Page 8 of Champagne Fizz

Olivia smiles at her fiancé with a special gleam in her eye;that’show the two of them met. Olivia handcuffed herself to Ned to get him to attend his own birthday party (which Connor had planned here at Flambé) because—news flash—Ned’s a big curmudgeon and he wasn’t going to attend unless dragged via handcuffs by a sexy woman.

“Hey, y’all,” Arie sing-songs as she skips into the dining room with Kendall in tow. “Look what the cat dragged in!”

The two of them look like complete opposites: the red-lipped devil on one side and the yellow innocent on the other. Talk about a sheep in a wolf’s den.

“Everyone,” Olivia says, standing up. “This is our wedding planner, Kendall Hart.”

Hart.

That’sher last name. I remember it now.Weddings with Hart.That’s what she named her business. No wonder she hates Flambé. Our restaurant is sexy and sinful. Meanwhile, she’s the poster child for all things adorable and cute. I bet this woman’s office looks like a sixteen-year-old’s Valentine’s day wet dream with pink bears, chocolate hearts, and a rose-petal walkway.

“Kendall,” Olivia continues with the introductions. “You’ve met our head chef, Arie.” Olivia motions to the red-headed vixen at Kendall’s side. “She’s my boss, but also completely phenomenal. You’re going to love her ideas for wedding reception design.”

Kendall frowns at Olivia like she just sold Kendall’s first-born child to Arie. Isn’t design supposed to be the wedding planner’s forte?

Kendall nods politely and gives Arie a tight-lipped smile. She looks exactly how I left her in the elevator: flushed and out of her element. I guess that Sue Blade pep talk didn’t cover how to deal with an Arie Noel tsunami.

“Behind the bar is our mixologist, Connor.” Olivia points, and on cue Connor lights all the green champagne glasses into a towering inferno. Kendall’s eyes flare, and I can tell she’s trying to keep her cool despite the fact that she looks like she’s walked into a circus.

“Impressive, huh?” Arie prods, and Kendall bites her lip, once again nodding politely and saying nothing.

My eyes flick to Kendall’s big pouty lips. Lips my cock would love to spend some—Okay, down boy!

“When I say impressive,” Arie clarifies, “I’m talking about Connor. The drinks and fireworks are nice, but the bartender is off limits. Got it?”

“Oh, I uh—” Kendall stumbles over her words, completely thrown off by Arie’s need to stake her claim like she’s a dog pissing on Connor’s feet and marking him as hers.

“Wait a minute,” Conner interjects, lifting the tray of flaming glasses and walking them toward the table. “We aren’t going to ask her to have a threesome?”

“Connor,” Arie says hotly, tossing a hand to her hip. “My pussy is the only pussy you get to lick.”

Well, that didn’t take long.

Kendall’s face turns neon.

“In fact,” Arie continues, “the only one at this table who’s single is Simon.”

I perk up at my name, noticing Arie’s dragon-painted fingernails are suddenly pointing at me.

Fuck.

“So, Kendall, if you need cock—” Arie announces.

Double fuck.

“You’re going to have to bark up that tree.” Arie’s finger flicks at me like I’m a broken stallion she’s happy to sell off for cheap.

Arie spares no one.

Kendall’s eyes hit me, and now it’s my turn to blush. Kendall’s eyes waver like she needs an ally. It’s obvious she’s out of her league with this kind of talk, but there’s something else that fleets through her eyes ...

“Thank you for clarifying the options,” Kendall says stiffly, her eyes cutting away from me before she turns to Arie, “but he’s not my type.”

Damn!

“Oooooh!” Connor jets in, feeling the weight of her words just as sharply. “Rejected!” Connor places the flaming drinks on the table and shakes his head at me. “Neither of us are getting any wedding planner pussy,” he commiserates.

Well, saying something like that is probably why.

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