being afraid of how I make you feel, you wouldn't happen to be afraid of flying, would you?"
My entire body stiffened. "I'm not afraid of anything."
"Okay, so you're afraid of flying." He shrugged. "Why?"
"I'm not afraid," I insisted. "It's just that flying is for birds, angels and drug users."
"I'd never let anything happen to you. If I thought for a second that it was dangerous, I wouldn't let you step foot inside a plane. They're safer than cars, honey."
"I'd still prefer to drive."
"No, I'm going to prove to you just how safe planes really are."
Asshole.
"Before I forget," he said, "here are the names and addresses of the party guests, as you requested." He handed me a stack of papers.
Fifty to two hundred guests turned out to be 375.
"Do you really want to fly this many people to another state?" I held up the list as if it were exhibit A. "You need to rethink this trip."
"No, I don't, and yes, I will fly that many people to another state if I want," he said, silencing my protest. "I don't want to hear anything else about it. I'll pick you up at six and you'll be ready just like a good little girl. I've already programmed this into your BlueJay."
Scowling, I stuffed the stupid list in my briefcase. "My fee increases every time I get on an airplane. Did I forget to mention that fact?"
"Yes, you did." A lazy, crooked smile slanted his lips. "But it's not a problem."
"Do you ever have a problem?" I grumbled.
"Actually, yes. Failure to comply with my orders is a major problem."
Typical of a Triple C.
I shook my head in exasperation and lifted a large book from my case. I wanted to change the subject before I really did throw up. "I have a book of sample invitations for you to go over." As I spoke, I flipped through the tract, revealing page after page of invitations. "As you can see, there are many colors and fonts to pick from, as well as designs."
He groaned. "Can't you pick something? I know nothing about fonts and colors and designs unless they come with propellers or a jet engine."
I liked, really liked, damn it, that this gorgeous, put-together man so easily admitted he lacked knowledge about something.
My ex-may he soon discover tiny worms have invaded his body and are slowly eating him alive-once told me God made men so perfect because He'd wanted to make up for the inadequacies of women.
Richard the Bastard had said this the day after our divorce had been finalized, and I'd fallen on my knees in thanks that I'd gotten out of that living hell when I had. I'm pretty sure my real dad said something similar to my mom. Many times. While cheating on her. Sometimes I wasn't sure what was worse. Richard's cheating, or my dad's. To both men, family had meant nothing.
"What if I make the wrong choices, Royce? Linda is your mother. I don't know her, therefore I don't know her tastes."
"I trust you." He held up his hands, palms out. "I'll love your choices, I swear."
"But will Linda? I mean-"
"Naomi," he said, beseeching.
I sighed. "All right."
One of his eyebrows quirked in the middle and his grin returned. "All right what? Let me hear the words."
"All right. I'll do it." I uttered another sigh. Giving in did not mean I'd reverted to former doormat behavior. I was simply doing something nice for my (sexy) client. "We need to firm up the theme. Jewelry box is first on the list."
"What else is on the list?"
"Something elegant. Something nostalgic."
"Nostalgic." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Like what?"
"What if we recaptured her youth with an 1800s setting?"
"That'd be great, except she grew up a hundred years after that."
"Whatever. I could do the Care Bear party she never had as a child." If Mrs. Powell had ever been a child, that is. She might have sprung fully formed from the devil's thigh. "I could do something romantic like Arabian Nights, with veils and magic lamps. I could do a jungle theme, even, with animal prints and drums."
"I like the Arabian Nights thing," he said. "And yes, I'm man enough to say that."
He was all man. "Will your mother like it, though?"
"She'll love it. That's the one. It has my approval."
My heart gave a strange little leap. Already I pictured the scene in my mind, loving the bold colors, the bed of satin floor pillows-with Royce lounging on them, eating grapes