Don't Tell the Wedding Planner (2 page)

“Actually, the entire weekend needs to be planned.”

“Wait,” she said, straightening up from the counter to face him. “I thought you just needed me for the wedding part. You want me to be in charge of the entire LARPing
event?
”

After several years of experience as the locums doctor in various E.R.s located in big cities across the country, Matt had learned how to handle addicts flying higher than a kite, as dangerous as a violent criminal.

Much like a cornered wild animal, the key was to never let ’em see you flinch.

He maintained her gaze and adopted his best soothing tone. “Yes. But the weekend doesn’t need to be that elaborate. Throw up a few tents, offer a little food, and the guests bring their own costumes. And we can call it a day.”

He knew he’d totally downplayed Tommy and Penny’s vision for the weekend, but Matt thought they were dreaming too big anyway. He’d told them both pulling off exactly what they wanted would be impossible, short of crawling into the video game itself.

Her brow scrunched and several seconds ticked by.

“How much time do I have?” she asked.

“Two months.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m completely serious.”

“Impossible. Sorry, Mr. Paulson, you’ll have to find someone else.” She reached out and took his wrist, pushing up his sleeve to peek at his watch. And then gave him a pretty smile. “Time’s up.”

Momentarily stunned, he watched her head toward the cake table.

Until he remembered his goal, and took off, following her through the crowd. “I love what you did with
The Wizard of Oz
wedding,” he said, keeping stride with Callie. “And having the Mad Hatter as the wedding officiant in the
Alice in Wonderland
theme was inspired.”

Did he sound as stupid as he felt?

“How did you learn about that?” she asked.

“Colin gave me one of your brochures. He said you’re the best in the business.”

Callie cast him an amused glance but kept on walking. “Are you trying to use flattery to change my mind?”

“You bet,” he said. “Is it working?”

“Not yet, but feel free to keep trying.”

“The Elizabethan venue was spectacular—” he dodged two Southern belle dresses and a Confederate soldier “—and
The Three Musketeers
theme was cool, as well.”

She shot him a wry look. “Pirates,” she said. “It was a pirates theme.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Who else is better qualified for a
Dungeons of Zhorg
themed wedding?”

Callie stared out across the crowd of guests milling about as they enjoyed appetizers. A furrow of concentration between her brows, she appeared to be running through the idea in her head. She chewed on her cheek before swiping her lower lip with her tongue. The sight of the now damp, full mouth was putting a whammy on his libido.

Huh, if he was this easily distracted, it was well past time he sought out some female companionship. To take the edge off, so to speak. Or maybe he simply needed sleep.

“Okay. It might be doable. Crazy, mind you. But doable,” she drawled, and then looked around the current scene. “After all, crazy
is
my specialty.”

Matt smiled his first real smile since Tommy had shared his engagement news and Matt couldn’t decide if the marriage would make conditions better...or worse.

The potential for an epic screwup was great.

Callie sent him a wide smile back. The gesture wasn’t sexual, but the genuine nature lit her eyes in a way that left them sparkling, sending another bolt of heat and awareness up his spine.

Too bad his flight out was Sunday. And there was no way he could delay the trip. He’d already gone two weeks without flying back home, to the childhood house Matt had moved back into, sharing the residence with Tommy since the very first round of rehab had failed, all those years ago.

He cleared his throat. “Fantastic,” he said.

Mission accomplished. Problem addressed, solution found and past time to move on. Or, as the motto went in the E.R., treat ’em and street ’em. Everything was turning out better than he’d planned. He’d even get a full night’s sleep tonight.

“Let me know how much to put down as a deposit. I’ll get you my email so you can send me the invoices as we go.” He slipped his wallet from his pocket and pulled out his card, filling in the contacts. “And here are Tommy and my cell phone numbers too, just in case you have any questions—”

“Wait.” Her brown eyes grew even wider as she took his card. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

Concern edged up his back, making his shoulders feel stiff. “I have a hot date with the king-size bed in my hotel room—a rendezvous I’m really looking forward to. And Sunday I
have
to head back home.”

Callie leaned closer, bringing that lovely view in a more direct line of vision. “Listen, Mr. Paulson.”

How was he supposed to listen, much less concentrate, with a view like that? And clearly the stress of the upcoming event had knocked them back to a last-name basis instead of first.

“You’re lucky I have a light enough schedule and an assistant to help me,” Callie said. “But I can’t do this alone. There are too many decisions that need to be made, and made quickly, too. I won’t take responsibility for making the wrong ones. Someone needs to be around to help.”

“Both me and my brother will be available by phone and internet.”

“Not good enough. We can’t afford to play phone tag. Not with so little time and so many big choices to be made.”

“What choices?”

“Venue, for one. This won’t be your average setting. We’ll need a large outdoor park with adequate parking. Food, for another. A menu based on medieval times? Complicated. And from what I remember about LARP, there are games revolving around the video. And they’ll need to be authentic.”

“Tommy and Penny won’t care about the details,” he lied.

They would care. In fact, they’d care too much. That’s what made a fan crazy enough to base their entire wedding around a video game. An obsession about even the minutest of details.

“I once had a client who said she didn’t care. But she did,” Callie said. “Despite the fact the bride and groom were thrilled with my work, the one paying the bills wasn’t.” She tipped her head. “Who’s paying for all of this?”

“Me.”

Something flashed in her eyes that he didn’t recognize. Probably questions and comments and opinions about a wedding being paid for by the brother of the groom. Not your traditional arrangement. But then again, who else was there? No one.

And there hadn’t been for a long time.

Callie, to her credit, didn’t pry. “Then, officially, you’d be my boss. If you want me to agree to plan this event, you’re going to have to at least stick around long enough to make a few of the major decisions.”

“How long?”

“Depends on how our hunt for a venue goes. Can’t say for sure. Maybe a week?”

Damn. That would mean he’d go almost a month without physically checking in on Tommy. The last time Matt had done that, he’d missed some early clues, and Tommy had wound up in rehab again.

But that was two years ago and he’d promised Tommy he’d take care of this.

Matt turned his options over in his head. As far as he could see, he didn’t have any. He’d only just convinced the woman to take this project on. Refusing her now would be counterproductive. And finding someone else to participate in this harebrained idea would be absolutely impossible.

“All right,” he said, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’ll give you until Tuesday and then we can reassess from there.”

“Fine. But we need to get started right away, beginning with a meeting to list exactly what y’all want. I have to go out of town tomorrow, family stuff I have to take care of. But I’ll put together a list of potential park sites and Sunday we can make the rounds to check them out. We can use the drive to put together our ideas for the wedding weekend.”

Sticking around to help nail down the details for this crazy event? Not exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d climbed on the plane today. Matt could afford two more days in New Orleans before heading home. And Callie’s brilliant smile helped ease the frustrating turn of events.

“Sunday morning it is,” he said.

“Forecast calls for a heat wave the next few days or so.” Callie’s grin grew bigger. “Hope you like the weather hot, Mr. Paulson.”

The playful grin brought about one of his own.

“Ms. LaBeau,” Matt said, leaning close. “I like everything hot.”

* * *

Matt entered his hotel room and toed off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt as he headed toward the bathroom. Fatigue made his movement clumsy as he flicked open the front of his pants. After tossing his clothes aside, he flipped on the water and stepped inside the marble shower, groaning as hot water coursed over his hair and down his skin.

The ache in his muscles had started during the cramped four-hour flight, and now finally eased. Matt leaned his hand against the wall and bowed his head, letting the wet heat wash away the remainder of the stress of the past thirty-six hours.

It looked like his plans to get in and out of New Orleans quickly so he could check on Tommy had just bitten the dust. As a consolation, he now had a little more time to spend with Callie LaBeau. And the next time they saw each other, he will have had a full night’s sleep.

As far as screwed-up plans went, this one could have been worse.

But the time had come to rethink his approach.

First up, place a call to Tommy. A phone check never gave as much information as a face-to-face interaction, but it beat no contact at all. Unfortunately, no one could assess weight loss and skin color over the phone. Of course, the first sign Tommy was slipping was the way he refused to look Matt in the eyes.

Second, the trip around town to locate an available park. Matt ignored the tightening in his groin as he considered a day in the car. With Callie. Alone. Awareness definitely hung in the air around them, though he sensed a hint of reluctance on her part. A reluctance that could have meant anything.

Because they were working together.

Because she had a boyfriend, though Matt doubted that to be the case.

Because she still carried a torch for Colin...

Matt soaped himself clean, picturing the golden skin and the honey-colored hair and big brown eyes. The little dip in her upper lip. The way she nibbled on the inside of her cheek while lost in thought. The pink tongue that licked the corner of her wide mouth.

He pictured that mouth on his skin. The teeth. The
tongue
traveling down his chest. Past his abdomen. The lips closing around his—

He slammed his eyes shut.

Fifteen minutes later, clean and refreshed and a whole lot more relaxed, Matt padded from the bathroom and into his bedroom. He dried his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist, heading to the window and pulling back the curtain. The lights of New Orleans spread out before him. As much as he dreaded the conversation, he picked up his cell phone and punched speed dial.

He hated the way his stomach tightened before every contact. After two years of a sober Tommy, Matt should have stopped bracing for the worst every time. Only problem was, Tommy had achieved sobriety before. Six times total. Every relapse had gotten harder than the one before. And had broken Matt’s heart a little more.

“Hello?”

Despite everything, as always his brother’s voice made Matt smile.

“Tommy. Fought any good dragons lately?”

The laugh on the other end sounded robust, easing a little of Matt’s nerves.

“Dude, you should have seen the troll that Penny took down the other day,” Tommy said.

“Big?”

“Massive.”

“Hope her cooking isn’t going to your waist. Your chain mail still fit?”

When Tommy’s chuckle finally died down, he said, “That headhunter called again today.”

The news formed a knot in Matt’s chest and expanded, the pressure creating a wound that would never fully heal. The first time the recruiter from Jaris Hawking Healthcare had called about a job, Matt had been thrilled. At the time he’d been too busy cleaning up the last of his brother’s latest mess to search for a job, but things with Tommy had seemed to be settled and Matt was ready to finally make the longed-for career move. Matt had spent hours researching the busy hospital in Miami, looking forward to the excitement he craved. But just when he’d been set to sign the papers, Tommy had relapsed again, requiring another round of rehab. And a family member to be there to ensure it happened. Matt had finally realized that he’d never be able to move.

Giving up that dream had hurt like hell, but there was no sense rehashing old disappointments.

Tommy went on, “They said they were desperate for someone with your talents.”

“I hope you told him I’m still not interested.” If he repeated the lie enough, he just might begin to believe it. Besides, he had more important things to ask. “How’s work?” He aimed for a nonchalant tone, but he knew Tommy saw straight through the question.

“You don’t need to check up on me, Matt.” Tommy didn’t sound annoyed, just resigned. “Work is fine. Penny is fine.
I’m
fine.”

“You sure you two geeked-out lovebirds want to get hitched during a lame-ass reenactment of a video game? Not too late to go for the Elvis wedding in Vegas. Or better yet, a pirate-themed adventure wedding in Hawaii. Think of it. A week’s vacation in Maui with all expenses paid by yours truly. What better wedding gift could a brother ask for, huh? I could do with a base tan myself.”

“The wedding absolutely has to be in New Orleans. We want trolls. And dragons. And Matt...?”

Matt dropped onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard and propping up his feet. “Yeah, sport?”

“I’ll pay you back.”

Matt’s lips twisted wryly as affection kicked him the chest. Every goddamned time. The kid had spent the past twenty-five years worming his way into Matt’s heart, until Tommy was so firmly entrenched, there was nothing Matt could do. He could picture his brother’s wavy brown hair, earnest face and appreciative gaze. Beneath those ribs beat a heart of gold.