Page 1 of Baiting His Bride

Mallory

You’ve got to be kidding. I raise my slack-jawed gaze from the diagram on the wedding planner’s tablet. The one full of X’s and O’s and arrows like a coach would sketch out on a pregame whiteboard.

“Second?” I ask, dumbfounded, as I shade my eyes from the late-afternoon summer sun. “I’m in second place?”

“Thrilled, right?” Her perfect smile confirms she’s oblivious to the bewilderment spinning through my mind as she points to the circle with my initials right after the matron of honor in the lineup.

“But why? I figured I’d be seventh, and I was fine with that. Plus, that’s even before her younger sister.”

I mean, sure, Kelsie, the bride, and I pledged the same sorority at the same time and roomed together sophomore year. But since that May, eight years ago, when we both graduated? Kelsie’s been busy dating half of Chicago before falling in love and, for the past eighteen months, planning this event of a wedding. And I’ve been getting an MBA and climbing the corporate ladder.

“Oh,” the planner replies, clicking her tongue. “That’s easy. Your height works well with the groomsman in the second position. The two of you provide that all-important symmetry in the pictures.”

I straighten my shoulders, pulling up to my full five foot nine inches as I tug down the satin of the assigned mint-green dress for this evening’s rehearsal. It fits the other bridesmaids perfectly but makes me look as if I grabbed it off the junior’s rack.

“And who’s the second groomsman?” I’ve yet to meet any of them, besides Sawyer, the groom’s brother, of course. Although while the bridesmaids grabbed some sun by the pool this morning, we could hear them from a mile away as they returned from their fishing expedition on the lake.

My cell buzzes for the hundredth time today as the wedding planner brings up the screen and refers to the diagram again. I glance down at the text from work and shoot off a quick reply while she points to the initials in the circle across from mine. “That would be Carson Bennett, the groom’s best friend.”

There’s no rug under my heels, but suddenly, it feels as if one’s been pulled out from beneath my feet.

“Carson Bennett as in the Carson Bennett?”

What was Kelsie thinking, and why didn’t she give me a heads up?

“The one and only.” The planner leans in and lowers her voice as if we’re two girlfriends, sharing a secret over a glass of wine. “The most eligible bachelor of the year, according to Chicago Magazine.”

I’m about to point out he probably earned that title because his family owns that publication and a dozen more, but before I can, she adds, “I told you you’d be thrilled, right?”

I don’t have a chance to utter the protest that bubbles up in my throat because she takes off toward the gaggle of groomsmen. The throng, each with cigars in hand, are playing what must be a cutthroat game of croquet based on the cheers and challenges that echo across the pristine sun-drenched lawn. And the cash being forked over by a few of the guys.

And without even trying, my eyes land on him, the perfect specimen of a man, who stands a head taller than the half dozen other groomsmen. His designer gray chino shorts match the others but hug an ass and thighs so thick they belong on a professional athlete. Not the thirty-something heir to a media conglomerate who’s bent over a mallet that looks like a child’s toy next to his broad frame.

The early summer sun that warmed my skin in the most pleasant way moments ago suddenly seems blistering.

I’ve never met Carson Bennett, III, but my role as director of public relations for the largest nanotechnology firm in Chicago demands I stay on top of the who’s who in our city. The public officials, CEOs, and movers and shakers we’re competing with for talent. The leaders we may look to for strategic partnerships or for opportunities to support the community.

Which is why I know exactly who Carson Bennett is. And I know everything I need to know about the man. I’ve seen enough interviews to recognize the whip-smart grandson who’s next in line to take over the diverse media company his grandfather founded and still runs. One that owns the newspaper with the largest circulation in Chicagoland. A paper that has printed enough stories about AV Industries for the words to reach to the moon and back.

Carson is astute, but he’s also a laid-back sweet talker with a panty-melting smile, sparkling, crystal-blue eyes, and a reputation as a ladies’ man. Not that I need to worry about him turning that charm on me. He’s press with a capital P and I’m PR for one of the largest companies in the city. And therefore off limits.

Our professional world is small, and like it or not, if anything were to happen between us, our reputations would be questioned. So as much as I’d like to avoid the man I’m paired with for this wedding, it's not to be.

I spin back toward the half-dozen other bridesmaids with a sigh. If Carson and I in second place means symmetry for the pictures, then Kelsie can count on me. As much as I’d have liked to relax and let down my guard this weekend, I’m prepared to remain professional. It’s what I do best.

Carson

Icough up the Benjamin, pulling a crisp one from my wallet and passing it to Sawyer’s brother, the best man, who just smoked me in a head-to-head round of croquet.

“Double or nothing?” he offers, pocketing the hundred-dollar bill with a broad smile.

I tuck the Montecristo No. 2 between my lips as I slide my wallet back into the pocket of my shorts, then draw a deep breath and blow it out. “I know when to cut my losses,”

I wouldn’t be on deck to succeed my if the board didn’t believe I could assess the chances of any deal in the blink of an eye. And this former frat boy, who probably minored in lawn games, has an edge I can’t ignore.

He raises his longneck in my direction. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“Okay, gentlemen, time for that run through we went over,” the leggy, blonde wedding planner exclaims, clapping her hands together as her heels click down the flagstone path in our direction. “The bridesmaids are sure to one-take this run-through, but I have no doubt you all can hold your own. Just remember what we talked about.”

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