Page 20 of Love Me Carefully
“Yes ma’am, the basic invitation will be ivory, the rose on the front will be in peach and when you open it, the writing will be in black. You can go to the back of the book to pick out the script that you like. You’ll also get R.S.V.P. cards in ivory and peach, which will match the invitation, and gold seals to close the outer envelope.” She spoke knowledgeably in a sultry voice.
Transfixed by her every movement, Terrell stood watching her interact with his mother. Stopping frequently, but patiently, she answered Rosie’s questions and gave advice. The sound of her voice moved through him as smooth and warm as fine wine.
He took a step toward them, so mesmerized he forgot about the weak floorboard that had gotten him into trouble as a teenager when he used to sneak in the house after curfew. The squeak caught the attention of both ladies, and they raised their heads to spy the culprit.
His gaze met hers and held.
“Hello, Terrell. You remember Leah, don’t you?” Rosie spoke first.
“We met last night.” Moving slowly, deliberately, he stepped completely into the living room. “Hello, Leah.”
“Hi, Terrell,” Leah replied cautiously. He looked fresh, showered and casually groomed. She’d tried to convince herself that whatever she’d felt for him last night was a fluke, but that fluttering in her stomach was back. The physical attraction was obvious, yet today, in this quiet room as he watched her with elusive eyes, she felt something else.
“We were just picking out invitations. Would you like to join us?” Rosie was hopeful that her son would want to participate. Not that she needed his input. She could handle the decision by herself. She just wanted him to be a part of her very special day despite his recent letdown in the love department. His shaking head dashed those hopes.
“Nah, I’m about to head home.” With learned restraint, he tore his gaze from the younger woman. Again, he felt a pull towards her and tried to ignore it. She was a lovely temptation, though.
“Oh?” Sliding the book from her lap to the coffee table, Rosie stood and walked over to her son. “I was hoping you would at least stay for dinner.” Reaching out, she took his hand.
Her voice was familiar, soothing, and he instantly felt guilty. He really didn’t have to rush off. He’d already called his friend, left a message vaguely describing what he needed. His cell phone was always available for a return call. He looked down into his mother’s warm eyes and expectant face. “I’d love to have dinner with you. How about Ruth’s Chris? That’s still your favorite, right?”
Rosie beamed. “It sure is.”
Terrell had already decided he wouldn’t let on to his doubts about Donald, not until he had concrete evidence to make an informed decision. So for right now, he’d simply keep his doubts to himself.
Rosie was still smiling. “I’ll go and make the reservation. You sit and keep Leah company until I get back.” Turning towards the sofa she told Leah, “Excuse me, baby, I’ll just be a minute.”
Moved by the obvious affection between mother and son, Leah said, “It’s okay. We can go over this stuff tomorrow or you can call my office to make an appointment.” She felt like she was intruding on a private moment between mother and son. Her relationship with her own mother was nothing like this.
“Well, okay,” Rosie reluctantly agreed. “Terrell, help her with her stuff,” she directed before shuffling out of the room.
The last thing Leah wanted was to be alone with him again, yet that was exactly where she found herself. She sensed the moment he closed in on her and tensed. “I can do it myself,” she said in a strained voice.
“I’ll help you,” he replied, despite her resistance.
She tried to move faster, keeping her back to him. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.” But her clumsy fingers contradicted her, and she dropped the invitation book. With a sigh of frustration, she bent down to pick it up.
Terrell bent down with her and they both grabbed the book. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
“Because I don’t need your help,” she snapped.
He made her antsy. She wasn’t sure why and was afraid to take the time to figure it out. All she knew for sure was that she was in a semi-relationship with Leon that she needed to figure out quickly and now this man, who was so unlike what she was normally attracted to, had stormed into her life, giving her butterfingers. She was definitely not used to the loss of control of her own feelings, and didn’t like the implications one bit.
Terrell saw her struggle and decided to give her some space. He let go of the book, stood up and backed away, watching as she set the book to the side and pulled together her other items. He could have walked her to the door then, could have bid her a pleasant afternoon and gone on about his business, but that would’ve been too much like right. Instead, he slipped one hand into the front pocket of his jeans and stared at her. “So how well do you know Donald?”
Leah blinked in confusion, not really sure why he was asking her about Donald. “Not all that well. Why do you ask?” She looked around, making sure she hadn’t left anything. The last thing she wanted was to have to come back here. She made a mental note to make all her future appointments with Ms. Rosie at her office.
Terrell shrugged. “I’m just curious. How can you plan a wedding for two people and not know if they should be together or not?”
She heard him talking, was oh so aware that he was still in the room with her, and felt a slight panic that she couldn’t find her keys. She quickly spotted them in the side opening of her purse and returned her attention to the last book, attempting again to put it into her bag. He grew quiet, and she knew that he was waiting for an answer. She spared him a glance. “It’s not really my job to judge if they should be together or not. I simply give them the wedding that they want.” He looked really good in jeans, almost as good as she remembered him looking last night in slacks and a sweater. His angular face was void of any emotion, though, his eyes hooded behind glasses that were slipping down his nose.
“So if they end up divorced within a year it doesn’t bother you one way or the other, as long as you get paid?”
His raised brow and barely masked look of distaste bothered her. “My job is to plan weddings, Terrell. That’s it. I’m not a matchmaker, nor am I a fortune teller. I can’t predict what will happen after the wedding day and I don’t try to.”
Her curls were looser today, hanging further down her back than they had last night. She wore a long, straight dress that delectably hugged her curves.
“I believe that people should make sure they’re well suited for each other before jumping into marriage, don’t you?” Was she getting angry? Her chin squared and her fingers tightened on the book in her hand as she continued to struggle.
