Burned Deep

by Calista Fox

  I sidestepped the group. A concerned Grace asked, “Are you okay? I called Security.”

  “We’re good—I’m good,” I told her. “Sorry for the trouble. That was all my fault.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I called Security on Tattoo Guy,” she said. “He shouldn’t have grabbed you. Looked like it hurt.”

  “It’s fine,” I lied. My arm smarted.

  She whispered, “Who’s Dark and Dangerous?”

  Clearly, she meant the gorgeous green-eyed stranger. “I don’t know.”

  “Interesting,” she murmured. “He’s been watching you since you made your grand entrance. He is smokin’ hot. The best man is damn good-looking, too. Lucky you, all the way around.”

  Heat burst on my cheeks. “Not interested,” I said, trying to compose myself as the groomsmen paid up and I herded them toward the door.

  My pulse still jumped. Not just from the sexy stranger—and the way he’d put an immediate stop to what could have been a disastrous altercation. Competing with the excitement he elicited was a bit of apprehension, because I didn’t like anyone moving in too close. These guys bumped against my boundaries. Only one of them hadn’t touched me, or tried to.

  “Relax, Ari,” a groomsman scoffed as he shrugged into his jacket, not knowing the true source of my consternation. “Weddings never start on time.”

  “Mine do.” Feeling that smoldering gaze again, I turned around. The stranger stood facing me—an impressive six-foot-two or-three inches tall. Muscular. Strong. Powerful. Formidable.

  His eyes narrowed. My stomach fluttered. I couldn’t explain why.

  “Thanks,” I said tentatively.

  His emerald gaze flicked to Kyle before the now-disgruntled best man disappeared out the door, then returned to me. “Try to be a little more careful.”

  “Right.” I bristled slightly at the admonishment but brushed it off. I needed to leave, yet my feet remained rooted where they were. His mesmerizing gaze held me captive. I couldn’t breathe again. It took several seconds to return to myself and head to the door.

  “Ari.”

  His tone was low this time. Rich. Sensual. The warm timbre worked its way through my body and slid slowly, tantalizingly down my spine. Chasing away the apprehension. Making me shiver and inciting a tickle along my clit that had my inner walls clenching as my thighs pressed together.

  I glanced back. “Yes?” My voice was suddenly much too soft and breathy. I was deeply aroused by the way he so intimately said my name—the fact that he’d paid close enough attention to pick up on it.

  His jaw clenched briefly. Then he asked, “Are you all right?”

  I stared at him for several suspended seconds. Why did it matter to him?

  Given his size and agility, he probably felt duty bound to rescue girls like me, who never went looking for trouble but somehow inadvertently found it from time to time.

  “Sure,” I finally said, then dragged my gaze away and forced myself to walk out.

  I left the bar and directed the men to their places by Tamera, an electric current moving under my skin even though I’d broken the intense eye contact and was no longer in the riveting presence of the devilish stranger.

  The changing of color overhead began. The cumulous clouds had miraculously thinned into wispier ones and they captured the light as the sun burned through them, dispersing it in all directions so that fiery blood-orange, gold, and vermillion painted the sky and cast dazzling hues over the sparkling water.

  From a parquet platform set off to the side, a pianist and harpist took their cue and eased into a gorgeously haunting version of Aaliyah’s “One in a Million.” The last of the guests settled in and I signaled the bridesmaids. The adorable six-year-olds serving as ring bearer and flower girl followed.

  I slipped off to get the bride, my gaze flitting toward the restaurant, my interest thoroughly piqued.

  Bax. What kind of a name was that? First? Last? Short for Baxley or Baxter? I shook my head. No, he definitely did not seem like a Baxter.

  Who was he and what had made him come so swiftly to my defense? Even when it had just been Kyle flirting with me, Bax had seemed disturbed by it.

  Curiosity clawed at me. I was dying to figure out what the hell had happened in less than fifteen minutes that had compelled him to save me from the claim two men had instantly staked.

  A rumble of thunder in the distance caught my attention, pulling me from my errant thoughts. I entered the cottage and prepped Meghan for her breath-stealing appearance. As her father escorted her down the aisle, my eyes flashed from the sky to the bridal party to the guests and back. I silently prayed the weather would hold out. I wanted everything to be perfect, but I couldn’t control the climate—nor could I keep my mind from wandering. I swore I felt his gaze again. But that was impossible. He wasn’t one of the guests.

  Clearly, I wanted to feel his gaze.

  Heat blazed through me at the mere thought of him, making me uncomfortable, what with the addition of the thick humidity. I wiped a bead of perspiration from my brow. I was more than intrigued, though I doubted that was wise. He wasn’t the kind of man one trifled with, and he was quite obviously out of my league. Way too potent, likely the reason for all of that forewarning in his eyes.

  Unfortunately, he lingered in my thoughts.

  The ceremony turned out flawless—to the casual observer. No wedding ever went off without a hitch, but it was how you smoothed the wrinkles with no one noticing there was a hiccup that made an event a true success.

  During the vows, I checked in with the staff responsible for the cocktail reception and the band that would entertain the guests while the bridal party and parents posed for pictures. They were all on standby to move everything indoors at a moment’s notice.

  Then I headed into the lodge to confirm the dinner preparations were all seen to. I took in the formal setting with a critical eye, ensuring the floral arrangements and intricate decorations were in their appropriate place, all of which created a no-expense-spared ambience—yet another reason I meticulously surveyed the surroundings.

  Inspecting the rounds of ten filling the enormous ballroom, and the extended head table at the far end where floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the strategically lit grounds and red-rock formations, I spied a few fixables.

  Lifting a tulip champagne flute, I said to the Banquet Manager following me around, “This glass has spots.” I handed it over, noting the tremble in my fingers. That was odd. I was usually a very steady person when in my element. But everything about the potentially dangerous encounter in the bar had left me a bit off-kilter.

  I examined the plates and flatware to make sure they were all polished. Found two more glasses with smudges. A few napkins with slightly tattered edges. Votives that needed to be replaced. The staff rushed about, adjusting everything to my specifications.

  I wasn’t obnoxiously OCD. People paid me good money to ensure every little detail was taken care of and that their event was extraordinary and memorable. I owed it to them to have the food and wine served on time. To make sure no one waited for plates to be cleared from in front of them. To keep servers on their toes so they delivered another fork to a guest before the first one even hit the floor.

  My painstaking attention to all facets of the process from start to finish was also born of the incessant need to occupy every waking second of my day and keep my mind on all things fresh and new and awe-inspiring—like the symbolism that weddings and other events evoked. I put substantial effort into stepping away from the pain wrapped around my parents’ hostile, failed marriage and the inevitable suffering that came from being an only child caught in the cross fire.

  Around the last ten or so minutes of the cocktail hour, the sky conspired against me and opened up. The deluge began. A few fat drops served as a prelude before the heavy shower hit. Everyone scrambled to get into the lodge as I urged them off the patio. Three-pronged lightning flashed wildly and the crack of thunder eclipsed the crashing of c
ymbals as the band’s equipment was hastily moved to the foyer.

  A harsh wind roared through the terrace while I rushed about with the staff, collecting vases of flowers and hurricane lamps containing pillar candles—now blown out by the gust, the smoky scent wafting on the night air. A couple tipped over. The one I reached for flew off the table.

  The shattering of glass on the Saltillo tile lent to the suddenly eerie atmosphere and the sense of urgency to gather everything up. Kyle jumped into the mayhem, snatching decorations quicker than I could and adding them to a service cart. Strands of hair slashed across my face as the undercurrent gained strength.

  “Get inside, Ari!” he shouted.

  “This is my job!” I insisted as more jagged bolts lit the night. “You’re a guest. You get inside!”

  “Yeah, right. And leave you out here?” He rounded up the last of the arrangements and all but dragged me into the lodge. We set everything off to the side with the gift table.

  My breath labored from the scurrying around—and how close the lightning had struck.

  The guests remained dry, thankfully, and incredulous conversations over how fast and furious the tempest had hit were in full swing.

  Meghan hurried over, delicately holding up the hem of her gown. “Ari, you’re drenched!”

  She dropped one side of her fluffy skirt and snatched a clean linen napkin from a high-top table set up specifically in the event the rain didn’t hold off until dinnertime. She handed the napkin over and I dabbed at my cheeks and throat while my pulse raced.

  “You were so right about the monsoons,” she said, contrite. “But at least we got through the ceremony and almost all of the reception. Everything’s just gorgeous, Ari!”

  “I’m glad it worked out—for the most part.”

  She waved her manicured hand in the air as she was prone to do. “It’s all fabulous. Exactly what I wanted. Well, with the exception of you getting soaked.”

  “It was worth it. We salvaged just about all of the arrangements.”

  Meghan had asked me previously to make sure the florist returned for the bouquets at the end of the evening and distributed them to hospices and funeral homes to brighten someone else’s day. I thought that was a beautiful gesture.

  She leaned forward as though to hug me. My hand jerked up to ward her off.

  “Don’t you dare,” I hastily said, “or you’ll ruin your dress.” I wouldn’t have minded the friendly bit of affection coming from her but I feared spoiling her gown. “You need to get upstairs so dinner can start. And I need to find some towels.”

  Sean came for her and I turned to Kyle, who was shaking off the rain from his jacket. He gave up and slipped out of it. He raked a hand through his hair and managed to appear dashing despite his slightly unkempt appearance. The wet look totally worked for him.

  “Thanks for the save,” I said.

  “Had to redeem myself, right? I didn’t exactly get to be the hero in the bar.”

  “You really weren’t given a chance.” It was unfortunate that I couldn’t release the image from my mind of the man who had been the hero. Albeit a reluctant one. His scowl had spoken volumes.

  Kyle told me, “I’d offer you my jacket but it’s no drier than your own clothes.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “What else can I do to help?”

  I laughed softly. “I think you’ve earned your wings, by a lot. You’d better get going, anyway. Formal introductions are about to be made.” According to my careful planning.

  “You’ll save me a dance, right? Or a few?”

  His sudden mega-watt grin was contagious, despite my mind being elsewhere. “I’m the wedding planner, remember? Here to work. But you … Go. Have fun. Enjoy. Eat too much cake.”

  I tried to shoo him off with a wave of my hand. He lingered a moment or two, as though he had something else to say. He really was very sweet. Valiant. I liked him, no doubt. But didn’t want to lead him on. So I was relieved when he spun around and sauntered off, heading to the second floor.

  I ducked into the bathroom and used a few plush hand towels to dry my skin and the ends of my hair. I ran one over my blouse and skirt to sop up the drops of water. I couldn’t wring out the garments or the material would rumple miserably. I was stuck with moist, clinging clothes because the gift shop was already closed and I hadn’t brought a spare outfit. Lesson learned there.

  Thus, I kept to the periphery as I made sure the dinner service went off without a hitch. Finally, I consulted with the DJ, who’d take over from this point.

  Sometimes I hung around to watch the dancing, because brides and their families typically asked me to celebrate with them, and tonight was no exception. But I was exhausted, having pulled off this particular wedding in such a short, frenzied period—an emotional time, what with the tension gripping everyone over the impending Mrs. Aldridge’s delicate condition and concern that the news would ignite a scandal for the high-society Delfinos.

  Not to mention all the drama created by the inclement weather and the men I’d encountered this evening. I’d be out like a light when I got home. Looked forward to a sound night’s sleep, instead of waking up ten times to run through my mental checklists.

  I’d also caught Kyle stealing glances my way, and I really hated the idea of turning him down again. Clearly, he was a good guy. Much more on par with where my interests should lie—rather than with the magnetic stranger, so intriguing and darkly gorgeous. Primed to come to my rescue—

  I shook my head. I definitely shouldn’t think about him.

  After delivering congratulations and good-byes, I went downstairs to the lobby of the main lodge, a log structure that belonged in the mountains of Aspen, but which stunned visitors as it sat nestled in this artistic canyon. The two-story windows highlighted an inspirational landscape that left one speechless the first, tenth, and one-hundredth time they admired the view. Even more so tonight, as they showcased a spectacular display of purple-and-gold lightning veins rippling across the clouds.

  I passed through the tall double doors and was greeted by a valet.

  “Another happily ever after, Miss DeMille?”

  “What a lovely way to put it, Alex. And yes, I think the newlyweds have a very pleasant future ahead of them.”

  Envy seeped through my veins, but I ignored the sensation. It happened on occasion. Was to be expected, I surmised. I was twenty-six years old, with very few friends—really just a handful of people who knew me from the weddings I worked with them. I dated every now and then, but trying to build my rep as the “It” event planner in the Southwest kept me busy.

  I had a very specific goal in mind, a career I was devoted to, one I was completely immersed in and was already plotting to take to the next level. That hadn’t exactly panned out for me yet, but I remained diligent. So much so, I’d developed an eagle eye for details, could anticipate needs before expressed, was thoroughly aware of my surroundings so that very few wayward scenarios took me by surprise.

  But he did.

  chapter 2

  I sensed his presence a breath too late, so that he was standing next to me before I had the chance to sidestep him. Put a few feet between us. My body tensed.

  “Did I startle you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I admitted. It was both unnerving and enticing that he noticed so much about me. It wasn’t something I was accustomed to.

  “My apologies.” His voice was that warm timbre that ribboned through me.

  I turned to face him, the devilish stranger. The dark, mesmerizing man who had the potential to haunt my mind and plague my fantasies from this day forward. I used the word plague because I didn’t need anyone specific hovering in the back of my brain when I conjured erotic images to enhance a quick go-round with my very straightforward, get-the-job-done vibrator.

  I kept my fantasy men nameless and faceless—though that defense mechanism was probably shot to hell now that I’d gotten a glimpse of the ultimate fantasy man.

>   I didn’t even delve into identities when I had the rare one-night stand—a term I used very loosely. Typically, it was someone I met at a hotel where I held an event, someone I’d never see again, would never run into at the grocery store. Men who were more than happy to indulge in spontaneous, impersonal sex. Mostly me bent over a desk or pressed up against a wall in their room. Always over within a concise amount of time. Then I shoved my thong and skirt into place and reached for the doorknob before they lobbed a “Maybe the next time I’m in town…?” my way.

  Not appealing to everyone, but it worked fine for me. When you’d slipped into the role of loner because you’d spent so much time avoiding screaming parents, true intimacy was a foreign concept. I’d discovered it was best to limit physical contact. The less you knew of it, the less you craved it.

  “Looks like you got caught in the rain,” the sexy stranger said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

  “Occupational hazard.”

  “That and getting hit on by groomsmen?”

  I sighed. “That was all a bit bizarre.”

  “I hope the jerk who grabbed you didn’t leave a bruise.”

  “It stung a little, but I’m okay.”

  His jaw clenched, as though hearing I’d been hurt angered him. His irises actually darkened. “I should have taught that guy a lesson about keeping his hands to himself.”

  The sharp intonation to his voice, the slightly gritty inflection, made the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end.

  “Think you made your point loud and clear,” I said. “He got the picture.”

  “It’s not something he should have gotten away with, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Sooo … what? You wish you’d punched him in the face for good measure?”

  “I was thinking the gut, but breaking his nose probably would have given me equal satisfaction.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was kidding … or deathly serious. That raw intensity I’d noted in the bar still exuded from him. He had a very dangerous edge to him, one that made my nerves jump but which excited me all the same. A surreal combination. Definitely not a sane elixir to be tempted by, and yet … I was tempted by this man.