“Georgian Inn sends a warm welcome each time you walk through the door,” Angela read from the inn’s brochure. “Whether napping in the swing on the sun porch or just relaxing in the parlor, you'll realize the southern charm and grace that 'are' the way of life everyday in the South. From its high ceilings, chestnut and heart pine floors, stained glass windows, pocket doors, and the original staircase, the details of the inn provide a glimpse of the beauty of times gone by.” She nodded in approval as she surveyed her surrounds from the front parlor, waiting in the front parlor for any news of her room. “Not bad.”


Couples began filing in but none she recognized. She leaned back in her armchair, took in a lungful on sweet magnolias scented air and waited patiently. This was the South; everything moved slower. “It’s a beautiful time of year for a wedding,” she observed watching the hummingbirds dance in the blooming green gardens just outside the lace trimmed windows.


Another couple and a tall handsome single gentleman arrived and were greeted warmly by the innkeeper’s wife. “I’m sorry for the wait,” she laughed in that nervous Southern way and turned her attention to Angela. “Check-in isn’t normally this chaotic. We weren’t expecting the entire guest list to arrive at once. Please help yourself to the bar. Your room will be ready shortly.” She prompted Angela and left.


Angela walked over the receiving bar and mixed a rum and Coke. Nothing fancy, just something to take the edge off the long flight from Tulsa and the awkwardness of not knowing any of the other guest. She’d only accepted the invitation because Cynthia was an old friend and she desperately needed a vacation.


“The rooms aren’t ready so take your time,” she heard a female voice say into her cell phone as she exited onto the front porch. “They picked a great location. The grounds are beautiful," The screen door closed behind her but her whiny voice carried. "No, Cynthia and Rich aren't here yet. They’re stuck in traffic coming out of Atlanta.”


“Well that explains it.” Angela brushed stray hairs away from her deep cinnamon face, and ran her hand over her white linen sundress before taking her seat. She was beautiful, but not in the ordinary voluptuous manner. No, she had an arresting quality and a velvety laugh that endeared people to her. She was often told she’d missed her calling, politics. She would've succeeded had she put her mind to it however, her artistic side prevailed and she pursued the quiet life of a writer. The sound of other guest walking outside brick patio in the side yard jarred her from daydreaming just when the tall handsome gentlemen entered the room.


“Hello,” he smiled like a young Daniel Craig.


“Hi,” she replied taking in a riff of his cologne. Armani, she’d recognize its aroma anywhere. Out of the corner of her eye she spied him canvassing the bookshelves. His strong jawline was undeniably all-male, and yet his long eyelashes lent a certain vulnerability to his appearance. “I was told to help myself to the bar if you’d like something to drink,” she offered.


“Thanks,” he held up a small half full tumbler. “The innkeeper sorted me out.” He sat and watched Angela perfectly manicured nails tap her glass. “Awkward.” He said reclining.


“Excused me?”


“I was saying how awkward it is being around people you hardly know and trying to strike up conversation to fill the uncomfortable silence.” He remarked disarmingly cool.


“You’re right,” she chuckled. “You sit there wishing they’d throw you a bone—anything to ease the pressure.”


They acknowledged the truth in their statements and ebbed into more uncomfortable silence. Their eyes skirted the room, covertly read one another with a fleeting glance, and then looked away before either was caught. It was just long enough for both to assess that he was at least ten years Angela’s junior.


“By the way, my name is Jason."


“Nice to meet you, Jason. I’m Angela.” She raised her glass slightly.


“How do you know Rich and Cynthia?”


“Cynthia and I grew up together in Tulsa. I haven’t seen her in months. What about you?” she sat her drink down and felt her nerves unwind. “What’s your connection?”


“Rich is my golfing buddy—well he used to be until I moved to Ireland.”


“You came all the way to from Ireland to Greenville Georgia for your former golfing buddy’s wedding!” Angela sounded rather astonished.


“Yeah, I moved to Ireland last year on a whim.”


“Really? How is it?”


“Ireland is amazing. I live in Kilrush, a quaint village with a large harbor,” he mused, his uneasiness dissipated with her ingenuous smile. “I own a small pub near the center of town.”


“You own a pub?”


“Yes, it’s a local watering hole,” He said bashfully, his eyelashes swept across his cheeks. “What do you do?”


Angela sighed and said proudly. “I’m an author. I write romance novels.”


“Romance novels, interesting,” his lips pinched. “Anything I would have read?”


“You read romance novels?”


“No, but I thought it would make you feel better if I’d ask.” He gave a deep throaty laugh.


Angela giggled with a wide smile. Her attention was pulled to the hallway as another couple arrived and was greeted by the innkeeper’s wife. “How much longer is it going to take?” Irritation crept into her voice.


“How long have you been waiting?”


“I arrived about fifteen minutes ahead of you. Which room did you reserve?” Angela inquired before she could suppress her words. She hoped the question had been received in the friend manner in which it was intended rather then creepy.


“I’m in the “Rhett Butler” room. What about you?”


“I’m in the “Georgian.”


Jason’s eyes widen. “You’re in the Georgian? I was hoping to get that one. It has the best views in the place.”


Angela covered her mouth. “Oh I’m sorry.”


“No, please don’t apologize. I’m two doors down from you.”


“Well you’re welcome to peer out of my windows all you’d like.”


He laughed. “I may take you up on your offer.”


“Excuse me,” the innkeeper’s wife interrupted. “Both of your rooms are ready. I’ll show you upstairs.” She led the way up the creaky ornate staircase. “Your rooms are very spacious. Each has its own fireplace, private bath, television, and telephone.”


Angela glanced back at Jason and gave him a ‘well well well, impressive' look. He shrugged and stayed his amusement.


“Miss Taylor this is your room,” she opened the door, allowing Angela to pass. The rooms’ décor featured a tasteful soft floral pattern throughout, lace curtains, an Eastlake marble top chest with an oval shaving mirror, and marble top tables on each side of a 1800's mahogany bed. “You should find it very comfortable.”


“It’s lovely.” Angela placed her purse on the padded bench at the foot of the bed. For a moment she thought Jason would come in from the hallway and checkout her new digs, but he proved to be the perfect gentleman and waited patiently outside for the innkeeper’s wife.


“Thank you,” she said smugly and turned her attention to Jason. “Mr. Banks, your room is this way.”


Curiosity got the better of Angela. She followed them to Jason’s room but kept her distance.


“You’re in the “Rhett Butler”. It’s a popular room, very masculine, but has Miss Scarlett's feminine touches here and there.” She opened the door.


Jason and Angela were impressed by the antique mahogany bed draped in a slate blue duvet and classic rustic elegance of the room however the immediate draw was the brilliant white plantation shutters which opened onto the South lawn.


Jason addressed the innkeeper’s wife. “This is perfect. Thank you…” He prompted her for her name.


“Please call me Ann.” She said warmly. “I understand you were disappointed about loosing the other room…”


“No,” he cut her off. “Thank you, Ann. This room is more…”


“Manly.” Angela finished his sentence.


“Exactly!” he rocked back on his heels.


Sensing her presence was no longer ended, Ann excused herself and left Angela and Jason to chat. They stood looking out of his window onto the grounds below. The catering staff was setting up food stations around the lawn which had taken on the appearance of an Arab tent encampment. Their conversation was effortless. No sexual innuendos, no forced banter, just two individuals chatting.


“Well, I’m going to take a nap before the happy couple arrives.” Angela proclaimed.


“Will you be attending the cocktail hour later this evening?” Jason asked before she slipped through the door.


“Of course! I’m counting on you to be my savior should I fall in the hands of some old uncle or perverted cousin.”


“I’ll be your knight in shining armor if you promise to redeem me should you find me cornered by an overzealous aunt.” He bartered.


“Deal.” She left but reappeared swiftly. “Oh, I forgot. What’s your favorite drink?”


“Tom Collins, why?”


She smiled coyly. “You’ll see.”




                                                      *******




After a long nap and shower, Jason leaned against the bar, clothed in a casual evening suit, sipped the last of his drink and hung by his last nerve. Somehow, in the vast sea of people, he’d fallen prey to two of Rich’s spinster aunts with Angela, his redeemer, nowhere in sight. The choice of band was his only crumb of comfort...at least there was something to drown out the constant bickering. He searched frantically for Rich. They hadn’t spoken more than two words to one another all evening as he was having his own family issues.


Jason made a quick study of Rich’s headaches and regretted downing the last of his drink. The tent’s entrance parted briefly as Angela stepped inside. The soft shadowy lights cast a luminous glow against her lavender silk gown but Jason’s unrelenting gaze never wavered from her delicate face. Their eyes met for a second too long. Angela walked in the opposite direction and Jason lost her in the crowd. Minutes later she sauntered towards him.


“There you are. I’ve been looking all over the place for you,” she kissed him on both cheeks and handed him a drink. “Tom Collins, correct?”


“Tom Collins is correct,” Jason did his best to conceal his amusement. A few nanoseconds passed without anyone speaking.


“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” One aunt asked Jason.


“Oh sorry. I assumed you’d already meant…um… Angela, these are Rich’s aunts: Clarabelle and Dorothy.”


“Glad to meet you both. Thank you for keeping him entertained. It took longer than expected to pull myself together.”


“You’re beautiful, dear. We’ll see you later.” The other aunt offered and they left.


Jason turned to Angela. “Thanks for saving me. You look stunning.” He stepped back, taking her in as she gave a playful pose. The band began playing Brian McKnight’s “Love of My Life”. “I love this song. Would you like to dance?”


Angela sat her glass on the bar. “Thanks, I’d love too.” She took his extended hand. “I’m warning you, it’s been awhile since I’ve danced.”


When they reached the dance floor, he stared down at her for a long moment. Angela gazed up into his eyes and no longer saw a man that was too young for consideration. She saw a man…a handsome with his arms encircling her, pressing her against himself and moving her slowly in time with the music. He was a good dancer and moved easily to the rhythm. Angela felt herself go limp and melt softly against his chest.


She could feel the imprint of his hands burning through the fabric of her gown straight to her flesh as they slowly roamed across her back. His heart pounded beneath her hand resting against his hard chest. He wasn’t unmoved by her—at least not physically. Note by seductive musical note, she became more conscious of his muscular contour, of his arms wrapped around her, of his thighs brushing against hers, of how he held her tightly to him as if molding her to fit.


Her arms reached up and snaked his neck, while his locked around her trim waist, holding her lusciously curvy body flush with his. Involuntarily, her fingers moved easily through the back of his perfectly trimmed sun-kissed hair. She looked up into his eyes as he peered down into hers.


The song tailed to an end. The band announced they were taking a break to the party goers’ applause. Angela and Jason clapped seconds later.


Angela looked around the room and swallowed. “I’d better go…”


“Yeah, I’d better go too. See you tomorrow.” He said, more of a question rather than a statement.


“Yeah…um!” Angela couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good…goodnight.”


“Goodnight.” He bought a couple of seconds before she left. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she walked leisurely out of the tent.