“This guy knows someone who knows him and recommended you to be his wedding planner. The guy that wants to hire you is a billionaire marrying some model or something. I haven’t had a chance to dig into the details, but how cool is that?”
“What?” I asked, not completely believing her. “Are you giving me shit? I’m in no mood to be teased. I’ve got boob sweat and behind-my-knees sweat, and I can’t handle your jokes.”
“I’m not joking!” she protested. “This is real.”
“Like really real?”
She nodded.
“Why would they call me?” I asked, shaking my head. “Am I even in any of the directories?”
“Cherie Sanders! I’m not kidding. This is real! You’ve made it!”
I frowned at her, studying her face and looking for any of her usual tells. I didn’t see any, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. She was a prankster, always laughing and joking. It was very hard to take her seriously, which was usually a good thing. She was the lighter side to my very serious nature. I needed her to balance me out.
“Really?” I said again, my mind starting to believe it. Excitement was making me even hotter than I already was.
“Yes, really. The guy’s assistant called me on my way back. You have an appointment to meet with him tomorrow at his fancy high-rise office in downtown.”
I stared at her, my mouth hanging agape as I let it sink in. “You’re not kidding,” I stated.
She grinned, slowly shaking her head back and forth. “I’m not kidding. Girl, do you understand what this means?”
I nodded. “A huge budget. Endless possibilities. I can throw the wedding I’ve always dreamed about planning.”
She laughed. “Most women fantasize about planning their own dream wedding.”
I waved a hand. “I’ve planned my own wedding a million times, but it’s the husband part that gets me. There is no man on this earth I want to marry.”
“You just haven’t found him yet.”
“Okay, back to business. Tomorrow is the appointment?” I pulled up my calendar on my tablet.
“Yes.”
“Good, you have to go with me,” I murmured.
“The Wilsons’ cake testing is tomorrow,” she reminded me. “They called yesterday, remember?”
“Shit. I forgot.”
“You have to take the billionaire,” she insisted. “He needs to meet you personally—not your assistant.”
“Okay,” I said, already putting the appointment on my calendar.
“This is so exciting,” she squealed. “This is the big one. This is you finally making it!”
I sipped the lemonade, letting the cold liquid slide down my throat, and envisioned it pouring over my body. “I like word-of-mouth advertisement,” I said with a laugh. “It’s free and you never know who knows who.”
She laughed. “I told you that wedding was awesome. I knew that was going to put you on the map. Once you get this wedding done, everybody is going to know your name and want to hire you for their own wedding.”
“We can get a bigger office in a building that has a working AC!” I exclaimed.
“Yes! And a break room with a coffee machine!”
I laughed. “Big dreamer.”
“Seriously, I cannot wait to see what this is going to be.”
I grimaced, everything she had said starting to sink in. “You said a model. What if she’s a total diva?”
Tara shrugged. “One diva is better than two. Remember the two guys with the South Beach Extravaganza wedding?”
I groaned. “Don’t remind me. Two divas. I think they both watched way too many episodes of Bridezilla and copied everything they saw. Those two were by far the most difficult couple I’ve ever worked with.”
“But you did it and the wedding was—how did they put it—fabulous,” she said with jazz hands.
I laughed. “I suppose you’re right. One little model isn’t going to be too hard to handle.”
“I’ll grab my laptop and we’ll go over the Wilson wedding. I know they’re going to ask a million questions tomorrow.”
I nodded as she walked out. I took a second to gloat in my victory—assuming I actually got the job. I was going to have to make sure my portfolio was in good shape. It was my resume. My cheesy brochures weren’t updated. The color printing was expensive, and I still had a couple hundred sitting in a box. Once I got through those, I could order new ones with some of my recent weddings. If I did land the billionaire’s wedding, I could spring for real advertisement.
Tara came back in and took her seat on the opposite side of my desk. We got to work for another hour before I had to call mercy. I couldn’t take the heat.
“Why don’t we head over to the bar and drink some icy margaritas while we work?” I suggested.
“Oh, I like the sound of that. I’m such a lucky girl to have such a cool boss.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“I’ll grab my purse before you change your mind,” she said, jumping up with her laptop and scurrying out of my office.
I shut my computer down, stuffed my tablet and laptop into my bag, and headed out. I needed cool air. I was used to the Miami heat, but not when I was in my office. We settled in at the bar, deciding work was not really on the menu and leaving our bags at our feet for the time being.
“So good,” Tara said, sipping on the strawberry margarita.
“So cold,” I agreed.
A man took the seat next to me. “You ladies look like you’ve had a long day,” he commented.
I smiled at him. “We have.”
“I’ll buy the next round,” he offered.
“Thank you, but we’re good. I think we’ll be leaving.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
He took his drink and walked away. I continued to drink my margarita when I felt Tara staring at me. “What?” I asked, wiping my mouth in case there was something on my face.
“He was totally hitting on you,” she said.
I scrunched up my nose. “No, he wasn’t.”
“Yes, he was, and you totally blew him off.”
I shrugged. “I’m not interested.”
“How do you know? You didn’t give him a chance. He was wearing a nice suit, looked to be in his thirties, had all his teeth and a full head of hair. What more do you want?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s your idea of a good man? What about funny, romantic, and ambitious?”
“Well, hell, why don’t you add in a good cook, an excellent house cleaner, and great in bed?” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Those are also good traits,” I agreed.
“Oh my god. You’ve set the bar too high. You don’t just find a guy like that. You would have more luck making your own Frankenman.”
I grinned. “There’s an idea.”
“You have to make some compromises, or you’re never going to find a husband.”
“I’m not interested in finding a husband,” I told her. “How many of the weddings we planned have already ended in divorce? I don’t want to waste my time on something that will never last. I like my life. I like being independent and doing what I want, when I want.”
Tara didn’t believe me. I could tell by the look on her face. Fortunately, she didn’t press the issue. I wasn’t interested in getting my heart broken again. It had happened once and that was more than enough for me. I was still hung up on the man that had ruined me for all others. I didn’t think I would ever get over him.
He had been my high school sweetheart, but it was much more than puppy love. I had loved him with my whole heart. He obviously didn’t feel the same way. He’d up and left for the military without looking back. He had everything and left me with nothing. The reasons for his leaving didn’t matter.
Nope. Never again. I liked my heart intact. I didn’t want to feel sad or depressed because I got dumped. I decided I didn’t like the feeling and was therefore not going to put myself in the position to be hurt again.
I had been told more times than I cared to count that I would never find real happiness if I didn’t put myself out there, but I was calling bullshit on that.
I was happy. I loved my job. I loved my freedom. That made me plenty happy, and in my eyes, it was very real. I didn’t need a man to complete me. One day, I would be a successful business owner. That was my life goal. Unlike a lot of my friends, I didn’t gauge my happiness or success by the man on my arm.
Chapter 3
Evan
I browsed through my email, replying to a couple of the personal messages congratulating me on my pending nuptials. It seemed like every person I had ever had any kind of professional dealing with had sent me a quick note wishing me luck. It was nice, but the messages were more of a cursory nature than a heartfelt good luck.
I felt like it had been all about the wedding, all the time since I had asked her to marry me. It didn’t help that about three seconds after she said yes, she posted a picture of the ring on Instagram with the hashtag #isaidyes. It was not how I conducted my life, but it was how Amber stayed relevant. She overshared. It was one of the things we often argued about. We had come to an agreement that my life was off-limits. When she posted pictures of our time together, she only included my hand or maybe shoulder. Even that was too much in my opinion.
It was a compromise I made to keep her happy. Happy wife, happy life. She wasn’t my wife as of yet, but when we did say the words, I wanted to keep on being happy. I liked happy. I liked easy. I hated drama. My phone alerted me to a text.
I opened the message to see a picture of Amber in a very tiny piece of lingerie with the words “you like?” included.
She was a beautiful woman. Stunning. I replied to the message before putting the phone down. I wasn’t sure what time it was there, but I assumed she was wrapping up a shoot. She was probably getting ready to go out clubbing. If I ever wanted to find my fiancée, all I had to was check social media or TMZ. The woman loved cameras and the cameras loved her.
I went back to my email, replying to the well-wishers and shooting down the requests for interviews with the various media people. I still couldn’t understand why anyone really cared. They didn’t know me or her. Being thrust into the world of celebrity had been a culture shock. I had gotten the idea I could be wealthy and successful without anyone actually knowing who I was.
“Idiot,” I mumbled.
“Your appointment is here,” my assistant buzzed into the quiet comfort of my office.
I looked at the clock. “What appointment?” I asked, convinced I had nothing on my schedule until the afternoon.
“The wedding planner. David told me to put it on your schedule.”
I cringed. “That’s right. Give me about three minutes please.”
I had no idea what I was supposed to do with a wedding planner. I didn’t know the first thing about planning a wedding. I didn’t know what I was supposed to tell the planner we wanted. I knew the date and Amber had given me a list of things she wanted to tell the planner, but it was like taking notes in Greek. I didn’t know what half of what she said was and was hoping the planner did. I had been up late talking to her last night and then spent the rest of the night trying to imagine my life as a married man.
I grabbed the yellow pad from my briefcase and flipped through until I found my frantic notes. I could barely read my own writing. She’d been rambling on and on. I knew I had missed a lot of what she had told me, but I was hoping she could fill in the blanks when she got back into town.
I looked at the top line on my list. “Valentine’s Day,” I muttered. She wanted a wedding that didn’t interfere with her spring fashion shows and she didn’t want to wait until summer. She’d gone on about the holiday ensuring I would never forget our anniversary. That was actually a very good idea because I had a feeling I would.
I looked at the next item on the list and couldn’t stop the eye roll. She had come up with her theme as well, which made me a little sick to my stomach. Luxury Love could mean anything. That was something I was leaving to the planner and Amber to figure out. It sounded like a bad porn movie to me, but Amber was thrilled with the idea.
“Two hundred people,” I groaned. She had said she wanted to keep it small. My idea of small was twenty people. She thought two hundred people was small. I didn’t know two hundred people. Technically, I knew that many people, but not the kind I would invite to something in my personal life. Amber liked big and showy and flashy with everyone watching.
I was far more private. I needed my privacy. I only had a few short months before my life would change forever. Once I married Amber, I would never have a moment of privacy again. I blew out a breath and pushed back the nerves. I promised Amber I would do my best to relay all her wishes to the planner. Amber deserved the best and I would do everything in my vast power to make sure she got it.
The door opened while I was still focused on the list, trying to read a particular word. “Sir,” I heard my assistant say.
I looked up to greet my new wedding planner and froze.
Cherie Sanders. In the flesh.
I looked to my assistant, wondering why the hell she had brought Cherie into my office. I hadn’t seen her since the summer after high school graduation. She had rejected me. Broke my fucking heart. She’d been the woman who’d nearly broken me.
I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I jumped to my feet, wondering why she was there. She was about the last person I ever expected to see again. I had never stopped thinking about her, but I had told myself she was a part of my past. All I had were the images and memories of the girl from my hometown. And now, she was standing in front of me, live and in person.
Given the look on her face, she was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. “What are you doing here?” I asked her, finally finding my voice.
“I’m supposed to be meeting a client.”
“Client?”
“I’m a wedding planner. I’m supposed to be meeting someone here. I think I have the wrong office.”
She turned to look at my assistant, who shrugged. “I have you on the calendar to meet with Evan. I’ve blocked out an hour for the meeting. Will that be adequate?”
“You’re my wedding planner?” I practically shouted.
“You’re my client?” she gasped.
I almost said no. I should have said no. In that moment, I got a tiny glimpse into my future. It was summed up with one giant red octagon. Stop. Do not proceed. Turn around.
“I’m your client,” I heard myself say. “You’re here to see me.”
I watched her face as the understanding sank in. Wouldn’t she know who she was meeting with? She didn’t even remember my name? That hurt. It hurt and then it infuriated me.
“I—they—but—” she stammered. “I didn’t know it was you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You forgot my name but not my face?” I asked.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” my assistant murmured before quickly leaving the office and closing the door behind her.
“I didn’t forget either,” she said in a haughty tone. “I wasn’t given a name. I was only told to come here. I didn’t know it was you. I could never forget either.”
That made me feel slightly better. At least she remembered me. I wasn’t sure how to take that or what it meant. I took a second to process it all. Shock had wiped my brain. I could barely remember my own name. “I didn’t know,” I said the only thing that came to mind.
“You didn’t know you were meeting with a wedding planner?”
“I didn’t know you were a wedding planner. The wedding planner.”
She shrugged. “That’s me. I understand if you would like to find another planner.”
I needed a wedding planner and that was what she was. Maybe it would be easier to plan my wedding to another woman with the woman that had shattered my heart. “Okay.”
“Okay?” she murmured through beautiful, plump lips that I remembered being soft and very good a
t kissing.
“We have a meeting. I need a planner. Have a seat please.” I gestured to the chair across from my desk, taking my own seat.
I watched as she visibly collected herself. “Thank you.”
She sat down and looked at me with those big, dark eyes that had a slightly exotic look. Her dark hair fell in wavy lengths over her shoulders. She was as I remembered, stunning. Her womanly body had matured, filling out even more than it had been in high school. I missed curves. Cherie had curves for days. The kind that could fill a man’s hands, give him something to hold and caress.
“So, a wedding?” she asked, pulling me out of the dangerous fantasy world I had been heading into.
I smiled. “Yes, a wedding.”
She pulled a tablet from her sleek black bag. “All right. I wasn’t given a lot of information. Actually, all I was told was a billionaire was marrying a model and soon. I guess that makes you the billionaire.”
She looked up and smiled at me. I couldn’t help but smile in return. I opened my mouth to give her the date, but that wasn’t what came out. “You look good, Cherie, really good.”
She blushed, her eyes dropping down to the tablet before looking back up at me. “Thank you. You’ve done well for yourself.”
I shrugged. “I’ve done all right. I guess a lot has changed since the summer of oh-four, but you haven’t.”
“I have changed,” she replied, her tone stiff. “I’d love to catch up with you, but I have another appointment later. I understand you want this wedding to happen in the next few months. Every minute counts at this point.”
She was being aloof, like she didn’t want to take that walk down memory lane with me. I assumed she didn’t want the memories because she had made new ones with someone else. I was old news. I couldn’t help but look at her wedding ring finger. I wanted to know if she was married or maybe engaged. No ring. That made me oddly happy. I had no business looking, considering she was there to plan my wedding.
“You’re right,” I said with a nod. “Where do we start?”
“First, I need to know the date. Have you picked one?”
Heart Breaker Page 2
