by Rissa Brahm
Getting her bearings, she took her face out of her phone and out of the man’s noticeably expansive chest. With a sigh, she stepped back. Peering up slowly, reluctantly, her eyes reached the face of her victim.
And she became immediately confused. Standing inches from her was a near duplicate of what had haunted her all night and all morning. It wasn’t Zack. This man’s vibe, his stance, his scent, and the color of his eyes, a deep chocolate brown, were all definitively different, but the uncanny resemblance in the rest of this man’s features freaked her out enough that she lost her words and her balance.
She stumbled back just slightly, but he caught her free hand. She steadied, sighed, and, looking down at their feet, she shook her head.
Get yourself together, for Christ’s sake. Reset. Act human.
She began to lift her head up, and as she did, she got an awakening view of the spreading dark blotch across the front of the man’s shorts, the crotch, and all the way down his legs. Lifting her gaze a bit further, an empty coffee cup in his grasp.
Then she heard some far-off voice, little, high-pitched, and garbled. Shit, Lucinda! Her hands fumbled, phone to ear. “So sorry, Lucinda. Yeah, I’m okay, just, well, can I call you back with that number? Three minutes…Thanks.” She hit “end” and looked back up to the face of her victim. “I am so, so sorry! What…how can I—?”
“It’s fine, really. If this is the worst thing that happens during my wedding weekend, I’m in damn good shape,” the man said, smiling sincerely, hands out in stoic surrender to his shorts.
In May and June, several weddings took place at the Bay View all at the same time, having as many ballrooms as they did. With a big dose of fear lacing her question, she of course had to ask, “You’re the groom of which wedding? I mean, congrats, and which wedding is yours? Because I’m actually coordinating a wedding here this weekend.”
“Oh, I’m Darren James, marrying the unbelievably amazing Amy Rine.”
Of course he was.
*
Isabel smiled widely, showing all teeth, absolutely overcompensating for the two-way torrent of anxiety shooting up and down her body. “Wow, huh, so…this is something. I’m Isabel Ruiz, your wedding planner.”
“Isabel! The Isabel? Mucho Gusto! Really great to meet you. God, Amy can’t say enough about you. You’ve already made things easier for her, and that, you know, makes things easier for me.” He cracked a brilliant white smile, just too similar to Zack’s for her to look at him for more than a moment before forcing her eyes away.
“Well, easier is only the start. Smooth, fantastic, perfect are all to come. And I agree, we should take this,” she said pointing at his coffee-stained crotch, “as a good sign. The worst is over. Just some ice, and you’ll be just fine for your wedding night,” she joked, but immediately felt her cheeks blush.
God, Isabel!
But Darren was very gracious, laughing at his own expense, despite the horribly embarrassing comment that flew out of her mouth.
“Well, listen, it’s so great to finally meet you. I’m gonna get inside to my groomsmen for some hardcore sauna time. We had a pretty hard night. You know, the bachelor party, too much alcohol, way too many strippers…so coffee”—he looked down—“and relaxation are the order of the day.”
Her head tilted, eyes narrowed, connection made.
Darren, Zack’s brother, and Darren’s groomsmen were at her bar last night with Zack. And they had moved on to the strip clubs without Zack? Zack chose to be with her instead?
Shit, Zack chose to be with her instead. He skipped a bachelor party, his brother’s bachelor party, and Destiny?
All to be with me.
And the whopping receipt was for his brother’s bachelor party. Again, the one he’d totally skipped.
For me! Her stomach churned.
“Okay, so…I’ll probably see you later then?” Darren broke her stunned train of thought.
“Right, yes. Have a relaxing day, and…I’m off to meet your bride-to-be!” Isabel yanked out a smile.
“Tell her I’m thinking about her, will you?” he said with the sweetest, most genuine expression on his handsome, practically glowing face—while her insides moaned with a tinge of unmistakable envy mixed with sadness and a touch of hope. Yes, hope, and happiness…for the couple.
“I absolutely will, and again, God, I’m just so sorry,” she said, waving to him as he made his way into the hotel to join his groomsmen and his brother, whom she’d been wrong about—again. And who was potentially falling for her, dangerous territory she knew, and who she’d have to be in close proximity to for the next several days for photos, rehearsals, fittings. Jesus.
She looked up to the rich blue, cloudless Vallarta sky. God, is this a joke? Zack, the brother of the groom, at my fucking event?
Her first big-ticket event, to boot. And she’d already slept with a guest, the best man, the brother of the groom!
*
Coño! Her mind spun.
She’d have to find Zack, get him in private, explain that they had to act like strangers, all past interaction forgotten. The end. For the sake of her career, her livelihood. And, not that she’d tell him this lest he think her insane, for his sake and safety. All done.
Which is what she thought she’d accomplished with her middle-of-the-night escape!
Okay. All would be fine. She could do this. She had no choice but to pull this off. And he wouldn’t have a choice either, damn it.
But all predictions in her gut pointed to inevitable chaos. If not played out in real life, then at least within her, more inner anarchy that she just didn’t need. How would she put out the emotional wildfire already sparked by Zack?
Oh God, Zachary James. She now remembered seeing his name on the guest list. Zachary James, who nearly burned her alive last night, igniting parts of her she’d never known. Now, when she had the most extravagant wedding of her life to pull off, she’d be in his scorching presence constantly, like Venus’ proximity to the damn sun.
Jesus, Isabel. Buck the hell up. It would only be a few days, and once this charade was over, he’d be on his private jet to wherever the hell he’d come from and she’d still have her job. Maybe even Lucinda’s entire company someday.
And he’d be long gone. Out of sight, out of mind.
Yes. That was best. Needed. Vital.
She smiled stoically. Fate, again with her sadistic sense of humor, had insisted on putting her and this temptation named Zachary James together again, scene after scene in her funny little play.
Well, fine. She’d pass this bitch’s cruel test this time. No fraternizing with the wedding guests. So she wouldn’t fraternize and erased her memory that she had. Fraternized. With Zack.
Zack. His name, how she’d whispered and screamed and moaned it only twelve hours ago. Forget it, Isa! Forget him. Preserving her job was key…and the perfect excuse for setting her boundaries solidly and keeping to them. Because explaining the real reason she couldn’t be with him, not possible. Telling a high-powered American businessman that she was cursed? A mortifying disaster. She honestly couldn’t stomach the look she imagined in his gorgeous sea-green eyes. Beyond disbelief, they’d reek sheer disgust, and just the thought made her shudder.
A car horn startled her back to reality. “Isa! I’ve got to make a quick run…you left something in the seat?” Antonio asked through his car window.
She squeezed all thoughts out with a long blink. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for waiting.” She slipped into the passenger seat.
“You okay? I saw you slam into that guy. You need to slow it down, m’ija!”
“Yeah, just too many things going on at once, I guess.”
“That was Darren James, the groom, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Her mind’s instant replay of the coffee spill made her eyes roll.
“Cool guy. Took him and his group to The Inferno last night. Funny guys. But his brother, I think his name is Zack, wasn’t with them, and he’s the rea
l big tipper. Met him at the airport, seems above the club scene anyway. Stand-up guy I think. Anyway, I like ’em both.”
She smiled in agreement as she switched her focus to the floor for her tape measure. She reached under the seat and felt around. “Ah-hah!” She pulled the thing out, threw it in her bag with her cell phone—“Shit, Lucinda! I promised to her call back”—she found the time on her cell screen—“four minutes ago, damn it!” She sighed then flick-flick-flicked and found Lucinda’s amongst her favorites.
“Hold it, little sister.”
Her pointer finger paused.
“What’s the deal here?” Antonio patted his dash. “What’s our plan?”
“Right…well, I still have to double check the bridal gown, then get Amy Rine to the church for her sneak peek all before the first airport pickup. Can you drive us to the church, or do you need to send another car for us?”
“I already have two other cars on the airport runs, so I can do the drive to the church, then take you home afterward. I had Ray meet the alarm installer and locksmith already, so we need to meet him at your place early afternoon for the new keys and codes. And, because that will be done, I asked him to go to Roberto’s.”
“Antonio, you know Ray’s nature. He’s such a softie…he’ll end up chatting over coffee with him!”
“Not with this level of crazy, Isa. He’s freakin’ pissed. And anyway, I didn’t want it to wait another day, and with this wedding, I wouldn’t be able to get to him until Monday.”
“I guess sooner is better than later,” she said, stepping out of the car. She couldn’t think about it now, anyway. Too much crap all at once, even for a master juggler like herself. “Okay, just remind Ray to be tough, tell him to take no shit.”
“Isa…he’s fuming. No worries.”
“Fine. Well, I guess I’ll meet you back down here in two hours with the bride.”
She pressed Lucinda’s number on her touch screen as soon as both feet were on the uneven cobblestone drive. And from the corner of her eye she caught Antonio shaking his head at her, probably for her incessant multitasking. She waved and threw him an acknowledging smile while taking renewed care in her footing as she made her way into the hotel—where she’d no doubt find, had to find, the best and worst and most tempting thing to happen to Isabel Ruiz.
That thing’s full name—Zachary James.
CHAPTER 20
After Zack checked out of the Airington and moved himself to the Bay View per his brother’s request, he met Darren and the groomsmen in the sauna at the hotel spa. After a late and crazy night, they all looked wrecked. Happily, hazily done in.
As for Zack, his body was still buzzing from Isabel. But his frenetic high was encased in the re-enlivened nothingness he felt in his gut, and he had a pounding headache to go with it. Maybe the guys would be an entertaining distraction for him. After all, he couldn’t stay holed up in his room like he wanted to. Darren wouldn’t have it.
So it seemed that John, Wret, and the others had shown Darren a great time after Zack had split from the group the night before. Darren only remembered a blur of nipples, he said. He thanked Zack and his best friends for the party, and cited that he was ready and looking forward to his soon-to-be wife’s nipples, and only her nipples, from that point forward. They all laughed and punched the crap out of him, then whipped each other’s asses with the towels that had been wrapped around their waists.
Such was male bonding in a sauna.
Wret asked if anyone had heard how the girls’ night went, and Darren announced his decision to not think on it.
But Zack knew. “Actually, Amy called me early on in the night, checking up on Darren.”
All the guys began busting on the groom, the whipping sounds of towels resuming, this time in thin air.
“But Amy sounded pretty distraught. It sounds like the maid of honor arranged the bachelorette party at the Rainbow Club… All the man-on-man action, and none for her and the girls!”
“You aren’t serious!” Darren shouted. They all broke out laughing, some of them in tears.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute…hold on! What I want to know is, where did Zack slink off to last night?” John presented to the guys.
Once attention turned to Zack, there was no going back.
“I spotted him at the bar hitting on a jaw-dropping piece of ass. No, dude, she literally had the most fucking amazing ass I have ever seen. And rack! But it was that round, fuckable ass that really got me sprung! If that was who he left with…oh, Lord!” Wret spewed, then pounded Zack on the back for congrats and good measure.
And Zack’s anger spiked hotter than the sauna, hotter than the goddamn sun.
*
Rage ripped through him. White-knuckled, Zack clenched his fists at his waist, doing everything he could to keep the cool, straight-lined smile plastered on his face. He locked his jaw.
Say nothing, stay silent.
He kept absolutely still there on the wood-slatted bench, or else, he worried, he’d slam his brother’s college roommate in the face. Just dead-on in the nose.
Isabel wasn’t even his—far fucking from it with her having vanished again, goddammit—but that wasn’t the point. Those assholes weren’t even worthy enough to fantasize about her, let alone talk about her.
Zack, just let it go.
He felt Darren nudge him, but he ignored any contact. He was still not okay.
Darren, apparently knowing his brother was trying to keep his temper, quickly steered the subject in a different direction, giving Zack time to cool down in the stifling heat and heightened testosterone of the small wooden space.
*
Within minutes, Darren had drawn attention away from Zack’s alleged conquest by way of embellishment. His brother spun a story about Zack, some groupies of a visiting celebrity, a party-turned-orgy, and a yacht.
And even though, God, those comments about Isabel had choked out his ability to keep control, keep calm, Zack had come back down, even fake-laughing along with the guys as if nothing had pissed him off only minutes before. Though he was an expert at keeping his cool in even his most heated business dealings, this had been worlds different, a precedent really. His mother and brother were the only people in his life he’d ever gotten so defensive of. Before Isabel.
But what mattered was that she was no longer a topic, out of all their filthy, undeserving minds, so he just let the tall tales and rumors fly. And after all, only a few weeks ago, grandiose orgies weren’t out of the realm of possibility for the great Zack James, so he wasn’t about to say anything to dispel the guys’ excitement. And hell, no harm in letting his kid brother, who was soon to be hitched, live vicariously through Zack before his big day, even if the new chapter in Zack’s story was far from the spun fantasy the guys had created, as far as the sun is from the Earth. His new chapter with Isabel was actually, magically, solidly, down to Earth. Except for the fact that he didn’t know where on Earth she was again, his life—with her in it—would no doubt be so raw and real, tangible, whole. His heart slammed his chest from the inside. So whole.
*
The men were all at the brink of overheating in the sauna, but the common consensus was to stick it out for a few more death-defying minutes. The steam had helped lighten Zack’s mood, getting him even further away from his initial fury over the words said about Isabel earlier.
Still amazed and impossibly jealous over Zack’s supposed conquests the night before, the guys were getting more and more daring, really trying to bust his balls.
“This asshole even had one of the strippers last night whining for him, pissed that he wasn’t there! I think her name was Deedee or Diamond?” John said.
“Destiny,” Wret said. “She was so fine! Man, right-up-in-my-face fine, you know? But she wouldn’t compare to a floating gangbang! On a yacht, no less.”
“That’s why he’s Mama’s lucky charm!” Darren added. Zack grimaced and punched his brother in the arm for telling his friends the
ir mother’s nickname for him.
But Zack came back to rile the men up for one more round. “Like luck had anything to do with it! Lady Luck can join the fuck-fest too,” he spat. “There’s plenty of me to go around!” He ripped off his towel, displaying all that he had for Miss Fortune, giving the men the cocky arrogance they craved. When he threw his towel onto Darren’s face, the men roared.
The sauna filled to the max with the men’s pumping testosterone, fantastical delusions, and more hot steam.
*
While the guys showered, Darren cornered Zack in the locker room. “What the fuck happened in there earlier? It looked like you wanted to murder John.”
“Dude, nothing,” Zack shot, a knee-jerk response. Then seeing the look on his brother’s face while knowing the man had just totally gotten his back, he reset himself. “Just, not now, man.”
“That’s just fine,” Darren said, expertly guilt-tripping Zack with just his tone.
“For fuck’s sake…fine. That woman, at the bar…I’m into her. Really into her.”
“Holy hell! Zack James is—”
“Shut the fuck up, dude.” God, some things never change—Darren’s volume hiking five decibels from excitement like his kid brother was…a kid again. All the guys turned to look at them, but Darren brushed them off with a nod of his head.
Back to a whisper, “This is a damn…enigma! A miracle! And at my wedding! You’ve got to bring her, dude! I have got to meet this woman!”
“I can’t. She’s MIA.” A cramp tore through Zack’s middle while his heart pounded in his throat.
“So, she’s not into you?” Darren whispered as best he could with even more surprise in his hushed tone.
“I thought she was. Or she is, but I think she’s just…a commitment-phobe.”
“Not an actual term, but, dude, that’s perfect. A perfect goddamn match, because so are you!” Darren laughed, then got another pounding in his arm for the comment and for forgetting to whisper.
*
Amy greeted Isabel with an enormous hug, as if they’d known each other forever. And they had been in close contact throughout the yearlong preparation process. It just so happened that Amy Rine was someone she could stand knowing. So many times, that was not the case with Isabel’s brides.
