Animal Instincts by Gena Showalter Page B

adamant in their desire for plain fare,” I added quickly.
    Her features fell, giving her expression a cute little pout. “Are you sure? I’ve got a new recipe—”
    “I’m sure!”
    She shrugged her shoulders daintily. “There’s no accounting for taste,” she said, her gaze traveling over the list. “You and Royce are considering going with a jewelry-box theme?”
    “Considering, yes. Royce says it’s the one thing his mother loves.” I paused, hesitant. “Do you like it?”
    “No, I don’t like it. I love it,” she said, making me smile in relief. Her features brightened, illuminating the angelic roundness of her face. “Perhaps I can make hors d’oeuvres that look like necklaces and earrings.”
    I nodded my approval. “That’s the spirit, though we’re not one-hundred-percent settled on that theme yet. Give me a couple of days to firm it up.”
    Kera folded the papers and stuffed them in her apron pocket. “I hate to change the subject back to the one you want to avoid, but I’m dying to ask. Have you filled out an application to become Mrs. Royce Powell yet?”
    “No.” I glanced away from her. “Of course not.”
    “Do you plan to?”
    “What kind of question is that? Absolutely not.”
    “Then why do you have one in your bag?”
    My cheeks heated so much I might have set off a fire alarm had one been nearby. Damn it, I hadn’t wanted anyone to see the application Elvira had given me—but I hadn’t had the strength to throw it away. “Royce’s assistant gave it to me by mistake, that’s all.”
    Watchful, searching, she made a tsking sound under her tongue. “You kept it when you could have thrown it away. Why did you keep it, Naomi?”
    As if I wanted to analyze myself that deeply. I didn’t know why I was having trouble parting with the stupid thing, and I didn’t want to know. The answer might scare me. Perhaps that meant I was the kind of person who pulled the covers over my head if I heard a strange noise in the middle of the night instead of calling 911, but I didn’t care.
    My cell phone chose that moment to burst forth with a string of high-pitched rings, saving me from having to answer her. God bless technology.
    “Hang on a sec,” I said, leaning down and unsnapping the front flap of my case. I withdrew my phone and placed it at my ear. “Events by Naomi.”
    “Where are you?” an angry male voice ground out.“I tried you at home. Many times. Obviously you weren’t there.”
    Recognition came instantly, as did the tingling surge of excitement. The warm rush of desire. Royce.
    “I’m at Cinderella Catering,” I told him, commanding my heart rate to slow. “Good news. They’ve agreed to cater the party.”
    “What are you doing there? You were supposed to meet me for lunch. Have you forgotten?”
    “No.” Frowning, I glanced up at Kera, who was watching me with unconcealed interest. “We met yesterday instead. I thought—”
    “So don’t think. We met yesterday in addition to our lunch today. I expect you to be at my office in ten minutes.”
    “But I—”
    “Ten minutes, Naomi.”
    “Will you just listen to—” I needn’t have bothered trying to explain myself. The other line had already clicked, signaling its abrupt disconnection.
    My teeth ground together in annoyance, anticipation and disgust at my reaction to simply hearing his voice. I threw the phone back in my briefcase, wishing it were Royce’s head so I could toss it to the ground and stomp on it. Maybe even give it a hard kick between the eyes (while wearing steel-toed boots) for good measure.
    I liked to think it took great lengths to shatter my composure. (Hey, there’s nothing wrong with lying to oneself.) Yet it seemed as if Royce had only to open his mouth and my patience immediately flew out the window. Damn Triple C.
    I directed a disgruntled look to my cousin. “I’ve got to run. Duty calls.”
    Her features were lit with interest. “Bachelor of the Year?”
    “None