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Leo got up to pull out a chair for her on the opposite side of the table. She took the opportunity to kiss him on the cheek, party-girl air-kiss style—except it wasn’t like any air-kiss he’d ever had—and he’d had plenty. It was a smacking, relishing kiss. Not the kind of kiss to slap on a person you barely knew.
Oblivious to his momentary shock, Sunshine tossed her trench coat carelessly onto a nearby chair, sat, and beamed up at him. ‘Did you hear? They’ve set the date. October twentieth. So we’ve got two months. A spring wedding. Yay!’
Yay? Who the hell said ‘yay’? Leo returned to his seat. ‘Not much time, but doable.’
‘Oh, it’s oodles of time,’ Sunshine assured him airily. ‘So! I’ve made a list of everything we need to do, and now we can decide who does what, give each task a deadline, and go from there.’
‘List?’ Leo repeated the word, apprehensive. He liked lists. He worked well with lists. The haphazard approach to life of his wastrel and usually wasted parents had made him a plan-crazy list junkie. But this was a simple dinner he could organise with his eyes closed while he whisked a chocolate soufflé.
For once in his life he didn’t need a list.
‘Yes.’ She reached down beside her to where she’d dumped the silver leather bag she’d been swinging when she walked over and pulled out a dazzling chartreuse folder. She removed some paper, peeled off two pages and held them out to him. ‘Your copy. I’m actually not really into lists,’ she confessed—surprise, surprise. ‘So it may need some work.’
He looked at the first page. At the big, bold heading: The Marriage Celebration of Jonathan and Caleb, October 20th.
Seeing the words was like a punch to the solar plexus. It was real. Happening. Imminent. His baby brother was getting married.
What were the odds? Two Aussie guys who’d never met in their own country moved separately to New York, met at a random party, and—bang!—happy-ever-after.
It didn’t matter that Leo didn’t know Jonathan, because Jonathan made Caleb happy. It didn’t matter that the ceremony was taking place on the other side of the world, because the place was just logistics. It didn’t matter that their marriage was only going to be legally recognised in a handful of countries, because they knew what it meant wherever they were.
Leo wondered if he would have had more luck meeting the love of his life if he were gay. Because it sure wasn’t happening for him on his side of the sexuality fence. The succession of glossy glamour-pusses who seemed to be the only women that came his way were certainly lovely to look at—but they didn’t eat, and they didn’t occupy his thoughts for longer than it took to produce a mutual orgasm.
He wanted what Caleb had. The one. Someone to get into his head, under his skin, to intrigue and dazzle and delight him. Someone who burrowed into his core instead of bouncing off his shell. Someone to belong to. And to belong to him.
He thought back to his last failure—beautiful, talented singing sensation Natalie Clarke. She’d told him on their second date that she loved him. But nobody fell in love in two dates! Nope—what she’d loved was the concept of Leo the celebrity chef. She’d wanted them to be part of ‘the scene’. And who said ‘the scene’ with a straight face? He couldn’t think of anything worse than ‘the scene’...except maybe her predilection for snorting cocaine, because apparently everyone on ‘the scene’ did it.
In any case, she was a relentless salad-with-dressing-on-the-side type. And she liked playing her own cheesy love songs in the bedroom way too much.
With a repressed shudder he brought his mind back to the present and ran his eyes down the list.
Budget
Wedding Party
Master of Ceremonies
Venue
Menu
Alcohol
Guest List
Invitations
Flowers
Lighting
Music
Cake
Clothing
Shoes
Hair and Make-up
What the hell...? Why did that need a subheading?
Gift Registry
Photographer
Videographer
Wedding Favours
Order of Proceedings
Toasts and Speeches
Printing
Seating Plan
Each item was bullet-pointed with a little box that could be ticked, and accompanied by questions, comments and suggestions.
Good thing she wasn’t into lists!
Sunshine must have noticed the stunned look on Leo’s face, because she asked, ‘Have I screwed it up?’
‘This is...’ he started, but words actually failed him.
‘Exciting?’ Sunshine suggested, looking as if she were about to celebrate Christmas, her birthday and the wedding all at once.
‘Comprehensive,’ Leo corrected. He ran a hand across his scalp. Her eyes followed his hand. She was frowning suddenly. He wondered what was going through her mind.
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it. Closed it. Sighed.
Then, ‘So!’ she said. ‘The venue is the first thing. Because it’s bound to be tricky, securing somewhere wonderful with only two months’ notice.’
‘It may have escaped your notice, but I am a restaurateur,’ Leo said. ‘I have venues. I am venues. And menus. And booze.’
Sunshine seemed startled. ‘Oh. I just assumed we’d be too late to get a large group booked into one of your places. That’s why I’ve suggested somewhere like the hotel on—’
‘My brother is not celebrating his marriage in a hotel.’
‘Okay. Well, there’s that lovely place that used to be a stately home in—’
‘Or in an old house.’
‘Then perhaps the new convention space—which is not as tragic as it sounds. In fact it has a—’
He slammed his hand on the table. ‘No!’ He stopped, reined in the spurt of annoyance. ‘No.’ Better. Calmer. ‘We have a perfectly...’ Reaching, reaching... ‘Perfectly perfect...’ hmm, thesaurus required ‘...private room in this restaurant.’
The only sign that Sunshine had noted his ill-tempered hand-banging incoherence was a tiny twitch at one side of her mouth. He feared—he really feared—she was trying not to laugh.
‘Which seats...?’ she asked, her head on one side like a bird, with every indication of deep interest.
‘Seats?’
‘How many people does the private room seat?’
‘Twenty-five.’
Sunshine crossed her arms—seemingly unaware of how she was framing her rather spectacular breasts—and looked at him, apologetic. ‘See? Me and lists! I got the order wrong. “Guest List” should have come before “Venue”. So! Let’s take a step back. I have Jon’s invitation list. Do you have Caleb’s?’
‘It’s coming today some time.’
‘Because there are seventy-five people on our side.’
He stared. ‘You are not serious.’
‘I assure you, I am. And that’s with a savage cull.’ She shuddered theatrically as she uncrossed her arms. ‘Savage.’
‘Caleb wants an intimate dinner.’
‘That’s not my understanding, but I’ll tell you what—you check with Caleb overnight, and we can reconvene tomorrow.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I hate it when people try to soothe me.’
Sunshine bit her lip. ‘Oh, dear, and I was trying to sound like I was keeping an open mind. But...okay. I’ll tell you straight out, if you prefer: there is no way this is going to be a dinner for twenty-five people. And there’s no use getting in a snit about it—it’s just the way it is.’
‘I’m not in a snit.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. Say so.’
‘All right.’
‘I’m not.’
‘All right.’
Another mouth-twitch. She was definitely trying not to laugh.
And Leo had had enough. ‘I have to go,’ he said, despite not being needed in the kitchen for fifteen minutes.
‘Yes, I can see everything’s getting under way here. I love the buzz of restaurants. Jon and I used to try a new restaurant every other week. I miss him. He’s so...so important to me.’ Her voice wobbled the merest fraction as she added the last bit.
Uh-oh, tears. Leo didn’t do tears. He felt himself shrink back. Wanted to run.
But her face morphed into something tortured, right before his eyes, and he froze. It was as if a layer had been ripped off her in one half-second. Her eyes were strained and yet also vacant, as if she were seeing...emptiness. Her lips trembled. Her skin looked ashen. Every trace of happiness was obliterated. The contrast with her normal exuberance was dramatic—almost painful to see.
All this because her best friend had moved overseas and she missed him?
Huh?
Leo wanted to touch her. Pat her hand or...something. Say...something. He who never touched, never comforted, because he didn’t know how. His hands fisted uselessly.
Then Sunshine blinked. Shook her head—tiny, tiny movement. And in another half-second everything clicked back to normal and Leo breathed a silent sigh of relief.
‘Um...’ he said. Yep, he was super-articulate today.
But she was smiling blindingly, as though that moment had never happened, so he did the sensible thing and shut up.
‘We haven’t got far down the list,’ she said. ‘What about if I shortcircuit a few things? You know, invitations, et cetera.’
‘What do you mean, “shortcircuit”? And “et cetera”?’ he asked, still a little shaken. Everything about her was throwing him off kilter.
‘I’ll get some options together for us to look over tomorrow. Nothing scary!’
She was completely back to normal. Full-strength perky. Better than the tragic facemask she’d freaked him out with—but only marginally. Leo didn’t like perky. And if he were being made to board Sunshine Smart’s good ship Lollipop for this wedding he would be the one at the tiller.
‘I thought we’d be emailing the invitations,’ he said.
She gave him what could only be termed a pitying smile. ‘Did you?’
That was all. She wasn’t even going to bother arguing.
Um...no. That was not how it was going to work. ‘It’s the twenty-first century,’ he said. ‘And time is short. I’ve seen some brilliant cutting-edge online invitations.’
‘Well, why don’t you bring one of those examples to our meeting tomorrow on your tablet/device/notebook/whatever you’ve got, and I’ll bring some hard copy snail mail samples appropriate for a chic but traditional wedding celebration.’
‘You’re doing the soothe thing again.’
‘Oh, dear, am I? I’ll have to work on that,’ she said.
It was obvious to Leo that she had no intention of doing anything of the sort. But he wasn’t going to waste his breath pointing that out. He was tired enough from just looking at her.
‘We’ll talk tomorrow—after I’ve checked with Caleb,’ he said shortly, and stood abruptly.
‘Just one more thing, Leo, before you rush off.’
