She spotted the stain and knelt. The club soda fizzled as she poured, diluting the red wine and bringing it to the surface of the expensive Aubusson carpet. She blotted and repeated the procedure.
“You simply must tell me how you managed to find a caterer of this caliber at the last minute,” a familiar voice said, stopping Renee mid-blot.
Flynn’s mother was here. Renee grimaced. Dislike curdled in her stomach, overshadowing the compliment. Facing the witch would kill the buzz of a successful night.
“Carol, you know I never divulge my secrets,” Gretchen replied.
The women paused on the opposite side of the piano just inside the open doors. The only parts of them Renee could see from her position were their thousand-dollar shoes and legs below the hems of their cocktail dresses. That meant they couldn’t see her, either.
“I must hire him for my next event. The food and presentation were absolutely superb,” Carol continued.
Pride filled Renee’s chest. The menu she and Gretchen had chosen had turned out exquisitely, if she did say so herself.
“I’ll pass on your compliments,” Gretchen replied.
“You might as well stop playing games. You know I’ll find out who you used. I have my ways.” Carol’s tone sounded more threatening than teasing.
“You are extremely well-connected, and if my caterer wishes to make your acquaintance, I’ll give her your contact information and let her get in touch.”
Renee debated staying hidden while she blotted up the last of the spill, but skulking behind furniture to avoid unpleasant people wasn’t her way. Not anymore. Seven years ago it would have been—a fact Carol Maddox had used to her advantage.
On the other hand, Renee owed Gretchen her loyalty for taking a chance on her, but building her business would be impossible if she didn’t get her name out.
The expensive heels moved in her direction, taking the decision out of her hands. She would not be on her knees in front of her mother-in-law. She rose. “Good evening, Carol.”
Her mother-in-law’s shocked eyes fixed on Renee like laser beams. Despite Carol’s chemically paralyzed face, her distaste couldn’t be clearer. She took in Renee’s crisp white chef’s uniform and her lip actually twitched in a sneer. “Hired help now, are you?”
Renee bit the inside of her lip on the waspish comment that came to mind. She wouldn’t stoop to Carol’s level. “Yes. I’m the help you’re so desperate to identify. I catered the party tonight. Thank you for your compliments.”
She reached into her pocket and withdrew a newly printed business card and offered it to her mother-in-law.
Carol lifted her chin, turned on her heel and stalked away—without the card.
“Why does her rudeness not surprise me?” Renee asked rhetorically.
“She is a witch,” Gretchen confirmed. “But she’s an influential one. Getting on her bad side isn’t a good idea.”
“I’ve been on Carol’s hate list since the day Flynn brought me home to meet the family eight and a half years ago.”
Gretchen made a sympathetic moue. “The only reason I’m not on the same list is because my family could buy and sell her ten times over, and since I now control all that lovely money…” She shrugged and glanced over her shoulder. “Let me share a little something I learned from being an abused wife. People can only make you feel inferior if you let them.”
Renee identified the paraphrased quote. “Eleanor Roosevelt.”
“Yes. I’ve learned to hold my head high—especially when the sharks are circling in the water. And make no mistake about it, Carol Maddox is a shark. If she smells blood in the water, she will attack from your weakest side, and she won’t be particularly concerned about collateral damage.”
A frisson raced over Renee, but Gretchen wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
But she wasn’t going to let Carol’s snobbery dampen her good mood. Instead, Renee planned to focus on her successes and her future with Flynn.
“You exceeded my expectations for tonight, Renee. I enjoyed working with you, and you literally saved my event, and because of that I raised a lot of cash for the shelter. Leave as many business cards as you brought with you. I’ll see that they end up in the right hands.” With a nod, Gretchen returned to her guests.
Renee smiled. Apart from her mother-in-law, life was just about perfect right now, and Renee wasn’t going to let anything or anyone ruin it for her this time, not even Carol Maddox.
Renee stuffed the party leftovers in the refrigerator and closed the door.
Bedtime.
It was just after one in the morning and she should be exhausted, but she was still too keyed up to sleep.
She couldn’t help feeling a teensy bit deflated. She wanted to share her excitement with Flynn, but the lights had been off upstairs when she’d pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes ago, which meant Flynn was probably asleep. But mostly, she’d wanted to thank him for making tonight happen with his calls to Gretchen and the employment agency.
She crossed to the laundry room, stripped off her uniform and dropped it into the washer. Rolling her tense shoulders, she returned to the kitchen and jerked to a stop. Flynn waited with one hip parked against the counter. He wore nothing but his boxers.
She took in his gorgeous physique and her mouth watered. “Did I wake you?”
His eyes raked her nak*dness. “Trust me, even if you had, the view is well worth the trip downstairs. I was waiting for you. I wanted to hear about your night.”
She grinned. “The event went well. I have leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“Maybe later. I have other plans for you.”
The glint in his eyes made her heart trip. “Care to elaborate?”
“Come upstairs and find out.” He extended his hand.
Desire coiled inside her belly as she laid her palm across his. Flynn jerked her close. Their bodies slapped together. He pressed a quick hard kiss on her lips and then drew back. Looking her up and down, hunger evident in his eyes and in the bulge rising in his briefs, he shook his head as if denying himself and then led her upstairs.
“Flynn, thank you for tonight,” she said as she climbed. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t called Gretchen.”
“You’re welcome.”
When she reached the landing she heard water running. In the bedroom she smelled her favorite bath salts. And then in the bathroom, she spotted the steaming claw-foot tub.
Flynn’s hands landed on her shoulders. He pulled her back flush against his front. “Just as I expected. Your muscles are knotted. Nights on the town always jazzed you up before. I thought you might need to unwind. Remember how we used to end most party nights in here?”
The memories of sexy shared baths combined with his teeth grazing the curve of her shoulder made her shiver. “Yes. Does that mean you’re going to join me?”
She felt his smile against her neck. “Not this time. You soak and give me a replay of the night. I’ll play masseur and enjoy the view.”
She tested the water and then climbed into the tub. Flynn lathered his hands and then sat on a vanity stool he’d placed behind her head. He gently dug his thumbs into her tense neck muscles, rubbing out the kinks until she sighed.
“That feels wonderful.”
“Relax.” He pressed a kiss on her ear and kneaded her shoulders. “I hope tonight is just the beginning of a new successful venture, but if it takes a while to get CGC off the ground, that’s okay. There’s nothing we can’t handle if you level with me.”
She knew he still wondered why she’d run seven years ago. She’d caught him watching her with a question in his eyes several times. She yearned to confess. But she said nothing. Flynn hated weakness as much as she did. He’d once claimed he’d stand by her, and he would because he was an honorable guy. But he’d lose respect for her if he learned the truth. She couldn’t bear watching his love die again. The first time had nearly destroyed her.
Eleven
F lynn caught himself sketching on his blotter again Monday afternoon—this time a miniature version of the Victorian complete with a lookout tower turret—a fort/playhouse for his and Renee’s children.
Children. He didn’t even know if she was pregnant yet and he was already thinking in multiples. He found her confident, ambitious persona far sexier than her younger, eager-to-please version had been.
He raked a hand over his jaw and tried to refocus on the columns of numbers in front of him, but Madd Comm’s rivalry with Golden Gate Promotions couldn’t hold his attention.
Since Renee’s return he’d had a hard time maintaining his interest in the Maddox bottom line. His mind flicked back to Friday night. When he’d heard Renee’s van enter the driveway after Gretchen’s party, he hadn’t been able to wait for her to come upstairs. He’d wanted to share her enthusiasm—or her disappointment. The bath he’d run for her had ended with a hot make-out session followed by leftover hors d’oeuvres eaten in bed while she told him about the event.
The fire of excitement in her eyes while she’d talked had reminded him of the woman he’d fallen in love with so long ago and of what he’d stripped from her the first time around. Asking her to live without a creative outlet was the same as asking her to live without air. He knew that now. No wonder she’d left him.
Like him, Renee needed to feel pride in her accomplishments. By making her a homebody, he’d limited her outlets.
His door burst open and his brother stormed in. “Have you seen this?”
Brock held a newspaper opened to the society, aka gossip, page.
“I don’t read that crap. I’m surprised you do.”
“Shelby brought it to my attention. You might reconsider reading it since you, your wife and Maddox Communications are mentioned.”
Flynn’s senses went on red alert. “Judging by your tone, I take it the article isn’t a positive recap of Renee’s Friday-night catering job.”
“Far from it.”
Flynn took the paper and skimmed the page looking for what had sent Brock into orbit.
Ad Agency’s Top Gun Shoots Blanks?
The headline hit him like a sucker punch. He gritted his teeth and read on.
What’s a thirty-something woman to do when her biological clock starts ticking and she can’t find suitable daddy material? Renee Landers Maddox, wife of Flynn Maddox, VP of Maddox Communications, reportedly took matters into her own hands recently and visited a local sperm bank. Rumor has it she petitioned for a deposit made by her estranged husband, but that deposit was destroyed. Now she and hubby claim to be reconciling. Meanwhile she has launched a branch of her catering business in L.A. out of his Pacific Heights basement.
Is this a case of home-is-where-the-heart-is or just a form of direct deposit? If Maddox’s VP is faking his marriage, what else is he faking? Stay tuned. But I wouldn’t suggest hiring California Girl’s Catering with a party date of nine months from now, since Mr. and Mrs. Maddox have already purchased nursery furniture.