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“Hello, Tula,” Andrew said.
“Is something wrong?” Her face creased with a frown.
“No problem. I’m just here to see”—Clara stepped out of a room—“her.” He pointed to Clara.
“Oh, I see.” Tula and Clara passed some sort of look between them.
He wondered what that was about but decided to let it go without comment. “Clara, do you have a moment?”
Tula spoke up. “We’re finished. She’s all yours.”
If only…
Clara sent him a brilliant smile, like one of those she used to share with him when they were together. His heart careened into his ribs as his pulse raced. His gaze dipped to her rosy lips. A pang of longing shot through him like a hot arrow. He couldn’t believe it only took a smile to get a reaction out of him.
He quickly shoved away the unwanted emotions. That wasn’t his reason for being there. Besides, if she caught a glimpse of the roadmap of scars tattooed all over his body, she’d head for the closest door. And he wouldn’t blame her. He felt like Frankenstein’s monster.
Clara stopped next to him, still wearing that smile, but now he noticed how it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What can I do for you, Mr. Cross?”
Really? She was going to stand on formality after all they’d once meant to each other? That stung more than he’d been expecting. “I need to discuss the bachelor party arrangements with you.”
“No problem. I have a few things to clarify with you, too.”
Tula wore a smug smile. “Clara, call me when you have information on the table settings.”
“I will.”
Once Tula departed, Clara turned back to him. The smile was gone, as though it’d never been there in the first place. “Now, Mr. Cross—”
“Clara, it’s just us now. Enough with the mister stuff. And besides, Tula knows about us—”
“She does?” Clara’s eyes darkened. “How could you?”
“How do you think you got this job?” He pressed his lips together to stop the flow of words, but it was too late. He’d uttered far more than he’d ever intended to say. He inwardly groaned.
“You did all of this?” The light went out in her eyes. “And now you’re here to take credit?”
Now he had to do his best to extract his size twelve shoe from his mouth. “That didn’t come out how I intended.”
“How dare you!” Clara glanced around to make sure no one overheard her outburst. When she appeared confident that she hadn’t been overheard, she turned back to him. “I don’t need your charity. I’m doing fine on my own.”
“Clara, I’m sorry. That came out all wrong.”
“It sounded quite clear to me.” She fidgeted with her heart pendant. “If it wasn’t for you, Tula Fox wouldn’t have hired me.”
He sighed as he raked his fingers through his hair. “Don’t tell me you’re going to quit over this.”
A long awkward pause ensued. “I should. I don’t need you easing your guilty conscience over our breakup by bringing me work.”
“Come on, Clara. I said I was sorry. And if you weren’t up to the task, trust me, nothing I could have said would have made any difference to Tula. You earned your right to plan this wedding. Now please tell me you’re not going quit.”
She pressed her hands to her hips and leveled her shoulders. “You obviously don’t know me if you think I’d back out of an obligation, not to mention the contract I have with Tula.”
He breathed easier. “I just thought that, what with… Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we got that straightened out. We’re good, aren’t we?”
She arched a fine eyebrow and stared at him, making it abundantly clear that nothing was straightened out. “Just so you understand, we have a working relationship. That’s it. So it doesn’t matter whether we’re good or not. As long as you can be professional, so can I.”
It might not matter to her if they patched up their relationship, but it did to him. When he left San Francisco, he wanted the reassurance that she no longer hated him. He held out his hand to her. “I’m willing to be professional. Let’s shake on it.”
