by Elle James
“Good,” Kalea said. “I don’t want sloppy seconds on my honeymoon,” she said with a wink.
“I did not realize you also planned the bachelor party.” Sylvia said with a heavy Spanish accent. “Is this necessary?”
“If you want to make sure your man stays out of trouble, I suggest you let me do this. I hire the venue and the support personnel and give them strict instructions. If you leave it up to the men, they might end up in a sleazy dive bar, in a fight, mugged or…murdered.”
Sylvia’s eyes widened. “I do not want that. My fiancé is a very important man. He could easily be targeted.”
Casey shrugged. “That’s why you let me handle it. I can hire security for the event as well.”
Sylvia nodded. “I like.”
Kalea frowned. “Should we have hired security for McP’s?”
Casey smiled. “I did. There will be a couple of off-duty police officers standing guard at the front and rear entrances. They’re looking out for trouble, although I don’t anticipate any. Most people don’t mess with Navy SEALs. They’re lethal weapons in and of themselves.”
Kalea nodded. “True. But drunk, they might not be as effective at taking care of themselves.”
“A point I’m aware of. The off-duty policemen will also drive the guys to their hotel if they’re too drunk to call for a cab.”
Kalea crossed her arms over her chest. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”
“I do my best,” Casey said.
“You’d do well to hire my friend,” Kalea told Sylvia. “She’s got this wedding planning down to a science. I didn’t have to do anything but get fitted for the dress. Casey handled everything from the flowers, photographer, music, venue and everything else.”
Sylvia nodded. “Muy bien.”
“But don’t make up your mind until after the wedding,” Casey said. “By then, you’ll have the whole picture of what I do.”
Again, Sylvia nodded toward Kalea. “Thank you for allowing me to attend.”
“The more the merrier,” Kalea said with a smile. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I could stand a glass of wine and to kick my feet up.”
“I have some loose ends to attend to here and at the wedding venue,” Casey said. “I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early.”
Kalea hugged Casey. “You get some rest. You’ve been working hard to make this happen.”
Casey hugged her back. “I can rest after the wedding. Now, go. You have to get some beauty sleep. Tomorrow’s spa day and rehearsal. Saturday’s the big day. I have everything set up. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Thank you, Casey,” Kalea said. “I wouldn’t have done this without you. We would’ve gone before a JP and called it done.”
Casey shook her head. “Oh, sweetie, this is supposed to be the happiest day of your life. It should be magical. A day you’ll never forget.”
“All in a good way, I hope.” Kalea said with a grin.
“Only the best,” Casey assured her.
Her friend slid into her rented car. “Tomorrow.”
Sylvia held out her hand. “I will see you tomorrow as well. I look forward to being at the wedding.”
“And I look forward to making your special day perfect.” Casey shook Sylvia’s hand, walked her to her Lamborghini and held the door for her. “Thank you for coming this evening.”
As Sylvia drove away, a delivery truck arrived. She smiled. The cake had arrived. She glanced down at her watch. “Right on time.” A frown puckered her forehead. Where was the dancer?
At that exact moment, her cellphone vibrated on her clipboard. She answered the call and put it on speaker. “Casey, here.”
“Ms. Wesson,” a female voice said and then a cough came across, blasting Casey’s eardrums. “This is Bambi, I can’t make it tonight. I’m sick.”
Casey drew a deep breath. Relax. It’s just a hiccup. “What happened to your stand-in? I asked you to provide a backup in case you couldn’t make it.”
“Candy’s sick too. Same crud.” Bambi coughed again. “I’d come, but I don’t want to get the guys sick.”
“No, of course you can’t come. But is there anyone else you can send?”
“I’m sorry, but everyone else is working other jobs. I could get someone tomorrow night, but not tonight.”
“Tomorrow is too late,” Casey said, her mind already spinning with alternatives, none of which were viable at this late hour. “I need someone tonight.”
“I’m really sorry, Miss Wesson.” Bambi coughed a wet, awful sound. “I hate to disappoint you.”
“Get some rest. I’ll figure out something.” Casey ended the call and watched as two men unloaded the cake Bambi was supposed to jump out of. She started toward the truck. “Don’t unload it,” she called out. “The cake needs to go back to the rental company.”
“Sorry, lady, we were only paid to deliver it. Someone else is scheduled to pick it up in the morning,” the biggest guy said.
“But I can’t use it. I don’t have a stripper to go inside.”
“Can’t help you there,” the other guy said. “You’ll have to take it up with the party rental company in the morning.”
The big guy paused long enough to look at her, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe. “Or you can jump out of the cake yourself. You’ve got the goods, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“I do mind you saying,” she grumbled. “Fine, leave it at the back door.”
“The cake’s door in and out gets stuck a little. You have to give it a good shove to open it from the inside. Or so the party store owner said.”
Casey stared at the monstrous papier mâché cake. What the hell was she going to do with it? Without the stripper, it was useless. The men would be disappointed. She’d made the mistake of letting it slip that they would get a stripper. The perfect bachelor party would be ruined. Her client would know that her planning was fallible and lose confidence in her. Snagging Sylvia Rodriguez as a client, was a huge chance to make it big as a wedding planner in the wealthiest San Diego circles. And it all hinged on this party and this wedding.
Casey had brought the CD with the song selection, the costume of little white go-go boots, white strip-away shorts, white thong, white shirt and a white bra with a long blond wig to be topped with a white Navy hat. The stripper was supposed to jump out of the cake, dance around the men and collect all the tips they wanted to give. She’d be done after three songs. Three songs, nine minutes, tops. Nine minutes that could ruin the entire event if they didn’t happen.
Casey stood in the parking lot, staring at her SUV, scrambling for a plan. Any plan to pull her out of this disaster.
A purple car pulled up with mag wheels and a pair of hot pink fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror. A dark-haired woman climbed out, wearing a dress that was too short and tight, high heels tall enough to risk her life and makeup enough to cover her original identity.
For a brief moment, Casey considered asking the woman if she would consider donning the outfit and dancing for the men. One glance at the woman’s bosom made her rethink the request. The costume wouldn’t cover all that, and the woman would think she’d gone batshit crazy.
Not that anyone would recognize her in the blond wig and heavy makeup…
Who said it had to be someone else? She didn’t know that woman, or what she’d do in the costume. Who was the only person she could trust to play nice and not get the guys into trouble? Whenever someone working for her didn’t show, who filled in the gaps?
Casey’s heartbeat fluttered against her ribs. Could she do it? Could she put on the wig, layer on enough makeup to hide her true self and jump out of a cake?
The plan hatched and formed, tumbling through her mind with the logistics of what it would take to fill the gap of a missing stripper. How hard could it be? All she had to do was jump out of a cake, dance for nine minutes and get the hell out of McP’s before anyone recognized her beneath the wig and warpaint.
&nbs
p; Before she could let logic remind her that she was a terrible dancer and the costume was miniscule when she had to tear away the shorts to expose the G-string thong, she dove into the back of her SUV, grabbed the bag with the costume, her expansive makeup kit and followed the moving men and the papier mâché cake to the rear entrance of McP’s.
They had the cake; she might as well give the guys what they came for. Why not?
All she needed was a good stripper name.
Chapter 2
“Hey, is this a bachelor party or what?” Pretty Boy called out.
“What do you mean?” Jacob asked. “Of course, it is. We have beer and a groom. He’s still a bachelor, what more do we need?”
“Strippers!” Ringer called out.
“That’s right,” Tuck said. “Where are the strippers?”
“I promised the bride we’d keep it clean,” Hawk said.
“And I promised the bride we’d keep the groom out of trouble,” Jacob reinforced.
Pretty Boy blinked. “Seriously? You can’t have a bachelor party without strippers.”
“I only came because I heard there’d be strippers.” C-Note crossed his arms over his chest. “If there aren’t going to be any women, I might as well go find some fun for myself.”
“Hey, C-Note,” Hawk raised his mug, “speaking of fun…I hear you’re going to Vegas.”
C-Note, nodded. “Damn straight. Heading out after the wedding. I’m leaving this motley crew of miscreants to the younger studs, while I live it up.”
“We’re going to miss the old man,” Cowboy said.
“That’s right.” Pretty Boy grinned. “Who’ll keep us straight?”
C-Note snorted. “It sure as hell hasn’t been me.”
Jacob was glad attention had been diverted from the lack of female entertainment. He was fine without that kind of distraction. Strippers could make his job as the best man even harder. Keeping these guys out of trouble would be an impossible task with alcohol involved. Add women to the mix, and it would make protecting the groom even more of a chore.
Tuck elbowed Trigger in the gut. “I hear you got a sweet deal down in New Orleans.”
Trigger nodded. “My terminal leave started today. I’m going to work for a security firm, where I get to carry a gun.” His chest puffed out and a grin slipped across his face. “Headed there after the wedding. Life’s good. What about you, Ringer? Hear anything from the medical review board?”
Ringer frowned and set his mug on the table. “Not yet.”
Pretty Boy clapped Ringer on his back. “Got our fingers crossed for you, dude. Already lost Hawk. Trigger is bailing on us. Can’t afford to lose another.”
“Maybe it’s time I started looking for a backup plan,” Ringer said. “Don’t know too many who go before a medical review board and stay on active duty.”
Jacob’s lips pressed together. “Hate to say it, but you have a point. Wouldn’t hurt to have that backup plan.”
“Good luck finding a job as good as this one,” Viking said. The big, blond-haired man stretched his long arms above his head.
Cowboy grinned. “Yeah, where else can you play with guns and shoot people without someone judging you or wanting to throw you in jail?”
“Guess I’ll find out, while you losers are still hoofing it out on ops,” Ringer said.
“What about you, C-Note? Aren’t you retiring soon? Do you have a plan?” Jacob asked.
He shrugged. “Shut the hell up. I’m not that old. I have a few more good years left in me.” He downed the last of the beer in his mug and reached for the pitcher. “Vegas is just for the weekend.”
Pretty Boy laughed. “For whoring and gambling?”
C-Note filled his mug and lifted it in salute. “Whatever.”
“You should find a woman and get married,” Hawk said. He grinned and patted his chest. “Like me.”
“Not in this lifetime, pal.” C-Note snorted. “I refuse to be pussy-whipped and trade freedom for sex once a month…if she’s in the mood.”
“It’s not all about sex,” Hawk said.
C-Note’s lips twisted. “Ain’t that the truth?”
“What about friendship and love?” Hawk asked.
Jacob shook his head. “A dog can serve the purpose and cost a lot less in the long run.” He tipped his head toward C-Note. “Don’t listen to Hawk. He’s already well on his way to being pussy-whipped. Go to Vegas and have fun. Worry about your future after you’ve blown off some steam. You’ve earned a little downtime.”
“Thanks, Rooster.” C-Note grinned. “I knew you’d understand.”
The men poured more beer and reminisced as much as they could without violating gag orders on their top-secret missions. They talked about some of the tight situations they’d found their way out of both on operations and during their off time.
Several pitchers of beer into the party, Hawk stiffened and clamped a hand on Jacob’s arm. “Damn.”
“What?” Instantly on alert, Jacob set aside the one mug of beer he’d been nursing since he’d arrived. “What’s wrong?”
Hawk shook his head. “I can’t believe it. It’s been a couple of months since I’ve been at McP’s. How did she know I’d be here tonight?” Hawk scooted his chair backward, placing himself behind Jacob. “There. By the door. It’s Camila…the crazy stalker.”
Jacob followed the direction of Hawk’s pointed finger.
A beautiful woman with dark hair and brown eyes, wearing a short, tight dress and impossibly high heels was heading for the bar. She leaned over the counter, exposing a vast amount of cleavage Jacob could see from yards away. After a few words with the bartender, she turned her attention to the party on the patio.
“Shit.” Hawk ducked his head behind Jacob. “She’s headed this way.”
Jacob rose as the woman made a beeline for the group on the patio. “Viking, block our groom. We’ve got incoming.”
Viking’s head spun toward the entrance and the woman headed their way. “Have the strippers arrived?” He grinned and scooted his chair in front of Hawk. “She can give me a lap dance anytime. I haven’t got a woman keeping tabs on me.”
“She’s not the stripper,” Jacob said. “She’s the enemy and must be neutralized.” His lips twitched at his own joke.
“You aren’t going to shoot her, are you?” Cowboy asked, his words slurred. “Hell, we’re not in Iraq.”
Jacob shook his head. “No, but I’m going to head her off at the pass.” He nodded toward the bartender.
Based on the signal Jacob had set up with him an hour earlier, the bartender left his duty station and ducked out the front door, going for the off-duty police officer.
All he had to do was keep her away from Hawk until the cop arrived to escort her from the building. As she stepped out onto the patio, Jacob ducked in front of her. “Can I help you?”
She tried to look over his shoulder toward the group of Navy SEALs now gathered in front of Hawk, effectively blocking him from sight. “I’m looking for Jace Hawkins, my boyfriend. I understand he’s here tonight.” She tried to move around him.
Jacob sidestepped, again, standing in her path. “This is a private party. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”
She lifted her chin and stared at him down her nose. “This is a public bar. I have just as much right to be here as you. Now, move aside.”
Jacob crossed his arms over his chest. “No can do. You’ll need to leave.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not leaving until I see my boyfriend. He’s scheduled to marry another woman Saturday. I’ve come to tell him he doesn’t have to. She’s not the one for him.” She leaned up on her toes. “Do you hear me, Hawk? That bitch isn’t the one for you. You and I…we’re made for each other.”
Hawk pushed to his feet and stood over the heads of the men sitting in front of him. “Camila, I told you more than once, you’re not my girlfriend. We’re not together.”
“But we made love,” she said. “Surely, t
hat means something.”
He shook his head. “It means I made a mistake,” he said. “I don’t love you. I’ll never marry you. I love my fiancée, and I’m marrying her Saturday. Please, you deserve to find someone who loves you and wants to be with you.” He lifted his hands palms upward. “That’s not me.”
Her brows furrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “She has you bewitched. You and I are one. We belong together. I can’t let you go through with this wedding. You don’t belong to her. You’re mine.”
The cop showed up in his uniform. “Ma’am, you’ll have to leave the premises.”
“I’m not leaving without my man.” She scowled at the policeman and Jacob blocking her path.
Before he could guess what she’d do next, she punched Jacob in the gut and faked to the left.
Stunned, Jacob froze for a second, and then moved left to keep her from getting past him.
Camila changed directions surprisingly fast for a woman in platform heels and dove to the right, making it past Jacob and across the floor toward Hawk.
Jacob caught up with her and grabbed one of her arms. The policeman grabbed the other, and they brought her to a halt before she could get her sharp-tipped fingernails into Hawk.
“Let go of me,” she yelled. “You have no right to stop me.”
“I could haul you into the police station and have you explain why you attacked this man,” the police officer said.
Jacob rubbed his belly. The woman had a hard punch, but he hadn’t been seriously harmed. Still, she didn’t have to know that. If he needed to press charges to keep her from going after Hawk, so be it. He had two jobs…keeping Hawk safe through the bachelor party and getting him to the church on time. If he had to take a punch for the team, so be it.