Confessions of a Wedding Planner (Bliss Series Book 1)

by Michelle Jo Quinn

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I hoped that I could clear all the other thoughts out of my head. "I'm fine. I didn't—I wasn't doing anything. Is everything okay? Is there something wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong. I haven't heard from you, so I got worried."

  "Oh." How sweet of her! "I'm good. Working. Being a tourist. You know, the plan."

  "Yeah okay. Well, I haven't hit the sack yet. I just wanted to see if you're okay." I knew what she was really asking. She wanted to know how things were with Jake and Sandrine, and how I was dealing with the couple in Sandrine’s turf. She was more heartbroken than me when I told her that Diego and I had decided to stay friends.

  "All good," was all I could say.

  Chase sighed heavily. "Well, remember what I said."

  "What's that?"

  Her voice went down an octave lower. "It won't hurt to bed a Frenchman. I heard they're good in the sack." She guffawed into the phone.

  I couldn't laugh with her. I shifted on my feet and glanced toward the bathroom. Levi had closed the door at some point and started the shower. I refused to think of him naked and wet under the hot spray. My breath became ragged. If only Chase knew how close I had been to accomplishing her suggestion.

  * * *

  After hanging up with Chase, I checked the time on my phone. Levi was wrong. We didn't have a few hours before the appointment with the tailor. We had fifteen minutes before the car arrived. I slipped the phone back into my purse.

  I padded to the bathroom door, my hand poised to knock when I heard Levi singing. He was singing the lyrics of my ringtone.

  Fifteen minutes. A lot could be done in fifteen minutes, I reminded myself.

  With a deep cleansing breath, I rapped on the door. "Levi, we have ten minutes before the driver gets here."

  He stopped singing. "Be right out."

  My stomach made noises. I headed to the cart and took a sip of the black coffee, and debated which pastry I should go for. Eating more pain au chocolat in Paris? How could it be wrong? I was almost through the delicious treat when the bathroom door opened, and I nearly choked as something more delectable presented itself to me.

  Fresh out of the shower, Levi had wrapped a towel around his waist. His torso was slick with water droplets, and his hair was dripping wet. He was rubbing his smooth, freshly-shaven jaw as he sauntered over to me.

  Do not lick the water off his chest.

  "Good breakfast?" He lifted my hand and nibbled at the last piece of croissant. A dollop of melted chocolate dripped on my hand. Levi’s eyes flicked to it, wrapped his lips over my thumb and sucked and licked the chocolate off my skin. He moaned, and it struck me like lightning, tingling the nerve endings from my thumb to my center, where all the butterflies decided to take residence, and down to the tips of my toes. I stared at my fingertip, and then up to his face. There was something primal in his eyes, but the rest of his features remained neutral.

  He released my hand, picked up his cup, and sipped, keeping his hungry eyes on me. "That's damn good breakfast." He tilted his lips into a crooked smile and drank his coffee again. All I could think was lucky cup!

  I stood quietly, holding my cup with trembling hands, trying hard to focus on finishing my coffee. I stared out at the city while I listened to Levi moving around the room and singing that ringtone. My body silently hummed from that quick contact with him, and I refused to think of anything else.

  “Ready?” I jumped out of my skin not noticing Levi behind me, his lips dangerously close to my ear. As soon as I was aware of him, all I could feel was the heat of his body burning me through my clothes.

  I nodded, having trouble finding my voice. When I pivoted, Levi didn’t move. We stared into each other’s eyes, waiting for someone to close the gap. But my phone beeped with a message that my car had arrived. Saved by the bell had a whole different meaning to me.

  The chauffeur might have been surprised to see Levi come out of the hotel with me, but he didn't show it. He greeted me with a polite nod and had a short conversation with Levi.

  Once the ride began, I relaxed into the leather seat and focused on the day at hand. All the while, Levi was absently rubbing circles on my knee with his thumb. I looked his way when he gave my knee a mild squeeze, but his attention was focused outside the window. I took that chance to examine him closer. Something I had never thought to do before. My attention had been on the beauty of old architecture. Levi was something else to behold.

  I traced a line with my eyes from his strong neck to his square jaw, lusciously full lips, and elegant nose, to deep-set blue-gray eyes that changed shades depending on his mood, graciously curled ear, framed by thick, dark brown hair, then back to his neck again. I had come to the conclusion that this man was beyond gorgeous. He even looked younger after getting rid of the beard. I stared back at his lips and imagined what they felt like on my entire body , wishing I could remember something this important.

  He turned to me with amused eyes.

  He was about to speak, but something over my shoulder had caught his eyes. As Levi reached for the headrest of the seat upfront, he said some beautiful French words to our driver, who clearly obeyed him by pressing on the brakes, gently, without causing me to fly forward.

  "Are we here?" I asked Levi and our driver.

  "No, I want to make a quick stop. Claude will drive you. I'll see you at the tailor." Without another word, he kissed my lips hurriedly but sweetly and let himself out of the car.

  I watched him cross the street and enter a shop. Before the car stopped again in front of a store, I had to admit to myself that I was already starting to miss Levi.

  The other men were present, looking a bit tired when I walked in. Landon and Trent were goading each other, while Jake sat sullenly in a corner chair. My upbeat "hello" caught their attention. The cousins waved at me. Jake hopped up, smiled, but then he trained his eyes at the door as if waiting for something, or someone. I gingerly approached him, adopting the French way of greeting.

  "Hi. How was your night? Did you get some rest?" he asked, not letting go of me right away.

  "Yup. How was yours? You look tired." It was more of a question. Why did he look so forlorn? Maybe the stress of an impromptu wedding was finally getting to him.

  "I'm fine." His tone told more than his words did; something was definitely bothering him. "I'm gonna start now. Levi should be here shortly," he said as he finally let go of me, then headed to the back room to change.

  I would chalk up his weird mood to cold feet, but Jake was not the type of guy to get cold feet. Hopefully, we would have time to talk later on. One big part of my job was to always make sure that both parties were on track and feeling the same way about the wedding, (otherwise all the planning would be moot).

  Levi walked in, appearing in a better mood than anyone at that moment. His smile brightened his eyes. He greeted the cousins with hard taps on their backs before standing beside me.

  Jake came back in a white tuxedo, followed by a very old man with wild hair and Coke-bottle glasses. "Nice of you to join us, Levi," Jake spat without even shooting a glance toward his best friend. I sensed a bit of vitriol.

  "Yes," Levi smirked at him. "I slept in. You would too if you had a night like I did."

  I stilled and blushed, praying that nobody noticed. I couldn't help but notice the evil glare Jake shot him through the mirror, which Levi, of course, merrily ignored.

  When Jake went back into the changing room, Levi sidled up closer to me. I was still writing down as much information as I received from the tailor, as interpreted by Levi. "I have something for you," he whispered in my ear.

  Looking through my lashes to make eye contact, I asked, "For me?" I was nervous and excited at the same time. He nodded, presenting me with a small boutique bag. I couldn't contain my excitement as I ruffled through the bag, finding a beautiful, elegant, soft as a baby's bum, silk Pucci scarf. "Levi, wow. This is too much. You didn't have to."

  Taking the scarf from my hand a
nd wrapping it around my neck, he told me, "I wanted to. You didn’t wear one today and look; it even matches your dress."

  There was a glimmer in his eye, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, but he stepped away, so quickly that I almost fell forward. I regained my composure from his sudden distance, although my mind was reeling as to why it even happened.

  Jake replaced his presence beside me, but it wasn't quite the same. It was…different, uncomfortable. This wasn't right. This was Jake. My Jake. Well, my ex-Jake. We had spent so much time together, planning, going through every single detail, and when we weren't together, we'd been sending texts or emails to each other or talking on the phone. But as days passed, whether it was because of my sense of obligation as a planner or ability a saint to forgive, I had been feeling less and less like the woman who had fallen for this man, regardless of the memories that often invaded my thoughts. Was spending time with Levi enough to make me change my mind?

  I was sure Sandrine had a lot to do with it too. After having spent some time with her, and talking to her via email, I had gotten to know Sandrine well and found what enticed Jake in the first place. She was beautiful, inside and out, unselfish (just don't ask Chase), kind, intelligent and one hell of a drinker. My dad would have loved that last part. She had been nothing but good to me.

  When the boys—judging by how they behaved—finished with their tux fittings, we stood outside. Jake put his arm around me, a little too snugly. "Let's go have lunch. I'm starving," he suggested to us all.

  "I can't. Levi and I are going to the Louvre. I won't have much time before dinner tonight. We'll just grab something on the go." I tried to ignore his tightening grip on me. "Shall we?" I smiled up at Levi.

  "Allons-y. Let’s go!" His arm already curved for me to hook into.

  Jake, after a few seconds of hesitation, loosened up and brought me in for a tight hug. After kissing the top of my head, he finally let me go. On Levi's arm, I bid goodbye to the rest and let him guide me.

  A few steps away, I turned and looked back to where Jake was still standing, the sullen expression back on his face.

  * * *

  Heaven. I was in heaven! Tourists were milling about in the packed museum, but for an Arts major like me, it was a sanctuary. It might sound sacrilegious (to my Catholic mother) to say so, but it was sacred. We had enough time to see perhaps a quarter of the museum, so Levi and I agreed to visit only my favorites. How I wished that I'd brought my sketchbook instead of just my camera.

  Levi paid attention to what I yammered on about the entire time. Whenever we entered a new room, he kept close, placing a hand on the small of my back. I had a feeling he had been here often enough. I was glad I'd declined—only slightly—his offer of a private tour, and that hundreds of people were around us at all times. I was giddy being in the Louvre, but I was burning inside being so close to Levi, having constant contact with him.

  In the sculptures room in the Denon wing, I spotted Corradini's La Foi and was admiring the details when I realized that Levi wasn't behind me. I glanced around the room, walked past the sculptures and back to where we had entered, stopping mid-stride when I saw Levi studying a marble sculpture. He looked absolutely captivated. I couldn't help but take a photo. Sidling up to him, I touched his arm to make him aware of my presence.

  "Psyché ranimée par le baiser de l'Amour," he told me, without taking his eyes of the marvelous piece.

  I was familiar with the Canova sculpture, having seen the plaster version at the Met in New York City, but this marble version was a breathtaking masterpiece.

  He continued, "People come in here to see the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo or Michelangelo’s works, but this…this is my favorite. To me, it’s the perfect symbol of..."

  "Love," I finished for him. Levi surreptitiously glanced my way, with a hint of shyness in his eyes, and then he returned his gaze to the lovers carved in stone.

  "Are you familiar with the allegory that served as the inspiration?" He didn't wait for my reply. "When he first saw how beautiful she was, Cupid immediately fell in love with Psyche, defying his mother's orders. Venus then demanded that Psyche bring a flask from the Underworld. Psyche, out of curiosity, opened it, and out came the Darkness of Styx, which sent her into a coma. Cupid saw her laying there, seemingly lifeless, and pricked her with his bow, awakening her from the deep sleep." He waved his hand toward the sculpture. "Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss."

  My eyes darted to it. Eros, the god of Love, enraptured by the goddess of Soul. Her arms were reaching out for her lover. His embrace was cradling her. Their eyes were searching one another.

  I glanced askance at Levi. If I recalled correctly, Cupid had been Psyche’s mysterious lover, visiting her in a palace in the dead of the night and making love to her. She had only known it was him when she lit a lamp to see his face, causing him to leave right away.

  Life imitated art.

  It was twice now that I'd woken to see Levi beside me. Who was this man before me? The man who had elicited reactions from within me through his words and actions.

  Levi turned to me with a bright smile. "Shall we continue?" I nodded, and he led me through the crowd, our hands intertwined, and a constant current was flowing through my body.

  * * *

  My shoes began to bite into my toes and heels as I stepped off the elevator after hours upon hours staring at works of art I had studied years before. We’d stopped at a cafe for a quick snack, but it hadn't been enough time for me to rest my feet. Levi, noticing that I began to limp, swiftly picked me up, with an arm under my legs and one behind my back. My knee-jerk reaction was to wrap my arms around his neck. I was terrified of falling, in more ways than one.

  "What are you doing?" I protested.

  "Reason number four. I will give you a piggy back ride when your feet get tired." His eyes lit up when he smiled at me, not even straining with the heavy weight, which I thought I m ust be. "Is this not a better way? Do you want a piggyback instead?"

  I shook my head and tucked it into the crook of his neck. He smelled delightful, and it tugged at a muscle deep in my center.

  Taking out my keycard as we reached my door, I opened it to let us in. He gingerly sat me on the edge of the bed and got down on both knees. Levi smoothed his hands over my right leg all the way down to my foot before taking off my shoe. Shivers ran up my spine and heat ebbed in my stomach and continued on when he did the same with my left leg.

  After placing both my shoes aside, he rubbed the soles of my feet and up my calves, working out the ache of my muscles. Goosebumps followed the trails of his fingers. All I could do was moan and enjoy the rapturous sensation his touch elicited. If he had gone any higher up my thighs, I would have been powerless to stop him.

  When he was done, he kissed the top of both my knees before clasping his hands over them, then propped his head on top. "Would you like a bath?" He gazed right up at me through long, dark lashes.

  Did he mean with him? "That would be great," I answered with a breathy voice.

  He stood up and strode toward the bathroom. A moment later, I could hear the gushing water, and the scent of lavender filtered into the bedroom. He reappeared with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, showing off the sinewy muscles of his tanned arms.

  "All set for you." Just for me? I wanted to ask, but he added right away, "I'll meet you at dinner in a couple of hours."

  My shoulders relaxed. As I stood to head to my luxurious bath, I leaned against him, and not knowing what to say, I placed a kiss on his soft lips. That made him smile, a smile that almost made me pull him into the bath with me.

  "Your bath is getting cold. I'll see you later," he whispered against my ear before turning around.

  How was I so wrong about him before? This guy had so much restraint. I had to let him go, because if I didn't, we wouldn't make it to dinner.

  Twelve

  The Parents of the Bride

  Dinner was at the Saint-Croix, at Sandrine’s pare
nts’, home in Neuilly-sur-Seine, what Parisians called an arrondissement. I learned earlier on that it was how the city of Paris was divided. There was a mélange of centuries-old manors, contemporary apartments, pristine parklands, tall trees jutting past high stone walls, and iron gates. French architecture at its finest all around. I thought it fitted that Paris' ‘suburbia’ would look like this. I had to kick myself for not bringing my camera, or worse yet, forgetting my stupid phone.

  The Saint-Croix stone-faced manor was tucked inside one of the towering walls and through an intimidating iron gate complete with ornate scrollwork. My mouth went dry at the thought of having a magnificent, dream-like wedding here. Why hadn't Sandrine and Jake considered this?

  The heels of my faux-snakeskin mules echoed throughout the wood-paneled foyer as I followed the elderly butler who greeted me at the door. My eyes wandered and widened at my surroundings, much like they did upon seeing the garden out front.

  The intricate veins of the marble floor were paralleled by the curves and glint of the grand chandelier hanging high above me. Through one of the open arched doors, I spotted what was—I could only assume from afar—an original Doré or an extremely well-done copy. At another door, the butler stopped, waited for me, and announced my arrival to the party waiting inside.

  What should have attracted my eyes first were the large carved-stone wood fireplace and the antique tapestries on the wall, or the glittering, tiered chandelier lighting the space. Instead, I noticed—no, felt—the palpable tension hanging thickly in the room, and the invisible line that separated the people in it.

  On one side were an elegantly dressed couple, and a hotter-than-hades man decked out in a three-piece suit. On the other side of the fireplace were Isobel and her cousins. All three waved at me without smiling. Right smack in the middle, facing the fireplace, and in the heat of it all, were Sandrine and Jake.