Книга - I Thee Bed…

I Thee Bed...
Jule McBride


Wedding planner Edie Benning is under pressure to pull off the celebrity wedding of the year. The Darden nuptials have been plagued by scandal and intrigue, and now the paparazzi are closing in fast. When her trusty assistant elopes with a groom-to-be, Edie's ready to throw in the towel.Until Jimmy Delaney walks in the door of Big Apple Brides, charming his way into a temporary job and her bed. The sexy bachelor seems to know all about photography…catering…weddings– although he seems keen to avoid one of his own. Is Edie in for heartache now that she's suddenly fantasizing about a walk down the aisle–with Jimmy?









“Come to bed…” Edie murmured


Jimmy paused in the doorway. “I’m enjoying the view.” His gaze was as warm as the candlelight that fluttered on his skin, and it was fixed where she was lying, propped against pillows piled high against the headboard.

She smiled. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you the past week and a half.”

He merely shrugged. He was shirtless, his muscular chest bare. He looked delicious, silhouetted in the semidarkness, a black line of wild curling hair bisecting his pecs and arrowing downward as if pointing to the most intimate part of him.

Just gazing at him made everything inside Edie ache and grow tight. She’d never felt this way about a man before.

Noticing the open bottle of champagne and two long-stemmed glasses dangling from his fingers, she frowned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think thats meant for the Darden wedding.”

“What did they order?” he asked, grinning. “A hundred cases?” He shrugged. “They won’t miss one bottle.”

She couldn’t help but smile again. “You’re positive about that?”

“Yeah. And this was a premeditated act,” he admitted huskily. “I even chilled the bubbly a couple of hours ago.” He moved into the room. “Somehow I figured we’d wind up in bed….”


Dear Reader,

I do hope you’ll enjoy my last book in the BIG APPLE BRIDES trilogy for the Harlequin Temptation line! It’s been fun writing about the three Benning sisters and the special, sexy men they each have met along the way.

After living in another state for some time, I recently returned to make my home in New York again. As always, I feel embraced by the sights and sounds! As far as I'm concerned, the city itself might as well be a Harlequin Temptation hunk, grabbing me by the waist, whirling me around until I’m breathless, then smacking me on the lips! Not that I wouldn’t trade New York for this last hero, Jimmy Delaney!

I do hope you’ll find him just as breathlessly exciting!

Watch for my next book in Harlequin Blaze, coming in 2006.

Happy reading!

Jule McBride




Books by Jule McBride


HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

875—THE HOTSHOT* (#litres_trial_promo)

883—THE SEDUCER* (#litres_trial_promo)

891—THE PROTECTOR* (#litres_trial_promo)

978—BEDSPELL

1005—SOMETHING BORROWED† (#litres_trial_promo)

1013—NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN† (#litres_trial_promo)

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

67—THE SEX FILES

91—ALL TUCKED IN…


I Thee Bed…

Jule McBride






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Contents


Chapter 1 (#u25d467f7-eadb-5c70-8eea-83fd69271f6b)

Chapter 2 (#u22a17265-2f7c-53ea-88dd-ae0a021efc20)

Chapter 3 (#u8f92109d-2b5a-5092-b2a9-f24a56045eb4)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)




1


“ALL RISE!”

“Whatever happens this time,” Ches Edmond whispered, coaching his client, “keep your cool, Jimmy.” As his eyes met those of the man beside him, the shared gaze held countless memories—everything from downing too many cold brewskies on fishing trips, to fighting over the same head cheerleader, to their last year of playing football together at a high school outside Cleveland. A few months after taking the team to the state finals, they’d packed their bags and moved to the Big Apple to share an East Village sublet that Jimmy had found over the Internet.

Ches added, “Judge Diana once wrote a book titled The Wrongdoers.”

Exhaling a long-suffering sigh, Jimmy Delaney whispered, “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope. Hit the stands a year ago last spring.”

“And you didn’t tell me before now?”

Ches shrugged, a two-thousand-dollar suit pulling snugly across shoulders so powerful that it looked as if he was wearing the pads from his high-school ball-playing uniform. “Did you really want to know?”

“Guess not,” agreed Jimmy as he rose slowly, fighting the urge to loosen the knot of a suffocating tie, a red, white and blue monstrosity he’d bought for his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary which, had luckily fallen on July fourth, and which Jimmy now hoped would communicate his sense of patriotism to the judge.

“She’s also thinking about running for public office,” Ches added.

Jimmy considered. “Republican?”

“Having written The Wrongdoers? What do you think?”

“And for our purpose that means?”

“The harsher the sentence, the better.”

“Swell,” muttered Jimmy dryly. From behind him, he could feel the eyes of his other buddies, celebrity photographers who hung around The Suds Bar on Avenue A in the East Village—Benny, Alex and Tim—burning a space between his shoulders. Glancing behind himself, Jimmy rolled his eyes, showing he wasn’t about to be cowed by a judge in a skirt and was pleased when he got supportive grins and a thumbs-up in response.

His spirits lifted further when he glanced at Ches again and remembered their public-speaking class in high school. The teacher, Mrs. Hepplewhite, had always said that, when nervous, you should imagine your audience naked. Easy enough in this case, Jimmy thought. Judge Diana Little might have been nearing fifty, but she took good care of herself. She had beautiful skin, and her tawny blond hair was flattering, cut to shoulder length. Even the square, black-framed glasses perched midway down her nose were kind of sexy, Jimmy decided, as he slowly, mentally removed her black robe.

Her voice, unfortunately, was hardly of the sex-kitten variety. “Mr. Delaney?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Before I sentence you, could you do me a favor?”

“Anything, ma’am. Just ask.”

She sent him a quick, close-mouthed wince that was meant to be a smile. “Wipe the smirk off your face.”

He should have realized Judge Diana would say something such as that. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“I’m sure I’ll live, Mr. Delaney,” she returned curtly.

Ches whispered, “This doesn’t bode well.”

Judge Diana heaved a sigh, her lightly glossed lips pursing in displeasure. “And does counsel have something to say?”

“No, Judge,” Ches assured.

Nodding, she stared at the top of her massive desk, her eyes roving over the contents of a three-inch-thick manila file. Very slowly, she tapped a paper with the long, slender finger of a perfectly manicured hand, causing Jimmy to bite back a sigh. Obviously, Judge Diana was going to draw out his sentencing, just to watch him squirm.

Or maybe she’d realize he’d done nothing wrong and go easy on him. He was half tempted to start speaking in his own defense; maybe if he hadn’t trusted Ches’s advice so much, he’d have done so already. But Ches was one of the best trial lawyers in New York City, so well-known that, if he hadn’t been a friend, Jimmy wouldn’t have gotten any further than a call to his assistant; despite being well employed, himself, Jimmy wouldn’t have been able to afford Ches’s rates, either.

Now he thanked his lucky stars for having such a talented buddy. Not only had they moved from Ohio together and finished college at NYU the same term, but Ches had gone on to law school, then made a name for himself as a defense attorney. On the first day of classes at NYU Law, he’d met a woman who was as sexy as she was brainy, and now Ches and Elsa were in their third year of married life; she’d given him two babies while joining a firm herself. The youngest child, Conner, was only three months old, but just like his older brother, Clay, he was showing signs of becoming a football star, at least as near as Jimmy and Ches could tell, even if Elsa often begged to differ.

Pushing aside the thoughts, Jimmy concentrated on Judge Diana again, wondering what was going to happen next. Ches had said it was unlikely, but Jimmy could wind up doing jail time. Jimmy sure hoped not. He glanced around. The benches in the high-ceilinged courtroom were nearly empty of people, and the place felt cavernous and smelled musty. In the silence, he could hear the ominous crackle of papers, and for the first time, he began to worry that things were about to plummet southward. Even if the sentence was harsh, Ches had said it wouldn’t matter, since they’d win on appeal, but Jimmy didn’t exactly relish the thought of wearing a striped uniform under any circumstances.

Regarding his legal battles, he’d long ago decided to turn his will and his life over to the care of Ches, and so, until now, he’d refused to sweat this case. It wasn’t his first. Jimmy’s talent was for taking pictures. From the earliest age, he’d shown a knack for color and composition, and for discovering photogenic quality in just about any subject. He could take the most seemingly homely girl in the world and make her look intriguing beyond compare. And it wasn’t a trick. He’d simply been given a gift for capturing the souls of even the most elusive people. Time after time, he’d snap the shutter in the split second when a person’s deepest emotions surfaced, and what might have been seen as ugly was infused with new depth. His was a talent that had brought critical acclaim when he’d first started working, and later far more than the average wage usually made by photographers.

As Judge Diana held up a copy of the New York Post, Jimmy braced himself for whatever sentence was to come, but she merely said, “You took this?”

He surveyed a black-and-white zoom shot of hotel heiress, Julia Darden, who’d been on the deck of a yacht sailing off the Chelsea Piers in the West Twenties. She and her fiancé, Lorenzo Santini, were wrapped in a sheet, kissing deeply, in a suggestive enough pose that any viewer would assume they were making love.

He nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“And you sold it to the tabloids?”

Obviously. He tried not to balk. He was a photographer, after all. And that meant he sold his pictures. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Although you knew there was an order of protection against you?”

“I was outside the court-ordered range of distance, Judge.”

“A simple yes or no will do.”

He sighed. “Yes. I knew there was an order.”

“And not the first one Julia Darden has filed against you?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Would you want people taking pictures of you such as this?”

Jimmy should be so lucky to find himself wrapped in a sheet, in the arms of a woman as gorgeous as Julia Darden. “I wouldn’t mind in the least.”

“How many orders of protection have there been?”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure, so he glanced at Ches as he said, “Six or seven over the past few years. Most since she announced her wedding six months ago.”

“Eleven,” corrected the judge.

When she ducked her head once more and continued perusing his file, Jimmy’s annoyance intensified. So maybe there had been eleven orders of protection, but Ches said he really hadn’t done anything illegal, only unconventional, and with Julia Darden’s wedding taking place in a couple of weeks, on April first, Jimmy could hardly afford to be in jail during the event. One picture of Julia and Lorenzo’s kiss at the altar would buy him the West Village Co-op he’d been eyeing for the past year. Besides, only Celebrity Weddings magazine was to have access to the event, which meant getting inside would provide just the kind of challenge that Jimmy lived for.

Just thinking of the wedding, he almost smiled. Leave it to Julia Darden to name April Fools’ Day for her nuptials. She definitely had a sense of humor. It was rumored that she hadn’t even really wanted a ring, but only the pop-can tab with which Lorenzo had proposed, and which she now wore around her neck. She was as beautiful as she was funny, with straight brown hair, brown eyes and a wide smile, and yet, she was more than just beautiful. She had a quality Jimmy had been able to capture repeatedly on film, a projected air of having been completely well loved during all her twenty-seven years. Any hurt she might have experienced seemed to have rolled off her back, which was why she’d become one of Jimmy’s—and all of America’s—favorite tabloid subjects.

Her father, spry, silver-haired widower, Sparky Darden, was a character in his own right. Sixty-seven and diagnosed with cancer that had gone into remission, he was in semiretirement, enjoying an estate in Long Island where Julia’s wedding was to take place. He’d spent his life building the Darden hotel empire, but he’d also spent much time doting on his daughter, giving her the life of a fairy princess, a fact that always shone through the features of her face and that, despite her aversion to cameras and publicity, had made her America’s darling. Her sport star husband-to-be was no slouch, either.

But it was photographs of Julia that commanded the highest pay at the tabloids. Because she always tried to avoid publicity, Jimmy didn’t understand how Emma Goldstein at Celebrity Weddings magazine had gotten exclusive rights to shoot the wedding. It was shocking that Julia would let anyone with a camera, much less a mainstream celebrity magazine, near the wedding, and now, despite the order of protection, Jimmy still wanted to get in the door. He was well-known among paparazzi for the inventive tactics and disguises he used to get close to subjects, but so far, Julia Darden’s wedding was providing new challenges, almost daily.

It had all started last October, almost six months ago, when the wedding was first announced. Ever since, Jimmy had managed to scoop Celebrity Weddings by publishing shots of preparations in the tabloids, something that had brought him into contact, however anonymously, with the Benning family. As it had turned out, Julia Darden’s father, because of a past association with a man named Joe Benning, had hired Joe’s daughter, Edie, as Julia’s wedding planner, and Edie, prompted by Celebrity Weddings, had agreed to appear on a reality television show called Rate the Dates a couple months ago….

Jimmy had gone undercover as a videographer for Rate the Dates, padding his clothes, wearing a beard and calling himself Vinny Marcel. While shooting footage of Edie Benning and her date-mate, and hoping to use the ruse to get closer to Julia, he’d wound up with more of a scoop than he’d expected. As it turned out, the woman on the reality show wasn’t Edie Benning after all, but rather, her twin sister, Marley, and now—assuming he wasn’t going to jail—Jimmy had to come up with another game plan for getting close to Edie.

He wouldn’t mind in the least. When he’d first seen the identical twin sisters together, he’d been able to tell them apart immediately. The women were identical, yes. And yet, there was something so different about their essence. Both were about five foot five. Both had worn their feathered blond hair blown straight, and both had blue eyes the color of robins’ eggs on a foggy morning.

But it was Edie, not Marley, to whom he’d responded. The pull on Jimmy’s body had been strangely magnetic. Unforgettable, visceral, primal. He didn’t want to get to know Edie, to take her on a date, or impress her with his credentials or expertise, or even watch her eyes light up with pleasure. No…he’d awakened from dreams about her and caught himself fantasizing about loving her—quickly undressing her, stripping down her stockings, pulling down her skirt, unbuttoning the delicate blouses she favored. He could see himself pushing silk from her shoulders, exposing a white bra, the lace of which was worrying taut pink nipples that the fabric barely covered…

He suddenly blinked. Dammit, Judge Diana was staring at him, and she gave the impression she’d been doing so for some time. “Yes?” he managed.

“Did you hear a word I said, Mr. Delaney?”

With her dark eyes scrutinizing him, Jimmy decided it was probably better not to lie. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Is your own sentencing boring you?”

He shook his head.

She sighed. “For your inattention alone, I should send you to Riker’s Island.”

Riker’s Island? Ches had indicated that if Jimmy received a jail term, it would be in some cushy place for white-collar criminals. He felt Ches’s hand close over his forearm, as if Ches feared Jimmy might suddenly lunge past the judge and run for freedom.

Judge Diana was eyeing him again. Using an index finger, she pushed the black-framed glasses toward the bridge of her very straight, patrician nose. “I see you studied fine art before you went into your current occupation.”

What did that have to do with anything? “I was an art photographer, yes.”

“And now you’re pretty merciless, aren’t you, Mr. Delaney? You dress in disguises, which makes it difficult to catch you in the act while you peep in windows and the like?”

“Not exactly how I’d put it.” He wanted to add, “I’ve forgone many of the usual life pleasures, just to bring the American public the kind of pictures it most loves.” Instead, he said, “I’m going to honor the order of protection, Judge.” The truth was, he’d already done so, and she knew it, but the Darden’s security staff and legal team were turning up the heat as the wedding day neared, hoping to keep Jimmy away from Julia. They’d even insinuated he’d chased a Darden limousine, trying to get a shot of Julia, and that the car had swerved dangerously, but that was a blatant lie.

Yes he’d honored the order of protection, so far, but the Darden’s security team was starting to pose just the kind of challenge Jimmy relished. After all, he’d done the right thing, only to be punished. Besides, he did want pictures of the wedding. Celebrity Weddings magazine had an exclusive, but if anybody else could get in to shoot pictures, it would be Jimmy. Suddenly, a plan began to form in his mind. Surely, there was a way to get inside the Darden estate….

Only the pounding of the gavel brought his attention back to the judge. “All and all, Mr. Delaney,” she said, “I think you’ll find my sentence of community service fair. You will, of course, adhere to all existent orders of protection against you. That goes without saying. In addition, beginning tomorrow at the Little Red Schoolhouse on Bleeker and Sixth Avenue, from nine o’clock until noon, and for the next six weeks, you’ll meet with the shutterbugs.”

Community service? What was she talking about? Pictures he’d taken of Kiefer Sutherland picking up trash along the L.A. freeway shot through his mind. Surely, he wasn’t going to be wearing orange and cleaning public parks. Then the word registered. “Shutterbugs?”

Judge Diana nodded. “My juvie offenders. Believe me, I’ve got a bunch. This morning, an officer told me his evidence room is overflowing with camera equipment that can’t be returned which was why he couldn’t find some drug money for three months after he’d confiscated it. This should kill three birds with a stone.”

“Three birds?” muttered Ches.

She nodded. “The officer, the kids and Mr. Delaney.”

“Juvie offenders?” Jimmy managed. He’d been a lone child, and the only kids he knew lately were Ches and Elsa’s sons, and they weren’t even old enough to call him “Uncle Jimmy” yet. “I’m sorry, Judge, but I don’t know how to teach—”

An elbow to the gut nearly took away his breath. Judge Diana, who’d seemed to catch the action, smiled. “I see your attorney, uh…” She paused, her smile broadening. “Gets the picture.”

A second later, Jimmy was blinded by a series of white flashes, and in the next heartbeat, he realized his own buddies had circled to the front of the courtroom to snap his slack-jawed expression. Already, he could see the picture in the Post or the Daily News. The text would read something like, From Julia to Juvies. Didn’t these guys care that selling such a photo would publicize his face, making him that much easier to spot, endangering his ability to work? “With friends like these,” he muttered, “who needs enemies?”

And then thankfully, Judge Diana saved Jimmy’s day by saying, “Bailiff, please confiscate all the cameras.”

“THIS WEEK, YOUR ASSIGNMENT is to shoot two rolls of film, then next week, we’ll start learning how to develop them in the darkroom here at the school. Are there any more questions about the basic operation of the cameras?”

The fifteen kids, ranging in age from ten to fifteen, shook their heads, and eleven-year-old Melissa Jones shuddered with pleasure. Every time she’d looked at her hero during the past three hours, she’d almost swooned. She loved tabloids, as well as watching shows like Entertainment Tonight, so she was completely familiar with Jimmy Delaney’s work, not to mention a super-fan. She’d never have expected him to be such a hunk, though. He was so supercute. Supercool, too. Even the tougher, older kids weren’t giving him a hard time. She raised her hand again, just so he’d notice her. “Do we get to take the camera home today, Mr. Delaney?”

“Yes. Like I said, you’re supposed to take pictures this week, okay? And you can’t do that unless you take the cameras. But don’t forget to be careful with the equipment. It’s the property of the state.”

“Yo, bro,” said a kid in front of her to one of his friends. “That means we don’t hawk them on Canal Street.”

“That’s right,” agreed Jimmy. “But Chinatown would be a great place to take pictures.” After turning to write a number on the blackboard, he began going from desk to desk, to double-check cameras and film. “That’s my number on the board. Call me at home if you have questions.”

His home number! Very carefully, Melissa copied it into her pink notebook, feeling her hands getting sweatier as he neared her desk. Setting down her pencil with shaking fingers, she slicked her palms down the sides of her jeans, shuddered, then smoothed her dark hair away from her face.

Jimmy’s straight fine jet-black hair was cut very short, and even though he’d slicked it back, it stuck almost straight up, just the way Matt Damon and Ben Affleck wore theirs. He had a very square jaw, dark, liquid eyes, and a tiny dot of a mole beside his mouth.

Supersexy, Melissa thought. Yes, if she had realized that being a criminal would help her meet Jimmy Delaney, she’d have started shoplifting and maxing out her mother’s credit cards on catalog shopping way back in the first grade. Suddenly, sadness twisted inside her as her mind flashed on her last arrest in Bloomingdale’s. Her parents had looked so devastated. That was the word her mother had kept using—devastated.

But could Melissa help it if she was bored? And if her parents were always so mad at her?

“We’ve given you everything!” her mother had exclaimed between sobs, after she’d spoken with the security staff and watched her daughter on the videotape, stealing a pair of men’s leather gloves. Her father, who had been a lot less kind, had said Melissa could, “forget about taking any time-outs.” Both her parents had said she was a selfish girl, but Melissa didn’t understand how they could have arrived at that. She always gave money to Jack Stevens, the homeless man who slept over the grate beneath the fire escape below her apartment. And the gloves had been for him.

Jack didn’t really seem homeless, anyway. Since he was the first street person to whom Melissa had ever spoken, she’d been very surprised and had completely revised her opinion about homelessness. He’d once had a really nice apartment uptown, but after he’d lost his job, his wife had left, which was bad timing because it turned out his son needed an operation, and the insurance had lapsed, which meant the medical expenses had wiped Jack out financially. His son was better now, but he was with Jack’s wife, and Jack missed them both so much that he’d started drinking, which had made things go from bad to worse. Now, Jack really thought he could turn things around if he could get into a rehab center, but treatment would cost several thousand dollars.

See? Melissa fumed. She knew all about Jack’s life! Didn’t that show she was unselfish? She had what people called empathy, too. She definitely understood Jack’s financial crunch. While her mother said Melissa had been given everything, it wasn’t really true. Melissa wanted a horse, for instance, and she could easily relate that to Jack’s feelings about his son.

She’d wanted a horse for over a year, ever since she’d seen the movie, Black Beauty, and when she’d asked, her father had said, “Maybe.” Later, he’d gone on to say that it was more complex than just getting a horse, since they lived in New York City and would need to board it. When Melissa had suggested they move to Wyoming, her father had just laughed at her.

Well, she’d show him! Opening the back of her camera, she slowly inserted the film just as Jimmy had illustrated for the class. The key to success in business was filling a niche. She’d heard her father say it a thousand times. And now, with Jimmy Delaney gone from the paparazzi business, there was a niche to fill. Since Melissa’s dad had been a linebacker for the NFL before retiring and becoming a sportscaster for a network, Melissa could get access to TV studios. The network even had an after-school program that Melissa had previously refused to attend.

Who could shoot celebrities more easily than a kid, after all? Adults never noticed kids. Melissa couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of this before. If she wanted to do so, she could even get supersexy pictures in the girls’ dressing rooms. If everything went as planned, she could sell the pictures, earn enough money to buy a horse, and then she wouldn’t even be tempted to steal in the future.

Not that Jimmy was directly suggesting the kids should go into his line of work. But he’d chosen it, hadn’t he? And that meant he’d decided it was a good job. Now, all Melissa had to do was convince Jack Stevens to help her sell the pictures she took. She’d need a grown-up to do things such as open a bank account. She could almost see the beautiful black stallion she was going to buy, and maybe…

Jimmy Delaney paused beside her desk. “What kind of pictures do you want to shoot this week, Melissa?”

When he leaned down, close to her desk, Melissa could smell a faint tinge of soap and aftershave lotion. She wanted to tell him he was so beautiful that he could be a movie star, but she only sent him a huge smile. “Close-up shots of flowers mostly,” she said sweetly. “Maybe you can teach me how to make them look soft and fuzzy,” she continued, trying to make her voice sound breathless. “The way they do in the art magazines.” She paused. “How much money do you make when you sell things to the Post?”

His eyes widened. “When class began, I said I wasn’t going to talk about that,” he said, leaning even closer.

Her dark eyes locked with his. “Ballpark?”

For a moment, he was still, then his shoulders started shaking and he laughed. “Soft and fuzzy flowers,” he repeated. “I’ll be happy to give you some pointers on that, Melissa.”

Melissa. She blew out a slow, shivery breath, barely able to believe that Jimmy Delaney—the Jimmy Delaney—had called her by her first name. Ever since the incident at Bloomingdale’s, she’d been so depressed, but now life was looking up! And regarding her question about picture fees, Melissa wasn’t the least bit concerned. She was a whiz on the Internet, and absolutely no information had ever eluded her.




2


“WHY DON’T WE MOVE into the front room again?” Edie Benning suggested, glancing between a dark-haired woman named Stacy LaPaglia and her husband-to-be, Reggie Hammer. The Darden wedding aside, business was slow, so Edie couldn’t afford to alienate even one client. She was doing her best to be diplomatic and fulfill the couple’s desires; yet, she could hardly let Stacy and Reggie remain in the conference room, perusing notes, sketches and lists pertaining to the Darden event. “Really, what we most strive to do at Big Apple Brides,” Edie coaxed, “is to make each wedding absolutely unique. I want to concentrate on you and Reggie, Stacy, on any special needs you two may have as a couple, and on your own dreams and goals….”

Stacy only moved closer to the board table, grasping her fiancé’s hand and dragging him with her as she lifted a sketch of Julia’s gown, which Edie’s mother, Viv, a seamstress, had been commissioned to help design and make. “So, this is a picture of the gown Julia Darden’s wearing?”

“Uh…yes,” Edie managed. “It is, but as you and Reggie probably understand, we’re keeping her and Lorenzo Santini’s plans as private as possible.”

“But most of the preparations have been made public in Celebrity Weddings magazine,” countered Stacy, “which is why Reggie and I are hiring you.”

“I appreciate that, but…” Vaguely, Edie gestured toward the front room again, wishing these two would take the hint, so she wouldn’t have to become more explicit. While what Stacy had said was true, other notes on the table pertained to less public matters, such as the security strategies for the Darden wedding, and that really was private. Thankfully, the notes involving security weren’t in plain view.

“Since you do like Julia’s dress,” Edie ventured, “I’ve got a sense of your taste now, and have some others I’d like to show you. In fact, in the next room, I’ve got photographs I believe you’ll be very interested in seeing, Stacy—”

Suddenly, Edie’s heart missed a beat and her voice trailed off as she glanced through the conference-room doorway, across the reception room and through the front windows. No one’s there now. And yet for the umpteenth time this morning, Edie sensed something amiss. Just now, she could have sworn someone had been at the windows, staring inside. She tried to take a deep breath, to calm herself, but it was no use. Her senses had gone on alert. All the colors in the room seemed brighter; the objects were outlined in sharper detail, except for Stacy and her fiancé, who might as well have vanished. Should she call the police?

Since October, shortly after Julia Darden’s wedding had been announced, someone had started threatening the heiress’s life. During a meeting about wedding safety, the head of the Darden’s security staff, Pete Shriver, had shown Edie some of the poison-pen letters sent to Julia, and he’d even stationed a man on Edie’s block for a few weeks to watch the shop, until Edie had convinced him it wasn’t really necessary. Being watched around the clock had only made Edie more nervous; besides, Julia was the target, and as the wedding had neared, she’d quit coming into Big Apple Brides. Lately, Edie had been going to Long Island whenever she had business to discuss, and now, with only two weeks until the day, most preparations were taking place on the site of the event, anyway, which was the Dardens’ estate.

Edie would be so glad when all this was finally over. Puffing her cheeks to blow, she exhaled, now wishing it hadn’t started to snow again. The weather had been so unpredictable that she still didn’t know whether to expect another blizzard or blooming spring flowers, come April first. One day last week, the temperature had hiked to seventy degrees only to plummet to thirty once more.

Well, everything’s going to be fine, Edie assured herself, shaking her head to clear it of confusion. And yet, she was scared. A few weeks ago, an unidentified intruder at the Darden estate had fired gunshots while Julia and Edie’s sister, Marley, had been jogging in the woods. According to Pete Shriver, the incident was probably some sort of scare tactic. As he’d put it, “If someone wants you dead, they can usually do it, Edie. But this guy’s only sending letters and shooting bullets that never seem to find a human target.” Pete had said that the bullets found lodged in the trees indicated the perpetrator had aimed high, which meant he hadn’t really been shooting to kill.

Not that such information gave Edie comfort. She was a wedding planner, for heaven’s sake. A diehard romantic. That her hearts-and-flowers business would wind up involving bodyguards had never once occurred to her.

Welcome to my life, she thought now. Her pulse was still skyrocketing, and as she worriedly licked her lips, she scanned her eyes slowly over the premises—first over the interior of the reception area, the neat desk, the muted carpet, the shelves lined with wedding-planning books. And then she looked through the windows. On one, the words Big Apple Brides were painted in gold. Draped with satin swags, both glassed cases brimmed with wedding items: champagne glasses, a hope chest, garters and bouquets. A winged mannequin wore a gown of white feathers, a bed waited in invitation, and roses were strewn across the floors. The effect was pure fantasy, inviting couples to come inside the shop and create their ultimate dreams.

There! Her heart beat double time. Yes…she recognized the man who was walking past now! She’d seen him more than once this morning. It wasn’t her imagination. He didn’t look dangerous, though. In fact, he was the picture of respectability, wearing a dark gray wool coat open over a light gray suit. His hair was short. Now he passed the window again, as if trying to decide whether or not to come inside.

A walk-in? Yes, she thought with sudden relief. That was probably the case. Ten to one, he was considering proposing to his girlfriend. After Stacy and Reggie were gone, he’d probably come inside to get estimates for a wedding. While paying for the event was the bride’s family’s responsibility, traditionally, the escalating cost of creating a perfect day was prompting more grooms to pitch in, sometimes even bearing the whole cost.

Good. Edie was so desperate for clients that she suddenly felt tears pushing at her eyelids. Not that she’d cry. Still, she simply couldn’t stand one more thing in her life going wrong. And since starting Big Apple Brides had been her life dream, she really wanted it to fly. If the guy didn’t return, Edie decided, she’d call Pete Shriver, just to make sure he hadn’t put another security man on detail outside her shop without telling her.

What a day! Months, she mentally amended. Ever since she’d been hired to plan the Darden wedding, her life had spun increasingly out of control. The latest challenge was that her assistant, Cheryl, had quit. In itself, this would have been upsetting, but Cheryl’s reason for leaving made things much worse. She’d run off with a man she’d met at Big Apple Brides—a man who’d come into the shop with his fiancé to plan their wedding. Now Cheryl was vacationing with him in St. Martin.

Unbelievable, Edie thought, suddenly fuming. Even worse, the stack of résumés faxed to her by a head-hunter had hardly turned up the perfect replacement. Besides, Edie couldn’t pay enough to attract the sort of assistant she really wanted. Before hiring the head-hunter to screen applicants, most people who’d responded to her newspaper ad had shown up with tattoos and visible piercings. One had brought her dog. Another was addicted to chewing grape gum and was furious when Edie had told her she couldn’t read novels on the job.

The man outside had vanished, so Edie turned her attention back to Stacy, who was saying, “Oh, Reggie, look, here’s the list of songs Julia Darden’s playing. I really do like her dress. I think I’d like to have one just exactly like it. What do you think, hon?”

“Please,” Edie managed, still feeling caught between a rock and a hard place. “We’re going to have to move out of the conference room—”

“But we’re hiring you because you’re planning the Darden wedding,” persisted Stacy.

“Of course,” Edie agreed, glad for the business, “but I want to help you consider all the possibilities for your own wedding. So, if we could…”

Just as Stacy replaced the drawing of Julia’s dress, a male voice sounded from behind Edie. “The dress really is stunning.”

Edie turned, and when she saw the man framed in the door, she felt as if her whole world was sliding off-kilter again. It was the guy who’d been lurking outside. He breezed past Edie, heading for Stacy with a proprietary air as if he owned the place, and Edie wondered what was going on. Was he an acquaintance of Stacy and Reggie’s? Had he been waiting for them? He was even better looking up close. Medium height, medium build, brown hair, brown eyes. A small mole by his mouth. Nothing special, but the whole package was appealing. So was the whiff of cologne he left in his wake.

Edie’s jaw slackened as she watched him shrug out of a silk-lined coat that seemed to float down the arms of his snazzy suit. He clapped Reggie hard on the shoulder, then thrust out his hand, offering a quick, rough handshake. “Name’s Seth Bishop.”

Which meant he didn’t know Stacy and Reggie, after all.

Nevertheless, he slid his hand under Stacy’s elbow as if they’d known each other for years, then began steering her gracefully from the room, staring down at her from the vantage point of comparable height and sending her an utterly disarming, charming grin that clearly mesmerized the woman. As he passed Edie, he winked, and while she was still gaping, he took advantage of her stupefaction to deposit his coat into her arms.

“Thanks,” she managed.

“No, thank you,” he said, guiding Stacy across the threshold and into the next room, where Edie had been trying to direct her for the past ten minutes. As Edie and Reggie followed, the man calling himself Seth Bishop said, “That dress is great, but Julia Darden’s one of those tall, skinny, willowy types…”

Stacy, who’d looked as if she’d been placed under a spell a second ago, now glanced over her shoulder at Edie, frowning. “Are you saying I’m not—”

“Scrawny?” He laughed. “Absolutely not.” Turning, he winked at Reggie. “Julia’s beautiful, yes. But in a sort of supermodel way. She’s got a figure that needs to be fleshed out a bit, which is why Ms. Benning helped her choose the Empire gown you were admiring. You, however—” he glanced from Stacy to Reggie for support “—have other…” He paused delicately, as if searching for a word, then settled on, “Assets. And so, I think Ms. Benning intends to show you gowns that Julia Darden couldn’t have gotten away with wearing…gowns that can show off your figure, and—”

“You’re saying you think my figure’s better than Julia Darden’s?” Stacy asked breathlessly, chuckling with delight.

“Well,” conceded Seth Bishop. “We don’t like to compare clients.”

The man was acting as if he worked here! Unsure whether she should be furious or relieved, Edie decided it was in her best interests to simply hang up the man’s coat and start hauling down books of dress-design illustrations. The next hour passed in a blur. Seth Bishop, whoever he was, was a real hard-sell animal. He appealed to the couple’s vanity and their pocketbook, but his methods hardly mattered because by the end of the hour, Stacy and Reggie were well on their way to creating their own dream wedding, rather than copying Julia Darden’s.

Edie and this stranger had worked together beautifully, too, hand in glove. After setting Stacy and Reggie up with a future appointment, the man even showed the couple to the door, and when he shut it behind them and turned around to face her, Edie found herself laughing, dryly saying, “Should I be impressed or terrified?”

He raised a thick, dark eyebrow, his lips upturning in a warm, inviting smile, his dark eyes sparkling. “Terrified? Of me?”

Leaning against the desk behind her, Edie crossed her arms, surveying him a long moment. Unable to wipe the smile from her face, she felt strangely glad this was one of the mornings she’d gotten up early to wash and blow-dry her shoulder-length blond hair. She was wearing one of her most flattering suits, too, with a tailored A-line skirt and a dark brown forties styled jacket. She nodded. “Yeah, terrified. And resentful,” she added.

He chuckled, his brows knitting in an expression of mock concentration, as if he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. “Of moi?”

“I’d been trying to get Stacy out of the conference room for ten minutes when you got here.”

“True. I was standing outside watching. But in your defense, she was a tough case. It seemed better to use guy charm.”

Edie nodded. “Hmm. Guy charm?”

“My specialty.”

From what she’d seen, she wouldn’t disagree with him. “And you are?”

His mouth curled further, twisting into one of the most disarming smiles she’d ever seen. “Besides charming?”

“The charm piqued my interest,” Edie assured. “Now I need more information.” She paused. “I did see you outside, and I thought maybe…”

“Yes?”

“You wanted an estimate or something.” Up close, it seemed obvious that the guy couldn’t be connected to the Darden’s security problems. Oh, Edie had seen enough movies to know that even serial killers could fool people. But she didn’t really believe that. No, she trusted her own gut instincts about people, and this guy exuded basic decency. More than Edie had ever sensed upon meeting someone new, in fact. Everything about him—the way he carried himself, the tasteful way he was dressed, the depth of warmth in his dark brown eyes, his easy sense of humor—made her sure he was trustworthy. He did, however, look puzzled.

“Estimate?”

She nodded. “For a wedding.”

A brief pause ensued, during which his luscious eyes widened, then he suddenly burst out laughing. “You thought I was getting married?”

Edie hardly wanted to examine her motives, but the truth was, she’d never been so instantly attracted to a man in her life as she was to Seth Bishop. One look—and she’d started imagining how he’d look with his clothes off. If the truth be told, she’d been through a dry spell. The last man she’d dated had wound up with her sister, so she was due some excitement. She considered. “Marriage,” she repeated. “Is that such a strange idea?”

“Uh…yeah,” he deadpanned as if he’d never heard of anything so ludicrous. “Especially since I don’t even have a girlfriend.”

Edie tried not to overreact to the information she’d been fishing for, but her chest got tight. “Then what are you…”

He looked surprised once more, then blinked as if he’d just come to his senses and swiftly slid a palm against his shirt, into the side pocket of the suit and withdrew a folded paper, which he handed to her. “Sorry. I thought the agency told you I was coming.”

“Oh,” she managed as she studied what turned out to be his résumé, barely able to believe it. “You’re applying for the assistant’s job?”

“I guess we had a kind of action-oriented interview.”

As she scanned the résumé, she couldn’t believe her luck. He was from Ohio, and in addition to graduating from art school, he’d worked as an art director at two high-profile companies. He also had experience in sales, which, given his handling of Stacy and Reggie, was pretty obvious.

“I won’t lie,” he said quickly. “I lost my last job in a company reorganization. There were no hard feelings, and I got a good severance. So, I am interviewing for more professional positions, in keeping with my background.”

“And you’re interested in Big Apple Brides because…”

“I want to hold out for a dream job, so I don’t expect it to materialize overnight. I figured while I interview for something more permanent, it wouldn’t hurt to keep a hand in, do some lighter work. The agency thought some of my skills might be of interest to you….”

It was almost too good to be true. Right now, all Edie really needed was support staff while she finished the Darden wedding. Then she’d have more breathing space. Not to mention more money, to hire the sort of permanent assistant she most wanted. She eyed Seth Bishop again. Pete Shriver had talked to the headhunting agency at some length, regarding how background checks were to be conducted, since employees would necessarily come into contact with Julia Darden. Also, Edie was to fax Pete the résumés of any applicants she hired, so she wasn’t too worried about Seth Bishop in that respect…. “I know the agency checked your references,” she said anyway, “but I’ll need to do so again.”

“Of course.”

He didn’t look the least bit nervous, which was a good sign. “If what you did here over the last hour is indicative of how you work, we should get along famously,” she found herself saying.

“Then why don’t you check my references and call me. I’m ready to start whenever you want me to come in.”

“Deal.” Edie stuck out her hand, and when his found hers, she was hardly surprised to feel heat flood her system. Nothing more than the casual touch made her every last nerve dance. And her last thought as he shrugged into his coat and walked through the door and into the swirling snow was that she would never be able to work with him without taking him upstairs to her apartment—and to bed.

“STACY WAS DEFINITELY right about one thing,” Seth said several days later as he helped Edie sort through the sketches on the board table. “That really is a beautiful gown. You and your mother did a great job.”

Edie couldn’t help but lean closer to him, drawn by the scent of his cologne and animal magnetism she simply couldn’t resist. “Actually—” Deciding to take a break, she pulled out a chair, seated herself at the table, then looked at the picture again. “That was my own dream gown.”

Following suit, Seth rolled a chair across the gray carpet and sat next to her. “Yours?”

Nodding, she took a deep breath, relaxing. “Thank you for everything,” she inserted, instead of pursuing the conversation. It was their third day on the job together, and Seth really had turned out to be a godsend. Sexy, too. He’d done nothing to diminish the initial sense that she’d like to get into bed with him. Today, he was wearing a dark charcoal suit, blue shirt and an unlikely lime-and-red-striped tie that looked so fabulous it prompted her to say, “You do have an amazing eye for color, Seth.” She’d met few people who could mix and match color and fabric with his unique flair. “Are you sure you want to go back into art directing?”

He laughed. “Offering to make me a partner?”

“Maybe,” Edie teased. “You can go, by the way. It’s about five. I’ve got to stick around for the mailman. I’m his last stop, and he brings in the papers, which should be in the outside box by now.”

Seth made no move to leave, but merely surveyed her, an easy smile still on his lips. “You’re evading the subject.”

“Which was?”

He pointed at a sketch. “The gown.”

She shrugged, blowing out a wistful sigh. “Honestly, a lot of Julia’s wedding includes elements I used to fantasize about when I was a kid. Things I thought I’d have in my own wedding. Even the music. My sister Bridget’s fiancé, Dermott, finally agreed to arrange some pieces. And I’d always thought of asking him, myself.”

As if sensing the conversation was headed for deeper turf, Seth rose, circled around to a counter and poured them both cups of coffee, fixing hers with cream and sugar, the way she liked it, then he returned, setting hers down before reseating himself. “Why didn’t you save the ideas for your own wedding?”

She considered. “You mean, besides the fact that I don’t have over a million dollars to spend?”

“Yeah.”

“And besides the fact that I’ve just about given up on ever having a wedding?”

He stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”

She thought a moment, then flashed him a smile, deciding to come clean with the whole story. “Maybe I should tell you the real reason I opened Big Apple Brides. You see, rumor has it that a Southern belle named Miss Marissa Jennings put a curse on all the Benning women during the Civil War when her own love life didn’t work out,” Edie began, then she plunged into the wealth of family stories told since time immemorial about the wedding curse, including the fact that Joe Benning wasn’t her biological father, since her mother had previously been married to a man named Jasper Hartley.

“You don’t remember him at all?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I was too little when he died. Bridget had just been born. And Mom met Joe shortly afterward, so he’s all I’ve ever known as a father. It’s been great. Our only real legacy from Jasper Hartley is the family’s wedding curse.”

“And because of this, no Benning woman will ever marry?”

“So the stories go.”

“Not very nice of Miss Marissa,” Seth commented, clearly warming to the tale. He leaned forward as if to hear better, coming so close that their knees touched under the table. He pulled away, but not before a white-hot jolt shot through Edie’s system.

“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed. “Anyway, there are plenty of family stories about the ghost of Miss Marissa, so from an early age, I thought opening a wedding-planning business might…”

“Bring the Benning women better marriage Karma?”

She sipped her coffee, then made a show of smacking her lips, tilting the cup and toasting him since it tasted absolutely perfect. “Exactly.”

Seth squinted. “But I met your sisters. Marley and Bridget, right? They’ve both stopped in. I thought the two of them said they were engaged.”

Edie grinned. “See. My plan worked.”

“Touché.”

Her smile tempered as she glanced across the threshold and to the outer windows where twilight was waning and the snow was still falling. Her business was situated on the corner of Hudson and Perry streets and her parents, Viv and Joe, lived at the other end of the block. She had a sudden urge to call her mother, to ask if she could bring Seth Bishop home with her for dinner—assuming he’d want to come, of course. Her grandmother, fondly known as Granny Ginny, was still visiting, and she imagined Seth would enjoy the older woman’s company.

Turning her attention to him again, she startled. He’d been looking at her with…intensity, she realized. Longing. Raw sexual need. For just a second, she felt completely unbalanced, although she shared the sentiment, she was deeply attracted to him, and more than once she’d fantasized about going to bed with him. It was unwise, since they were working together, yes. Still, the more she got to know him, the more she wanted him. She also realized his knee had found hers under the table again. How long had it been brushing hers?

“Uh…” Somehow, she found her voice. “My sisters are engaged, but they’ve only became so recently.” Continuing, now speaking almost by rote, since his proximity was claiming most of her attention, she caught Seth up on how her life had spun out of control after Sparky Darden had hired her. She told him about how Celebrity Weddings had talked her into going on a reality show called Rate the Dates with a man she’d been dating at the time, named Cash Champagne, and how he’d only been using her to get close to Julia Darden, since he was Sparky Darden’s estranged biological son and Julia’s half brother.

“That’s a wild story,” Seth agreed.

“Nothing compared to what happened after that,” assured Edie, reporting that things had gone further awry since Marley, while attempting to cancel Edie’s appearance on the reality show, had wound up being a contestant, herself—something that had led to her engagement with Cash. And then Bridget, determined to put an end to Miss Marissa’s wedding curse on the Benning women for good, had talked her longtime best friend, Dermott, into traveling down South to an old family plantation in Florida, owned by their grandmother, to do some ghost-busting.

“According to Bridget, she rid the plantation of Miss Marissa, not to mention her curse, which is how Bridget wound up engaged to Dermott.”

“Again, impressive,” said Seth.

“And why I know no more adventures can come my way until after the Darden wedding,” Edie finished, chuckling softly.

“I’m not sure I follow. Why?”

“I’ve had my quota,” she explained.

He was smiling. “Well, you don’t seem cursed to me.”

“Believe me, my own luck’s been lousy.”

“You found me.”

“True. But only after the videographer for the reality show I mentioned found out Marley had taken my place.” She paused, suddenly pondering the wisdom of going into all this with a man to whom she was so attracted. “I hate to admit this, but they…they, uh, announced on national television that my love life was in the toilet.”

His shoulders shook with merriment. “You’re kidding me, right?”

She slowly moved her head from side to side. “I wish.”

“Tell all.”

She plunged into the story of how the videographer, a man named Vinny Marcel, had exposed that Marley was pretending to be her twin on the show. “Marley won, and I did get a cut of the money,” she said, finishing, “and I put it into the business. Still, the publicity really wasn’t good. I probably gained as many clients as I lost. And I lost some couples when Cheryl ran off with one of our customers, too.”

“I promise I won’t abscond with a bride,” Seth offered.

“I’d appreciate it,” said Edie. “I know it’s tough on you. I could see you eyeing Stacy.”

“Oh, please.”

She laughed.

“Seriously. Did you really use ideas for your own dream wedding while planning Julia Darden’s?”

She glanced over the sketches and photographs on the table. “Sure. This wedding could make or break my reputation, so I’ve wanted it to be perfect. And like most little girls, I always had a fantasy about what the ultimate wedding would be like.”

“You do have great taste.”

Edie looked at the picture of the dress, her heart suddenly aching. Seth was the only one who knew it had been her own dream outfit, and now unexpectedly, she almost wished she hadn’t shared the design with the heiress, although she did like sharing her thoughts and emotions about the matter with Seth. Once more, her eyes drifted over him, and her internal thermometer climbed like a fever. She sighed. “Julia came to the table with so few of her own ideas,” she admitted as she surveyed the dress for the thousandth time, admiring a square neckline calculated to show off an ample swell of breasts. Long sleeved, it was made of gossamer fabric, hand sewn with pearls and white crystals. “My mother helped with my initial vision of the design,” she added. “And as I told you before, she’s actually making it.”

“She’s good. If anyone I know ever needs a dress designer, I’ll mention her.”

“She’d love to hear you say it.”

“And the ring?” he prompted.

“Bridget designed it. Here are the others.” From under a stack of papers, Edie lifted out Bridget’s discarded designs, letting Seth leaf through them.

Suddenly, he stopped and said, “This.”

Edie could merely shake her head. At least once an hour, she found herself wondering if she’d met her soul mate. For the past three days, she’d barely dared to think it, and yet, their tastes and attitudes seemed impossibly in sync. She eyed the star-shaped setting of diamonds. “That’s the ring I imagined for myself,” she admitted. “And see—” She lifted another drawing. “The flowers are interwoven with lavender glass beads. Lavender’s both my and Julia’s favorite color, as it turned out. My dad, who works as a caterer, is making the cake. It’s—” finding another picture, she put it before him “—this.”

“Yum,” Seth offered, taking in the four-tiered confection.

“Well,” Edie conceded, her voice hitching with excitement. “You can do more with cakes. I even saw one recently that looked as if it was made of leather, but I really want this wedding to be almost all white. The tablecloths are white. The tents, just in case the weather warms up and we can move outside. I really hope it materializes the way I’ve imagined it. If so, it should be traditional, classy, beautiful.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“There’s a matching bracelet that’s attached to the ring by a thin chain,” she found herself continuing. “It’s only to be worn for fancy events. Like the wedding. Or maybe parties Julia attends in the future. And the necklace was to be—” rummaging, Edie found yet another drawing “—this simple long strand of diamonds that loops once around her neck.”

“Wow.”

Edie shrugged. “Julia chose another ring, but she’s wearing the necklace. Still, she’s pretty ambivalent.”

Seth shook his head, as if to say that was a shame.

“She would have been happy with no ring at all,” Edie said in her defense. “Julia’s a simple person, really. She’s madly in love, and just wants to settle down and start a family with as little fanfare as possible.”

“So why the…”

“Expensive, beautiful three-ring circus?” Edie finished. “Her father pushed for it. Still, I think once all is said and done, Julia will be happy she and Lorenzo have the memories.”

When she glanced up, her eyes locked with Seth’s. This time, he didn’t look away, and Edie simply couldn’t. Her lips parted as if in anticipation, and she drew in a quick, audible breath. Simultaneously, she was aware Seth Bishop had registered her response. No doubt, he could guess that her heart was hammering again. Maybe he saw the pulse that was ticking too fast in her throat. Or felt the sudden jerk of her knee against his. And while he couldn’t feel the heat pooling in her belly, or the sudden swift pang at her feminine core, maybe he could guess at it.

“What about your memories, Edie,” he murmured.

Vaguely, she wondered if this was really happening. One moment, she’d been discussing Julia’s wedding with her new assistant, and the next…

“My memories?” she managed.

“Definitely,” he said, “I don’t think you should give up on having a wedding for yourself that’s every bit as beautiful.”

Given the way he was looking at her, she almost felt as if he was proposing. It should have been unsettling, and yet such quick intimacy coming from this man, wasn’t. With every passing minute, he seemed more like her perfect match. They were both morning people. Meat-and-potatoes people. Headache rather than stomachache people. And they both liked imported beer and fine wines. They took their coffee exactly the same way, and had read most of the same books. Most importantly, when it came to talking about weddings—colors, fabrics, music, meals—Edie had finally met someone with whom she could really talk shop. They were both on the same wavelength, and during conversations, they nearly stumbled over themselves, each trying to get words out first.

What about your memories, Edie? Had Seth Bishop really just said that? Feeling as if she was in a daze, Edie considered Bridget’s ghost-busting trip once more. Had her sister really ended the wedding curse that had haunted the Benning women for years? Was it Edie’s turn to find love now?

It seemed so crazy. But why? Every woman had to meet her true love somewhere. Why shouldn’t this be Edie’s moment? Why shouldn’t this dark, snowy evening be The One? Her chest feeling tight, Edie leaned forward, wondering how he’d respond if she just pressed her lips to his….

She had a sudden urge—apropos of nothing—to just ask him to sleep with her. It was a risk, yes. But not knowing how Seth Bishop’s flesh would feel pressed to hers seemed like a risk, also. She imagined herself saying something like, “We’re both attracted, so do you want to skip all the usual preliminaries and come home with me?” The thought made her smile.

And then, over one of his shoulders, she saw the mailman at the door. “Oh—” she gasped, feeling suddenly flustered. “The mail. The papers. I forgot.”

He leaned away, looking as affected as she at what might have been a near kiss, then he pursed his lips as if suppressing a full-fledged grin, his eyes dancing with awareness. “Good,” he deadpanned. “For the last few minutes I’ve done nothing but wonder what was happening in the world at large.”

Clearly, that had been the least thing on his mind. “Me, too,” she agreed. Laughing, she playfully swatted him as she stood, swinging her hips more than necessary as she headed for the front door to meet the postman.

“Here’s two packages you need to sign for,” he said. “And all today’s papers.” After she’d signed, she took the parcels inside, set them on the reception desk, then looked at the front page of the Post and groaned. “Great,” she muttered. At least the subject matter wasn’t Julia. But maybe this was worse. Lorenzo Santini was buck naked in a locker room, and pretty well hung, Edie thought, judging by the size of the soft-focus fuzzy area meant to mask his private parts. He was deeply engaged in conversation with a woman other than his fiancée, and the headline said Darden Wedding Called Off? Why hadn’t Pete Shriver called to let Edie know?

“I really can’t believe this,” she murmured, distracted when Seth sidled behind her. Nothing more than feeling Seth’s chest brushing her back, the scent of his cologne and his breath on her neck was enough to make her forget the Darden wedding entirely, even though it had been her sole obsession for months. Seth really was just too good to be true. When Pete Shriver checked his references, he’d done so to protect the interests of his own client, Julia, but Edie was benefitting, also. How many women had a top-notch professional check out a potential boyfriend, after all?

More than potential, Edie decided as she turned toward Seth. He was close enough that she was nearly in his arms. The air between them spiked with raw heat.

“You know how I told you about Vinny Marcel?” she said, turning the Post so that Seth could see the photograph and headline. “The videographer from Rate the Dates who exposed how Marley took my place on the show?” she clarified.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I mention Vinny because there’s only one person I hate more than Vinny, for making my life a living hell.”

“And he is?”

“A guy named Jimmy Delaney.”

Suddenly, his sexy dark-eyed gaze seemed so intense that Edie felt as if the air had just been sucked from the room. “You’ve heard of him.” Angling his head, he leaned closer and for a second, she was sure he was going to kiss her now. Instead of answering, he said huskily, “Why don’t we talk about all this over dinner? I’m starved.”

Slowly, she licked her lips, staring into eyes that were but a hand’s breadth away. “Sure. I’m starved, too.” For you, she added silently, suddenly thinking she might really proposition him tonight.




3


“I HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING,” Seth began after they’d crossed Hudson Street and had claimed a back booth at a place called Hunan Pan, ordering a sampler platter that included various Chinese dishes they could share. “But—” he turned the newspaper around on the table-top, so she could look at it again “—Jimmy Delaney wasn’t the photographer.”

Surprised, Edie edged the paper toward the flickering flame from a candle on the table and squinted, so she could see in the dim light of the restaurant. “He wasn’t?”

“No. It was some guy named Jack Stevens.”

“Really?” Edie could barely believe it, but when she ducked her head and peered more closely, to read the byline, she saw Seth was right. She shook her head. “Most pictures of this sort have been taken by Jimmy Delaney,” she murmured. Glancing up, she caught Seth’s gaze. “He’s a freelancer,” she continued, explaining. “A member of the paparazzi. Pete Shriver—he’s head of the Darden security staff—has been instrumental in getting eleven orders of protection against him. For some reason, Jimmy’s really into shooting pictures of Julia.”

“She is photogenic,” Seth offered. “And I’ve seen enough pictures of her that Jimmy Delaney can’t be the only guy taking them.”

“True. But Celebrity Weddings has exclusive rights to shoot the wedding preparations, as well as the event at the estate, and Jimmy goes out of his way to show up where he’s not wanted.”

“You’re on a first-name basis,” quipped Seth. “The sure sign he’s a real archenemy.”

“We’re terrified he’ll ruin the wedding.”

Seth looked genuinely surprised. “Ruin the wedding? By trying to take pictures?”

She nodded. “He hardly has Julia and Lorenzo’s best interests at heart.”

“I doubt he wishes them ill.”

“Maybe not.”

“And people like this kind of picture,” Seth argued.

She studied him a long moment. “Lorenzo’s good-looking,” she admitted. “I’ll give you that. And people are interested in following Julia’s life, mostly because she’s the epitome of class—wealthy, beautiful and also a genuinely nice person. But a picture such as this is calculated to harm her relationship with her fiancé.”

“The headline maybe, but not the picture itself,” Seth countered, playing devil’s advocate. “Without the text, you’d just see a guy in the buff in a locker room with an unidentified woman.”

Her jaw slackened. “I can’t believe you’re saying this, Seth! You’re actually defending the photographer! The person who took this picture—” She looked down at the paper again, reading. “Jack Stevens,” she repeated. “He knew exactly what the Post would do with such a picture. He knew how it would be used.”

“Mere conjecture.”

“You’ve been hanging around too long with your best friend,” she scoffed, a smile lifting her lips abruptly, since Seth was obviously trying to rile her. He’d told her his best buddy from Ohio had become a lawyer and that they were still close. Seth was even playing uncle to the kids, which had further piqued Edie’s interest. Her own family was tightly knit, and Seth’s involvement with kids showed he might share her values, as had the way he’d spoken about his parents when the subject had come up. She suppressed a shiver that, coupled with her intense sexual attraction, could make for quite the combination.

“Well, you can’t know what was going on in Jack Stevens’s mind when he took the picture,” Seth pointed out.

“And I don’t want to,” she shot back.

Smiling, he clucked his tongue. “What venom! And for people you don’t even know.”

“And don’t want to,” she repeated, her lips curling.

Lowering his chin, he sent her a long look from under heavily lidded eyes. “Are you really saying you’ve never been sucked into staring at a lurid tabloid headline with curiosity? That you’ve never stopped in your tracks in the street near a news kiosk, just to look at the headlines?”

Crossing her arms, she leaned back in the booth, narrowed her gaze and glared at him playfully. After a long pause, she assured, “Never.”

“Hmm. Never watched Entertainment Tonight?”

She squinted. “You’re trying to make which point?”

“That if you didn’t contribute by becoming part of the market for pictures such as this, the paparazzi would cease to exist. If no one looked, photographers would be out of business. You could cancel your subscription to the Post, you know.” He paused. “Now, tell me you’ve never once bought People magazine.”

Even she could feel the guilty flush creeping into her cheeks. “Not even once,” she lied.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“I didn’t know I had to choose.”

“Playing both sides of the fence?”

“Always.”

“You must be a Gemini.”

“Guess again.”

“Leo.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’ve got a lot of outward charm.”

“Thanks. And you were warm. It’s my rising sign.”

“Ah. Virgo,” she guessed again. “Into control.”

“Nope. Scorpio. In three planets.”

“Dangerous.”

“Sexy. You?”

He was asking for her sun sign, but she only laughed. “Ditto. Very sexy. So I’ve been told.”

“Let me say it to you again then. Sexy.”

“Less so if you’re a two-timer,” she retorted. “Around me, you need to choose sides.”

“If you insist.”

“Okay. So once more, whose side are you on?”

“The one that gets you the most agitated.”

Or aroused.

She was enjoying the banter more than anything in a long time. The past months had been hectic and stressful, but shooting the breeze with Seth made her feel as if weights were being lifted from her shoulders. “You like annoying me?”

His dark eyes were sparkling now, catching the light of the candle. Reaching, he used a forefinger to brush away a lock of hair from her forehead. “Sure do.”

Suddenly, she felt breathless. “Mind telling me why?”

The finger settled on her temple for a split second, then trailed down her cheek before he playfully tapped the tip of her nose and released another low, throaty chuckle. “Because your skin gets flushed,” he began, his voice lowering a husky notch, “and I can see your pulse quickening, and I imagine your heart beating wildly, and your eyes starting to flash fire….”

She couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Usually, seeing a picture such as that in the Post would ruin her day, but tonight, sitting here flirting with Seth Bishop, it hardly seemed to matter. “You have a way with words. I take it I’ve discovered yet another of your talents, Seth.”

“Beyond?”

“Mixing and matching fabrics.”

He rolled his eyes, then bit down on his lower lip with two perfectly straight, gleaming white teeth. “Oh, Edie,” he returned, his eyes locking into hers, “I’ve got plenty of talents beyond what you’ve seen me do in your conference room.”

“You do make a perfect cup of coffee.”

“And so much more.”

She was still imagining what such a comment could mean when a waiter appeared, placing the sampler platter between them, and setting down two plates. Once the man had gone, Seth unwrapped paper from around his chopsticks, then expertly situated them between his fingers, lifted a piece of chicken and held it out, in front of Edie’s lips. So, he was going to feed her now? she thought, feeling a rush of excitement. For the past three days, her life had certainly started to get interesting, and she was glad that she’d opted for the restaurant, instead of taking him to her parents’ apartment. With her folks and Granny Ginny around, she’d never have an opportunity to get to know Seth. Who knew where this could lead?

“The food looks excellent,” he said.

“Because both my parents and I live on this street, we wind up eating here a lot. It’s always good.” Coming closer, she parted her lips and took the bite, feeling juicy tender meat explode inside her mouth. “It’s not the first time I’m glad I didn’t go the vegan route like my sister Marley,” she announced after she’d swallowed.

He winced, shooting her a sympathetic glance. “A vegan?”

“Only food. She hasn’t started wearing the shoes.”

He looked skeptical. “Shoes?”

“Haven’t you heard of that place called Moo Shoe in the East Village?”

“Nope.”

“Pleather goods.”

“Gotcha.”

Edie shrugged as he used the chopsticks to further fish around the platter, her throat tightening as his knee suddenly knocked hers under the table. It instantly corrected itself, pulled away, changed its mind, then found hers again, this time pressuring firmly. He had nice knees, too. Big and hard. More square than rounded. Even though there was nothing in her mouth at the moment, Edie swallowed, hard. Once more, she had a strong urge to simply proposition him. But how? She imagined herself just saying, “Do you want to go to bed.” But that sounded so, well, crass. Still, given the energy coursing between them, she didn’t think he’d be surprised. She was sure he’d say yes, too. “Well,” she amended. “After Marley’s divorce—she was married once—she fell off the wagon and started eating at McDonald’s.”

“Falling off the wagon usually pertains to drinking,” he said.

“Uh…Marley did some of that, too. Nothing dangerous,” she clarified, laughing. “Wine nights with the girls.”

“I take it you were one of the girls?”

She nodded. “Sure. But only because I was playing Good Samaritan, trying to help her get on her feet after the divorce.”

“Ah. Kind enough to drink fine Burgundy for a cause.”

“Of course. I’m the good twin.”

He didn’t look convinced. His eyes were saying that any woman as sexy as Edie probably wasn’t going to continue being good for long. Nothing could be further from the truth. “Marley was always the wild child,” she explained. “Boy crazy, wearing wild clothes, listening to loud music. Bridget’s the youngest. I think she always felt a little left out, because Marley and I were so focused on each other.” She shrugged, trying to turn her mind off the tingling sensation where their knees touched. “I guess I was always trying to show Marley up. Our relationship got pretty competitive when we were kids. So…”

“You dressed in button-down suits, read a lot and listened to classical music instead of rock and roll.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Surely some guy came along to loosen you up.”

She tried to mask her wistful expression, but couldn’t. Seth Bishop’s gaze was too probing, too perceptive, and his physical proximity was affecting her concentration. “Honestly?”

When he spoke, his voice had lost its playful edge, and it sounded smooth and soothing. “Yeah, honestly. I’d like to get to know you.”

Her shoulders rose and fell, and she blew out a long suffering sigh. “Some came around. But because I was more prim and proper, the guys usually wound up going for Marley.” Her smile broadened. “And well…you’ve met Marley.”

He returned the smile. “Tight spandex workout pants, visible sports bra under mesh T-shirts.”

“And there I was in my gray suits.”

He rolled his eyes. “You look good in them, and you know it.”

“Thanks. I was fishing for a compliment.”

“I’m good at taking bait.” He paused, his gaze suddenly dropping to the blouse she wore beneath her suit. “You know onlookers do get occasional glimpses of…uh, lace beneath.”

She grinned. “Really? I had absolutely no idea.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Regarding my uncheckered past,” she continued, her cheeks warming with the knowledge that he’d noticed her lace lingerie. “I did manage to make much better grades than Marley in high school.”

“Now that sounds fun.”

“A blast,” she assured.

“What about after high school?”

“Marley and I went to the same college. And my pattern of dateless nights continued.”

He shot her a mock doleful expression. “And now?”

Now she was determined to break out of the box, and while she felt compelled to say so, Seth Bishop was her employee. Oh, they’d nearly kissed in the conference room at Big Apple Brides less than an hour ago, and she’d thought of taking him straight upstairs to her apartment, but she knew it wasn’t wise to mix business and pleasure. She couldn’t help but blurt out, “We work together, Seth. Uh…I’m enjoying myself, but maybe the flirtation’s going a bit too far.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Hmm…we’ve worked together for three days.”

“Meaning?”

“I could quit.”

That caught her off guard, and she guffawed. “You’d end your wedding-planner career just for me?”

His face was stone solemn. “Absolutely, Edie.”

“Couples will be heartbroken.”

“Not as much as me if you don’t let me get to know you.”





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