Married By Morning

There were many reasons why Kim was her best friend. And she was holding two of them.

Daphne opened the door wider, waving Kim in and relieving her of her burden. “The creativity convention in Reno was fine. It was the trip home that stunk. My direct flight was delayed—twice—then forced to land in Sioux City when the pilot’s appendix burst. They lost my luggage somewhere over the continental United States, I lost my lunch in the turbo-jet’s bathroom during ungodly turbulence and then finally lost my car.”

“Your car?”

Daphne nodded. “I forgot where I parked it in the Indianapolis lot. Even the guy who ran the lot couldn’t find it. So he gave me a phone number and told me to call the manager after nine tomorrow.”

“Wow, talk about a bad day.”

“I came home to worse.” Daphne sighed, grabbing some dishes, then sinking into a chair at her kitchen table and telling Kim about the basket, her mistaken call to Jerry, and the mix-up with Carter Matthews. “That man is an evil monster, Kim. We should hang a warning poster about him outside the building.”

Kim laughed, her blond ponytail swinging and her bright green eyes dancing as she did. “Aw, he’s not that bad. He’s the guy who just moved into 4-B right?” Daphne nodded. “The women around here have been buzzing about our new neighbor and trying to outdo each other to snag one of the last bachelors standing.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you read the paper? He’s a frequent flyer in Gloria’s Gossip and Gab column. You know, one of those moderately wealthy, handsome guys who think marriage is for wimps. If that’s what evil monsters look like, sign me up for the movie.”

Daphne thought of Carter Matthews’s dark brown hair, the way the waves were displaced when he ran his fingers through it, leaving him looking like he just tumbled out of bed. His eyes, deep and blue, the kind most women fantasized about. Most women, though. Not her. And not Cecilia anymore, either, apparently. “Looks can’t make up for bad personality.”

“But they sure help.” Kim winked. “So, what are you going to do about Jerry?”

Daphne sighed. “Honestly, I’m relieved. Jerry wasn’t exactly Prince Charming.”

“Then why did you stay with him for five months?”

She shrugged. “I guess I thought he had all the qualities I wanted, or maybe did, somewhere in there. He was like a houseplant—a little time and some sunlight and he’d grow into what I needed.”

Kim laughed. “That man needed way more than a little fertilizer.”

“You’re right.” Daphne poured them each a margarita, then took a couple sips of her own before going on. The tequila hit her brain fast, skipping right past her empty stomach. “He was just so supportive of the creativity center, I thought—”

“You could turn ground chuck into sirloin?”

Daphne laughed. “I’ll never tell Carter Matthews this, but he did me a favor. It was time to break up with Jerry. I just wish the creativity center didn’t have to be part of it, too.”

“You don’t think he’ll look past this and still put his money into it, out of a sense of civic duty or something?”

“Nope. He made that really clear.” Daphne dished up some Chinese food for each of them, then toyed with a fortune cookie. “Do you know what I really want, Kim?”

“Besides hitting the lottery?”

“A man who cares about me. About what’s important to me. Someone who…” She paused a minute. “I don’t know, fills in the gaps.”

“Are we replaying the dialogue from a Tom Cruise movie?”

Daphne laughed again. “No. I guess it’s more that I want to have fun, but I never seem to do it. I go to work, I come home and I live the same day three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”

“Something you’ve been doing for a long time,” Kim said with the soft tones of a longtime friend.

“Yeah.” Daphne shook off the thoughts. “Anyway, I’ve just had a heck of a day. Makes me all melancholy. I think once I find a new supporter for the creativity center, I’ll feel better.”

Kim’s hand covered hers. “Don’t worry, Ducky, you’ll think of something,” she said, lapsing into Daphne’s childhood nickname. When she’d been a child, it had started out as the second half of Daffy Duck, a tease from kids who paired her first name with the cartoon character. As she’d gotten older, the Ducky part had stuck, because, as Kim said, Daphne had this uncanny ability to bounce back from anything and always ride above a disaster. She’d turned companies around with her creativity training and usually managed to keep a sunny perspective on life.

Until Carter Matthews had ruined everything.

Now the duck was starting to sink. Well, she wasn’t going under without taking someone else along for a well-deserved drowning, too.

CHAPTER TWO

ON WEDNESDAY morning, Carter had resolved to make things better, to once again try on that CEO hat. Maybe even take a step forward from yesterday’s disaster.

He hadn’t. If anything, he’d made things worse.

Before he’d left his apartment, his best toy designer had called, irate that Carter had rejected Cemetery Kitty. The toy designer had pitched a tantrum of epic proportions, saying he was quitting and in the process, gave Carter an angry, rambling speech about working with idiots and a corporate culture worthy of sewer workers.

That had stung. Sewer workers were probably more creative than his team, damn it. At least they unplugged problems, instead of creating them.

The call had put him behind schedule, and if there was one thing Carter didn’t want, it was a disruption in his schedule. His new, as of today, highly responsible schedule.

He was going to make this thing work—even if it took getting to the office at the crack of dawn and staying till ten—p.m., instead of his usual ten a.m. quitting time.

This morning, he’d hoped to be in the parking garage at seven-nineteen in the morning, in his office by seven-thirty. He glanced at his watch. Eight-oh-seven.

Great. Just what he needed. To be late and one toy designer short.

This CEO business had turned out to be far more time consuming than Carter had expected. It wasn’t about the missed golf games, the canceled dates, or his forgetfulness to restock his fridge. It was the way the business seemed to consume his every thought, haunting him even when he wasn’t there. Now he understood why his twin brother’s work life had nearly cost him his marriage.

Cade had seen the light, however, and exited the law work he hated in favor of supporting Melanie’s business. Now Cade was home with Melanie every night, rekindling the flame that had nearly gone out in their marriage.

Somewhere along the way, Carter had gotten the idea that he could prove himself as a responsible person, too. Considering how TweedleDee Toys was going, all he was proving was his ability to fail.

He’d avoided the office all these weeks because of the certain knowledge that despite his best intentions, he didn’t have what it took to rescue the company. Every attempt he made to improve—reduce the bottom line, increase production, shore up morale—had been met with resistance by employees too used to being on their own—

And far too familiar with Carter’s indulgent past.

Carter pushed the thoughts away and stepped out of the building and into the bright, warm sunshine. Daphne Williams stood in the parking lot, her keys in one hand, cell phone in the other, and an exasperated expression on her face. “What do you mean, you towed it? I didn’t see a No Parking sign when I left it in the long-term lot.” A pause. “That wasn’t the long-term lot? Since when?” Another pause. “If you’re going to completely reconfigure the airport parking lot, you could at least put up a sign. Mail out a flyer. Let people know so they don’t—” She let out a huff at being interrupted. “Of course. I’ll be sure to fill out the comment card on my next visit to the airport. You can count on that.” Then she clicked the phone shut and let out a half-scream/half-groan of frustration.

“Having a good day?” he asked, teasing her. Because he couldn’t resist and because, hell, he was already late.

She wheeled on him. “If you must ask, and I can tell by the glint in your eyes that you must, no, I’m not.” Her voice broke on the last words and for a moment, he felt awful. “I have to be at a meeting in twenty minutes and my car isn’t where it’s supposed to be, and the place that towed it isn’t open until ten.” She drew in a breath, seemed to steady herself, then her face brightened. “Well, I always did enjoy the adventure of a cab ride before breakfast.” Daphne flipped out her phone and started to scroll through the programmed numbers, muttering to herself as she did. “What was the name of that taxi company?”

Guilt came in many forms, Carter realized. Some of them brunette and slim and with a crushed, vulnerable look in wide chocolate eyes. “Where’s your meeting?”

“Seventh and Vine.”

“My office is on Eighth. Let me give you a ride.”

She glanced up from the phone. “Why?”