Friends to Lovers (Aisle Bound)

by Barth, Christi

  Friends to Lovers

  By Christi Barth

  Book three of Aisle Bound

  As florist and co-owner of a successful Chicago wedding planning business, Daphne Lovell has been there for the happiest days of other people’s lives. As for her own life? Well, it’s hard to be perfectly happy when you’re carrying a torch for your sexy, womanizing and oblivious best friend. So when the lights go out on New Year’s Eve, she seizes the opportunity to kiss him senseless.

  British expat Gibson Moore has a lot on his plate. The hotel he manages is being bought out, his family is crazy and someone just kissed him in the dark. When the lights go on, he searches the room, trying to find the mystery pair of lips. Only, he never thinks to ask the woman standing by his side. He’s shocked when he discovers that Daphne is the woman he’s been searching for. But Gib’s also eager to act upon the attraction for her he’s always fought to ignore.

  It takes trust to move from friends to lovers, and as Gib’s work situation worsens, he is no longer sure he can risk the friendship he relies on most. It’s up to Daphne to convince him that some things are worth fighting for...

  96,000 words

  Dear Reader,

  It’s possible I say this every year, but I love October. To me, this is the month that signals the start of a season of hot apple cider, evenings by the fire, and curling up on the sofa with a good book, dressed warmly in sweatpants and a comfy shirt and snuggled under my favorite fuzzy blanket. We at Carina Press can’t provide most of those things, but we can provide the good books, and this month we have more than a few good books!

  In Running Back, the highly anticipated sequel to Allison Parr’s new-adult contemporary romance Rush Me, Natalie Sullivan is on the verge of a breakthrough most archaeology grad students only dream of: discovering a lost city. Her research points to a farm in Ireland, but to excavate she needs permission from the new owner: the Michael O’Connor, popular NFL running back.

  If you’re like me, there are certain tropes in romance that you fall for every time. One of mine is the main theme of Christi Barth’s newest book, Friends to Lovers. (Gee, can you guess what it is?) Daphne struggles with revealing her longtime lust for Gib, sparking it all off with a midnight kiss on New Year’s Eve—only Gib doesn’t know it’s Daphne he’s kissed! Also in the contemporary romance category is First and Again by Jana Richards, which has a special place in my heart because this emotional story takes place in my home state of North Dakota.

  For months, this Red Cross head nurse has been aiding Allied soldiers caught behind enemy lines, helping them flee into the neutral Netherlands. It’s only a matter of time until she’s caught in Aiding the Enemy, a historical romance by Julie Rowe. If you’re a fan of Downton Abbey, be sure to check out the rest of Julie’s historical romances.

  We have two mysteries for readers to solve this month. British crime author Shirley Wells returns to the sleepy northern town of Dawson’s Clough with her popular Dylan Scott Mystery series in the next book, Deadly Shadows. And in Julie Anne Lindsey’s Murder by the Seaside, counseling is murder, but it’s never been this much fun.

  Erotic romance author Christine d’Abo brings us the story of Alice’s obsession with a brooding lawyer at her firm, which takes Alice on a journey of self-discovery through the rabbit hole and into the world of BDSM in Club Wonderland. Also this month, the Love Letters ladies, Ginny Glass, Christina Thacher, Emily Cale and Maggie Wells, round up five sizzling-hot stories to finish off their sexy stampede through the alphabet with Love Letters Volume 6: Cowboy’s Command.

  Edgar Mason is losing Agamemnon Frost despite everything they’ve been through—the passion, the torture, the heat. Frost’s fiancée Theodora is back, and Mason can feel his lover gravitating toward her. Every day he sees them together, it tears at his heart. Don’t miss Agamemnon Frost and the Crown of Towers, the conclusion to Kim Knox’s male/male historical science fiction trilogy.

  Because October is the perfect month for the paranormal, we have a wide selection of fantasy, urban fantasy and paranormal to share with you. In Jeffe Kennedy’s fantasy romance, Rogue’s Possession, neuroscientist Gwynn’s adventures in Faerie continue in the long-awaited sequel to Rogue’s Pawn. And in the sequel to Soul Sucker, a powerful magic user is stealing people’s faces in San Francisco, and empath Ella Walsh and shifter Vadim Morosov have been called in to investigate in Death Bringer by Kate Pearce. Also returning with another book in her Blood of the Pride series is Sheryl Nantus, with her paranormal romance Battle Scars.

  Combining futuristic fiction, fantasy and urban fantasy, Trancehack by Sonya Clark is a compelling cross-genre romance. In a dystopian future where magic is out in the open and witches are segregated, a high-profile murder case brings together a police detective and a witch with unusual powers that combine magic and technology. But dangerous secrets, a political cover-up, and the law itself stand between them. Don’t miss this exciting new world of witchpunk!

  Carina Press is pleased to introduce three debut authors this October. Science fiction erotic romance author Renae Jones gives us a Taste of Passion when lust strikes hard for Fedni, an empath who can taste emotion, but her off-worlder neighbor is horrified by the caste system that the former courtesan holds dear.

  Two urban fantasy authors debut with us this month. In Kathleen Collins’s Realm Walker, a realm walker hunts a demon intent on destroying both her and the mate who left her seven years ago. Also debuting in urban fantasy is Joshua Roots with his book Undead Chaos. When warlock Marcus Shifter performs a simple zombie beheading, he soon finds that the accidental framing of an innocent necromancer, falling in lust, and burning down a bar are just the beginning of his troubles.

  Regardless of whether you’re discovering these books in October or in the middle of summer, any time is the perfect time for reading, and I hope you enjoy all these titles as much as we’ve enjoyed working on them.

  We love to hear from readers, and you can email us your thoughts, comments and questions to generalinquiries@carinapress.com. You can also interact with Carina Press staff and authors on our blog, Twitter stream and Facebook fan page.

  Happy reading!

  ~Angela James

  Executive Editor, Carina Press

  www.carinapress.com

  www.twitter.com/carinapress

  www.facebook.com/carinapress

  Dedication

  For my husband, who started out as just a friend, and then transformed into so much more.

  Acknowledgments

  Hugs to the MRW Scribblers for their invaluable help. Don’t forget to notice that Gib’s slippers made it to publication! Gratitude to my beta readers; Eliza Knight, Lea Nolan, Joya Fields and Stephanie Dray, who heroically carved out the time to read this during the holidays. And thanks to my wonderful editor Angela James. She not only squelched my addiction to similes, but helped me turn this from a two-tissue ending to a pass-the-whole-box ending!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Te
n

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  In the hope of reaching the moon men fail to see the flowers that blossom at their feet

  ~ Albert Schweitzer

  Daphne Lovell loathed working on New Year’s Eve. Other days certainly vied for a spot near the top of her craptastic workday list. The day after a bout of food poisoning. Birthdays (which everyone ought to get off as a personal, government-sanctioned holiday). Any day when the coffee maker malfunctioned. As a wedding florist, she worked most holidays. Just gritted her teeth and focused on the hefty surcharge they levied on all Aisle Bound clients who scheduled events on holidays.

  But New Year’s Eve trumped them all. Most of the time she could handle standing on the edges of a wedding, watching everyone party like crazy around her. Party jealousy never bit her in the ass, because she rarely knew any of the wedding guests. Far better to collect her vases, head home and stretch out on the couch with a pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream.

  Except that the whole world—literally—partied on New Year’s Eve. Working this night felt like a punishment. Like Fate had grounded her for bad behavior. Daphne believed there was something magical about midnight on New Year’s Eve. Her father always said you should start the year the way you meant to continue. So most people did it right. Eating fabulous party food, drinking like crazy, spending the entire night with their favorite people and then kissing a loved one at the stroke of midnight.

  Tonight Daphne was managing two out of four and last time she checked, fifty percent wasn’t considered a passing grade. She looked around the crowded ballroom of the Cavendish Grand hotel at the drinking, laughing, thoroughly happy people and bit her lip to keep it from unfurling into a full-on pout. The DJ pounded a fun dance beat that had half the guests on their feet, and the delicious scent of spicy food hung in the air.

  Her best friend and business partner, Ivy Rhodes, swished up next to her in a silver taffeta dress with a cap-sleeved lace jacket. “I can’t thank you enough for working this wedding with me.”

  Daphne shrugged, making the ruffles on her gauzy white shirt flutter. “It didn’t feel right to ruin anyone else’s New Year’s Eve. We own Aisle Bound, so we should have to do the dirty work. And to be clear, this does qualify as dirty work. You owe me for this one. Big. You know how epically big the final battle scene was in Return of the King? Think twice as big.”

  “What if I promise you don’t have to dance with my handsy cousin Lewis at my wedding?”

  “Please—that’s a given. You love me too much to subject me to him. I’m going to have to mull the possibilities for a while.” Daphne drummed her fingers along her cheek. “There is a good chance it will involve you letting me choose all your songs the next time we do karaoke.” Ooh, that was good. Ivy loved to watch karaoke. She hated to sing, and did a side-splittingly bad job when shoved in front of a mic. Just worrying about the possibility would keep Ivy on edge for weeks.

  Ivy wrinkled her nose, then laughed. “I get it. Trust me, I knew before I begged you to help that there’d be a price to pay. But because this is a traditional Filipino wedding, there are just too many people for me to handle by myself.”

  No kidding. The elegant, gray, silk-covered walls of the ballroom were bursting at the seams with hundreds of guests. “I wanted to ask you about that. Why the heck are there forty-five people in the wedding party? That’s bigger than the last three royal weddings put together. I just about crippled myself wiring the boutonnieres for this one.” She flexed her hand, remembering the claw shape it had cramped into by day two of prep.

  “In addition to the usual bridesmaids and groomsmen, there are principal sponsors, coin sponsors, veil sponsors, candle—”

  Daphne cut her off with a flick of the wrist. “You’ve lost me already. I take it back. I don’t want to know. Esoteric details like that are why you’re the wedding planner and I’m not.”

  “True. But I am officially grateful you’re spending your New Year’s Eve here with me. And it isn’t so dire. Look at how sweet Gib was to throw us a party.”

  Gibson Moore was far from sweet. Polished, elegant, refined and swoon-worthily sexy, yes. A wicked lust-’em-and-leave-’em ladies’ man. He snared them without even trying. The combination of his upper-crust British accent, wavy brown hair and eyes the color of a tropical sea pulled women to him with the strength of a tractor beam. Gib lived in the moment, and when that moment was gone, so was whatever woman had been lucky enough to share a few hours, or at most, a few days with him.

  Because he happened to be one of her closest friends, Daphne saw past the womanizing exterior. She saw a man who embraced life. Unfortunately, no matter how many times she fantasized about him, that carpe diem spirit of his never led Gib to embrace her. Not as anything more than a fellow soccer fan, someone to drink beer with and laugh at cheesy action movies. Certainly not as a woman. Which frustrated her to no end.

  “Gib didn’t throw us a party,” Daphne clarified. “Don’t make him out to be all selfless. As hotel manager, he’s stuck overseeing this shindig well into the new year. I wouldn’t call opening up a conference room for us to hang out in as throwing a party.”

  More likely he recognized he wouldn’t be able to go to a party, so he brought the party to him. With Ivy and Daphne here already, it was easy for him to lure Ivy’s fiancé, Ben, into kicking back in front of a plasma screen with an unlimited supply of beer. As producer for a reality television series, Ben traveled so much that he jumped at any opportunity to spend time with Ivy. Even if that time turned out to be in ten-minute increments once every hour.

  “He did stock it with appetizers. You know how much you love those brie puffs.”

  True. Daphne couldn’t cram the oozy, creamy nuggets of deliciousness into her mouth fast enough. The chef at the Cavendish used to work at the White House. Daphne could hardly wait for her next chance to nip into their room and try whatever fresh delicacies he’d made for them. So far she’d also sampled crab claws, caviar-topped deviled eggs, two kinds of pâté and cherry peppers stuffed with prosciutto and provolone. “I appreciate the snacks. I definitely appreciate them being there for me a mere ten steps away from this wedding.”

  Ivy waggled her finger. Light from the multitiered crystal chandeliers ricocheted off the two-carat sparkler Ben had placed there to warn off all other men. “Plus, Gib has champagne for us to toast with at midnight.”

  Great. Ivy and Ben would be wrapped around each other tighter than moss on stone. Their friend Sam had promised to stop by for the big toast. He’d spent all day moving his fiancée, Mira, out of Daphne’s apartment and into his. So the two of them would be all lovey-dovey and in a lip-lock that lasted longer than it would take Daphne to drain her glass, refill it and guzzle another. All the while wondering why she didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight. Gib would undoubtedly have a lineup of at least five beautiful and eager contenders from tonight’s wedding. Heck, he’d probably find a way to kiss all five of them in the time it took the twinkly ball to drop in Times Square.

  With a swift inhale, Daphne pulled herself out of her pity party. Forced herself to look around the room a second time. Smiling, happy people in snazzy suits and colorful dresses surrounded them on all sides. The DJ spun toe-tapping music. Her centerpieces of lemon and peach roses mixed with two-toned orange-and-red lilies perfumed the air. Someone got hugged about every eight seconds under the glittering crystal chandeliers. How many people could say that about their working conditions?

  “You’re right. I’m glad
the six of us found a way to start the new year together. That’s what counts, right? We all work with people we adore and respect. I get to spend my days playing with flowers, and even manage to get paid for it. We’re in pretty good shape, overall.”

  The bride and groom swirled by in an impromptu waltz. They both grinned from ear to ear and waved at the women. “Benjie and Diwata look so happy.”

  “They’d better. We’re throwing them one hell of a party.” Ivy checked her watch, then checked the official itinerary for the night. When Aisle Bound planned a wedding, everything ran like clockwork. No matter what, thanks to the perfectionist/slightly anal retentive streak deeply ingrained in her friend. To forestall any raised eyebrows (like the time a few years ago when she’d lingered in the bathroom a whopping thirty seconds past the scheduled first toast), Daphne had made a point of synchronizing her watch with Ivy’s. And remembered the shrieking chaos of the bouquet toss was scheduled to happen in ten minutes.

  “I noticed. It’s crazy loud in here.”

  “There are a ton of Filipino superstitions about New Year’s Eve. We incorporated most of them. For example, they make as much noise as possible to scare away evil spirits. That’s why they keep banging on the gong.” Ivy pointed to the bowls of shiny purple grapes on every table. “You’re supposed to have a grape in your mouth at the stroke of midnight.”

  “Doesn’t that make it hard to kiss?”

  “Smart-aleck.” A vertical worry line creased Ivy’s brows and she stared into the distance as she pondered. “You’ve got a point. I didn’t check to see if a kiss at midnight is part of Filipino custom.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. Nobody expects you to orchestrate or skip a kiss. Kissing is organic. It either happens or doesn’t.”

  “Are you trying to make me feel worse? You know nothing at one of my weddings is organic. Every moment, every eventuality is ruthlessly planned in order to appear natural and fun.”