Page 4 of The Rented Bride

Chapter Two

With the party scheduled for seven thirty tomorrow evening, Cassie wasted no time in diving in. After an hour of reviewing invoices, Meg insisted Cassie change from her more professional attire to jeans and a t-shirt. Six o’clock tomorrow was soon enough to worry about dressing properly. Today was about getting down and dirty. Once she’d been shown her room, Cassie changed, then headed back to Meg’s office. She quickly found herself lost in a maze of hallways and rooms. Twice, she stopped to press a palm to the stone or to stroke a tapestry. She felt as if she’d gone back in time hundreds of years. She could spend a month in this place and probably still not learn every nook and cranny.

Cassie grimaced. If she wasn’t careful, that’s what was going to happen. Where the heck was she? She turned a corner and blew out a breath. She recognized the small table with a vase of roses up ahead. She hurried forward. If she took the next left—Cassie took the hallway to the left and nearly cried out upon recognizing Meg’s office two doors down.

She spent the next three hours reviewing invoices and the menu created by Gallagher Events.

“Trent asked for seafood. I specifically remember him requesting lobster.” Meg flipped through invoices then spun to face her computer. She typed a few keystrokes, then studied the monitor. “But I’m not seeing that Teri placed an order with anyone.” She spun to face Cassie. “Can you handle getting lobster? Ace is expected to oversee the cooking, but he understands you’re handling the arrangements.”

Cassie nodded. “You bet.”

“Good,” she said on a sigh. “I have the number for the supplier we usually use.”

That would be Cassie’s first call. Followed by the floral designer, the orchestra, party supply for table clothes and linen. Vail was a small, elite community with limited resources. But Denver was close enough to accommodate even the most obscure request.

An hour later, Cassie had spoken to Mr. Calhoun at Calhoun Seafood who promised her lobsters by early afternoon. Cassie also confirmed with the orchestra, then went a step further and hired a bagpiper to play during the cake cutting and birthday song.

The morning trickled away and the afternoon progressed when she made her way back to the kitchen. Ace, the sous chef, and three other chefs chopped, mixed and cooked in preparation for tomorrow as delivery men carted in supplies and food. Finally, the seafood arrived.

While the Calhoun Seafood deliveryman waited, Cassie grabbed a small paring knife from the chef’s station and slit open the first of the dozen boxes of fresh frozen lobster tails he’d brought. She set the knife on the chef’s station, yanked the first flap free of the remaining tape, then the second flap, and stared down at the lobster tails. She picked one up and didn’t have to turn it over to know they weren’t the Maine lobster tails she’d ordered.

She looked at the deliveryman. “These aren’t what I ordered.”

He shrugged. “I’m just the delivery man.”

He was right. “Do Calhoun deliverymen put the fish they deliver in the walk-in?” she asked.

“I’ll put it anywhere you like,” he said.

She pointed right, to the walk-in refrigerator toward the back of the kitchen. “Back there, the sea bass, please.”

He approached the boxes of sea bass set in two stacks of five, picked up two boxes and walked past her. Cassie watched his progress for a few seconds. He could easily have carried three or four of the boxes instead of two.

She dug into her back jeans’ pocket for her phone, then caught sight of another man standing in the delivery entrance doorway. A rip in his jeans revealed steely muscle above the right knee and his white tennis shoes looked as if they were hand-me -downs from Methuselah. But the working man’s clothes didn’t distract from the hint of stubble on his jaw, which gave him a slightly dangerous look, and the intense dark eyes that focused on her. The man was gorgeous. She thought of Terri Gallagher and grimaced inwardly. Brettonwood was clearly a place filled with temptation.

Cassie tapped the phone screen and hit speed dial number twelve for Calhoun Seafood. Bless Meg for putting all the vendors on her cell. The phone rang and she shifted the mouthpiece away from her mouth and said to the deliveryman, “Could you please help get this fish into the walk-in?”

He lifted a brow and pointed at himself. “Me?”

The receptionist’s voice at Calhoun came over the line. “Calhoun Seafood.”

You, Cassie mouthed to the guy, then said into the phone, “May I speak with Mr. Calhoun, please?”

“Mr. Calhoun is in a meeting,” the girl said. “Can I take a message?”

Cassie began pacing, the frozen lobster tail still in hand. “Please tell him this is Cassandra Adams.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Adams, but Mr. Calhoun is unavailable. Can I take a message and have him return your call?”

She reached the edge of the nearest stainless steel work station and set the lobster on the table. “He assured me he would be available for me at any time. I’m handling the party for Mr. Weston.”

“As I said, he’s in a meeting,” the receptionist said.

“Get him on the phone because, if I have to, I’ll drive the hundred miles into Denver to dump these lobster tails on his desk. If you think I’m upset now, wait until I have to waste half a day because you wouldn’t put my phone call through.”

“Hold on,” the receptionist replied in a crisp voice, and Cassie turned as soft music began playing on the line.

The deliveryman stood at the boxes of lobster tails and was bending to grab the open box.