Free Adore Me by Darcy Lundeen

Okay, maybe slightly more than concerned. Maybe just a wee bit obsessive.
    But so what? High-powered businessmen did it all the time, and wives and girlfriends were always expected to understand and to at least send a lousy greeting card for Valentine’s Day.
    But here it was, February fourteenth, and did the man have the decency to do that? Ha!
    Well, she was a big girl and couldn’t care less about a silly holiday that glorified some naked kid shooting arrows at people. Talk about idiotic concepts.
    She sat at the desk and stared at the computer screen. The image of the mock-up cake she’d designed stared back at her, and Meredith blinked away a tear that she refused to let fall.
    No problem. She’d always been able to handle any romantic debacle life threw at her, and she could damn well also rise above a professional setback.
    She’d just admit to the Ogilvys that she’d hit an unavoidable roadblock and couldn’t deliver. There was still time for them to find another baker. Maybe one who’d welcome having almost two-million candy hearts inscribed with the words “Adore Me” on hand, or at least one who had the room and could afford the expense of doing so.
    Meredith drained the wine glass and reached for the bottle to get a refill. As for her, she’d be fine, and someday the cake, sans candy hearts, would find another well-heeled bride who’d be thrilled to ooh and aah over it and welcome it to her wedding.
    “Right.” She set the wine bottle back on the desk with a decisive thump. “No question about that.”
    Then she remembered the candy-hearts company website. A week ago, before all those last-minute orders derailed her schedule, she’d planned to directly contact the people there to see if they had any advice for solving her problem. She still had some time before she had to give Julia the bad news, so maybe it wasn’t too late to do it now.
    Finding the URL for their website, she began keying it in as she prayed. “Maybe they can help,” she murmured. “Maybe they’ll even take pity on a poor business owner who—”
    The doorbell’s shrill blast cut her off, making her heart pump triple-time.
    “Crud,” she muttered and went to answer it, opening the door a crack.
    A deliveryman stood outside, cradling a large box in his arms. “Meredith Crismis?”
    She nodded and opened the door wider so he could come in.
    He plunked the box on the foyer table and shoved a pen and paper at her. “Delivery for you. Sign this.”
    Meredith glanced from man to box to man again, equally surprised by both of them. “What is it?”
    The man looked at her as if she was terminally dense. “A package,” he finally said.
    She narrowed her eyes at him. The one thing she didn’t need at the moment was snark. “I mean, who sent it, what’s inside?”
    “Damned if I know, lady. But if you sign on the dotted line, you can open it and find out.”
    She snatched the pen out of his hand, scrawled her name on the paper, and crowded him toward the door so he’d get the idea and make a speedy exit.
    “Smart mouth,” she muttered, but she was too intrigued by the delivery to spend time haranguing the deliverer. So she just slammed the door shut as soon as he left and carried the box to her desk.
    “With my luck, it will probably explode when I take the cover off,” she murmured as she pulled a pair of scissors from one of the drawers
    She was just about to snip the wrapping tape when someone began pounding at the door. Meredith groaned. If that was the delivery guy saying he’d made a mistake and the box wasn’t really for her, she’d heave the thing at his head. She tossed the scissors on the desk, thought better of it, and picked them up again before she went to answer the door.
    “Forget the deliveryman,” she said as she snapped the locks open and grasped the knob. “It’s probably an axe murderer, and if it is, I’m gonna whack the bum’s skull off.” She yanked the door open and came face-to-face