Chapter 1
"Where's my groom?" I muttered under my breath.
Tamera Fenmore tore her gaze from the dark clouds rolling in-the same ones I kept my eye on. "Just saw him a few minutes ago." The tension in her voice mirrored mine.
She was the officiant I'd subcontracted for this extravagant creekside wedding at a renowned resort in the intimate upscale community of Sedona, Arizona. Unfortunately, our unpredictable monsoons made late summer a sketchy time of year for outdoor events. A torrential downpour could obliterate this ceremony with very little warning.
That was only one of my worries. We were surrounded by lush green grass, full sycamore trees, and breathtaking red-rock canyons, yet all was not right with this scene-and it wasn't just the crackle of electricity and the scent of rain hanging in the air that set me on edge.
Keeping my voice low, between us, I said, "My groomsmen are missing, too."
I'd only turned my back briefly to mend the strap that had pulled too tight and snapped on the maid of honor's dress. Suddenly I was missing half of my bridal party.
Tamera frowned. "Now would be a good time to panic." Even her lovely British accent couldn't mask her dread.
"This can't be happening." My stomach knotted.
Sure, I'd dealt with MIA grooms before. Ones who'd had their bachelor parties on the eve of the big day-never a good idea-and ended up in the emergency room after a barroom brawl, passed out in a back alley or on a great escape to Sin City.
I hadn't considered Sean Aldridge a flight risk. My bad, because he and his buds were nowhere in sight. While two hundred guests waited for the nuptials to begin, nervously stealing glances at the increasingly ominous sky.
Tamera was all set to head to the front of the event lawn just before the sun started its gradual descent, hopefully breaking through the cloud cover to splash radiant color across the white caps of the flowing rapids. The sound of water rushing over smooth rocks filtered through the trees, mingling with the rustle of leaves as a breeze picked up. Another bad sign. If a storm hit, microbursts and downdrafts could rip through the partially covered east patio where the cocktail reception was to be held, effectively destroying that portion of the evening as well.
Inclement weather had posed a threat for me before, but this was my biggest event thus far and the last thing I needed was drenched and disgruntled guests glaring at the wedding planner-even if it was the bride who'd waved a dismissive hand when I'd repeatedly warned her of the dangers of monsoon season. For fear tents would mar the scenery she'd insisted none be erected.
Meghan Delfino currently paced the polished wooden floor of the elegantly rustic cottage the resort had comped her, so no one caught a glimpse of her stunning one-of-a-kind Carolina Herrera gown. Not until that precious moment when Meghan stepped out of the thicket and paused at the top of the short set of stone steps built into the grassy knoll above the lawn.
Even the steel-nerved father of the bride was ready to walk his pride and joy down the aisle that was lit by ornate lanterns and accented with dozens of elaborate sterling silver and white rose bouquets. Though his patience crept toward agitation, if the darting of his alert hazel eyes was any indication. And they kept landing on me.
Tamera consulted her platinum boyfriend watch. "We're straight-up seven o'clock, Ari. Sun'll be on the move in eleven minutes."
"Damn it. They must be in the bar." I whirled around and marched off. My low heels crunched the underbrush of the nature trail woven through the heavily wooded property and I dodged wayward branches that jutted out onto the path. The wind whispered through the trees, taunting me with its potential to become a menacing howl. Deep-vibrato, rust-colored chimes hanging from limbs added a ghostly effect to the overcast evening, bringing on a razor-sharp vibe. Or maybe that was just my nerves getting the best of me.
I reached the outdoor dining area along the water's edge, the servers already cranking down the tall umbrellas to keep them from toppling over if a violent gust whipped along the creek.
I required less than forty-five minutes of tame weather-the ceremony was to be a quick one. I could move the predinner reception inside if need be, but I desperately wanted the vows to be as Meghan had envisioned.
Not to mention, I needed referrals from this wedding. Bridal consulting wasn't exactly a lucrative business in such a small town, especially when you were an independent planner. And rent didn't come cheap in Sedona.
I blew into the bar with a stiff draft that sent cocktail napkins flying from tables. Gazes snapped to me, but I ignored them, due to my current tunnel vision.
As I'd suspected, I found the rest of my wedding party congregated around two high tops they'd pushed together in the middle of the bar, slamming shots of tequila.
My pulse racing, I simply said, "Gentlemen, tick-tock."
"Hold up. I've got one more round coming," the groom told me before sucking a wedge of lime between his teeth. As though time were not of the essence here.
"You've got a bride ready to say I do," I pointed out, trying to keep the anxiety from my voice. "And a storm brewing."
Sean seemed like a good kid. At twenty-two, he was four years younger than me. Fresh out of college. A bit too early in his adult life to tie the knot, in my opinion, but with his twenty-year-old girlfriend of eight months in her first trimester, it was no surprise a shotgun wedding had been in his immediate future. Especially when said girlfriend was the former Valedictorian of a legendary all-girls Catholic school and the only child of a global communications tycoon.
"Join us, Ari," insisted Kyle Jenns, the best man. He was an easygoing sort, with sandy-brown hair, sky-blue eyes, an athletic build, and a gorgeous smile, all pearly white and vibrant. A college friend of Sean's whom I'd just met when the whirlwind planning had begun. They'd both attended Arizona State University in Phoenix, played football together, and belonged to the same fraternity.
Today was the first time I'd seen Kyle in something other than a tight T-shirt that showed off all of his muscles, the hems of the sleeves always straining against his bulging biceps. Even wearing a tuxedo now did little to conceal his solid frame. Obviously, he hadn't quit the gym after his last season as quarterback.
"You look like you could use a drink," he said in his amiable tone. "One for her, too," he told Grace Hart, the bartender setting out the shot glasses.
"Hi, Ari."
"Nice to see you, Grace." She and I had gone through senior year of high school together. Like me, Grace was one of the very few who'd stuck around after graduation, despite the sparse career opportunities a community of eleven thousand offered. Some of us just couldn't shake the allure of what USA Today called the most beautiful place in America.
"You sure you want one?" she asked.
"If it'll get them closer to the altar, bring it on."
Kyle's grin widened. "Now that's a wedding planner, people. One who'll do a shot with the groomsmen."
Sean nodded. "Give Ari three weeks and you, too, can be on your way to wedded bliss-in first-class style from start to finish." He didn't bother hiding the grimace-not at all directed at me. I couldn't fathom the pressure he was under with his new Forbes list in-laws and a baby on the way. I empathized with Sean, having high hopes for this marriage.
I had high hopes for every marriage. An inherent dream following the horrific parental breakup and subsequent financial fallout I'd lived through years ago. The exact reason why I wouldn't be escorted down an aisle anytime soon. As in never.
"How many has he had?" I asked Kyle.
"Going on his second one. Sean won't slur his vows, I promise. Just needed a little fortification so he doesn't sphincter up when the I now pronounce you husband and wife part comes." He winked. "Couple of wedding-day jitters, that's all. Nothing to worry about."
"Hey, I love Meghan," Sean assured us. "But, come on-she's only two months pregnant. What's the rush?"
Kyle snickered. "You're a lucky SOB and you know it. Meg's a knockout and you're marrying into a crazy-rich family. Too bad she doesn't have a sister. But, hey, if I catch the garter, that means I'll find my own pretty little love slave, right?" His gaze swept over me.
"Use a condom," Sean lamented. "That's all I'm saying, man."
Kyle leaned in close-too close for comfort, making me flinch. I didn't like anyone invading my personal space unless invited.
Despite being good-natured, Kyle exuded enough self-confidence to convince me he had a way with the ladies-and wasn't the least bit hesitant to use that particular gift to his full advantage.
So my nerves jumped to attention when he gave me a suggestive look.
"I'd be your love slave," he said in a low tone. "You can tie me to the bedposts, if you want."
"That's, um ... not really my thing."
"You're not married, are you, Ari? Or otherwise spoken for? 'Cause there's a whole night of dancing ahead of us-"
"Dude." Sean fake-punched his best man in the arm. "She's my wedding planner. Don't hit on her. At. My.Wedding."
Kyle said, "Weddings are the perfect place to meet new women, amigo. And this one's beautiful, smart, possibly single. So why wouldn't I find out if there's something to pursue here?"
I suddenly felt another set of eyes on me. From behind. It was an eerie yet unmistakable feeling.
As Sean and Kyle bantered like I wasn't standing next to them in earshot, I glanced over my shoulder. And lost my breath.
The argument faded into oblivion as my pulse echoed through me, drowning out all other sounds, thoughts, everything.
In the corner up front sat two men, paperwork sprawled across their table. One salt-and-pepper-haired, distinguished looking, older. The other dark-haired and dressed all in black-jeans, boots, and a button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal impressive forearms. Late twenties, maybe thirty. He had a very mysterious air about him, and he was staring at me.
Right at me.
His onyx hair was sexily tousled, as though he'd just rolled out of bed with a woman who'd enjoyed mussing the thick, silky-looking strands. His piercing green eyes held a hint of intrigue and a hell of a lot of don't mess with me. Contradictory signals that sparked my interest.
His face was a chiseled masterpiece. He had strong features with a stone-set jaw, balanced brows, not too thick, not too thin, and a nose that might have been punched a time or two, given the slight bump close to the eyes, but which still managed to look specially crafted to keep harmony with all the sculpted angles. A mouth that easily drew my attention, my gaze lingering on it until I caught myself.
All in all, he was devilishly handsome. Darkly beautiful.
It struck me that I would never consider a man beautiful, thinking it would undermine his masculinity. Not so with this one. He was beautiful and virile. Downright heart-stopping.
I felt a peculiar stirring deep within me. An innate reaction to his edgy perfection.
It seemed as though the blood moved a bit slower through my veins. Thicker, warmer. Molten.
My gaze lifted, our eyes locked, and I was riveted. I still couldn't breathe.
Something flickered in those hypnotic emerald pools of his. Something curious, like a warning to be heeded. Not menacing, but ... definitely intimidating.
Unnerved and surprisingly, intensely aroused, I tore my gaze from the sexy stranger just as Grace brought my shot.
"So, bottoms up," I said as I reached for the tequila, my voice a bit shaky from the unexpected encounter. I finally pulled in a long breath, then gave a quick toast, brevity being the order of the moment. "May the new Aldridge family be blessed with a lifetime of health and happiness." We all touched rims and threw back the booze. Even the burn of alcohol couldn't compete with the simmering inside me created by that heated gaze. But I had business to focus on and resisted the temptation to look over my shoulder again. "Okay, guys. Showtime."
"Damn, you love to crack the whip," Kyle said. "Maybe you ought to rethink your stance on bondage." He raised a hand as though to rest it at the small of my back and escort me out. I instinctively leapt a bit too far out of his reach-and stumbled into a trio of men just coming through the door.
One of them caught me around the waist and held on tight. "Hey, hey there, pretty lady."
Behind us, I heard the scrape on the stone floor as a chair shoved back. A powerful sense of awareness jolted me. I knew exactly who was about to intervene if anyone got too touchy-feely.
But why?
Mumbling an apology, I wrenched free from the semi-embrace of a twenty something with spiky blond hair and an intricately designed diamondback snake tattoo slithering up his neck. A lascivious glint lit his brown eyes, pricking my nerves. He spared a glimpse at Kyle and the others, then asked me, "Looking for real men to party with, sweetheart?"
The entire atmosphere turned tense and everything that followed happened quickly.
Kyle came immediately to my defense, saying in a suddenly sharp tone, "Back off, pal." His chin lifted, his chest puffed out.
Snake-tat guy grabbed me again, more forcefully than I thought he'd intended. I winced as he tugged me to him. "Doesn't look like she was interested in leaving with you, pal."
Three groomsmen instantly threw off their jackets, fueled by tequila.
"No fighting!" I cried out, panic shooting through me. I'd never get another planning gig in this town if I delivered a bloodied bridal party to the event lawn-the Delfinos would make sure of it.
The darkly handsome stranger swooped in, pushing Kyle to the side with a solid palm to the pecs-clearly agitating Kyle further, because his fists balled at his sides. A breath later, the stranger had the spiky-haired blond by the forearm.
"Hands off," he all but growled.
Alarm flashed in the blond's eyes at the sudden and vehement reaction from the intruder-and likely his commanding presence. Snake-tat guy released me instantly. Even his friends backed off.
The stranger twisted the blond's arm and jerked it behind his back before slamming his shoulder to the table, as if freeing me wasn't justice enough.
"Jesus, Bax," the salt-and-pepper-haired companion grumbled, a hint of admiration mixing with his shock as he scrambled to collect the papers getting crinkled.
In a deep, rough voice, the man called Bax said, "Doesn't look like she's interested in leaving with you, either."
Air rushed from my lungs. I stood so close to him, I felt his heat, inhaled his expensive-smelling cologne, absorbed his raw intensity. He glanced my way, his green eyes entrancing, though something foreboding edged the rims of those brilliant irises.
A scowl darkened his visage even more, turning him dangerous in a recklessly thrilling way. I wasn't the reckless sort, yet a scintillating sensation flared within me.
His gaze remained connected with mine as he spoke to the spiky-haired guy. "I think you owe the lady an apology."
"I didn't know she came with a bodyguard," the blond ground out. Craning his neck to look around the broad-shouldered man caging him, he acridly added, "Sorry, sweetheart." The stranger released him and stepped away. The blond skulked off with his friends, muttering "Asshole" under his breath.
"Come on, Ari," Sean said as he gently took my hand-the first wholly innocent gesture in this incident.
Yet I recoiled again, breaking the trancelike gaze with emerald eyes I would never forget, and hissed out, "Everybody stop touching me." My heart thundered as anxiety mounted.
I sidestepped the group. A concerned Grace asked, "Are you okay? I called Security."
"We're good-I'm good," I told her. "Sorry for the trouble. That was all my fault."
"No, it wasn't. I called Security on Tattoo Guy," she said. "He shouldn't have grabbed you. Looked like it hurt."
"It's fine," I lied. My arm smarted.
She whispered, "Who's Dark and Dangerous?"
Clearly, she meant the gorgeous green-eyed stranger. "I don't know."
"Interesting," she murmured. "He's been watching you since you made your grand entrance. He is smokin' hot. The best man is damn good-looking, too. Lucky you, all the way around."
Heat burst on my cheeks. "Not interested," I said, trying to compose myself as the groomsmen paid up and I herded them toward the door.
My pulse still jumped. Not just from the sexy stranger-and the way he'd put an immediate stop to what could have been a disastrous altercation. Competing with the excitement he elicited was a bit of apprehension, because I didn't like anyone moving in too close. These guys bumped against my boundaries. Only one of them hadn't touched me, or tried to.
"Relax, Ari," a groomsman scoffed as he shrugged into his jacket, not knowing the true source of my consternation. "Weddings never start on time."
"Mine do." Feeling that smoldering gaze again, I turned around. The stranger stood facing me-an impressive six-foot-two or-three inches tall. Muscular. Strong. Powerful. Formidable.
His eyes narrowed. My stomach fluttered. I couldn't explain why.
"Thanks," I said tentatively.
His emerald gaze flicked to Kyle before the now-disgruntled best man disappeared out the door, then returned to me. "Try to be a little more careful."
"Right." I bristled slightly at the admonishment but brushed it off. I needed to leave, yet my feet remained rooted where they were. His mesmerizing gaze held me captive. I couldn't breathe again. It took several seconds to return to myself and head to the door.
"Ari."
His tone was low this time. Rich. Sensual. The warm timbre worked its way through my body and slid slowly, tantalizingly down my spine. Chasing away the apprehension. Making me shiver and inciting a tickle along my clit that had my inner walls clenching as my thighs pressed together.
I glanced back. "Yes?" My voice was suddenly much too soft and breathy. I was deeply aroused by the way he so intimately said my name-the fact that he'd paid close enough attention to pick up on it.
His jaw clenched briefly. Then he asked, "Are you all right?"
I stared at him for several suspended seconds. Why did it matter to him?
Given his size and agility, he probably felt duty bound to rescue girls like me, who never went looking for trouble but somehow inadvertently found it from time to time.
"Sure," I finally said, then dragged my gaze away and forced myself to walk out.
I left the bar and directed the men to their places by Tamera, an electric current moving under my skin even though I'd broken the intense eye contact and was no longer in the riveting presence of the devilish stranger.
The changing of color overhead began. The cumulous clouds had miraculously thinned into wispier ones and they captured the light as the sun burned through them, dispersing it in all directions so that fiery blood-orange, gold, and vermillion painted the sky and cast dazzling hues over the sparkling water.
From a parquet platform set off to the side, a pianist and harpist took their cue and eased into a gorgeously haunting version of Aaliyah's "One in a Million." The last of the guests settled in and I signaled the bridesmaids. The adorable six-year-olds serving as ring bearer and flower girl followed.
I slipped off to get the bride, my gaze flitting toward the restaurant, my interest thoroughly piqued.
Bax. What kind of a name was that? First? Last? Short for Baxley or Baxter? I shook my head. No, he definitely did not seem like a Baxter.
Who was he and what had made him come so swiftly to my defense? Even when it had just been Kyle flirting with me, Bax had seemed disturbed by it.
Curiosity clawed at me. I was dying to figure out what the hell had happened in less than fifteen minutes that had compelled him to save me from the claim two men had instantly staked.
A rumble of thunder in the distance caught my attention, pulling me from my errant thoughts. I entered the cottage and prepped Meghan for her breath-stealing appearance. As her father escorted her down the aisle, my eyes flashed from the sky to the bridal party to the guests and back. I silently prayed the weather would hold out. I wanted everything to be perfect, but I couldn't control the climate-nor could I keep my mind from wandering. I swore I felt his gaze again. But that was impossible. He wasn't one of the guests.
Clearly, I wanted to feel his gaze.
Heat blazed through me at the mere thought of him, making me uncomfortable, what with the addition of the thick humidity. I wiped a bead of perspiration from my brow. I was more than intrigued, though I doubted that was wise. He wasn't the kind of man one trifled with, and he was quite obviously out of my league. Way too potent, likely the reason for all of that forewarning in his eyes.
Unfortunately, he lingered in my thoughts.
The ceremony turned out flawless-to the casual observer. No wedding ever went off without a hitch, but it was how you smoothed the wrinkles with no one noticing there was a hiccup that made an event a true success.
During the vows, I checked in with the staff responsible for the cocktail reception and the band that would entertain the guests while the bridal party and parents posed for pictures. They were all on standby to move everything indoors at a moment's notice.
Then I headed into the lodge to confirm the dinner preparations were all seen to. I took in the formal setting with a critical eye, ensuring the floral arrangements and intricate decorations were in their appropriate place, all of which created a no-expense-spared ambience-yet another reason I meticulously surveyed the surroundings.
Inspecting the rounds of ten filling the enormous ballroom, and the extended head table at the far end where floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the strategically lit grounds and red-rock formations, I spied a few fixables.
Lifting a tulip champagne flute, I said to the Banquet Manager following me around, "This glass has spots." I handed it over, noting the tremble in my fingers. That was odd. I was usually a very steady person when in my element. But everything about the potentially dangerous encounter in the bar had left me a bit off-kilter.
I examined the plates and flatware to make sure they were all polished. Found two more glasses with smudges. A few napkins with slightly tattered edges. Votives that needed to be replaced. The staff rushed about, adjusting everything to my specifications.
I wasn't obnoxiously OCD. People paid me good money to ensure every little detail was taken care of and that their event was extraordinary and memorable. I owed it to them to have the food and wine served on time. To make sure no one waited for plates to be cleared from in front of them. To keep servers on their toes so they delivered another fork to a guest before the first one even hit the floor.
My painstaking attention to all facets of the process from start to finish was also born of the incessant need to occupy every waking second of my day and keep my mind on all things fresh and new and awe-inspiring-like the symbolism that weddings and other events evoked. I put substantial effort into stepping away from the pain wrapped around my parents' hostile, failed marriage and the inevitable suffering that came from being an only child caught in the cross fire.
Around the last ten or so minutes of the cocktail hour, the sky conspired against me and opened up. The deluge began. A few fat drops served as a prelude before the heavy shower hit. Everyone scrambled to get into the lodge as I urged them off the patio. Three-pronged lightning flashed wildly and the crack of thunder eclipsed the crashing of cymbals as the band's equipment was hastily moved to the foyer.
A harsh wind roared through the terrace while I rushed about with the staff, collecting vases of flowers and hurricane lamps containing pillar candles-now blown out by the gust, the smoky scent wafting on the night air. A couple tipped over. The one I reached for flew off the table.
The shattering of glass on the Saltillo tile lent to the suddenly eerie atmosphere and the sense of urgency to gather everything up. Kyle jumped into the mayhem, snatching decorations quicker than I could and adding them to a service cart. Strands of hair slashed across my face as the undercurrent gained strength.
"Get inside, Ari!" he shouted.
"This is my job!" I insisted as more jagged bolts lit the night. "You're a guest. You get inside!"
"Yeah, right. And leave you out here?" He rounded up the last of the arrangements and all but dragged me into the lodge. We set everything off to the side with the gift table.
My breath labored from the scurrying around-and how close the lightning had struck.
The guests remained dry, thankfully, and incredulous conversations over how fast and furious the tempest had hit were in full swing.
Meghan hurried over, delicately holding up the hem of her gown. "Ari, you're drenched!"
She dropped one side of her fluffy skirt and snatched a clean linen napkin from a high-top table set up specifically in the event the rain didn't hold off until dinnertime. She handed the napkin over and I dabbed at my cheeks and throat while my pulse raced.
"You were so right about the monsoons," she said, contrite. "But at least we got through the ceremony and almost all of the reception. Everything's just gorgeous, Ari!"
"I'm glad it worked out-for the most part."
She waved her manicured hand in the air as she was prone to do. "It's all fabulous. Exactly what I wanted. Well, with the exception of you getting soaked."
"It was worth it. We salvaged just about all of the arrangements."
Meghan had asked me previously to make sure the florist returned for the bouquets at the end of the evening and distributed them to hospices and funeral homes to brighten someone else's day. I thought that was a beautiful gesture.
She leaned forward as though to hug me. My hand jerked up to ward her off.
"Don't you dare," I hastily said, "or you'll ruin your dress." I wouldn't have minded the friendly bit of affection coming from her but I feared spoiling her gown. "You need to get upstairs so dinner can start. And I need to find some towels."
Sean came for her and I turned to Kyle, who was shaking off the rain from his jacket. He gave up and slipped out of it. He raked a hand through his hair and managed to appear dashing despite his slightly unkempt appearance. The wet look totally worked for him.
"Thanks for the save," I said.
"Had to redeem myself, right? I didn't exactly get to be the hero in the bar."
"You really weren't given a chance." It was unfortunate that I couldn't release the image from my mind of the man who had been the hero. Albeit a reluctant one. His scowl had spoken volumes.
Kyle told me, "I'd offer you my jacket but it's no drier than your own clothes."
"I'll be fine."
"What else can I do to help?"
I laughed softly. "I think you've earned your wings, by a lot. You'd better get going, anyway. Formal introductions are about to be made." According to my careful planning.
"You'll save me a dance, right? Or a few?"
His sudden mega-watt grin was contagious, despite my mind being elsewhere. "I'm the wedding planner, remember? Here to work. But you ... Go. Have fun. Enjoy. Eat too much cake."
I tried to shoo him off with a wave of my hand. He lingered a moment or two, as though he had something else to say. He really was very sweet. Valiant. I liked him, no doubt. But didn't want to lead him on. So I was relieved when he spun around and sauntered off, heading to the second floor.
I ducked into the bathroom and used a few plush hand towels to dry my skin and the ends of my hair. I ran one over my blouse and skirt to sop up the drops of water. I couldn't wring out the garments or the material would rumple miserably. I was stuck with moist, clinging clothes because the gift shop was already closed and I hadn't brought a spare outfit. Lesson learned there.
Thus, I kept to the periphery as I made sure the dinner service went off without a hitch. Finally, I consulted with the DJ, who'd take over from this point.
Sometimes I hung around to watch the dancing, because brides and their families typically asked me to celebrate with them, and tonight was no exception. But I was exhausted, having pulled off this particular wedding in such a short, frenzied period-an emotional time, what with the tension gripping everyone over the impending Mrs. Aldridge's delicate condition and concern that the news would ignite a scandal for the high-society Delfinos.
Not to mention all the drama created by the inclement weather and the men I'd encountered this evening. I'd be out like a light when I got home. Looked forward to a sound night's sleep, instead of waking up ten times to run through my mental checklists.
I'd also caught Kyle stealing glances my way, and I really hated the idea of turning him down again. Clearly, he was a good guy. Much more on par with where my interests should lie-rather than with the magnetic stranger, so intriguing and darkly gorgeous. Primed to come to my rescue-
I shook my head. I definitely shouldn't think about him.
After delivering congratulations and good-byes, I went downstairs to the lobby of the main lodge, a log structure that belonged in the mountains of Aspen, but which stunned visitors as it sat nestled in this artistic canyon. The two-story windows highlighted an inspirational landscape that left one speechless the first, tenth, and one-hundredth time they admired the view. Even more so tonight, as they showcased a spectacular display of purple-and-gold lightning veins rippling across the clouds.
I passed through the tall double doors and was greeted by a valet.
"Another happily ever after, Miss DeMille?"
"What a lovely way to put it, Alex. And yes, I think the newlyweds have a very pleasant future ahead of them."
Envy seeped through my veins, but I ignored the sensation. It happened on occasion. Was to be expected, I surmised. I was twenty-six years old, with very few friends-really just a handful of people who knew me from the weddings I worked with them. I dated every now and then, but trying to build my rep as the "It" event planner in the Southwest kept me busy.
I had a very specific goal in mind, a career I was devoted to, one I was completely immersed in and was already plotting to take to the next level. That hadn't exactly panned out for me yet, but I remained diligent. So much so, I'd developed an eagle eye for details, could anticipate needs before expressed, was thoroughly aware of my surroundings so that very few wayward scenarios took me by surprise.
But he did.
Copyright © 2015 by Calista Fox
