The Bouquet List by Barbara Deleo Page B

coming to the wedding now that he’s said no. We have to have you with a date, or my cousin Bernie will be after you like he was at my twentieth birthday party.”
    “No, he’s still coming.” She lowered her voice. “We’re going to use it as a bit of an undercover sting to find out what the O’Malleys are doing so right with their place. We might get a few ideas for decorating the restaurant and improving our service from it.”
    “Oh, great idea. I heard that their daughter Erin, you know that really classy girl from school, has taken over running the place.”
    The hairstylist came back and held up the mirror, and Genie touched the back of her head. “Yeah, it’ll do. After I get my hands on the groomsman it’ll be all messed up anyway.”
    The hairdresser gave a disapproving look, then removed the towel and cape around Genie’s shoulders, and as she stood, she shook all over like a horse having its saddle removed. “My only piece of advice about next weekend is to wear the sexiest dress you have. What man doesn’t get swept away by the romance and open bar of a wedding that’s not his own?”
    Yasmin did a mental inventory of her closet. “I don’t know if I’ve got anything suitable. Want to come shopping?”
    “Of course. How about after this?”
    “Sorry, I can’t. Lane’s picking me up from here in a minute. We’re going to look at fabric for the new restaurant drapes and chair coverings.”
    Genie lifted an eyebrow.
    “What?”
    “I didn’t have Lane pegged as an expert in soft furnishings, not with his suits and that briefcase you say he keeps carrying around.”
    Yasmin laughed. “He’s not. I think the only reason he’s taking me is to stop me from going with Paulo.”
    “Paulo? Who? What the—!?”
    The door to the salon opened and Lane stepped in. “Hi.” He pulled sunglasses from his face and as usual, Yasmin’s heart beat, tippity-tap, against her rib cage. She hadn’t seen him since their discussion about why he was doing all this for her father, and somehow, knowing how strongly loyal he was to her brother and her family made her want him all the more.
    “Genie, you remember Lane,” Yasmin said.
    “Great to see you again, Lane.” Genie beamed. “I don’t normally look like a trussed-up turkey, but lucky you, you get to see me like this again at the wedding!”
    Lane grinned. “Great hair, and I’m looking forward to your brother’s wedding.”
    She gave an exaggerated whisper. “It’s so cool, you guys going on an undercover recon mission. Just let me know if you need me to distract anyone. Unless of course I’m too busy with my own grab-the-groomsman mission.”
    “I appreciate the offer,” Lane said, chuckling, then turned to Yasmin. “Are you ready? The car’s outside.”
    Yasmin nodded, then gave Genie a hug, and her best friend whispered in her ear, “Short, sweet, and no strings, remember. Go on, give it another try.”
    Fifteen minutes later they were standing in the Bella Casa fabric warehouse. Rows and rows of colorful bolts of fabric stretched out in the building as big as two football fields and suddenly Yasmin felt out of her depth. Maybe she should have talked to her mom about this? Maybe she should have taken advice from a real interior designer rather than trusting her own taste and the practical know-how of a man like Lane.
    “You really didn’t need to come with me, you know,” she said. “I can’t imagine you’ve had much to do with fabric before.” She stroked the enormous roll next to her. It was a light, gauzy material that felt rough under her fingers.
    He nodded. “True, but I know what will work well in the restaurant in terms of creating the right atmosphere.”
    “How was your date last night?” Yasmin said, pretending to be fascinated by a packet of curtain rings, while she held her breath for his reply.
    “I thought I told you it wasn’t a date. Lisa and I were meeting about the charity food organization we