In unison, Ali and I both say, “No.”
Sighing, Phil follows Ali and sits in one of the chairs across from my desk. I join them, crossing my legs and folding my hands over my stomach as I lean back. “Okay, out with it. Why have you been a douche this morning? More so than normal? We have our first appointment coming in”—I check the clock—“in seventeen minutes. Out with it, and do it quickly.”
“So, about that first appointment,” Phil starts. I slowly uncross my legs and sit forward.
“Yes?”
“There’s something you should know.”
I’m going to throttle my brother. After all our years of working together, if he left out telling me any minute detail about this appointment, I’m going to lose it.
Knowing Phil, this could be anything from the appointment was supposed to be at the Lockwood company headquarters in Manhattan or their family compound in Greenwich. If Phil suddenly springs on me that he forgot to tell me the client’s expecting to have a champagne catered breakfast ready, I’m going to give up on keeping my legendary control, take my scissors and straddle him while I cut off all his hair in massive chunks. He won’t be able to stop me because he’ll be too busy choking on the extra-skinny, watered down latte he just made me pick up.
In my calmest voice, I ask, “What about it?”
Ali whispers “Uh-oh” under her breath.
Phil looks at his hands, then at the clock. Another minute ticks by. Sixteen minutes until this appointment. He looks at Ali, who just stares back at him with a mean look. He looks back down at his hands. Silence. Fifteen minutes.
From the doorway, Holly pipes in with “Did you fuck the groom or something?”
Ali starts to laugh as I gasp. Standing in the door, Corinna, Em and Holly are standing in varying states of arms crossed, waiting for Phil’s answer. Em just mean mugs Phil. I check the clock again. Fourteen minutes.
Phil sighs and looks at me with guilt on his face. That was my only warning.
“No, but Jason was engaged to him about ten years ago and broke it off to be with me. Or so the story goes.”
Chaos erupts in my office. In my disbelief, I make a few mental notes. First, Phil is prohibited from doing any further client event profile forms. I also give myself a mental reminder to review all his other forms for new clients for the rest of the week. How could he not think this information was important for me to know, especially now, having more than mere minutes before the Lockwoods come through my door?
As I sit back, listening to my siblings yell among each other, I try to regroup. I have no time to call Jason to discreetly find out what occurred.
I now have five minutes to get this under control.
Forget who fucked who or who fucked whom over. This is not how we built this business.
Phil. Might. Die.
Slowly.
Blunt force trauma caused by my planner. That’s a delicious thought.
But later.
I’ll enjoy planning it in detail, after I deal with damage control.
“All of you, get out of my office. RIGHT NOW!” I yell at my siblings. “I have exactly four minutes to figure this out. I think you all might be depraved lunatics, and how I know this and continue to work with you all on a daily basis is eluding me. This is not the impression this company will give under any circumstances, short of the building catching fire. Find your offices and have your meltdowns in there.”
Then I hear it. That fucking bitch Fate. Three goddamn minutes early. Of course.
“I happen to agree with Ms. Freeman. She and I have an appointment on behalf of my family.”
I find myself staring briefly into a set of the most gorgeous, chocolate brown eyes I have ever seen, before they drift away, looking around the room.
My stomach turns. My skin tingles. My heart flips in my chest.
Holy Shit. Is this the groom?
Of course, it is.
Fate, throwing the first man at me that I find remotely desirable and absolutely can’t have.
4
Caleb
I stare at the ensemble, every one of them frozen in front of me. I decide if the Freemans entered a mannequin challenge, they would likely take first place. Not just for standing completely still, but for the shock and awe on all their faces. Internally smiling at the humor of catching the notorious family in one of their battles, I let my eyes roam around the room.
Since I’d done my homework on them—frankly, I’d read everything about them—before I walked into the door, I’m way more amused than shocked at the scene unfolding before me. While my original intent was to make sure my brother didn’t get swindled by these people to create his dream wedding, I was compelled to meet this family after what I read yesterday. I ran the background check for Ry, then carefully manipulated him and Jared into letting me handle the preliminary meeting today on their behalf. They’re convinced the Freemans will create the perfect wedding and reception based on recommendations from friends and colleagues.
I think I just saw the reason why.
It’s not the youngest, Corinna, whose cat eyes and curves likely have most men fainting before they ever took a bite of the cakes she baked. It’s not Allison, whose devastating blue eyes and severe mouth could slice you in half. It’s no surprise to me that she’s the corporate financial officer and attorney, and didn’t deal with the day-to-day wedding events.
Emily and Holly are both knockouts as well. Emily has her blonde hair pinned up, dark blue eyes flashing behind her dark glasses, and her red lips pursed, ready to spring to the family’s defense. Her sharp style matches her sharp gaze. I could easily see Emily dressing Ry and Jared in appropriate wedding attire and not taking any bullshit in the process. No one was going down the aisle in gold brocade if she has anything to say about it. Holly, well, she’s the dreamer. I nabbed her checking me out, as if she had her camera in her hand, trying to find the best angle to take one of her illuminating shots. I can practically see the wheels in her head spinning as she gnaws on her full lower lip.
Then there’s Phillip, the older brother. Jason Ross’ husband. The one who had fallen into Jason’s life, breaking up my brother’s sham of an engagement, the results of which left Ry reeling for a while. The Golden Boy, as Ry used to derisively describe him over Skype while I was overseas, and according to the file I read. He’s probably afraid I’m here to upset his happy world order and ready to beat the shit out of me if I do.
The man standing in front of me took in five girls when he was barely a teenager himself, none of whom were related to him, and helped raise them to be the highly successful women standing in front of me. Regardless of what had happened in his or my brother’s love lives, he has my respect for that alone.
I ignore the occupant of the room, the one I’m dying to look at, and reach my hand out to Phillip first. “Caleb Lockwood. A pleasure.”
“Phillip Freeman-Ross. I apologize for…”
Now I let the smile cross my face. “No need. You should have heard the battles that would happen in our house as kids. And there were far fewer of us.”
A bark of laughter leaves Phillip’s mouth. He glances over my shoulder like he’s been distracted by movement. I imagine daggers are shooting from the gem-colored eyes of the oldest Freeman sister. “As my sister stated appropriately, at Amaryllis Events, this isn’t the impression we like to provide to prospective clients. We like to save the crazy for meeting three, at least.”
“Phillip.” His name is said in a calm voice. She’s too calm if I go by the number of choked sounds, accompanied by phones and hands raised in front of the mouths of the four sisters to muffle their snickers.
“Right,” Phillip says. “I’ll be leaving now. Say, Caleb, can I grab you a cup of coffee before you meet with my sister?”
“Phillip,” the voice behind me says again. Calm. In control. “Get out. Now. If Mr. Lockwood would like coffee, I am more than capable of obtaining it for him. However, you may choke to death on you
rs and it will be the last extra skinny latte you ever taste. Now, do you want to press your luck and continue to speak in front of me another minute more?”
The sisters can’t control their laughter any longer. They all offer their welcome, quickly introduce themselves, and leave Cassidy’s office. Phillip doesn’t say anything else, but shakes my hand firmly, his eyes meeting mine directly. His expression clearly says, have an issue with me, fine. Don’t fuck with my family.
It’s an expression I’m familiar with, as I wear it often.
As the door closes softly behind him, I turn to face Cassidy Freeman, CEO, event planner and distraction extraordinaire. Fuck, if I don’t like what I see. I let out a soft breath. From the moment I walked in the room, I deliberately ignored her. I now get the full impact. From the top of her head to her booted feet, everything about her intrigues me.
Sweet Jesus, she’s a knockout.
Easily the shortest member of the Freeman family, Cassidy’s petite size doesn’t take away from her presence. Fuck no. A face that is bewitching more than classically beautiful, with long curly hair pulled back in a braid, and the brightest blue-green eyes framed by the longest lashes. Her lower lip, painted a deep burgundy, is thrust forward, and her hands are on her hips, stretching the fabric of her sweater dress across her breasts. Shit, she’s tiny. Even wearing boots with a three to four-inch heel, she only comes up to my chin.
During my discreet perusal of her, she takes a deep breath and turns her head toward the window, clearly regrouping. I glimpse the side of her neck where her amaryllis tattoo, the Freeman family logo, peeks out from beneath her heavy mane of hair. Damned if I needed yet another reason to be turned on by her.
She’s a brilliant, badass puzzle in a package built for every fantasy I’ve ever had about a woman.
I don’t know if I let an incontrollable sound escape, or if her self-preservation instinct kicked in, but suddenly her gem-colored eyes turn and lock on mine.
I’m standing at least four feet from her, and the delicate pulse in her neck is fluttering visibly. Mine starts to synchronize with hers—a little fast-paced and agitated. I’m not the only one affected, but I might be the only one who understands why.
Nothing I read about her yesterday, no picture I saw, could have prepared me for the impact of her on my senses. She’s an enigma.
“Mr. Lockwood, I’m Cassidy Freeman. Again, I would like to offer my apologies for the circus you walked in on when you first came in. As I’m sure you likely overheard, my brother failed to provide me with the details of your appointment in enough time for me to fully prepare for our meeting. It’s our preferred approach to be prepared well in advance in order to anticipate your needs.”
“I don’t think there’s any way you could have anticipated what your brother had planned on telling you, Cassidy. It’s fine. The most important thing is making sure Ryan has the wedding he’s always dreamt of with no flaws.”
The professional she is, she squares her shoulders, gesturing to the chair Phil had vacated earlier. “May I take your coat?” I gesture to her I’m fine. “Please take a seat then. Can I offer you that coffee Phillip mentioned earlier? Tea?” I shudder in revulsion. “I’ll take it that is a no. For both?” A light laugh trickles out. “A Coke?”
“Please.”
She reaches into a refrigerator nestled in the cabinetry in front of her. When she turns, she’s holding a familiar red and white can and makes her way back to me on those fantasy-inspiring boots. Handing me the can and a coaster, she sits elegantly behind her desk.
It appears my girl’s a bit obsessive about neatness. My girl? Whoa, boy. You just met her. Just because you know everything about her, doesn’t mean she would be interested.
In fact, if I read her file correctly, she would never be interested.
Damn, if that isn’t a deflating thought.
“So, tell me more about the groom,” she inquires, picking up a cup from The Coffee Shop. Taking a sip, she scrunches her nose and puts it aside. Pulling her wireless keyboard closer to her, I glance around for the screen and realize she has it submerged beneath the profile of the desk. Efficient. Cassidy can take notes and not lose line of sight with her clients. I may need that setup for my office.
“Ry’s fantastic.” I can’t help but laugh. “He’s probably the most romantic bastard there is in the world. When he proposed, I know for a fact he bought out three nurseries of primroses to make the rooftop deck of our house a virtual Garden of Eden. You know the meaning of primroses is, ‘I can’t live without you,’ right?” Waiting for her nod, I continue. “He took the day off work, got everyone we know involved in arranging them just right. We have a condo in the Powell Building with an outdoor roof deck in the city. Ry spends all day stringing lights all over the place, moves the speakers outside, and what happens? It starts raining! Not like it mattered, of course. Everything ended up just perfect for Ry.”
Cassidy says nothing, but offers a polite smile I don’t quite get. She looks down and begins typing. Did I miss something? Didn’t she ask about Ry?
“Have you discussed what kind of wedding you two are thinking of? Something large, or small and intimate?”
Wait. What the fuck did she say? Ry and I? Married?
From the moment I walked in the door of Amaryllis Events and heard the husband of my brother’s ex being ripped a new asshole by his five sisters, and having my dick turn semi-hard from my first glance at Cassidy Freeman, to now being asked what I would like at the wedding she thinks I’m having by marrying my brother, this morning has been nothing but a comedy of errors.
I toss my head back and laugh from the depths of my soul. I can’t wait to replay this entire morning later in bed, while thinking of blue-green eyes and dark hair. I lean back in my chair and cross my legs at the ankles, putting my arms behind my head. I notice Cassidy’s eyes do a quick bit of wandering themselves. So, the pixie at least likes what she sees. That’s a good start.
“No, Cassidy. Ry and I have not talked about the wedding at all. However, I know he and Jared discussed it in detail the other night without me before I got home from a business trip. Since they have since shared their decisions with me, I have a fair idea of what’s needed.”
I think Cassidy gets whiplash, her head comes up so fast. Her left arm flings out, knocking her coffee cup off her desk and right onto the floor. As she jumps up, her office chair flies back and slams into the wall.
“Shit!” she yells, before her face turns to me in horror. Racing over to the cabinet where she got my Coke, she grabs paper towels from another one of those hidden cabinets, muttering under her breath, “Phil…Won’t live to his first anniversary… Scissors…Hair” as she cleans up the coffee spill from the hardwood floor and her desk.
I make no move to assist her, because frankly, I’m enjoying the tight pull of her dress over her ass too damn much.
She stands, throws out the mess of towels and washes her hands at the wet bar. She appears to be doing some sort of deep breathing exercise that shows off her magnificent breasts.
Jesus. A woman like her needs to come with a warning label.
After the eighth or so breath, she has herself back under control and is apparently ready to deal with what she thinks will be my marriage to two men, one of whom is my brother.
I sit back with a shit-eating grin, ready to enjoy the hell out of this appointment with the fantasy-inspiring Cassidy Freeman.
“Again, I apologize, Mr. Lockwood—”
“Please, call me Caleb, Cassidy,” I say with a huge smile. “After all, we’re going to be working very closely together for the next few months. By the end of this, I imagine we’ll know each other so well, we’ll be exchanging holiday cards every year, at the very least.” I toss in the last part for good measure.
Her eyes widen slightly. “Well, Mr. Lock—I mean, Caleb. In all my years in the business, I have never met a family member with as much…enthusiasm as you have. I’m sure we’ll enjoy our relatio
nship quite a bit.”
Oh, Pixie, if you only knew.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I train my expression to be as deadpan as possible. “As much as I want to talk about Ry and Jared, and could do for hours, I do have a limited amount of time today, Cassidy. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty. What do you need to know so we can get this under contract?”
Straightening, Cassidy gives me her professional smile and begins firing questions at me. Do I want to use all services offered in-house? Of course. Amaryllis Events has an enormous reputation for being the best at everything. Even if they didn’t, I want it to be Cassidy’s job to corral my mother’s ass. I don’t mention that point to Cassidy just yet. Do I have a preferred location? Our family home in Greenwich. I can’t get Ry to budge on that. What is the date of the wedding? I ask if Thanksgiving weekend is too soon since the location is a private residence.
Back and forth on the questions. I think the only two items that even mildly threw her for a loop was when I dropped that there would be well over 500 guests in attendance, Thanksgiving weekend or not, and that we wanted unfettered access to her anytime, day or night, due to the scale and significance of the wedding.
Cassidy quickly sorted many details with an efficiency that, had I actually been planning my own wedding, would have impressed the shit out of me. Mentally shaking my head in wonder over how her brain works, there’s a knock at the door.
Oh shit. Ryan and Jared are here.
“One moment, please,” Cassidy calls out. “Caleb, I do believe we have about seventy-five percent of the major decisions made. You appear to know what Ryan and Jared are looking for with the wedding. I may make a few suggestions and recommendations for enhancements along the way, but nothing to detract from the vision coming together.”
“Cassidy, there’s one more thing.” I look directly into her eyes. I want that physical connection between us before that door swings open. There’s something between this woman and me, and I need more time to figure out what it is. I stand and hand her my business card. “I’d like to continue this conversation later, but I need to get going. That’s my number on the card to reach me any time.”
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