Don't Tell the Wedding Planner

by Aimee Carson

  Lord knows she needed one.

  “Scotch?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  Hopefully a bit of alcohol would take the edge off, so she poured two, rehearsing her lines for the conversation that was about to take place.

  Handing Matt his drink, she said, “I suppose you heard about Colin and Tommy’s big plans to take the DoZ weekend and go public.”

  Matt sighed and threaded his fingers through his hair, leaving sandy-colored spikes in his wake. “I’m sorry.”

  She let out a soft huff, amused. “Not your fault.”

  “You could have said no. Tommy and Penny were already getting what they wanted.”

  “Colin asked.”

  Matt said nothing in response, so she handed Matt his drink and he simply followed her down the hall of hardwood floors and into the bathroom containing the same dark wood cabinets and marble counters as the kitchen. The mere fact that Matt hadn’t commented meant she had some explaining to do. Callie leaned her hip against the cabinet and watched Matt pull out everything he needed from his bag, totally focused on his task.

  She’d experienced firsthand the chaos of the E.R. waiting room. God only knows how much worse the noise and confusion had been in back, which explained a lot about Matt’s ability to focus. Obviously the man had learned to block out unnecessary stimuli, concentrating on the task in front of him. And the memory of having all that attention directed at her sent heat crawling up her back.

  “I’m curious what kind of hold Colin has over you,” Matt said.

  “I told you before, I owe him.”

  “Yeah, but I considered your debt more of an ‘I’m going to organize this weekend party for him’ kind of obligation. Not an ‘I’m going upgrade the whole shindig to a blowout publicity stop’ kind of obligation.”

  He’d stopped, a package of gauze in his hand as he watched Callie closely.

  “I’m assuming this has something to do with your college blunder,” he went on.

  Callie almost laughed at the benign-sounding title he’d given her mistake.

  “When I got dragged to the police station, Colin made the long drive to come bail me out. Colin was livid, and I was angry because I hadn’t even asked for his help. He just assumed and came.” Her voice dropped a notch. “And, unfortunately, the trip wound up screwing up his finals. He...” She looked away for a moment. “He almost flunked that semester.”

  She took a deep breath, pushing the horrendously shameful memories away. She’d alienated herself from her parents, her boyfriend and most of her friends in one awful day. Not to mention losing the scholarship.

  Coming back to New Orleans was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she didn’t regret the move for a moment.

  “And now that this weekend has morphed into the party that just won’t stop growing, this is a massive opportunity for Rainstorm Games,” she said. “And, hence, Colin. The added publicity is also good for my business.”

  She took a deep breath and met Matt’s gaze again, forcing the words out. “I can’t pull off doing my job and sorting through—” she gestured her hand between the two of them “—this, whatever this is, at the same time.”

  A hush descended in her bathroom, and the pause felt big enough to swallow her whole. In fact, she kind of wished it would.

  Matt set the gauze on the counter and stepped closer, and her awareness of him increased to distracting levels. “You’re telling me that you’re going to let your guilt keep you from enjoying our time together?”

  “It’s not guilt.”

  God, she hated that word. She’d spent the first few years back in New Orleans drowning in a murky sea of remorse. She’d promised herself, promised, she’d have nothing more to do with the emotion. But still...

  Matt cocked his head and continued to say nothing, and the burn in her belly brought a frown to her mouth.

  Damn.

  “Okay,” she said. “Maybe I do have some leftover guilt.”

  She hated admitting that to herself, much less to Matt. It was bad enough her parents still brought up her moment of shame, reminding her of all she’d done. She’d been struggling for years to prove to her parents she’d successfully moved on. And how disappointing to realize she’d subjected herself to the same treatment, even if unconsciously done.

  Callie sighed and rubbed her forehead. There were better ways to spend her time than to engage in endless self-flagellation.

  “From what you told me, you’re partially responsible for bringing him and his wife together,” Matt said. “Shouldn’t a happy ending release you from your debt?”

  “I can’t screw up this wedding and the promotional event—”

  “You won’t,” he said, stepping so close she could see those beautiful flecks in his eyes.

  “See?” Heart doing crazy somersaults in her chest, she pressed back against the cabinet. “I can’t think when I’m so distracted.”

  He lifted a hand to her face. “First, I’ll be happy to provide lessons on how to remain focused despite distractions. I think the fact that I’m capable of holding this conversation with you...alone...in your condo...a bed just a room away, proves my point. Second, if I promise to let you get plenty of sleep tonight, will that convince you?”

  The conflicting desires—the need to prove herself and the need to feel Matt’s hands on her again—went to war in her head again. If she cut out all the bare essentials, she could do this. Her gaze dropped to the T-shirt stretched across Matt’s chest, hugging the lean muscles beneath. How much sleep did one need, anyway?

  “I think you sold me when you mentioned the lessons,” she said.

  “Good.” The sexy smirk on his face just about did her in, and he stepped back. “Just so we’re clear, I’m going to clean up your cut and take you to bed. So if you still have a problem with that, you need to let me know now.”

  How could he say those words so calmly? Especially with her pulse striving to achieve record rates? The man had stated his plans to take care of her injury and take her to bed, both declarations delivered with the same nonchalant tone as if the two activities were somehow on the same par with each other. She envied his ability to pull the coolly collected demeanor off.

  She felt the need to throw him off guard, to keep him on his toes.

  “Just so we’re clear...” Now that the matter had been decided, she pulled off her bloodstained blouse and tossed the garment aside. “Not only did the corset embellish the goods, the push-up bra I wore that day on the dock made me look bigger than I really am.”

  Holding his gaze, she reached around her back to unfasten her bra, heart thumping hard, record rates achieved. But her pulse shot higher when Matt reached around and gripped her hand, stopping her efforts and putting about an inch of space between their torsos. She stared up at Matt, those beautiful hazel eyes boring into hers. Heat radiated from his body. Or maybe the one generating the scorching temperatures was her.

  His voice low, Matt said, “There is absolutely no way I’ll be able to take care of that laceration with you bare-chested. So leave the bra on.” A muscle in his jaw ticked, and she had the absurd urge to ease the spot with her tongue. “At least until I’m done.”

  This last was delivered with a light in his eye that could melt metal.

  “Nice to know I can at least warrant being labeled a distraction,” she said.

  “Never fear. You definitely fall into the category of a distraction. A major one. Not only did I bring the necessary equipment to clean and close up the laceration on your forehead, I brought a box of condoms, too, just in case you didn’t have any here.”

  Her heart stopped, and then restarted with a stutter. Unfortunately, the faster rate made concentrating on the conversation difficult. She squirmed and he shot her a mock chastising look.

&nbs
p; “You’re going to have to be still,” he said. “All that wiggling is...distracting.”

  Callie closed her lids. Best not to stare up into those hazel eyes. “Do you always have trouble focusing when closing up a woman’s cut?”

  “No, but they are usually dressed in more than a bra.” His voice dropped an octave. “And it’s never been you before.”

  His fingers gently traced around the bruised area briefly and she prided herself on her patience. On her ability to keep her eyes closed with that face and those dreamy eyes so close to hers. She felt his breath warm her forehead, and she gripped the counter, fighting the urge to lean up and take that fabulous mouth with hers.

  She was too distracted by the memory to worry much about the sound of rustling, as if he were searching for something, but then came a brush of something soft and wet, followed by a sharp sting.

  Callie’s lids popped open as she sucked in a breath. “My God.”

  “Sorry.”

  An antiseptic smell drifted from the cotton ball in his hand, and he leaned in and pressed a kiss close to the wound before pulling his head back.

  She stared up at those lips so close. “What are you using to clean the cut? Hydrochloric acid?”

  The chuckle that followed brought a wry twist of her lips. “How did you guess?”

  Callie studied Matt’s face as he gently pinched the skin around the cut and applied the liquid skin adhesive. She concentrated on breathing, the sound of the air conditioner humming, anything to keep herself from rising up on tiptoe to kiss Matt, which wasn’t easy. She had firsthand knowledge that he kissed like a dream. He hadn’t needed much to bring her to her knees that day on the dock, just his mouth and those fabulous hands.

  When he finished, he dropped his hand. “Now, be careful not to open that up until it has time to dry.”

  “Is that going to interfere with you taking me to bed?”

  “Hell, no,” he said, and then he covered her mouth with his.

  At first it was just a damp press of skin against skin, his mouth slotted against hers. The heat in Callie’s belly increased, seeping along her veins, and she rose up on her toes, taking more. With a groan, Matt opened his mouth, forcing Callie’s open and tasting her with his tongue. He tipped his head to the right, and then to left, as if comparing how they best fit together. Heart thumping, Callie was just about to pull back and suggest moving things to the bedroom when Matt leaned down, gripped her behind the thighs and lifted her.

  Callie pulled her head back. “Wait,” she said with a gasp that contained both humor and desire, clutching his shoulders for balance. “What’s your plan for providing lessons on how to remain focused despite distractions?”

  The crooked smile on Matt’s face sent anticipation and heat curling up in her stomach, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. With one hand against her bottom, he supported her weight as he pulled the box of condoms from his bag.

  “No worries.” He exited the bathroom, heading up the hallway and into her bedroom. He placed her on the bed, staring down at her with a heated look that sent her stomach searching for her toes. “I’ll think of something.”

  His gaze swept down her body, the hazel eyes growing dark, and goose bumps fanned across her skin. Without a word, he pulled off her sandals and stripped her of her clothes, until all that remained were her panties and bra.

  She pushed up on one elbow and reached for his shirt. “Let me help.”

  Matt gently pushed her back down, the crooked smile sinfully sexy. “No,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself and pull that head wound back open.”

  “Then what am I supposed to—?”

  Matt gripped her wrists and raised her hands over her head, curling her fingers around the wooden slats of her headboard. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss next to her cut.

  “Your job is just to hold on and not move,” he said.

  A stab of desire sliced through her, heating her between the legs. “Not move?” she asked. “But how am I supposed to—”

  Matt reached for the button on his shirt, and she watched, mesmerized, as he undid the row of buttons one by one and tossed the shirt aside. His eyes on hers, he reached for the front of his jeans, and Callie’s heart picked up its pace. The muscles in his arms and chest rippled as he flicked open his pants and pushed everything down. Lean hips, well-muscled thighs and a heart-attack-inducing erection left Callie struggling to continue the act of breathing.

  “Matt...”

  The words died as he knelt at her feet, removing her bra and panties. She waited for him to kiss her. Instead, Matt picked up her leg, pressing openmouthed kisses up her shin, her thigh, and then landing on her hip bone.

  “The key to keeping that incision safe,” he murmured against her skin, “is to remain completely still.”

  She arched her back, hoping to encourage him to head south. Instead, he trailed higher until his tongue dipped in her navel, sending a skitter of sparks up her spine. He cupped her between the legs and shifted higher, his mouth moving up until it landed on a nipple.

  Shock and desire shot through her limbs, and she arched her back, seeking more of that mind-blowing mouth against her skin. Matt circled the tip with his tongue, and Callie sucked in a breath. But just as she was melting at the caress, he ran his tongue down her abdomen, across her hip and landed between her legs.

  Heat and pleasure blasted through her. “Oh, my God, Matt,” she said, tipping her head back.

  When Matt flicked his tongue against her, Callie whimpered, “Please...”

  She wanted to wrap her arms around his back and pull his body down. She wanted his naked skin stretched out across the top of hers. She wanted to reach down and clutch his head, pulling him closer.

  Fingers tight around the headboard, she said, “Can I let go yet?”

  “Nope,” he said. At least this time his voice sounded harsh, as if he were wound up tight and needed release.

  Jeez, she knew how he felt.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  He sat up on his knees, and Callie’s breath escaped with a protesting sound. Palms damp against the wooden slats of the headboard, she watched Matt apply a condom, her fingernails digging into her palms. Eyes homing in on hers, he swooped up her body and buried himself deep between her legs. His pace relentless, he rocked into her.

  Mind spinning, muscles straining, she struggled to keep her hold of the headboard as he moved. The intensity in his gaze and the dark, focused look on his face brought her closer to the edge. His body hard, Matt drove her higher, the muscles in his arms lengthening and bulging from his efforts.

  “Matt.”

  “Okay.”

  His one-word response brought a cry of relief, and Callie wrapped her arms around his back, her legs around his hips, holding him close. Urging him on. Hanging on tight. The heat of pleasure burned hotter, brighter, until Callie was sure she’d burst into flames. Feeling out of control, she gripped his shoulders harder. The orgasm burst outward, shock waves moving through her body, and she closed her eyes, relishing the sensation, barely aware as Matt gave one final thrust, calling out her name.

  SEVEN

  The next morning, awareness came to Matt in layers, each one better than the one before. Slowly he became cognizant of a comfortable bed, of soft sheets and Callie’s hair tickling his cheek, his hand resting on her hip. Her body lay lax, her breathing deep and even as she slept. For a moment he enjoyed the simple pleasure of holding a beautiful woman in his arms. A lazy morning where he had nothing he needed to do and no place he needed to be. Even better?

  The potential for a repeat of last night.

  He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time and not just because of the sex. Although the activities went a hell of a long way at taking the edge off the tension he’d been ca
rrying around since he’d first laid eyes on Callie. The great sex left his body humming.

  A buzzing sound caught his attention, and he peered over Callie’s shoulder. His cell phone vibrated madly, inching across the nightstand in its efforts to get his attention. When it went to voice mail, his phone flashed. Five missed calls.

  Damn.

  Panic punched him, and he bolted upright in bed, picturing Tommy calling for help. The emergency room trying to contact him about his brother being brought in for an overdose. The police calling to deliver the tragic news...

  The house was dark when Matt entered—not a peaceful stillness, but the eerie kind that filled him with dread. Suffocating. Terrifying. Anxiety crawled up his spine as he headed up the hallway and called out Tommy’s name, getting no answer. He knew his brother was home because his car was in the drive.

  When he spied his brother’s bedroom door cracked open, Matt’s steps slowed, his pulse increased and goose bumps prickled his neck, spreading throughout his limbs. His heart hammered in his chest as he slowly pushed the door open, and certainty slid into place when he saw Tommy lying on the floor, pale, as still as death.

  Matt slammed his eyes shut against the memory, nausea rising in his stomach and tightening his chest. How could he have forgotten to check in with Tommy last night?

  Matt fought to control his breathing, cursing under his breath, mindful of Callie sleeping next to him. He glanced down. Fortunately, she still appeared to be deep in sleep. Matt rolled out of bed and stood, reaching for the phone. As he scrolled through the missed calls, his heart continued to pound, no matter how much he told himself to calm down.

  Every voice message was from Tommy, which meant he wasn’t dead. At least not yet.

  Relief poured through Matt, and he leaned against the wall, bracing his hands on his knees. Willing himself to friggin’ get a grip.

  Once he felt steadier, he padded down the hallway and into Callie’s living room. Hitting Tommy’s number, Matt collapsed onto the couch and braced for the topic.

  Tommy voice sounded worried. “Where the hell have you been?”