Aimee Carson - Don't Tell the Wedding Planner

When Tommy’s chuckle finally died down, he said, “That headhunter called again today.”

The news formed a knot in Matt’s chest and expanded, the pressure creating a wound that would never fully heal. The first time the recruiter from Jaris Hawking Healthcare had called about a job, Matt had been thrilled. At the time he’d been too busy cleaning up the last of his brother’s latest mess to search for a job, but things with Tommy had seemed to be settled and Matt was ready to finally make the longed-for career move. Matt had spent hours researching the busy hospital in Miami, looking forward to the excitement he craved. But just when he’d been set to sign the papers, Tommy had relapsed again, requiring another round of rehab. And a family member to be there to ensure it happened. Matt had finally realized that he’d never be able to move.

Giving up that dream had hurt like hell, but there was no sense rehashing old disappointments.

Tommy went on, “They said they were desperate for someone with your talents.”

“I hope you told him I’m still not interested.” If he repeated the lie enough, he just might begin to believe it. Besides, he had more important things to ask. “How’s work?” He aimed for a nonchalant tone, but he knew Tommy saw straight through the question.

“You don’t need to check up on me, Matt.” Tommy didn’t sound annoyed, just resigned. “Work is fine. Penny is fine. I’m fine.”

“You sure you two geeked-out lovebirds want to get hitched during a lame-ass reenactment of a video game? Not too late to go for the Elvis wedding in Vegas. Or better yet, a pirate-themed adventure wedding in Hawaii. Think of it. A week’s vacation in Maui with all expenses paid by yours truly. What better wedding gift could a brother ask for, huh? I could do with a base tan myself.”

“The wedding absolutely has to be in New Orleans. We want trolls. And dragons. And Matt...?”

Matt dropped onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard and propping up his feet. “Yeah, sport?”

“I’ll pay you back.”

Matt’s lips twisted wryly as affection kicked him the chest. Every goddamned time. The kid had spent the past twenty-five years worming his way into Matt’s heart, until Tommy was so firmly entrenched, there was nothing Matt could do. He could picture his brother’s wavy brown hair, earnest face and appreciative gaze. Beneath those ribs beat a heart of gold.

Amazing what havoc an addiction could inflict.

“You bet you’ll pay me back,” Matt said with a teasing tone. “With twenty percent interest. Wait, I forgot about inflation. Make that thirty percent. Didn’t I tell you? You’re my retirement fund.”

“Which means you’re screwed, bro.”

Matt let out a scoff. “Better odds than on Wall Street.”

Tommy laughed. When his brother finally grew silent, Matt went on.

“Seriously, though?” Matt said. “Don’t worry about the money. That’s what brothers are for. Just...”

Keep it together.

Stay clean.

Don’t break my heart again.

“Just make sure that future wife of yours doesn’t kick your ass on level ten like last month or I’ll have to disown you,” Matt said.

Matt could hear the smile in Tommy’s voice. “You got it.”

TWO

Two days later Callie studied Matt as he drove her Toyota out of New Orleans. It had been a long time since Callie had been so curious about a guy. Matt was friendly, charming, and sexy enough to eat with her fingers. There’d been no sign of embarrassment at being caught staring at her cleavage.

Even now the memory left her body vibrating with energy.

But a lingering hint of hesitation clung to him, a reserve that was fascinating. Intriguing. He’d shown up at the reception two nights ago with goal written all over his face.

They’d been traveling for about an hour now, but hadn’t had a chance to talk much about business. Callie had been too busy directing him around town to potential parks to use as the site for the Dungeons of Zhorg weekend. The first two were mostly a bust. But she had high hopes for the one they were heading to now.

She’d asked Matt to drive, explaining she needed to take notes while they discussed the plans for the event, listing out the pros and cons of the two sites they’d just checked out. But the excuse sounded lame, even to her. Especially considering she spent half her time giving Matt directions. But she didn’t care. Because with his attention on the traffic, and her vantage point from the passenger seat, she was free to enjoy the view.

And she wasn’t talking about the city she loved.

Matt’s lean, muscular frame filled the driver’s seat of her car. Given the heat wave that had settled in yesterday, he’d wisely chosen to wear shorts. Shorts that allowed a view of hard thighs. Muscular calves.

He’d had to push the seat all the way back to allow room for his long legs. His olive-colored T-shirt clung to a broad set of shoulders and biceps that flexed with every turn of the steering wheel. Not grossly big. More like well-defined and...just right. Enticing. Callie preferred the casual clothes to Friday night’s slacks and button-down. Because today he looked more relaxed. He also looked as though he’d gotten some sleep.

A large truck ahead of them whipped into their lane, and Matt reacted instantly to avoid the hit. No cursing. No frazzled look. Not even an indrawn breath or a frown for the dangerous driver.

Just like Friday night, when he’d shown up so focused, he employed a plan-and-attack mantra while driving. Goal written all over his face. Focused. Decisive. He never hesitated. And he had lightning-fast reflexes, if the maneuver he just pulled was anything to go by. They turned into the parking lot of their next potential venue, a grassy park on the outskirts of town.

Matt turned off the car and glanced at Callie, and she realized he’d just caught her studying him. Very closely. And thoroughly.

“Is this the equivalent of me staring down your cleavage?” he asked.

She ignored the heat thrumming through her veins and exited the car, missing the air-conditioning already and waiting for him to follow suit to respond. “Just admiring your quick reflexes.”

From across the roof of her Toyota, his lips quirked. “So you were checking out my...skills.”

She bit back a smile. “We have a lot of planning to do, Mr. Paulson.”

“Matt.”

“Matt,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m just trying to figure you out. And decide whether you’re gonna be the guy who makes my job easier or harder.”

Normally she meant the words in the sense of a client being difficult. Hard to please. And far too demanding in their wedding-day wishes. Or incapable of making up their mind.

With Matt she knew the decisions would come quickly and decisively. Yep, with Matt the easier or harder delineation was based on Callie’s ability, or inability, to stay focused with such a fine specimen of male anatomy on display.

“What have you decided?” he asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said with a tiny grin. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

After a few beats filled with a scorching temperature courtesy of New Orleans’s latest heat wave and Matt’s assessing gaze, he gave a sharp nod and headed up the brick walkway.

Fortunately the path was lined with oaks providing shade from the relentless sun. The playground to their left hummed with the activity of a few families crazy enough to brave the temperatures. An ice-cream truck was parked along the curb. The beautifully maintained park was clearly well run, the amenities nice. Even the current weather had been addressed. Misting machines with large fans had been set up along the path in front, providing blessed relief from the heat.