Chances Are

Chances Are by Erica Spindler Page B

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Authors: Erica Spindler
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strands between his fingers; his eyes searched her face as he did. With her wild hair and flushed cheeks, she looked as if they'd just made love. His lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Leave it," he murmured, dropping his hand.
    For a moment she'd thought he was going to kiss her. Her fingers flexed on the wheel as she swallowed her disappointment. Dammit, she'd wanted him to. She still did. She wasn't comfortable with the want and was unsettled by the disappointment. He opened the car door for her, and she stepped out. Taking a deep breath, she smiled convincingly and took his hand. Together they crossed the shell lot toward the building.
    There was a wreath made of dried wildflowers and ribbon on the flawlessly finished cypress door. Brandon rang the bell. The door was opened by a woman in a crisp white apron and cap. "Good afternoon." Brandon handed the woman his card. "Mimi is expecting us."
    The woman nodded and ushered them into the front parlor. While she got them settled and asked if they would like some refreshment, Veronique looked around. The room was large, with glistening wood floors and fourteen foot ceilings. It was furnished with pieces from the same era as the house, carrying through the atmosphere of faded grandeur.
    Veronique had been in this room only once before. Her mother had been determined she have a sweet sixteen party and a gown to go with it. Veronique had been determined there would be neither. The afternoon had ended with her mother angry and embarrassed and Veronique in tears. Her expression clouded. She'd won the battle—there'd been no party. But she'd never forgiven herself for humiliating her mother in front of her peers, and she'd never again crossed the line between independence and willfulness.
    "What's wrong?" Brandon asked softly. She suddenly looked so sad. He reached out and cupped her cheek. Her skin was as soft as a Georgia peach, as flawless as silk.
    Veronique unconsciously tipped her head into the caress. "I made a scene here once...." Her voice trailed off, and she willed away the unhappy memory. There was nothing to be gained by reliving the past. "I was just thinking how bratty sixteen-year-old girls can be," she finished, her lips curving into a wistful smile.
    Brandon was glad to see the shadows disappear from her eyes. He dropped his hand. "When I was sixteen I thought they were pretty great."
    "I'll bet you did," Veronique murmured as Mimi swept into the room. She was a tall, striking woman, with the dramatic coloring and aristocratic features of her Creole ancestors.
    "Mr. Rhodes, I'm Mimi Latour." The woman held out an elegant hand. "Welcome to Uptown Finery."
    "It's a pleasure." Brandon grasped her hand. "My mother has spoken very highly of you."
    "Of course." The woman turned toward Veronique; her eyes swept over her. "How may I be of service?"
    Veronique decided that she'd been right as a child—follow the leader wasn't much fun. She looked up at Brandon, batted her eyelashes coquettishly and said, "We need a gown for our engagement party."
    Brandon put his arm around Veronique and pulled her into his side. "Now, darling, you know it's actually an engagement announcement party."
    "Yes." Veronique placed her palm lovingly on his chest. "We're engaged to be engaged. I want the whole world to know."
    "But it's a secret," Brandon added quickly, looking at the older woman. "No one knows, not even our families."
    Veronique had to hand it to him, he was quick on his feet. Three generations of Latour women had built this business on as many clandestine affairs as legitimate ones. Mimi, like her mother and grandmother before her, could be—and would be—as discreet as the grave. Veronique stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, whispering as she did, "You're a crafty one, aren't you?" Brandon's answering smile said more than words could.
    "Ah..." The woman's eyes moved speculatively from Brandon to Veronique and back. When she spoke, her warm words belied what Veronique was

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