Page 4 of Chasing I Do
No, he couldn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. The narrowed eyes and pursed lips were enough to tell him that she was ticked just thinking about him seeing her panties. And that was a far better state than the tears that had been threatening a moment ago.
“Look,” she said pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest, which did nothing—except pull the fabric tighter. “I’m grateful that you found the ring and helped me out of the fountain, and I have no clue as to why you’re here,” her tone said she didn’t care to find out either, “but I need you to leave.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I didn’t come to ruin your big day. I’ll get out of your way as soon as my meeting is over.” And he found the abomination in bows he was stuck dog sitting.
“Oh, it’s notmybig day,” she clarified. “I’m the planner for the wedding that is supposed to start in less than an hour.”
He looked at her outfit, while although cream and dripping, it wasn’t bridal attire. The skirt, the buttoned silk top, even her hair said professionally elegant. Not bride to be.
A heaviness that he didn’t even notice he’d taken on lifted at her admission, and he wanted to kick himself. She wasn’t getting married? So what? It didn’t matter. Kyle was gone, Gage was still struggling to make peace with things, and Darcy would always be off limits.
No matter how great she still looked. Even scratched up and sweaty, she was as gorgeous as ever.
“Well, if you’ll just direct me to the manager’s office,” he asked. “I’m late and don’t want to keep him waiting.”
She looked at her watch and froze, an expression of resignation washing over her.
“Actually, you’re early,” she said, so full of dread he felt sweat bead on his forehead. She stuck out her hand. “Darcy Kincaid, owner and exclusive planner for Belle Mont House. I believe the editor fromWedding Magazinesaid you’d be dropping by tomorrow.”
Chapter 2
“Can you define exclusive for me?” Gage asked, not sure if he was going to laugh or lose his shit. Both were distinct possibilities, and he knew with complete certainty that he was screwed.
“It means I am the only person allowed to design, plan, or oversee events at Belle Mont House,” she said, her eyes full of fire, her attitude dialed to untouchable.
Which in no way explained why his fingers itched to reach out. Sure, he liked fire and attitude on his women. He’d always especially liked it on this particular woman. But after five years of no contact and a boatload of disappointment—on both sides—he’d assumed he’d gotten past the attraction.
She’d made her choice, and he’d made peace with it.
“And what if my client wants someone else to plan the event?”
“Then they need to find a new venue. I have a list of recommendations in the office,” she said, ever so helpful. “Just let me know who your client is and I’ll have my assistant send it over.”
She handed him a card, which she pulled from who knows where. The point was, she stepped forward to give it to him, so close he could see the sun dance in her eyes, and he caught a whiff of something floral and—Jesus help him—sexy.
“I’m not at liberty to say who the event is for until we have nondisclosure agreements signed,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. Right, lame excuse, but he knew the second she heard who his client was, any bargaining chip he held would be voided. “What can I do to make you feel comfortable entertaining the idea of bringing in someone else to plan the wedding?”
“Nothing.”
The way she said it, with a bravado that was too big to be real, told him that she wasn’t as rigid as she was letting on. As an agent for some of the world’s top musicians and sports stars, Gage had negotiated enough deals to know that everyone had a price—it wasn’t always money, although money was the easiest to leverage.
But nothing with him and Darcy had ever been easy.
“Look, they don’t want another venue, they want Belle Mont House. My client’s fiancée is set on having it here.” Only because she’d heard some European princess who was loosely related to Grace Kelley had been married there once upon time. “But he will only agree to it if you ensure that it won’t turn into a media frenzy. Can you guarantee that?”
Gage watched the way those beautiful eyes darted around the grounds. He knew what she was seeing. Besides the assistant she’d mentioned, there were only a few hired servers and wait staff walking around, and if her wedding was to start in an hour, he doubted she had more coming. Bottom line: she didn’t have a staff large enough to handle a high-profile event. Let alone one that could easily become a media circus. And she knew it.
“If security is a concern, I can look into a solution that would satisfy your client’s concerns. I’d even be open to using a security company he’s used before,” she said. “But as far as running the event, I was very upfront with Lana that I would design and plan the wedding.”
Shit.
“Lana didn’t mention that,” he said, referring to the magazine editor he’d spent the last two weeks courting to make this last-minute-wedding happen. A deal that, if it went south, his client would have his ass.
And it wasn’t just any client, it was his biggest client. Rhett Easton, prodigy guitarist, front man for one ofRolling Stone’sbands-to-watch, and one of Gage’s older brothers. While Rhett was finishing up the press tour for his band’s first album, Gage had been drafted to make sure his upcoming wedding went off without any problems.
Which wouldn’t have been a problem if they’d decided to be like every other couple on the planet and give themselves at least a year to plan a wedding.
“How much would it cost for you to look the other way for once and let someone else run the show?” Gage asked.
