“None of it arrived.”

  She leaned in. “As in not delivered.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Juniper nodded as an odd grip tightened in her chest.

  “The flutes? The martini glasses with the little gold and black bowties. Did you bring those?”

  Both men perked up at that and nodded.

  “Okay then.” In an effort to regain her composure she offered a small smile. Not all was lost.

  The double doors swung open again and she dared a peek. Bright lights and lenses flashed her way.

  Just...damn.

  Cameras. Live TV.

  Her hand flew to her heart and sudden panic tightened around her vocal cords. For a split second nothing came out.

  Then her father’s favorite saying came to mind: Fail to plan then plan to fail.

  She’d planned this down to the second the newlyweds would be sipping margaritas on a Tahitian beach. No way this little detail would throw a glitch in her work.

  In an instant, her mind clicked over from her second panic of the day to instant problem-solver mode. That or risk passing out in the middle of the kitchen on live TV.

  Yeah, hard pass on that.

  Juniper shook off the cold dread that wanted to cling to her, smiled for the cameras, and let them get a good shot of the cake where she directed Rachael, Vows from Juniper’s in-house chef and baker, to explain the intricate details of the design.

  Step one completed, she moved to the side and signaled with a crooked finger for the waiters to follow her.

  She didn’t panic when her assistant misplaced a check for ten grand from one of their winter weddings or when the wedding photographer showed up drunk from a three-day drinking binge in Cabos. She wouldn’t panic now.

  A waitress swept into the kitchen with a tray of cutlery specifically designed for the cutting of the cake, nearly smacking her in the face. Juniper took it in stride.

  “Whoops. Sorry, Ms. Winter. Where should I put these?”

  Juniper checked her watch.

  Her earpiece crackled a little before her partner came on the COMS to announce the bride-to-be was almost ready as her phone vibrated from a small modified pocket in her dress Juniper added at the last minute.

  Shoulders back and with a practiced smile, she calmly spoke to the waiters. “Here’s what we need to do. You two,” Juniper pointed to the waiters and passed over a set of keys, “Ms. Stewart has a cellar. In there you will find five cases of champagne that I had delivered ahead of time. That should be enough to get you started.”

  Juniper pressed talk on her phone. “Hello, Juniper speaking?” Please, let it be the delivery guys.

  “Juniper sweetie, this isn’t a bad time, is it?” Gran’s familiar voice filtered through the phone’s speaker.

  Juniper nearly laughed. “Uhh, not at all, Gran. What’s up?”

  She fumbled in her pocket until she found her tiny case of mints.

  With the phone still to her ear, Juniper pointed to another waiter who had joined them and not a moment too soon. “And you wait outside for the delivery. I’ll call and get things worked out. Be on the ready to move fast when they arrive. We have an hour tops until everyone hits up the martini bar.” Hopefully.

  “Everything okay, Gran?” Juniper repeated, peering at her watch as she spoke. Juniper pulled the phone slightly away and turned to the waitress waiting for instruction. “Take the martini glasses and line all the remaining trays that do not have champagne flutes so we don’t waste any time once everything arrives.”

  “Juniper, the groom has a special request. He wants to know if you can help him say his vows?” Callie inquired over the earpiece in her other ear.

  “It sounds like you’re busy, sweetie. I’ll call back later.”

  “No, Gran, I needed to talk to you. Just a sec.”

  Right. Groom’s vows. Juniper snatched up her clipboard and thumbed through the stack of papers. Bingo.

  “As in feed him his vows? Seriously? Uhh. Yeah sure.” Why the heck not, she supposed.

  “Great.”

  “Gran, you still there. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is great,” Gran answered. “I just had an idea for my birthday party and thought you would need a bit of a fair warning.”

  That had her brain revving in reverse and her attention fully on the next words to come out of her grandmother’s mouth. She dumped a few mints in her palm and popped them one after the other, dreading the next words.

  When her gran actually called to give a heads up and used a word like warning paired with a sweet nonchalant voice, red flares went off and anyone fool enough not to listen was doomed. If you were smart—and this was something Juniper learned the hard way—you stopped and listened. Sometimes you prayed. “What are you talking about, Gran? What did you do?”

  Gran chuckled a little and that made her a little more nervous. When her Gran had something up her sleeve, she normally didn’t give anyone a warning. Everyone found out about it at the same time as it unfolded on Facebook. She liked to keep people on their toes like that.

  “What are you up to, lady? Spill it!”

  “Nothing much. You’ll see. I tagged you on Facebook. Lots of your clients already love the idea by the little hearts, smiley faces, and thumbs up. Two hundred and forty-three by my last count to be exact.”

  Juniper pulled the phone from her ear and hit speaker as she pulled up her Facebook page. Please don’t let this be bad. Please don’t let this be bad.

  This was bad. “Magic Bullets, edible underwear and KY jelly for a birthday party for senior citizens really don’t make great party favors, Gran.” She scrolled down a little further. Oh God. Wow. “The um… visual aids were not required, Gran. I had no idea those things were unisex, though. My God. I can’t unsee that!”

  Laughter fed through the phone. The kind that said her grandmother was having way too much fun with her little joke.

  “Apparently. That was the fun part of my research.”

  Juniper slid the preview up a little on her screen. Holy shit. Oh, that had her interest piqued. “Since when did they offer piña colada as a panty flavor? And wait. Is that a thong option?”

  “Yeah, we’ll skip that one. There are about twenty flavors to pick from. But piña colada sounds fun and tropical. And besides, who says they’re not for senior citizens? They have extra-large. We like to have a good laugh too, ya know. Harry loves the idea of the Magic Bullet. Says it will spice up our nights. Oh, and we can color-code it to the rest of the decorations for the engagement party and get a discount. I checked. The nice guy on the phone said if we order in bulk we could have it all arrive in plenty of time for the party. How many do you think we need?”

  Juniper tossed back a few more mints and sighed when the last one shook out into her mouth.

  If…IF…she survived today, she considered changing her area code and moving to Australia. At this rate all the surprise ideas Gran had so far left her a couple of heartbeats shy of heart attack territory.

  Juniper sighed. “As many as you can eat, I guess.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Juniper waited until the count of three and pressed two fingertips to her temple. She knew better than to try to argue. The woman was tenacious when she wanted something. When Gran announced she was retiring from the bed and breakfast life and sold her inn, the whole family was happy for her. Newly remarried and retired, they all thought she would kick back a little and mellow out.

  Fat chance!

  “There’s no changing your mind, is there?”

  A cameraman snickered behind her, but this time it didn’t faze her.

  Juniper turned on her heel and dragged her gaze from her clipboard to lock with the camera. “Umm… Gran. Can we talk about this later?”

  “Sure, honey. Oh, wait what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “You know, I think it can wait now. Let me digest the whole edible underwear and KY jelly thing.” She heard her words but just plowed through them anyway. “We’ll talk about your panties later, ’kay?” Juniper looked up as the words rolled off her tongue. Straight into another camera lens.

  “You bet your buttons!”

  The line went dead just like her heartbeat for all of ten seconds. Or at least she wished it would.

  Nothing to do now but smile her way through it. Might as well act like the blush hitting her cheeks was just part of the fun. “Long, very long story. Keep an eye out on our Facebook for the deets.”

  Might as well go with the roll, Juniper.

  She held her smile in place and waved at the camera. If anything, they’d get a few more likes on their business fan page. Lemons to lemon pie.

  Juniper took a second to absorb the last sixty seconds of her life. She did not just have a conversation with her grandmother about edible underwear and vibrators. “I bet no one in the history of wedding planning ever used those two things in one sentence before,” she mumbled low.

  “Earth to Juniper. We are a go. The bride is walking the aisle! Are we a go? Repeat—the best man looks like he’s about to eat carpet he’s so pale.”

  Ah crap! “Yeah, well, he should have spent his pre-wedding night learning his lines instead face first in a set of stripper’s tits and booze. But I’m on it.” Juniper ducked out of the kitchen and found a little nook big enough to squeeze into unseen.

  “God, please let all this work out.”

  Six hours later Juniper thanked her lucky stars for overly stuffed armchairs and cushiony footrests. Like puffy clouds from heaven. She sighed as her ass sank another few inches into a lounged-back plush armchair that looked straight off a movie set and toed the cream-colored torture devices holding her feet hostage to the side. “Fifteen plus hours in those things should come with hazardous pay.”

  “No kidding.” Callie mimicked her motions, adding in a couple of moans as her feet hit the cold marble flooring.

  “The last of the guests have officially left the building and–”

  “—the bride and her man are off to get their groove on in Tahiti.”

  “Bingo. We did it! I can’t believe what she said about us on TV! Oh my God! I’m still flying high!”

  Juniper raised her bowtie-dressed martini glass as Callie met her halfway with her own.

  She’d be smiling for a week. Maybe more. “I asked for a written recommendation to include in our pamphlets. Not a gushing outpouring of her soul on what she thinks of us and Vows from Juniper. But I’ll take it, thank you, Universe and Gretchen Stewart!”

  Callie raised her glass again. “I’ll toast to that and to another successful marriage of love⁠—”

  “—happiness.”

  “And never having to walk the red carpet alone again.”

  “Amen!”

  “Come on, how long do you think it will last?”

  “Given her track record, at least three years. That beefcake she just tied herself too is too good to let go too fast.”

  “Juniper!” Callie gushed, laughing. “But I’ll one-up you. I bet he has a lot of stamina.”

  They both sat back and let the day settle over them. Nestled away from the cleaning crew already in full swing one could appreciate how the other one percent of humanity lived.

  “Did you call the driver?”

  “Should be here within ten,” Callie confirmed around another mouthful of what she liked to call liquid happiness. “And speaking of all this togetherness,” Callie crossed her legs, the gold of her dress sparkling in the soft light of the parlor and leaned over the arm of her chair nearest her own. “About your date tonight,” she whispered.

  Juniper sprang up. “Oh crap, Callie! Eric! I totally spaced out. He’ll be so freaking disappointed. Again!”

  “Chill, boss lady. I’ve gottcha you covered. I called to let him know you would be a half-hour late. He said not to worry. He’d wait for you at the restaurant.”

  Eric. He worked the tall, dark, and dangerously handsome vibe like nobody’s business. With a degree in journalism and professional photography, Juniper found him interesting, why that didn’t translate to more was anyone’s guess.

  Juniper had her doubts anything between them would stand the strain of the weeks he spent away on assignment, but after several work-related dinner dates, he whittled down her defenses. What could she say, candlelit dinners, dimples, and hard everything were her weaknesses.

  Long-distance relationships were notoriously flawed and for good reason, and tonight marked a month since their last face-to-face date. She only hoped she didn’t find out firsthand why.

  Eric had a special way about him. Attentive and kind and dedicated to his work. She clucked her tongue, rolling that thought around in her head. Maybe too dedicated.

  He made her feel comfortable and safe, and he loved to take her into oh my god, just one more orgasm territory, but what about the supposed butterflies in the stomach she’d heard about over and over from her girlfriends, clients, sisters? Sex butterflies didn’t count. Ever since her oldest sister got engaged a year back, Juniper longed to experience that kind of connection. The kind that left her breathless and with a constant glow with added sex butterflies.

  Glowing sounded nice.

  Maybe love felt different for everyone.

  Who the hell knew? Just because she planned weddings for a living didn’t mean she understood all the aspects of relationships. Far from it! But one thing was for certain—change was in the air and it caused unwanted jitters to rush through her.

  Plus, she had picture proof to back up her gut feeling.

  While list checking, refining, and wrangling the last of the wedding details together, the morning before Callie had texted a snapshot of Eric in full-color ring shopping. Or at least that’s how it looked. Back in town only hours, he was spotted in a jewelry shop and not just any jewelry shop. He’d been looking over a black case she could only assume held rings from Los Angeles’ most desirable jewelry shop known for its unique cut gems and designs. A girl got ideas after seeing a thing like that.

  “What if we have this all wrong?” Running a finger over the rim of her glass, she turned to Callie, worried.

  “What if you don’t?” she countered with a devilish grin on her lips. “A man doesn’t window shop for rings, Jun. Your man has a plan and it's spelled PUT-A-RING-ON-IT!”

  Juniper scrunched her nose with a laugh. Great, now that song would follow her all night.

  Juniper held up her left hand and studied the as-of-yet empty ring finger.

  While other young girls had been out competing in how many frogs they could catch versus the neighborhood boys, Juniper preferred the quiet retreat of her treehouse and the latest magazines on lavish weddings. Since the ripe age of ten, she could spot the difference between a Vera Wong masterpiece and a knockoff.

  Her brothers loved to pick on and tease her as she planned lavish Barbie and Ken weddings.

  She shifted her gaze to the sea of stars that peeked out from the bank of clouds rolling by.

  Yes. She was that girl. The one that dreamed about happily-ever-afters and believed everyone deserved true love. Even her dolls.

  She’d planned enough weddings, worked with enough brides and grooms to know not everyone ended up with the perfect counterpart though. Flaws or glitches were to be expected.

  That’s why she had a plan when it came to her love life. A list to be exact—a how to pick your perfect man list. A twelve-point list of what she wanted in a man. Her eight-ball, so to speak, in the murky unknowns of love.

  “I can see it on your face, woman. You already compared him to your ‘perfect man list’ haven’t you?”

  Juniper rolled her eyes at Callie’s accusation. “You asked the same question the other day.”

  “And you didn’t answer.”

  “If you must know, I’ve given him a solid eight out of twelve, so far.” She could tell her friend held no faith for her to ever marry either.

  “I knew it.” Callie tapped the side of her head and her lips pulled into a small grin. “I bet he can’t be too happy about that. Hard to believe he’s only hit eight of your twelve rules, though. He’s a solid nine at least from the way he fills out a pair of jeans.” Her friend’s eyebrows shot up with her hands at her confession. “Just sayin’.”

  Juniper shrugged. “They are not rules, per se. Just solid guidelines. I’m giving him time to work up to all twelve. Seems fair, no? I mean, he doesn’t even know what he’s competing against.” Juniper added to Callie’s surprise, judging by how her mouth gaped open.

  “You’re kidding. He doesn’t know? Awkward. What about the dimples? That should earn him a reprieve from a couple of your rules at least.”

  Juniper smothered a groan with a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m a terrible date, Cal. My history should speak for itself. Maybe I should come with a warning label and an instruction manual.” Regardless of her desire to be counted among the married, she didn’t hold out high hopes of it happening any time soon.

  “I don’t know. That’s probably true with half the population of California. Hell, the world. Do you know what you’re going to say when he asks? Do you think he’s the one?”

  “I…” Juniper furrowed her brows. What would she say? Until that very second, she thought for sure the answer would be yes. At twenty-five, she wanted safety and reliability. Not the struggle and daily dread of the unknown. Where was a magic eight-ball when a girl needed one?

  “I don’t really know. I guess we’ll both find out.” She needed to let go mentally and let her man list do the heavy lifting.

  An hour later Juniper finally skidded into the restaurant they agreed to meet at and stopped to catch her breath. Running four blocks from her office in heels took almost the last of her energy. Luck had to be the only way she didn’t break a heel and take out all the misfortunate pedestrians.

  She smoothed down the soft pleats of her skirt as she sidestepped a couple on their way out.

  The hostess ushered her in and she gave Eric’s name. By the time she got his last name out, he was already on his feet and walking toward her. His shoulders were a little stiff and the smile he flashed didn’t offer any more comfort than the quick peck on the cheek he gave.