Page 16 of Exposed

He slides his hand into his pockets as the ocean breeze bounces off Biscayne Bay and causes a lock of his wavy hair to drop to his forehead, curling from the humidity. From the crinklebetween his eyes, I’m afraid he senses my utter panic. “You don’t look good.”

I tuck my clutch tightly under my arm and take a step back. “Well, then.”

“That’s not what I meant.” The words spill from his lips quickly as he rips off his shades. I get a good look at his bright blue gaze as he drags his eyes up and down my short cocktail dress the color of sand. “You look good. I mean, you look great. What I meant was, you look like someone just kidnapped your dog and is holding it for ransom.”

I lift my chin and straighten my spine. I swear, his eyes drop to my breasts for a quick beat. “See there? You don’t know me at all. I don’t have a dog.”

Daniel drags a hand through his hair, which only makes it messier rather than the other way around. “That’s just a figure of speech. Though, you do look like a dog person.”

I am a dog person. I love dogs, and I wish I could manage one in my life.

But that’s another mouth to feed.

“Shall we go in?” I ask.

He slides his shades back on and holds an arm toward the front door. “I can’t wait.”

I purse my lips quickly before motioning the other way. “Since we’re not officially guests of the event, I told management we’d slip in through the back.”

“The back?” He drops his arm. “Interesting. Lead the way, Ms. Carter.”

I put Daniel between myself and the entrance as we make our way past the front doors. Guests are filing in with invites and IDs in hand.

Shoot. That means it’s not a wedding.

It’s one ofthoseevents.

I need more than a shred of luck to pull this off. The fact thatthis is a high-profile event does not help. It’s either a celebrity function or one of Dex’s business soirées. I worked here long enough to know they don’t check the guest list for normal bookings.

I might not work here any longer, but I need to do what I came here to do—convince Daniel Armstrong to book his aunt’s wedding elsewhere, so I turn to him and begin the sales spiel that I hope will have the adverse effect today.

“The Pink was originally called The Pink Peony. It’s a twenty-acre estate that includes prime private beachfront that frames the property. The estate was one of the first built when Miami started to flourish during the last century. A Wall Street tycoon from The Big Apple built it for his wife who hated the cold. She would spend winters here.”

Daniel follows me around to the side entrance of the building, and mutters as he takes in every inch of the place. “Miami is nice in the winter.”

“The gothic-style mansion has its beauty, I suppose. Though it is a bit creepy if you ask me. I mean, faded pink gothic? It makes it difficult to decorate around. It’s an interesting choice for sure.” I stop where I am, lean in, and lower my voice. “Honestly, who wants that as your backdrop for tying the knot for the rest of your life? Personally, I would prefer white. It’s not loud and abrasive. Every bride deserves to be the focal point. Especially Trippy.”

King narrows his eyes and glances down to my hand. I didn’t realize I was fisting the lapel of his jacket. “You’re an interesting salesperson.”

I quickly let go and smooth it before giving his chest a little pat. “If you want a salesperson, you’ll have to find another wedding planner. I want nothing but the best for my clients. Things like this can only be done once. Just spelling out all the pros and cons. If you’d prefer I not be honest…”

He tips his head and stares at me. “Please, be honest.”

“Well then, let’s continue.” I smile and think this might work after all. I turn on my heel and commit to my make-him-hate-it strategy. “The stucco and limestone trim have faded over the years from storms and salt water in the air. None of the owners have ever repainted it to the bright pink the original owner chose. Did you know peonies don’t even grow in Florida?”

“Nope,” he answers as if he doesn’t care.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I eye the back gate ajar where the caterers and florists enter.

A bit of luck. This might work after all.

“Peonies require warmth and sun but also need a cold winter to flourish. It’s sort of ironic the original owner named it The Pink Peony when they don’t even grow here. Even less meaningful, if you ask me.”

I open the gate, but when I turn to look up at Daniel, he nods, uninterested. “Ironic for sure.”

I stop before entering to allow a rush of waiters to pass and lower my voice. “I know you said your aunt has her heart set on The Pink, but there are more beautiful venues in my opinion, especially for an intimate ceremony.”

He frowns. “Let’s look around anyway.”

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