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She empathized with his pain. She felt the same way about her mother. Perhaps empathy was why she found him so easy to talk to. “I’ve found parents often see what they want to see. That addresses the exposure...what do you have against the role of best man?”
“I hate weddings. The fancier the event, the more I detest them. There’s something about the pomp and circumstance that just screams fake to me.” He licked his spoon and set the crystal dish aside. “No offense.”
No offense? He’d just slammed everything she stood for. Why should she be offended?
And he wasn’t done. “It’s like the couple needs to distract the crowd from the fact they’re marrying for something other than love.”
“You don’t believe in love?” It was one thing for her to question her belief in what she was doing and another for someone else to take shots at it.
“I believe in lust and companionship. Love is a myth best left to romance novels.”
“Wow. That’s harsh.” And came way too close to how she felt these days.
The way his features hardened when he voiced his feelings told her strong emotion backed his comment. Kind of at odds with his family dynamic. The Sullivans were touted as one of the All-American families going back for generations. Long marriages and one or two kids who were all upstanding citizens. They ranked right up there with the Kennedys and Rockefellers.
The attendants came through the cabin collecting trash and dirty dishes. They offered turndown service, which Lindsay turned down. She still had work to do.
“Just let us know when you’re ready.”
Across the way Zach also delayed his bed service and got the same response. Once the attendants moved on, he leaned her way.
“Now you know you can trust me, are you ready for me to work on your spreadsheet? I’d like to do it before I start my movie.”
“Oh. Sure.” Could she trust him? Lindsay wondered as she pulled out her tablet. Just because she knew who he was didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Too charming for her peace of mind. And a total flirt. “Do you want to do it on mine or should I send it to you?”
“Little Pixie, I’d like to do yours.” His gaze ran over her, growing hotter as it rolled up her body. Her blood was steaming by the time his gaze met hers. “But since I have to work, you should send it to me.”
“It’ll do you no good to flirt with me.” She tapped in her password and opened her spreadsheet. “What’s your email?” She keyed in the address and sent it. “This wedding is too important to my career for me to risk getting involved with the best man.”
“Oh, come on. The best man is harmless.” Zach had his laptop open. “Got it. He’s shackled for the whole event.”
“The best man is a beast. His mind is all wrapped up in the bachelor party and strippers. He feels it’s his duty to show the groom what he’ll be giving up. And more than half the time he’s on the prowl for some action just to remind himself he’s still free, whether he is or not.”
Zach flinched. “Wow. That’s harsh.”
Oh, clever man. “With good cause. I have a strict ‘no fraternizing with the wedding party—including guests’—policy for my company and the vendors I work with. But, yeah, I’ve had to bolster a few bridesmaids who took it too far and expected too much and went home alone. Or refer them back to the bride or groom for contact info that wasn’t shared.”
“That’s a lot of blame heaped on the best man.”
“Of course, it’s not just the best man, but in my experience he can be a bad, bad boy.”
“It’s been a long time since I was bad.”
“Define long.”
He laughed.
“Seriously, I just want you to rewind the conversation a few sentences and then say that again with a straight face.”
His gaze shifted from his laptop to make another slow stroll over her. Jacking up her pulse yet again.
He needed to stop doing that!
Unremorseful, he cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not saying I don’t go after what I want. But I’m always up front about my intentions. No illusions, no damages.”
Sounded like a bad boy to her.
“Well, you have fun, now. I’m here to work.”
He shook his head as he went back to keying commands into his computer. “All work and no play makes Ms. Reeves a dull girl.”
“I’m not being paid to have fun.” And that was the problem right there—the one she’d been struggling with for nearly a year.
Her work wasn’t fun anymore.
And the cause wasn’t just the disillusionment she suffered in her love life. Though that ranked high on the motive list. She’d started feeling this way before Kevin had come back into her life. Instead of being excited by the creative endeavor, she’d gotten bogged down in the details.
Maybe it was Hollywood. Believing in the magic of happily-ever-after got a little harder to do with each repeat customer. Not to mention the three-peats. And the fact her mother was her best customer. Hopefully, husband number six would be the charm for her.
Seriously, Lindsay crossed her fingers in the folds of her skirt. She truly wished this marriage lasted. She liked Matt and he seemed to get her mom, who had the attention span and sense of responsibility of a fourteen-year-old. There was nothing mentally wrong with Darlene Reeves. She could do for herself. She just didn’t want to. Darlene’s dad had treated her like a princess, giving her most everything she wanted and taking care of all the little details in life. He’d died when she was seventeen and she’d been chasing his replacement all her life.
She’d had Lindsay when she was eighteen and then she learned to get the wedding ring on her finger before they lost interest. In between love interests, Lindsay was expected to pick up the slack.
She loved her mother dearly. But she loved her a little easier when she was in a committed relationship.
“Did you fall asleep on me over there?”
His question called her attention to his profile. Such strong features—square jaw dusted with stubble-defined cheekbones, straight nose. He really was beautiful in a totally masculine way. Too much temptation. Good thing her policy put him off limits.
“No. Just going over what I need to do.”
“Perfect timing then.” He swirled his finger and hit a single key. “Because I just sent your file back to you.”
“So soon?” She reached for her tablet, excited to try the new program. The file opened onto a picture of circles in the form of a rectangle. Each circle was numbered. She’d refine the shape once she viewed the venue. She ran her finger across the page and as it moved over a circle names popped up showing who was seated at the table.
“Cool. How do I see everybody?”
“You hit this icon here.” He hung over his chair, reaching across the aisle to show her. He tried showing her the other features, but his actions were awkward. Being left-handed, he had to use his right hand to aid her because of the distance between the seats.
“This is ridiculous.” Unsnapping her seat belt, she stood. “Do you mind if I come over there for a few minutes while we go over this?”
“Sure.” He stood, as well, and stepped aside.
Standing next to him she came face to loosened tie with him. She bent her head back to see him and then bent it back again to meet his gaze. “My goodness. How tall are you?”
“Six-four.”
“And the prince?”
“Six-one.” Long fingers tugged on a short dark tendril. “Does this brain never stop working?”
“Not when I get a visual of a tall drink of water standing next to a shot glass.”
“I’m not quite sure what that means, but I think there was a compliment in there somewhere.”
“Don’t start imagining things at fifty thousand feet, Sullivan. We’re a long way from help.” She tugged on his blue-pinstriped tie. “You can ditch this now. Was dinner a formal affair?”
The light went out of his eyes. He yanked the tie off and stuffed it in his pants’ pocket. “It’s always formal with my parents.”
She patted his chest. “You did your duty, now move on.”
“Good advice.” He gestured for her to take the window seat.
She hesitated for a beat. Being trapped in the inside seat, surrounded by his potent masculinity, might be pushing her self-control a little thin. But his computer program blew her mind. From the tiny bit she’d seen, it had the potential to save her hours, if not days, of work.
“Ms. Reeves?” His breath wafted over her ear, sending a shiver racing down her spine. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” She realized he’d been talking while she fought off her panic attack. “Ah...hmm.” She cleared her throat to give herself a moment to calm down. “Why do you keep calling me by my last name?”
“Because I don’t know your first name,” he stated simply.
Oh, right. The flight attendants had used their last names. The prince had given her Zach’s name and then she’d read it on her spreadsheet.
“It’s Lindsay.”
A slow grin formed, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Pretty. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”
So obvious, yet the words still gave her a bit of a thrill. She pressed her lips together to hide her reaction. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“What?” All innocence.
“Please. That line is so old I think I heard it in kindergarten.”
She expected to see his dimple flash but got an intent stare instead. “It’s not a line when it’s true.”
A little thrill chased goose bumps across her skin. Oh, my, he was good.
She almost believed him.
Shaking her head at him, at herself, she slid past him and dropped into the window seat.
He slid into his seat, his big body filling up the small space. Thankfully they were in first class and a ten-inch console separated their seats, giving her some breathing space. Until he flicked some buttons and the console dropped down.
“That’s better.”
For who? She leaned away as he leaned closer. Just as she feared, she felt pinned in, crowded. When he dropped the tray down in front of her, the sense of being squeezed from all sides grew stronger. Not by claustrophobia but by awareness. His scent—man and chocolate—made her mouth water.
“So is it easy for you?” He half laughed, going back to their previous conversation. “To move on?”
“It’s not, actually. My mom problems are probably just as bad as or worse than your parent problems. Yet, here I am, jetting off to Italy.”
Mom’s words, not hers. Darlene couldn’t understand how Lindsay could leave and be gone for a month when Darlene’s next wedding was fast approaching. It didn’t matter that Lindsay had booked this event well before Darlene got engaged or that it was the wedding of the year—perhaps the decade—and a huge honor for Lindsay to be asked to handle it.
“I doubt it.”
“Really? My mother is my best customer.”
“Oh-hh.” He dragged the word out.
“Exactly. Soon I’ll be walking her down the aisle to husband number six.”
“Ouch. Is she a glutton for punishment?”
“Quite the opposite. My mother loves to be in love. The minute a marriage becomes work, it’s the beginning of the end. What I can’t get her to understand is that you have to work on your marriage from day one. Love needs to be fostered and nourished through respect and compromise.”
“Honesty, communication and loyalty are key.”
“Yes!” She nudged him in the arm. “You get it. Maybe you won’t be such a bad best man, after all.”
He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Thanks.”
“Anyway. I can waste a lot of time worrying about Mom or I can accept that it’s her life to live. Just as my life is mine to live.” She didn’t know why she was sharing this with him. Her mother’s love life wasn’t a secret. Far from it. But Lindsay rarely talked about her mother. “Until the next time she comes crying on my shoulder, I choose the latter.”
“At least she lets her suckers off the line.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He ran a hand around the back of his neck, loosening tight muscles. “It’s hard to let my parents just be when they keep harping on me to join the campaign trail.”
“They want you to run for office?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m to stop messing around with my little hobby and turn my mind to upholding the family name by running for the next open seat in congress.”
“Hobby? Didn’t I read an article that your company just landed a hundred-million-dollar government contract to upgrade electronic security for the military?”
“You did.” While he talked he opened the seating arrangement program. “And between that contract and Antonio selling me his share of the business, I’ve met a goal I set the day I opened my business.”
Clearly, resignation overshadowed pride, so she ventured, “You exceeded your father’s net worth?”
He shifted to study her. “So you’re psychic as well as a wedding planner?”
“When you work with people as closely as I do, you get to know how they think.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s an impressive accomplishment.”
The Sullivans came from old money made from banking and transportation. Their political dynasty went back several generations. “Your parents must be proud of you.”
