The Hand-Picked Bride. Raye Morgan

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Three

      Grant took in the banquet room at a glance. Decorated for a baby shower, pink and blue teddy bears floated down from the ceiling and fluffy white swans cruised down the center of the long table. He nodded approvingly.

      “You did a great job putting this together,” he told the tall, elegant woman standing beside him.

      “Thank you, boss,” Michelle answered gravely, her green eyes and carefully coiffed auburn hair advertising her Irish heritage. “We aim to please.”

      He laughed. “You aim to take over the world, and we all know it,” he teased her. “I keep thinking I’ll walk in here some morning and find out you now hold the papers on the place.”

      Her smile was pleased, but she demurred. “You know I wouldn’t do that without consulting you first,” she teased back.

      His answering grin faded as his thoughts took in their past together. “You’re a good friend, Michelle. You know I never would have made a success of this place without you,” he told her solemnly. “Without you and Tony giving me moral support when our dad died, I never would have taken this on. I wouldn’t have had the guts.”

      She smiled and patted his arm. “Don’t exaggerate, darling,” she told him in a motherly tone. “You always had more guts than all the rest of us put together.” She shook her head when he looked about to speak and turned to another topic. “By the way,” she mentioned casually. “How is your brother these days?”

      “Tony?” Grant gave a quick thought to his once irascible older sibling. “Tony, as usual, could use a life.”

      Michelle flashed a smile in his direction, but she didn’t pause as she counted out the change for the cash register. “Couldn’t we all?” she murmured.

      He leaned against the counter, watching her with a thoughtful frown. “No, I really mean it about Tony. You and me, Michelle, we’re not the marrying kind. We’ve been there and done that and learned to avoid it. We know how to have our fun without entanglements and commitments. But Tony...” He grimaced. “Well, he’s got the kid and all and it’s making him nutty. He’s like a mother hen these days.” His frown deepened as he remembered his brother coming to the door in an apron with huge red apples painted all over it the last time he’d appeared unannounced at his door. “Damn it all, he needs a wife.”

      Michelle nodded as she filled a bin with nickels, putting them in neat stacks. “Is there anyone on the horizon right now?” she asked him.

      Grant shook his head. “Naw. He doesn’t even date. His whole life is wrapped up in his daughter, Allison. Ever since Mary died...” He glanced at Michelle, aware that he was treading on dangerous ground when criticizing his brother’s response to his wife’s death two years before. “Well, for the first year or so, you could understand it. I mean, Mary was wonderful and I think, if he hadn’t had Allison to take care of, he might have died, too. You know? His life just seemed to come to a stop.”

      Michelle’s green eyes clouded. “Yes,” she said softly. “I remember.”

      Grant nodded. “But now it’s time to move on. He needs a new woman in his life. That would turn things around, get him back in gear. If only I could find him someone...” His eyes brightened. “You know, I saw this girl the other day...” His voice trailed off as he thought of her.

      Michelle looked up curiously. “What girl?”

      “Hmm?” He met her gaze and realized he’d left her hanging. “Oh, this girl at the Farmers’ Market. I tried to hire her as a pastry chef but she turned me down.” He nodded slowly, thinking hard and coming to a decision. “You know, now that I think about it, she’d be perfect for Tony.”

      “Who? This girl at the Farmers’ Market?”

      “Why didn’t I realize this before?” He grew more excited about the idea as more details came to him. “She’s cuter than heck and she can cook and she’s got a kid, too.”

      “Grant...”

      He threw out his arms, amazed at how obligingly accommodating life could be. “I mean, how perfect can you get? They could have one of those...what do you call them? Blended families.”

      Michelle laughed, looking as though she was tempted to give his dark hair an affectionate ruffle. Luckily she held back the impulse, but her tone was teasing. “Whoa there, pardner. Don’t you think you’re getting the cart before the horse? They haven’t even met yet and you’ve got them knitting booties together.”

      He gazed at her earnestly. “What do you think, Michelle? What would happen if I tried a little matchmaking? Come on, you know Tony almost as well as I do. What do you think?”

      Michelle hesitated, shaking her head as she studied his face. “I knew Tony once,” she admitted softly. “But ever since he came back from college with Mary on his arm...”

      “Oh, come on. That was years ago.”

      She raised a wise eyebrow. “Exactly my point.”