He couldn't understand why that upset her. After all, she'd always been ready to do what was best for him be fore. This was just another of his demands.
"You're flaky, just like your family," he'd said. "No one will ever be able to take you seriously."
That was the last time she'd seen Alan. He'd laughed when she'd told him to leave, but he'd stopped laughing when she'd refused to let him through the door again.
That had been three years ago. She'd heard he was run ning for the state senate in the fall. Maybe he'd found a suitable wife by now.
She looked out at her restaurant again. Cinnamon- colored banquettes lined the room. Linen tablecloths in burnt orange and waitresses in chocolate brown and rus set set the background for countless climbing, trailing and spiraling green plants that seemed to have as much vitality as the diners.
She frowned. Too many plants?
No, she decided swiftly. Unlike the way she felt about her apartment, her sense of style for her restaurant was sure and steady. No changes at the moment. This was perfect, just what the clientele wanted. She knew what she was doing, and people took her seriously these days. Alan would be surprised.
Turning with a happy sigh, she went toward her office. Yes, she was satisfied. She had her own restaurant. She was a respected member of the community. She belonged to the chamber of commerce, even if she never made it to the meetings. And now she even had a husband.
A husband!
Just the thought gave her a surge of panic. A husband. Good grief, what had she done?
There was a huge stack of papers on her desk, papers waiting for her signature or approval. But she couldn't be bothered right now. She was too excited.
She had a hus band. There was actually someone waiting at home for her right now. Before she knew what she was doing, she giggled. Immediately she clapped a hand over her mouth and sank into the chair behind the desk.
Ross had stayed for an hour or so the day before. They'd ironed out some of the details, Charity chattering, avoid ing his gaze, Ross quiet, watchful. She'd given him a key, and he'd promised to move in this very afternoon.
"Why don't you let me handle the new decorating scheme," he'd suggested just before leaving. "You won't have the time, and I know a few people who might be helpful."
She'd shrugged, too overwhelmed by what she was get ting into to care much about the decor. She had men tioned a figure she wanted to stay within but had otherwise given him carte blanche. Then he'd left and she'd turned to Mason, her eyes wide and wild.