LITMIR.BIZ

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gold circles on the plates and matching gold rims on the coffee cups, saucers and bowls. But, as Simone Parker had told her, at only a couple of hundred dollars per setting, it wouldn’t be a great loss if some were broken. At that thought, Sophie rolled her eyes and smiled. Not exactly like the Independence Day celebrations back home where her dad would cook hot dogs on a homemade grill in the backyard while her mom made her family-famous potato salad and baked beans, usually served on paper plates. The beverages consisted of beer for the adults and lemonade for the kids. How in the world had she managed to land in such a totally different world?

      “Are you almost finished?” a deep voice asked. She didn’t have to turn around and look at Clay’s tanned face to know it was him.

      “Just about. Did you need me for something?”

      Sophie glanced at Gayle Brown, one of the volunteers, who stood tongue-tied in front of her, staring over Sophie’s shoulder at Clay. He leaned down to Sophie and whispered, “Ask me that when we’re alone.” Aloud he said, “Can I offer you a ride home?”

      She turned and smiled at him. “That would be great. Thank you.”

      “Okay, Gayle, where were we?”

      “The wine is... We...we were at the wine,” she stammered, her eyes glued to Clay, who was casually dressed in his T-shirt, a pair of holey jeans and well-worn boots. He could easily wow the pants off any woman in the room. And he didn’t have to be a billionaire to do it.

      Sophie hoped the woman wouldn’t literally start to drool.

      “And...what about the wine?”

      “The... Oh. It’s here. And the new champagne flutes came in last week. They are expecting about five hundred members and guests, give or take, based on past years. If there are more, the kitchen crew will keep the dishwashers going full-time.”

      “Sophie, I have a total count of the stemware,” said another volunteer, smiling intently at Clay. “Where do you want them set up?”

      Sophie looked around the vast room. There was no place for all of the stemware in the main ballroom. “Let’s set up a table for each type at points around the room. There are six serving stations. I think we need to break down what type of beverage we will be serving, what glasses we need and put out a large tray for the used glasses at each one. I’m betting there will only be enough room for thirty to forty glasses. The rest will have to be brought from the back as needed.”

      “Okay. Sounds like a good plan to me,” Gayle replied. “I’ll find Martha and we’ll get started on it.”

      “Perfect.” Sophie smiled at Gayle, who had again locked her gaze on Clay. “And make sure each station has plenty of cocktail napkins and stir sticks. Can you think of anything else we missed?”

      “Ah. No?” Gayle turned to Sophie. “Some of the guys are manhandling—” she cleared her throat “—the...the ice for the drinks, but like with the glasses, most of it’s gonna have to be kept in cold...ah, hum, excuse me, storage in the back and brought out as needed.” She gulped the air deep into her lungs as though she wouldn’t have another opportunity. Ever.

      “Good enough. Do you happen to know if the two ice sculptures have arrived?”

      “No, ma’am. I haven’t seen them and I haven’t heard anyone talking about them.”

      “Sounds like I need to make a couple of phone calls. Thanks so much for your help, Gayle.”

      “Ah...sure. No problem.”

      “You’re not helping.” Sophie glared at Clay after Gayle hurried off.

      “What did I do?”

      She rolled her eyes. “You showed up.” She received a pursed-lip smile in response. He knew exactly the effect he had on women.

      Clay stood by patiently while she grabbed her cell phone. “Let me call and check on the ice sculptures.” She hurriedly placed the call. A few minutes later she was satisfied the sculptures were on their way and all was good. Absently smiling, she turned to Clay.

      “All good on the ice sculptures?” he asked.

      “Yep. Both sculptures are en route and should arrive in the next hour. Someone else can take over from here.”

      The day seemed to have gone fast, but by the time she arrived at her little cottage, it would be past six o’clock. Then she could enjoy a long soak in a hot tub and read herself to sleep.

      “Members of the club voted to have a pavilion built adjacent to the flower gardens on the west side of the clubhouse,” said Clay.

      “Yes. I saw it this afternoon. It’s nice. I think they will be serving the barbecue there tonight. People can then go inside and be seated at a table or dine at one of the new tables outside.”

      Excitement ran high. People not associated with the TCC came from miles around to watch what had gained a reputation as the best firework display in the state. Sophie would be happy to watch the fireworks from her little back porch and enjoy a little R & R at home instead.

      “Okay. I’m finished. There are plenty of other volunteers to cover anything that might come up.”

      Most of them only wanted to get a look inside the vast TCC clubhouse. Only a chosen few had ever seen the interior since it was established more than a hundred years ago. Only recently had the club begun to allow select women to become members and while Clay said it was a good thing, many members still didn’t like it.

      With the warmth of his large hand on her lower back, Clay accompanied Sophie out of the building and to his car.

      Once they were both seated in his Porsche Spyder, Clay looked toward her and smiled.

      “I’ll pick you up at eight. The orchestra will be playing and the fireworks are slated to start at nine.”

      His words brought up memories of the last time they’d attended a social function.

      “I’m not going to the fireworks. I’ll just watch them from my house.”

      “Then I’ll watch with you. I have to make an appearance at the club but I don’t have to stay long. Would nine o’clock be okay?”

      “Clay, I’m tired and all I want is a quiet night starting with a hot soak in the tub. I imagine most of the women that will be here tonight would love your invitation.”

      “I doubt you’re right about that, but at any rate I’m not asking them. I want you to come with me and see the fireworks from the club. I want you to be my guest.” His voice lowered. “I want to be with you.”

      “We are together five, sometimes six days a week,” she said and laughed. “Surely you’re getting tired of my company by now.”

      “Never.”

      “Clay...” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be with him. She dreamed of him every night and had recently begun to daydream about him at work, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t that she cared about who in the town saw them together or the rumors of a relationship between them that had no doubt spread after the masked ball. After the gossip that had flown hot and heavy in her hometown, a love affair with a billionaire was nothing. But Clay didn’t know about those other rumors. And she wasn’t ready to tell him. She wasn’t ready to discuss that with anybody.

      It had been really hard to carry on with her life after the night he made love to her two months ago. Seeing him every day in his office, answering his phone, taking his messages, being polite to the women who called him, making excuses when he wouldn’t call them back. He said there was no one else he wanted to talk to unless it was business. About half of the callers didn’t want to disclose their business to her. She’d tried and all they said was it was personal. When she filled the top of his desk with message slips, he had glanced over them before tossing them into the trash. At seeing her astonishment, he always responded with a quick wink and that smile that made her heart go ten times faster.

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