by Lucy Kevin
Table of Contents
The Wedding Song
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
BOOKLIST
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The Wedding Song
Book #3 in the Four Weddings and a Fiasco series
© 2012 Lucy Kevin
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Tyce Smith, the DJ and band leader for the top wedding venue in San Francisco, hasn’t written a new song in five years. Not since the fateful night he kissed the woman of his dreams, and she left him with nothing but a first name and no way to find her. When fate steps in a second time, he can’t make the mistake of letting her run again…even if the hurdles in the way of true love seem bigger than ever.
After Whitney Banning comes face to face with the man she’s never forgotten and knows she never will—how is she supposed to stop herself from dreaming again? Especially when the desires she buried so long ago are sparked back to life by one dance, one smile, one more forbidden kiss…and a brand new song about a love that will last forever.
Chapter One
The reception for the wedding at the Rose Chalet was in full swing, but Whitney Banning wasn’t dancing yet. For the moment, she was leaving the dancing to Aunt Marge, who was whirling around the floor with her new husband.
Her aunt looked especially beautiful and Whitney hoped Marge would finally find the happiness she deserved with her third husband in as many years. Besides, Whitney thought as she looked down at the blue taffeta bridesmaids dress she was wearing, she really didn’t think a fourth Gone With The Wind themed wedding was a good idea. If for no other reason than the fact that no one—absolutely, positively no one—looked good in blue taffeta.
The music stopped and Marge caught her eye, then made her way over to the corner of the hall where Whitney was standing.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
Whitney hugged her aunt. “Of course I am. I’m just sorry Kenneth couldn’t be here.” Her fiancé had been in Hong Kong for the past couple of weeks on business and would likely be away for another dozen weeks. “A text was waiting for me this morning, asking me to tell you ‘Congratulations’ on his behalf.”
“I’ll look forward to the four of us raising a toast together when he returns home,” Marge said with a smile. She put her arms around her niece. “I’m so glad you could be here today, honey.”
The business of managing the Banning empire had kept her away from Marge’s first two weddings. Whitney had been determined to make it this time, though. She wasn’t about to miss her aunt’s wedding three times running.
Even with bridesmaids’ dresses like this one.
Marge glanced over to where another of the bridesmaids was dancing, her artfully braided hair flying free as she did so. “Annette seems to be having a good time.”
“Annette always does,” Whitney said, her affectionate smile laced with mild exasperation. Her cousin looked enough like her that they could have been sisters, but somehow, Annette always managed to dodge the duties that kept Whitney so busy.
“You always were the sensible one,” Marge said. “Just, don’t be too sensible today.”
“In this dress?”
Her aunt smiled at that. “It’s a very lovely dress, as I’m sure half the men in the room would agree if you weren’t already engaged to Kenneth. Speaking of men, I’ve found someone absolutely perfect for Annette. Or maybe Georgia.”
“You know how they feel about your attempts at matchmaking,” Whitney reminded her aunt. “I think you’re just looking for an excuse for another wedding.”
Marge laughed. “Am I that transparent?”
“Yes,” Whitney said, but she was laughing as she said it.
“Today has been wonderful,” Marge said as she tucked her arm into Whitney’s. “Just think, in four months it will be you walking down the aisle with Kenneth. Your wedding is going to be so lovely.”
Every time someone mentioned her upcoming wedding, Whitney was taken by surprise. Even in the middle of Marge’s wedding, it was hard to picture herself standing in front of friends and family with Kenneth, waiting to be pronounced husband and wife.
Pushing away a twinge of uncertainty at the hard-to-form vision, Whitney followed her aunt’s gaze over to the string quartet which had just finished playing the score of Gone With The Wind. A tall, broad-shouldered man shook their hands as they put down their instruments, then walked over to a laptop at a corner of the stage. He hit a few keys, starting up a pulsing beat clearly intended to move the party into a higher gear.
Half hidden from her view by the wedding guests, Whitney caught a few glimpses of spiky dark hair and a tattoo curling just below the man’s rolled up sleeves.
“Excuse me for a minute,” Marge said as she headed toward the stage.
A strange buzzing moved up Whitney’s spine. There was something familiar about the Rose Chalet's music director. She took a few steps to the side to try to get a better look, but Annette blocked her view as she danced over, hips swaying in time to the beat.
“Now this is more like it. Come on, Whit, let’s dance.” Annette gestured to the other wedding guests. “There are lots of good looking men here you could grab for a song or two.”
“I have Kenneth,” Whitney pointed out patiently. There wasn’t any point in being offended by Annette’s suggestion.
“That shouldn’t stop you from dancing.” Annette looked over at the stage where Marge was talking animatedly with the music director. “Mmm. Aunt Marge has taste. I wonder if she’s planning to bring him over.”
“Probably. She said something about having found the perfect guy for—”
Whitney’s words dried up on her tongue as her aunt moved aside enough for her to get a clear view of the man’s face.
Oh God. It couldn’t be him.
It just couldn’t.
“She was talking about what?” Annette demanded, but all Whitney could do was blink and stare, then blink and stare some more. “Come on, Whit. You aren’t thinking about something boring like business when you should be telling me about gorgeous guys, are you?”
No, she wasn’t thinking about business at all, actually.
Instead, she was completely fixated on the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen.
The most gorgeous man she’d ever kissed.
Tyce was every bit as good looking as he’d been the last time she’d seen him. More so, if anything, to the point where women were actually turning to stare at him open mouthed as he walked across the room with Aunt Marge.
Straight towards her.
She hadn’t seen him at the ceremony, likely because he was busy setting everything up for the reception. If only she’d gotten here early enough to check in on things in the reception hall, she might have caught a glimpse of him earlier...and figured out an exit strategy before now.
Her heart pounding in time to the driving beat of the music, she said, “Annette, I need to leave. Can you tell Marge that I’m sorry, but—”
“Oh no,” Annette said with a shake of her head as she put her arm around Whitney’s shoulders and held her in place. “This is Marge’s big day. Well,” she amended, “it’s her third big day
, anyway, and I am absolutely not going to let you run out of the party just to go to work on some boring presentation.” Whitney was surprised by the firm set of her cousin’s chin as she said, “And I’m definitely not covering for you if you do.”
Shooting a panicked glance toward Marge and her companion, Whitney worked to slide herself free of her cousin’s grip. “What about all the times I’ve covered for you?”
Annette looked uncharacteristically serious. “Not going to happen. You weren’t here for the last two weddings, and look what happened.”
Whitney stood there open mouthed. “You are not trying to pin Marge’s two divorces on me, are you?”
Annette shrugged. “All I know is you weren’t there and I ended up having to wear this ugly dress three times. For all we know, you might be the good luck charm she was missing at the first two weddings.”
Her cousin thought Whitney was good luck?
On the contrary, she clearly had the worst luck of anyone in the room.
Feeling her heart pound and her palms grow sweaty, she still couldn’t believe she was finally coming face-to-face with the man who had haunted her dreams for so long...or how utterly, completely rotten the timing was.
Maybe if they had found each other again two or three years ago, it wouldn’t be such a disaster. But she was engaged to be married in four months.
Here, at the Rose Chalet.
Where Tyce worked.
As she watched him move closer with her aunt’s arm tucked into his side, Whitney wondered how it was that after planning three weddings at the chalet, her aunt hadn’t mentioned him once.
Whitney knew she should be poised for flight, to tear free from Annette’s grip and make a run for the door. The problem was, she not only couldn’t take her eyes off of his muscular body and square jaw, she couldn’t get her feet to move either.
How could she go when she’d longed for this moment—for the chance to see Tyce one more time, to touch his hand, to stare into his beautiful eyes—for so long? To give it up would have torn her in two.
A moment later Tyce was stepping around Annette, and Whitney was finally able to look up at him. As she drank in the depths of his dark eyes, the strength of his beautifully masculine features, he sent so many different feelings spinning around inside of her.
Excitement.
Fear.
And pure, sensual attraction.
“Now I’m afraid Whitney is strictly off limits, Tyce, as she’s getting married here herself just four months from now,” Marge said with an affectionate smile. “The Banning business empire would fall apart without her.”
For a second or two it was hard to think of anything to say at all as her heart leapt even faster in her chest and her breathing quickened. It was little comfort that Tyce seemed to have the same problem. He stood there staring like he couldn’t believe it was actually her.
Whitney recovered first, but then, she’d had a few minutes to process her shock at seeing him again.
“Hello, Tyce.”
“Hello, Whitney.”
There was so much layered into the way they were looking at each other, and the four words they’d said to one another, that Whitney was amazed her aunt couldn’t see or hear it.
Tyce reached out a hand for her. “Would you like to dance?”
Whitney’s heart skipped a beat at how beautiful his smile still was, and how familiar, even after so many years.
She knew she ought to say no, that she should leave the past in the past where it belonged. Yet now that she was faced with all the emotions, hopes and dreams that welled up in her at seeing Tyce again, Whitney didn’t have even the slightest chance of doing anything but putting her hand into his...and saying, “I’d love to.”
Chapter Two
Electricity jumped along Whitney’s skin as his strong fingers curled around hers and he led her onto the dance floor.
“You shouldn’t have asked me to dance, Tyce.”
He gazed down at her, so exquisitely handsome, so real, so there, that Whitney felt her stomach flipping over just looking at him. He had such a magnetic presence, that even slow dancing with her, he was as attention-grabbing as a rock star walking on stage in a stadium.
“Are you telling me that you don’t want to dance?”
Unable to lie, Whitney said, “You should have picked one of my cousins to dance with instead. Annette would have loved it.”
“I didn’t want to dance with them, Whitney. You’re the only one I want to hold.”
Oh God. He shouldn’t be saying that. Not now. Not when she had a fiancé.
And yet, even when she should have been pushing out of his arms and walking away, with his arms wrapped around her as they danced to a slow song, she couldn't help but breathe in his scent, masculine and clean. All these years, she’d remembered that scent, the memory of it coming back to her on the edge of dreams far too often.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against her hair. “So beautiful, I can hardly believe you’re here. Finally with me again.”
Every cell in her body—and her heart—responded to his sweet words. Other men had told her she was beautiful, but it had never mattered this much.
And that was just the problem. Tyce mattered too much, even after just sixty seconds in his arms. Another sixty and she’d be forgetting everything. Her family, her job, her fiancé, the future she already had planned.
A future that didn’t include Tyce.
Steeling her voice to be crisp, she said, “We can’t do this, Tyce. Things have changed since the last time we saw each other. It’s been a long time.”
“Trust me,” Tyce replied softly, “I know exactly how long it’s been.” He pulled her a little closer and her body betrayed her by melting against his strong, hard muscles. “It’s been much, much too long.”
Five years.
Five years since they’d last been this close to one another.
Five years since she’d felt the heat of his skin touching hers, the strength of his arms around her.
Five years from the one night they’d spent together in San Francisco.
And yet as Tyce led their dance, his arms strong and gentle all at once, Whitney could still remember every moment of it like it had been yesterday.
* * *
Five years ago...
“Whitney,” Annette said, tugging at her arm, “come on. The headliner will be on in a minute!”
“I just need some air,” Whitney said. “I won’t be long.”
Annette paused, obviously caught between wanting to get back inside the club and feeling that she should stick with her cousin. But when Whitney waved her away and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll come back inside soon,” it was all the encouragement Annette needed to plunge back into the press of the club.
Whitney pushed out of the fire door at the side of the club and stepped into an alley, illuminated with lights strung between the brick walls. The barest hint of fog was coming in over the bay and Whitney slipped her arms into her coat as the catchy melody of the last song performed by the opening act, a band called T5, ran on repeat in her head.
Neither she nor Annette had heard of T5 and her cousin had initially suggested they get to the club late to just catch the headliner. But considering this was Whitney's last big night out before having to formally take over her father’s responsibilities in the family business, she had insisted on coming on time so that she wouldn’t miss out on even a minute of freedom.
She was more than glad that she’d heard the opener play. T5 had been electric. More to the point, the singer had been incredible. He was gorgeous, but she’d been struck by more than just his good looks.
He’d sung with such passion. Such conviction. On the rock numbers, he’d totally taken over the stage. On the slower ones, it had been like he’d been singing just for her.
She smiled at that fanciful thought, sure that every girl in the room had felt that same way.
Suddenly, Whitney heard a whimper come fr
om behind some garbage cans a little further up the alley. She’d once planned to go to veterinary college and had majored in animal science at UC Davis, so she knew how to work with animals. She hoped this one wasn’t too hurt, or too scared to let her close.
She stepped around the garbage cans and found the dog. Its fur was matted in a way that made it clear it had been outside for a while, and she guessed it was part terrier. It wasn’t wearing a collar, and when it trembled and backed away from Whitney, she could see that it was limping to try to keep weight off of its left front paw.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Whitney said. The dog looked up at her and then yipped. Fortunately, it wasn’t growling, which meant she might be able to assess its injuries. “I hope you’ll let me help you.”
The poor little dog was obviously hurt, not to mention starving and filthy. “I just need to find something to bandage your paw with and then we’ll find you something to eat.”
The dog’s ears unflattened a bit as if it understood exactly what she’d just said.
“Do you need help with something?”
Whitney immediately knew who had joined them. After all, she’d just spent the last hour listening to that marvelous low voice.
Turning to look over her shoulder, she watched the singer move closer to her. She couldn’t help but be struck by the fact that he looked even better now than he had out on the stage.
“Hi, I’m Tyce. I was in the band that just played.”
“I’m Whitney.”
“And who’s this?” Tyce asked, concern darkening his eyes as he looked down at the ragged little dog.
“I found him in the alley,” Whitney told him. “He’s obviously a stray, and he’s hurt his paw. I was just going to head inside to see if the club has a first-aid kit.”
