She stared up at him and thought that the great thing about loving someone was that they could always surprise you, no matter how well you figured you knew them.

  “I hurt your feelings.”

  “You’re damn right you hurt my feelings. Who wants to be called an emotional cripple?”

  “No. I didn’t.” She picked up the remote and muted the TV. “I didn’t write that part of the text. Karen took my phone away from me. I didn’t send you that message. If you’d read it over a second time you’d probably have realized that.”

  He blinked at her. “Karen wrote it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Karen? The wedding planner?”

  “That Karen.”

  “But— I thought she liked me.”

  “She does like you. She’s going through something with her ex-husband and she was in a crazy mood, not helped by mainlining a couple of drinks called Kamikazes.”

  He sat down. Still not as close to her as she’d like, but at least they were on the same couch. “So, you didn’t write that text.”

  “No. I don’t think you’re an emotional cripple.” She couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “Because I fixed you. You totally used to be an emotional cripple. Now you’re not.” She leaned over and put her hand over his. “I didn’t realize getting married was a big deal to you. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, it’s…a man has certain expectations. If he asks a woman to marry him and she accepts…” He drilled her with his eyes. “I mean for real and not in some bogus fake fiancé way—”

  “Right.”

  “Then he expects that she’ll find a weekend in her busy schedule to marry him.” He leaned forward, so earnest and eager that her heart went squirmy. “You know, you have to book these places six months in advance and then there’s the photographer to book and well, the pew bows.”

  “I know. I’ve been putting everything off. I have.”

  His hands tightened painfully on hers. “Tell me the truth. Are you having second thoughts?”

  Her heart began to hammer. “No.” She couldn’t bear it if he did so she asked very quickly. “Are you?”

  “No. I love you. I don’t want to wait another half a year to be married to you.”

  “Are you really stuck on a big wedding?”

  “For all I care we could go down to the courthouse and get married on our lunch hour.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Of course. Weddings are for brides.” He seemed to consider that statement. “And families.”

  “And friends.” She flopped back on the couch still holding his hands. “I keep thinking I’m too busy to get married but the truth is I am avoiding it. Weddings are starting to become associated with hard work in my mind.”

  “But I need to seal the deal.”

  “Seal the deal? What am I? An insurance policy?” As the top salesman for an insurance firm, he had a bad habit of thinking in sales speak.

  “Okay, okay. I want to marry you.”

  She glanced up at David under her lashes thinking that marriage to him was never going to be dull. He had that look in his eye, the one that suggested they’d be naked and she’d be seeing stars before too long. He only had to look at her like that to get her hot. “I might have to try you out first.”

  David made a sound deep in his throat, part moan, part growl. “You are the sexiest woman on seven continents.” He took a fingertip and traced the line of her V-neck silky top that revealed just a hint of cleavage.

  He trailed the line of her shirt down to where it ended and then nudged the fabric a little farther.

  “Yeah?” She felt liquid and sexy and his eyes were getting that heavy-lidded expression that made her melt. She traced her hand up his thigh. “I remember when you tried to pick me up on the street.”

  “Greatest night of my life,” he said.

  He picked up the remote, and pushed another button. Music flooded the room. He pulled her gently to her feet and pulled her against him. She closed her eyes and settled her head against his chest, moving with him. He simply led her around the floor, her body pressed to his. He took a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek and wound it around his index finger. He traced her lips. “You’re the sexiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” It sounded like he was telling her the truth in his heart.

  “Oh, David,” she said, and lifted her face for his kiss.

  And as he wrapped his arms around her, she realized she was tired of playing games. So she’d have a complicated wedding with parents who hadn’t been able to put their bitter divorce behind them, interfering but well-meaning work colleagues and David’s parents whom she loved, but who didn’t have enough to do now they’d retired. They wanted this marriage so badly they’d offered to pay for it, organize it and host it. She’d found her future mother-in-law knitting yellow baby booties and when she’d claimed they were for a friend, she hadn’t quite believed her.

  But really, in the big scheme of things, was she going to let all those things stop her from marrying the man she loved?

  “Are you sure you can put up with me forever?” she asked him, her head still against his chest where she could hear his heart beating its steady, reliable rhythm.

  “Yes. I want to be with you forever. Longer if I can figure out how that part works.” He pulled away long enough to look down into her face. “I love you.”

  “Let’s get married,” she said.

  23

  KAREN CREPT into the kitchen as though she were about to commit a felony. Laurel watched in surprise as she crossed to her side, checking over her shoulder before speaking.

  “Where’s Chelsea?”

  “She said something about driving out to Kennett Square. She went to source mushrooms.”

  “She drives miles out of town for mushrooms.” Karen shook her head. “And I think I’m obsessed with food.”

  “Did you need her for something? She’s got her cell phone with her.”

  “No. I’m having lunch with her fiancé and I don’t want her to know anything about it.”

  Laurel blinked, pausing from airbrushing clouds onto a sky-blue background to concentrate her full attention. Since Friday when they’d had their girls’ night out, Karen had been acting strange. Now she was becoming seriously worried. “You’re dating Chelsea’s fiancé?”

  Karen’s laugh was sudden and loud. “No, not that kind of a date. As if he’d ever look twice at me when he’s got Chelsea.”

  “It’s weird they don’t get married.”

  “It’s men. They can’t commit. They’re all like ‘too many first dates, Ron.’” She suddenly stopped, looking at Laurel fully for the first time. “Oh, that was rude. I forgot you were one of them. Um, how did your coffee date go?”

  Laurel wondered if it was even possible to put into words how that first coffee date had gone, decided it couldn’t be done, not without a thesaurus and a lot of time. Besides, their relationship was all so new and special she didn’t want to spoil it by talking too soon. She settled on “Fine.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t have thought you two would have much in common. But that’s great. Are you seeing him again?”

  Laurel was an honest person, but she didn’t feel any need to share with Karen that apart from when they were working, she and Ron spent most of their time together. When they’d exhausted themselves making love, sometimes they read together in bed. He’d even taken her to the house he’d inherited from his parents, introduced her to his dog, Beth, and she was helping him make the family home over into his.

  After her telling him his ideas were too conservative and him telling her that hers were too wild, they were meeting there tonight with a designer. She was flattered that he wanted her input, but she thought they both knew she’d end up living there one of these days.

  Not that he’d said anything, or she had, but sometimes you just knew.

  Karen was looking at her, obviously waiting for an answer, but Laurel had discovered the best thing about everyone thinking you were flaky was you had the luxury of taking time before answering. At last, she simply said, “Yes. I’m seeing him again.” And taking him a first edition copy of an old Raymond Chandler novel that she’d found in one of the used bookstores near her place.

  No doubt Karen hadn’t noticed that Ron had removed his profile from the dating site and she suspected he wouldn’t be going on many more first dates. Coffee or otherwise.

  “Huh. Well, there’s no accounting for tastes, no pun intended.” And Laurel was left wondering which of them Karen had just insulted.

  “Anyhow,” Karen continued, “I think it’s time I stepped in and had a little talk with the reluctant groom.”

  “You called him?” Laurel liked Karen, she really did. It was impossible not to, but she was getting the feeling that the wedding planner was going through a phase of some sort that wasn’t entirely conducive to helping Chelsea and David find perfect happiness.

  “No. He called me.”

  “Really? What did he want?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s going to get some advice. If he lets that amazing woman get away because he is too scared of commitment, then he’s the biggest fool alive. And that’s what I plan to tell him.”

  Laurel never thought of herself as a brave person. She more liked to stay in the background of life and observe, but she cared about Chelsea and she didn’t think she could live with herself if she didn’t try to protect her from Marriage’s Avenging Angel.

  “Are you sure this is about David and Chelsea?”

  Karen was such a strong woman, always in control. But as she met Laurel’s gaze, the tough attitude collapsed and her eyes filled with emotion. “You mean, am I interfering in other people’s business out of some twisted need of my own? I don’t think so. Dex has gone back to New York. I doubt I’ll be seeing him again.”

  “Why? What did he do?”

  “He told me he loved me.” She seemed for a second as though she might cry, but she pulled herself together. “And I walked away. Now he doesn’t send me sexy texts anymore and he’s back in New York and I… I just want David to understand that he could lose Chelsea if he doesn’t stop being so scared of love and marriage.”

  “Maybe you should call him.”

  “But I’m seeing him in half an—”

  “Not David. Dexter. Maybe you should call him. I don’t know, go for counseling or something. You seemed so happy when he was around.”

  “I think it’s too late. Anyhow, today is about Chelsea and David.”

  “Are you sure Chelsea would want you to—”

  “No! Of course she wouldn’t. And I don’t want Chelsea to know I interfered. That’s why I need you to keep her focused on mushrooms or whatever until I get back. Can I trust you to keep it a secret that I’m seeing her man?”

  Laurel called on the universe to shore up her courage. “Only if you promise not to make things worse.”

  “Of course I won’t. David loves her. He probably just needs a gentle nudge.” She looked at Laurel and her blue eyes started to dance. “With a cattle prod.”

  DAVID WAS WAITING for her at the restaurant he’d chosen. It was an Italian restaurant halfway between both their offices and the kind of place where neither of them were likely to bump into anyone they knew.

  She felt momentarily guilty at meeting Chelsea’s fiancé without her knowledge, but she knew she was doing this for the best so she sucked up her courage and went forward. She’d planned to hug him since she’d met David a few times and he’d always been friendly. But he stuck out his hand in a formal way, so she shook his hand instead. Weird.

  When the hostess seated them, he asked for a quiet table in the back of the room and her feeling of subterfuge was heightened.

  They made small talk over menus but she wasn’t really reading what was listed. It was too tempting. When the waitress came for her order she asked for salad. No dressing.

  David, of course, went for a rich pasta dish. No doubt there’d be garlic bread. Garlic bread was one of her weaknesses. Maybe this place wasn’t the ritziest Italian restaurant on the planet, but it had all the right scents. Garlic and tomato sauce, rich cream and who knew what else? All she knew was that if she breathed in too deep she’d gain a pound.

  She needed to think about something else before she called the young woman with the dyed black hair and the nose stud back and changed her order. “I was surprised to get your call,” she said.

  “I bet.” His brows pulled together. “I wasn’t sure I was going to call after the other night.”

  She reached for a bread stick. Snapped it in half, told herself she’d only nibble. “The other night?”

  He had really great eyes, and usually they were full of charm, but right now they seemed pretty chilly. “Do you really think I’m an emotional cripple?”

  “No. Of course not. I—”

  He was looking at her with skepticism all over his face and suddenly that awful night when she’d forced Chelsea and Laurel out dancing came back to her. “Oh. I texted you, didn’t I?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did I really call you an emotion—”

  “Yep. I thought the text came from Chels. It was pretty intense.”

  She put her head in her hands. “Oh, David. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. I was a little…” What was the word she was going for here? Oh, yeah, she knew. Where Dex was concerned, it always came back to the same thing. “Crazy.”

  “I figured drunk, but okay. It probably turned out to be a good thing, Chelsea and I had a long talk that night.”

  Her guilt lifted slightly. “Oh, thank heaven. I really wasn’t myself that night. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  His eyes were warming already. He seemed like the kind of man who didn’t stay mad for long. There was a twinkle in his baby blues when he said, “For a price.”

  Putting the bread stick down, she reached for her water. “What kind of price?”

  “I think I’m beginning to understand why she doesn’t want to get married.”

  “Well, it’s good that you—” She glanced up at him, but he didn’t look like he was toying with her. “Did you say she’s the one who doesn’t want to get married?”

  “Yep.”

  “But, I thought—”

  “I know you did.” He paused here as their food arrived. She was so busy thinking she barely noticed the scent of freshly baked garlic bread wafting over her naked greens like a very bad boy trying to corrupt a determined girl.

  When their waitress left, he continued. “Last year I was an ass. I know that now, but when I figured out that I love Chelsea and she’s the woman I want to spend my life with, I thought we’d just do it, you know?”

  “Get married, you mean?”

  “Right. Instead, she’s got one excuse after another.”

  “Chelsea is the one dragging her feet on the wedding?” She felt she needed to clarify this fact once more.

  “Yes.”

  When had she ever been so wrong about anything? Karen always prided herself on being so smart about people. “Wow. I had no idea.”

  “You want a piece?” He offered her the plate of garlic bread which she’d been eyeing hungrily. She should resist but right now she needed comfort food.

  “Sure, thanks.”

  While she bit into the garlic bread, enjoying it so much she almost moaned, he said, “I’m giving her all the time and space I can because, obviously, I wasn’t exactly the most stand-up guy when we were engaged the first time. But that wasn’t real. This is real.”

  He looked so sincere she could see his love for Chelsea shining out of his eyes. This, she thought, this is why I do what I do. Bringing people together and helping them start their lives together with the most perfect wedding ever.

  She leaned forward. “Okay, I was wrong about you. Instead of apologizing again, I’d like you to tell me, what can I do to help?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Here’s the problem. Chelsea feels like weddings are part of her work life, plus her folks aren’t exactly the poster parents for divorced couples with families. Then there are my parents who are so eager for this wedding, it’s sort of scary, and everybody at my work wants to be involved. Honestly, I think she’s freaked out.”

  “I can imagine how that could feel.”

  “The other night, after we talked and I told her how much I wanted to marry her, she suddenly said, ‘Okay, let’s get married.’ But I could tell she was doing it for me.”

  “David, she loves you, I’m sure of it—”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s not that. I’m sure she loves me, too. It’s the wedding that’s making her crazy.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “We’re going to elope. And I need your help.”

  She frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever planned an elopement.”

  “I know it probably sounds insane, but I want to surprise her. If I suggest we elope she’ll argue with me, she won’t want to let down her parents and mine and all our friends and coworkers.”

  Karen thought about how much she’d been looking forward to planning Chelsea and David’s wedding and knew exactly what he was referring to.

  “You’re right. She will. So what do you need me to do?”

  He looked boyishly excited as he pulled out brochures. “Here are three resorts that do weddings. What do you think?”

  He shoved them across the table at her. All featured crystal water oceans, beaches, weddings with tropical sunsets pictured in the background. She pushed them all back across the table. “These are all really beautiful, but I don’t know, David. I think she’d want to get married in Paris.”

  “Paris?”

  “Yes.”

  “But the weather’s so crummy there this time of year.”

  “It’s Paris. Who cares?” She glanced up at him. “Anyhow, it’s your honeymoon. When are you going to be outside?”

  “True. And they do have some incredible hotels there.”

  “Yep, you could stay at George V or Crillon. Oh, and think of the restaurants. She could eat in all the best places, restaurants she couldn’t afford when she was living in Paris and studying.” Her enthusiasm built as she thought of all the positive aspects of Paris as an elopement destination. “She could have her good friend give her away, what’s his name? The one she met in cooking school.”