Page 147 of Champagne Fizz

KENDALL

“Let’s do one more wide shot of the whole room,” I instruct the photographer. “And then a few final detail images for the calligrapher: menu, place cards, etcetera.”

“On it,” the photographer says, swinging out his camera that’s attached to a leather suspender like he’s a gun slinger. “Give me ten, and then we can open the doors for guests.”

“Perfect!” I beam, looking around the room one more time and taking it all in. With Flambé’s staff’s help, this place really has transformed into a magical paradise. Veronica West would scoff at the fact that I haven’t done something out-of-this-world like hang a swing from the ceiling, or build a dance floor out of peacock feathers. Instead, it’s the perfect blend of letting the location shine through while still dressing it up with flowers, candlelight, and dripping wax.

It feels real.

My stomach flutters at the hint of a blue suit in my periphery, and I know Simon’s been watching me and the photographer for several minutes, waiting patiently.

“We’re in the home stretch,” I say to Simon, as he walks up to me in the center of the space; a thousand black candles flicker around us. “Good thing your staff have torches,” I joke, motioning to the flames, “so we can keep the décor alight.”

“It wouldn’t be Flambé if someone wasn’t lighting something on fire,” Simon agrees.

Our eyes catch, and I remember whenwewere lit on fire. It was right here, in this very spot. Only a few weeks ago, I was creating my display tables and Simon kissed me.

My knees feel weak with the memory of it, heat inching up my neck.

One kiss set into motion a chain of events that made me feel alive and brave and terrified and full of bliss. Simon woke me up with a kiss. Ha! How Disney princess of me.

I don’t know if Simon’s remembering that first kiss too, where I shuddered in his arms, and he suddenly understood how little it would take for him to uproot all my senses, but he’s blushing.

Dang! Simon blushing is my kryptonite: horn rimmed glasses, blue eyes, pink cheeks, and that shy smile that saysI’ll never forget that first time I held you in my arms.

“I have something for you,” Simon says, interrupting my heat-induced memories. “It’s in my office. Do you have a minute?”

He motions for me to follow him, and I do one more scan of the space. There are literally hundreds of candles flickering as the gold of sunset streams through the room. It’s magic-hour kissed by a thousand flames.

“Is this okay?” I ask tentatively. “Leaving? Isn’t this a fire hazard if someone’s not here to chaperone?”

“In any other restaurant, maybe,” Simon laughs. “We’ve got a state-of-the-art sprinkler system that Ned and Connor made sure we put in to cover any fire liability. Trust me, this place has had flaming champagne towers and waiters drop burning trays onto customers. All of your candles are actually in candle holders, which means they’re much safer than half the desserts Arie sends out of the kitchen. But I can get one of the staff to look after it, if that would make you feel better.”

I nod, and Simon finds one of the waitstaff in their black-on-black suits to babysit the candles. A state-of-the-art sprinkler system sounds nice, but I’d still like there tobea reception.

My palms start to sweat once we’re back in Simon’s office, and he clicks the door shut behind us. I know it’s chemicals and pheromones and the whole situation between us, but my body just reacts to Simon now. It remembers what happens when the two of us are alone.

Finally!Lady Lada exclaims.A little one-on-one time with the sexy accountant.

I take a deep breath and try to cool my jets. Lady Lada can react all she wants, but I’m still pissed at Simon for telling Arie about us—and that I’m a virgin. Sure, Simon’s been an absolute gentleman since. He’s bailed me out of several unpleasant wedding-related situations. And maybe that’s enough for Lady Lada’s forgiveness, but not mine.

“Arie has everything ready to go,” Simon says, walking to a small closet in the back of his office. “She just asks that you stay out of the kitchen.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need to micromanage anything,” I agree. “As long as the food is delicious and on time, she can do her job without a peep from me.”

Simon nods like that’s a relief. “Good, because I think it’s time you enjoyed this wedding a little bit.”

I frown, not entirely sure what that means. Then Simon pulls something out of his closet and holds it up high.

Dangling from a hanger is a strappy, silk dress. A brightyellowdress.

“What is that?” I ask, stunned.

It’s gorgeous. That’s what it is!Lady Lada says, hijacking my brain.And sexy. Ooooh, Simon wants you in a sexy dress!

That dress would show off way too much skin, I say to the side of my brain that’s clearly demented.

Not that Simon hasn’t seen you in less—much less.

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