Thirty days from now no one would be able to question her dedication—which meant returning to the puzzle of the table seating.
“You go on,” she told Sullivan. “I have to get back to my work.”
“What are you doing over there? Those earlier moans weren’t as pleasant as your dinner noises.”
“It’s a creative new form of torture called a seating arrangement.”
“Ah. It sounds excruciating.”
“Oh, believe me. It’s for a political dinner and there are all these levels of protocols of who can sit with whom. And then there’s the added element of personal likes and dislikes. It’s two steps back for every one step forward. And it’s a lot of manual double-checking...talk about a headache.”
“Politics usually are.” The grimness in his tone told her there was something more there. Before she had time to wonder about it, he went on. “The information isn’t on spreadsheets?”
“It is, but there are more than a hundred names here. I have to seat a table and then check each name to see if they’re compatible.”
“You know you can set up a program that can look at the information and tell you whether the table mates are compatible at the time you put the name in.”
She blinked at him. “That would be wonderful. How do I do that exactly?”
He laughed, a deep, friendly sound, then rattled off a string of commands that had her eyes glazing over. “The setup will take a few minutes but will likely save you hours overall.”
“Yeah, but you lost me at the word ‘algorithm.’” She wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. “You really had my hopes up for a minute there.”
“Sorry, tech talk. I own a company that provides software for cyber security. A program like this really isn’t that difficult. Let me see your computer after dinner and I’ll do it for you. It’ll take me less than an hour.”
This man was tempting her left and right. She weighed the hours she’d save against the confidentiality agreement she’d signed and sadly shook her head.
“Thank you for offering but I can’t. This is a special event. I’m not allowed to share information with anyone except my staff, designated officials and pre-approved vendors.”
“This is for the royal wedding of Prince Antonio of Halencia, right?”
Her eyes popped wide. How could he know that?
“Come on, it’s not hard to guess. The wedding dress, the seating chart. We’re on a flight to Florence. And I know they have an American event planner. Hang on, I’ll take care of this.”
He pulled out his cell phone and hit a couple of buttons.
“What?” she challenged. “You’re calling the palace in Halencia? Uh, huh. I don’t think so. You can hang up now.”
“Hey, Tony.” He raised a dark eyebrow as he spoke into the phone.
Tony? As in Antonio? Yeah, right.
“I got your text. Don’t worry about it. I’m here for a month. I’ll see you next week.” He listened for a moment. “Yes, I had dinner with them. They were thrilled with the invitation. Hey, listen, the wedding planner is on my flight and she needs some programming to help her with the seating chart. She’s bound by the confidentiality agreement from letting me help her. Can you give her authorization? Great, I’m going to put her on.”
He held the phone out to Lindsay. “It’s Prince Antonio.”
CHAPTER TWO
LINDSAY ROLLED HER eyes at the man across the way, wondering how far he meant to take this joke and what he hoped to achieve.
“Hello?”
“Buona sera, Ms. Reeves. I hope you are having a nice flight.”
“Uh, yes, I am.” The voice was male, pleasant and slightly accented. And could be anyone. Except how had he known her name? Sullivan hadn’t mentioned it.
“Christina is thrilled to have your services for the wedding. You have my full support to make this il matrimonio dei suoi sogni—the wedding of her dreams.”
“I’ll do my best.” Could this actually be the prince?
“Duty demands my presence at the palace but I look forward to meeting you at the rehearsal. Zach is my best man. He will be my advocate in Monte Calanetti for the next month. He is available to assist you in any way necessary.”
She turned to look at the man across the aisle and quirked a brow at his evil smirk. “Zach... Sullivan?”
“Yes. We went to college together. He’s like a brother to me. If he can assist with the meal plan—”
“The seating chart.” She squeezed her eyes closed. OMG, I just interrupted the royal prince.
“Of course. The seating chart. If Zach can help, you must allow him to be of service. He is quite handy with a computer.”
“Yes. I will. Thank you.”
“It is I who thanks you. You do us an honor by coming to Halencia. If I can be of further assistance, you have access to me through Zach. Buona notte, Ms. Reeves.”
“Good night.” Instead of giving the phone back to Sullivan she checked the call history and saw she’d spoken to Tony de l’Accardi. She slowly turned her head to meet chocolate-brown eyes. “You know the Prince of Halencia.”
“I wouldn’t take on the best man gig for anyone else.”
The flight attendant appeared with the cart to collect his meal and sweetly inquire if he’d like dessert.
Lindsay rolled her eyes, barely completing the action before the blonde turned to her.
“Are you done, ma’am?”
Ma’am again? Lindsay’s eyes narrowed in a bland stare.
Her displeasure must have registered because the woman rushed on. “For dessert we have crème brûlée, strawberry cheesecake or a chocolate mousse.”
Lindsay handed off her empty plate and, looking the woman straight in the eye, declared, “I’ll have one of each.”
“Of course, ma... Ms. Reeves.” She hurriedly stashed the plate and rolled the cart away.
Lindsay slowly turned her head until Sullivan’s intent regard came into view. Okay, first things first. “I’m only twenty-nine. Way too young to be ma’am.”
He cocked his head.
She handed him his phone. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the best man?”
He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Would you have believed me?”
She contemplated him. “Probably. I have a file on you.”
His slanted eyebrow seemed to dip even further. “Then I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me. You probably have profiles on the entire wedding party in that tablet of yours.”
She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug of acknowledgment. “I’ve learned it’s wise to know who I’ll be working with. I didn’t recognize you because it’s out of context. Plus, you don’t have an eight-o’clock shadow in your company photo in which you’re wearing glasses.”
“Huh.” He ran the backs of his fingers over his jaw. “I’ll have to get that picture updated. I had Lasik eye surgery over a year ago. Regardless, I didn’t know you were involved in the wedding until you started talking about the meal arrangements.”
“Seating arrangements,” she corrected automatically.
“Right.”
The flight attendant arrived with dessert. She handed Zach a crystal dish of chocolate mousse and set a small tray with all three desserts artfully displayed in front of Lindsay.
“Enjoy,” she said and retreated down the aisle.
“Mmm.” Lindsay picked up a spoon and broke into the hard shell of crystalized sugar topping the crème brûlée. “Mmm.” This time it was a moan. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Careful, Ms. Reeves, you’re going to get me worked up if you continue.” Zach gestured at her loaded tray with his spoon. “I see you like your sweets.”
“It’s a long night.” She defended her stash.
“I guess you don’t plan on sleeping.”
“I have a lot of work.” She gave her usual excuse then, for some unknown reason, confessed, “I don’t sleep well on planes.”
“It may help if you relaxed and watched the movie instead of working.”
No doubt he was right. But work soothed her, usually. Over the past year she’d found it increasingly more difficult to believe in the magic of her process. She blamed her breakup with Kevin last year. But she hoped to change that soon. If a royal wedding couldn’t bring back the magic in what she did, she needed to rethink her career path.
“Thank you for that insightful bit of advice. What don’t you like about being best man? The role or the exposure?”
“Either. Both. Seems like I’ve been dodging the limelight since I was two.”
“Well, you did grow up in a political family.” That brought his earlier comment and reaction into context. Her research revealed he was related to the political powerhouse Sullivans from Connecticut. “Never had any aspiration in that direction?”
The curse he uttered made her glance worriedly toward the toddlers. Luckily the lack of sound or movement in that direction indicated they were probably asleep.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“I wished my father understood me so well.”
She empathized with his pain. She felt the same way about her mother. Perhaps empathy was why she found him so easy to talk to. “I’ve found parents often see what they want to see. That addresses the exposure...what do you have against the role of best man?”
“I hate weddings. The fancier the event, the more I detest them. There’s something about the pomp and circumstance that just screams fake to me.” He licked his spoon and set the crystal dish aside. “No offense.”
No offense? He’d just slammed everything she stood for. Why should she be offended?
And he wasn’t done. “It’s like the couple needs to distract the crowd from the fact they’re marrying for something other than love.”
“You don’t believe in love?” It was one thing for her to question her belief in what she was doing and another for someone else to take shots at it.
“I believe in lust and companionship. Love is a myth best left to romance novels.”
“Wow. That’s harsh.” And came way too close to how she felt these days.
The way his features hardened when he voiced his feelings told her strong emotion backed his comment. Kind of at odds with his family dynamic. The Sullivans were touted as one of the All-American families going back for generations. Long marriages and one or two kids who were all upstanding citizens. They ranked right up there with the Kennedys and Rockefellers.
The attendants came through the cabin collecting trash and dirty dishes. They offered turndown service, which Lindsay turned down. She still had work to do.
“Just let us know when you’re ready.”
Across the way Zach also delayed his bed service and got the same response. Once the attendants moved on, he leaned her way.
“Now you know you can trust me, are you ready for me to work on your spreadsheet? I’d like to do it before I start my movie.”
“Oh. Sure.” Could she trust him? Lindsay wondered as she pulled out her tablet. Just because she knew who he was didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Too charming for her peace of mind. And a total flirt. “Do you want to do it on mine or should I send it to you?”
“Little Pixie, I’d like to do yours.” His gaze ran over her, growing hotter as it rolled up her body. Her blood was steaming by the time his gaze met hers. “But since I have to work, you should send it to me.”
“It’ll do you no good to flirt with me.” She tapped in her password and opened her spreadsheet. “What’s your email?” She keyed in the address and sent it. “This wedding is too important to my career for me to risk getting involved with the best man.”
“Oh, come on. The best man is harmless.” Zach had his laptop open. “Got it. He’s shackled for the whole event.”
“The best man is a beast. His mind is all wrapped up in the bachelor party and strippers. He feels it’s his duty to show the groom what he’ll be giving up. And more than half the time he’s on the prowl for some action just to remind himself he’s still free, whether he is or not.”
Zach flinched. “Wow. That’s harsh.”
Oh, clever man. “With good cause. I have a strict ‘no fraternizing with the wedding party—including guests’—policy for my company and the vendors I work with. But, yeah, I’ve had to bolster a few bridesmaids who took it too far and expected too much and went home alone. Or refer them back to the bride or groom for contact info that wasn’t shared.”
“That’s a lot of blame heaped on the best man.”
“Of course, it’s not just the best man, but in my experience he can be a bad, bad boy.”
“It’s been a long time since I was bad.”
“Define long.”
He laughed.
“Seriously, I just want you to rewind the conversation a few sentences and then say that again with a straight face.”
His gaze shifted from his laptop to make another slow stroll over her. Jacking up her pulse yet again.
He needed to stop doing that!
Unremorseful, he cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not saying I don’t go after what I want. But I’m always up front about my intentions. No illusions, no damages.”
Sounded like a bad boy to her.
“Well, you have fun, now. I’m here to work.”
He shook his head as he went back to keying commands into his computer. “All work and no play makes Ms. Reeves a dull girl.”
“I’m not being paid to have fun.” And that was the problem right there—the one she’d been struggling with for nearly a year.
Her work wasn’t fun anymore.
And the cause wasn’t just the disillusionment she suffered in her love life. Though that ranked high on the motive list. She’d started feeling this way before Kevin had come back into her life. Instead of being excited by the creative endeavor, she’d gotten bogged down in the details.
Maybe it was Hollywood. Believing in the magic of happily-ever-after got a little harder to do with each repeat customer. Not to mention the three-peats. And the fact her mother was her best customer. Hopefully, husband number six would be the charm for her.
Seriously, Lindsay crossed her fingers in the folds of her skirt. She truly wished this marriage lasted. She liked Matt and he seemed to get her mom, who had the attention span and sense of responsibility of a fourteen-year-old. There was nothing mentally wrong with Darlene Reeves. She could do for herself. She just didn’t want to. Darlene’s dad had treated her like a princess, giving her most everything she wanted and taking care of all the little details in life. He’d died when she was seventeen and she’d been chasing his replacement all her life.
She’d had Lindsay when she was eighteen and then she learned to get the wedding ring on her finger before they lost interest. In between love interests, Lindsay was expected to pick up the slack.
She loved her mother dearly. But she loved her a little easier when she was in a committed relationship.
“Did you fall asleep on me over there?”
His question called her attention to his profile. Such strong features—square jaw dusted with stubble-defined cheekbones, straight nose. He really was beautiful in a totally masculine way. Too much temptation. Good thing her policy put him off limits.
“No. Just going over what I need to do.”
“Perfect timing then.” He swirled his finger and hit a single key. “Because I just sent your file back to you.”
“So soon?” She reached for her tablet, excited to try the new program. The file opened onto a picture of circles in the form of a rectangle. Each circle was nu
mbered. She’d refine the shape once she viewed the venue. She ran her finger across the page and as it moved over a circle names popped up showing who was seated at the table.
“Cool. How do I see everybody?”
“You hit this icon here.” He hung over his chair, reaching across the aisle to show her. He tried showing her the other features, but his actions were awkward. Being left-handed, he had to use his right hand to aid her because of the distance between the seats.
“This is ridiculous.” Unsnapping her seat belt, she stood. “Do you mind if I come over there for a few minutes while we go over this?”
“Sure.” He stood, as well, and stepped aside.
Standing next to him she came face to loosened tie with him. She bent her head back to see him and then bent it back again to meet his gaze. “My goodness. How tall are you?”
“Six-four.”
“And the prince?”
“Six-one.” Long fingers tugged on a short dark tendril. “Does this brain never stop working?”
“Not when I get a visual of a tall drink of water standing next to a shot glass.”
“I’m not quite sure what that means, but I think there was a compliment in there somewhere.”
“Don’t start imagining things at fifty thousand feet, Sullivan. We’re a long way from help.” She tugged on his blue-pinstriped tie. “You can ditch this now. Was dinner a formal affair?”
The light went out of his eyes. He yanked the tie off and stuffed it in his pants’ pocket. “It’s always formal with my parents.”
She patted his chest. “You did your duty, now move on.”
“Good advice.” He gestured for her to take the window seat.
She hesitated for a beat. Being trapped in the inside seat, surrounded by his potent masculinity, might be pushing her self-control a little thin. But his computer program blew her mind. From the tiny bit she’d seen, it had the potential to save her hours, if not days, of work.
“Ms. Reeves?” His breath wafted over her ear, sending a shiver racing down her spine. “Are you okay?”
The Best Man & The Wedding Planner Page 2