Proposal for the Wedding Planner

by Sophie Pembroke

  She would one day—that she was certain of. She had the tools and the knowledge she needed to be happy now. She knew she was enough just as she was—and she knew she needed a man who believed that too.

  After that everything would be easy. She hoped.

  ‘Laurel.’

  She spun on her heel at the sound of Dan’s voice, almost overbalancing until he caught her by the elbow.

  ‘I’ve said everything I need to say to you.’ She looked up into his eyes and swallowed, trying to keep any fledgling hope buried deep, where it couldn’t disappoint her again.

  ‘Then maybe it’s my turn to talk,’ Dan replied.

  Laurel waited.

  And waited.

  ‘Well?’ she said impatiently. ‘Are you going to? Because if not I really do have some more work I should be getting on with.’

  ‘I... This is hard for me, okay?’ Dan said. ‘I’m trying to find the right words.’

  Laurel blew out a long breath. ‘Maybe they don’t have to be the right words. Maybe you just have to talk to me.’

  ‘I love you,’ Dan said suddenly, and all that hope in her belly bloomed bright and strong.

  ‘That’s... What?’

  ‘I love you. And it’s crazy because I’ve only known you four days. And it’s stupid because I’ve given you no reason to believe me. And it’s terrifying because you could walk away right now and I wouldn’t even blame you. But I love you. And the thing is, I’m starting to think that I always will.’

  ‘I don’t... What changed?’ Laurel asked, shaking her head in confusion. ‘You said it was just an act. A game. You said it wasn’t real.’

  ‘I lied.’ He sighed and took her champagne flute from her. After taking a long gulp, he placed it on the table behind them and wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. ‘I was scared. Scared of what I felt and how I knew it would end. I...I always disappoint, Laurel. I’ve never once been enough for someone. And I couldn’t bear for that to happen with you. You deserve everything—every happiness you ever dream of. And I wanted to be the man to give that to you...I just didn’t believe I could.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now...I’m willing to try.’

  He swallowed so hard she could see his throat move, and she knew how difficult this must be for him, and loved him more for it.

  ‘Because you were right—I was so certain that everyone would leave me, choose someone else over me, that I never gave anyone the chance to stay. I never let anyone choose me.’

  ‘I would,’ Laurel whispered. ‘I’d choose you every time.’

  His eyes fluttered shut and he kissed her forehead. ‘I hope so. Because I realised today...when I saw you across the aisle... I’ve already chosen. It’s you for me, Laurel. Whether you stay or go—whether it lasts or it doesn’t. It’s not even a choice. You’re the one I love—the one I’ll always love. The one I’m meant to be with.’

  ‘So what is there to be scared about?’

  He gave a shaky laugh. ‘Are you kidding? Everything.’ He gazed down into her eyes. ‘But if you’re with me...it’s worth being scared.’

  Stretching up, Laurel kissed him, long and deep and with every bit of the love she felt for him. Smiling against her lips, Dan pulled her behind the column, away from the watching eyes of the wedding guests. She liked that. This wasn’t for them. They didn’t matter to her at all.

  All that mattered was that Dan was here and he was hers.

  ‘So, what happens now?’ she asked when they finally broke apart.

  Dan shrugged. ‘We start our own story. Here...there...wherever you want. I have faith that we can make it work.’

  ‘We can,’ Laurel agreed, nodding. ‘Our story. You know, I like that even better than my story.’

  ‘Good. Because I’ve heard it’s going to be an epic. One of those that just goes on and on and on...’

  ‘And does it have a happy ending?’ Laurel asked, smiling up at him.

  Dan smiled back and kissed her lightly once more. ‘The happiest,’ he promised. ‘For ever and after.’

  * * *

  New Year’s Day dawned bright and blue and breezy. Most of the wedding guests were still in bed—probably sleeping off the prodigious bar bill, Dan assumed. But not him. With one arm around Laurel’s waist he stood beside Eloise and Noah on the front steps of Morwen Hall and watched as Melissa and Riley climbed into the car that would take them to the airport and their honeymoon.

  ‘We’re really just here to make sure they’re actually going, aren’t we?’ Eloise said, raising her hand to wave.

  ‘Basically,’ Laurel agreed. ‘Are you looking forward to getting your hotel back?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Eloise said. ‘I’m starting to think I might have other ambitions beyond Morwen Hall.’

  ‘What about you, Laurel?’ Noah asked. ‘Are you looking forward to getting your life back?’

  Laurel grinned, and Dan couldn’t help but smile with her. ‘Actually, I’m looking forward to starting a whole new one.’

  ‘I know how that feels,’ Noah murmured, kissing Eloise’s cheek.

  ‘So, what are you going to do first?’ Dan asked. ‘With this brand-new life of yours.’

  ‘Honestly? I feel like I could sleep for a week,’ Laurel said, making them laugh.

  ‘A-List celebrity weddings are hard work, I guess?’ Noah said.

  ‘Very.’

  ‘I suppose that means you don’t fancy organising another one some time?’

  Eloise elbowed Noah as he spoke, and he put up his hands in self-defence.

  ‘What? Just asking. I mean, it never hurts to have the best in the business on your side, now, does it?’

  ‘Best in the business, huh?’ Laurel echoed. ‘I like the sound of that.’

  ‘And I’m not just saying that so you’ll take the job. When the time comes,’ he added quickly as Eloise glared at him.

  ‘You might have to get in line, you realise?’ Dan said, staring out at the beautiful blue sky as Riley and Melissa’s car disappeared around the corner into the trees. ‘I might have a wedding for her to arrange first.’

  ‘Might you, indeed?’ Laurel said. ‘And whose would that be?’

  ‘Ours,’ Dan said, hardly believing the word as he spoke it.

  But then he kissed her, and suddenly everything felt very real.

  ‘Was that a proposal?’ Laurel asked as they broke apart. ‘For real?’

  Dan smiled, as his future fell into place.

  ‘For real,’ he promised.

  Because reality with Laurel beat every story he’d ever heard hands-down.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed

  PROPOSAL FOR THE WEDDING PLANNER,

  make sure you read the first book in

  Sophie Pembroke’s

  WEDDING OF THE YEAR duet!

  SLOW DANCE WITH THE BEST MAN

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  A BRIDE FOR THE BROODING BOSS

  by Bella Bucannon

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  A Bride for the Brooding Boss

  by Bella Bucannon

  CHAPTER ONE

  LAUREN TAYLOR ALIGHTED from the taxi, smiling in surprise. A multi-storey glass and cement edifice had replaced the six-storey building with a bank at ground level she remembered from years ago.

  Anticipation simmered through her veins. A rush job. Urgent—which usually meant challenging.

  Her initial reaction to her employer’s Monday morning call had been to refuse. She had managed to squeeze in a much-needed week off and had planned on some ‘me’ time—seeing movies, reading in the park, aimless walking... The promise of an additional week on completion of the assignment, plus a bonus, had won her over. A few days of Adelaide in March wouldn’t be too hard to take.

  The flight delay at Sydney airport the next afternoon meant it was three o’clock by the time she’d booked into her hotel and caught a taxi to the address. A quick phone call to a brusque Matthew Dalton raised some apprehension but he was the one with the critical dilemma.

  Dalton Corporation’s reception area on the eighteenth floor suited the building. A patterned, tiled floor drew the eyes to a curved redwood desk and up to the company name, elaborately carved in black on a gold background. Sadly the lack of human presence, along with the almost complete silence, detracted from the impact. The three doors in her sight were all shut.

  Scrolling for the contact number she’d used earlier, she stopped at the sound of a crash from behind the second door along. Followed by a loud expletive in a woman’s voice.

  Lauren knocked and opened the door.

  A blonde woman stood leaning across a desk, her hands shifting through a pile of papers, a harassed face turned towards Lauren. A document tray and its previous contents lay scattered on the floor.

  ‘You want Mr Dalton.’ Uttered as a hopeful statement. ‘Sorry about this. I’m usually more organised. Last door on the left. Knock and wait. Good luck.’

  Her words heightened Lauren’s unease as she obeyed, instinctively smoothing down her hair before tapping on the door. The light flutter in her pulse at the raspy ‘Come in’ startled her. As did the unexpected allure in the deep guttural tone.

  * * *

  Without looking up, the man with a mobile held to his left ear gestured for her to enter and take the seat in front of his desk. Matthew Dalton was definitely under pressure. No jacket or tie, shirt unbuttoned at the top, and obviously raked through, thick chestnut-brown hair. He continued to write on a printed page in front of him, occasionally speaking in one-or two-word comments.

  Lauren sat, frowning at the oblique angle of his huge desk to the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows with an incredible view of the Adelaide Hills. Made of dark wood, it held only a desktop computer, keyboard, printer, land phone and stacked document trays. The only personal item was a plain blue coffee mug.

  The man who’d requested her urgent presence swung to his right, flicking through pages spread on the desk extension. His easy fit in the high-back leather chair with wide arms suggested made to measure. And he needed a haircut.

  She continued her scan, fascinated by the opulent differences from the usual offices where she was welcomed by lesser employees. From the soft leather lounge chairs by the windows to the built-in bar and extravagant coffee machine, this one had been designed to emphasise the power and success of the occupier.

  The down light directly above his head picked up the red tints in his hair, and the embossed gold on his elegant black pen. She shrugged—exclusive taste didn’t always equate with business acumen. If it did she might not be here.

  Reception had been bare and unmanned, the blonde woman agitated. How bad was the company’s situation?

  Normally tuning out sounds was an ingrained accomplishment. Today, nothing she tried quite prevented the gravelly timbre skittling across her skin, causing an unaccustomed warmth low in her abdomen. She steadied her breathing, mentally counting the seconds as they passed.

  Then the man she believed to be a complete stranger flicked a glance her way. Instantly, with a chilling sensation gripping her heart, she was thrown back ten years to that night.

  * * *

  The dinner dance after a charity Australian Rules football game organised by interstate universities and held here in Adelaide. Limited professional players were allowed and her parents insisted the whole family come over in support when her elder brother agreed to represent Victoria.

  The noisy function seemed full of dressed-to-kill young women draped over garrulous muscular males, many of whom twitched and pulled at the collars of their suits. Though only two or three years separated her from most of them, at sixteen it was a chasm of maturity and poise. Unfamiliar with the football scene and jargon, she blushed and stammered when any of them spoke to her.

  Escaping from the hot, crowed room, she found a secluded spot outside, at the end of the long balcony. Hidden by tall potted plants, she gazed over the river wishing she were in her hotel room, or home in Melbourne. Or anywhere bar here.

  ‘Hiding, huh? Don’t like dancing?’

  The owner of the throaty voice—too much enthusiastic cheering?—was tall. Close. Much too close. The city lights behind him put his face in shadow.

  She stepped back. The self-absorbed young men whose interests were limited to exercise, diet, sport, and the women these pursuits attracted held no appeal for her. Men like her brothers’ friends who teasingly came on to her then laughed off her protests. Never serious or threatening, merely feeding their already inflated egos. Shy and uncomfortable in crowds, with a tendency to blush, she was fair game.

  ‘I saw you slip out.’ She detected a faint trace of beer on his breath as he spoke. When he took a step nearer, causing her to stiffen, a fresh ocean aroma overrode the alcohol. Not drunk, perhaps a little tipsy.

  ‘We won, you should be celebrating. You do barrack for South Australia?’ Doubt crept into the last few words, the resonance telling her he’d be more mature, maybe by two or three years, than she was. So why seek her out when there were so many girls his age inside?

  ‘Y... Yes.’ How could one word be so hard to say? How come her throat dried up, and her pulse raced? And why did she lie when she didn’t care about the game at all?

  He leant forward. ‘I did kick two goals even if I missed out on a medal. Surely I deserve a small prize.’

  He was like all the others. Her disappointment sharpened her reply.

  ‘I’m sure you won’t be disappointed inside.’

  ‘But an elusive prize is much more rewarding, don’t you think?’

  Before she could take in air to answer, he gently covered her lips with his.

  And she hadn’t been able to take that breath. Hadn’t been able to move. Hadn’t been able to think of anything except the smooth movement of his mouth on hers.

  The urge to return the kiss—have him deepen the kiss—had shaken her. Terrified her. The quick kisses from the boys she knew were just being friendly had been gentle, nice. Never emotionally shattering.

  Why did she sigh? Why were her lips complying, pressing ag
ainst his, striving to be in sync? Until the tip of his tongue flicked out seeking entry and she panicked.

  Frantically pulling away, she fled past him to the safety of the packed ballroom and a seat behind her parents and other adults in a remote corner. As she drank ice-cold water to wet her dry throat, she realised all she could recall was a glimpse of stunning midnight-blue eyes as his head had jerked back into the light.

  * * *

  The same midnight-blue eyes that had fleetingly met hers a moment ago.

  Why was she so certain? She just knew.

  Would he recognise her? He’d had a drink or two and it had been dark. She finally had a reason to be thankful for her mother’s instructions to the hairdresser. Darker colouring with extensions woven into a fancy hairdo on top, plus salon make-up, had altered her appearance dramatically.

  She’d been a naive teenager who’d panicked and run from an innocent kiss. He’d been an experienced young man who’d have known scores of willing women since.

  Gratitude that she hadn’t seen his face flowed through her veins as she studied the man to whom she’d attributed so many different features over the years in her daydreams. If, along with those memorable eyes, she’d imagined high cheekbones, a square firm jaw and full lips, she doubted she’d have slept at all. Even his lashes were thicker and darker than she’d pictured.

  She dipped her head whenever he looked at her, wasn’t ready for eye-to-eye contact. Forced steady breathing quelled her inner trembling.

  Matt Dalton’s mind ought to be totally focused on the information he was receiving. Instead his eyes kept straying to the brunette sitting rigid on her seat, politely ignoring him. The one who’d caused a tightening in his gut when he’d glanced up at her.

  In an instant he’d noted the sweet curve of her cheek framed by shoulder-length light brown hair. If she hadn’t dropped her gaze, he’d also know the colour of her eyes.

  Shoot! He asked the caller to repeat the last two figures. Blocking her out, he carefully wrote them down. After ending the call, he clipped all the pages together, and dropped them into a tray.