The Best Man & The Wedding Planner

by Teresa Carpenter

  That surprised a bark of laughter from her; the moment of levity easing her rising tension. “Female. But thanks for that perspective. I guess it could have been worse.”

  “Bad enough. He hurt you.”

  “Yes. But only because I saw what I wanted to see.”

  “The possibility of a wedding for the wedding planner?”

  “How is it you can see me so clearly?” she demanded.

  It was uncanny how he saw straight to her soul. She hadn’t been half as sad at losing Kevin as she had been to lose a boyfriend with marriage potential. She wanted what she gave to all her clients. A lovely wedding, in a spectacular venue, with friends and family surrounding her as she pledged her love. She longed for it with all her heart.

  Kevin had stolen that from her. He’d given her hope, dangled the reality within her reach, only to yank it away. He was a user with no real affection or respect for her.

  He’d seduced her for her contacts. And, yeah, that hurt. Her pride had taken a huge hit and the experience had left her more relationship-shy than ever. But it had taken less than a week for her to recognize it was more work-related than personal. He could have damaged her reputation. She’d worked twice as hard since the breakup to make sure it didn’t happen again.

  And she shored up her defenses to keep from letting anyone close enough to use her again. Or hurt her.

  “Because it’s all right here.” Zach responded to the question about seeing her so clearly by stroking his thumb over her cheek. “There’s no deception in you, Lindsay. You’re open and giving and articulate.”

  “You’re saying I’m an open book. How flattering.” Not.

  “I’m saying there’s no artifice in you. When you interact with someone, they know they’re getting the real you—straightforward good or bad. Do you know what a gift that is? To know you can trust what’s being presented to you without having to weigh it for possible loopholes and hidden agendas?”

  “Politics,” she said dismissively.

  “School. Business. Friends. Dates.” He ran down a list. Then, too restless to sit, he rose to pace. “For as far back as I can remember I’ve known not to take anything at face value. My nannies used to praise me for being a good kid then lie about my behavior to get a raise.”

  “That’s terrible.” What a sad lesson for a child to learn. “You said you almost got close to a wedding. What happened? Is it what put you off big, fancy weddings?”

  “It never got that far.” He fell silent and fingered a wisp of lace edging a floor-length veil. Then he moved to one glittering with diamonds and, finally, to one of lace and the opalescence of pearls.

  As the silence lengthened, she knew an answer wasn’t coming. And then he surprised her.

  “Luckily I learned before it was too late that it wasn’t me she wanted but the Sullivan name.” The lack of emotion in his reply spoke volumes.

  He didn’t add more. He didn’t have to. After a childhood of indifference, he’d fallen for a woman only to learn she had more interest in his family name than in the man who carried that name.

  Lindsay felt his pain. Shockingly so. Meaning he was getting under her skin. That shouldn’t be happening; her shields were firmly in place. Zach just refused to acknowledge them. And he was getting to her.

  She wanted to know more, to ask what happened, but she’d been wrong to get so personal. They weren’t on a date. They were working. She had no right to dig into his past when she insisted theirs was a professional relationship.

  Yet she was disappointed. She rarely talked about herself, never exposed her heart like that. And he’d responded, obviously reluctant to share but reciprocating just the same. How unfair that life should send her this man when all her attention needed to be focused on her job.

  He lifted the lace-and-pearl veil and carried it to her.

  “What are you doing?” she breathed.

  Pulling her to her feet, he turned her and carefully inserted the combs of the veil in her hair. The exquisite lace flowed around her, making her feel like a bride even in a sleeveless beige-linen pant suit.

  “Imaging you as a bride.” His breath whispered over her temple. “What would you choose for yourself, Lindsay?”

  “I’m like you,” she said as he led her toward a three-way mirror. Why was she letting him do this? “I want small, intimate.”

  “But with all the trimmings?”

  “Of course. Oh, my.” The pearls on the lace gave it a glow. He’d placed the veil just under her upswept bun. The lace caressed her arms as it fell down her back in an elegant waterfall of tulle and lace and pearls. It had such presence it made her beige pantsuit appear bridal.

  The picture in the mirror stole her breath. Made her longing for what eluded her come rushing back.

  She’d hoped coming to Tuscany, managing the royal wedding, would help her get her wedding mojo back. Peering into the mirror she realized that would only happen when she opened herself to love again. Sweat broke out on her upper lip at the very notion of being that vulnerable.

  “I love the pearls against your sunshine-brown hair.” Zach brushed the veil behind her shoulder and met her gaze in the mirror. “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

  With him standing beside her in his dress shirt and black pants the reflection came too close to that of a bride and groom. Her heels brought her up to his shoulder. They actually looked quite stunning together.

  She swallowed hard and took a giant step backward, reaching up at the same time to remove the veil. She was in so much trouble.

  “I’m the planner, not the bride,” she declared. “I don’t have time to play make-believe.” Handing him the veil, she retreated to the couch and her purse. Time to put fanciful thoughts aside and call Christina’s aunt to set up an appointment on their way home.

  Because she’d liked the image in the mirror way too much for her peace of mind.

  * * *

  Just Lindsay’s luck. Christina’s aunt Pia couldn’t meet with them until five in the evening. She ran through her current to-do list in her head, looking for something she could check off.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Zach tugged on her ponytail. “You’ve worked nonstop this past week. We are due some rest and relaxation. We’re in the lovely city of Milan. I say we play tourist.”

  Okay, there were worse ways to spend the afternoon than wandering the streets with a handsome man on her arm.

  Lunch at an open café on the Naviglio Grande—a narrow canal with origins in the 1100s used to transport the heavy marble to the middle of the city where the Duomo di Milano was being built—was a true delight. As was strolling along the canal afterward and checking out the antique stores and open-air vendors.

  A lovely candleholder at a glassblower’s stall caught her eye. How perfect for the reception tables. They had a flat bottom and five-inch glass petals spiked all the way around to create a floral look. The piece had presence but was short enough to converse over without being in the way. And she loved that it came in so many colors. She wanted the one with spiking gold petals. It reminded her of sunflowers.

  “I’d like to order two hundred, but I need them within two weeks. Can you do that?” The young artist’s eyes popped wide.

  “Si. Si,” he eagerly assured her. “I have ready.”

  “Why so many?” Zach asked. “And don’t you already have candleholders with the royal crest on them?”

  “Yes, but I think the clear glass bowls etched with the royal crest will sit nicely right in the middle of these and be absolutely gorgeous with a candle inside. A win-win.” She got a beautiful, unique presentation that was both fragile and bold, and the palace got their staid, boring candleholders used.

  “That’s pretty genius.” He applauded her.

  “It’s my job to mix the styles and needs
of the bride and groom into a beautiful event that’s appealing to them individually and as a couple.”

  “I’m learning there’s more to this wedding planning stuff than I ever would have believed.”

  “Yeah. I’ll convert you yet.”

  “Now, that’s just crazy talk.”

  She sent him a chiding glance. “I want two hundred because I want plenty for my reception tables, but I also think the candleholders will make good gifts for the guests. What do you think, best man? Christina has pretty much left the decisions up to me and you’re Antonio’s stand-in. Do you think this would make a good gift for the guests to take away?”

  He blinked at her for a moment, clearly surprised to have his opinion sought. He rubbed his chin as he contemplated the candleholder she held. “It’s a pretty sophisticated crowd, but, yeah. Each piece is unique. That will appeal to the guests while the piece will also act as a reminder of the event.”

  “Then it will have served its purpose.”

  She turned back to the vendor. “In two weeks,” she repeated, needing to know his excitement wasn’t overriding his capabilities.

  “Si, si...due weeks. I work night and day.”

  Given he would be working with heat and glass, she wasn’t sure that was a good idea. She made a note in her tablet to check on his progress in a week. If he wasn’t going to make it, she’d adjust her order to cover the tables only. And just give the royal crest candleholders away as a gift. But she really hoped he could pull it off.

  She gave him her card with her email, asked him to send her a purchase order and advised him he’d have to sign a confidentiality agreement. His hand shook as he took the card, but he nodded frantically and handed Zach the package containing the sample she’d bought.

  Zach made the next purchase. A Ferrari California T convertible. She thought they were just window shopping when he dragged her to the dealership. There was no denying the cars were sexy beasts. And it seemed the height of luxury to have the showroom on the fifth floor.

  Even when Zach started talking stats and amenities, she blew it off. Nobody walked into a Ferrari dealership and walked out with a car. Or they shouldn’t. It was a serious investment and required serious thought.

  But Zach stood, hands on hips, surveying the slick car and nodding his head to whatever the salesman was saying. The portly man spoke English with such a thick accent she didn’t know how Zach understood him.

  “What color?” Zach asked her.

  Her turn to blink at him in surprise at having her opinion sought. “What?”

  “What color do you like better? The red or the black?”

  “Are you insane? You can’t just walk in here and buy a car.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can.”

  “But—”

  “I’ve been thinking of buying one,” he confessed. “I’m stoked at the idea of buying it here in Italy, from the original dealership. And it’ll be nice to have a car since the rental company hasn’t replaced the Land Rover yet.”

  She eyed the beautiful, sleek cars. “They’ll probably have it replaced before they can deliver one of these.”

  “Pixie, they could have a car ready in an hour. But they have one downstairs with all the amenities I want. I could drive it back to Monte Calanetti if I wanted.”

  “Oh, my dog. You’re serious about this.”

  He grinned, flashing his dimple and looking younger and as satisfied as a teenaged boy getting his first car.

  “It’s the California T series. I have to have one, right? I deserve something for closing the government deal. What color?” he demanded again.

  Okay, she got it. He sought a physical treat for recent accomplishments because he wasn’t getting any emotional accolades. Who could blame him? Not her.

  “Indeed you do.” Adjusting her mood to his, she glanced around the show room. “You don’t want red or black. Too cliché.”

  “I’d use the word classic.”

  “I like that pretty blue. It reminds me of the sea around Halencia. If you’re taking a souvenir home, it should represent where you’ve been.”

  “The blue.” His inclined his head, his brown eyes reflecting his appreciation of her comeback. “Hmm.” He strolled over to look it over better. “I’m not really looking for pretty.”

  “Is rockin’ a better adjective? More masculine? We can use that if you prefer, because it’s a rockin’ pretty blue.”

  “I like rockin’.”

  “But do you like the blue?”

  “I do. Though the classics are nice, too.”

  “They’re cliché for a reason.”

  “Signora.” The salesman flinched, unable to stay silent any longer. “Per favore, not say cliché.”

  “Scusa,” she apologized, sending Zach an unrepentant smirk.

  He said something in Italian to the salesman, who nodded and stepped away.

  “I have to do this,” he said, lifting her chin on his finger and lowering his mouth to cover hers as if he couldn’t wait another moment to taste her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE FLAVOR OF him filled her senses. Oh. Just, oh.

  She should protest, step away, remind him of their professional status. She did none of those things. Instead she melted against him, lifting her arms around his neck.

  How she’d missed his touch. She thrilled at his hands on her waist pulling her closer, at his body pressed to hers from mouth to knees, the two of them fitting together like cogs and grooves. This was more dangerous than watching their reflection in the mirror at Signora Russo’s. By far.

  Didn’t matter. She sank into sensation as she opened to him. More than she should in a Ferrari dealership. Or maybe not. They were hot cars, after all.

  A throat clearing loudly announced the return of the salesman.

  Zach lifted his head, nipped her lower lip.

  “Hold on.” She ducked her head against him, turning away from the salesman.

  “What are you doing?” He spoke gently and cradled her head. Perfect.

  “Saving you some money. Tell our friend over there that you’re sorry, but I’m totally embarrassed and want to leave.”

  He rattled off a few words of Italian. Predictably the salesman protested.

  She pushed at Zach, making a show of wanting to leave. “Tell him you’ll have to buy the car when you get back to the States because we’re leaving Milan tonight and probably won’t make it back here.”

  While he conveyed her message, she grabbed his hand and began pulling him toward the exit, carefully avoiding the salesman’s gaze.

  The salesman responded in a conciliatory tone, his voice growing closer as he spoke.

  “He just dropped the price by ten thousand dollars,” Zach advised her.

  She frantically shook her head and, holding his hand in both of hers, she bracketed his arm and buried her face in his shoulder. “Let’s see if we can get him to twenty. Shake your head sadly, put your arm around me and head for the elevator.”

  “You know I can afford the car.”

  “So not the point.”

  “What was the point again?”

  “Trust me. He’s not going to let you walk away.”

  He sighed, then she felt the movement of his head and his arm came around her. She leaned into him as they walked toward the elevator.

  “I can’t believe I’m leaving here without a car.”

  “You can always order it online and have them deliver it. If he lets you walk away.”

  “You owe me dinner for this.”

  They got all the way to the elevator before the salesman hailed Zach. He rushed over, all jovial and solicitous, giving his spiel as he approached. The elevator doors opened just as he arrived next to them. The man opened his arms wide
in a gesture that welcomed Zach to consider what a good deal was being offered.

  Zach nodded. “Si, avete un affare.”

  “You took the offer?”

  “I have. And you’re invited to visit the gift shop and pick out a gift while I finalize things here.”

  “Oh. Nice touch. Okay, you can buy the car.” She stepped into the elevator. “Don’t be long.”

  Thirty minutes later he collected her from the gift shop and they headed out. On the street he pulled her into his arms and gave her a long, hard kiss. Then he draped his arm around her shoulders and started walking.

  “That’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

  “How much?”

  “For twenty-five thousand less than quoted.”

  “Aha! So you owe me dinner.”

  “You have skills, Pixie.”

  “I have a few tricks. I’m always working with a budget whether it’s five hundred dollars or five million, so I’ve learned to negotiate for my job. I enjoy the challenge. You have money. You’re used to buying what you want without worrying about the cost.”

  “I’ve negotiated for my business.”

  “But that’s different, isn’t it? You’re on the sales side then, demanding value for services. When it comes to buying—”

  “I want the best regardless of price. It’s how I was raised.”

  “You were fortunate.” As soon as the words left her mouth she remembered what he’d said about people in his life always having an agenda even when he was a young child and how his parents brushed aside his success to make demands of him. Money didn’t make up for everything. She quickly changed the subject.

  “So, are you driving home? Am I visiting Christina’s aunt on my own?”

  “I’m going with you. I went with the blue car, which needed modified for some of the upgrades I wanted. They’ll be delivering the car in a couple of days. We have an hour before we need to meet the helicopter. Do you want to go see the cathedral?”

  He was right. Today had been fun. She couldn’t remember when she’d last let go and played for a day. She liked playing tourist. Wanted it to continue.