"Anyway, this is what I have so far." I pulled my iPad, and their wedding binder full of information—forms, ideas, costs, swatches, and samples—out of my bag.
"Wow, look at that!" Jake cleared his throat at the sight of the binder. "I've seen you work before, but I never thought I'd witness you planning my wedding."
Ouch! And the knife in my heart dug in deeper.
Levi chuckled. When I shot him a warning look, he clammed up and shrugged, but he was clearly still enjoying a little joke in his head. Thankfully, our orders came … a welcomed distraction.
I went into planner mode—or what Chase called OCD mode—presenting what I had done so far ( and in such a short amount of time ) , and then suggested what we do for the rest. Jake was pleased with the progress. Even Levi offered a few thoughts and suggestions. His comments I readily ignored, but some of his suggestions were a bit...genius. He was clearly an intelligent man; I didn't understand why he had to act like an idiot most times. Correction: all the time.
We ordered two more rounds of drinks and pastries. With Levi behaving well, it was easy to be around him, listening to him, and even laughing at jokes he made. Jake became more agitated as I explained to him time and time again the difference between Casablanca lilies and calla lilies, French and Italian lace, bone and porcelain china, and, the most frustrating of all, the difference between white, cream, off-white and ivory.
At a certain point, Levi and I were the only ones talking about damask and brocade patterns. He was knowledgeable. He knew as much as Chase did, even telling me the history behind Coalport and Radnor bone china. He became bearable.
"Well, as much as I enjoyed being a girl..." He stretched out his long arms above his head, and his outstretched legs touched mine. "I'd rather be inside one than be one." Just like that, the Levi I often ignored was back.
He got to his feet before either Jake or I could say anything, picked up his remaining espresso and sauntered over to the table where the girl he had been eyeing earlier was seated. Only slightly appalled by his behavior, I shook my head as Jake chuckled.
"Boys will be boys, I guess." Jake shrugged. "Tell you what...I need to go to work. Everything looks good—no, better than good—everything’s great. I knew I could count on you. We'll stop for now and touch base later."
As he stood up, he held onto the back of my seat, leaned down and planted a kiss on my cheek. His lips warmed me, and his scent brought back many fond memories. Memories of us in bed together on Sunday mornings. Of dancing to a song on the radio in my kitchen. Of impromptu picnics at the park and frolicking on the beach. We had the type of romance that people wrote about. What happened? He fell in love with someone else . It was as simple as that.
"Thanks for being such a sport. I'll call you tomorrow." Then he left.
I touched the side of my face that he’d kissed. The skin felt heated. My chest constricted. I let my mind wander into the wicked world of “what if?”
After several minutes of reorganizing the binders and inputting information into my iPad, my eyes wandered to where Levi was slowly seducing the girl. She looked to be a freshman at SFU, blond, innocent and cute. I should warn her, but she seemed quite taken by him.
Levi was always overflowing with charm and, any second now, he would have charmed the pants off her. I didn't want to be a witness to that impending disaster. I gathered my stuff and headed out of the café.
As I crossed the street, I heard Levi calling my name. I threw my bag in the back of the car and stood by it, waiting for him, wondering what else he could add. Gosh, I hoped he didn’t think that we could be friends.
When he reached me, he hooked his arm around my shoulders, trapping me between his warm body and my cold car. "You didn't even say goodbye," He said in a low murmur.
Really? That's why he chased me down? I raised a brow and scoffed. "Sorry. You looked pretty busy back there."
"Oh yeah...her..." He smirked. "She was too young for me."
I didn't realize he actually had standards.
"I like my women with a bit of experience." Suddenly, his arm on my shoulder felt a little constricting, so I tried to move it with very little success.
I couldn't make myself comfortable. As I continued to shrug, he clasped my shoulders tighter. If I leaned against my car, his hips would press against me. I sagged in defeat and avoided direct contact with his eyes. This was worse than him thinking we could be friends.
"Since you're big, bad boss of this whole operation, what's going on with the bachelor party?" The man wriggled his eyebrows at me when I looked up. It was such a laughable action.
Levi was the ultimate bachelor...and rebel. He kept his hair long, rarely shaved, and often dressed in button up shirts with the first three buttons undone and sleeves rolled up, showing off his constant tan. He exuded bad-to-the-bone. And he loved it.
No doubt he had particular ideas about what Jake's bachelor party should be like. I had more than enough of a fight to deal with, why would I add a few more in the way of silicon-filled strippers?
"What bachelor party? I'm not in charge of that. I've never planned one, and don't intend to start. It's your job as the best man to figure it out." I poked my finger at his chest. Hard, warm chest, with a steady fluttering from his heart.
"Is it?" He took my hand in his and flattened my palm on his chest, halting my protests . I stared at my fingertips touching his exposed skin. “Maybe you and I can get together soon, just us, and you can give me ideas.” A number of salacious scenes flashed in my mind. I gulped, realizing my mistake, but the heat had ebbed up my neck and cheeks.
Drawing back my hand, I replied, "If you need help, you can call Chase." I spun around to the back of my car, reached in and took out a card from my purse, ignoring the blush on my cheeks and hoping he would, too. The hand that was squeezing my shoulder smoothed its way down to the small of my back when I faced him again. I tried not to focus on the sudden, pleasant warmth in my belly. This was Levi, Casanova of the Bay area…and beyond!
He took the proffered card. "She's the expert on all things...naughty." Chase would kill me if she found out I gave him her number. "I have to go."
He removed his hand from my back and held my door open for me. As I settled in my seat, he stuck his head in my car and surprised me with a swift kiss on my cheek, rendering me speechless with how pleasant it felt. Levi had never been this close to me before. I’d never allowed it.
After shutting the door, he leaned his arms on the opened window and cocked his head to one side. Playfulness washed over his face. "Veronica, you may not like me, but whether you like it or not, I will be around whenever Jake asks me to be there. So you'll have to get used to us being together...a lot." It felt like he was trying to say more, but I simply nodded my head, and started the car , w ait ing for him to back away, before I sped off. I was flustered enough to accidentally run over the guy.
During the short drive back to my office, I managed to shake off whatever reaction I had from Levi’s touch and chalked it all up to a combination of exhaustion and excitement of being around Jake. After parking my car, I flipped the visor down, checking to see if my cheeks had returned to their normal hue, only to realize that for the first time in my life, I’d been kissed by two different men, and reacted to them in quite the same way.
What was I saying? No, they weren’t the same. Levi wasn’t Jake. Jake was sweet and a real gentleman. Levi would jump any woman that batted her lashes his way. Lucky for me, I wasn’t the type of woman who batted lashes at someone like him.
No way.
I went to work without another thought to this ridiculous idea.
* * *
After waking up bitterly hungover the morning after agreeing to do Jake’s wedding, Chase had decided that I needed a fresh new me, one with a stronger backbone. I‘d been dragged out of my fuzzy slippers and pink pajamas to join a prestigious gym and enlist in a boot camp called Torture. It hadn't been a misnomer. Every single morning at the unholy h
our of five o’clock, Chase shook me out of my bed, poured me into exercise clothes and trainers, shoved pre-workout smoothies into my mouth, and dragged me to (be) Torture(d).
The only cherry-on-top factor was our trainer, a sexy man named Diego, whose gluteal muscles were possibly firmer than marble, and whose skin looked as smooth as silk and the color of milk chocolate. And he always smelled like coconuts.
Since missing this morning’s class due to an impromptu meeting with the chairman of a non-profit organization, Chase and I had to attend the evening class. I was bone-tired but with the afternoon I’d had, I couldn’t help but hope a little bit of Torture would excise all the unwelcomed thoughts in my mind.
After the last cycle of pushups, squats, inclined crunches and lunges, I dragged myself to shower off the smell of a hundred liters of sweat. I took longer than usual and didn’t rush drying my hair.
When I came out of the locker room, I found Chase sipping her post-workout smoothie and eyeing Delicious Diego, who was standing on the other side of the room, talking to a gaggle of his groupies.
Chase offered me an identical drink. "Thanks. I'm starving." As if to prove a point, my stomach grumbled.
"Ladies." That deep baritone resonated in my core, which still ached from the workout.
Chase and I turned to the source—Delicious Diego (DD) was sauntering toward us. Without glancing her way, I knew Chase was unabashedly licking her lips.
"Great job today." DD's smile nearly blinded me. "Chase, your range is excellent..." He turned to me (I bet he didn't have the same praise), and continued, "and Nica, you've managed to keep up with the class. You’re constantly improving every day. I admire that about you." Hot dang, he was a smooth talker.
DD stepped closer to me— I swam in the masculine cologne he wore—and produced a card. I mechanically took it as I drowned in the depths of his chocolate brown eyes. "I'd like you to consider some private lessons with me."
Chase made a choking noise at my side, forcing me to take my eyes off DD. I patted her back. "Sorry, went down the wrong pipe," was her excuse. The smile that broke on her face was suggestive, giving the Joker a run for his money. "I'm gonna wait outside." She traipsed toward the entrance after waggling her eyebrows at me.
The corners of Diego’s lips lifted, producing an achingly drool-worthy smile, paired with a set of dimples on his face. "Or maybe we can have dinner sometime." He didn’t pose it as a question. DD had the right to be confident, but it never came off as arrogant.
"Dinner? Ahm...I...uh...." Was I ready to date another man? I glanced to where Chase was watching with unveiled interest. She gave me a thumb's up. She’d been suggesting I needed to get out there if I wasn’t going to steal Jake back. "Yeah, dinner. Sure."Flipping the card in my hand, I nodded and gulped the lump that formed in my throat, but kept my eyes trained on the embossed letters on his card.
"Wonderful. Have a look at your very busy schedule, and give me a call." As I raised my head, he winked at me, and I could swear my uterus jumped.
I strode away, adding a little bit more sway into my walk, just in case he was still watching.
Chase and I contained ourselves until we reached the car. We didn't stop talking about how hot our trainer was and all the dirty things she would do to him, which made me double over from laughter until we got back to my apartment.
Four
The Maid of Horror
The next day, Jake's sister barged into my office and stopped in front of my desk, hands on hips, Louboutin heel tapping on my office floor.
"Isobel! What are you doing here?" I gnashed my teeth.
"I need to talk to you." She turned on her heels and slumped on the loveseat in my office with a heavy exhale.
I rolled my eyes. Isobel could be such a spoiled brat when people let her, and people often did. It was always easier to give her what she wanted than deal with her moods.
I spoke to her in my most sarcastic tone. "Sure, it's not like I'm busy." Sweeping my hands over the piles of paperwork I had in front of me.
"Oh good," she said, oblivious to both my sarcasm and the work on my desk. I had a feeling that she didn’t come for a social call, so I stood up and closed my office door.
"I'm the maid of honor," she spat out, tilted her head onto the back of the loveseat, and covered her face with her thin hands, as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders.
This was news to me, and being the wedding planner, I needed to know important details like this, but I kept quiet. There was no need for Isobel to run back to Jake and Sandrine telling them that I'd been slacking off, even if it was their omission.
"I'm glad it's you," I said, with a saccharine smile.
She grinned at me as I sat beside her, and then she leaned her head on my shoulder. Isobel could be an affectionate person, whether people thought it was fake or not. It was one of her redeeming qualities. Although, often, her affection was followed with a request that was hard to turn down, even when I should.
"I don't like her." She pouted. Uh-oh. "I don't like her, and I don't want to be her stupid maid of honor. She's so pathetic! She doesn't have friends." She was on a roll. "And you should see the designs for the dresses! They're atrocious. Made my skin jump.” Isobel grimaced, stuck a finger in her mouth, and made a gagging noise. "She has no style. She's...she's...she's so French!" she finished, throwing her hands up as a sign of exasperation and then cross ing them over her chest.
I honestly couldn't agree with her. Sandrine definitely had style. She had that elegant French style, and it worked to her advantage. I didn't know about her lack of friends, and since it had come from Isobel, it could be tainted idealism, a rumor at best.
Rubbing my temples, I tried to muster the energy to oppose Isobel. "You might not like her, but she's still marrying your brother. We don't have a choice on Jake's preference of a wife."
Ever the dramatic, Isobel straightened and gasped. "How can you say that?" She glared at me for a moment, then her features smoothened. She pouted. "He should be marrying you." This was not going to be good, coming from Isobel. My heart did twitch at the tiny hope, but Jake was a one-woman kind of man. She continued, "You guys were perfect for each other. That French twit stole Jake from you."
I tutted at her choice of word for Sandrine and worried that it hadn't been too long since I'd heard the same conversation from Chase. Neither one had said anything like that to me when Jake and I broke up. Chase had tried to set me up on dates immediately, and Isobel had been out of the country. I was out of her sight and out of her mind. Until today.
"Again," I touched her arm to soothe her. "There isn't anything we can do about that. Sandrine is his choice."
"But there is something we can do. Something you can do!" This was not going anywhere good. I could almost see the horns growing out of her salon-styled hair. "You can sabotage their wedding! It's perfect, and they won't even find out until it's too late! Come on, Nica." She kept bouncing on the couch, her little butt making squishy sounds against the fabric. "We can do it together. I'll help you. They have so much trust in you. Really, they expect you to handle everything for them. She's not even in the country for most of the planning!" she said, rolling her eyes.
"Stop, Isobel!" I held her wrists in my hands. She pouted again. Time for damage control.
"Isobel, Jake and I are over. He picked Sandrine and like you said, they have entrusted everything to me. This is my job, my career. This company is all I have. When…if they found out, and they would, that I was trying to sabotage their wedding, it would destroy me. You know that it would. It won't be good for you or me, or Chase, or my company, and all the staff I have employed." I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to get my mind steady. "You have to understand this, Isobel. My hands are tied. As much as I would like to be with Jake again, I...it's not going to happen."
It hurt to say it out loud, even to Isobel, but I was not the steal-your-man-behind-your-back type of girl. If Jake did want to come back, I wanted him t
o do it because he wanted me, because he loved me, and because he couldn't live his life without me. I should remember to say the same to Chase.
Isobel was quiet for a while, and I hoped she was trying to understand. Then she opened her plump pink mouth.
"Don't worry, Nica. I got your back. You and Jake will be back together again. I will make it happen." Her lips curled into a devious smile.
I realized that she only heard the last part of my remarks. Before I could say more, she gave me a kiss, a hug, and sashayed her way to the door.
"Isobel," I began, but her black Louboutins were already out of my office.
Leaning my head against the back of the couch, I wondered whose bright idea it was to make her the maid of honor, and why I wasn't told. After a few cleansing breaths, I got up to call Jake, while sending Sandrine an email.
Jake answered on the first ring.
Bypassing the pleasantries, I spat on the phone, "You guys forgot to mention that Isobel is the maid of honor."
"Hi to you too, Nica." He knew I was upset, and he was waiting for me to greet him back, but I had no energy for games.
When it was clear that I wasn't in the mood, he told me, "Sandrine and I just decided this morning when she flew in. We had breakfast with the family, and she asked Isobel then." He paused and softened his voice. "I was just about to call you to see if you could hang out with us tonight. You know, dinner and maybe dancing?"
I had to look at my cell phone in disbelief. Did he really think it was going to be that easy for me? What could be better than a date with my new favorite couple?
This was his way of making amends. Honestly. Jake was a peacemaker. I hoped that the reasons I’d given everyone as to why he’d picked me to plan his wedding were the truth, but only he knew. He wouldn’t take advantage of my feelings for him, would he?
Confessions of a Wedding Planner (Bliss Series Book 1) Page 3
