Teresa Carpenter - The Best Man and The Wedding Planner

“ 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.