The Fearless Groom (Texas Titan Romances)

by Cami Checketts

  When Silver got the opportunity to plan this event, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven, hardly believing something like this could fall in her lap. Then she almost cried when she discovered which football players were participating in the auction. Fate certainly had a sense of humor. Here she was, planning an event where Ace Sanchez would be one of the main participants. She could only hope she could avoid him. An unbidden image of Ace flashed through her mind, and she saw his black, soulful eyes and lopsided grin. Her heart picked up a notch as she balled her fists. She shook her head, brushing aside all thoughts of Ace. Whatever was between them ended a lifetime ago. They were living separate lives in separate universes. She had to remain focused on the task at hand. Her business depended on it. Silver tried to think of a solution that would appease the photographer. The wretched man had her over a barrel, and he knew it. She’d have to pay the bozo extra to keep him tonight, but she certainly didn’t have to use him again. Her eyes narrowed as she straightened her shoulders. “I’ll go talk to him.”

  Marla nodded. “I’m afraid there’s more.”

  Silver tensed. “What else?”

  “America Starr has been causing a ruckus, refusing to eat the food laid out by guest services. The poor caterer is at her wits’ end.”

  An incredulous laugh bubbled in Silver’s throat. “Well, what does the caterer expect? Everyone knows America’s reputation. Furthermore, she’s not the first celebrity to make waves at an event. It goes with the territory. As a professional, the caterer should be used to celebrities making unreasonable demands.”

  “America threw the entire tray of food out in the hall where it splattered all over her body guards.”

  Silver’s eyes bulged. “What?” A world-renowned pop singer, America, was one of the emcees for the event. She was notorious for being difficult, but her fame provided the gala lots of publicity. So, the organizers of the event turned a blind eye to America’s antics. On camera or in front of a crowd America was gold; but in real life, she was a spoiled, teenage brat. America pitched a royal fit because she was picked up from the airport in a regular rental car rather than a limousine. She flat-out refused to ride in the rental car. Instead, she sat on the curb at the airport with her luggage piled in mountains around her until a limousine was called. Also, her two-thousand-dollar a night suite in an award-winning, five-star-hotel was in her words, “too stuffy.”

  Silver rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Tell the caterer to give America whatever she wants, even if it costs extra. We have to keep her happy.”

  Marla nodded.

  “Anything else?”

  Marla seemed to duck slightly under Silver’s piercing gaze. “The sound system’s still cutting out. The techs are working on it and assure me it’ll be fixed in time for the auction.” She paused, shaking her head. “But, I dunno.”

  Tiny beads of sweat popped over Silver’s forehead. She’d barely gotten a wink of sleep the night before, fretting over details of the event, and it was starting to catch up to her. “Okay, thanks for letting me know. There’s nothing we can do about that now, just hope and pray they get it fixed in time. How’s the ballroom? Is everything set for the banquet?”

  “Exquisite.” Marla’s face brightened. “You should definitely use this florist again. The arrangements are the best I’ve ever seen. I love the contrast of the red tulips against the periwinkle hyacinths.”

  Silver relaxed a fraction. “Good.” At least one thing was going right. Bliss Events was up and coming, but this was her business’s first time doing an event of this caliber … at Rosecrest Mansion, to boot. Once a residential mansion, Rosecrest was transformed into a world-class, luxury hotel that was a favorite gathering place for the Dallas social scene. Silver had a deep appreciation for the venerable mansion with its Spanish Colonial Revival Architecture that boasted a buttery vanilla stucco exterior, clay roof tiles and arched windows and doors. Silver always wanted to do an event here. If she pulled this off, it would bode well for her business. A few more hours, and it would all be over. She just had to hold her cool … and avoid Ace Sanchez at all costs.

  Silver had just finished up with the photographer when her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket. It was a number she didn’t recognize. Figuring it to be someone calling about the event, she answered. “Hello?”

  “Hello, this is Ruth Fielding from The Wexton Academy.”

  Silver’s pulse increased as her hand went to her chest. “Yes?”

  “I apologize for calling you after business hours, but I thought you’d like to know that your daughter Gracie has been accepted into our program.”

  Tears sprang to Silver’s eyes. “That’s fantastic!”

  “We have you scheduled for an appointment next Tuesday at nine a.m. This meeting is for you and Gracie. It’ll be a great opportunity for both of you to meet her teachers and get acquainted with our school. I’ll send you an email with the pertinent details and a list of resources accessible to Gracie. Let me check to make sure I have your correct email address.” Silver heard papers rustling in the background before the woman rattled off the address.

  “Yes, that’s it.” Her head was spinning. Gracie would be attending The Wexton Academy! It was like she had to keep repeating it, for the information to sink in.

  “Very good,” the woman said briskly. “We’ll look forward to seeing you and Gracie on Tuesday, June 3. Have a good rest of the evening.”

  “Thank you.” Silver ended the call, her heart soaring. The Wexton Academy was one of the top private schools in the nation for Down syndrome children, helping them assimilate into a mainstream educational environment, but they were very selective about the students they accepted. Their waiting list was years long. Gracie was now five years old, and Silver had put her name on the waiting list a few months before she was even born. Gracie’s acceptance into the program was nothing short of a miracle—one Silver had prayed for too many times to count. The school was ghastly expensive. As a single mom trying to get a business off the ground, Silver had no idea how she was going to pay for it or fit the two-hour-commute into her schedule each day. But she was determined to make it work—even if she had to take on extra events and get up at four in the morning. She offered a silent prayer of gratitude for the blessing, and then asked that the event would run smoothly. She took in a deep breath and smoothed down her black evening dress, ignoring the intermittent flashes of pain in her feet caused by her skyscraper heels. She’d worn her tennis shoes for as long as she could, but put on the heels an hour ago. With her feet already hurting, it was sure to be a long night. She sighed, straightening her shoulders as she sucked in her stomach. No matter how stressed she was on the inside, she had to remain unruffled on the outside—look the part of the successful event planner. A large part of her job was mingling with the guests to ensure everyone was happy. Even though her budget was slimmer than a runway model, she’d splurged on one nice dress to wear to such occasions. It was simple but elegant, and she’d dressed it up with dangling, teardrop, faux-diamond earrings. Marla and two other employees would handle the behind-the-scenes details, keeping in close contact with her to make sure everything ran smoothly.

  As Silver stepped into the ballroom, her breath hitched as she took in the spectacular display. Marla was right, the florist was exceptionally good. Large arrangements were spotted in strategic areas so the pops of color would have the greatest impact. Her gaze went to the white, linen tablecloths and pristine table settings reflecting light from the enormous chandeliers overhead. Soft classical music played in the background. There was a sense of breathless anticipation in the air, and yet, everything was perfect and untouched. This was the pay-off in Silver’s profession—that moment of realizing that, despite the craziness and stress, she was doing what she loved. And her business was growing. This event could open doors for her, get her into more high-society events. She’d learned that the work was the same whether she booked clients with tight budgets or deep pockets, so s
he made a practice of going for the gusto. A quiver of excitement tingled through her, she felt she was on the cusp of something great. Gracie got into The Wexton Academy, and Silver planned the event of her dreams. It was a rocky road getting here, but her persistence and hard work was finally paying off. For one blip of a moment, her heart felt light enough to fly.

  Marla and Angie stood near the stage, their backs to her. Silver was almost to them when she caught a tidbit of what they were saying. Her good mood was snuffed out faster than a candle flame in a blizzard.

  “Whatever you do, don’t tell Silver that Ace Sanchez came looking for her,” Marla said. “Her intestines are liable to explode.”

  Angie snorted out a deviant giggle. “He’s a hottie, that’s for sure. What’s their history?”

  Silver probably should’ve said something then and there, but her tongue was lead in her mouth. Ace came looking for me? Why? The fierce longing welling in her chest came as a shock. Her mind whirled as she tried to make sense of her reaction.

  “They were best friends in high school, but didn’t actually date,” Marla responded, a note of authority in her voice like she had the inside track into Silver’s life. “Silver dated Riley Coulter the school’s quarterback, eventually married him and had a kid.”

  Angie’s voice grew incredulous. “That’s Silver’s ex-husband? The builder, whose billboards are plastered all over town?”

  “Yep,” Marla said sourly. “The jerk barely pays a cent of child support, even though he’s rich. Ace went off to college, UCLA I believe, then got drafted in the NFL.”

  “Do Silver and Ace keep in touch?” Angie said.

  “No, Silver swears she wants nothing to do with him.” She chuckled. “But if you ask me, she’s still carrying a torch for him.”

  “Yeah, who wouldn’t be?” Angie said. “I mean, look at him, and he’s a football star,” she said dreamily.

  “Something happened between Ace and Silver, but whatever it was, she doesn’t talk about it … not even with me.”

  It was at this moment that Silver had enough. She balled her fists, her voice crackling with indignation. “I beg your pardon.”

  Marla and Angie jerked around, their faces draining.

  Silver straightened to her full height, eyeing them. “I’ll have you know that I’m not carrying for a torch for Ace Sanchez,” she spat, honing in on Marla. “And I resent you saying that I am.”

  Marla’s eyes rounded as she drew back. “I—I’m sorry,” she sputtered.

  “In the future, you don’t need to hold anything back from me, you understand?”

  She nodded. “Um—” Marla began, but Silver wasn’t finished. She was on a roll and determined to get it all out … once and for all.

  Silver’s hands went to her hips. “If Ace comes looking for me, you tell him I’ll be happy to meet him any place … any time.”

  “But,” Marla interrupted.

  “Oh, no, I’m not finished yet. Better yet, the next time I see Ace Sanchez, I’ll tell him that myself.” She wagged a finger, her tone going sharp. “In fact, I’ll tell him when to stand up, when to sit down, and if he can go to the bathroom. You got that?”

  “Yep, got it. Crystal clear,” a male voice said from behind.

  Silver froze, the realization of what was happening hitting her like a Mack Truck. Somehow, she managed to find her voice. “Ace is behind me, isn’t he?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Marla said, forcing a smile through tight lips.

  Silver turned to face him, her knees going wobbly. She looked into his dark eyes that held a glitter of amusement. For all her bravado, “Hey,” was all she could think to say. Dang it! He looked good. Better than she remembered.

  His gaze flickered over her, igniting a slow burn in her stomach. “Silver Bliss,” he drawled in his slightly husky voice she knew so well. “My favorite wedita.” His Latino accent was still sexy as ever, not that it mattered. She and Ace Sanchez were history. “Long time no see. How’ve you been?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the confusion on Angie’s face when she heard Ace call her wedita. The direct translation was white girl, but it had always been Ace’s nickname for her—a term of endearment, he once told her. No doubt he called her that now to get a rise out of her. Not to mention he’d used her maiden name Bliss rather than her married name. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m doing okay,” she mumbled, her eyes seeming to have a mind of their own as they traced the faint line of stubble along his jaw and upper lip. How well she knew that rugged face—the dot of a mole on his right cheek, his defined chin that drew her attention to his sensual lips. Her gaze trailed down the lines of his strong jaw to his prominent Adam’s apple, then back up to his lips. It was crazy, but even after all these years she still remembered the feel of his lips on hers. Heat crawled up her neck, and her throat went drier than a tub of cotton balls as she gulped a swallow. His normally unruly curls were polished back for the occasion, giving him a suave, sophisticated look. He fit the bill of the eligible bachelor to a T in his black tuxedo that picked up the color of his midnight hair.

  Ace looked her up and down. “You certainly look the part of Silver Bliss.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured lowering her eyes, her lashes sweeping against her cheekbones. When they were in junior high, a substitute teacher was calling roll and pointed out that Silver Bliss was an unusual combination for a first and last name. “It sounds more like a winter wonderland scene than a name,” the teacher said. Ace heard the man and teased Silver mercilessly the entire year. It’s funny how that one comment jolted her back to the past, unearthing a trove of memories. She should be chewing Ace out right now, hurling the list of accusations she’d compiled against him over the years. Instead, she was standing here trying to figure out something halfway decent to say.

  “So, you’re the one who put all of this together,” Ace said, a touch of admiration in his voice as he gestured at their surroundings.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Yes,” she said proudly, halfway expecting him to follow up his observation with a snarky comment.

  “Impressive,” he murmured.

  She drew back, surprised, feeling guilty for what she’d said about him earlier. Not guilty enough to retract the comment, but slightly guilty nonetheless. “You seem to be making quite a name for yourself on the football scene. Congratulations.” Even as the words left her mouth, she realized that she meant it. Regardless of what happened between her and Ace in the past, he deserved to be happy.

  “Thanks. Congratulations to you too.”

  She tipped her head. “For what?” she said carefully. Did he realize she was divorced? She hadn’t seen Ace since the day of her wedding to Riley, when they’d parted on hostile terms.

  “Your business,” he countered smoothly, but she could tell from the look in his eyes that he guessed what she’d been thinking. “How’s your little girl?”

  “Gracie. She’s doing great. A handful.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Gracie’s acceptance into The Wexton Academy, but that would be stupid. Ace was only being polite. He had no genuine concern for her daughter—Riley’s daughter. She doubted that Ace even knew Gracie had Down syndrome.

  He gave her a genuine smile, which shot an unexpected dart of warmth into her chest. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  For a split second, Silver could almost forget the bad blood between them and view Ace as her best friend, who’d turned into something infinitely more complicated. How had they ended up here? Two strangers, trying their best to make a semblance of polite conversation in an impersonal room.

  “How’s Riley?”

  And there it was, the one topic that had always come between them. She folded her arms over her chest, eyes hardening. “Okay, I guess. I don’t see him much now that we’re divorced.” She studied Ace, waiting for a reaction, but his face remained unreadable as he nodded.

  Silence grew thick between them until Marla spoke.
“I’m a big fan,” she said, her voice too cheerful as she stepped up and clasped Ace’s hand in a firm shake.

  Silver breathed a sigh of relief. That one act was enough to get Marla out of the doghouse for blabbing her business to Angie.

  Marla looked Ace up and down with open admiration. “So, you’re getting auctioned off tonight.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “I’m sure you’ll fetch a pretty penny.”

  Silver couldn’t help but laugh at Ace’s startled reaction and the way his face turned a deep red. Ace had never cared for the limelight. She’d wondered how he was faring now that he was a superstar running back.

  He shrugged. “It’s for charity.”

  Marla wriggled her eyebrows. “Yes, indeed. Too bad I don’t have enough money to bid on you,” she purred, nudging him with her elbow. “How about it, big shot? Wanna run away with me after this shindig’s over?” She winked at Silver.

  Silver chuckled inwardly as Ace cleared his throat. Marla was such a tease. She loved putting Ace, and everyone else, on the hot seat. Divorced, with a couple of kids, Marla was a good ten years older than she and Ace. She tried to act all tough on the outside, but had a heart of gold—and a steady boyfriend, they were practically engaged. Marla didn’t want to go out with Ace any more than a goose. She just liked watching him squirm. It was kind of fun, Silver admitted. A taunting smile tugged at her lips as she cut her eyes at Ace. “I suppose Angie and I could cover for Marla while you two make your big escape.”