Page 4 of White Wedding
She drained the rest of her water and set down the glass. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sanchez.”
His dark eyes fixed on her, displaying a hint of annoyance. “Rafael.”
“I’m sorry, Rafael, but this isn’t going to work. You’ve never managed an event on this scale, and I can’t have anything go wrong. There’s also the fact that—”
“That we were lovers?”
Lovers. Because he’d been more than a mindless vacation romp. During the two weeks they’d been together, she’d actually cared about him.
Just not enough to tell him her real name.
She cringed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mention it. Or that it was a distant memory.”
“I haven’t forgottenanyof it.”
She looked into his eyes, and it was evident he hadn’t. Despite his composure, he was no doubt remembering every passionate, tequila-soaked moment they’d spent together.
He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t have come if I’d known who you were, but now that I’m here, I don’t want to lose this chance. I’m a professional, and I’ll behave like one. No one will ever know about us.” His gaze darkened. “Wasn’t that how you wanted it, anyway?”
She winced, remembering what she’d done to him. How she’d left him when he was sleeping, without ever giving him her real name, her phone number, or any way of tracking her down. If she had an ounce of self-preservation, she’d send him away now, but she only had three weeks left. And as her father had pointed out, she was low on options. If nothing else, she should review Rafael’s menus.
“Do you want to show me what you’ve drawn up?”
Any hint of the resentment he’d shown earlier disappeared as he slid the pages over to her. “From the information you sent us, I assume we’re just handling the wedding reception. Is the rehearsal dinner already taken care of?”
“Yes. It’s a smaller event—forty people, at most. We’re hosting it in one of our private dining rooms. Our executive chef and his crew are handling it, but they weren’t available for the wedding.”
Or rather, they’d suddenly becomeunavailableonce they’d gotten a dose of Missy Cavendish in full bridezilla mode.
“Got it,” he said. “Our company has handled everything from party buffets to formal sit-down dinners. Keeping your demands in mind, we came up with five possible entrees for the plated dinner and eight types of appetizers. But if you need more options, we can easily provide them.”
“Thank you.” Her mouth watered as she read through the pages. The appetizers on his list included shrimp and avocado ceviche, carnitas sliders with cilantro slaw, green chili and beef empanadas, and sweet corn tamale cakes—all of which sounded more appealing than the chopped kale salad she’d brought for lunch.
When she asked him for more for information on the entrees, he eagerly described each dish in detail. His enthusiasm didn’t surprise her. Though he’d been working as a bartender when she met him in Baja, cooking had always been his true passion.
She set down the pages. “This all looks good. I’d be happy with any of these choices, but my clients are a little pickier, so let’s give them as many different options as possible.”
For all she knew, Ben might balk at the thought of serving Mexican food. He’d never been a big fan of “anything ethnic.” But she owed it to Rafael to give him a shot.
“Can you set up a tasting for them?” she asked. “The sooner, the better.”
“How about tomorrow morning? On Saturdays, we open for lunch at noon, but I could set up a tasting in our catering kitchen around eleven thirty.”
She had no idea if Ben or Missy were free, but she’d call them and stress the urgency. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if there’s a conflict. Otherwise, you can expect us at eleven thirty. And…” As much as she hated to bring up the past, she had to be certain he wouldn’t slip. “You won’t breathe a word about Baja?”
In an instant, the light vanished from his eyes. “You have nothing to worry about.” The smile he gave her was so formal, so lacking in warmth, that it made her shiver.
Unable to stand another second under his scrutiny, she thanked him and left the boardroom. Only after she was back in her office did she let out her breath in relief. But her ordeal was far from over. Now she’d have to spend Saturday morning stuck in a room with her ex-fiancéandher former lover.
* * *
After Victoria left,Rafael took a moment to get his head together.
What were the odds?
He poured himself another glass of ice water as a flood of emotions surged through him. Confusion. Anger. Pain. And frustration, because no way in hell could he handle this job.
Upon seeing Victoria, the rush of memory smacked him upside the head. When he’d met her in Baja, she was coming off her sophomore year in college, so she had to be twenty-five by now. But she still looked the same, with skin like cream, icy-blue eyes, and delicate features. And that long, sleek curtain of hair, the color of a raven’s wing. Hair that had felt amazing when she’d brushed it across his chest as her lips explored his body inch by inch.
