The Best Man & The Wedding Planner

by Teresa Carpenter

  Wonderful.

  Luigi invited her to sit in his truck while he got the Land Rover hooked up to be towed. She nodded and retrieved her purse. Zach walked her to the truck and held the door for her. The interior smelled like grease and cleanser, but it was neat and tidy.

  “From what I remember from my research of Italy, small is a generous adjective when describing Caprese. At just over a thousand residents, ‘tiny’ would be more accurate. I’m not sure it has a hotel if we need to stay over.”

  “I’m sure there’ll be someplace. I’ll ask Luigi. It’s starting to rain. I’m going to see if I can help him to make things go faster.” He closed the door and darkness enveloped her.

  The splat of rain on the windshield made her realize her ire at the situation had served to distract her from the looming storm. With its arrival, she forgot her schedule and just longed for sturdy shelter and a warm place to spend the night.

  A few minutes later the men joined her. Squeezed between them on the small bench seat, she leaned toward Zach to give Luigi room to drive. The first right curve almost put her in Zach’s lap.

  “There’s a bed-and-breakfast in town. Luigi’s going to see about a room for us there.” Zach spoke directly into her ear, his warm breath blowing over her skin.

  She shivered. That moment couldn’t come soon enough. The closer they got to town, the harder it rained. Obviously they were headed into the storm rather than away from it.

  Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a small garage. Lindsay dashed through the rain to the door and then followed the men inside to an office that smelled like the truck and was just as tidy. Luigi immediately picked up the phone and dialed. He had a brief conversation in Italian before hanging up.

  He beamed at Lindsay and Zach. “Bene, bene, my friends. The bed-and-breakfast is full with visitors. Si, the bad weather—they do not like to drive. But I have procured for you the last room. Is good, si?”

  “Si. Grazie, Luigi.” Zach expressed his appreciation then asked about the repairs.

  For Lindsay only two words echoed through her head: one room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE B AND B WAS a converted farmhouse with stone walls, long, narrow rooms and high ceilings. The furniture was sparse, solid and well worn.

  Lindsay carried the heavy garment bag to the wardrobe and arranged it as best she could and then turned to face the room she’d share with Zach. Besides the oak wardrobe there was a queen bed with four posters, one nightstand, a dresser with a mirror above it and a hardback chair. Kindling rested in a fireplace with a simple wooden mantel, ready to be lit.

  The bathroom was down the hall.

  No sofa or chair to sleep on and below her feet was an unadorned hardwood floor. There was no recourse except to share the bed.

  And the bedspread was a wedding ring quilt. Just perfect.

  Her mother would say it was a sign. She’d actually have a lot more to say, as well, but Lindsay ruthlessly put a lock on those thoughts.

  Lightening flashed outside the long, narrow window. Lindsay pulled the heavy drapes closed, grateful for the accommodation. She may have to share with a near stranger and the room may not be luxurious, but it was clean and authentic, and a strong, warm barrier against the elements.

  Now why did that make her think of Zach?

  The rain absorbed the humidity and dropped the temperature a good twenty degrees. The stone room was cool. Goose bumps chased across her skin.

  She lit the kindling and once it caught added some wood. Warmth spread into the room. Unable to wait any longer, she made a quick trip down the hall. Zach was still gone when she got back. He’d dropped off her luggage and had gone back for his. She rolled the bigger case over next to the wardrobe. She didn’t think she’d need anything out of it for one night.

  The smaller one she set on the bed. She’d just unzipped it when a thud came at the door.

  Zach surged into the room with three bags in tow.

  “Oh, my goodness. You are soaked.” She closed the door and rushed to the dresser. The towels were in the top drawer just as the innkeeper said.

  Zach took it and scrubbed his face and head.

  She tugged at his sopping jacket, glad now she’d thought to give it back to him. “Let’s get this off you.”

  He allowed her to work it off. Under the jacket his shirt was so damp it clung to his skin in several places. He shivered and she led him over to the fireplace.

  “Oh, yeah.” He draped the towel around his neck and held his hands out to the heat.

  “Take the shirt off, too,” she urged him. She reached out with her free hand to help with the task, but when her fingers came skin to skin with his shoulder she decided it might be best if he handled the job himself.

  To avoid looking at all the tanned, toned flesh revealed by the stripping off of his shirt, Lindsay held the dripping jacket aloft. What were they going to do with it? He handed her the shirt. With them?

  A knock sounded at the door. Leaving Zach by the fire, Lindsay answered the knock. A plump woman in a purple jogging suit with more gray than black in her hair gave Lindsay a bright smile.

  “Si, signora.” She pointed to the dripping clothes, “I take?”

  “Oh. Grazie.” Lindsay handed the wet clothes through the door.

  “And these, too.” From behind the door Zach thrust his pants forward.

  Okay, then. She just hoped he’d kept his underwear on.

  “Si, si.” The woman’s smile grew broader. She took the pants while craning her head to try to see behind Lindsay. She rolled off something in Italian. Lindsay just blinked at her.

  “She said the owner was sending up some food for us.”

  As if on cue, Lindsay’s stomach gurgled. The mention of food made her realize how hungry she was. It had been hours since they’d eaten on the plane. “Si.” She nodded. “Grazie.”

  The woman nodded and, with one last glance into the room, turned and walked down the hall.

  “You have a fan.” Lindsay told Zach when she closed the door. “Oh, my good dog.” The man had his back to her as he leaned over the bed rummaging through his luggage. All he wore was a pair of black knit boxer briefs that clung to his butt like a lover. The soft cloth left little to the imagination and there was a lot to admire.

  No wonder the maid had been so enthralled.

  And Lindsay had to sleep next to that tonight.

  “What about a dog?” He turned those whiskey-brown eyes on her over one broad, bare shoulder.

  Her knees went weak, nearly giving out on her. She sank into the hard chair by the fire.

  “Dog? Huh? Nothing.” Her mother had taught her to turn the word around so she didn’t take the Lord’s name in vain. After all these years, the habit stuck.

  He tugged on a gray T-shirt.

  Thank the merciful angels in heaven.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower. Don’t eat all the food.”

  “No promises.”

  He grinned. “Then I’ll just have to hurry.”

  He disappeared out the door with his shaving kit under one arm and the towel tossed over his shoulder.

  Finally Lindsay felt as though she could breathe again.

  He took up so much space. A room that seemed spacious one moment shrank by three sizes when he crossed the threshold. Even with him gone the room smelled of him.

  She patted her pocket. Where was her phone? She needed it now, needed to call the rental agency that very moment and demand a car be delivered to her. They should never have allowed a party outside the reservation to cancel. They owed her.

  The hunt proved futile. Her phone wasn’t in her purse, her tote or either suitcase. She thought back to the last time she’d used it. In the Land Rover, where it had been pitch-black. It must st
ill be in the vehicle.

  That was at the garage.

  There’d be no getting her phone tonight. Dang it.

  Stymied from making the call she wanted to, she took advantage of Zach’s absence to gather her own toiletries and yoga pants and long-sleeved tee she’d worn on the plane. And a pair of socks. Yep, she’d wear gloves to bed if she had any with her. And if she had any luck at all, he’d wear a three-piece suit.

  There’d be no skin-to-skin contact if she could help it.

  Loosen up, Lindsay. Her mom’s voice broke through her blockade. You’re young and single and about to share a bed with one prime specimen. You should be thinking of ways to rock the bed not bulletproof yourself against an accidental touch.

  How sad was it that her mother was more sexually aggressive than she was?

  Her mom was forever pushing Lindsay to date more, to take chances on meeting people. She’d been thrilled when Lindsay had started seeing Kevin again. She’d welcomed him; more, she’d invited him to family events and made a point of showing her pride in Lindsay and her success.

  Right, and look how that turned out.

  To be fair, Mom had been almost as devastated as Lindsay when Kevin showed his true colors. She may be self-absorbed but Lindsay never doubted her mom’s love. She wanted Lindsay to be happy and in her mind that equated to love and marriage. Because for her it was—at least during the first flush of love.

  Lindsay wanted to believe in love and happily ever after, but it was getting harder to do as she planned her mother’s sixth wedding. And, okay, yeah, Mom was right; Lindsay really didn’t make an effort to meet men. But that wasn’t the problem. She actually met lots of interesting men. While she was working, when it was totally inappropriate to pursue the connection.

  The problem was she was too closed off when she did meet a nice guy. After stepfather number two, she’d started putting up shields to keep from being hurt when they left. She and Kevin had been friends before they were a couple and when they’d split up, her shields just grew higher.

  She hadn’t given up on love. She just didn’t know if she was brave enough to reach for it.

  You’re in Italy for a month with a millionaire hunk at your beck and call. It’s the perfect recipe for a spicy summer fling. Every relationship doesn’t have to end with a commitment.

  Mom didn’t always practice what she preached.

  The food hadn’t arrived when Zach returned smelling of freshly washed male. He wore the same T-shirt but now his knit boxers were gray. She could only thank the good Lord—full-on prayer, here—that the T-shirt hung to his thighs, hiding temptation from view.

  “Bathroom is free,” he advised her.

  Her stomach gurgled, but he looked so relaxed after his shower and the storm had her so on edge she decided to get comfortable. Grabbing up the cache she’d collected, she headed for the door.

  “Don’t eat all the food,” she told him.

  “Hey, you get the same promise I did.”

  She stared at him a moment trying to determine if he was joking as she’d been. His features were impassive and he cocked a dark brow at her. Hmm. She better hurry just in case.

  The bathroom was still steamy from his visit. As she pulled the shower curtain closed on the tiny tub she envisioned his hard body occupying this same space. His hard, wet, naked body. Covered in soap bubbles.

  Oh. My. Dog.

  She forced her mind to the nearly completed seating chart to remove him from her head. But that, too, reminded her of him so she switched to the flowers. Christina had yet to decide between roses and calla lilies or a mix of the two. Both were beautiful and traditional for weddings.

  It may well depend on the availability. Christina wanted to use local vendors and merchants. She’d said it was for the people so should be of the people. Lindsay still puzzled over the comment. It was obviously the wedding, but what did she mean “it was for the people”?

  Was the royal wedding not a love match?

  Lindsay could ask Zach. He’d know.

  No. She didn’t want to know. It was none of her business and may change how she approached the wedding. Every bride deserved a fantasy wedding, one that celebrated the bond between her and the groom and the promise of a better future together. It was Lindsay’s job to bring the fantasy to life. The reality of the relationship was not in her hands.

  Her musings took her through the shower, a quick attempt at drying her hair, brushing her teeth and dressing. Fifteen minutes after she left the room, she returned to find Zach seated on the bed, his back against the headboard, a tray of food sitting beside him.

  The savory aroma almost brought her to her knees.

  “Oh, that smells good.” She dropped her things into her open case, flipped the top closed and set it on the floor before climbing onto the bed to bend over the tray and the two big bowls it held. She inhaled deeply, moaned softly. “Soup?”

  “Stew.”

  “Even better. And bread.” She looked at him. “You waited.”

  He lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Not for long. It just got here. Besides, we’re partners.”

  Her eyebrows shot up then lowered as she scowled at him. “We are so not partners.” She handed him a bowl and a spoon. Tossed a napkin in his lap. Then settled cross-legged on her pillow and picked up her own bowl. “In fact, I think I should arrange for my own car tomorrow. I need to get to Monte Calanetti and you have to wait for the Land Rover to be repaired, which could take a couple of days.”

  “Getting a car here could take longer yet. You heard the rental clerk. All the vehicles are being taken up by the media presence here for the wedding.”

  “Oh, this is good.” No point in arguing with him. She was an adult and a professional. She didn’t require his permission to do anything.

  “Mmm.” He hummed his approval. “Are you okay with sharing?”

  “The room?” She shrugged. “We don’t really have a choice, do we?”

  “The bed,” he clarified and licked his spoon. She watched, fascinated. “I can sleep on the floor if you’re uncomfortable sharing the bed.”

  “It’s hardwood.” She pulled her gaze away from him. “And there isn’t any extra bedding.”

  “I can sleep near the fireplace. It won’t be comfortable, but I’ll survive. We’re still getting to know each other, so I’ll understand.”

  Crack!

  Thunder boomed, making Lindsay jump and spill the bite of stew aimed for her mouth.

  “Dang it.” She grabbed her napkin and scrubbed at the stain on her breast. “Are you uncomfortable?”

  “No.” He took her bowl so she could use both hands. “But I’m a man.”

  Oh, yeah, she’d noticed.

  “If something happened between us, I’d be a happy man in the morning. You, on the other hand, would be satisfied but regretful.”

  She glared at him. “Nothing is going to happen.”

  He held up his hands, the sign of surrender blemished by the bowls he held. “Of course not.”

  “So there’s no reason not to share.”

  “None at all.”

  “It’s settled then.”

  “Yep.” He handed her bowl back. “Now you want to tell me what your deal is with storms?”

  * * *

  Zach watched the color leech from Lindsay’s cheeks, confirmation that his suspicions were right that her reaction to the thunderstorm exceeded the norm.

  She was nervous and jumpy, which was totally unlike her.

  Sure she’d gone ballistic when he’d sat on the wedding dress, but considering the cost of the gown she could be forgiven for hyperventilating.

  Generally he found her to be calm and collected, giving as good as she got but not overreacting or jumping to conclusions. Efficient but
friendly. The storm had her shaken and he wanted to know why.

  “Nothing.” She carefully placed her bowl on the tray. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re jumpy as hell. And it started before we got to the room so it isn’t the sleeping arrangements. It has to be the storm.”

  “Maybe it’s you.” She tossed the words at him as she slid from the bed. “Did you consider that?”

  “Nope.” His gaze followed her actions as she put the suitcase back on the bed and began to organize the things she’d dumped in. “We’re practically lovers.”

  Ice burned cold in the blue glare she sent him. “You are insane.”

  “Oh, come on.” He taunted her. “You know it’s going to happen. Not tonight, but definitely before the month is up.”

  “In your dreams. But I live in reality.”

  “Tell me about the storms.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” The jerkiness of her movements told a different story.

  “Okay. Have it your way.” He relaxed back against the wall and laced his arms behind his head. “I like storms myself.”

  “You like storms?” The astonishment in her voice belied her indifference. “As I said, insane. I’m going to take the tray downstairs.”

  Zach grabbed the bread and wine from the tray and let her escape. Pressing her would only antagonize her.

  He’d had nothing to do with the engine failure, but he approved of the results. If he were a man who believed in signs, he’d take it as karma’s righteous nod.

  He’d been playing with her when he’d alluded to them being lovers. Or so he thought. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he’d known the truth in them. He generally preferred leggy blondes. But something about the pixie appealed to him.

  Her feistiness certainly. At the very least it was refreshing. With his position, family connections and money, people rarely questioned his authority and never dismissed him. She’d done both. And still was.

  He had no doubt she’d try to make a break for it tomorrow.