Page 13 of Some Kinda Romance

I made a note of what he’d said and pushed the menus back to him. “You’ll see that all of those are included, so just take a look, would you?”

Eyes on mine, he placed the tips of his fingers on the papers and pulled them closer. Then he glanced down and snorted almost immediately. “These sides are too pedestrian. Creamed spinach? Roast potatoes? Those are great for a Sunday lunch with your family but certainly not for a wedding like this.”

I sighed. “You just said your chefs recommend classic cuisine. Both of those things are as classic as it gets, and it’s not like they’re slopped onto your plate like they used to be at your grandmother’s house.”

His brow furrowed. “At my grandmother’s house, nothing was ever slopped onto a plate, but those options are still unacceptable. What else have you got?”

“That’s it,” I said. “I’m printing out all our options.”

Turning to my computer, I clicked on a few folders, focusing on weddings where the chef had prepared formal courses, and printed out page after page of just about every side he’d ever made. Dash seemed mostly unimpressed, but he must’ve found a few things that would be acceptable because he made neat, tiny crosses next to a few items and handed the papers back to me.

While he was busy with that, I took another look at the options for canapes, appetizers, and desserts, and then I realized we were going to be here a while. After what felt like hours—and several calls to his chef—we finally decided on a menu that he was happy with and moved on.

“Okay,” I said, relieved that at least that was done. “Next on the agenda, we need to go over all the options we have for other areas. We’ll need to decide on a color-scheme, lighting, mus⁠—”

“You’re the star,” he said, interrupting me. “I’m sure you can handle all that.”

Taken aback, I shook my head at him. “You’re right. I am, but this is about your mother, not me. How about we think about what she might want.”

For the first time since I’d met him, it seemed I’d said something that hit home for him. He took the papers I’d offered, but we stared at each other for a few charged seconds before he finally nodded. “All I know for sure is that she doesn’t want any white flowers. Not one. She seemed to like the idea you had about the yellow, but let me take all this to her and I’ll get back to you about specifics.”

“Do it, but two months is a short time to plan such a grand wedding. Make sure you get back to me sooner rather than later.”

As he looked defiantly back at me, sexual tension sparked between us. It had been there since he’d walked in, but it was practically buzzing in the air now, charging it so intensely that my nipples peaked under my bra. Thank God, it’s padded.

“Let me show you some swatches of fabric we’ve got,” I said abruptly. “That way, you’ll be able to guide her on the colors as they are and not as they’re described.”

He nodded, pushing to his feet without saying anything, and we walked to the conference table where I’d laid out the swatches while I’d been preparing for the meeting. I’d been hoping this would distract me, but it turned out to have the complete opposite effect.

Instead of being across the desk, he was now right next to me. As we looked over the different fabrics, we kept accidentally brushing against each other. Our sudden close proximity did not do me any favors, and despite him being so incredibly rude, I found myself wondering what my hands would feel like on his chest.

By the time he left, hardly even saying goodbye, my body felt like it was on high alert and my nerves were tightly strung.

Julie strode into my office once he was gone, smiling as she sat down. “How did it go? Was he any better today?”

“No,” I said immediately, glad to have the opportunity to vent. “He’s insufferable. I swear, he’s the rudest, most inconsiderate, snobbiest snob of all the snobs. He’s mean, and dismissive, and he clearly doesn’t think I can do my job.”

“Are you sure it’s not just the boy thing?” she asked after thinking it over for a minute.

I frowned. “What boy thing?”

“You know. That thing they do on the playground when they like someone,” she said. “The ponytail tugging and being annoying. I’d have thought we were too old for that, but it sounds like he’s doing the grownup version of the same thing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scoffed, but deep down inside, I had to wonder if she was onto something.

The chemistry in the air had been palpable earlier, and sure, I could’ve been imagining that it was mutual, but maybe I hadn’t been. Maybe he was as attracted to me as I was to him. Maybe he couldn’t deny it either.

Ahh, shit. Is Julie right? Is it possible there really is something there?