Confessions of a Wedding Planner (Bliss Series Book 1)

by Michelle Jo Quinn

  When his roving hands started to move down, and the cool air hit my naked bum, I broke our connection and pushed him away. I should have slapped him, but that was overly dramatic. He chuckled again, sticking his tongue out and licking his own lips, and muttered, “Sweet.”

  I exaggerated the way I wiped my lips on my sleeve.

  "What happened?" I demanded. I tried to look mad, not shaken and affected by his kiss. My legs trembled a tad. My thighs pressed together. Under my long shirt, I was very much aware of my nudity.

  He shrugged, buttoning his shirt up. "Lots of drinking. You were doing this incredibly sexy dance in the club..." I sadly knew what he meant. Chase called it my 'mating dance,' only performed while fully intoxicated. "It was kinda cute too. Then you asked me to take you home, we kissed, got naked...and then...you know." Levi winked, puckered his lips and made kissing noises.

  Oh, Holy of all holy. I did know. Or, I could speculate. What else could it be? I went back under my covers to hide my shame. I could not have had sex with the snakiest of playboys in this city, my ex's best friend, and his best man. What was I thinking? I was mentally chiding myself when I felt my bed sag by my feet.

  "Veronica…" His voice was laced with sweetness. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You were such a good..."

  I groaned and lifted a finger above the blanket. "Please don't say it. Will you just please go away? Just leave, okay?" I sank deeper into my bed.

  In all of my twenty-five years, I had never been so...irresponsible, and never with someone like Levi. The men I dated (count three) were dignified, responsible, and not man-whores.

  He remained quiet for a beat or two and then sighed heavily as he stood, my mattress springing back up. I couldn't see what he was doing, but I heard shuffling about, followed by his footsteps leaving my bedroom. A few moments later, the door of my apartment slammed shut.

  * * *

  There weren't a lot of reasons that would keep me away from work. An earthquake was one unless I was already at work, and then I’d hide under the desk until Chase gave me the 'all clear'.

  Heartbreak was another until Chase could convince me that she would run the place down to the ground if left to her own devices. But a drinking binge, and a possible wild night with Mr. Casanova himself weren't good enough reasons.

  After reminding myself that I was human and allowed to make mistakes, I dusted myself off, showered, dressed, ignored the possibility that I might have had unprotected sex with Levi, and went straight to meet with Sandrine for lunch. The effervescent woman seemed quite refreshed after last night—no saggy bags under her eyes, no blotches on her face, and she was even a tad cheerier. The kind of cheer that only a woman who got a little something-something last night, and possibly this morning, could have. Life was so unfair!

  "I was so grateful that you came out with us last night! Did you 'ave fun?" she asked as I ordered a cup of the strongest black coffee.

  Since nodding still hurt my head, I answered her, keeping my voice low, "Yup, for the most part."

  "Ah, you mean the alco'ol? Ah, oui. It is the devil. But you kept up with the boys. I was impressed. And you danced so well. Did you take lessons when you were little?"

  "Yeah, my old man was part Irish, and my mother was a dancer, so I may have gotten my impressive skills from them." My mother would have been appalled. Well, what she didn't know wouldn't kill her. "What time did you get home?" I needed some more insight of the previous night. Maybe I could recall the rest with her.

  "I wasn't so sure. I drank so much champagne, non?" Apparently, not as much as I did.

  When my coffee arrived, she let me sip a few sips. I refused any food, as even a tiny smell could turn my stomach.

  "I 'ave something to say." Her hand was over mine.

  Uh oh. This was the time she'd tell me that I was fired because I slept with her best man. Not to mention the feelings I still had for her fiancé. "Go on." I kept the coffee cup close to my mouth, running excuses through my aching head to counter her with.

  "Veronique, I 'ave two friends. Shalom and Natalie. They are both docteurs like me, but they're... 'ow do you say..." She made gestures with her hands. "Quarantined."

  I nodded, encouraging her to continue. Maybe she would ask me to postpone the wedding until they came back. Maybe this time, the Universe was on my side.

  "And my other friends, they don't talk to me anymore." She pouted her rouge lips. "Jacob said they chose sides. I had to ask Isobel to be my maid of honeur since she's Jacob's little sister." So, it wasn't her idea after all. "And I was wondering..."

  "Uh huh?" I said over the coffee, my brows knitted.

  "Since you 'ave every knowledge of the wedding and you are our friend--” I raised a brow “--will you be my bridesmaid?" Hope gleamed in her eyes.

  My hand shook, spilling some coffee on the table. I piled napkins over it, but the waiter was so attentive he had it cleaned up in seconds. I checked to make sure that Sandrine was fine, and she was. I, on the other hand, had a blot of black coffee over the crotch of my new white linen suit.

  As I tried to dab at the spot, I remembered what Sandrine asked of me. "You want me to be your bridesmaid? Sandrine, I'm already your wedding planner. I can't be your bridesmaid too."

  It was like chiding an orphaned child. I didn't know how she did it. She looked crushed, and it made me feel horrible.

  "Oh, I know, and I 'ate to ask you, but I felt I 'ad no other choice. You've been so good to me, to us, and 'ave been so involved, but I didn't want to ask Landon and Trent's girlfriends from last night. They were so uncouth and lacked class," she explained. Everything was clear to her. No wonder she was so freaking cheerful.

  "And I did?" I snapped at her, briefly recalling the earlier mention of my dancing skills, which was clearly a way to butter me up. Mating dance equaled zero class.

  "You 'ad more than those two girls combined. I will double your fees. All you need to do is stand during the ceremony for a little while. Then you're free to do whatever wedding planners do." Her back was straight. Her chin was held high. She believed that her idea was divine.

  I shook my head until it felt it was going to come off. "I cannot be in two places at once. What if something happens during the ceremony? Who will attend to that if I’m standing next to you?"

  "Well, maybe you can ask your partner to be there too? I will pay 'er as well. I will cover your whole staff's fees. Jacob wants his cousins as his groomsmen, and 'e said I needed a bridesmaid. I do anything, Veronique. Just please, please be my bridesmaid?" Her dainty surgeon fingers clasped under her chin. She'd give cute puppies a run for their money.

  Fudge my life.

  That day I realized that not only could I not say no to Jake, somewhere along the way I had also lost that ability with Sandrine. She clapped her hands with glee and hugged me tight when I gave in and nodded. "Perfect! We will fly to Paris in three days for dress fittings."

  "Whoa! What?" Did she just say Paris?

  "Oui, my mother's friend is a designer, and 'e insisted 'e makes all the dresses for the wedding party. We will only spend a few days there, don't you worry. It will be fantastique!"

  I stayed silent after that, letting her tell me about Paris and the French designer, and his plans for her haute couture wedding gown. My spotted crotch forgotten, my unplanned romp with the best man became secondary.

  Every girl has a dream.

  I was lost in my own when she mentioned Paris.

  Six

  The Bouquet

  I was a walking zombie when I returned to the office. Chase was ready to hear my stories as soon as she saw the puffiness under my eyes. When her gaze drifted down to the coffee stain on my white pants, I held up a hand. “Don’t ask.” And headed straight to the tiny office kitchen to rummage for liquid soap and vinegar.

  “I spilled coffee this morning,” I explained anyway as I removed my pants and ran it under cold water. The stain had set in.

  “Do you also know that you smell l
ike you bathed in alcohol?” she asked, sniffing my hair.

  Shocked, my eyes widened at what she’d just said. “What?” I grabbed a chunk of my hair and inhaled. Twice. She was right. I sagged in defeat and returned to washing my pants in the sink. “This is great. I had breakfast at a posh restaurant with a posh French woman, and I smell like a drunk skunk. On top of that, I don’t think I have enough time to go home before my date tonight. Maybe I’ll cancel.”

  “I beg your freaking pardon…date?” Chase shut off the faucet and made me face her. “Did the girl too busy planning other people’s happily ever after say she has a date? Tonight?”

  Crap. I completely forgot to mention it to her. Avoiding eye contact, I replied, “Yeah, I hope it’s okay. It was a little sudden. Just happened last night. Diego called me before…”

  “Did you just say, Diego? As in the most delicious human being on earth?” she interrupted, her eyes and grin widening.

  “Yes. Him.” I turned the faucet back on and returned my attention to my pants.

  “Yes? Him?” she said, incredulous. “Nica, Diego is not just ‘him.' Diego is perfection wrapped up in muscular goodness. What time is your date?”

  “He’s picking me up at seven. Oh, shoot. I have to text him our address.”

  “He’s picking you up here?” she shouted, like I’d done something so heinous.

  “Well, I have work to do and…”

  “No. I won’t allow this.” Chase shook her head, pushing her fingers through her thick hair and tugging in frustration.

  “What? Chase, I have stuff to do and this trip to Paris will require a lot of preparation.”

  “What trip to Paris?”

  Right. I forgot that one too. I paused scrubbing and slowly pivoted. “I’m going to Paris in three days on Sandrine’s dime for a dress fitting.” Before she could explode, I continued, “I’m now her bridesmaid, and she’s taking me to Paris to get measured by one of the best couturiers in France. It’s only a few days, and I know we have quite a bit to do this weekend, but she’s practically tripling our fees and…it’s Paris.” Hopeful, I bit my bottom lip and shrugged. She knew it had always been on my Bucket List. “I’ll make calls today to make sure you’re covered while I’m gone.”

  “Woman, please. I know how to do my job.” I raised a brow at her. “Oh, shut up. I do. The only reason I don’t do much is I don’t want to get in the way of your perfectionism and OCD tendencies.” She waved her hand in a circle in front of me. “But this is huge. Diego and plans to Paris in less than twenty-four hours. Anything else I should know?”

  Yes. “Nope. That’s all.” I focused my attention back on my pants and ignored the need to tell her about waking up next to Levi. I wasn't sure if I was ready to admit that to myself yet.

  Once my pants were dried, thanks to Chase’s hair dryer, I settled back into work, ignoring the hazy throb in my head. I kept hydrated and by lunchtime, my stomach didn’t feel like it was turning itself inside out. Every now and then, something would cause me to pause, close my eyes and try to remember what happened last night, but nothing solid would come. Once I opened my eyes, I ignored Chase’s curious looks.

  Jewel, one of our semi-permanent staff, walked into my office with a bouquet of flowers that she could barely carry half an hour after sending Diego my home address. "Delivery," She announced.

  Chase hopped up from the couch and grabbed the card stuck in the arrangement, which Jewel placed daintily on my desk. “To Sweet Veronica.”

  My head jerked up. “For me?” My cheeks warmed.

  Chase waved the little card in the air. “Yup. Somebody lurves you.”

  I scooted forward, examining the beautiful, massive arrangement of every flower that ever existed (or close to it). "Who sent it?” I held my hand out for the card.

  Instead of giving it to me, Chase flipped it in her hand. “Doesn’t say. You have a secret admirer.” The way she waggled her brows reminded me of someone…someone who didn’t have the right to invade my thoughts. It didn’t matter how sexy he’d looked in my bed. No, Nica! Stop it! I couldn’t let myself think of Levi. Or his naked behind. Or that toe-curling kiss.

  Looking at the bouquet, I named all the flowers I knew in my head, from garden variety round bulbs of pink peonies and white ranunculus to the more exotic yellow and purple lady slipper orchids to keep my thoughts away from the man who’d woken up in the nude next to me.

  "Who would send me flowers?" I asked under my breath.

  "Maybe it's from DD!" Chase's grin spread from ear-to-ear.

  I smiled at the thought. I tried to recall the last time Jake had sent me flowers and couldn’t remember it. An ache replaced my giddiness. Maybe this whole dating thing was a good idea after all.

  * * *

  At exactly 6:55pm, Diego knocked on my door. I opened it to greet the debonair man in a collared shirt, light blue V-neck sweater and dark jeans. He completed the look with a navy blue blazer, a white handkerchief folded neatly in the breast pocket. I was truly attracted to this man, physically, but when he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, with the slight quiver in my belly came a surprising stab of guilt.

  I blinked, thinking it would be enough to erase that last unwelcome feeling. It wasn't. "Hi," I welcomed him in.

  "You look..." He swept his eyes over me. "Wow."

  I blushed, most likely the same color as the tight dress I was wearing (that Chase insisted on, but I must admit I rocked it). "And you don't look half-bad."

  "I know it's a bit of a change from my usual trainers and gym clothes." Which he never looked bad in, either. "Shall we?"

  "I just need to grab my purse. Why don't you come in?" I let Diego close the door behind him.

  It was awkward having a man standing by my door. I didn't date much. Jake and I hadn't gone out much due to time constraints and our never-ending responsibilities. Even the few blind dates that Chase had arranged for me would meet with me at an agreed-upon location.

  After grabbing my clutch from my dresser, I went through my scarf drawer (yes, I had one, so should everybody) to pick something that would both compliment my dress and keep my neck warm. My breathing faltered when I immediately spotted the scarf that Jake had given me. Like a ticking time bomb, I went around it carefully and chose a black silk-cashmere blend instead. I breathed a sigh as I wrapped the scarf around my neck and walked out of my bedroom to meet my hot date. One who wasn’t engaged to be married. One whose wedding I wasn’t planning.

  Diego was such a gentleman. That wasn’t much of a surprise. He helped me shrug into a light coat, opened and closed the car door for me, held out his hand when I stepped out of it and slipped my arm around the crook of his elbow while we walked. Whoever said chivalry was dead had not met Diego. He smelled incredible too. He didn't have his usual coconut scent but a more appealing, more masculine allure.

  "So, where are we going?" I asked as we turned on Noe Street in Castro.

  "Do you like French food?"

  If I had been drinking something, I would have sputtered and spat all over my date. Or, if we had been walking faster, I would have fallen on my ass. French? Was he kidding me? I looked at his polite smile.

  He was serious. Of course he was, because he wouldn’t have known about the one French person I knew—Levi. Admittedly, I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. As soon as I stepped into my bedroom again after coming home from work, he had invaded my mind. I blamed it on the fact that I couldn’t remember anything that happened last night, but…the kiss we shared was hard to ignore.

  "Yeah. Sounds great."

  We arrived shortly at La Mer. Diego greeted every staff member who came our way. The restaurant was busy, but everyone, including the chef, made an appearance at our table. Diego, once again, ever the gentleman, introduced me to every single one of them. They all seemed ecstatic about my presence.

  "Do you work here?" I asked Diego when Chef Jean-Luc left.

  He laughed that delig
htful, hearty laugh. "I don't. Not anymore. I used to be a sous-chef when I first moved here." So, he cooked too! He really was the perfect man.

  "You're not from San Francisco?"

  Diego took a sip of water. "'Fraid not. I was born in Atlanta, and I moved around a lot with my family when I was younger. Military brat." He pointed at himself. "I lived in Georgia again before moving here."

  "Oh, nice. What brought you here?"

  Luciano, our server, returned and brought us a bottle that Chef Jean-Luc recommended. Diego did the wine thing (checking the label, swirling, tasting, making faces) before nodding at Luciano.

  "I didn't know you were a wine connoisseur," I observed.

  "I'm not." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I pretended I knew what I was doing to try to impress you. Can you keep a secret?" I nodded, then he glanced around. "I cheated on my sommelier test."

  My eyes bugged out of my head. "I promise not to tell." Hot, sexy, can cook, and funny? This date had promise. I'd be stupid not to enjoy it.

  Satisfied, Diego sat back. "Love."

  What? "Pardon me?"

  "You asked me what brought me here. It was love. Love brought me to this city."

  Wasn't he the most adorable man that ever existed? "What happened?"

  Diego sucked on his bottom lip before answering , and pulled on his left ear.

  "Life happened, I suppose."

  What could I say? First dates could be awful with awkward chit-chat. This wasn’t exactly first date conversation, but I asked a question, and he answered, truthfully. Time to change direction. "Thanks for the flowers, by the way."

  Immediately, from the confused look on his face, I knew they hadn't come from him. "Flowers?" he asked, with one corner of his lips tilted.

  "I received a bouquet of flowers this afternoon at work." Why didn't I stick to that first awkward topic? Did Jake actually send me flowers? He might have done that once before, but why now? What did it mean?