and hold on to it with both hands. But the dappled morning light tickled her eyelids and she moved to stretch her arms and legs to greet the day. Her limbs stiffened so fast she risked injury. Her leg lay along the length of another and that leg wasn’t waxed, so it wasn’t hers. All traces of sleep vanished and she realized with horror that instead of her top arm being curved between her breasts it was curved around a waist, and her fingers were caressing a narrow trail of hair that disappeared under an elastic waistband.

Finn. She was wrapped around Finn like gift wrap.

No, no, no. She rolled away so fast she tumbled out of the bed, falling heavily onto the hardwood floor. “Ouch.”

A sleepy businessman rolled into the space she’d just vacated and stared down at her with delicious bedroom eyes. He gave her a long, slow smile. “I see you’re starting the day as you plan to continue.”

She stumbled to her feet, tugging on the edge of the T-shirt he’d lent her, which smelled so much like him and barely covered her bare bottom. Backing out of the room, she walked straight into the doorjamb, adding another bruise to her fast-growing collection. “Coordination comes with coffee.”

“Really?”

She shook her head and gave him a wry smile. “Sadly no. Not even on the days I drink too much.”

He swung two deeply tanned legs out of bed and rose to his feet in an easy, fluid motion. Her eyes immediately dropped to his boxers, which were pushed forward magnificently by his early morning erection.

“Sweetheart, my eyes are up here.”

Her skin burned and her head jerked up to his laughing face. She was totally out of her depth so she went into damage control, which came out snarky. “Where’s my suitcase?”

He ambled toward her and rested his hand on the door frame above her head. “And to think I’ve been accused of being grumpy in the mornings.”

She tried not to breathe in too deeply. “Not just the mornings.”

“Touché.” He stroked her cheek. “I left your bag in the other room.”

His touch sent tingles skittering and turned her mind to mush, but she somehow managed to stammer out, “Thanks.”

He stepped to the side and the teasing softness disappeared and the efficient businessman slotted back into place. “I’ll use the bathroom now and leave you to get yourself organized. You’ll find space in the dresser and wardrobe for your clothes. There’s enough food to make breakfast but we’ll need to shop so make a list of what you like to eat. I know you’re meeting with the brides this morning but I need you to format some documents first. Can you be ready to leave at seven-thirty?”

“Absolutely.” Glad to be firmly back in her role as his P.A., which was a lot less confusing than the rest of her life, she fled into the main room.

She’d explored the cabin last night while Finn was retrieving her stuff—not that she’d needed a compass or a map. Unlike Kylemore with its many large and generous rooms, this cottage was a very simple rectangle. One third of the space was taken up by the bedroom and a small bathroom with a tub, which had such an amazing view of the woods that it was like bathing outside. The rest of the cabin was open living space which included the kitchen, an eating nook and a sitting area. A large stone fireplace with a hand-hewn pine mantel dominated one side of the room and on the other was a huge double-glazed window, providing an enormous view of the lake. White ash paneling gave the space light and warmth and the obligatory game and fishing photos graced the walls. She especially liked the one of young Finn holding aloft a big musky and standing next to a man who looked like an older version of Sean.

The living space extended to the outside where a large veranda with a herringbone log rail ran around the four sides, almost doubling the livable area. There was a glider seat, numerous Adirondack chairs and a barbeque. Annika had instantly fallen in love with the cabin and had she been able to live here alone it would have been the most perfect accommodation.

But it came with Finn. Finn who had her so flustered she could hardly think straight and she knew she couldn’t walk straight.

Now that I know you can’t keep your hands off me, there’ll definitely be a next time.

His words from last night boomed loud in her head. Only a fool would complicate her life even more than it already was right now. Sex with Finn might be what her body wanted more than oxygen but it had disaster tattooed on it with indelible ink. During the day she was safe but she knew she’d cave if she had to spend another night in Finn’s bed. She needed to take steps to keep herself out of harm’s way. During the day that was tricky because she worked for him but the moment the brides’ meeting was over she was hotfooting it to the camping store and buying a sleeping bag and an air mattress so she could sleep alone. Her body would just have to deal with it.

* * *

Annika pushed open the plain side door of the warehouse, which led directly to what was once the office, and immediately noticed that the Reggies sign had been taken down. Nicole and Melissa were going to have to do a lot more than that to wow brides. As she stepped into the foyer, she stopped short. Gone was the reception desk and office equipment that had once sat in front of a feature wall with the Reggies logo. The wall now had white tulle cascading from a fixed point—tumbling down the partition like a waterfall, before flowing around the edges of the room, and winding around the base of three familiar wooden pedestals which held huge vases of white peonies, stocks and calla lilies. Their scent filled the air with the promise of magic. Comfy chairs circled a low table, which completed the space, making it the antithesis of the previous dull but functional area. Now it was an enchanted room that spoke of bridal dreams and assured a wedding full of romance.

Annika stared, not quite able to get her head around the change, and behind her the door slammed shut.

Nicole looked up from displaying magazines on the table. “So what do you think, Anni?”

“I...I think it looks incredible. No one would expect to walk into this when they open the utilitarian outside door.”

Nicole beamed. “I know, right? It’s taken Melissa and me days but I think it says exactly what you suggested. That we’re serious about our brides.”

“Where did you get all this stuff?”

“The reverend lent us the pedestals, the chairs are from Mrs. Norell, and Emily did the flowers.” She paused and her expression suddenly dropped from excitement to concern tinged with sympathy. “I heard about the Hoffmans, Anni. You know you could have spent a few nights with Max and me.” She flinched slightly and added, “We’d have enjoyed having someone else in the house.”

The sad look on her face was the very reason Annika hadn’t asked. Nicole’s house echoed with her grief for her husband who’d died serving his country so very far away in Afghanistan. “If it had been for a few nights, of course I would have asked but the Hoffmans are here for the entire summer. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve got a room at the Callahans’.” She didn’t elaborate on the fact it wasn’t in the safety of the main house or that she’d woken up draped over Finn like a second skin.

A flash of heat tore through her at the memory. She quickly blew out a breath and refocused, ignoring the quizzical look from Nicole. “Since I don’t have a car, staying out there means I’m not imposing on anyone in town and it means I’m closer to the office for the early starts Finn insists on.” She sent an apology into the ether because so far Finn as an employer had been more than reasonable.

“I guess being P.A. to a high-flying businessman is a lot of hours. But are you sure you’re okay staying so far out of town?”

She wasn’t sure about anything to do with Finn Callahan but she nodded just the same.

Nicole got back to business. “We know you’re really busy but could you paint the door to look more bridal? You know, to hint at what’s in here?”

Annika hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in months but this sort of art she could do. “Sure, I’d love to. I can paint golden hearts entwined on a white background which would really set the scene.”

Nicole’s brows drew down. “Actually, we’re thinking more on the lines of Main Street with the flower baskets in full bloom and a happy couple in the horse-drawn carriage. That way the brides can picture one of the unique things we offer the moment they walk through the door.”

An unusual jab of irritation prickled all the way through her. Nicole, along with everyone else in Whitetail, usually agreed with her suggestions so the fact that she was rejecting Annika’s idea was completely unexpected. Annika wasn’t certain she liked the feeling at all but she reminded herself that Nicole had taken on board her suggestions of making the offices more bride-friendly so she agreed to painting the streetscape. “I can use a photo from Jennifer’s wedding.”

Nicole turned on her notebook computer. “Thanks. To help you juggle the jobs, I’ve sent the schedule to your email with all the appointment times.”

She blinked. Appointments? “You mean there’s more than just today?”

Nicole laughed. “We’ve got the two brides today and then another one wants to come on Friday if she can get her fiancé to take the day off work.”

While Annika was trying to get her head around that bit of news, Melissa rushed in breathless and carrying three enormous white dress bags.

“Look what’s just arrived in time. Sample dresses.” She sank onto the chairs, almost smothered by the bags and bubbling with excitement. “I spoke to one of the brides the other morning about what she was looking for. When I hung up the phone I thought what if she could try a dress on? Then she’d feel like a bride and that feeling might just extend to her choosing Whitetail.”

“That’s a great idea, Melissa.” Nicole squeezed her on the shoulder and then turned to Annika. “Anni, put your invitation folder down on the table next to my brochure on hair and makeup.” Her phone buzzed with a text message. “Oh, the brides have just left Hanson’s corner. How long do you think it takes a horse and carriage to get here?”

Annika was having trouble keeping up. “Why are they coming by horse and carriage?”

Nicole beamed. “We’re giving them the full experience of what Whitetail can offer so we’ve combined the horse and carriage ride with a tour of wedding service venues. They’re riding down Main Street then past the churches, the gazebo in the park and Mrs. Norell’s garden. Just like you said, warehouses don’t exactly say ‘bridal’ from the outside, but coming up through the grove of trees on a sunny day will soften it all. Plus, Al gave them both a glass of champagne when he assisted them into the carriage.”

Annika sat down hard on the chair Melissa had just vacated, stunned and impressed at how comprehensively they’d thought things through. Dazed, she arranged her sample invitations, fanning them out on the table.

Nicole chewed her thumb. “Of course they might not decide to get married here but at least we’ve done a dry run and we’ll be all set for Bridey Callahan. Has she shown any interest yet?”

Annika told the truth. “I haven’t really seen her to talk to her about it.”

Melissa turned from hanging the dresses up on a portable rack next to a screen. “But you will, right?”

Annika didn’t want to encourage something she thought was only going to lead to a dead end, especially when her focus was on the bigger picture, but she didn’t want to rain on their parade, especially after all the effort they’d put in. “If the opportunity presents itself, I’ll say something. But please—”

“They’re here!” Melissa cut her off with a shout and raced to the kitchen to get the coffee tray.

“Okay, girls, let’s do our best!” Nicole smoothed down her dress and opened the door.

Within a quarter of an hour, Melissa had both brides wearing a bridal gown. As the two brides-to-be sat and each talked about their vision for their ideal wedding, Nicole, Melissa and Annika listened carefully and offered up suggestions. Annika outlined her thoughts for the invitations and save-the-date cards, tailoring her ideas to suit one bride’s desire for a vintage wedding theme and the other bride’s more modern style.

“What about the thank-you cards? Can you supply them on the same stationery with our initials entwined?” Jessie, the bride who wanted the vintage theme, fingered the most expensive paper in the portfolio.

Annika had never done that before as most Whitetail brides bought some pretty cards at the drugstore. “If you wanted me to, then I could certainly do that. You might want to consider having me calligraphy your initials into a monogram and use that on your invitations too.”

“That’s such an awesome idea. Oh, could you do napkins?”

Annika glanced at Nicole who was nodding furiously. She guessed she’d worry about the logistics of printing later. “Sure. If that’s what you’d like. You might also want to consider having some extra cards printed with the monogram for use in the future.” Annika heard the entrepreneurial words pour out of her mouth and for a moment wondered who was talking. “What’s your fiancé’s name?”

“Daniel Roberts.”

“Are you keeping your name?”

Jessica shook her head. “No. All my life I’ve had to spell out my surname so I’m grabbing Roberts with both hands and holding fast.”

Annika smiled. “One idea for the monogram would be to combine the J of Jessica with the D from Daniel and tie it all together with the R for Roberts.”

Jessica’s eyes misted over. “I love it!”

Now on a roll, Annika continued. “As you’re going with a vintage theme, then I’d suggest ivory or wedding white and triple crown quality paper.”

For the first time, the bride hesitated. “It’s going to be a big wedding so I’m not sure I can afford every single invitation to be handwritten.”

Annika knew about budgets. “There are processes that print from an original handwritten invitation and avoid the cost of an engraving plate.”

“But then my invitations are just like everyone else’s.”

Annika countered gently, “No, they’re not. For example, I could use thermography to raise the monogram and make it any color that you like. Gold on ivory would be stunning. You could also consider wax or gold filigree seals on the envelopes.”

Ashley, the other bride, sipped her champagne. “Do you calligraphy the envelopes?”

Annika’s hand cramped at the thought. “I’m sorry, I don’t do that because of time and it would seriously add to your cost.”

Ashley pouted. “Oh, but I’d want everything to match.”

“I can use a calligraphy computer font and print your envelopes so it looks more like they’re handwritten.” She dug into the back of the portfolio and found her envelope from Jennifer’s wedding, which was the first time she’d ever used a fancy computer font. “Like this.”

“That’s gorgeous.” Ashley picked up the heavy and tissue-lined envelope. “Feel the weight. It says ‘special occasion’ before you even open it.”

An hour and a half later, Whitetail—Weddings That WOW had just taken two bookings with the first wedding in midautumn, and Annika had orders for not just two weddings but urgent save-the-date cards for Ashley that needed to be sent out by the end of the week.

Suddenly she had more calligraphy work than she’d ever had in one time frame. An edge of panic scuttled through her. She’d only ever done handwritten invitations for small weddings, and now she had two big weddings. Jessica’s invitations would need a thermography machine and she’d have to go to Duluth for that, which would take a full day. How was she going to balance that against being Finn’s P.A as well as working on her business hunt for Whitetail?

There’s also that painting to finish.

And sex with Finn.

But neither of those two things belonged on her ever-increasing to-do list.

* * *

Finn hung up his phone, ending a long conference call with Hank and the German engineer. They were close to testing the new machine and hopefully Jazz Juice boxes would be back in production by Monday. All week he’d been listening to clients vent and then reassuring them that the impact on them was minor. Some of the old-timers wanted Sean but he’d got around that and, fingers crossed, no one would walk. He couldn’t lose an account—not on his watch. Not when companies were folding around him. The business world was full of stories of big-brand companies considered part of the fabric of American society and now they were closing their doors.

One generation to lose. He would not be that one.

He quickly checked his messages but miraculously there were none. His stomach gurgled and he looked at the clock. With a jolt, he realized it was one o’clock and Annika still wasn’t back from her meeting.

The office had seemed almost dead without her constant activity and as shallow as it made him, he cheerfully admitted to having missed watching the way her rainbow skirt moved across her tight behind and outlined her legs when she bent down. Not to mention the occasional glimpse of a brightly colored bra when she leaned forward. He had plans to see a lot more than a glimpse of that bra. He picked up his phone to call her, only to put it straight down again. Damn, she didn’t have a functioning phone service.

You don’t have any work for her so it’s not like you really need to talk to her.

Who was he kidding? Work or no work, he just wanted to be able to pick up the phone and hear her smart mouth and sexy voice.

He thought of how he’d woken up to the luxurious feel of her smooth, long legs wrapped around his and he smiled. Annika had turned into an amazing surprise package in his summer from hell. A saving grace in fact. They could have a lot of fun together and he planned to make sure they did, starting with getting naked as soon as possible.

Decision made, he quickly put in a call and express-ordered a smartphone, and then rose to his feet. He’d go into town and have lunch with her there. He picked up the sports car’s keyless remote and suddenly pictured the scene on Main Street—a circle of curious people admiring the car. Some things in life needed to be done inconspicuously. He dropped the remote back into the small bowl and ran downstairs where he grabbed a cap off the hat stand and a large key from the rack. He’d travel into Whitetail the way his grandfather always had—by boat—and he’d halve the traveling time.

Finn had recently had his grandfather’s classic wooden powerboat restored but he hadn’t yet taken it out for a big run. He loved being in the boat and a zip of anticipation shot through him at the thought of the wind whipping his body as the hull sliced smoothly through the water. As he cut across the lawn, he heard his name being called and turned to see Sean walking toward him holding a fishing pole in one hand and a tackle box in the other.

“How are things, Finnegan?”

His father never used the contracted version of his name and when Finn had been a teenager, he’d hated that. Ironically, now they worked together, the more formal use of his name epitomized their relationship perfectly. “Testing for number four starts tomorrow afternoon at the latest and I’ve got everything else under control.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Finn examined Sean’s words, unsure if they were a compliment or a criticism.

His father smiled and held up the tackle box. “Logan and I are going fishing with strict instructions from Dana to catch supper. Why don’t you come with us?”

The invitation almost shocked him to silence as it was wrong on so many levels—the first one being that Sean was going fishing. He couldn’t remember his father having ever done that before. Finn might have wanted to fish with him at ten but by fifteen and after constant disappointments, he’d accepted that fishing was yet another thing he did with Grandpa. Now the thought of sitting on the dock or in a boat with Sean and his little half brother came as close to his idea of purgatory as it got. “No, thanks. I’m working.”

Sean’s keen gaze took in his boat shoes, knee-length shorts, polo shirt, cap, sunglasses and the boat’s distinctive wooden carved key ring that he held in his hand. “You don’t look too busy to fish.”

He was thirty-three years old and long past being grilled as if he was a thirteen-year-old. Especially by a man who hadn’t been around much when he’d actually been that age. “I’m collecting Annika.”

Surprise flashed across Sean’s face. “I thought she’d taken the truck.”

How the hell did he know that? He didn’t want anyone in the family noticing what Annika was doing because that would lead straight back to him. It was time to throw out a red herring. “Dad, if your days have become so dull that you’re reduced to finding interest in who took what vehicle, then perhaps you need to come back to work.”

Sean’s brows rose but he spoke mildly. “That would mean you giving up your opportunity to run AKP and I can’t imagine that’s what you want. For now I’ll stick to fishing and car watching.”

Logan ran up clutching a small cooler. “I’ve got the bait and drinks, Dad.”

“Good man.” Sean slung his arm around his younger son’s shoulder and spoke to Finn. “If you change your mind on the fishing, Logan and I will be over by the point.”

Yep, not gonna happen. Finn watched them walk along the path toward their destination. At least Logan was benefitting from Sean’s midlife crisis or whatever the hell it was and he was getting to spend time with his father. The weight of the heavy key in Finn’s hand reminded him of where he was headed and he spun on his heels. He’d taken two steps when the sound of Sean’s mellow chuckle at something Logan must have said hit him like a short, sharp slap.

His breath caught. What the hell? He hated the feeling that filled him, taking him back to when he was twelve. Damn it, but he was an adult and he’d got over not going fishing with Sean years ago. Yet, despite knowing that, the stinging feeling lingered and he wanted it gone.

The need to move, to do something, propelled him forward and he ran hard and fast down to the dock. He untied the rope, jumped into the boat and, gunning the engine, he roared out of the small cove, daring the wind to tear every single feeling out of him.