Catch Him if You can (Accidentally Yours)

by Jennifer Shirk

  He swallowed. “Just that you’re… I mean… I know you won’t…”

  “Won’t what?”

  “You know, get any ideas that it could become more. Real. You’re like me in that respect. You’re not the commitment type. In fact, you’re the one woman in town—aside from Kinsley—who I feel completely safe to be around.”

  Safe. Meaning, he would have no temptation to date her for real. Nice.

  Not the commitment type. Translation, she wasn’t a woman anyone would want to commit to. Ooh, even better yet.

  She inwardly cringed and let both those things sit on her tongue like a fine French wine before answering. Wade was absolutely right, of course, on both counts. But being right didn’t make his words sting any less, and she willed back the tears threatening to break.

  “Wade, tell those ladies how you feel and you’ll be fine,” she said quietly.

  “No, I won’t be fine. I’ve tried. I think they think they’re looking out for me and Kinsley, since…well, since our parents are gone.”

  She almost cracked at that. After all, she wasn’t heartless. No, Colin hadn’t completely ripped out her heart. But she really didn’t have time to dally in Wade’s love life when her business needed her undivided attention at the moment. She glanced down at her coffee, which was probably iced by now, and shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, Wade,” she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes even Doctor Who has to face his enemies alone.”

  His face lit up. “You watch the show?”

  Every Sunday afternoon while she folded clothes, since he’d told her how great the TV show was. Not that his ego needed to know that or the fact that she’d been hooked ever since.

  She smiled at him. “Just a lucky guess. I really do have to go.”

  “Fine,” he snapped, and ran a rough hand through his dark hair. “Abandon me. Feed me to those gray-haired, denture-wearing wolves. For your information, we are officially fake broken up now.”

  “I’ll try to survive,” she said with a laugh, and then resumed her walk back to the office. Sadly enough it really was too bad she couldn’t help Wade out. That short encounter in the coffee shop with him as his fake girlfriend was the longest and probably best relationship she had in years.

  Maggie’s face lit up when Arden walked back into the office. “What took you so long?” she asked. “I could have gone to Columbia, picked the beans, flown back, and ground them myself in less time.”

  Arden arched an eyebrow as she placed the coffee cups in the microwave. “Wow, I’ve never seen this decaffeinated side to you before, Mag. You’re almost as prickly as Kinsley.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m not that bad,” she protested, but when the microwave beeped, she lunged for it, yanking out her coffee and raising it to her lips like a starving man would a double cheeseburger.

  Arden smirked as she nudged her out of the way. “Right. You’re not that bad at all.”

  Maggie blushed. “That’s why I always schedule appointments with clients in the afternoon. I’m fully running on high-octane fuel by then.”

  “And sugar, too?” Arden said, picking up the bag of muffins and dangling it in front of her.

  “Oh yes! Definitely sugar.” Maggie grabbed the bag and stuck her face in it, deeply inhaling the aroma. “I do love this job.” She sighed.

  Arden chuckled. She loved her job, too, which is why she had to bring her “A game” in full force by the time Milena and her mother arrived for their appointment at two. This wedding meant everything to Arden and her business. The runaway groom she hadn’t seen coming, but this was one thing she could control. And she wouldn’t screw it up.

  Arden checked the wall clock. One hour before do-or-die time. Her nerves were beginning to get the better of her, and her appetite shriveled away like a freshly cut flower left out in the sun too long. She scanned the meeting room, checking to make sure everything was in place and neat. First impressions and all that.

  “Did you get out all the portfolio books?” she asked Maggie. “I’m thinking we should concentrate on our top three weddings, and then I’ll go into our clientele list. I already mentioned this to Jessica, but I actually got contact info for some top makeup artists in New York thanks to Kinsley’s fiancé, Damon. They’d be totally willing to come down to make up the bride and entire bridal party at a discounted price if the client was interested.”

  Maggie stopped chewing. “Wow. That’s really great. Now I wish I were getting married, don’t you?” She laughed, then went back to stuffing what was left of the gingerbread muffin she was holding into her mouth.

  Arden gave her a half-hearted smile. “Sure. You bet.”

  That was a bald-faced lie. She did not wish to get married. Ever. However, she could never admit that to anyone she worked with, not even her closest friends. What kind of wedding planner didn’t wish to get married? That was like being a baker and hating sugar. But there it was. The irony was hardly lost on her, which was why she kept it a secret.

  The door to her boutique suddenly opened and two women—one dressed in a black fur coat and one in a more subdued but attractive winter-white dress coat—walked in and stood in her entryway. The older woman glanced around with her nose wrinkled as if she’d smelled moldy cheese.

  Since Maggie still had a muffin in her mouth and crumbs all over her hands, Arden quickly walked over to them, extending a clean hand. “Hello, ladies, I’m Arden Pearson,” she said smoothly. “Welcome to Beach Brides. How many I help you?”

  The older-looking woman removed her designer sunglasses, and Arden recognized her immediately as her two o’clock appointment—who had arrived a lot sooner than expected. “Hello, Ms. Pearson,” the woman said in a frosty tone. “I’m Elizabeth Swenson and this is my daughter, Milena. I believe she called earlier today to set up an appointment with you.”

  Arden was quick to place her professional mask and gave the women a pleasant, unflappable smile as if they hadn’t caught her off guard at all. “Of course. So nice to meet you. My assistant, Maggie, will be happy to take your coats. Please follow me into my office where we can be more comfortable.”

  She turned with raised eyebrows for Maggie, then led them to a contemporary rectangular table flanked by two light-gray leather chairs. Arden sat in the black one across from them and gestured for them to do the same. As she had requested, her assistant had placed their three best wedding portfolios on the table, so the women could get an idea of the work Arden had done and could do for them. She also made sure to have a file of laminated contact sheets separated by category at her fingertips, in case they should ask.

  The daughter flipped her long, dark hair off her shoulder, her gaze direct and open. “Ms. Pearson, I’ll be honest. I don’t know what I want for my wedding. I need guidance. It has to be classic, yet…different.”

  Arden nodded. She had heard similar requests from brides before. Plus, the concept of wedding planning could be overwhelming for most, let alone a minor celebrity. “That’s one of many things you won’t have to worry about if you sign with me. I follow a designer approach and will have you fill out a questionnaire so I get a sense of your style, what colors you like and don’t like, your budget, as well as a couple of personality quizzes. My turnaround is fairly quick once you fill out the form. I usually come up with a few different proposals. From those, we can then play around and tweak them with your groom or whomever you choose to help you. That’s really the fun part for you, because you might discover some things you’ve never seen or even thought of before.”

  Milena’s cherry-glossed lips stretched into a beautiful smile. “That sounds perfect.”

  Arden grinned and practically performed a high-step touchdown celebration in her head. This was it. She had a good feeling about this bride. No doubt in her mind she would sign. Her business’s reputation would be saved.

  “Not so fast,” the mother interrupted like thunder booming on a sunny afternoon. “It’s not quite perfect yet. What about your
list of contacts?”

  “Mother,” her daughter protested. “Please.”

  “Hush, dear. You need the best of everything, from dress to cake”—she turned and pinned ice blue eyes on Arden—”to wedding planner. May I see your contact list?”

  Arden dipped her chin politely, curbing the butterflies that took flight in her belly. Again, nothing she hadn’t gone up against in dealings with mothers of the brides before, but she hadn’t had so much riding on one, either.

  “Of course, Mrs. Swenson,” she said. She picked up the folder and took out a contact list of bakeries, dress designers, and reception banquets, handed it to the older woman, and then hoped she would like what she saw. “Those are the lists of companies we’ve had the best relationships and results with, however, if there is someone not on the list that you’d prefer to use, I would be more than willing to reach out to them.”

  The older woman’s gaze tore over the contact sheets with a blasé expression. “I see you’ve worked with Andre Zahan. He’s my favorite pastry chef,” she said, sounding almost begrudging.

  Arden let out a slow breath. Thank goodness for that. Andre wasn’t exactly Arden’s favorite person to work with, but he did make beautiful wedding cakes.

  Milena began to squirm as her mother continued to read over the lists like an attorney would a prenuptial contract. Arden was beginning to sweat. Finally Elizabeth looked up and nodded approvingly as she handed back the sheets. “Very impressive, Ms. Pearson.”

  Her daughter’s posture relaxed, and even Arden managed a smile through her dizzying relief. “Thank you, Mrs. Swenson. Coming from you that means a lot.”

  The daughter reached for a portfolio book and began leafing through it. Arden was just about to offer them a bottle of water when Mrs. Swenson narrowed her eyes. “Ms. Pearson, I’m sure you understand that this is going to be a high-profile wedding, considering who my husband is.”

  Arden nodded. “Of course.”

  “We can’t have any bad press, if you know what I mean,” she added pointedly.

  Arden swallowed. Yes. She knew exactly what the woman meant. No humiliating newspaper articles with runaway grooms in the headlines. Check and check.

  “Oh, Mother,” her daughter said with a laugh. “Vance is not going to run out on me.”

  Don’t be too sure, Arden wanted to blurt, and quickly promised herself to say a dozen Our Fathers later on in prayerful thanks for keeping her big mouth shut. Just because Arden’s own groom ran out on her and her client’s groom ran out on his bride-to-be didn’t mean that kind of stuff was a regular occurrence. A rarity for sure. She knew that. However, it was good to keep an eye out for any signs just to be on the safe side.

  Mrs. Swenson cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean that, Milena. We want to make sure we don’t make any unnecessary headlines. We need a wedding planner who understands that and much more.” She cocked her head at Arden for a few seconds. “Ms. Pearson, may I ask you something personal?”

  She swallowed. “Of course.”

  “Are you married?”

  Startled by the question, Arden sat up straight. “Oh, uh, no. I’m not.”

  “Were you ever married?”

  Arden glanced to the daughter, who looked as surprised by her mother’s questioning as she was, and shook her head. “Well, no, but—”

  “Then how can you ever presume to know what a bride-to-be wants or is feeling during this time?”

  Arden pasted on a patient smile. “Mrs. Swenson, trust me. I understand exactly what your daughter is going through.”

  Mrs. Swenson let out a delicate, unconvinced sniff.

  “I’m very good at my job, ma’am. I’ve been handling weddings for over five years now. Plus, I was engaged, too.” Ugh. Why had she let that one slip?

  Milena’s eyes widened. “You were engaged? Oh wow. What happened?”

  Arden stilled, her mind in a buzz. Admitting she’d been left wilting at the altar on her wedding day like month-old cabbage would hardly leave the Swensons begging to sign with her. And the last thing she felt like doing was opening up about the worst day of her life to total strangers. So before she could think better on it, her lips parted and out flew, “Did I say I was engaged? I meant am.” She swallowed. “I…am engaged.”

  Well done, Arden. You’ve now sunk to a new low in your life.

  Their eyebrows shot sky high. “You’re engaged?” Milena and her mother asked.

  Arden frowned. Why did they both have to look and sound so shocked? “Um, yes.” She cleared her throat. “Just engaged, actually.” Literally. In a way.

  Mrs. Swenson’s lips spread out in a gesture that almost resembled a smile. “That’s wonderful, dear. How perfect.”

  Arden blinked. “Is it?” She shook her head. “I mean, yes! Yes. It is wonderful.” But why perfect?

  Mrs. Swenson looked at her daughter and nodded. “I appreciate the fact that you really are sympathetic to my daughter’s needs and what she’s experiencing. It’s very comforting to me.”

  Arden let out a relieved smile. “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”

  “What’s his name?” Milena asked.

  Arden’s smile froze. “Whose name?”

  Mrs. Swenson let out an exasperated breath. “Your fiancé’s name? You do know it, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know my fiancé’s name.” Arden let out a fake laugh as she wiped her sweaty palms on her dress pants. “What kind of woman doesn’t know her fiancé’s name?”

  Oh, but she knew the kind of woman.

  The kind of woman who didn’t actually have a fiancé…

  Unnerved and beyond sick that this account was about to slip through her fingers, her mind began to race. She needed this wedding. One look at Milena’s hope-filled face and Arden completely snapped. She needed a fiancé name. She needed—

  Wade Roberts.

  Yes, Wade. Of course. She’d blame lack of caffeine, her encounter as Wade’s fake girlfriend earlier, and maybe half a dozen other lame reasons she’d think of later on, but as of right then and there, he was her one saving grace.

  “I, uh, met my boyfriend, Wade, a while ago.” Back in high school, actually. “And he proposed not long after.” Sort of. More like Wade proposed a plan for her to pretend to date him, which she had flatly turned down.

  Oh, Lord. Things really escalated from just an hour ago. She hoped Wade would find it just as amusing and still wanted her help.

  Milena clasped her hands together. “Ooh, that’s fantastic! Isn’t it fantastic, Mother?”

  Mrs. Swenson gave Arden a long, bland, assessing look before responding. “Yes. I suppose that does change things a bit. But I hope your wedding planning doesn’t interfere with my daughter’s.”

  “Absolutely not, ma’am. Don’t worry. The client always comes first. Plus, I have a very understanding fiancé.” Most likely because he doesn’t exist, but that’s beside the point.

  Arden took a steadying breath to slow her heart rate. It felt as if it was pounding against her rib cage, wanting to break free of her chest and announce to the room what a liar-liar-pants-on-fire she was.

  “Mother,” Milena said, “I feel comfortable here with Arden.” She glanced at Arden. “May I call you Arden?”

  “Y-yes, please do.” Her smile was so tight, her cheeks were about to crack off like chiseled rock. She didn’t feel good about lying, but now that she had, she was trapped in it. Convincing herself she was desperate and that she was the absolute perfect wedding planner choice for Milena Swenson only made her feel marginally better.

  “Great, and you can please call me Milena. I’m so excited to begin working with you. I’d love to see what you have planned for your own wedding.”

  My own wedding? “We, um…don’t have any real plans, since we didn’t set a date yet.” Or officially get engaged. Or officially date for that matter. In fact, she was pretty sure Wade Roberts barely tolerated their friendship. What a mess.

  “It would be great
if your fiancé could be here when I bring my fiancé, Vance, for the consultation.”

  Arden’s ears rang from the alarm bells going off in her head. “Be…here?” she asked, hoping she didn’t look as horrified at the suggestion as she felt about it.

  “Yes. You know how men can be during the planning stages. They don’t want to be involved, but they need to be involved. If Vance knows another man will be there to commiserate with, he’ll be so relieved,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Well, I don’t know… Wade’s schedule is pretty busy.”

  “But he has to be there,” Milena said with a hard frown. “Isn’t your job to create less stress for the bride?”

  “I—”

  “Ms. Pearson,” Mrs. Swenson interrupted, obviously not wanting to go the personal route like her daughter. “This is my daughter’s wedding we’re talking about and she should have what she wants. Also, please keep in mind, she really needs someone who not only is on the top of her game in planning weddings, but is someone we can all trust as well.”

  Trust. Oh, lawdy. She could feel herself on the verge of a panic attack. “I completely understand,” she croaked. “I’ll make sure he’s here when your fiancé is here, Milena.” Somehow…

  Mrs. Swenson nodded as she pulled out her checkbook. “Then you’re hired.”

  Milena let out a squeal of delight as Arden got to her feet none too steadily. Arden needed air. Now. And maybe a little chocolate. And a good slap in the face for good measure. But mostly, she needed a fiancé.

  “I’ll be right back with the questionnaire and the contract for you to sign,” she told them before blindly walking through the door.

  Once outside her office, Arden leaned against the wall, fearing anxiety-induced projectile vomiting was imminent.

  Relax. This is good. You did it. You just saved your business. You just need a fiancé, that’s all. You told a harmless lie. Nothing criminal. Everything will be fine.

  Yeah, everything will be fine—as soon as her clients left and she could make a little phone call. To propose to her recent ex-fake boyfriend.