by Carla Luna
When they reached the tiled fountain where they’d first begun their walk, Rafael stopped and reached into his pocket. He took her hand and placed a nickel in her palm. The touch of his large, calloused fingers made her shiver. “Make a wish,” he said.
She closed her eyes, flung the nickel into the fountain, and wished without thinking. I wish I could be with you.
A complete waste of a wish. It didn’t matter that they were both single. Or that he was no longer her enemy. She couldn’t get involved with him. Her father would see it as a sign of weakness. Another mistake, like her affair in Paris.
If Ben found out, he wouldn’t approve either. Just because he’d tossed her aside didn’t mean he wanted to see her with anyone else. Not that she gave a damn what he thought. But he’d accuse her of being unprofessional and rat her out to her father.
She couldn’t afford any missteps. Which meant no getting involved with anyone, not until the wedding was over.
But when Rafael touched her arm, ever so lightly, the pull she felt eclipsed all reason. Despite all the years they’d been apart, her desire for him hadn’t diminished. What would happen if she threw caution to the wind and kissed him? Just the thought of it set her pulse racing.
“Wh…what is it?” she asked.
“I know we got off to a rough start, and I was a jerk at the tasting, but—”
“I deserved it. You had every right to be mad at me.”
“Let me finish.” His eyes met hers in a tender gaze that melted any traces of ice left around her heart. “I don’t want this wedding to be any more hellish for you than it has to be. So, I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to make this the most talked about, Instagram-worthy, white wedding in all of Southern California. Whatever you need—you can count on me.”
She stared at him in awe. “You mean it?”
“Absolutely. Ben and Missy won’t know what hit them. If you need help with the decorations, Araceli will gladly pitch in. Same with her sister.”
“I might take you up on that. Missy ordered twenty Christmas trees. Real ones, not fake. She wants them all decorated with silver and gold accents.” Every time Missy updated her wedding Pinterest board, Victoria got an alert. Not something she appreciated. “Why don’t you come up to my office? I can grab the notes from our last design meeting.”
“Araceli’s gonna love this. She was just telling me how pissed she was that she can’t have a Christmas tree in her apartment because her psycho cats keep messing with it.”
She wanted to hug him for being so accommodating. The grumpy guy who’d scowled at her after the tasting was gone. This was the guy she’d fallen for in Baja.
She led him up the stairs to the wing of the manor that housed a cluster of private offices. Most of the second floor was dark, somber, and weighed down with history, decorated with heavy cherrywood furniture, pretentious antiques, and faded Persian rugs. But she’d managed to personalize her office with potted bamboo palms, colorful accent pieces, and a wall filled with canvas prints.
“Take a seat.” She pointed to a mesh task chair in a funky shade of purple. While he sat, she flipped through the giant binder she’d created for the wedding.
“This is a great painting.” Rafael pointed to the oversize canvas that displayed the Eiffel Tower at sunset. “Did you get a chance to go back to Paris yet?”
“Not yet. But I plan to, eventually.” Even if her semester in France had led to her downfall, she’d never regret the five months she spent there.
“If you need a travel buddy, you should hit me up.”
His response surprised her. Not just for the familiarity of his tone, but for his interest in France. When she’d shared her stories before, he’d never mentioned wanting to visit. “Since when did you become a world traveler?”
“I haven’t been anywhere exciting yet, but I’m hoping to change that. Check out other cultures and try their food. France would be a great place to start. French cooking intimidates me, but I’d like to learn more about it.”
She hadn’t realized he was interested in expanding his culinary horizons. “Have you been experimenting with other cuisines?”
His whole face lit up. Like a little kid. “Yeah. I’ve only been doing it for a few years—since I moved back to Escondido. My brothers think it’s weird, but I love a good challenge.”
How was it possible that he was even more attractive than he’d been five years ago? He seemed more grounded. More responsible. Though no less sexy.
Forcing herself to focus, she located the pages with Missy’s sketches and handed them to Rafael. “Here. You can take these with you. I made extra copies, just in case. Missy’s ‘vision’ for the grand ballroom as her own personal winter wonderland.”
“Damn. Twenty Christmas trees. You weren’t kidding.” He gave her another of those heart-melting grins. “Was that how many you wanted when this was your wedding?’
“I just wanted four or five. Tastefully decorated. This is a whole forest.”
“Fess up. You wanted twenty.”
She started laughing. Hard. For the first time since she’d been assigned the wedding from hell, she could see the humor in it. She pulled up the browser on her computer. “You’ve gotta see her Pinterest board.”
“You mean your Pinterest board, Miss Blackwood?” He stood and leaned over her so he could look at the screen.
When he rested his hand on her shoulder, she quivered with longing. She wanted him to massage her neck and shoulders the way he’d done in Baja. Better than any massage she’d ever paid for. He was so close she caught a whiff of his citrusy aftershave. The warmth from his body heated her from the inside, making her wish they were both wearing considerably less clothing.
“What’s going on in here?”
At the sound of her father’s voice, a chill came over her.
Rafael didn’t miss a beat. He stepped back from her, then turned and extended his hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rafael Sanchez from Tres Hermanos. I’m honored to be catering the Cavendish-Macalister wedding for Blackwood Cellars.”
Her father blatantly ignored him and focused his attention on Victoria. “Is there a reason you’re meeting with him in your office? The boardroom would be more appropriate, as would any of our other meeting rooms.”
What did he think was going to happen? That she’d try to seduce Rafael once the door was closed?
“I…I just wanted to share Missy’s ideas with him. For the decor. His cousin might help us out. Missy’s design scheme is pretty elaborate.”
Her father scowled. “You’re saying you can’t handle it? I thought you had this under control.”
She kept her voice level, even as her heart raced with anger. “She wants twenty fully decorated Christmas trees. And so far, I haven’t been able to find anyone available to give them the attention they need.”
In response, she got a grunt. “See to it that you don’t run over budget.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Thankfully, the budget was sky-high, since Missy’s father was a wealthy real estate mogul who owned buildings all over Southern California. “Was there a reason you came looking for me?”
“Ben tried to reach you. He said you weren’t answering your phone.”
She raised her chin in defiance. “I never respond to outside calls when I’m in a meeting. You taught me that.”
“He needs you to call Missy. Apparently, there’s a crisis you need to deal with.”
Of course there is.
She gave him a sweet smile. “I’ll take care of it right away. Thank you.”
Rafael edged toward the door. “I should get going. Unless there’s anything else you need from me?”
“That should do for now,” she said. “I’ll text you the link for the Pinterest page so your cousin can see what she’s dealing with. Thank you for coming.”
“Thanks for the tour.” He offered her a watered-down smile, lacking the warmth he’d shown her earlier. Probably for the best, since she didn’t want t
o arouse her father’s suspicions. But she was sad to see him go. She would have liked a few more minutes alone with him.
Once he’d left, Victoria waited to see how her father would react. True to form, he frowned. “That fellow seemed a little shifty. I wonder if we can trust him.”
She mustered up all her reserve and replied as politely as possible. “I’m sure he’ll behave appropriately. This job means a lot to his family’s business.”
“I hope you’re right,” he muttered. “I didn’t like the look of him.”
As much as she wanted to speak up for Rafael, she held her tongue. If she went out of her way to defend him, her father might wonder why she was championing a man she barely knew. “I should find out what Missy wants. Is there anything else you need?”
“Once you have Missy squared away, you can work with June on the open house.”
“Right. She mentioned it on Friday. I’ll drop by her office this afternoon so we can review the details.”
“Good. I’m a little worried about putting her in charge, but at least you’ll be there all weekend, in case of a crisis.”
All weekend? Victoria had agreed to it last year, but she hadn’t been coordinating a huge wedding at the same time. For once, she had something on her calendar. “You said you’d only need me on Saturday. I already made plans to go to a Sunday matinee of The Nutcracker.”
One of her few social outings of the season and a tradition she rarely missed, since the show brought back fond memories of the ballet lessons she’d taken as a child.
“You’ll have to exchange your ticket or give it to someone else,” he said. “I want you there both days. We have a lot of events going on, and you need to ensure they run smoothly.”
She swallowed back her frustration. He’d done this to her before—saddled her with events even when she had other plans—but he’d gotten worse over the last few months. Like he was trying to put her in her place.
As if sensing her hesitation, his brow creased. “You do realize that working here is a privilege, right? I need to know I can count on you.”
She sighed. “Whatever you need. I’ll be there.”
At this point, it was easier to give in than challenge him. If anything, she should be grateful he’d stopped complaining about Rafael. But his initial reaction filled her with an uneasy dread. Given how controlling her father was, she could never let him find out she and Rafael had once been lovers. And in no way, shape, or form, could she ever contemplate a wild, passionate affair like the one they’d had in Baja.
Chapter 9
After her father left, Victoria took a moment to center herself. The relief she felt at gaining Rafael’s forgiveness had vanished, replaced by a growing sense of alarm. Like it or not, her attraction to him had come racing back, just as strong as it had been five years ago. If his flirtatious behavior was any indication, he felt the same way. He’d seemed pleased to learn they were both single.
Not an option. He’s completely off-limits.
Besides, keeping secrets from her family was damn near impossible, considering she worked for her father and still lived at home. After she’d graduated from college, she considered getting her own place. But moving out seemed so impractical. Her office was only ten minutes away, and she was hell-bent on saving money to pay off her father. Why fork out the cash to rent an apartment when she could live for free in a six-thousand-square-foot home in the hills?
Still, she was twenty-five. At some point, she needed to strike out on her own. Reclaim her life. Get out from under her father’s oppressive thumb.
She retrieved her phone from her desk and shuddered at the notifications. Three missed calls from Missy, followed by multiple texts, each one escalating in intensity. Fighting off a bone-deep sense of regret, Victoria called her back. “Missy? It’s Victoria.”
“About time. Where were you?”
“I was meeting with Rafael from Tres Hermanos, giving him an overview of the grand ballroom and the grounds of the estate. I thought he’d appreciate a full tour, since he’s never catered an event here before.” She wouldn’t apologize. Not when she’d been doing her job.
Missy gave a sultry laugh. “Mmm. He’s something, isn’t he?”
“Excuse me?”
“Rafael. He’s definitely easy on the eyes.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened as a rush of fiery-hot jealousy surged through her. But—as always—she maintained her poise. “I hadn’t noticed. But yes, I suppose he’s rather handsome.”
Rather handsome? She sounded like someone from a Jane Austen novel. Or a nineteenth-century schoolmarm.
Her best move was to pivot to the situation at hand. “I understand you’re dealing with a crisis. What can I do to help?”
“Can you come over? Now? It would be easier to explain that way.”
What issue was so monumental it couldn’t be explained over the phone? Unless Missy had decided to call off the wedding. Maybe she’d caught Ben cheating. At this point, Victoria wouldn’t put it past him. Even so, she couldn’t imagine Missy embracing the burden of single motherhood. The crisis had to be something else.
Though Victoria had plenty of other tasks on her plate, this wedding was her highest priority. She grabbed the binder from her desk. “I can be there in twenty minutes. Is that all right?”
“It’ll have to do,” Missy said.
Ungrateful, much? Victoria pushed past her irritation and headed out of her office. As she left the Blackwood Cellars Estate, she cued up one of her Mozart playlists, hoping the lively music would put her in a better frame of mind.
Missy lived with her parents in the ultra-rich, equestrian-friendly Los Ranchitos community of Temecula. Victoria gave her name at the gate, then ascended the hill to the entrance of the property. If she hadn’t grown up in a home of equal size and grandeur, she might have been impressed by the sprawling, Mediterranean-style mansion and the sweeping view it offered, but she’d seen enough Temecula Valley estates that few of them made an impact.
A uniformed housekeeper led Victoria into the kitchen, which was light and airy, done up in varying shades of beige. The granite countertops, the ceramic tile, the kitchen cabinets—all beige. Completely uninspired.
Missy sat behind a long breakfast bar, which was covered with Rubbermaid bins. Her reddened eyes and puffy face suggested a recent crying jag.
Victoria approached her with caution. “Are you all right?”
“No!” Missy pulled a wadded Kleenex out of her pocket and wiped her eyes. “I’m miserable. It’s so unfair.”
Victoria perched on a stool beside her. “What happened? Did Ben do something?”
Missy narrowed her eyes. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Give it up, Vicki. You’re never getting him back.”
Victoria didn’t rise to the bait, even though she loathed being called Vicki. Rather than respond with snark, she tried for a sympathetic tone. “If it’s not Ben, then what is it? The pregnancy?”
“I’m almost four months along, and I still have morning sickness. It’s supposed to be gone after the first trimester, but that’s just my cross to bear.” Missy gave a deep sigh. “The problem is my maid of honor. I thought I could count on her, but that selfish bitch deserted me when I needed her the most.”
Victoria said nothing, letting Missy continue with her tirade.
“Kaitlyn was supposed to come here this weekend to help me with all my wedding projects,” she said. “We were going to eat Christmas cookies and watch Hallmark movies and embark upon a crafting bonanza of epic proportions. But she informed me she has to go to a tech conference in San Francisco. Apparently, her boss decided he needs her there to give a presentation. She didn’t even argue. Just went along with it as if our weekend meant nothing to her.”
“Can you get your bridesmaids to help? Or some of your friends? I’m sure they’d love a weekend of crafting at your place.” Personally, Victoria thought it sounded like the seventh circle of hell, but maybe Missy’s friends would be
into it.
“Everyone’s busy with holiday events. Or with their families. I feel so abandoned.” She leaned in closer, blasting Victoria with the cloying aroma of her freesia-scented perfume. “Then I remembered I have you. Since you’re my wedding coordinator, you can help me out.”
Victoria refrained from explaining, yet again, that she was not a wedding coordinator. Her job was to coordinate events at the Blackwood Cellars Estate, not to manage every detail of Missy’s wedding. But the self-centered bride-to-be had ignored Victoria’s previous attempts to clarify her role.
Thank God she had a legitimate excuse not to spend a weekend holed up with Missy. “I’d love to help you ‘get crafty,’ but I’m running a couple of events on Friday and Saturday. Sorry.”
Not sorry.
“That’s fine. You can work on these during your spare time.” Missy stood, opened the first Rubbermaid bin, and pulled out a box. “This is a wedding-themed gingerbread house kit from Coriander+Clove, complete with a gingerbread bride and groom. It’s been custom designed to serve as a cardholder at the gift table. I also planned to make two gingerbread houses as accent pieces for the post-dinner cocoa station. And another one for the head table, with gingerbread people of the entire wedding party.”
Holy Mother of God. “You were going to build four custom-made gingerbread houses? Why didn’t you farm them out? I’m sure you could order something like this on Etsy.”
Missy scowled. “I’m sure I could. But I wanted to exude my own personal touch.”
“But four?” As a child, Victoria had attempted a gingerbread house once. It hadn’t gone well. She and Connor had given up and eaten all the candy.
“Moving on.” Missy opened the next bin and brought out a white glass ornament and a spool of crimson ribbon. “I’m using these ornaments as wedding favors. I wanted to give one to every guest, with their name written on it in gold calligraphy. The gold pens and the guest list are in the bin.”
This was sheer, unadulterated insanity. “Why didn’t you hire a calligrapher? There are people who do this as their job.”
