Page 27 of 4 Weddings and a Feud

Mary knew Alex’s father had died while she was still in college, and she looked around for a photo of him, but there was none. Ditto for photos of Alex himself or any of the women he’d dated over the years. Gently, she set the photo back in its place. It must mean a lot to him.

“So, a chartered flight, then,” Rochelle said.

Mary returned to the conference table. “Okay. Rohaan, I’ll note that you’ll set that up with your contact. Next on the list is invitations. Did you like the samples I sent?”

“I liked the simple ones,” Rochelle said, “but Rohaan liked the more traditional ones, so we’ll go with those.”

“Are you sure?” Mary asked. “I can look for something you’re both happy with.”

“No, I’m good,” Rochelle said. “There are other things I care more about.”

“Perfect. I’ll order the invitations. Once you send me the guest list, I’ll get them hand-addressed and in the mail. Next on the list is the reception music. Yesterday, I sent you demos from three bands that are available that night. Did you get a chance to listen to them?”

As they worked through her list, Alex sat with his elbows on his knees, tapping on his phone. Good thing this wasn’t a video call.

While the couple debated salmon versus shellfish, Mary heard a soft pop. Alex was at it again, staring at the carpet, cracking his knuckles. Laying a hand over his, she mouthed the word, “Stop.”

But what did she want to stop? The tingles that raced up her arm and lodged in her heart to reignite the ones still left over from his touch on her back? Or the unexpected fire in his eyes when he looked up at her?

He covered her hand with his and murmured her name, his mouth kicking up into a devilish smile on the last syllable. Had he rolled his chair closer? Suddenly, he was in her space. The scent of vanilla enveloped her. His smile showed off his lips, pink and smooth with a slight luster to them. His top lip had a sharp bow in the center. If she leaned forward just a tiny bit, she could kiss it.

“Mary?”

She blinked and slipped her hand out from between Alex’s. “Sorry, Rochelle. Could you repeat that?”

“I asked if you thought potatoes or pasta would go better with the salmon.”

Mary stared at the speakerphone, a much safer place to look than the light brown rings around Alex’s pupils. “Potatoes, definitely. With five hundred people, keeping them warm during the service will be much easier. And there are so many variations. Maybe fingerlings with garlic and dill?”

After they’d scheduled a tasting for the following weekend when the couple would be back in Vegas, Mary summarized the decisions they’d made and outlined the next steps.

As Alex disconnected the call, she stood. “I guess I’ll see you?—”

“Just a minute,” he said. “I have an idea.”

“An idea?” Her heart thudded in her chest. Must be the caffeine. She rubbed her blouse over her breastbone. “Let’s hear it.”

“I think this wedding could use a little more pizazz.”

“Pizazz.” She crossed her arms. “I think with a month to plan it and a semi-secret baby on the way, we’ve got enough drama.”

His lips quirked up on one side. “Someone I know always says, ‘Why get married in Vegas if you’re not all-in on the razzle-dazzle?’”

She squared her stance. “Because this is where Rochelle’s family lives. She’s looking for a simple, elegant wedding. Not one of your three-ring circuses with gold-paintedDavids in G-strings serving signature cocktails. Remember, I’m the wedding planner. You’re just the venue. You promised me no interference.”

“It was only an idea.” He tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

From the scratch in her throat, she could tell she’d gone shrill in shooting down his razzle-dazzle. “Sorry, yes. I’m a little run-down. And I should go.” She lifted the heavy binder and shoved it into her bag. “I’m driving tonight.”

“Mary.”

She couldn’t help but meet his gaze, dark and dangerous. His smile was gone, replaced by a tight press of his lips.

Stop looking at his lips!

“Yes?” Looking into his eyes was also a mistake. They tugged her in like a whirlpool.

“You’re not driving tonight.”

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