The Winter Wedding

by A. C. Arthur

  “I like your office too. It’s cozy but functional. Those flowers are gorgeous.”

  She looked over to the arrangement that had been delivered last week and cursed.

  “You don’t think the flowers are gorgeous?”

  When she returned her gaze to him she noticed the quizzical look on his face.

  “No. That’s not it at all. I love them and I was supposed to call the florist who sent them as a thank you gift to express my gratitude.” Cheyna couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to do that. She’d put it on her calendar and she never forgot to do things that were on the calendar.

  “You want to call them now?”

  “No.” She shook her head. It wasn’t that big of a deal. She’d make the call tomorrow morning. “Let’s get to work. What do you have here?”

  Cheyna pulled one of the white chairs closer to the table and sat. Logan leaned forward, pointing to the first of a half dozen pictures he’d spread out.

  “These are great. Formal, yet romantic and playful,” she said.

  Cheyna gazed at the photos. “The Duke and Duchess of Sussex. A fairy tale love affair and wedding. Monica and Alex a modern fairy tale featuring an all African American cast.”

  He nodded and continued.

  “These others are celebrity shots of the engagement itself or social media pictures where the engagement was first announced to the world. They all have something in common.”

  Cheyna continued her perusal of each one. She set her pad and pen on the table and began to move them around. She could see exactly what he was moving toward.

  “Simplicity. We focus only on the couple but at the same time capture everything about their world, their life, their union.”

  Logan clapped his hands together. “We’re a great team! You just looked at those pictures and knew where I was going.”

  She nodded. “It’s a good angle. But how does this help your campaign? If we follow this lead we’re falling in love with the couple, not Lakefield Galleries.”

  “But they are Lakefield Galleries. Monica has worked there since she graduated from college. She’s been the driving force behind it’s every step into the new century. She’s behind the expansion and the overall design of each new building. She is Lakefield Galleries.”

  “And Alex?”

  “He’s the family. The joining of two dynamic and affluent African American families in one of the largest cities in America, at the most festive time of the year.”

  “Selling the dream.”

  “In a bright shiny box,” he said with pride.

  Cheyna looked up at him and saw that he was practically beaming. She smiled. She didn’t really know why. He was good at his job. She’d known that before this meeting. And she was good at hers. It was no real wonder that this was coming together so easily for them.

  “You have a great smile.”

  She stopped and cleared her throat.

  “I like these shots here.” She pointed to more shots of Prince Harry and Duchess Meghan.

  “What do you like about them?”

  “See how he looks at her? The photographer did a phenomenal job catching everything except an actual declaration of love. That’s what we want to capture.”

  “Have you ever been in love, Cheyna?”

  “What?” She shook her head and pushed more pictures across the table. “That’s not a relevant question.”

  He picked up the picture that she’d pushed to the side. “I think it’s very relevant. Love is a huge encompassing emotion. It has to be to make such an impact in a photo. If the event planner can attest to having experienced that, she’ll know it when she sees it and make the photos work.”

  “I’m the event planner, not the photographer. Speaking of which, I’ve contracted a very reputable photographer. Someone I’ve worked with several times before. He’ll be able to capture everything we want. Now, if that’s all. I guess we’re done here.”

  She picked up her pad and pen and sat back to jot down some quick notes.

  “I want to kiss you.”

  Cheyna dropped the pen.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want to kiss you. I think I’ve wanted to since the day I saw you dancing around this office. I’ve contemplated about it a time or two over the past few days and I’ve decided that I will.”

  Cheyna took a deep breath. She ignored the jump in her pulse at the sound of him saying the word kiss and her very vivid imagination as her gaze landed directly on his mouth when he’d said it. She was not going to kiss Logan Williams.

  “Despite what you may have decided, I’m not kissing you.”

  There, she’d said it once to herself and once to him. That should make it so.

  “Not tonight,” he said and stood.

  Cheyna watched in confusion as he moved to her desk. He acted as if this were his office as he looked around for something and then gave a triumphant “yes” when he found it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Improvising,” he replied and pointed the remote control toward the sound system on the shelf behind where she currently sat.

  Music came on, an upbeat tune and he pressed buttons until something slower played.

  He dropped the remote and came back around the desk. This time he was dancing. His arms bent as he swayed to the slow beginnings of Diana Ross’s Touch Me In The Morning.

  “Come on, dance with me, Cheyna. Don’t even try to say you can’t because I already know you can.”

  She wasn’t going to say she couldn’t. Well, yes she was, but that meant that she could not get up and dance with a colleague, not that she really could not dance. But now she couldn’t say either.

  “Logan, this is out of line. We’re supposed to be working.”

  “You said we were finished working.”

  He made his way over to her, took her hand and pulled gently until she finally stood.

  “I know you like dancing. It relaxes you. I saw it on your face that night. So I want you to dance with me right now.”

  She started to shake her head, but he used his other hand to take the notepad from her and toss it onto the table.

  “Don’t say no,” he continued, taking her other hand and pulling her close to him.

  The song was at the part where the tempo picked up and Cheyna was surprised that he did not miss a beat. He wrapped his arms around her waist, one hand going up to her mid back and he guided them into steps that matched the rhythm of the song perfectly. Cheyna really couldn’t help it, she went along with his moves and tried not to let herself fall into how perfect they felt.

  “You really shouldn’t be so sure of yourself,” she told him.

  He grinned and moved them into a small circle in the middle of her office.

  “Of course I should be. You want to know why? Because nobody else is going to do it for me.”

  He had a point there.

  “I’m not kissing you,” she stated.

  “No.” He shook his head. “We’re just dancing right now.”

  “Logan—”

  “My mother loves Diana Ross. I think I heard more Diana, Aretha, Gladys and Dionne in my household than any other female singers in any generation.”

  Cheyna shrugged. “She is the boss.”

  “Ha!” He tossed his head back and laughed. “That’s exactly what my mother would have said.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” she told him.

  And he was devilishly handsome. And he smelled great. And he could dance. If she had a list of things she wanted a guy to be, Logan Williams had just hit the top three.

  He held her tight against him as they moved and even though it wasn’t a slow grinding type of dance, there was heat. It had begun to rise the moment he took her hand and was now on a slow simmer as they stood this close.

  “You can admit you want to kiss me too. I won’t judge you.”

  Cheyna wore three-inch heels today. They made her five feet ten inches tall and just about eye-to-eye with Logan.


  “You’re too young for me.”

  That defense had been hanging around in the back of her mind the last few days when thoughts of him had refused to go away.

  “Really? How old are you?”

  “If your mother loves Diana Ross I know she taught you it’s rude to ask a woman’s age.”

  He nodded. “She did, but you brought it up.”

  He had a point there. Dammit.

  “I’m two years older than you.”

  “Okay, so you did your research on me. I think I like that.”

  “I’m serious.”

  He stopped moving, his hands pressing more firmly into her.

  “So am I.” He stared at her as if letting those words sink in. “I’m not in the habit of doubting myself or ignoring what I feel. And yes, we’re working together and I’m two years younger than you are and you could probably come up with a few more excuses, but none of them negate the fact that I’m attracted to you, Cheyna.”

  She let her hands fall from his shoulders where they’d been comfortably resting. “Fine. You’re an adult and you’re perfectly within your rights in stating what you want or how you believe you feel. But so am I.”

  “And how do you feel, Cheyna?”

  He seemed to ignore the fact that she’d stopped touching him and pressed his body closer to hers.

  “How do you feel when I do this?”

  He pulled her up against him until she could feel the slight bulge in his pants. When she remained totally still and silent, he leaned in and whispered against her ear. “Or this?”

  His tongue touched her earlobe and she trembled. She couldn’t help it. Her ears were a sensitive spot.

  He grinned.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I’m not doing this.”

  “Not tonight,” he whispered before pulling away from her. “And that’s okay. But don’t insult me or yourself by denying what’s going on here.”

  He moved away from her and went to the table and began packing up his pictures. Cheyna did not move, but was still trying to gather herself. She wasn’t easily frazzled. And if this were any other situation, if he were working on some other campaign or she on another wedding, she would be all over him at this very moment. But that wasn’t the situation.

  “I’ll see you on Sunday, Cheyna.”

  She heard him speak from behind her. Professionalism had her turning to face him.

  “Yes. At seven a.m. on Sunday.”

  “Dream about me tonight,” he said and winked at her.

  His words and that action were so ridiculous considering the circumstances that she couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

  “I really like when you smile,” he told her and walked out of her office.

  Cheyna moved across the room as she heard him close the front door behind him and fell back onto the couch where he’d sat a while ago.

  “There are so many things I like about you Logan Williams. Too many things.”

  Chapter 6

  Lakefield Galleries was the perfect backdrop with its crisp, clean lines of white walls and white marble floors, glass doors and every medium of art imaginable. Four floors of this building were occupied with phenomenal art by artists from all over the world. But Logan was most flattered by the representation of African American artists throughout every area of the gallery.

  Pictures of the Lakefield family—father, mother and three daughters—as well as with their extended family had been framed close to several notable exhibits, including one by famed sculptor Lorenzo “Renny” Bennett. Monica and her sisters had been photographed in front of a portrait of the Obama family by Eva Romaine, Alex’s sister-in-law.

  Logan stood with his chest bursting with pride at how he envisioned this campaign turning out.

  “It’s my turn!”

  “Girls don’t get a turn.”

  Logan spun around just in time to see Sophia Donovan, Max and Deena’s six year-old daughter push Elijah Desdune, Sam and Karena’s five year-old son. Eli tumbled forward, the blue ball bouncing out of his hand seconds before his body connected with the floor. Logan ignored the ball and stepped forward to help him up. While he did, Sophia skirted around them and snatched the ball before it could tumble down the stairs. She turned back to them with a triumphant smile.

  “I hate girls,” Eli said with a frown.

  Logan brushed the front of the boy’s white shirt and then straightened the navy blue bow tie he wore.

  “That’ll change,” Logan told him.

  Eli shook his head. “No it won’t. My sister cries all the time.”

  Logan grinned. Eli’s sister was Ella and she was only fifteen months old, so a bit of crying was probably still a thing for her.

  “She’ll grow out of that. And then she’ll be taking the ball from you too.”

  Logan laughed.

  “That’s not funny,” Eli said, still frowning.

  Sophia, who wore a dark pink dress and matching bows in her hair was now dribbling the ball as if she saw a basketball hoop nearby.

  “Are you on babysitting duty now?”

  Logan had been kneeling down while talking to Eli so when he heard an adult voice he looked up to see Karena.

  “More like stopping a mini-battle from taking place,” he said and stood.

  Karena shook her head and ran a hand over her son’s low cut dark curls. “Oh no. Were he and Sophia at it again? I think they miss each other so much when they’re apart that when they get together they can’t figure out how to get along.”

  “Boys and girls have been battling since the beginning of time. Distance has nothing to do with that,” Logan told her.

  “I guess you’re right about that. I think you were also right about bringing us all together for this photo shoot. My dad told me it was your idea.”

  Logan tried not to gloat. “I’m just glad everybody was able to come at such short notice.”

  Karena waved a hand. “Chalk that up to the Donovan jet and Monica finally setting a date. We’re all just so excited that this wedding is finally taking place that we wouldn’t miss any part of the preparations. Besides, we’re going to shop for bridesmaid dresses tomorrow.”

  “Great.”

  “I don’t want to shop for dresses,” Eli whined.

  “Why don’t you go find your dad, Eli,” Karena told her son.

  He happily skipped away and Logan shook his head because he could remember days in church when he couldn’t wait to get away from his mother and whoever she was talking to after service. He used to move with that same exuberance that Eli just displayed.

  “I wanted to thank you also, Logan.”

  He looked to Karena in question. “Thank me for what?”

  “For taking this job. In the past few years my father’s been working harder at relating to his daughters and being an active part of our lives. This rebranding and making the galleries more about the family was my mother’s idea, but he’s really gotten into it. I’m guessing that’s because he feels so confident in your ability to make it happen.”

  Well, Logan hadn’t known there was so much more behind this job. If he were the type to cower under pressure he might be feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment.

  “It was a great idea. I’m just happy that he’s trusting me to see it through to fruition. You have a beautiful family.” And that was no exaggeration.

  In addition to the Lakefield sisters, their spouses and children, Alex Bennett’s family had shown up as well. Each of the Bennett siblings, their spouses and or significant others were here for the pictures, as well as the most adorable set of triplets Logan had ever seen. Well, to be fair they were the first set of triplets he’d ever seen, still, Bree and Renny Bennett’s two daughters and son were adorable.

  Logan hadn’t realized how much he actually liked kids until he’d watched them all running around the upper level of the gallery for the past two hours. It made him think of Cassie and the baby she carried. He’d called her l
ast night just to talk and she’d seemed fine, but still had not offered the name of the baby’s father. Perry and Steph wanted Logan to use his closer relationship with Cassie to force her to not only reveal the father’s name, but to also tell them where he was and if he planned to be a part of the baby’s life. Logan was betting the answer to the latter was a resounding no, but he was giving Cassie space to reveal that to them.

  The photographer, Boyd Stubbing, who was actually pretty well known in the area and across the world as Logan had found after a quick Google search, made a last call. He wanted to get the entire group together with Paul and Noreen Lakefield and Marvin and Beatriz Bennett. It was going to be a huge endeavor so Logan joined in the foray and tried to help as much as he could.

  Cheyna and her staff were also there. While Cheyna had stayed close to Boyd throughout the shoot making sure he got every shot she requested, Evan and Sarah kept everyone else in close range. They made coffee runs, held the babies, assisted with hair and make-up and whatever else Cheyna requested of them. A well-oiled machine was what they were, just as he’d told her the other night at her office.

  Logan had been trying not to think about that night. Recalling the feel of her in his arms had kept him up more hours than he cared to admit. He wasn’t trying to let it interfere with their work today. Besides, it was almost over.

  The last shot was the money maker. Logan could already see a slogan running beneath a glossy print of the photo: “When you visit the Lakefield Galleries, you’re coming home to family.” He loved the concept and as everyone broke away and began putting on coats and heading for the door, Logan pulled out his phone and started to type in notes he wanted to make sure he remembered when he went into the office later today. He usually went to the gym and spent some time with Jack on Sundays, but today he was brimming with ideas and energy to work on this campaign.

  Logan became so engrossed in getting the ideas into the notes app on his phone that he didn’t realize almost all of the people in the foyer area of the gallery had cleared out. When he finished and turned around it was to see Cheyna across the room talking to Boyd as he packed the rest of his stuff. Without another thought he started toward them, ready to offer to help Boyd get his stuff to his car. He stopped when he could hear parts of their conversation.