Okay, the sex had been amazing, and she liked him. Or thought she did. She really didn’t know him beyond the four or so times she’d met him and the inane texts they’d shared over the past few weeks. So why would she feel slightly miffed that he wanted to keep her at arm’s length? That was what she wanted. Right?
“Yeah, you’re right. It just happened fast. I’m not usually one for hopping right into bed with a guy. I require at least three dates and a nice bottle of wine.”
Joseph gave her another hard kiss. “You didn’t hop into bed. You hopped into the shower.”
“You know what I mean,” she said.
He headed toward the bedroom door just as the doorbell rang. “You better get dressed. Though I have to say you look fantastic with messy hair and no clothes.”
Tennyson stood and let the blanket drop again. “Think I can answer the door this way?”
“Seriously, woman, you’re killing me. Put on some clothes already before I’m forced to detain you and search your gorgeous body for another hour or two,” he said, giving her another wolfish grin before opening the door. “I’ll let your planner inside before I go.”
“Guess I better put on some clothes and some lipstick. My mom will be here soon, too. She’s southern, which means lipstick is as essential as a good pair of pearls, a nice set of stationery, and a framed picture of Elvis Presley.”
Joseph started shutting the door, but before it closed, he called back, “We’re going to have some fun this summer, Tennyson.”
A whole summer? It might take that long to get the hot cop out of her system. He was awfully good in bed, if not a brilliant conversationalist. But really, who needed someone clattering off facts, details, and observations all the time? There was value in solitude, in a man knowing he didn’t need to fill the air with aimless or even relevant conversation. Sometimes she appreciated a respite. She felt like Joseph was the kind of guy to give her room to breathe, time to sink into herself, and an opportunity to not worry about anything other than just being. He was also good at taking her breath away, so there was that.
She rose and padded into the bathroom, taking a left into her large walk-in closet. She rifled through the lingerie drawer, pulling on a lacy thong and matching bra that would remind her of hot sex with Joseph. She probably needed to shower, but she could smell him on her skin and wasn’t ready to let go of that. She found a simple A-line cotton dress, grabbed a pair of thong sandals, and wound her hair up into a messy bun. A quick dash of powder, mascara for her lashes, and a swipe of Dior lipstick called Insolent, and she was out the door.
And then back for a slight misting of Baccarat Rouge 540.
Because she wanted the smell of Joseph to be hers alone.
When she entered the living room, Marc was sitting on her sofa, balancing a cup of tea on the knee of his natty trousers, and Hot Cop was sitting opposite him, reading Town & Country. His still being there surprised her, but then she realized he hadn’t wanted to leave her there alone with another man while she was getting dressed. Something about that made her feel warm and gooey.
Joseph looked up. “This purse costs five grand.”
A smile flirted around Marc’s lips. “It’s a Fendi.”
“It’s a vacation,” Joseph said, shutting the magazine. “Well, I’m out. Great having lunch with you, Tennyson.”
Marc waggled his eyebrows. “Nothing better than a good lunch.”
Joseph shot Marc a sharp look before walking into the kitchen to grab the keys he’d set on her kitchen island. Marc watched him go.
“Nice,” Marc murmured, turning back to her and setting the teacup on the glass coffee table.
“Thank you,” she said in a low voice as Joseph retraced his steps toward the front door. He tossed her one last hungry glance before disappearing. The click of the door made her long to run to it, fling it open, and get one more taste of Officer Rhett.
But she had work to do.
“Well, I see you’ve had your fun. Now it’s time to put our noses to the grindstone, my dear,” Marc said, uncrossing his legs and rising. “First, I want to inspect the gardens to see if we need to bring in any last-minute greenery. I have ten lighted trees ready to line the pool. The gondola will be delivered in three hours, and we need to make sure it is absolutely stable. Cesar is a temperamental artist, but the best operatic tenor in the South. And since his booking is a huge favor from his agent to me, we can’t have him falling into your pool. Tents will be erected as soon as we get the trees and gondola secured. A pair of peacocks will be wandering the grounds as you requested, but I do think we should have guests sign a waiver when they arrive. Never know with peacocks. Oh, and I’ve arranged with the bartender to have the signature cocktails handed out at the door.”
“You found a valet company?”
“Done. The gilded chargers, table linens, five hundred lemons, and miles of lace and tapestry are all in the crates that have been delivered. My team will arrive in the morning bright and early for setup. You’ve approved fabrics and arrangements, so don’t worry. I promise you all is well.”
Tennyson sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “Good. Let’s head out back and go over everything, including table placements. I’ll have my attorney send the waivers because Lord knows I don’t want anyone to sue me over a peacock attack. Do peacocks normally attack people?”
Marc shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. We’re renting the pair from a family in Texas. Maybe they can tell me.”
She and Marc walked out back and toured the new gardens. The roses brought in were in full bloom and, though recently planted, looked as if they’d been there for years. The newly constructed retaining wall made the backyard look less unplanned and more tailored. A team had cleaned the pool and fountain, and the new patio furniture looked sleek and inviting.
“The three-piece ensemble will be just inside your house, playing while guests arrive.” Marc pointed toward olive tree topiaries decorated with kumquats and lemons that flanked her French doors. “I have torches and lanterns to light the path from the driveway, and a lovely flowered trellis will welcome guests at the entrance. It’s all very natural, very chic, and very expensive.”
Tennyson tried to envision what the shower would look like, but since Marc was vehemently opposed to Pinterest (her favorite!) she couldn’t quite catch on to his vision. So she’d have to trust that what she was paying him would net her the shower of her dreams.
Emma’s shower. She had to remind herself.
Okay, sure. She hated that she never had a bridal shower. Or a traditional wedding. She and Stephen were married by a justice of the peace when she was a whopping nine months pregnant with Andrew. She’d married her third husband, Robert, in Hawaii with only his business partners as witnesses, and the ill-fated, short-lived mistake in the middle of the two had taken place in Italy surrounded by number two’s leeches, ahem, family. So she’d never had a rehearsal dinner, wedding shower, or her father to walk her down the aisle. In fact, her family hadn’t been to a single one of her weddings. So she knew she was living her own dreams through this shower. That was why everything had to be perfect.
“The Murano glass ornaments are all wrapped and ready to be given to guests. Where are we putting those?” Tennyson asked.