Don't Tell the Wedding Planner

by Aimee Carson

  He definitely could have used her steady presence during the worst of Tommy’s addiction years.

  “Tell me,” she said softly.

  The tight knot in his chest unwound a bit. “Jesus, Callie,” he groaned out. “It’s like taking the potential for disaster and multiplying the bloody thing by a hundred.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He dragged a hand through his damp hair, knowing he was leaving tufts sticking out in all directions. “I’m talking about Tommy relapsing and dragging Penny down with him.” He scowled in an attempt to mask the all-consuming fear as he considered the alternative. “Or vice versa. If she starts using again, how is Tommy going to resist temptation?”

  Fear gripped him, and he hated himself for succumbing to the familiar emotion.

  He shifted on the couch again. Now that he was on a roll, the words spilled out. “Or let’s say they do manage to stay clean while they’re together. What happens if the relationship tanks? Because let’s face the facts here. Two former users probably aren’t the most stable of sorts. How would Tommy handle the stress of a breakup and not be tempted to slip?”

  Callie pursed her lips in thought as she reached for her glass and took another sip of wine. “Every relationship has the potential to tear a person down.” She set her drink aside and met Matt’s gaze again. “And this one is no different.”

  He briefly pressed his lids closed, wishing the logic helped. “I know.”

  But how many ran the potential to lead to something so dark? So permanent? Because nothing was more permanent than death.

  Callie crossed her arms across her chest. “Tommy and Penny understand each other better than anyone else ever could. Yes, they could bring each other down. There’s no doubt about that.” She didn’t sugarcoat the words, even allowing more time for them to sink deep before going on. “But I happen to believe they’ll hold each other up.”

  He hiked a brow dryly. “Yeah, well, you arrange weddings for a living. Your favorite character is Elizabeth Bennet, a woman who conveniently managed to fall in love with a man who could save her family from destitution. A fairy tale.”

  “Pride and Prejudice is not a fairy tale.”

  Matt hiked a brow. “Close enough. Seriously, Callie, real life rarely works out like that.” He let out a self-directed scoff. “You see happily ever after around every corner, but I get to patch people up after they beat the crap out of each other.”

  I get to be the lone family member left to pull my brother out of the gutter, over and over again.

  “Did you have a bad shift tonight?” she asked.

  Hell, yeah.

  “Kind of,” he said instead. Despite the topic of conversation, Matt fought a smile, his lips twitching at the memory. “The chief of staff argued with the head of E.R. about transferring a patient, a divorcing couple had a screaming match in triage and two best friends showed up because they’d beat the crap out of each other over a computer game.”

  Callie rolled her eyes. “The friends were guys, I’m assuming.”

  “Yeah. It started out as a joke and ended up fairly ugly,” Matt said. “To be fair, a case of beer had been consumed, so I’m not sure you can hold them completely accountable for their stupidity.”

  “Of course you can hold them accountable,” she said. “There’s no excuse for being stupid enough to drink so much alcohol that a computer game becomes more important than a friendship.”

  Callie leaned forward and came closer to the screen, lying on her belly and folding her arms on the bed. The new position brought her close enough for him to see the light in her eyes. This time the spark was earnest, nothing playful about it at all.

  “Penny needs you right now, Matt. She’s going to be a sister of sorts, and you owe it to your brother to start this relationship out on the right foot.” A line appeared between her brows. “Don’t make Penny keep paying for the same mistakes over and over again.”

  Callie was right. He knew she was right. Penny and Tommy both deserved Matt’s unconditional support. But so far, he’d let fear rule his reactions. The habit would be difficult to break because the fear ran so deep that nothing short of a scalpel could cut the sucker out, and even that would take a significant piece of Matt during the process.

  He’d just have to carry on with the fear firmly in place.

  Matt blew out a breath and studied the woman on the screen, wishing like hell they were in the same room. “Man, I wish I could touch you right now.”

  A glimmer appeared in her eyes. “Tell you what,” she said. “If you agree to at least have a conversation with Penny about the wedding, I’ll let you watch me touch myself.”

  The bark of shocked amusement slipped out even as Matt’s heart set up a pounding pace beneath his sternum. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “I’m deadly serious.”

  He eyed Callie’s cleavage, the potential blooming and bringing all sort of delicious scenarios to mind. “How many glasses of wine have you had?”

  “I just had a conversation with my mother,” she said dryly, “which rarely goes well. The numbing effects of two glasses of wine are about the only way I can survive our conversations. Unfortunately, that’s just enough alcohol to also make me reckless—” a huge grin crept up her mouth “—but not enough to excuse me from my stupidity.”

  Callie dropped the robe down her shoulders and tossed it aside, leaving her lacy tank and the curve of her breasts displayed. The view on Matt’s screen improved considerably.

  “I’ll touch mine if you’ll touch yours,” she said smoothly.

  The libido-punching words and the seductive look on her face morphed his blood into flaming rivers of fire, licking along his limbs. He fisted his hand, fighting the groan.

  He’d give anything to able to reach through the screen and pull Callie onto his lap. His mind filled with images of his time with Callie: the wet shirt plastered against firm breasts, her cheeks flushed, her mouth parted as she convulsed around his fingers in the hammock.

  Even better? Callie beneath him as she’d urged him on in her bed.

  On screen, she reached for the hem of her lacy tank and pulled the fabric over her head.

  Callie now sat there, beautiful breasts exposed, her top dangling from her finger. “So what do you think?”

  His voice hoarse, he said, “I think what they say about cameras is right.”

  “What do they say?” she said as she tipped her head curiously, a lock of honey-colored hair falling across her cheek.

  And a bare-chested woman had no right looking so innocently adorable and sexy and sophisticated, all at the same time.

  “The lens does add five pounds.” A teasing grin tried to hijack his mouth. “Specifically, 2.5 to each side. You look bigger, even without the corset.”

  She threw back her head and laughed, and the sound soothed away the lingering bits of his bad mood, courtesy of a shift with patients who’d brought their arguments into his E.R. Matt’s muscles relaxed as the tension slipped away.

  Callie scooted forward and propped her elbows on the bed, her breasts now hanging in full view of the camera. The immediate reaction of Matt’s libido almost did him in, tenting his sweatpants in an embarrassing way, and he tried to discreetly ease the pressure by tugging on his waistband.

  “Careful,” Callie said, “or I’ll hit the minimize tab on the screen, and you’ll look much smaller.”

  A hoarse chuckle escaped. “Don’t you dare.”

  Though God knows he had bigger worries to be concerned about, like the fact that moving air in and out of his chest suddenly felt complicated.

  “I haven’t been sleeping well.” Her tone husky, she slowly slid a hand down her stomach. “You?”

  His voice felt raw. “No.”

  “If you agree to ta
lk to Penny, I’ll let you watch me masturbate.”

  His already straining erection strained some more, and his groin grew so tight he thought he’d crack in half. Christ, every muscle was tensed and ready and willing and able, urging Matt to do exactly whatever Callie asked.

  But wouldn’t he be better off calling a halt to this impossible relationship now? Every interaction led him further and further down a slippery slope. He’d shown up in New Orleans to find a wedding planner and leave, but had wound up staying for two weeks. He’d left for home with the plan of returning for the wedding, and moved heaven and earth to free up some time for another trip back. Until eventually breaking things off felt impossible.

  “And then I can watch you do the same,” she said.

  “You want me to masturbate on camera for you?”

  “Why not?” she said. “We’re both grown-ups. If I sign off now, what will you do?”

  “Take care of this myself.”

  “What’s a little video sexting other than a way to challenge ourselves? You know, up the ante on our third-base event on the dock.”

  “So now, instead of third base we’re...what?” He quirked a teasing eyebrow. “Hitting zero base?”

  “You wouldn’t want to deprive me of the pleasure of watching, would you?”

  Desire shot through his limbs, his heart slamming in his chest, and he tugged on the leg of his briefs, dying to provide a little relief.

  “Why are you so intent on this little endeavor, anyway?” he asked.

  “You look like you’ve had a crappy day.”

  “I did.”

  The arguing of the administrators had been prolonged and, as with most management types, full of a lot of hot air as both sides seemed intent on hearing themselves speak. Matt just wanted to provide appropriate care for the patient. But the scene had morphed into Matt being thrown into the mix of two men running for political office. And between the fighting friends and the divorcing couple, the evening had ended on a truly sucky note.

  A little sexual release seemed a small pleasure to ask.

  But part of him wondered about the point of this little, well, exercise, for lack of a better word. Callie lived in New Orleans. Callie loved New Orleans. And her business clearly thrived in a city that provided ample opportunity for themed weddings. Matt knew few couples, if any, would travel to Manford, Michigan, to fulfill their adventure wedding fantasies. And he certainly couldn’t move because Tommy lived here.

  The last time Matt had left his little brother for too long, Tommy had almost died....

  Matt slammed his eyes closed, torn between what he wanted now and what he feared would be too hard to let go of later.

  “Matt.”

  He opened his eyes and found Callie had shifted on her bed.

  “Okay,” he said. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll think about having a conversation with Penny.”

  “That’s all a girl can ask,” Callie said.

  A palm cupped her breast and her seeking hand finally slid beneath the front of her boxers. “I have a thing for your broad shoulders,” she murmured. “I have ever since the dressing room.” Her honey words rolled over him, and her thumb began to circle the tip of her breast. “I love the feel of your hard chest against mine when you move on top of me.” The bud hardened and swelled, and blood whooshed annoyingly in his ears. He didn’t want to miss even the tiniest inflection in the drawl.

  Her eyes glazed over. “Picture me spread beneath you.”

  His chest struggled to suck in enough oxygen.

  She looked like every adolescent’s wet dream. Granted, she didn’t have as lush a figure as most centerfolds. But he craved the feel of her skin, her taste on his tongue and the toned legs. The gentle flare of her hips was just enough to entice a man. Her breasts were perfectly formed. As her breath came faster, the tips rose and fell faster with every breath. The hand down her panties moved faster. The fact that he couldn’t see exactly what was going on was almost hotter for the secrecy.

  The only thing he knew for certain was that she was ready for him. If he was in her bed right now, he could pull her beneath him and thrust deep, no foreplay needed. Good God, he closed his eyes and remembered sliding between those silken thighs and into her wet heat.

  With a groan, he reached into his pants and grasped his erection. He ignored the thoughts swirling in his head as he began to stroke himself.

  “Matt—” Callie’s voice cracked.

  “I know.”

  “Hurry,” she said.

  His hand pumped a little harder as he watched her eyes glaze over, her hips start to roll with every movement of the hand between her legs. He grew so tight he thought he’d crack.

  “That’s really...” Her voice trailed off. She sounded out of breath. “Hot,” she drawled.

  “Is hot the agreed upon safe word?”

  “Do we need a safe word?”

  “With you around, hell, yeah.”

  Nothing was safe with Callie around, most of all his sanity.

  Even on screen he could see the flush on her cheeks and her lips part as she began to pant for breath. And while his gaze remained locked on hers, every once in a while he saw her tick her gaze down. To watch what he was doing.

  Frustrated by the constricting fabric, Matt gave up on restraint and tugged his sweatpants down to his thighs before returning his hand to his erection, his hand beginning an intense rhythm. His attention drifted between memories of Callie moving beneath him in bed and the live picture of her on screen. Sweat dotted his upper lip, and the pleasure wound tighter. He remembered the scent of her shampoo and the sounds she made as she clutched his back. Callie whimpered—even that tiny sound held a hint of the South. A second ticked by before he realized the noise had come from Callie and not just his memories.

  “Oh, my God, Matt. I can’t—” Callie’s voice gave out.

  He glanced at her, and suddenly Matt couldn’t suck in the oxygen fast enough.

  Matt had the overwhelming urge to lean forward and lick the computer screen, a sad substitute for the sweet taste of Callie’s skin. Instead, he imagined taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, picturing her writhing against him. He could almost smell the scent of sex, the feel of sweat-slicked skin against sweat-slicked skin. An electric energy pulsed in his groin, demanding to be released.

  Don’t you dare finish first, Paulson.

  “Callie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

  The single, desperate word had the intended effect. Callie arched her back and let out a long, low moan. Despite the soft tone, the sound slammed into Matt, and he closed his eyes, following on her heels.

  Matt had no idea how much time ticked by before he could focus again. Slowly he became aware of his heaving breaths, and he lifted his head to stare at the computer screen. Callie had a dreamy look on her face and a slight smile on her lips.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  Her smile grew bigger. “Aren’t you glad you agreed?”

  A chuckle escaped. “Callie, hitting zero base with you is a hundred times better than hitting a home run with someone else.”

  EIGHT

  Callie weaved her way through the crowded baggage terminal of the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport, dodging passengers and carts loaded with luggage as she looked for Matt. Because of the location of the airport and her condo in relation to her family reunion, he’d insisted on taking a taxi to her place because picking him up would have been out of her way. And they’d be cutting the timing close enough.

  She’d finally pretended to give in. But surprising him as he gathered his bags had been her plan all along. Because Matt had decided to make the trip back to New Orleans again. A special trip, just to see her. And she had e
very intention of making the most of the three-day weekend.

  She knew how hard he’d worked to clear his schedule so he could come back for her family reunion. The effort he’d exerted on her behalf generated a lovely feel-good buzz, along with an anticipation and hope that left her alarmed at her own stupidity.

  Don’t expect too much, Callie.

  She shoved back the warning voices in her head, promising herself not to think negative thoughts. Matt hadn’t gone out of his way to steal an extra couple of days with her just so she could wallow in doubt about the future. She spied a broad back and sandy hair that curled a little at the collar, and pleasure flushed up her back.

  Nope, not a chance. She intended to enjoy every second they spent together.

  She grinned as she tapped one side of a very nice set of shoulders. “Excuse me, sir. Do you have the time?”

  Matt turned, and, if she’d been holding out for a smile, she’d have been disappointed.

  Instead of responding, he hooked his hand behind her neck and dragged her close, her body crash-landing into his. He kissed her without apology, nothing tentative or hesitant about the maneuver. Hot and hungry and brimming with heat, his hard lips moved across hers as if he’d been thinking of nothing else for the entire flight down. Perhaps since last night.

  Maybe for the past two weeks.

  Callie gripped his shirt and pulled him close, moaning into his mouth as she plastered her torso tighter against his. She met him turn for turn, taste for taste. Despite the crowd, she did her best to show him she’d missed him, too. His tongue rasped against hers, want and need and determination stamped in his every action. Like a gentle assault she couldn’t quite fend off, not that she had any desire to do such a ridiculous thing.

  When the need to inhale grew too great, Callie pulled back.

  “Though my appreciation for Skype has skyrocketed, I much prefer face-to-face encounters.” Matt grinned and looked down the front of her blouse, no doubt seeing the lacy cups of her push-up bra. “You hiding a watch down there?”