Page 47 of Love in Bloom

As they walked across the room, Wren saw more than a few raised eyebrows and leers. Even Rica had looked surprised when they’d passed her group. Miller ordered a glass of red wine for her, but she changed the order to a Shirley Temple. Her heels were difficult enough to walk in without the added challenge of alcohol, plus she would need all her wits about her tonight. It was a fine line between embarrassing Miller and ruining his career. Not to mention minimizing the negative impact on her business.

Wren adjusted the strap of her dress again as they approached the Swansons. Diane and Michelle wore traditional, conservative black dresses. The dresses were almost identical except Michelle’s was a trendier, shorter length. Diane had accessorized with pearls, but Michelle had an array of colorful bracelets on her arm.

“Wren,” Diane greeted through a tight smile. “What a pleasant surprise!” Diane’s tight smile didn’t reach her eyes, and she sounded anything but pleased. Wren nodded and said hello. “You must be cold in that dress, poor thing.” Diane tsked.

“I’m fine, but thank you for your concern.” Wren smiled tightly and turned to Michelle. “Your bracelets are incredible. Are they from a local artist?” Wren couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching them. Diane laughed, and Michelle took a hearty sip from her highball, light on the ice.

“Oh, that’s just Michelle’s little hobby,” Diane said. Wren didn’t join in the laughter.

“You’re very talented,” Wren said.

“Thank you.” Michelle smiled warmly at her. Diane broke up their group by announcing it was time for dinner.

They made their way to the seating chart and found they were at separate tables. Diane apologized for the oversight. Miller and Michelle sat at a table with clients, and Wren was on the opposite side of the room. She carefully seated herself between Rica and a middle-aged man.

Dinner started out well, and Wren was grateful she sat near Rica. They exchanged news and commiserated with each other on Emily’s first choice for bridesmaids’ dresses. Neither of them looked good in orange, and they hatched a plan to change Emily’s mind.

Wren introduced herself to the gentleman seated on her other side. “Greg Ball,” he said with a big smile as he handed her his business card. The name was familiar to Wren, but she couldn’t place it.

He was charming and attentive, but Wren saw the telltale tan line from where his wedding ring usually sat. More than once she’d caught him talking to her chest instead of her face. “Are you here alone this evening?” he asked, draping an arm over the back of her chair. Wren inched closer to Rica.

“No, I’m here with one of the associates, Miller Lynch.” Wren wiped her mouth with her napkin and was careful to cover her lap with it when she was done.

“Miller, nice kid. He and my boy, Eric, grew up together.” Wren didn’t think Miller would take too kindly to being referred to as a kid. She scooted her chair closer to Rica and his arm dropped from the chair’s back.

“That’s why your name is so familiar.” Wren was pleased to have solved the puzzle. “You’re my landlord! I’ve been meaning to talk you about my lease. It’s month-to-month now, but I’d like it to be annual.”

“I don’t like to discuss business at social functions,” he said and placed a hand on her bare thigh, “unless it’s business and pleasure.” He winked. Wren took his hand and planted it on top of the table.

“Good to know. I’ll call and make an appointment for next week.” She returned the wink, hoping it would soften the blow. His attentions were about as welcome as an outhouse breeze.

“In the meantime, how about a dance?” the older man asked. The band had just started a classic swing tune as the servers began to clear the tables. A few AAS staff members were out on the floor, including Miller and Michelle who were struggling with the rhythm.

“You must be very successful, if you’re this relentless in business, too.”

“I am, very.” He stood and extended his hand. “Looks like your date is occupied.”

“I’ll wait.” Wren knew it was rude to ignore a dance invitation, but she didn’t want to encourage him. She turned her attention back to Rica.

“I don’t get what your problem is, lady,” Greg complained. He finished his drink and slammed the highball glass on the table. “Diane said you’d be great company.” Miller arrived at their table before Wren responded.

“Greg,” Miller said as he shook the older man’s hand.

“Dance?” she asked, interrupting Miller before he and Greg could start a conversation.

“It would be my pleasure,” Miller said. He guided her out to the dance floor. Wren adjusted her dress as she walked.

Just as he’d promised earlier in the week, Miller found them a dark spot on the dance floor and let Wren lean on him. They stayed that way for several slow-tempo songs. Wren leaned in, but Miller maintained a stiff posture. She looked up at him and faked a yawn behind her hand. “I’m fading fast. I should go home.”

“All right, let’s get our coats and go.”

“No. This is a big night for AAS and for you. You need to stay and mingle.” She patted his solid chest.

“Wren, if you’re this tired, I’m taking you home.”

She looked up at him and felt the tears building. “Miller, stay. I don’t want you to be mad at me about leaving, too.”

“What do you mean ‘too’?”

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