Page 20 of The Wedding Twist

“I’m sure they’re distracted by biscotti. Those were amazing.”

Celeste smiled. “I’ll let my mom know.” She was tempted to linger in the puzzle room with Jack and continue comparing notes on their favorite books. She could picture it: Them sitting in front of the fire together reading. Without thinking, she’d move her feet into his lap, and he’d hold them, and she’d love it. Eventually she’d notice that he wasn’t reading anymore and that he was looking at her in a way that told hertheyweren’t reading anymore. And she’d dog-ear her book—which was a cardinal sin, in her opinion—but she wouldn’t care, and soon they’d be wishing for the fire to die down with the heat generated by their two bodies, naked in front of the hearth.

Her cheeks burned when she realized Jack had just said something, but she was caught in the trance of a sexy reading dream. “I’m sorry?” she said, hoping her cheeks weren’t as cherry red as they felt.

“I asked which one is your favorite.”

“Contemporary? I’m a huge Ann Cleeves fan. And of the classics…I’ve never met an Ian Fleming I didn’t like.”

“Bond fan, eh?”

“I like Bond.” She had a million things on her to-do list, but suddenly they seemed as pressing as organizing the paperclips in the office. She liked talking to Jack. A lot. She also liked the way his lips smile curved a little more on the right and how he looked at her like she was the most interesting person in the world. “Do you know he also wroteChitty Chitty Bang Bang?”

“I did not,” Jack said. He looked at his watch. “But speaking of flying cars, I might need one of my own if I’m going to make it to the tackle shop in time to grab a few things I need for tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Celeste said.

They moved to the foyer. “Thanks again for helping us out tomorrow,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. I’ll be by with the van at eight thirty sharp.”

“See you then,” Celeste said, already counting down the hours. “Don’t forget to send me the invoice.”

“Will do. And by the way,” Jack said, turning around on his way back to his truck, “Tiffany Case. That’s your Bond character.”

Celeste laughed. “What? You’re comparing me to a diamond smuggler?”

“You’ve got a great sense of humor,” he said, his eyes flickering with amusement and something that, if Celeste wasn’t mistaken, looked a lot like desire. “And…you seem like you’re not opposed to diamonds.”

She twisted the ring on her right middle finger. It was a replica of Princess Diana’s ring that her parents had given her for her thirtieth birthday, a large blue sapphire surrounded by a ring of diamonds. “You’re not wrong about that,” Celeste said. Was he judging her? By the looks of it, the only diamonds that interested Jack were the black-diamond runs on the nearby mountains. She watched as he descended the front steps of the lodge. “Bye, Jack.”

Jack turned back and gave her a quick wave, then got into his truck. As he pulled out, he honked twice.

Celeste went back into the lodge, closed the door, and leaned against it. When had she ever been this swoony? She shook her head. Jack was now pretty much a colleague, who was doing this to help his business, not to help her.

She watched as his truck disappeared around the forested bend, then sighed.

It was official—she was hot for teacher.

Chapter Seven

The thick morningmist was starting to burn off when Jack pulled back into the lodge’s parking lot a few minutes before the agreed-upon time. The forecast for the day was cool but clear, and he’d gotten some intel from Hank at the tackle shop about a few spots where some trout were holding, so chances were good they’d get some catches.

He got out of his truck just as Celeste exited the front door holding her clipboard in one hand and waving at him with the other. “Hey!” she called. “They’re all just finishing up breakfast. Everyone’s excited. You want a coffee?”

Her warm welcome cut right through the cold air and early-morning fog. “Nah, I’m good—thanks,” Jack said. “Picked one up at Ronnie’s.”

“I’ll pack a pasty for you, then. You haven’t lived until you’ve had a Jeannie McCarthy jalapeño-sundried tomato scone.”

“Sounds great.” He approached the porch and took a moment to appreciate the slim fit of her gray knit dress and the way her glossy hair spilled over her shoulders. It wasn’t much past the crack of dawn, and the way she looked like she was stepping out of a fashion magazine had him perking up more than any coffee ever could. “So, what time do I need to have these guys back here?” he asked. “It’s going to be a beauty of a day.”

Celeste consulted her notes. “Dinner is at seven, so if you can have them back by five thirty, six, that should give everyone enough time to shower and have a few minutes to regroup.” She looked up. “Oh, and Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“The bride has issued strict instructions that under no circumstances should these men be allowed to drink today.”

“You mean alcohol?”

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