Best Laid Plans (Dearly Beloved) Read Online Free

have eight o’clock reservations.” Nick exited the car before she could reply, slamming the door shut.
    Claire flopped into the space he’d just vacated and hissed out an exasperated sigh. “Your father makes me crazy.”
    Laurel laughed, going so far as to clap her hands together in delight. “Oh, Claire. Me, too.” She caught her breath and settled back against the rich leather seat. “I don’t think I could get through this wedding without you. I’m so glad you convinced Dad to sign an exclusive contract.”
    She almost choked. “I…You’re father told you that?” Laurel beamed and Claire couldn’t say anything to burst the girl’s bubble of happiness. Instead, she patted Laurel’s arm. “After the Japanese fiasco, I was terrified of what he’d dream up next to ruin things for you.”
    Laurel beamed again. “I’m so glad you have my back!”
    Yeah, she had Laurel’s back, but who had hers?

Chapter 4
    Walking through the restaurant, Nick’s palm felt warm and comforting where it rested on the small of her back. Even so, Claire’s nerves sent tingles all the way to her fingers and toes. First, he’d picked her up in his very expensive European sports car. Alone. Then he’d put the top down for the drive to Bella Italy. And now, they were being seated in what had to be the most romantic spot in the whole restaurant—a secluded booth complete with candles and a view out the window of the fountains and garden.
    She’d expected to find Laurel waiting at the restaurant but the girl was conspicuously absent—not to mention only two place settings graced the table.
    “Laurel—”
    “Had a last-minute change in plans.”
    Claire noticed his smirk—did a man like Nick smirk? Distracted by that thought, she started to sit on the side with the worst view but he guided her to the other side. “Force of habit,” she murmured.
    He settled on the bench across from her. “Oh?”
    “When I’m working with bridal parties, I always make sure my client has the good seat that includes the one with the best view.”
    “I think I have the best view.”
    Heat flushed her face and she wished she had a menu to fan herself with. A bus boy appeared and filled their glasses with ice water. She waited until he moved away before she said, “If I didn’t know better, Mr. Grant, I might think you’re flirting with me.”
    “Then you would think correctly.”
    Claire had picked up her glass and was swallowing—or attempting to. The cold liquid did not cooperate and she sputtered. She managed to gulp what liquid was left in her mouth so it didn’t dribble down her chin as she gaped at him.
    Nick looked amused and waited until she was breathing normally before he spoke. “Why does that surprise you?”
    “Why wouldn’t it? Technically, you are my employer. And…uhm…”
    He leaned back and watched her, arms folded across his chest. “I can see the wheels turning. And what, Claire?”
    “I’m not exactly your type.”
    The waiter appeared and before she could ask about menus, Nick ordered an antipasto plate for two, entrees, and Caesar salads, along with a selection of wines. When the waiter disappeared, he focused on her. “And how is it that you know what my type is?”
    She glowered, or hoped that’s what her expression conveyed. “See? That’s something else. You aren’t my type.”
    “You want a man who is a doormat?”
    “Well…no.” She held up a finger to silence him when he opened his mouth to continue. “But a man doesn’t have to be the extreme opposite.”
    “And that would be?”
    “A chest-thumping alpha male.”
    “I don’t thump my chest.”
    “Metaphorically speaking. And stop looking so amused. You know, I am perfectly capable of reading a menu and deciding what I would like to eat for dinner.”
    “Is Italian one of your many accomplishments?”
    “Don’t change the subject.”
    “I’m not. The menu is in Italian. Pardon me for presuming you couldn’t read it.”