The Tycoon and the Wedding Planner. Kandy Shepherd
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of champagne to follow.’
‘That sounds a good idea to me,’ he said, more wholeheartedly than he had intended.
She looked at him, her head tilted to one side, curiosity lighting her green eyes. ‘Really? Maybe, if you don’t have family and friends who want to help you celebrate a happy-ever-after ending. Dolphin Bay people are very tight-knit.’
He wondered what it would be like to live in a community where people cared about each other, unlike the anonymity of his own city life, the aridity of his family life. ‘Hence you became the wedding planner?’
‘Yes. I put my hand up for the job. Unofficially, of course. The simple ceremony on the beach is staying. But they can’t avoid a big party at the hotel afterwards. I aim to take the stress out of it for them.’
‘Good luck with that.’ He couldn’t avoid the cynical twist to his mouth.
‘Good planning and good organisation, more likely than mere luck.’
‘You mean not too many unexpected guests like me?’ he said.
Her flush deepened. ‘Of course not. I’m glad Ben has invited a friend from outside.’
‘From outside?’
‘I mean from elsewhere than Dolphin Bay. From Sydney. The big smoke.’
He smiled. She might see Sydney as ‘the big smoke’, but he’d travelled extensively and knew Sydney was very much a small player on the world stage, much as he liked living there.
‘My business with Ben could be discussed at a different time,’ he said. ‘I honestly don’t know why they want me along this evening.’
‘Neither do I.’ She immediately slapped her hand over her mouth and laughed her delightful, throaty laugh. ‘Sorry. That’s not what I meant. What I meant was they hadn’t briefed me on the need for a carpenter.’
He frowned. ‘Pass that by me again?’
‘You said you were a carpenter. I thought they were asking you tonight to talk about carpentry work—maybe an arch—though I wished they’d told me that before. I don’t know how we’d secure it in the sand, and I haven’t ordered extra flowers or ribbons or—’
‘Stop right there,’ he said. ‘I’m not a carpenter.’
‘But you said you worked in India as a carpenter.’
‘As a volunteer. Yes, I can do carpentry. In fact, I can turn my hand to most jobs on a building site. My dad had me working on-site since I was fourteen. But my hard-hat days are behind me. I manage a construction company.’
He couldn’t really spare the week away from the business in this sleepy, seaside town. But with the mega-dollar takeover offer for the company brewing, he needed headspace free of everyday demands to think.
The idea of selling Lancaster & Son Construction had first formed in India, where he’d escaped to after his cancelled wedding. In a place so different from his familiar world, he’d begun to think of a different way of life—a life he would choose for himself, not have chosen for him.
‘So I’m not in the business of whipping up wedding arches,’ he continued.
‘Oh,’ Kate said, frowning. ‘I got that wrong, didn’t I?’ He already had the impression she might not enjoy being found mistaken in anything.
He threw up his hands in surrender. ‘But, if they want a wedding arch, I’ll do my best to build them one.’
‘No, that’s not it. That was only something I thought about. I wonder why they wanted you there, then?’
He smiled to himself at her frown. It was cute the way she liked to be in the know about everything.
‘I’ve got business with Ben,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure if it’s hush-hush or not, so I won’t say what it is.’
She glanced down at her watch. ‘Well, let’s get there and find out, shall we?’
Kate started to stride out beside him in the direction of the boathouse. He noticed her feet turned out slightly as she walked. The financial controller at his company had a similar gait and she’d told him it was because she’d done ballet as a kid. Kate moved so gracefully he wondered if she was a dancer too. He’d like to see her moving her body in time to music—some sensual, driving rhythm. He could join her and...
Kate paused. ‘Hang on for a minute. The darn strap on the back of these sandals keeps slipping down.’
She leaned down to tug the slender strap back into place, hopping on the other foot to keep her steady. She wobbled, lost her balance, and held on to his shoulder to steady herself with a breathless, ‘Sorry.’
Sam wasn’t sorry at all. He liked her close—her face so near to his, her warmth, her scent that reminded him of oranges and cinnamon. For a moment they stood absolutely still and her eyes widened as they gazed into each other’s faces. He noticed what a pretty mouth she had, the top lip a classic bow shiny with gloss.
He wanted to kiss her.
He fisted his hands by his sides to stop him from reaching for her and pressing his mouth to hers.
He fought the impulse with everything he had.
Because it was too soon.
And he wasn’t sure what the situation was between Kate and Jesse. Earlier today, he hadn’t failed to notice the tension between two people who had professed too vehemently that they were just friends.
* * *
Kate started to wobble again. Darn sandals; she needed to get that strap shortened. Sam reached out to steady her. She gasped at the feel of his hand on her waist, his warmth burning through the fine knit fabric of her dress. She wanted to edge away but if she did there was a very good chance she’d topple over into a humiliating heap on the sand.
She didn’t trust herself to touch him or to be touched. Before she’d called out from the top of the steps, she’d paused to admire him as he’d stood looking out past the waters of Dolphin Bay to the open sea, dusk rapidly approaching. She’d been seared again with that overwhelming attraction.
But that was crazy.
She’d only just faced the reality that Jesse was not the man for her. That she’d been guilty—for whatever reason—of nurturing a crush for way too long on a man whom she only loved like a brother.
Of course, there had been boyfriends in the time between the two kisses. Some she remembered fondly, one with deep regret. But, in recent years, the conviction had been ticking away that one day Jesse and she would be a couple.
That kiss had proved once and for all that Jesse would never, ever be the man for her. There was no chemistry between them.
Could she be interested, so soon, in Sam Lancaster?
He’d changed to loose, drawstring cotton pants in a sludgy khaki and a collarless loose-weave white shirt—both from India, she guessed. The casual clothes made no secret of the powerful shape of his legs and behind, the well-honed muscles of his chest and arms—built up, she suspected, from his life as a builder rather than from hours in the gym.
Now, as he helped her keep her balance, she was intensely aware of the closeness of their bodies: his hand on her waist; her hand on his shoulder; the soft curve of her breast resting lightly against the hard strength of his chest. The hammering of her own heart.
Somewhere there was the swish of the small waves of the bay rushing onto the sand then retreating back into the sea; the rustle of the evening breeze in the trees that grew in the hotel garden; muted laughter from the direction of the boathouse.
But her senses were too overwhelmed by her awareness of Sam to take any of it in. She breathed in the heady aromas of masculine soap and shampoo that told her he was fresh out of the shower.
She