The Wedding Reject Table (Choc Lit) (Nashville Connections Book 2)

by Angela Britnell

  The

  Wedding Reject Table

  Angela Britnell

  Where heroes are like chocolate – irresistible!

  Copyright © 2015 Angela Britnell

  Published 2015 by Choc Lit Limited

  Penrose House, Crawley Drive, Camberley, Surrey GU15 2AB, UK

  www.choc-lit.com

  The right of Angela Britnell to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the UK such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London, W1P 9HE

  MOBI ISBN: 978-1-78189-251-0

  EPUB ISBN: 978-1-78189-250-3

  Acknowledgements

  To June – my wonderful book loving, wine loving, life loving friend. A big thank you to the wonderful Tasting Panel members – Sandra, Linda S, Nicky, Carol, Sadaa, Claire & Linda SP – who agreed that the gorgeous Chad was true Choc Lit hero material!

  Contents

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  About the Author

  More Choc Lit from Angela Britnell

  Introducing Choc Lit

  Chapter One

  Maggie couldn’t hold back a heavy sigh as she stared at the wedding reception seating chart.

  ‘Have they stuck you on the RT as well, honey?’

  She glanced back over her shoulder and froze. Smiling right at her was the handsome stranger she’d noticed across the aisle in the church. She’d always been a pushover for a man with intriguing eyes and these were tawny, fringed with lashes so long and dark they should have been illegal, and sparkling with good humour. Stop that right now. You don’t do pick-ups at weddings. It’s undignified and desperate.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Her tone of voice was sharper than she’d intended.

  ‘The Reject Table.’ His deep smooth voice was laced with a delicious warm drawl she could’ve listened to all night. ‘Of course they wouldn’t call it that, they might gloss it over by using the term “Independents”, but we know the truth, don’t we?’

  ‘Do we?’ Maggie bristled. She refused to admit she knew precisely what he was talking about. She’d endured enough of these ritual humiliations while seeming unable to sustain a relationship long enough to change her Facebook status.

  ‘Yeah, sure do. I’m guessin’ your English ones are the same as ours. We’ll have the elderly maiden aunt, the bitter newly divorced third cousin, the grumpy dishevelled organist,’ he counted them all up on his long, well-shaped fingers, ‘and of course the mandatory gaggle of single strays.’

  ‘And which category do you fall into?’ Maggie couldn’t believe she’d asked such a brazen question.

  ‘Take a wild guess,’ he challenged, and stepped closer so his arm brushed against hers.

  God, he smells delicious. The tempting combination of spicy cologne, soap and something indefinably male wafted in the air and would’ve made her swoon – if she was the swooning type. Maggie’s middle name should’ve been Sensible.

  ‘Well, you’re obviously no one’s maiden aunt. The organist was sixty if he was a day and no one could describe you as dishevelled. By the process of elimination I’d say you’re the rogue transatlantic cousin representing the groom’s American grandmother who’s too old to travel.’ As soon as he’d spoken it’d clicked in her filing cabinet of a brain. She hadn’t helped the bride with the seating plans without gathering some useful information.

  ‘Spot on.’ His eyes darkened with surprise. ‘How about you?’ Maggie winced at his direct question. ‘Sorry, sore point?’

  She lifted her chin and contrived to look unconcerned. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Forgive me. I’m forgettin’ my manners all around today. I can’t believe I said that to a beautiful lady.’ He thrust out his right hand. ‘I’m Chad Robertson from Nashville in the great state of Tennessee. By day I’m a music attorney, and by night I turn into the rogue you rightly determined me to be. A single one, if you’re at all interested.’ The almost-question hung in the air between them.

  Maggie’s curt reply dried in her throat as Chad’s strong, warm fingers wrapped around hers in a firm handshake.

  ‘Do you have a name? Fellow single stray.’ Chad’s warm minty breath caressed the skin on her neck as he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

  ‘Maggie. Maggie Taylor,’ she croaked in a distinctly unsexy way. ‘Cake decorator and childhood friend of Fiona, the bride.’

  ‘You’ve got a choice, Miss Maggie, you can eat lukewarm chicken and listen to self-satisfied speeches or sneak away and drink champagne with me in the garden? Which is it to be?’ A playful grin crept across Chad’s face.

  ‘Won’t we be missed?’ Maggie said, out of sheer curiosity. She had no intention of giving in to Chad’s outrageous suggestion for a multitude of reasons – mainly the fact she was here primarily to work, and the time it had taken to get her oldest friend married off was her only reprieve.

  ‘I sure won’t be. Peter barely knows me from Adam and I only met Fiona for the first time yesterday. It might be different for you.’ His gleaming eyes swept down over her and every cell in Maggie’s body vied for attention. ‘I can’t imagine not missing you.’

  She was stunned into silence.

  ‘I’m game if you are.’ Chad offered and Maggie couldn’t resist smiling back.

  ‘There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’ Emily’s exasperated voice broke through the moment and her sister appeared right by them. ‘I need you in the kitchen right now.’ She frowned and grabbed hold of Maggie’s arm. ‘There’s a problem with the cake.’

  Typical. This was her luck in a nutshell. Good-looking, single man appears and flirts with her and naturally she has to go back to work. ‘Don’t panic, Ems, it’ll be alright,’ she reassured and gave Chad an apologetic shrug before turning away. By the time she sorted out the cake her would-be Prince Charming would’ve found himself another Cinderella.

  ‘Sorry to drag you away from the gorgeous hunk you were drooling over,’ Emily quipped. ‘I’ll let you have another go at him as soon as you’ve worked out what to do with that.’ She flung open the swinging door into the kitchen and pointed to what had been the bride’s dream cake. The elaborate pink and white, five-tiered confection made of luscious almond sponge and layered with fresh raspberries was now strewn all over the table and floor, the wreckage resembling a war zone.

  Maggie bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. It was th
e only way to stop from screaming or bursting into tears, neither of which would help the situation. She and Emily had only formed Two Hearts Catering two months ago and this was their first proper contract – she didn’t count providing sausage rolls and cocktail pasties for their Aunt Judy’s sixtieth birthday party a couple of weeks ago. Failing today wasn’t an option. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  Emily launched into a long, rambling story involving the obnoxious five-year-old twin boys belonging to the bride’s sister, a foot race through the kitchen and a search for buried treasure in the precious wedding cake. It was pointless to ask why no one had stopped them because the damage was done now.

  ‘You need to go and help hand around the canapés,’ Maggie said with unnatural calm as she glanced at her watch. ‘We’ve got an hour before the cake has to be in position, although we could stretch it a little if we have to.’

  Emily’s lip trembled meaning she was on the verge of bursting into tears. To say her older sister used her soft, fragile appearance for her own benefit was an understatement. Men routinely fell at her feet professing undying love, but Emily had found her Prince Charming in the form of her fiancé, Jonathan. Maggie only hoped he wouldn’t tire of Emily’s unpredictable behaviour. A few times recently she’d heard him snap at her sister about something she’d said or done, and only yesterday she’d caught Jonathan staring hard at Emily when he thought he wasn’t being watched.

  Giving her credit where it was due Emily’s cooking was out-of-this-world even if her business sense could fit on the head of a pin. The mantle of responsible, reliable half of the company had naturally landed on Maggie. Right now she could do with a shoulder to cry on herself and she briefly allowed herself to recall Chad Robertson’s excellent broad shoulders, the ones framed by his exquisite designer suit.

  ‘But …’

  ‘Go and do what you do best, feed people and be nice to them. Let me worry about this.’ Maggie cut off Emily’s protests and shooed her sister out of the kitchen. She forced herself to ignore the pitying looks being thrown her way by the rest of the catering staff. Taking a couple of slow, deep breaths she tried to settle her churning stomach. Maggie walked over to the sink and washed her hands before putting on an apron to cover up her dark green taffeta dress.

  Then she cleared her head and started to think.

  Chapter Two

  Chad waited a few minutes but Maggie with the captivating smile, tempting curves and sparkling blue eyes didn’t return. Just his luck. If she didn’t come back soon he’d be stuck making polite conversation with the other down-on-their-luck souls on the Reject Table. His colleagues and friends in Nashville would laugh themselves silly. The idea that anyone would seat Chad Robertson anywhere but at one of the best tables would amuse them no end. He hadn’t been the top prize in the recent Music City Bachelor Auction for nothing, raising $50,000 for the local children’s hospital thanks to a bidding war between two of the city’s top hostesses.

  Top of his agenda was to find out more about the fascinating Maggie. She was the first woman in a long time to stir him from the lethargy he’d sunk into recently – one which made no sense for a red-blooded thirty-year-old man with the world at his feet. He couldn’t precisely pinpoint what the attraction was either. The English woman was almost tall enough to look him in the eye but seemed uncomfortable with the fact. Maggie’s outdated dress, natural brown hair ruthlessly pinned up in a bun and minimal make-up made her far from the petite, glossy, well-turned out women he usually dated.

  Yeah, but what about her clear skin, sparkling eyes and kissable mouth? And the hint of vanilla and spice you sniffed when you got close? Telling himself her delicious scent came from cake baking wasn’t doing the trick. He needed to track her down again and soon.

  Chad glanced around the expansive entrance hall dominated by a stunning Victorian chandelier and noticed the classic moulded ceiling and the genuine oil paintings dotted around the walls. He hadn’t had the chance to check out the rest of the place yet but the small, country-house hotel was furnished with enough antiques to make his father extremely envious. Although Chad had been to London several times he’d never made it down to Cornwall before. He liked what he’d seen so far and planned to look around some before heading back to Nashville next week.

  He made his way into the bar where everyone was congregating for the pre-dinner appetisers while they waited for the bride and groom to finish with the photographer. Apart from his aunt and uncle, Chad only vaguely knew a couple of his English cousins but talking to new people didn’t bother him. Most people enjoyed talking about themselves, plus he had the advantage of being a foreigner so would shamelessly turn on his Southern charm.

  Chad decided to start with the young, dark-haired waitress carrying around trays of drinks. He gave her the full force of his smile, instantly making her stop by him. Chad selected a glass of white wine, quite certain it would be lukewarm but not willing to risk the red while wearing a pristine white shirt and new grey linen suit. ‘So, sweetheart, is the food going to be any good?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she beamed, ‘Emily and Maggie are great.’

  ‘Really?’ Chad encouraged, and she happily chattered away, going into lengthy details about the two sisters and their new catering company. Maggie was clearly the brains of the business and her sister the creative cook. But wedding cakes were apparently Maggie’s real love and the waitress claimed she was the best thing going. Chad smiled to himself. He’d thought she was pretty damn good too although he had to concede cake and icing weren’t at the forefront of his mind when he made that summing up. ‘I’d better not keep you away from your work any longer.’ He apologised with a smile and the girl nodded and hurried off.

  Across the room Maggie’s sister was passing around trays of food so Chad inched his way through the crowd until she was within arm’s reach. Emily’s thin shoulders were rigid with tension and her bubbly smile didn’t reach her soft blue eyes. Chad tried to imagine what sort of disaster could befall a wedding cake and failed. Time to work his magic again.

  ‘What are those good-looking nibbles, honey?’ He laid the Southern drawl on as thick as molasses in winter. Chad pointed at the curious things she was trying to foist on people and received an engaging smile in return.

  ‘They’re Scotch eggs. Would you care to try one?’

  ‘Sure. Why not.’ Uh. Maybe because you can see a hard-boiled egg is involved and you hate them worse than okra?

  ‘We wrap herbed sausage meat around the cooked egg before covering it in breading and then deep fry it. They’re very traditional.’ Emily explained and Chad forced his smile to remain intact as he selected one from the tray and took a large bite.

  It took every ounce of good manners Chad possessed not to spit it right back out. The thing was cold making it even more revolting than he’d expected. ‘Interesting,’ he managed to say and caught the hint of a genuine smile lurking around Emily’s mouth. Now he could see the resemblance to her sister.

  ‘Peter loves them but they’re not my favourites either if that’s any consolation.’ Her dry summing up allowed him to agree.

  The sound of a loud gong being rung several times stopped their conversation and Chad listened to the announcement of the bride and groom’s arrival. In a few minutes he’d have to find his table with no hope of a reprieve.

  ‘Excuse me. I must go and make sure dinner is ready to serve,’ Emily explained.

  ‘Of course.’ He couldn’t logically keep her there much longer. ‘Oh, by the way, did you solve the cake problem?’

  She paled under her freckles. ‘Maggie promised me everything will be fine. She’s never let me down and I’m sure she won’t today.’

  A lump tightened Chad’s throat and he tried to convince himself it was undigested cold sausage rather than unwelcome emotions. He was pretty sure his brother wouldn’t make the same observation about him. Being ten years apart they’d never been close as boys, and as adults the combination of geography, lifestyle
differences and a lack of effort meant they rarely met these days. When they did see each other there was none of the companionship he’d spotted between the two sisters.

  ‘She strikes me as the kind of girl who’d stick to her word.’

  Emily gave him a curious look, blatantly sizing him up. ‘Really? Considering you only met her an hour ago I can’t imagine how you could possibly know that.’

  He was being given the cold English attitude he’d heard about. How did they do it while still sounding so polite? ‘Well, isn’t she trustworthy?’ He went on the offensive and got a mild kick of pleasure when she nodded. ‘By the way I never did introduce myself. I’m Chad Robertson, cousin of the groom. I’d shake your hand but you might drop those delicious eggs.’ His tone was teasing but he was happy when Emily managed a slight smile.

  ‘I see why Maggie was annoyed at me dragging her away now.’

  A rush of heat flamed up his neck at the pithy comment and for one of the few times in his life Chad found himself speechless.

  ‘Enjoy your meal.’ Emily breezed off leaving him standing there with the remains of a Scotch egg in his hand. Making sure no one was looking he deposited it in the nearest plant pot and reluctantly followed everyone into the dining room.

  The things he did for his grandmother.

  Maggie nibbled at her lip and concentrated. If this didn’t work Fiona might never speak to her again. She’d cleaned up the floor first – being sued because someone broke their leg slipping on the sticky mess was the last thing they needed. Next she’d salvaged what she could from the remains on the table and retrieved her emergency box of supplies from the car. With a reserved slab of almond cake and a big container of butter cream icing she would do her best. Maggie had forgotten to put in any extra raspberry puree but it was too late to fret over that now. There was no way she could transform this disaster back to the five tier creation she’d spent the last two days working on so it was time to make up a Plan B.