Don't Tell the Wedding Planner (3 page)

Amazing what havoc an addiction could inflict.

“You bet you’ll pay me back,” Matt said with a teasing tone. “With twenty percent interest. Wait, I forgot about inflation. Make that thirty percent. Didn’t I tell you? You’re my retirement fund.”

“Which means you’re screwed, bro.”

Matt let out a scoff. “Better odds than on Wall Street.”

Tommy laughed. When his brother finally grew silent, Matt went on.

“Seriously, though?” Matt said. “Don’t worry about the money. That’s what brothers are for. Just...”

Keep it together.

Stay clean.

Don’t break my heart again.

“Just make sure that future wife of yours doesn’t kick your ass on level ten like last month or I’ll have to disown you,” Matt said.

Matt could hear the smile in Tommy’s voice. “You got it.”

TWO

Two days
later Callie studied Matt as he drove her Toyota out of New Orleans. It had been a long time since Callie had been so curious about a guy. Matt was friendly, charming, and sexy enough to eat with her fingers. There’d been no sign of embarrassment at being caught staring at her cleavage.

Even now the memory left her body vibrating with energy.

But a lingering hint of hesitation clung to him, a reserve that was fascinating. Intriguing. He’d shown up at the reception two nights ago with
goal
written all over his face.

They’d been traveling for about an hour now, but hadn’t had a chance to talk much about business. Callie had been too busy directing him around town to potential parks to use as the site for the
Dungeons of Zhorg
weekend. The first two were mostly a bust. But she had high hopes for the one they were heading to now.

She’d asked Matt to drive, explaining she needed to take notes while they discussed the plans for the event, listing out the pros and cons of the two sites they’d just checked out. But the excuse sounded lame, even to her. Especially considering she spent half her time giving Matt directions. But she didn’t care. Because with his attention on the traffic, and her vantage point from the passenger seat, she was free to enjoy the view.

And she wasn’t talking about the city she loved.

Matt’s lean, muscular frame filled the driver’s seat of her car. Given the heat wave that had settled in yesterday, he’d wisely chosen to wear shorts. Shorts that allowed a view of hard thighs. Muscular calves.

He’d had to push the seat all the way back to allow room for his long legs. His olive-colored T-shirt clung to a broad set of shoulders and biceps that flexed with every turn of the steering wheel. Not grossly big. More like well-defined and...just right. Enticing. Callie preferred the casual clothes to Friday night’s slacks and button-down. Because today he looked more relaxed. He also looked as though he’d gotten some sleep.

A large truck ahead of them whipped into their lane, and Matt reacted instantly to avoid the hit. No cursing. No frazzled look. Not even an indrawn breath or a frown for the dangerous driver.

Just like Friday night, when he’d shown up so focused, he employed a plan-and-attack mantra while driving.
Goal
written all over his face. Focused. Decisive. He never hesitated. And he had lightning-fast reflexes, if the maneuver he just pulled was anything to go by. They turned into the parking lot of their next potential venue, a grassy park on the outskirts of town.

Matt turned off the car and glanced at Callie, and she realized he’d just caught her studying him. Very closely. And thoroughly.

“Is this the equivalent of me staring down your cleavage?” he asked.

She ignored the heat thrumming through her veins and exited the car, missing the air-conditioning already and waiting for him to follow suit to respond. “Just admiring your quick reflexes.”

From across the roof of her Toyota, his lips quirked. “So you were checking out my...skills.”

She bit back a smile. “We have a lot of planning to do, Mr. Paulson.”

“Matt.”

“Matt,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m just trying to figure you out. And decide whether you’re gonna be the guy who makes my job easier or harder.”

Normally she meant the words in the sense of a client being difficult. Hard to please. And far too demanding in their wedding-day wishes. Or incapable of making up their mind.

With Matt she knew the decisions would come quickly and decisively. Yep, with Matt the easier or harder delineation was based on Callie’s ability, or inability, to stay focused with such a fine specimen of male anatomy on display.

“What have you decided?” he asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said with a tiny grin. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

After a few beats filled with a scorching temperature courtesy of New Orleans’s latest heat wave and Matt’s assessing gaze, he gave a sharp nod and headed up the brick walkway.

Fortunately the path was lined with oaks providing shade from the relentless sun. The playground to their left hummed with the activity of a few families crazy enough to brave the temperatures. An ice-cream truck was parked along the curb. The beautifully maintained park was clearly well run, the amenities nice. Even the current weather had been addressed. Misting machines with large fans had been set up along the path in front, providing blessed relief from the heat.

A drop of sweat trickled between her breasts and she ignored the long, lean legs of Matt as he walked beside her. The view wasn’t helping her struggles with heat stroke.

“So there’s a large private area of the park that is available for rent on the dates we need,” she said. “This place is a little farther out of town than I wanted, but there’s ample parking.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she kept her focus forward as she came to a stop at the field.

She pointed at the outdoor building sitting in the middle of the field. “The pavilion can be used as the main structure and where the food will be served. We’re going to want the restrooms close by, even if it does ruin the medieval feel.”

“Better to ruin the Middle Ages feel than contract cholera.”

Callie smiled but continued on, “There’s more than enough space to set up the tents and the sites for the various games.” She studied the grassy field, a natural border provided by oak trees. “We can set up the gaming tent over here.”

He shot her another appreciative glance, and this time she couldn’t resist.

“What?” she said.

“You’ve already given this a lot of thought.”

“We don’t have much time.”

Matt leaned back against the oak. “Why did you agree to arrange this event?”

“It’s my job. This is what I do.”

He hesitated and crossed his arms as if settling in to wait for a better reason. Callie longed for a cool breeze, or heck, just a breeze would do. Anything to lower the temperature brought about by the Southern climate and Matt’s disturbing eyes.

“Because I owe Colin,” she said. “Our breakup was...complicated.”

Translation: I screwed up big-time
.

“But we’ve managed to remain friends,” she went on. “And he’s a regular contributor to my blog,
The Ex Factor.
”

At his look of confusion, a grin slid up her face. “It’s a he-said, she-said column where readers can pose questions and we offer opinions from our unique perspectives.”

“Is that the only reason you agreed to take this on? Because your ex helps you out?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

He squinted across the field. “I’m sure you have better ways to spend your time than arranging a weekend LARP event.”

Was he speaking for her or for himself?

Callie nibbled on her lower lip and looked across the field. How to explain? Because if her business became successful enough, everyone would forget about her mistake in college? Because maybe, just maybe, if she landed a big enough event with the proper publicity, her parents would stop waiting for her to muck up again?

She liked her life, damn it. And while she hadn’t left for college with the plan of losing her scholarship and getting kicked out, she was delighted with what she’d built. She was happy,
proud
of all she’d accomplished despite her initial flub.

Now if she could only convince her family to be proud, too....

She pushed the thought away and shrugged. “Every little bit of publicity is good for business.”

Matt studied her with those observant brown eyes that always set her on edge, mostly in a good way. Making her aware of what she wore. Making her aware of what she said. Normally she focused on business or was totally relaxed. Then again, her clients usually consisted of happy couples or middle-aged parents. Dreamy
eligible
men didn’t knock on her doors wanting her services. And it was a little disturbing to be second-guessing every little thing as she went.

And if he thought her answer to his question was bull, he didn’t say.

When she couldn’t take those eyes studying her anymore, she turned her attention back to the field before them. “It’s more than we need, but I think this works perfectly. You agree?”

“You’re the expert.”

“I’m sure I’ll have to remind you of that sometime in the future.” She lifted her hair from her neck, longing for a cool breeze. “Let’s head back before you’re treating me for heat stroke.”

The walk back toward the car was even more uncomfortable, the sun now higher in the sky. Matt’s silence and his occasional glances left her thinking he planned to quiz her further. And with the hot temperature, and the hotter gaze—not to mention the zillion questions she saw in his eyes—didn’t make for a comfortable walk. Perhaps she should do a little quizzing of her own.

“So, tell me why you got elected to travel to New Orleans to arrange a wedding,” she said.

His lips twisted wryly, but he didn’t answer right away, so she went on.

“Over the years, I’ve worked with mothers, fathers, sisters and friends of the bride,” she said. “But I’ve never worked with the brother of the groom before.”

An amused light appeared in his eyes. “It’s an honor to be your first.”

She kept her gaze on his profile as they headed up the walk, the sound of the misting fans droning ahead. “Which doesn’t answer my question.”

“I told you, Tommy and Penny are up in Michigan. They both have jobs they can’t afford to lose. And I happen to have the time.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Dead.”

A pang of sympathy hit, and she studied his expression, looking for clues to his thoughts. There weren’t any.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-one. The year Tommy turned sixteen.”

Leaving you in charge,
she didn’t say. Raising a teenager when Matt was barely past the stage himself had to have been a massive struggle.

Turning the news over in her head, Callie headed for one of the few massive fans that didn’t have kids hopping up and down in front of it. A large oak provided shade and when she stepped closer to the machine, the cool mist hit her skin, and Callie almost groaned in relief. A fine spray of water coated her face, her neck, and her T-shirt and shorts. But she didn’t care.

With the way Matt looked at her, a hosing off wouldn’t be out of order.

“Where are Penny’s parents?” she asked.

“They disowned her four years ago.”

Disowned?
Her eyebrows shot higher, but Callie held her tongue, despite the curiosity. What kind of parent abandoned their kid?

When she didn’t respond, the buzz of the huge fan filled the air, and Matt shot her a look. “She’s a recovering drug addict.”

No wonder. The news explained the edge she sensed churning just beneath the surface of one Mr. Matt Paulson.

“That must be hard on your brother,” she said.

Matt turned and faced the fan, closing his eyes and letting the mist hit his face. “He’s a recovering addict, too.”

She lingered on his profile as the words and everything he
hadn’t
said settled deep. So much tension. So much emotion. She couldn’t read the thoughts in his expression but they were present in the taut shoulders, the flat line of his mouth. His short, sandy hair grew damp and curled at the edges, just above his ears. His bangs, thicker than the rest of his hair, developed a wave as water accumulated. The drops left a sheen to his skin, his throat and those lovely, lovely arms.

Matt definitely had the sexy shtick down pat. A wet Matt? Even more so.

“Sad that Penny’s parents won’t forgive her,” she said.

“They have their reasons.” Matt didn’t open his eyes, just continued to enjoy the cooling mist. Or pretended, anyway. “She put them through a lot. Lying. Stealing. Disappearing for weeks on end until they weren’t sure if she was alive or dead from an overdose. I’m sure they just couldn’t take it anymore. They’re just trying to protect themselves.”

Had Matt tried to protect himself?

“But still...” she said. She knew what it was like to screw up. Not in as grand a fashion as a drug addiction. Her screwup was tiny in comparison. But she knew how it felt to work hard to overcome your mistakes, only to have nobody let you forget.

“Now she’s clean,” she said.

“She’s been clean before.”

Callie let out a scoff. “‘My good opinion once lost is lost forever.’”

He opened his eyes, and that brown gaze landed on hers, sending a self-conscious flush up her face. She could read the question and surprise in his expression. She hadn’t meant to wear her own struggles quite so clearly, or to sound quite so personally invested.

She shrugged, trying to ease her discomfort. “Just a quote from Mr. Darcy, from
Pride and Prejudice.
” When he didn’t comment, she went on, “My favorite book.”

On her thirteenth birthday her mother had taken her to the library and she’d checked out the paperback. She’d spent the next two days glued to the book, her mother practically dragging her from her room to come eat dinner. Growing up poor meant Callie could relate to the Bennet sisters. She’d admired Lizzy’s courage and her determination to marry for love only, despite the very real risk of poverty, causing Callie’s transformation from a total tomboy into a romantic. The book had had such an impact, she’d spent the weeks after imaging Lizzy and Darcy’s wedding, and she’d developed a passion for bridal magazines and picturing the perfect ceremony.

Starting Fantasy Weddings had been a natural extension of that passion.

“I’ve never read
Pride and Prejudice,
” Matt said.

“I’m not surprised.”

A lull in the conversation followed, and she wanted to ask about Matt’s experiences with his brother, to learn the details about the current state of the relationship between the two. However, Callie sensed asking anything more would go over like a hot toddy during a heat wave.

“How did Tommy and Penny meet?” she asked.

“As total geekster gamers and pros at your ex’s zombie apocalypse game, they were selected as beta testers for
Dungeons of Zhorg.
That was how they met online. And then they discovered they’d fought the same addiction, and eventually fell in love. I think—” He pursed his lips. “I think the game helped keep them from slipping. Gave them something to focus on.”