The Wedding Gift

CHAPTER THREE

What had he gotten himself into?

The answer to that question was pretty obvious as Andrew followed Rose around the wedding venue. He'd just agreed to add supervising his brother's wedding planning to a schedule that already included taping a high-pressure TV show and working as a guest chef two nights a week at one of his friend's five-star restaurants.

All because he couldn't stand for food to be anything less than spectacular.

His family wouldn't have even noticed the difference. He would, though.

Andrew had always loved food and cooking, so much that he'd forcefully ignored enormous amounts of family pressure to attend law school the way his brother had. He had been, and still was, committed to the food industry. Which was why he couldn't stand by and watch food being prepared without that same commitment.

"Now this," Rose was saying, "is our rose garden. Some couples like to have their vows out here under the arch, but I think you were saying your brother and his bride are looking for an indoor ceremony?"

Andrew nodded. The garden was beautiful, but he'd spent some time talking to both Phil and Nancy before he'd agreed to help out. They might not have time to get here for all the wedding preparations, but they still knew what they wanted. However, Andrew couldn't help noticing how quickly they'd assumed he'd have time to spare.

"We'll arrange time for you to sit down with Phoebe Davis, our florist, and talk through the arrangements for that. Anne Farleigh, our dress designer, is already hard at work on a design based on the ideas Nancy sent over. Your future sister-in-law will be able to make the last fitting, won't she?"

Andrew spread his hands. "That's definitely one part of the wedding I don't have any input on."

His phone went off just as the gardener came over and gestured for Rose to quickly give her opinion on the new flower beds. Assuming Andrew was going to take the call, Rose excused herself and stepped away. Andrew thought he heard her say something to the gardener about not bothering her while she was with a client, at which point the gardener simply grinned and replied, "Don't worry, I won't get any dirt on you or your clients," before gesturing to the flower beds at the corner of the building.

Andrew looked down at the screen on his phone and saw that it was his assistant, Sandy, calling. Most likely she was calling to let him know about some of the final details of the TV episode they would tape later in the day.

His new show was doing away with most of the usual cooking show gimmicks. Instead Andrew cooked in front of a live studio audience. For a simple idea it could be complicated and the producer insisted that Andrew be consulted on every minor detail. His last question had concerned the arrangement of the salt and pepper containers-he wanted to make sure they didn't create lighting problems on the table.

For once Andrew let the call ring through to voicemail. Sandy might not look like a typical assistant to a top chef-and the producer had already made the mistake of expressing the opinion that twenty-five-year-olds with too many piercings couldn't possibly be real assistants-but Sandy had taken the comments in stride and had proved him wrong. She was extremely capable.

Besides, Andrew had another woman on his mind right then. Someone whose hair color looked completely natural, and someone who used bright colors on a dinner plate instead of on her head. Someone he'd just agreed to work with.

Julie Delgado.

He'd recognized her instantly. She wasn't exactly easy to forget. And it wasn't just that she was beautiful. In his line of work Andrew was more than used to being around beautiful women. He'd had his share of relationships with them, too. Generally they lasted until Andrew worked out that they were more interested in his celebrity status than in him, or until the women decided that there were better things in life than food.