Page 34 of The Wedding Wrecker

Chef Antoine was dabbing his eyes with a napkin. "Magnifique! The passion, the heat!" He sighed happily.

Dick had vanished, thankfully. But now I had a bigger problem.

I'd just had my tongue in James Carter's mouth.Again.And I liked it.Again.

In fact, of all the Michelin-star-level bites I’d tasted in the last hour, James was the one I found myself wanting seconds of. And that was a very, very bad thing.

"We should go," I managed, extracting myself from James' lap on shaky legs. "Thank you for everything, Chef."

"Of course! I will prepare the full proposal." He grinned. "Perhaps some aphrodisiacs, yes? Though it seems you two will not be needing any assistance in that department."

I grabbed my tablet and practically ran for the door. James caught up to me in the hallway.

"Emma—"

"No." I held up a hand. "That was just for show. Like everything else about this fake relationship."

"Was it?" He stepped closer, backing me against the wall. "Because it felt pretty real to me."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "James..."

"Tell me you didn't feel it too."

I opened my mouth to lie, to tell him I felt nothing?—

"There you are!"

We jumped apart as Lily rounded the corner. "Mom's been looking everywhere for you, Em. She says it's important."

Right. My mother.Who had hired James to investigate my sister's fiancé.

And I'd just been about to kiss him. Again.

What the hell was wrong with me?

12

EMMA

Ifound my mom waiting in the resort's lobby. The vast space hummed with morning activity as sunlight streamed through the frost-rimmed windows and fires crackled in the fireplaces. She was sitting at the bar with a drink nestled between her hands and a troubled expression on her face. Before I could reach her, I saw I was going to have to try to squeeze past Mr. Wellington and a group of about ten people all wearing fancy snow gear by the lobby's entrance.

The scene reminded me of a luxury sportswear catalog come to life—all perfect hair and coordinated outfits despite supposedly being ready for the slopes. At a glance, I didn't recognize many of the faces in the group except Dick and Mr. Wellington.

The wedding party was relatively large, because the Wellingtons were the type of family that had dozens of cousins and aunts and uncles. At the center, there was Mr. Wellington and his wife, Martha. Then Marcus and his brother, the aptly-named Dick. Marcus also had a sister named Charity, but I hadn't crossed paths with her yet. Outside that, I admittedly hadn't lookedtoo deeply into who was who, beyond confirming things like allergies and preferences that might be relevant for my work.

My eyes lingered on a trio of brothers within the group who were all different flavors of gorgeous. They looked like they'd been ordered from some "Rich Bachelor Monthly" catalogue—one of each type to suit any preference.

One had dark hair and big muscles, his jacket straining slightly across his shoulders. The other had sandy blonde hair with a longer face and bedroom eyes, and the last had reddish curls with blonde stubble on his chiseled face. The three of them were standing in a group and laughing about something, their perfect white teeth gleaming.

"Ah! Emma!" Mr. Wellington boomed across the lobby, clapping his hands like he'd just discovered buried treasure.

"Hey," I said, forcing a quick smile. "Planning to go out to ski?”

"We're all a bunch of snow bugs," he said as he tightened what looked like a cashmere scarf around his neck. "Can't keep us off those slopes. Just like I can't keep my Dick off pretty women!"

I choked as I sipped my coffee, which nearly made a surprise appearance through my nose. "Pardon?"

Dick appeared at Mr. Wellington's shoulder like he'd been summoned by the unfortunate comment.

---