CHAPTER 1
Alexa Harmon tore out of her car and ran into the house, her high heels clicking against the concrete of the three-car garage and then the travertine tiles of the hallway and kitchen. She was late getting home from work, and that meant she was going to be hard-pressed to get dinner on the table on time.
She beelined for the bedroom, already working at the buttons on her silk blouse. Despite being under the gun, she took the time to hang up her work clothes and put everything away in the walk-in closet that was nearly as big as her childhood bedroom had been.
Grant didn’t like mess or clutter. Everything had to be in its place. Always.
Slipping into a pretty blue blouse, jeans, and her ballet flats, Alexa’s gaze cut to the alarm clock on her nightstand. She had twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five minutes to make sure her lateness didn’t ruin their whole evening.
Damnit, Alexa. You should’ve kept your eyes on the time better.
It was true. She’d just been elbows deep in materials arriving for the model home in Grant’s newest development. This was the first time he was letting her take the lead on the interior design of a model, rather than hiring their usual outside contractor, and she wanted it to be good. Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted it to be perfect.
More than that, she wanted to be good. Good enough. No, she wanted to be perfect. For Grant.
Grant really liked perfection.
Alexa got it. Her fiancé Grant’s perfectionist tendencies went a long way toward explaining how he’d built Grant Slater Enterprises, the biggest real estate development and management company in Western Maryland. Though he’d come into some kind of a trust fund when he was younger, he’d built most of his success with his own hard work and smart investments. Now, Frederick was almost a company town, at least where real estate was concerned. There were more developments in the area with the words Grant or Slater in their names than she could count. Their own neighborhood was a prime example—Slater Estates.
Running back out to the kitchen, a low pleading Meow caught Alexa’s attention.
“Come on, Lucy. Come with Mama,” Alexa called, heading straight for the cat’s bowl. She poured dry food into the dish, spilling a little in her haste. The hairless sphynx brushed against her leg in a show of affection. Alexa gave Lucy’s sweater-covered blue-gray body a quick pet as she scooped up stray morsels of food with her other hand.
The clock on the microwave told her she had twenty-two minutes now.
She grabbed the package of two filet mignons from the fridge, along with a bag of fresh asparagus. Moving as fast as she could, she found the grill pan for the meat and the sauté pan for the asparagus, and got that much going. The baked potatoes she’d planned weren’t going to be possible with this little time, and trying to boil water for corn on the cob would be pushing it. Her stomach knotted as her pulse raced. She buttered thick slices of Italian bread and seasoned them with garlic, then slid them into the warming oven to brown.
As soon as she turned the filets, she was back in the fridge. When her gaze settled on the container of chickpea salad from the weekend, relief flooded through her. She’d forgotten they had that. Finally, she threw together a green salad with chunky fresh vegetables.
Keeping a close eye on the time, she set the dining room table—Grant always preferred to eat in the formal dining room. She made sure to align the flatware just so, just as he liked. And then she was pouring the wine and plating the food with two minutes to spare.
Alexa might’ve fist-pumped if she wasn’t so anxious about almost having been late. Her stomach was in so many knots she wasn’t even sure she’d be able to eat. Though it was her own damn fault.
Six o’clock came and went. Six-oh-five. Six-ten. Sitting alone at the dining room table, Alexa frowned. Finally, her phone buzzed an incoming text message from Grant.
I’ve got a dinner meeting tonight. Don’t wait up.
Alexa stared at the screen for a long moment, then found herself blinking away threatening angry tears. She stuffed down all the things she wanted to say—and all the things she felt—and replied simply, Okay xo.
Look on the bright side, she thought. Okay. On the bright side, she’d now have time she hadn’t expected to work on her final project for her senior seminar.
Still . . .
She let herself fume and wallow for several more minutes, and then she shook her head. “Stop it, Al,” she said out loud. God, she really was overemotional lately, wasn’t she? Just like Grant said she was.
Between her job, designing the model home, her class project, her recent move into Grant’s house, and their upcoming wedding, there was just so much going on. She felt like she should be juggling it all with more grace and enthusiasm. Instead, what she really felt scared her. Scared her bad.