Planning for Love

by Christi Barth

  Ivy bit back a smile at his antics and mustered a stern glare. “I care because this wedding cost a fortune, and I’m sure your services run into the thousands.” Then she remembered a seminar on con artists from her last association meeting, and another possible angle flashed through her mind. “Are you the ambulance chasers of the wedding world? Do you follow catering trucks around to find the hot weddings? Is this a scam, where you show up and tape everything, and then strong arm the bride and groom into paying?”

  “Oh, they aren’t paying for us. We’re paying them.”

  Utter confusion swamped her. They were talking in circles. The clink of glassware filtered in from the hallway. It was a timely reminder the caterers had yet to place the wineglasses and water goblets on the tables. Once they finished, she would set the place cards in their Star of David–shaped holders and hand-written menus. In other words, lots to do and the clock was ticking. A glance at her watch confirmed less than two hours before the wedding march began. Her to-the-minute itinerary didn’t include a time slot to solve the mystery of the uninvited, albeit borderline irresistible video guy! “Bennett—”

  “Call me Ben.” He rose from the chair, and Ivy was forced to tip her head back a little to maintain eye contact. Easily several inches over six feet, most of it was in his legs. The satin stripe on his tuxedo pants only emphasized his height. “I can see what happened. Tracy didn’t tell you she won the contest. Probably thought you’d flip out or something. Most wedding coordinators aren’t wild about us interfering with the big day.”

  “What contest?”

  “Our show holds a contest every year. Whoever wins not only gets featured on the show, but we pay for their honeymoon. The only catch is that if they do win, we have to tag along and film the whole thing.”

  “What show?” Suspicion reared inside her. Reality wedding shows were a dime a dozen, and Ivy loathed most of them. Her profession tended to be portrayed in an unflattering light.

  He ran a hand back and forth along the ladder-back chair. Carefully pushed it back into place at the table, tucking it neatly under the bright yellow tablecloth. “WWS. You know, Wild Wedding Smackdown.” Ben, anticipating her reaction, at least had the grace to wince.

  It took a concerted effort not to let her jaw drop to the floor. Without a doubt his show was the worst of the lot. It featured two couples, each trying to upstage the other with lavish ceremonies and over-the-top receptions. The brides invariably sniped at each other on Twitter, made horrible catty remarks in behind-the-scenes video diaries, or stole a great band right out from under the other’s nose. Really, it was like watching high school students fight to have the best prom.

  “Please tell me you’re joking.” Her head reeled. How could one of her weddings be featured on that classless catfight? The millions of people who watched wouldn’t know she was hired at the last minute to only do day-of coordination. They might even assume she pushed the bride and groom into participating. This broadcast could ruin her reputation in Chicago, the reputation she’d carefully honed and polished over the past six years. It was a nightmare, pure and simple.

  “Wish I was.” He looked over both shoulders, then whispered in her ear. “Just between you and me, I hate it too.”

  “Oh, well, that fixes everything!” Sarcasm weighed down her words.

  “I mean it.” Ben came around to crouch in front of her and took her hands. The surprisingly intimate gesture from a man she’d just met startled her. Of course, between carrying her and checking for injuries, he’d already run his hands over most of her body. Still, this moment felt different somehow. Very personal, very connected.

  “Ivy, I can tell you’re upset. You turned white as a ghost the minute I said WWS. Trust me, I’ve worked on the show long enough to know it’s a piece of crap. I’ve been trying to get off of it since day one. As a matter of fact, I just got promoted at True Life. Tonight’s my last gig.”

  His thumb brushed in a soothing pattern over her knuckles. It took a huge effort to split her focus between his words and the tingles he sent zinging up her arm. “Well, goody for you. So glad you’re moving up in the world while I’m about to crash and burn.”

  “It won’t be that bad.”

  She rolled her eyes. The blatant understatement didn’t deserve a response.

  “I know you hate the show, and I hate the show, but millions of people out there love it.”

  “Millions of people watch NASCAR just for the crashes,” she shot back. Who knew it was possible to be this depressed while a tall blond hunk caressed her?

  “Listen to me. Don’t look at the glass as half empty. Everyone knows it’s impossible to control a bride. They won’t blame you for the bad stuff, but you’ll get credit for all the good stuff.”

  The only good side that immediately sprang to mind was meeting Ben. Unfortunately, it was a purely personal perk, and in no way could help save her career. And for all she knew, he might disappear the moment she calmed down. Meanwhile, in a matter of weeks her face would be in high definition on television screens handing out the tacky favors; water bottles plastered with a picture of the happy couple chugging beer at the bar where they met. The smothering weight of despair began to settle over her when his voice caught her attention.

  “Think of it as advertising, unparalleled nationwide exposure. It may be hard to believe, but we get a ton of calls after each episode.”

  “Oh, I believe it!”

  Ben squeezed her hands. “Not complaints. People want to hire the vendors we feature, like the planner and the florist.”

  The thick fog of panic clouding her brain receded a little. “Really?”

  “Yes. Trust me, tonight could wind up to be the biggest opportunity you ever get.” His blue eyes, mere inches away from hers, radiated sincerity. She wanted to believe him, because frankly the alternative was unthinkable and ulcer inducing. And really, since Tracy and Seth signed a contract, what choice did she have?

  Ivy closed her eyes, took a second to regroup. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  “Sounds interesting. Always a good sign when a beautiful woman propositions me.” Ben doled out a slow, suggestive smile while at the same time his lids drooped to create the effect of bedroom eyes. It was undoubtedly a practiced look, and potent enough to bring any unsuspecting woman to her knees. Ivy saw the smile for what it was: a sucking vortex of charisma and sex appeal. One she would resist. Or at least would resist until he agreed to her terms.

  “I won’t hold up a giant sign saying ‘Wild Wedding Smackdown Sucks!’ during the ceremony if you agree to erase the footage of my fall. Honestly, Tracy and Seth have enough planned for tonight to give you lots of crazy outtakes. You don’t need me.”

  “Prove it. What could beat a beautiful woman somersaulting down the stairs?” Now his eyes sparked with the hint of a challenge.

  Ivy crossed her arms, accepting the challenge. “Okay. You probably know this from whatever they told you to win the stupid contest, but it’s an interfaith marriage. We’ve got both a rabbi and a priest, and if last night’s rehearsal is any indication, they can’t stand each other. Same goes for the families. It was like being caught in the middle of a turf war.”

  “Come on, how bad could it be?”

  “The rehearsal lasted three hours.” Ivy shook her head as she remembered the endless bickering. “They fought over everything. Where to stand. What order to stand in. Who goes first. The parents cursed, the grandparents yelled, a couple cousins got into a shoving match, and finally the happy couple joined in. Tracy actually threw her ribbon bouquet from the bridal shower at one of the readers and knocked his glasses off. It took me an hour to negotiate a truce about which side of the aisle to seat the bride’s family.”

  Ben gave a long, low whistle. “Sounds like a fun group. Would’ve been great to get on film. Doesn’t do me any good now. Maybe they got it all out of their systems. With my luck, they’ll be on their best behavior. I need a guarantee of something really big, something
our viewers will talk about for days.”

  She realized he truly had no idea of what was in store for tonight. As hard as it was to believe, Tracy must’ve kept a lid on her big secret. Delighted, Ivy stifled a grin and tried to look thoughtful. “Bagpiper in a kilt?”

  “Run of the mill.”

  “Bride and groom in a paddleboat?”

  “Decent, but not as good as you doing a header down the stairs.” He surged to his feet. “Sorry, but if you can’t bring anything better to the table, something with real shock value, we don’t have a deal.”

  She pursed her lips, took a beat. “How do you feel about a skydiver?”

  His mouth dropped open, then he shook his head slowly and raised a warning hand. “Don’t toy with me.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” His reaction was everything she’d hoped. And their quick back and forth was the most fun she’d had all week. Now the tables were turned. She was once more in control of the situation.

  “Seriously? A skydiver? What the hell for?” He sounded incredulous.

  “He’s bringing the rings.” An array of emotions washed across his face; excitement, amusement and disbelief. Giggling at his reaction, she jumped up. Her bruised knees sent up a protest, but after a quick wince she pushed the discomfort aside. Grabbing his hand, she pulled Ben over to the window. The majestic stone hall sat at the edge of a pond that bordered the Lincoln Park Zoo. “Do you see the dock for the paddleboats? If everything goes according to plan, he’ll land there.”

  “As landing strips go, this one doesn’t leave much room for error. What happens if he misses?”

  “Funny, that’s exactly what I wondered. I consulted a map of the zoo, and my best guess for an accidental landing is the zebra or kangaroo exhibit.”

  “Which means no chance of life-threatening injuries, but a damn good chance of a kangaroo chasing a parachute?” Ben grabbed Ivy by the shoulders and kissed her hard and fast on the lips. The kiss was more than a peck. She’d classify it as a smooch. Just long and firm enough to tell her this man knew how to kiss. Not quite long enough to make her head spin, but it did wake up every nerve ending between her pale pink toenails and the pearl studs in her ears. Of course above all else, it made her want more. To her dismay, he released her and spun back to the window, probably plotting camera angles.

  “It’s like Christmas and my birthday all wrapped up in one gigantic present.” The words tumbled out of him in a rush. “The skydiver’s enough to make my boss dance a jig. But the chances of something going wrong are huge, and if it does, the show’s fans will go crazy. I can’t believe this is happening on my last shoot!”

  His level of excitement surprised her. “Tracy must’ve told you she’d planned something exciting in order to win your contest and get on WWS.”

  “Had no idea. She didn’t have to qualify or anything. We pick the names out of a hat. What makes this show different is the couple lets us follow them on the honeymoon. You’d be amazed the way couples fall apart on their honeymoon, and we’re there to capture every tear, every thrown drink, and every night the groom winds up on the sofa of the bridal suite.”

  So much for happily ever after. “It sounds depressing.”

  Ben shrugged. “Can’t let it get to you. I mean, these people would get into it with or without the cameras. The divorce rate is still over fifty percent in this country.”

  Ivy swatted his arm. “Don’t use that word!” Did the man have no sense at all?

  His head snapped around. “What word?”

  “The D word.” He still looked mystified. “Divorce,” she said in a pointed whisper.

  “Why not? It’s a statistic, not an omen.”

  “Even if you aren’t superstitious, it seems flat-out rude to mention that word on a wedding day. This is the one day when the whole world revolves around their love. One beautiful, untarnished day when everyone puts their petty arguments to the side and concentrates on the magic of love.” Ben looked at her like she’d just sprouted wings.

  “You can’t really believe that load of crap,” he said flatly.

  Ivy was used to this reaction, but it still stung every time. “First of all, I believe it with every fiber of my being.”

  “Do you believe in the Tooth Fairy, too?”

  “Secondly,” she pressed on, despite his interruption, “it doesn’t matter if you or I believe it. It’s my job to give clients the perfect day. They have to feel the cartoon hearts floating overhead and doves carrying a happily-ever-after banner. Whether it’s an illusion or reality, they get to live that fantasy for eight hours.”

  Hands shoved deep in pockets, he held her steady gaze, considering. After a minute he nodded. “You’ve got a point. I bet you’re really good at your job.”

  “I try.” Ten years of hard work scrabbling her way up the competitive Chicago wedding ladder were wrapped up in those two words.

  “Well, for you, I’ll give it a shot. As of this moment, I’ll officially table my cynicism, my completely realistic view of relationships, and years of experience.”

  Wow. It was both surprising and sad how many pounds of emotional baggage weighed down that single sentence. His past must be littered with heartbreak and disappointment. And to Ivy, there was almost nothing sadder than a person who didn’t believe in true love. But this time her pity was overshadowed by annoyance at his condescending tone. “Don’t put yourself out on my account.”

  “No, I mean it. You’ve made quite the impression. I don’t want to be the big dark cloud on your perfect day.”

  She squinted up at him. “Really? No mocking? No snide comments behind my back to your camera guy? No barely veiled hostility aimed at the groom?”

  He spread his hands wide, the picture of innocence. “What can I say, Ms. Rhodes? You turned my day around with the possibility of an utter train wreck, then capped it off with a kiss. In my book, that means I owe you a favor. I figure a sunny disposition is the nicest way to repay you.”

  “You know you stole that kiss,” she grumbled. It still rankled how quickly he’d ended it.

  “Fair enough.” Ben edged closer, and Ivy automatically countered, which brought her flush against the window niche. He caged her in by resting his hands on the deep window sill. She was forced to arch her back in order to meet his eyes. The position thrust her breasts against the stiff lapels of his tux jacket. All the air in the room vanished, and her heart thudded. Without a doubt, Ben was back in charge, and she was merely along for the ride.

  “Next time will be different.”

  “How do you know? I mean,” she hastily corrected herself, “what makes you think there will be a next time?”

  He chuckled, and kept that sea-blue gaze locked on her. “Certain things in life are inevitable. Sunrise. Hunger. And my kissing you again. Something ignited between us the minute I picked you up. Don’t try to deny it.”

  Heat suffused Ivy’s face. Ben lifted his left hand to stroke the spot on her neck where her pulse fluttered rapidly. It was a light touch, and he used only a single finger to trace the path of her vein. It was one of the most erotic moments of Ivy’s life. The room, the wedding, the people banging glasses in the hallway disappeared. Her world shrank to a single patch of skin. And yet at the same time, she registered chills racing through her entire body. With a flutter of lashes her eyes closed.

  “Are you the wedding planner?” A harsh, accusing voice bellowed across the hall. Ivy’s eyes flew open. Ben’s expression was unreadable as he stepped back and turned to face the interloper. She pushed off the window sill with a deep breath.

  “Yes, I am. What can I do for you, sir?”

  A man resplendent in full Scottish dress hustled toward her. The chain on his sporran clattered with every step. His kilt swished in a very unmasculine fashion, tartan plaid trailing behind him. “You can give me my money. The wedding’s in less than two hours and I haven’t been paid yet. There’ll be no bagpipes down the aisle unless you pay me what I’m rightfully owed. Five hund
red dollars. In cash.”

  The last vestige of delicious romance left her system. In its place, Ivy donned a practiced, calming smile. A threat to halt the wedding, a demand for an exorbitant amount of cash she didn’t have—it was another average day at work.

  Chapter Two

  Meticulous planning will enable everything a man does to appear spontaneous.

  —Mark Caine

  Ollie ran in, camera at the ready on his shoulder. Ben waved his hand to indicate he should keep rolling and received a nod of acknowledgement. It didn’t surprise him that Ollie was hot on the trail of the unhappy bagpiper. The kid had great instincts, and could sniff out trouble brewing a mile away.

  “No stalling, now. You can’t treat me like this. I demand full payment immediately.” The man causing the ruckus was short, bald and full of righteous anger. He slipped in and out of a weak attempt at a Scottish accent every couple of words. The bagpipe cradled like a baby in his left arm was covered in a bright orange plaid. It clashed painfully with the red tartan over his shoulder. Ben wondered how obvious it would be if he slipped on his sunglasses to mute the effect.

  “Don’t worry, sir. I’m sure we’ll get everything straightened out.” Ivy’s tone was polite and soothing, her expression placid. Her calm under such an attack was amazing to behold. Ben had seen other wedding planners crumble under far less. She looked so unassuming in her pink dress, but the petite brunette clearly had a spine of steel.

  “There’s nothing to straighten out. I want my money. Period.”

  “If I could get your name…” Ivy’s voice dropped off as she led the man to a table in the center of the hall. Ben trailed behind, staying out of the shot but still close enough to hear everything. He didn’t want to miss a second of the show.

  “Robert Bruce.”

  Ben snorted. He couldn’t help himself. As producer, he was supposed to be objective and most of all, stay out of everything. But none of the wedding party was around, and it just slipped out. Unfortunately, it caught the attention of the already riled piper.