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The Best Man and The Wedding Planner
Teresa Carpenter


The best man to be her Mr. Right?Royal wedding planner Lindsay Reeves's first encounter with best man Zach Sullivan is when he sits on the wedding dress! But when preparations reach crisis point, Lindsay is forced to call on the infuriating playboy for his help.But Zach's good looks, charm and cynicism about marriage become more of a distraction! In the business of happy-ever-afters, jaded Zach might just be Lindsay's toughest client yet!







The Vineyards of Calanetti

Saying “I do” under the Tuscan sun …

Deep in the Tuscan countryside nestles the picturesque village of Monte Calanetti. Famed for its world-renowned vineyards, the village is also home to the crumbling but beautiful Palazzo di Comparino. It’s been empty for months, but rumours of a new owner are spreading like wildfire … and that’s before the village is chosen as the setting for the royal wedding of the year!

It’s going to be a roller coaster of a year, but will wedding bells ring out in Monte Calanetti for anyone else?

Find out in this fabulously heart-warming, uplifting and thrillingly romantic new eight-book continuity from Mills & Boon Romance!

A Bride for the Italian Boss by Susan Meier Return of the Italian Tycoon by Jennifer Faye Reunited by a Baby Secret by Michelle Douglas Soldier, Hero … Husband? by Cara Colter

His Lost-and-Found Bride by Scarlet Wilson

The Best Man & The Wedding Planner by Teresa Carpenter

His Princess of Convenience by Rebecca Winters Available January 2016

Saved by the CEO by Barbara Wallace


The Best Man & The Wedding Planner

Teresa Carpenter




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


TERESA CARPENTER believes that with love and family anything is possible. She writes in a Southern California coastal city surrounded by her large family. Teresa loves writing about babies and grandmas. Her books have rated as Top Picks by RT Book Reviews, and have been nominated Best Romance of the Year on some review sites. If she’s not at a family event, she’s reading, or writing her next grand romance.


This book is dedicated to my editor Carly Byrne for her patience, understanding, speed and good cheer. I never see her sweat. Even when I do. Thank you for everything.


Contents

Cover (#u825d97af-f341-5a42-86fd-2bdedec81167)

Introduction (#ueb5bc259-28bd-5b3f-9804-53a755cb0ec4)

Title Page (#u1e53130c-b2de-5e04-8fbb-939c2d887ffc)

About the Author (#ue9e7930c-dcea-5478-b36a-edda0c50f2de)

Dedication (#ua164d624-1996-5717-bc2e-945bac745a83)

CHAPTER ONE (#ud8590d10-5b6e-5756-8b51-38bf150639c8)

CHAPTER TWO (#udcc20737-881b-5187-bb7c-c026e894f59c)

CHAPTER THREE (#ue368971f-96e9-53b1-af55-95acac51e318)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u26a83059-b1bc-5df2-8044-a0d9705b97ad)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_6fd07c43-6166-59a0-9723-09423daeeb03)

“NOW BOARDING, FIRST-CLASS passengers for Flight 510 to Florence.”

Lindsay Reeves’s ears perked up. She glanced at her watch; time had gotten away from her. She closed her tablet folio, tucked it into her satchel and then reached for the precious cargo she was personally escorting across the ocean. She hooked the garment bag holding the couture wedding dress for the future Queen of Halencia over her shoulder and began to move as the attendant made a second announcement. “First-class passengers now boarding.”

“Welcome aboard.” The attendant looked from the second ticket to Lindsay. “I’m sorry, both passengers will need to be present to board.”

“We’re both here. I bought a seat for this.” She held up the garment bag.

The woman smiled but her eyes questioned Lindsay’s sanity. “You bought a first-class ticket for your luggage?”

“Yes.” She kept it at that, not wanting to draw any further attention. With the wedding only a month away, the world was alive with wedding dress fever.

“We have a storage closet in first class that can hold it if you want to refund the ticket before takeoff,” the attendant offered.

“No, thank you.” Lindsay pressed the second ticket into the woman’s hand. “I’m not letting this bag out of my sight.”

On the plane she passed a nice-looking older couple already seated in the first row and moved on to the last row where she spied her seats. She draped the garment bag over the aisle seat and frowned when it immediately slumped into a scrunched heap on the seat.

That wouldn’t do. She pulled it back into place and tried to anchor it but when she let go, it drooped again. The weight of the dress, easily thirty pounds, made it too heavy to lie nicely. She needed something to hold it in place. After using her satchel to counter the weight temporarily, she slid past a young couple and their two children to speak to the flight attendant.

“We have a closet we can hang the dress in,” the male attendant stated upon hearing her request.

“I’ve been paid not to let it out of my sight,” she responded. True enough. Her reputation as a wedding planner to the rich and famous depended on her getting this dress to the wedding in pristine condition without anyone seeing it but her, the bride and her attendants.

“Hmm,” the man—his name tag read Dan—tapped his lips while he thought.

“Welcome aboard, sir.” Behind Lindsay another attendant, a blonde woman, greeted a fellow passenger.

Out of the corner of her eye Lindsay got the impression of a very tall, very broad, dark-haired man. She stepped into the galley to give them more room.

“You’re the last of our first-class passengers,” the attendant advised the man. “Once you’re seated, please let me know if you need anything.”

“Check,” the man said in a deep, bass voice and moved down the aisle.

Goodness. Just the one word sent a tingle down Lindsay’s spine. She sure hoped he intended to sleep during the long, red-eye flight. She wanted to get some work done and his voice might prove quite distracting.

“I’ve got it.” Dan waved a triumphant hand. “We’ll just put the seat in sleep mode and lay the bag across it.” He poured a glass of champagne and then another. “Will that work?”

“Yes, that will be perfect. Thank you.”

“Seats aren’t allowed to be reclined during takeoff. Once we reach cruising altitude I’ll be along to put the seat down. And I’ll look for something to secure it in case the flight gets bumpy.”

“Great. You’ve been very helpful.”

Lindsay headed back to her seat. Halfway through first class she caught sight of the newcomer and her breath caught in the back of her throat. He was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Long, lean features with high cheekbones, dark, slanted eyebrows and long, black eyelashes. Dark stubble decorated his square jaw.

Suddenly her eyes popped wide and she let out a shriek. “Get up!” she demanded. “Get up right now!”

He was sitting on the dress!

A frown furrowed his brow. He slowly opened lambent brown eyes so stunning she almost forgot why she was yelling. Almost.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked in a deep, rasping voice.

“Yes.” She confronted the man, hands on hips. “You’re in my seat. Sitting on my dress. Get up!”

“What’s the problem here?” The other attendant appeared next to her.

“He’s in my seat.” She pointed an accusing finger. “Sitting on my garment bag. Make him move.”

Behind her a young child began to cry. Lindsay cringed but held her ground.

The beading on this dress was intricate, all hand-sewn. If it had to be repaired it would cost a fortune. And she’d already paid a pretty penny to make sure nothing happened to it. How could someone sit on a garment bag without noticing it?

“Let’s all calm down.” The blonde attendant squeezed by Lindsay. “Sir, can I ask you to stand, please?”

The man slowly rose. He had to duck to the side to avoid hitting the overhead compartment. He must be six-four, maybe six-five; a long way to glare up from five feet four. She managed.

“I’m not sitting on anything.” He gestured across the aisle. “I moved it there because it was in my seat.”

Lindsay looked to her left. The garment bag rested in a heap on the seat with her heavy satchel dumped on top. She jumped on it, removing her bag and smoothing the fabric. It was all mushed as though it had been sat on.

“May I see your tickets, please?” Dan requested.

Lindsay pulled hers from the front pocket of her satchel and waited to be vindicated.

“Actually, you’re both in wrong seats. My fault, I’m afraid. I’m used to a different plane. I do apologize. Ms. Reeves, you are on the left and, Mr. Sullivan, you need to move forward a row.”

Lovely. She couldn’t even blame the beast. Except she did.

At least he’d be in the row ahead of her so she wouldn’t have to have him next to her the entire flight.

His brown gaze went to the toddlers in the row in front of the one the attendant indicated. “I’d prefer the back row.” He pasted on a charming smile. “Is it possible to trade seats?”

No. No. No.

“Of course.” The blonde gushed, swayed, no doubt, by his dimples. “There was a cancellation so no one else is boarding in first class. Is there anything I can get you before we continue boarding?”

“A pillow would be nice.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Sullivan.” She turned to Lindsay. “Anything for you, ma’am?”

Ma’am? Seriously? “I’d like a pillow. And a blanket, please.”

“We’ll do a full turndown service after the flight gets started.” She gave Sullivan a smile and disappeared behind the curtain to the coach area.

Lindsay stared after her. Did that mean she didn’t get a pillow or a blanket? This was her first time flying first-class. So far she had mixed feelings. She liked the extra room and the thought of stretching out for the long flight. But Blondie wasn’t earning any points.

Lindsay draped the garment bag over the window seat as best she could until the seat could be reclined. Unfortunately that put her in the aisle seat directly across from Mr. Tall, Dark and Inconsiderate.

Nothing for it. She’d just have to ignore him and focus on her work. It would take the entire flight to configure the seating arrangement for the reception. She had the list of guests from the bride and the list of guests from the groom. And a three-page list of political notes from the palace of who couldn’t be seated next to whom and who should be seated closer to the royal couple. What had started as a private country wedding had grown to include more than a hundred guests as political factors came into play.

It was a wedding planner’s nightmare. But she took it as an opportunity to excel.

Before she knew it she was being pushed back in her chair as the plane lifted into the air. Soon after, Dan appeared to fold down the window seat. He carefully laid the heavy garment bag in place and secured it with the seat belt and a bungee cord. She thanked him as she resumed her seat.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Sullivan had his pillow—a nice, big, fluffy one. Ignore him. Easier thought than done. He smelled great; a spicy musk with a touch of soap.

Eyes back on her tablet, she shuffled some names into table seats and then started to run them against her lists to see if they were all compatible. Of course, they weren’t. Two people needed to be moved forward and two people couldn’t be seated together. That left four people at the table. She moved people to new tables and highlighted them as a reminder to check out the politics on them. And repeated the process.

A soft snore came from across the way—much less annoying than the shrill cry of one of the toddlers demanding a bandage for his boo-boo. Blondie rushed to the rescue and the boy settled down. Except for loud outbursts like that, the two boys were actually well behaved. There’d been no need for Sullivan to move seats.

“Would you care for a meal, Ms. Reeves?” Dan appeared beside her.

She glanced at the time on her tablet. Eight o’clock. They’d been in the air an hour. “Yes, please.”

“You have a choice of chicken Cordon bleu or beef Stroganoff.”

“I’ll have the beef. With a cola.”

He nodded and turned to the other side of the aisle. Before he could ask, Sullivan said he’d have the beef and water.

Her gaze collided with his. Brown eyes with specks of gold surveyed her, interest and appreciation sparkled in the whiskey-brown depths, warm and potent.

Heat flooded her, followed by a shiver.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked, his voice even deeper and raspier from sleep. Way too sexy for her peace of mind.

“None of your business.” She turned back to her table plan.

“Must be pretty important for you to get so upset. Let me guess, a special dress for a special occasion?” He didn’t give up.

“Yes. If you must know. And it’s my job to protect it.”

“Protect it? Interesting. So it’s not your dress.”

She rolled her eyes and sent him a droll stare. “I liked you better when you were snoring.”

He grinned, making his dimples pop. “I deserve that. Listen, I’m sorry for my attitude earlier and for sitting on the dress. I had wine with dinner and wine always gives me a headache.”

Lindsay glared at Sullivan. “So you did sit on the dress.” She knew it. That had definitely been a butt print on the bag.

He blinked, all innocence. “I meant I’m sorry for dumping it over there.”

“Uh-huh.”

His grin never wavered.

“Why did you have wine with dinner if it gives you a headache?”

The smile faded. “Because dinner with my folks always goes better with a little wine. And I’m going to have a headache at the end either way.”

“Okay, I get that.” Lindsay adored her flighty, dependent mother but, yeah, dinners were easier with a little wine. Sometimes, like between husbands, a lot of wine was required.

A corner of his rather nice mouth kicked up. “You surprise me, Ms. Reeves. I’d have thought you’d be appalled.”

“Parents aren’t always easy.” She closed her tablet to get ready for her meal. “It doesn’t mean we don’t love them.”

“Amen. Respect is another matter.”

That brought her attention around. He wore a grim expression and turmoil churned in his distracted gaze. The situation with his parents must be complicated. It was a sad day when you lost respect for the person you loved most in the world. She understood his pain only too well.

Thankfully, Dan arrived with a small cart, disrupting old memories. He activated a tray on the side of her seat and placed a covered plate in front of her along with a glass of soda. Real china, real crystal, real silverware. Nice. And then he lifted the cover and the luscious scent of braised meat and rich sauce reached her.

“Mmm.” She hummed her approval. “This looks fantastic.”

“I can promise you it is,” Dan assured her. “Chef LaSalle is the pride of the skies.”

She took her first bite as he served Sullivan and moaned again. She couldn’t help it, the flavors burst in her mouth, seducing her taste buds.

“Careful, Ms. Reeves,” Sullivan cautioned. “You sound like you’re having a good time over there.”

“Eat. You’ll understand.” She took a sip of her drink, watching him take a bite. “Or maybe not. After all, you’ve already eaten.”

“I wasn’t hungry earlier. Damn, this is good.” He pointed to the video screen. “Shall we watch a movie with our meal?”

She was tempted. Surprising. After the disaster of last year, work had been her major consolation. She rarely took the time to relax with a movie. She was too busy handling events for the stars of those movies. A girl had to work hard to make the stars happy in Hollywood. And she had to work harder than the rest after allowing an old flame to distract her to the point of putting her career at risk. But she’d learned her lesson.

Luckily she’d already signed the contract for this gig. And she planned to make the royal wedding of the Crown Prince of Halencia, Antonio de l’Accardi, to the commoner, Christina Rose, the wedding of the century.

Thirty days from now no one would be able to question her dedication—which meant returning to the puzzle of the table seating.

“You go on,” she told Sullivan. “I have to get back to my work.”

“What are you doing over there? Those earlier moans weren’t as pleasant as your dinner noises.”

“It’s a creative new form of torture called a seating arrangement.”

“Ah. It sounds excruciating.”

“Oh, believe me. It’s for a political dinner and there are all these levels of protocols of who can sit with whom. And then there’s the added element of personal likes and dislikes. It’s two steps back for every one step forward. And it’s a lot of manual double-checking...talk about a headache.”

“Politics usually are.” The grimness in his tone told her there was something more there. Before she had time to wonder about it, he went on. “The information isn’t on spreadsheets?”

“It is, but there are more than a hundred names here. I have to seat a table and then check each name to see if they’re compatible.”

“You know you can set up a program that can look at the information and tell you whether the table mates are compatible at the time you put the name in.”

She blinked at him. “That would be wonderful. How do I do that exactly?”

He laughed, a deep, friendly sound, then rattled off a string of commands that had her eyes glazing over. “The setup will take a few minutes but will likely save you hours overall.”

“Yeah, but you lost me at the word ‘algorithm.’” She wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. “You really had my hopes up for a minute there.”

“Sorry, tech talk. I own a company that provides software for cyber security. A program like this really isn’t that difficult. Let me see your computer after dinner and I’ll do it for you. It’ll take me less than an hour.”

This man was tempting her left and right. She weighed the hours she’d save against the confidentiality agreement she’d signed and sadly shook her head.

“Thank you for offering but I can’t. This is a special event. I’m not allowed to share information with anyone except my staff, designated officials and pre-approved vendors.”

“This is for the royal wedding of Prince Antonio of Halencia, right?”

Her eyes popped wide. How could he know that?

“Come on, it’s not hard to guess. The wedding dress, the seating chart. We’re on a flight to Florence. And I know they have an American event planner. Hang on, I’ll take care of this.”

He pulled out his cell phone and hit a couple of buttons.

“What?” she challenged. “You’re calling the palace in Halencia? Uh, huh. I don’t think so. You can hang up now.”

“Hey, Tony.” He raised a dark eyebrow as he spoke into the phone.

Tony? As in Antonio? Yeah, right.

“I got your text. Don’t worry about it. I’m here for a month. I’ll see you next week.” He listened for a moment. “Yes, I had dinner with them. They were thrilled with the invitation. Hey, listen, the wedding planner is on my flight and she needs some programming to help her with the seating chart. She’s bound by the confidentiality agreement from letting me help her. Can you give her authorization? Great, I’m going to put her on.”

He held the phone out to Lindsay. “It’s Prince Antonio.”


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_b9cb149d-93eb-57a4-8c83-5fcb79367284)

LINDSAY ROLLED HER eyes at the man across the way, wondering how far he meant to take this joke and what he hoped to achieve.

“Hello?”

“Buona sera, Ms. Reeves. I hope you are having a nice flight.”

“Uh, yes, I am.” The voice was male, pleasant and slightly accented. And could be anyone. Except how had he known her name? Sullivan hadn’t mentioned it.

“Christina is thrilled to have your services for the wedding. You have my full support to make this il matrimonio dei suoi sogni—the wedding of her dreams.”

“I’ll do my best.” Could this actually be the prince?

“Duty demands my presence at the palace but I look forward to meeting you at the rehearsal. Zach is my best man. He will be my advocate in Monte Calanetti for the next month. He is available to assist you in any way necessary.”

She turned to look at the man across the aisle and quirked a brow at his evil smirk. “Zach... Sullivan?”

“Yes. We went to college together. He’s like a brother to me. If he can assist with the meal plan—”

“The seating chart.” She squeezed her eyes closed. OMG, I just interrupted the royal prince.

“Of course. The seating chart. If Zach can help, you must allow him to be of service. He is quite handy with a computer.”

“Yes. I will. Thank you.”

“It is I who thanks you. You do us an honor by coming to Halencia. If I can be of further assistance, you have access to me through Zach. Buona notte, Ms. Reeves.”

“Good night.” Instead of giving the phone back to Sullivan she checked the call history and saw she’d spoken to Tony de l’Accardi. She slowly turned her head to meet chocolate-brown eyes. “You know the Prince of Halencia.”

“I wouldn’t take on the best man gig for anyone else.”

The flight attendant appeared with the cart to collect his meal and sweetly inquire if he’d like dessert.

Lindsay rolled her eyes, barely completing the action before the blonde turned to her.

“Are you done, ma’am?”

Ma’am again? Lindsay’s eyes narrowed in a bland stare.

Her displeasure must have registered because the woman rushed on. “For dessert we have crème brûlée, strawberry cheesecake or a chocolate mousse.”

Lindsay handed off her empty plate and, looking the woman straight in the eye, declared, “I’ll have one of each.”

“Of course, ma... Ms. Reeves.” She hurriedly stashed the plate and rolled the cart away.

Lindsay slowly turned her head until Sullivan’s intent regard came into view. Okay, first things first. “I’m only twenty-nine. Way too young to be ma’am.”

He cocked his head.

She handed him his phone. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the best man?”

He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Would you have believed me?”

She contemplated him. “Probably. I have a file on you.”

His slanted eyebrow seemed to dip even further. “Then I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me. You probably have profiles on the entire wedding party in that tablet of yours.”

She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug of acknowledgment. “I’ve learned it’s wise to know who I’ll be working with. I didn’t recognize you because it’s out of context. Plus, you don’t have an eight-o’clock shadow in your company photo in which you’re wearing glasses.”

“Huh.” He ran the backs of his fingers over his jaw. “I’ll have to get that picture updated. I had Lasik eye surgery over a year ago. Regardless, I didn’t know you were involved in the wedding until you started talking about the meal arrangements.”

“Seating arrangements,” she corrected automatically.

“Right.”

The flight attendant arrived with dessert. She handed Zach a crystal dish of chocolate mousse and set a small tray with all three desserts artfully displayed in front of Lindsay.

“Enjoy,” she said and retreated down the aisle.

“Mmm.” Lindsay picked up a spoon and broke into the hard shell of crystalized sugar topping the crème brûlée. “Mmm.” This time it was a moan. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Careful, Ms. Reeves, you’re going to get me worked up if you continue.” Zach gestured at her loaded tray with his spoon. “I see you like your sweets.”

“It’s a long night.” She defended her stash.

“I guess you don’t plan on sleeping.”

“I have a lot of work.” She gave her usual excuse then, for some unknown reason, confessed, “I don’t sleep well on planes.”

“It may help if you relaxed and watched the movie instead of working.”

No doubt he was right. But work soothed her, usually. Over the past year she’d found it increasingly more difficult to believe in the magic of her process. She blamed her breakup with Kevin last year. But she hoped to change that soon. If a royal wedding couldn’t bring back the magic in what she did, she needed to rethink her career path.

“Thank you for that insightful bit of advice. What don’t you like about being best man? The role or the exposure?”

“Either. Both. Seems like I’ve been dodging the limelight since I was two.”

“Well, you did grow up in a political family.” That brought his earlier comment and reaction into context. Her research revealed he was related to the political powerhouse Sullivans from Connecticut. “Never had any aspiration in that direction?”

The curse he uttered made her glance worriedly toward the toddlers. Luckily the lack of sound or movement in that direction indicated they were probably asleep.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“I wished my father understood me so well.”

She empathized with his pain. She felt the same way about her mother. Perhaps empathy was why she found him so easy to talk to. “I’ve found parents often see what they want to see. That addresses the exposure...what do you have against the role of best man?”

“I hate weddings. The fancier the event, the more I detest them. There’s something about the pomp and circumstance that just screams fake to me.” He licked his spoon and set the crystal dish aside. “No offense.”

No offense? He’d just slammed everything she stood for. Why should she be offended?

And he wasn’t done. “It’s like the couple needs to distract the crowd from the fact they’re marrying for something other than love.”

“You don’t believe in love?” It was one thing for her to question her belief in what she was doing and another for someone else to take shots at it.

“I believe in lust and companionship. Love is a myth best left to romance novels.”

“Wow. That’s harsh.” And came way too close to how she felt these days.

The way his features hardened when he voiced his feelings told her strong emotion backed his comment. Kind of at odds with his family dynamic. The Sullivans were touted as one of the All-American families going back for generations. Long marriages and one or two kids who were all upstanding citizens. They ranked right up there with the Kennedys and Rockefellers.

The attendants came through the cabin collecting trash and dirty dishes. They offered turndown service, which Lindsay turned down. She still had work to do.

“Just let us know when you’re ready.”

Across the way Zach also delayed his bed service and got the same response. Once the attendants moved on, he leaned her way.

“Now you know you can trust me, are you ready for me to work on your spreadsheet? I’d like to do it before I start my movie.”

“Oh. Sure.” Could she trust him? Lindsay wondered as she pulled out her tablet. Just because she knew who he was didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Too charming for her peace of mind. And a total flirt. “Do you want to do it on mine or should I send it to you?”

“Little Pixie, I’d like to do yours.” His gaze ran over her, growing hotter as it rolled up her body. Her blood was steaming by the time his gaze met hers. “But since I have to work, you should send it to me.”

“It’ll do you no good to flirt with me.” She tapped in her password and opened her spreadsheet. “What’s your email?” She keyed in the address and sent it. “This wedding is too important to my career for me to risk getting involved with the best man.”

“Oh, come on. The best man is harmless.” Zach had his laptop open. “Got it. He’s shackled for the whole event.”

“The best man is a beast. His mind is all wrapped up in the bachelor party and strippers. He feels it’s his duty to show the groom what he’ll be giving up. And more than half the time he’s on the prowl for some action just to remind himself he’s still free, whether he is or not.”

Zach flinched. “Wow. That’s harsh.”

Oh, clever man. “With good cause. I have a strict ‘no fraternizing with the wedding party—including guests’—policy for my company and the vendors I work with. But, yeah, I’ve had to bolster a few bridesmaids who took it too far and expected too much and went home alone. Or refer them back to the bride or groom for contact info that wasn’t shared.”

“That’s a lot of blame heaped on the best man.”

“Of course, it’s not just the best man, but in my experience he can be a bad, bad boy.”

“It’s been a long time since I was bad.”

“Define long.”

He laughed.

“Seriously, I just want you to rewind the conversation a few sentences and then say that again with a straight face.”

His gaze shifted from his laptop to make another slow stroll over her. Jacking up her pulse yet again.

He needed to stop doing that!

Unremorseful, he cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not saying I don’t go after what I want. But I’m always up front about my intentions. No illusions, no damages.”

Sounded like a bad boy to her.

“Well, you have fun, now. I’m here to work.”

He shook his head as he went back to keying commands into his computer. “All work and no play makes Ms. Reeves a dull girl.”

“I’m not being paid to have fun.” And that was the problem right there—the one she’d been struggling with for nearly a year.

Her work wasn’t fun anymore.

And the cause wasn’t just the disillusionment she suffered in her love life. Though that ranked high on the motive list. She’d started feeling this way before Kevin had come back into her life. Instead of being excited by the creative endeavor, she’d gotten bogged down in the details.

Maybe it was Hollywood. Believing in the magic of happily-ever-after got a little harder to do with each repeat customer. Not to mention the three-peats. And the fact her mother was her best customer. Hopefully, husband number six would be the charm for her.

Seriously, Lindsay crossed her fingers in the folds of her skirt. She truly wished this marriage lasted. She liked Matt and he seemed to get her mom, who had the attention span and sense of responsibility of a fourteen-year-old. There was nothing mentally wrong with Darlene Reeves. She could do for herself. She just didn’t want to. Darlene’s dad had treated her like a princess, giving her most everything she wanted and taking care of all the little details in life. He’d died when she was seventeen and she’d been chasing his replacement all her life.

She’d had Lindsay when she was eighteen and then she learned to get the wedding ring on her finger before they lost interest. In between love interests, Lindsay was expected to pick up the slack.

She loved her mother dearly. But she loved her a little easier when she was in a committed relationship.

“Did you fall asleep on me over there?”

His question called her attention to his profile. Such strong features—square jaw dusted with stubble-defined cheekbones, straight nose. He really was beautiful in a totally masculine way. Too much temptation. Good thing her policy put him off limits.

“No. Just going over what I need to do.”

“Perfect timing then.” He swirled his finger and hit a single key. “Because I just sent your file back to you.”

“So soon?” She reached for her tablet, excited to try the new program. The file opened onto a picture of circles in the form of a rectangle. Each circle was numbered. She’d refine the shape once she viewed the venue. She ran her finger across the page and as it moved over a circle names popped up showing who was seated at the table.

“Cool. How do I see everybody?”

“You hit this icon here.” He hung over his chair, reaching across the aisle to show her. He tried showing her the other features, but his actions were awkward. Being left-handed, he had to use his right hand to aid her because of the distance between the seats.

“This is ridiculous.” Unsnapping her seat belt, she stood. “Do you mind if I come over there for a few minutes while we go over this?”

“Sure.” He stood, as well, and stepped aside.

Standing next to him she came face to loosened tie with him. She bent her head back to see him and then bent it back again to meet his gaze. “My goodness. How tall are you?”

“Six-four.”

“And the prince?”

“Six-one.” Long fingers tugged on a short dark tendril. “Does this brain never stop working?”

“Not when I get a visual of a tall drink of water standing next to a shot glass.”

“I’m not quite sure what that means, but I think there was a compliment in there somewhere.”

“Don’t start imagining things at fifty thousand feet, Sullivan. We’re a long way from help.” She tugged on his blue-pinstriped tie. “You can ditch this now. Was dinner a formal affair?”

The light went out of his eyes. He yanked the tie off and stuffed it in his pants’ pocket. “It’s always formal with my parents.”

She patted his chest. “You did your duty, now move on.”

“Good advice.” He gestured for her to take the window seat.

She hesitated for a beat. Being trapped in the inside seat, surrounded by his potent masculinity, might be pushing her self-control a little thin. But his computer program blew her mind. From the tiny bit she’d seen, it had the potential to save her hours, if not days, of work.

“Ms. Reeves?” His breath wafted over her ear, sending a shiver racing down her spine. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” She realized he’d been talking while she fought off her panic attack. “Ah...hmm.” She cleared her throat to give herself a moment to calm down. “Why do you keep calling me by my last name?”

“Because I don’t know your first name,” he stated simply.

Oh, right. The flight attendants had used their last names. The prince had given her Zach’s name and then she’d read it on her spreadsheet.

“It’s Lindsay.”

A slow grin formed, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Pretty. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

So obvious, yet the words still gave her a bit of a thrill. She pressed her lips together to hide her reaction. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“What?” All innocence.

“Please. That line is so old I think I heard it in kindergarten.”

She expected to see his dimple flash but got an intent stare instead. “It’s not a line when it’s true.”

A little thrill chased goose bumps across her skin. Oh, my, he was good.

She almost believed him.

Shaking her head at him, at herself, she slid past him and dropped into the window seat.

He slid into his seat, his big body filling up the small space. Thankfully they were in first class and a ten-inch console separated their seats, giving her some breathing space. Until he flicked some buttons and the console dropped down.

“That’s better.”

For who? She leaned away as he leaned closer. Just as she feared, she felt pinned in, crowded. When he dropped the tray down in front of her, the sense of being squeezed from all sides grew stronger. Not by claustrophobia but by awareness. His scent—man and chocolate—made her mouth water.

“So is it easy for you?” He half laughed, going back to their previous conversation. “To move on?”

“It’s not, actually. My mom problems are probably just as bad as or worse than your parent problems. Yet, here I am, jetting off to Italy.”

Mom’s words, not hers. Darlene couldn’t understand how Lindsay could leave and be gone for a month when Darlene’s next wedding was fast approaching. It didn’t matter that Lindsay had booked this event well before Darlene got engaged or that it was the wedding of the year—perhaps the decade—and a huge honor for Lindsay to be asked to handle it.

“I doubt it.”

“Really? My mother is my best customer.”

“Oh-hh.” He dragged the word out.

“Exactly. Soon I’ll be walking her down the aisle to husband number six.”

“Ouch. Is she a glutton for punishment?”

“Quite the opposite. My mother loves to be in love. The minute a marriage becomes work, it’s the beginning of the end. What I can’t get her to understand is that you have to work on your marriage from day one. Love needs to be fostered and nourished through respect and compromise.”

“Honesty, communication and loyalty are key.”

“Yes!” She nudged him in the arm. “You get it. Maybe you won’t be such a bad best man, after all.”

He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Thanks.”

“Anyway. I can waste a lot of time worrying about Mom or I can accept that it’s her life to live. Just as my life is mine to live.” She didn’t know why she was sharing this with him. Her mother’s love life wasn’t a secret. Far from it. But Lindsay rarely talked about her mother. “Until the next time she comes crying on my shoulder, I choose the latter.”

“At least she lets her suckers off the line.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” He ran a hand around the back of his neck, loosening tight muscles. “It’s hard to let my parents just be when they keep harping on me to join the campaign trail.”

“They want you to run for office?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m to stop messing around with my little hobby and turn my mind to upholding the family name by running for the next open seat in congress.”

“Hobby? Didn’t I read an article that your company just landed a hundred-million-dollar government contract to upgrade electronic security for the military?”

“You did.” While he talked he opened the seating arrangement program. “And between that contract and Antonio selling me his share of the business, I’ve met a goal I set the day I opened my business.”

Clearly, resignation overshadowed pride, so she ventured, “You exceeded your father’s net worth?”

He shifted to study her. “So you’re psychic as well as a wedding planner?”

“When you work with people as closely as I do, you get to know how they think.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s an impressive accomplishment.”

The Sullivans came from old money made from banking and transportation. Their political dynasty went back several generations. “Your parents must be proud of you.”

“They didn’t even mention it. Too focused on when I’d leave it all behind and fall in line with my family obligations.” He tapped a few keys and her seating arrangement popped up on the screen. “Feels kind of hollow now.”

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t look up. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You mean it didn’t matter to them.”

He gave a negligent shrug. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

“Well, I officially call the parent battle a draw. I know it’s not the same but...congratulations.”

That earned her a half smile and a nod. Then he started to run her through the features of the computer program.

“This is fabulous.” All she had to do was type a name into a seat slot and all the notes associated with that name appeared sorted by category and importance. “You have saved me hours of work.”

His eyes gleamed as he went on to show her a few additional options. “And if you do this—” he punched a couple of keys “—it will auto-fill based on a selected category.” He clicked social standing and then pressed Enter. Names popped into assigned seats.

She blinked. “Wow. What do the colors mean?” Many of the names were in red and blue.

“Blue means there’s a conflict with someone else at the table. Red means there are two or more conflicts.”

While he showed her how to access the conflicts, she impulsively pressed the button to call the attendant. The blonde appeared with impressive speed, her smile dimming slightly when she saw Lindsay seated with Zach.

“How can I help you?”

“We’d like two glasses of champagne, please. And some strawberries if you have them.”

“I think I can find some. Be right back.”

“Champagne?” He cocked his head. “You turned it down earlier.”

“That was before. Now we have things to celebrate. I have this to help me finish my seating plan and you met a career-long goal.”

The attendant arrived with a tray, setting it down between them. “Buon appetito! Ms. Reeves, would you like us to do your turndown service now?”

“Sure.” Maybe the champagne would help her sleep. The woman turned away and Lindsay lifted a flute of bubbling gold wine. “To you. Congratulations and thank you.”

* * *

Zach lifted his flute and tapped it against Lindsay’s. “To you.” A crystal chime rang out as pretty as the sound of her laughter. Her simple gesture almost undid the butcher job his parent’s self-absorption had done to his pride. He didn’t get them, probably never would. They couldn’t spare the smallest show of affection. But this prickly little pixie put her animosity aside to toast his success.

She didn’t know him except as a helpful jerk and a few dry facts on paper. Heck, she hugged the window in an attempt to maintain her distance yet she still celebrated his accomplishment.

It almost made him feel bad about sabotaging the wedding.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_8b1b3278-bd35-5efe-a5a2-ee99df4220d5)

IT WAS A drastic plan. One Zach took no pleasure in. But he’d do whatever necessary to ensure his friend didn’t suffer the frigid existence his parents called marriage. Antonio was already sacrificing his life for his country; selling off his business interests in America to Zach. He shouldn’t have to give up all chance of happiness, too.

Zach reluctantly agreed to be best man. He didn’t believe in big, lavish weddings. And he didn’t approve of Tony’s insane sacrifice. So why would he agree? Because Tony was the closest thing he had to a brother. Of course, he had to support him.

And of course he felt compelled to talk him out of throwing his future away.

Zach knew the circumstances of Antonio’s marriage and it made him sick to think of his honorable, big-hearted friend locked into a miserable existence like his parents had shared.

He wasn’t thinking of doing anything overt. Certainly nothing that would embarrass the royal family, especially his best friend. But he could cause a few delays. And earn enough time to talk his friend out of making the biggest mistake of his life.

Tony had a lot on his plate taking on the leadership of his country. Halencia had reached a state of crisis. Antonio’s parents were gregarious, bigger-than-life characters madly in love with each other one moment and viciously in hate the next. There’d been public affairs and passionate reconciliations.

The country languished under their inattention. The king and queen lived big and spent big, costing the country much-needed funds.

The citizens of Halencia loved the drama, hated the politics. Demands for a change had started years ago but had become more persistent in the past five years. Until a year ago when the king was threatened with a paternity suit. It turned out Antonio wasn’t getting a new sibling. It was just a scare tactic gone wrong.

But it was the last straw for the citizens of Halencia.

The chancellor of the high counsel had gone to Antonio and demanded action be taken.

Antonio had flown home to advise his father the time had come. The king must abdicate and let Antonio rule or risk the monarchy being overthrown completely.

The citizens of Halencia cheered in the streets. Antonio was well loved in his home country. He lived and worked in California, but he took his duty as prince seriously. He returned home two or three times a year, maintaining a residence in Halencia and supporting many businesses and charities.

Everyone was happy. Except Tony, who had to leave everything he’d worked to achieve and go home to marry a woman he barely knew.

Zach knew the truth behind Tony’s impromptu engagement four years ago. He was one of a handful of people who did. And though it was motivated by love, it wasn’t for the woman he’d planned to marry.

Tony was a smart man. Zach just needed a little time to convince him that marriage was drastic and unnecessary.

Lindsay seemed like a nice person. She’d understand when this all played out. Surely she wouldn’t want to bring together two people who were not meant to be a couple. Plus, she’d get paid either way. And have a nice trip to Italy for her troubles.

Once he was in Halencia and had access to Tony and Christina, he’d subtly hound them until one or the other caved to the pressure. And maybe cause a snag or two along the way so the whole thing just seemed like a bad idea.

Of course he’d have to distract the pretty wedding planner with a faux flirtation to keep her from noticing his shenanigans. No hardship there. He was attracted enough to the feisty pixie to make it fun, but she was way too picket-fence for him so there was no danger of taking it too far.

He saw it as win, win, win. Especially for those not stuck in a loveless marriage.

She lifted her glass again. “And thanks again for this program.”

“I hope you like puzzles, because there’s still a lot of work there.”

“Not near what there was.” She picked up a strawberry, dipped it in her flute and sank dainty white teeth into the fruit. The ripe juice stained her lips red and he had the keenest urge to taste the sweetness left behind. “In fact, I may actually watch the movie.”

“Excellent.” He all but had her eating out of his hand with that act of kindness. And he’d needed something after stumbling onto the plane half blind with a migraine and sitting on the blasted dress. He’d popped some over-the-counter meds just before boarding. Thank the flight gods the headache had finally eased off.

He needed to stick close to her if this sabotage was going to work. He’d do his best to protect her as he went forward, but if it came down to a choice between her job and the happiness of the man who meant more to him than family, he’d choose Tony every time. No matter how pretty the wedding planner.

He’d revealed more about himself than he meant to, than he ever did really. But her attitude toward parental problems appealed to him: do what you can and move on. How refreshing to find someone who understood and accepted that not all parents were perfect. Many people didn’t get along with their parents but most loved and respected them.

He tolerated his parents, but he wasn’t willing to make a total break, which probably meant he harvested hope for a better relationship at some point. He couldn’t imagine what might bring it about so he pretty much ignored them except when he was on the east coast or at a family function requiring his presence.

Next to him Lindsay sipped champagne and flipped through the movie choices. The dim lights caught the gold in her light brown hair. She had the thick mass rolled up and pinned in place but soft wisps had broken free to frame her face. He wondered how long the confined tresses would flow down her back. Her creamy complexion reminded him of the porcelain dolls his mother collected, complete with a touch of red in the cheeks though Lindsay’s was compliments of the champagne.

She shot him a sideways glance, a question in her pretty baby blue eyes.

He realized she’d asked a question. “Sorry. I got lost in looking at you.”

A flush added to the red in her cheeks and a hand pushed at the pins in her hair. “I asked if you preferred the comedy or the World War One drama.” She turned back to the screen, fidgeted with the buttons. “But maybe I should just go back to my seat.”

“No. Stay. This is my celebration, after all.”

She glanced at him through lush lashes. “Okay, but you’ll have to behave.”

“I’ll have you know my mother raised me to be a gentleman.”

“Uh-huh.” She made the decision for them with the push of a button. “That might be reassuring, except I doubt you’ve been under your mother’s influence for quite some time.”

He grinned and reached up to turn off the overhead light. “Very astute, Ms. Reeves.”

* * *

Lindsay came awake to the rare sense of being wrapped in warm, male arms. She shot straight up in her seat, startling the man she cuddled against. His whiskey-brown eyes opened and blinked at her, the heat in his slumberous gaze rolling through her like liquid fire.

Escape. Now. The words were like a beeping alarm going off in her head.

“Can you let me out?” She pushed away from him, gaining a few inches and hopefully reinforcing the message to move. Now.

“Is the movie over?” He reined her in with an easy strength. His broad chest lifted under her as he inhaled a huge breath and then let it go in a yawn.

“Yes. This was fun.” Too much fun. Time to get back to the real world. “But I need to get past you.” He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear instead of moving. The heat of his touch called for desperate measures. “I’ve got to pee.”

He blinked. Then the corner of his mouth tipped up and he stood. “Me, too.” He helped her up and gestured for her to go first.

“You go ahead,” she urged him. “I want to grab a few things to freshen up with.”

“Good idea.” He opened the overhead compartment and grabbed a small bag. “Can I help you get anything?”

“Thank you, no.” She waited until he wandered off to gather what she needed from her tote.

The attendants had performed her turndown service so both beds were down for the night. She automatically checked the garment bag holding the royal wedding dress. It lay nicely in place, undisturbed since the last time she checked. She bent to retrieve her tote from under the seat in front of hers and decided to take the bag with her. Strap looped over her shoulder, she hurried down the aisle.

It was after one and the people she passed appeared to be out for the count. Even the attendants were strapped in and resting. Good. Lindsay intended to take her time. She wanted Zach to be back in his seat and sound asleep when she returned.

He was too charming, too hot, too available for her peace of mind. She hadn’t needed to hear his views on marriage to know he was single. From her research she’d already gathered he had commitment issues. The only hint of an engagement had been back in his college days.

She’d found that snippet of information because she’d been researching his history with the prince. They’d both been going to Harvard’s school of business but they’d met on the swim team. They both broke records for the school, Zach edging out Antonio with a few more wins. Antonio explained those extra wins came from Zach’s longer reach. In the picture accompanying the article it was clear that Zach had at least three inches on all his teammates.

Tall, dark and handsome. Tick, tick, tick. The stereotype fit him to a tee, but did little to actually describe him. He was brilliant yet a terrible flirt. Could apologize when he was wrong and laugh at himself. But it was the touch of vulnerability surrounding his desire for his parents’ approval that really got to her. She understood all too well the struggle between respect and love when it came to parents.

Bottom line: the man was dangerous. Way out of her league. And a distraction she couldn’t afford. She may be headed for one of the most beautiful places on earth, but this was so not a vacation. She needed to stay sharp and focused to pull off the wedding of the century.

Face washed, teeth brushed, changed into yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, she glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes had passed. That should be enough time. She gathered her clothes and toiletries and tucked them neatly into her tote before making her way quietly back to her seat.

Zach lay sprawled on his bed. He was so tall he barely fit; in fact, one leg was off the bed braced against the floor. No doubt he had a restless night ahead of him. For once she’d sleep. Or pretend to. Because engaging in middle-of-the-night intimacies with Zach Sullivan could only result in trouble. Trouble she couldn’t afford.

Climbing into her bed, she pulled the covers around her shoulders and determinedly closed her eyes.

She had this under control. She’d just ignore the man. If she needed something from the groom, she’d get it from the palace representative or Christina. There was no need for her to deal with Zach Sullivan at all. That suited her fine. She’d learned her lesson.

No more falling into the trap of self-delusion because a man paid a little attention to her. But more important—work and play did not go together.

* * *

“There must be some mistake.” Lindsay advised the car-rental clerk. “I made my reservation over two months ago.”

“Scusa. No mistake. My records show the reservation was canceled.”

“That’s impossible,” Lindsay protested. Exhaustion tugged at her frayed nerves. This couldn’t be happening. With everything she needed to do for the wedding, she absolutely required a vehicle to get around. “I had my assistant confirm all my reservations a week ago.”

The clerk, a harried young man, glanced at the line behind her before asking with exaggerated patience, “Perhaps it is under a different name?”

“No, it is under my name.” She gritted her teeth. “Please look again.”

“Of course.” He hit a few keys. “It says here the reservation was canceled last night.”

“Last night? That doesn’t make any sense at all. I was in the middle of a transatlantic flight.” Enough. Arguing did her no good. She just wanted a car and to get on the road. “You know it doesn’t matter. Let’s just start over.”

“Scusa, Ms. Reeves. We have no other vehicles available. Usually we would, but many have started to arrive for the royal wedding. The press especially. And they are keeping the vehicles. We have requested more autos from other sites but they won’t be here for several days.”

“There you are.” A deep male voice sounded from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Zach towering over her. Dang, so much for losing him at the luggage carousel. Assuming her professional demeanor, she sent him a polite smile. “Have a good trip to Monte Calanetti. I’ll keep you posted with updates on the arrangements. I’m going to be here for a bit.” She smiled even brighter. “They’ve lost my car reservation.”

“They didn’t lose it. I canceled it.”

“What?” All pretense of politeness dropped away. “Why would you do that?”

He held up a set of keys. “Because we’re going to drive to Monte Calanetti together. Don’t you remember? We talked about this during the movie last night.”

She shook her head. She remembered him asking her what car-rental company she’d used and comparing their accommodation plans; he’d rented a villa while she had a room at a boutique hotel. Nowhere in her memory lurked a discussion about driving to Monte Calanetti together. There was no way she would have agreed to that. Not only did it go against her new decree to avoid him whenever possible, but she needed a vehicle to properly do her job.

“No,” she declared, “I don’t remember.”

“Hmm. Must be champagne brain. No problem. I’ve got a Land Rover. Plenty of room for you, me and the dress.” He grabbed up the garment bag, caught the handle of her larger suitcase and headed off. “Let’s roll.”

“Wait. No.” Feeling panicked as the dress got further out of her reach, she glared at the clerk. “I want my reservation reinstated and as soon as a car is available, I want it delivered.” She snatched up a card. “I’ll call you with the address.”

Dragging her smaller suitcase, Lindsay weaved her way through the crowd, following in Zach’s wake. Luckily his height made him easy to spot. She was right on his heels when he exited the airport.

Humidity smacked her in the face as soon as she stepped outside; making her happy she’d paired her beige linen pants with a navy-and-beige asymmetrical short-sleeved tunic.

Champagne brain, her tush. What possible motive could he have for canceling her reservation if she hadn’t agreed?

This just proved his potent appeal spelled danger.

Okay, no harm done. She handed him her smaller case and watched as he carefully placed the garment bag across the backseat. It should only take a couple of hours to reach Monte Calanetti. Then she could cut ties with the guy and concentrate on doing her job.

“How long to Monte Calanetti from here?” she asked as he held the door while she slid into the passenger seat.

“I’ve never driven it, but I can’t imagine it’s more than a few hours.” He closed her in, rounded the front of the Land Rover and climbed into the driver’s seat. A few minutes later they were in the thick of Florence traffic.

The old world elegance of the city charmed her, but the stop and go of the early evening traffic proclaimed work-force congestion was the same worldwide. She could admit, if only to herself, that she was glad not to be driving in it.

“Have you’ve been to Tuscany before?” she asked Zach.

“I’ve been several times. A couple of times with Antonio and once with my parents when I was twelve.”

“So you know your way around?” She smothered a yawn.

“I do.” He shot her an amused glance. “Enough to get us where we’re going.”

“I was just going to offer to navigate if you needed me to.”

He stopped at a traffic light, taking the time to study her. “Thanks.” He reached out and swept a thumb under her left eye in a soft caress. “You’re tired. I guess relaxing didn’t help you sleep.”

She turned her head away from his touch. “I slept a little, off and on.”

“Disrupted sleep can be less restful than staying awake.” He sympathized. “Are you better at sleeping in a car?”

“Who can’t sleep in a car? But I’m fine. I don’t want to miss the sights. The city is so beautiful.”

He drove with confidence and skill and a patience she lacked. He’d shaved on the plane; his sexy scruff gone when she woke this morning. The hard, square lines of his clean-cut jaw were just as compelling as the wicked shadow. The man couldn’t look bad in a bag, not with a body like that.

Unlike her, he hadn’t changed clothes, he still wore his black suit pants and white long-sleeved shirt, but the top two buttons were open and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. The suit jacket had been tossed onto the backseat.

“Florence is beautiful. The depth of history just draws me in. Halencia is the same. Since I’ll be here for a month, I’m really hoping to get a chance to play tourist.”

“Oh, absolutely. They have some really fantastic tours. I plan to stay after the wedding and take one. I’m torn between a chef and wine-tasting tour or a hiking tour.”

“Wow, there’s quite a difference there.”

“I’m not going to lie to you. I’m leaning toward the pasta and wine tour. It goes to Venice. I’ve always wanted to go to Venice.”

“Oh, yeah,” he mocked, “it’s all about Venice and nothing about the walking.”

“Hey, I’m a walker. I love to hike. I’ll share some of my brochures with you. There are some really great tours. If you like history, there’s a Tuscan Renaissance tour that sounds wonderful.”

“Sounds interesting. I’d like to see the brochures.”

“Since technology is your thing, I’m surprised you’re so into history.”

“I minored in history. What can I say? I’m from New England. You can’t throw a rock without hitting a historical marker. In my studies I was always amazed at how progressive our founding fathers were. Benjamin Franklin truly inspired me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” He sent her a chiding sidelong look. “I did my thesis on the sustainability of Franklin’s inventions and observations in today’s world. He was a brilliant man.”

“And a great politician,” she pointed out.

“I can’t deny that, but he didn’t let his political views define or confine him. I respect him for that. For him it wasn’t about power but about proper representation.”

“I feel that way about most of our founding fathers. So tell me something I probably don’t know about big Ben.”

“He was an avid swimmer.”

“Like you and Antonio. Aha. No wonder you like him—” A huge yawn distorted the last word. “Oh.” She smothered it behind a hand. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t feel you have to keep me company. Rest if you can. Jet lag can be a killer.”

“Thanks.” He’d just given her the perfect out from having to make conversation for the next hour. She’d snap the offer up if she weren’t wide-eyed over the sights. Nothing in California rivaled the history and grandeur of the buildings still standing tall on virtually every street.

Zach turned a corner and the breath caught in the back of Lindsay’s throat. Brunelleschi’s Dome filled the skyline in all its Gothic glory. She truly was in Italy. Oh, she wanted to play tourist. But it would have to wait. Work first.

Riding across a beautiful, sculpted old bridge, she imagined the people who once crossed on foot. Soon rural views replaced urban views and in the distance clouds darkened the sky, creating a false twilight.

Lindsay shivered. She hoped they reached Monte Calanetti before the storm hit. She didn’t care for storms, certainly didn’t want to get caught out in one. The turbulence reminded her of anger, the thunder of shouting. As a kid, she’d hated them.

She didn’t bury her head under the covers anymore. But there were times she wanted to.

Lightning flickered in the distance. Rather than watch the storm escalate, she closed her eyes as sleep claimed her. Her last thoughts were of Zach.

* * *

Lack of motion woke Lindsay. She opened her eyes to a dark car and an eerie silence. Zach was nowhere in view. Stretching, she turned around, looking for him. No sign. She squinted out the front windshield.

Good gracious, was the hood open?

She pushed her door open and stepped out, her feet crunching on gravel as a cool wind whipped around her. Hugging herself she walked to the front of the Land Rover. Zach was bent over the engine using a flashlight to ineffectually examine the vehicle innards. “What’s going on?”

“A broken belt is my best guess.” He straightened and directed the light toward the ground between them. “I’ve already called the rental company. They’re sending a service truck.”

She glanced around at the unrelenting darkness. Not a single light sparkled to show a sign of civilization. “Sending a truck where? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“They’ll find us. The vehicle has a GPS.”

Relief rushed through her. “Oh. That’s good.” She’d had visions of spending the night on the side of the road in a storm-tossed tin can. “Did they say how long before they got here? Eee!” She started and yelped when thunder boomed overhead. The accompanying flash of lightening had her biting back a whimper to the metallic taste of blood.

“As soon as they can.” He took her elbow and escorted her to the passenger’s-side door. “Let’s stay in the car. The storm looks like it’s about to break.”

His big body blocked the wind, his closeness bringing warmth and rock-solid strength. For a moment she wanted to throw herself into his arms. Before she could give in to the urge, he helped her into her seat and slammed the door. A moment later he slid in next to her. He immediately turned the light off. She swallowed hard in a mouth suddenly dry.

“Can we keep the light on?” The question came out in a harsh rasp.

“I think we should conserve it, just in case.”

“Just in case what?” It took a huge effort to keep any squeak out of her voice. “The truck doesn’t come?”

“Just in case. Here—” He reached across the center console and took her hand, warming it in his. “You’re shaking. Are you cold?” He dropped her hand to reach behind him. “Take my jacket.”

She leaned forward and the heavy weight of his suit jacket wrapped around her shoulders. The satin lining slid coolly over her skin but quickly heated up. The scent of Zach clung to the material and she found it oddly comforting.

“Thank you. You won’t be cold?”

She heard the rustle of movement and pictured him shrugging. “I’m okay right now. Hopefully the tow truck will get here before the cold seeps in. Worst case, we can move into the backseat and cuddle together under the jacket.”

Okay, that option was way too tempting.

“Or you could get another one out of your luggage.”

His chuckle preceded another crash of thunder. “Pixie girl, I don’t know if my ego can survive you.”

Maybe the dark wasn’t so bad since he hadn’t seen her flinch. Then his words struck her. “Pixie girl? That’s the second time you called me that.”

“Yes. Short and feisty. You remind me of a pixie.”

“I am average,” she stated with great dignity. “You’re a giant.”

“You barely reach my shoulder.”

“Again, I refer you to the term ‘giant.’” She checked her phone, welcoming the flare of light, but they were in the Italian version of Timbuktu so of course there was no service.

“Uh-huh. Feisty, pretty and short. Pixie it is.”

Pretty? He’d called her that before, too. Pleasure bolstered her drooping spirits. She almost didn’t care when the light faded again. Not that his admission changed her feelings toward him. He was a dangerous, charming man but she didn’t have to like him just because he thought she was pretty. He was still off limits.

Hopefully he took her silence as disdain.

Right. On the positive side, the bit of vanity served to distract her for a few minutes. Long enough for headlights to appear on the horizon. No other vehicles had passed them in the twenty minutes she’d been awake so she said a little prayer that the approaching headlights belonged to their repair truck.

“Is the repair service coming from Monte Calanetti? How far away do you think we are?” She feared the thought of walking, but she didn’t want to stay in the car all night, either.

“We’re nowhere near Monte Calanetti,” Zach announced. “By my guess we’re about ten miles outside Caprese.”

“Caprese?” Lindsay yelped in outrage. Caprese was the small village where the artist Michelangelo was born. “That’s the other direction from Monte Calanetti from Florence. What are we doing here?”

“I told you last night. I have an errand to run for Antonio before I go to Monte Calanetti. It’s just a quick stop to check on his groomsmen gifts and do a fitting.”

“You so did not tell me.”

“I’m pretty sure I did. You really can’t hold your champagne, can you?”

“Stop saying ‘champagne brain.’ When did we have this conversation? Did I actually participate or was I sleeping?”

“You were talking, but I suppose you might have dozed off. You got quiet toward the end. I thought you were just involved in the movie. And then I fell asleep.”

“Well, I don’t remember half of what you’ve told me. You should have reminded me of the plans we supposedly made this morning. I need to get to Monte Calanetti and I need my own car. I know you’re trying to be helpful but...”

“But I got you stuck out in the middle of nowhere. And you’re already tired from the flight. I’m sorry.”

Lindsay clenched her teeth in frustration watching as the headlights slowly moved closer. Sorry didn’t fix the situation. She appreciated the apology—many men wouldn’t have bothered—but it didn’t get her closer to Monte Calanetti. She had planned to hit the road running tomorrow with a visit to the wedding venue, the Palazzo di Comparino and restored chapel, before meeting with Christina in the afternoon.

Now she’d have to reschedule, move the interview back.

“Lindsay?” Zach prompted. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to rearrange my schedule in my head.” She glanced at her watch, which she’d already adjusted to local time. Seven-fifteen. It felt much later. “What do you think our chances are of getting to Monte Calanetti tonight?”

“Slim. I doubt we’ll find a mechanic willing to work on the Land Rover tonight. We’ll probably have to stay over and head out tomorrow after it’s fixed.”

“If they have the necessary part.”

“That will be a factor, yes. Here’s our help.” A small pickup honked as it drove past them then made a big U-turn and pulled up in front of them.

Zach hopped out to meet the driver.

Lindsay slid her arms into Zach’s jacket and went to join them.

“Think it’s the timing belt.” Zach aimed his flashlight at the engine as he explained the problem to the man next to him. Their savior had gray-streaked black hair and wore blue coveralls. The name on his pocket read Luigi.

“Ciao, signora,” the man greeted her.

She didn’t bother to correct him, more eager to have him locate the problem than worried about his assumption that she and Zach were married.

The driver carried a much bigger flashlight. The power of it allowed the men a much better view of the internal workings of the Land Rover. The man spoke pretty good English and he and Zach discussed the timing belt and a few other engine parts, none of which Lindsay followed but she understood clearly when he said he’d have to tow them into Caprese.

Wonderful.

Luigi invited her to sit in his truck while he got the Land Rover hooked up to be towed. She nodded and retrieved her purse. Zach walked her to the truck and held the door for her. The interior smelled like grease and cleanser, but it was neat and tidy.

“From what I remember from my research of Italy, small is a generous adjective when describing Caprese. At just over a thousand residents, ‘tiny’ would be more accurate. I’m not sure it has a hotel if we need to stay over.”

“I’m sure there’ll be someplace. I’ll ask Luigi. It’s starting to rain. I’m going to see if I can help him to make things go faster.” He closed the door and darkness enveloped her.

The splat of rain on the windshield made her realize her ire at the situation had served to distract her from the looming storm. With its arrival, she forgot her schedule and just longed for sturdy shelter and a warm place to spend the night.

A few minutes later the men joined her. Squeezed between them on the small bench seat, she leaned toward Zach to give Luigi room to drive. The first right curve almost put her in Zach’s lap.

“There’s a bed-and-breakfast in town. Luigi’s going to see about a room for us there.” Zach spoke directly into her ear, his warm breath blowing over her skin.

She shivered. That moment couldn’t come soon enough. The closer they got to town, the harder it rained. Obviously they were headed into the storm rather than away from it.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a small garage. Lindsay dashed through the rain to the door and then followed the men inside to an office that smelled like the truck and was just as tidy. Luigi immediately picked up the phone and dialed. He had a brief conversation in Italian before hanging up.

He beamed at Lindsay and Zach. “Bene, bene, my friends. The bed-and-breakfast is full with visitors. Si, the bad weather—they do not like to drive. But I have procured for you the last room. Is good, si?”

“Si. Grazie, Luigi.” Zach expressed his appreciation then asked about the repairs.

For Lindsay only two words echoed through her head: one room.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_4c649f5d-c1f7-59dc-aba0-04753092dc73)

THE B AND B WAS a converted farmhouse with stone walls, long, narrow rooms and high ceilings. The furniture was sparse, solid and well worn.

Lindsay carried the heavy garment bag to the wardrobe and arranged it as best she could and then turned to face the room she’d share with Zach. Besides the oak wardrobe there was a queen bed with four posters, one nightstand, a dresser with a mirror above it and a hardback chair. Kindling rested in a fireplace with a simple wooden mantel, ready to be lit.

The bathroom was down the hall.

No sofa or chair to sleep on and below her feet was an unadorned hardwood floor. There was no recourse except to share the bed.

And the bedspread was a wedding ring quilt. Just perfect.

Her mother would say it was a sign. She’d actually have a lot more to say, as well, but Lindsay ruthlessly put a lock on those thoughts.

Lightening flashed outside the long, narrow window. Lindsay pulled the heavy drapes closed, grateful for the accommodation. She may have to share with a near stranger and the room may not be luxurious, but it was clean and authentic, and a strong, warm barrier against the elements.

Now why did that make her think of Zach?

The rain absorbed the humidity and dropped the temperature a good twenty degrees. The stone room was cool. Goose bumps chased across her skin.

She lit the kindling and once it caught added some wood. Warmth spread into the room. Unable to wait any longer, she made a quick trip down the hall. Zach was still gone when she got back. He’d dropped off her luggage and had gone back for his. She rolled the bigger case over next to the wardrobe. She didn’t think she’d need anything out of it for one night.

The smaller one she set on the bed. She’d just unzipped it when a thud came at the door.

Zach surged into the room with three bags in tow.

“Oh, my goodness. You are soaked.” She closed the door and rushed to the dresser. The towels were in the top drawer just as the innkeeper said.

Zach took it and scrubbed his face and head.

She tugged at his sopping jacket, glad now she’d thought to give it back to him. “Let’s get this off you.”

He allowed her to work it off. Under the jacket his shirt was so damp it clung to his skin in several places. He shivered and she led him over to the fireplace.

“Oh, yeah.” He draped the towel around his neck and held his hands out to the heat.

“Take the shirt off, too,” she urged him. She reached out with her free hand to help with the task, but when her fingers came skin to skin with his shoulder she decided it might be best if he handled the job himself.

To avoid looking at all the tanned, toned flesh revealed by the stripping off of his shirt, Lindsay held the dripping jacket aloft. What were they going to do with it? He handed her the shirt. With them?

A knock sounded at the door. Leaving Zach by the fire, Lindsay answered the knock. A plump woman in a purple jogging suit with more gray than black in her hair gave Lindsay a bright smile.

“Si, signora.” She pointed to the dripping clothes, “I take?”

“Oh. Grazie.” Lindsay handed the wet clothes through the door.

“And these, too.” From behind the door Zach thrust his pants forward.

Okay, then. She just hoped he’d kept his underwear on.

“Si, si.” The woman’s smile grew broader. She took the pants while craning her head to try to see behind Lindsay. She rolled off something in Italian. Lindsay just blinked at her.

“She said the owner was sending up some food for us.”

As if on cue, Lindsay’s stomach gurgled. The mention of food made her realize how hungry she was. It had been hours since they’d eaten on the plane. “Si.” She nodded. “Grazie.”

The woman nodded and, with one last glance into the room, turned and walked down the hall.

“You have a fan.” Lindsay told Zach when she closed the door. “Oh, my good dog.” The man had his back to her as he leaned over the bed rummaging through his luggage. All he wore was a pair of black knit boxer briefs that clung to his butt like a lover. The soft cloth left little to the imagination and there was a lot to admire.

No wonder the maid had been so enthralled.

And Lindsay had to sleep next to that tonight.

“What about a dog?” He turned those whiskey-brown eyes on her over one broad, bare shoulder.

Her knees went weak, nearly giving out on her. She sank into the hard chair by the fire.

“Dog? Huh? Nothing.” Her mother had taught her to turn the word around so she didn’t take the Lord’s name in vain. After all these years, the habit stuck.

He tugged on a gray T-shirt.

Thank the merciful angels in heaven.

“I’m going to take a quick shower. Don’t eat all the food.”

“No promises.”

He grinned. “Then I’ll just have to hurry.”

He disappeared out the door with his shaving kit under one arm and the towel tossed over his shoulder.

Finally Lindsay felt as though she could breathe again.

He took up so much space. A room that seemed spacious one moment shrank by three sizes when he crossed the threshold. Even with him gone the room smelled of him.

She patted her pocket. Where was her phone? She needed it now, needed to call the rental agency that very moment and demand a car be delivered to her. They should never have allowed a party outside the reservation to cancel. They owed her.

The hunt proved futile. Her phone wasn’t in her purse, her tote or either suitcase. She thought back to the last time she’d used it. In the Land Rover, where it had been pitch-black. It must still be in the vehicle.

That was at the garage.

There’d be no getting her phone tonight. Dang it.

Stymied from making the call she wanted to, she took advantage of Zach’s absence to gather her own toiletries and yoga pants and long-sleeved tee she’d worn on the plane. And a pair of socks. Yep, she’d wear gloves to bed if she had any with her. And if she had any luck at all, he’d wear a three-piece suit.

There’d be no skin-to-skin contact if she could help it.

Loosen up, Lindsay. Her mom’s voice broke through her blockade. You’re young and single and about to share a bed with one prime specimen. You should be thinking of ways to rock the bed not bulletproof yourself against an accidental touch.

How sad was it that her mother was more sexually aggressive than she was?




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