Aimee Carson - Don't Tell the Wedding Planner

“Now she’s clean,” she said.

“She’s been clean before.”

Callie let out a scoff. “‘My good opinion once lost is lost forever.’”

He opened his eyes, and that brown gaze landed on hers, sending a self-conscious flush up her face. She could read the question and surprise in his expression. She hadn’t meant to wear her own struggles quite so clearly, or to sound quite so personally invested.

She shrugged, trying to ease her discomfort. “Just a quote from Mr. Darcy, from Pride and Prejudice.” When he didn’t comment, she went on, “My favorite book.”

On her thirteenth birthday her mother had taken her to the library and she’d checked out the paperback. She’d spent the next two days glued to the book, her mother practically dragging her from her room to come eat dinner. Growing up poor meant Callie could relate to the Bennet sisters. She’d admired Lizzy’s courage and her determination to marry for love only, despite the very real risk of poverty, causing Callie’s transformation from a total tomboy into a romantic. The book had had such an impact, she’d spent the weeks after imaging Lizzy and Darcy’s wedding, and she’d developed a passion for bridal magazines and picturing the perfect ceremony.

Starting Fantasy Weddings had been a natural extension of that passion.

“I’ve never read Pride and Prejudice,” Matt said.

“I’m not surprised.”

A lull in the conversation followed, and she wanted to ask about Matt’s experiences with his brother, to learn the details about the current state of the relationship between the two. However, Callie sensed asking anything more would go over like a hot toddy during a heat wave.

“How did Tommy and Penny meet?” she asked.

“As total geekster gamers and pros at your ex’s zombie apocalypse game, they were selected as beta testers for Dungeons of Zhorg. That was how they met online. And then they discovered they’d fought the same addiction, and eventually fell in love. I think—” He pursed his lips. “I think the game helped keep them from slipping. Gave them something to focus on.”

Which would explain Matt’s willingness to take on this crazy task.

“I have to admit,” she said softly, “I’m a sucker for a romantic story.” And this one really struck a chord. Two people who’d lost themselves in a dark world and managed to pull out with the help of each other and a video game. Slaying dragons online as they fought their personal demons.

Callie smiled at the ridiculously fanciful thought. But no wonder Colin agreed to the weekend wedding/festival named after his latest game.

When Matt didn’t comment, Callie went on, “Who’s going to give Penny away?”

“She asked me, but I told her to get one of her Dungeon of Zhorg buddies. I can’t do it because I’m Tommy’s best man.”

She let out an amused huff. “It’s not like this is a traditional wedding. No reason why you can’t be both.”

“I’m not her family.”

“You will be.”

Two seconds ticked by before he hiked a brow. Mist had accumulated on his neck and trickled down to gather in the hollow at his throat. She had the sudden urge to lick the spot, and heat shot up her limbs and settled between her legs.

Shoot. Admiring the man was one thing. Wanting to treat him like her favorite brand of ice-cream cone was another.

And while he looked slightly put out by her pushing, the light in his eyes held a hint of amusement. “Does the family counseling come with the cost of your services or will that be extra?”

Callie grinned. “Just the cost of a trip to the ice-cream truck.”

If she couldn’t lick the real thing, she could at least enjoy the substitute. The lopsided smile he sent her did nothing to quell her appreciation of his form.

“So I’m buying?” he asked.

“You’re buying.”

* * *

In the end Callie chose a lemon-lime Popsicle, while Matt went with his favorite, chocolate. Cooler now that they were damp from head to toe, they wandered beneath the oaks back to Callie’s car, in no particular hurry. Not only because of the relief they’d accomplished the most pressing task, selecting a site for the DoZ weekend. But also because Matt felt no sense of urgency to leave.

Especially when Callie looked as if she’d just entered a wet T-shirt contest. It had been a while since his college buddies had dragged him to such an event during his relatively carefree undergraduate days. At the time he’d thought the rigors of academics and obtaining the grades for medical school had been stressful.

But then his parents had died, leaving him solely responsible for Tommy.

And the sight of Callie’s lovely chest beneath the wet garments did more than just bring back great memories of happier times, it also turned him the hell on.

Not exactly conducive to his get-in and get-out goals.

Her damp shirt clung to her skin, and he could make out the lace of the bra beneath. White, if he wasn’t mistaken. And if he tried hard enough, he could imagine the darker circle of skin beneath the center of each breast. He could definitely make out the rounder buds.

“I told you they weren’t as big as the slutty Scarlett O’Hara dress suggested.”

Busted.

The relaxed look on her face eased the tension in his shoulders. Though she certainly had good reason, she didn’t appear overly annoyed by his tendency to check out her form. In fact, she seemed more...amused. As though he was just a stupid kid who couldn’t help himself.

Which wasn’t too far from the truth, aside from the kid part. The stupid description fit just fine.

“I promise,” he said. “I’m not a total pervert.”

“Does that mean you’re a partial one?”

He threw back his head and laughed. When the amusement finally passed, he shot her a grin. “I guess it’s up to you to let me know.”

They reached her car and Matt opened the door for her before rounding and climbing into the driver’s seat.

He closed the door and faced Callie, who was still licking the Popsicle.

Why hadn’t he noticed how hot the image was until now? The tip of her tongue catching the drips. The way she nibbled at the side. How much the vision reminded him of his fantasies during the jerk-off session in the shower that first night. Probably because he’d been too distracted by the sight of her breasts beneath that wet shirt.

Maybe he really was a perv.

He gripped the steering wheel. “Where to now?”

“Home,” she said.

A completely inappropriate surge of adrenaline shot through his body, only to be doused by her next statement.

“I have some things I need to do today for another event coming up in two weeks,” she said. “And I really want to take a shower and wash off all of this sweat. Where do you want to meet tonight to discuss the rest of our plans?”

She twisted in the seat to face him, one long bare calf curling beneath her. The tanned leg looked smooth and he wondered if the skin was as silky as it looked. Heat gathered at the nape of his neck, and the relentless sun through the window lit Callie’s form, making ignoring her impossible.

He cleared his throat. “Preferably somewhere cool.”

Her eyes lit, and that wide grin returned to her pretty face. “I have just the place.”

THREE

Christ, this wasn’t really what he’d had in mind.

The chill seemed to hang in the air of The Frozen South, an ice bar taking up the top floor of The River’s Edge Resort and Casino overlooking downtown New Orleans. The crowd fairly thick, the noise seemed even thicker. Most likely everyone else had the same idea: escape the heat wave outside. And the establishment was the perfect choice.

Ice blocks holding tiny neon lights made up the bar. Ice sofas, ice chairs and ice sculptures were the mainstay of the furniture and the décor. Fortunately, fur rugs lined the seats. Good thing, too. Anyone bold enough to drink too much in this environment might forget to protect their skin and wind up stuck to their chair. Some of the patrons chose to have their drinks served in ice cups. And because the management clearly had a sense of humor, costumers could even keep their cups. Of course, with the hot weather still chugging along outside with a relative heat index nearing one hundred degrees, by the time the club goer arrived home all they’d have is a wet hand that smelled of vodka.