THREE

      Christ, this wasn’t really what he’d had in mind.

      The chill seemed to hang in the air of The Frozen South, an ice bar taking up the top floor of The River’s Edge Resort and Casino overlooking downtown New Orleans. The crowd fairly thick, the noise seemed even thicker. Most likely everyone else had the same idea: escape the heat wave outside. And the establishment was the perfect choice.

      Ice blocks holding tiny neon lights made up the bar. Ice sofas, ice chairs and ice sculptures were the mainstay of the furniture and the décor. Fortunately, fur rugs lined the seats. Good thing, too. Anyone bold enough to drink too much in this environment might forget to protect their skin and wind up stuck to their chair. Some of the patrons chose to have their drinks served in ice cups. And because the management clearly had a sense of humor, costumers could even keep their cups. Of course, with the hot weather still chugging along outside with a relative heat index nearing one hundred degrees, by the time the club goer arrived home all they’d have is a wet hand that smelled of vodka.

      But Matt’s beef with the choice wasn’t the crowd. Nor was it the cool temperature, a relief after the blistering day outside. Callie’s frozen margarita looked inviting and his beer was the perfect temperature.

      No, Matt hated the need for Callie to be covered in so many clothes.

      Matt had sprung for the best cover package, which included a parka best suited for exploring the Arctic and a hat that framed her face, limiting his view of the honey hair he enjoyed. The only thing he had going for him was that she hadn’t zipped the jacket closed.

      He leaned in to speak at her ear. “You sure you don’t want to go somewhere quieter?”

      She turned to look at him. A maneuver that brought them face-to-face, her lips close to his.

      Huh. The impulse to lean in and kiss Callie smacked him across the face like a pheromone-soaked glove, but he squelched the urge. How the hell could he plan this crazy wedding and get home to check up on Tommy if he was constantly looking at Callie, wondering what she’d taste like? With that honey hair and that honey accent, would her mouth have the same flavor?

      A stupid, fanciful thought that was getting him nowhere closer to his goals.

      He cleared his throat. “We might accomplish more without the noise.”

      Two beats passed, but Matt couldn’t read the look in Callie’s eyes.

      “It feels good in here,” she said. “Besides, the view is awesome.”

      Matt mentally shook his head and forced his gaze out the large window.

      True, the lights of downtown New Orleans at night were definitely awesome. Unfortunately, he hadn’t traveled to New Orleans to enjoy the view. But Callie in a blouse, wearing a sweater zipped up to her throat, paled in comparison to her breasts on display in a slutty Scarlett O’Hara dress. Or a wet T-shirt.

      Though the gently curved hips and the shapely butt in formfitting jeans almost made up for the lack of cleavage.

      Almost.

      “So...” Callie stared down at her notebook, obviously completely unaware of the distracting thoughts mucking up Matt’s concentration. “The games we’ve got listed so far are an ax-throwing competition, an archery competition and sword fighting. Though having all three feels redundant. Today I made a few calls and found a magician available those two days.”

      Magicians. Great. But Matt was too caught up by the play of beautiful lips and teeth and tongue as Callie spoke to pay much attention.

      “A local group can provide something resembling strolling minstrels,” Callie went on. “Though they won’t be quite as authentic as we’d like. I checked with the park this afternoon, and horses are allowed. Which is good because apparently Penny would love to have jousters, so I contacted a branch of the Society for Creative Anachronism and—”

      “Wait. What?”

      Matt’s mind stuck, spinning on all the information. Though only one piece of news stuck out.

      Callie set her list down and looked at him. “The society is a living history group that’s devoted to re-creating the Middle Ages. There’s a branch just outside of—”

      “No.” Matt shook his head. “You spoke to Penny?”

      For some reason the news felt odd. Strange.

      She tipped her head curiously. “You gave me the contact numbers, remember? So I called and spoke to both Tommy and Penny today.” She hiked an eyebrow. “After all, I am arranging their wedding.”

      Matt couldn’t speak, and Callie went on.

      “Anyway, Tommy is gathering volunteers among their DoZ friends attending to run the sign-up for the competitions and then the competitions themselves during the event. And Penny is going to coordinate any of the Society of Anachronism volunteers who can attend on such short notice.”

      “Damn.” Matt plowed a hand through his hair. “This thing is growing out of control.”

      At this rate he’d never get back home to check on Tommy. Matt’s stomach tensed. It had been how many days since he’d last laid eyes on Tommy?

      Regardless, if the explosion of the wedding weekend kept up, Matt would be stuck in New Orleans figuring out how to clean up horse dung from a park and how to find swords and— Jesus, why did Callie have to smell so good?

      “I suppose now wouldn’t be the time to tell you about the dragon Colin is donating to the cause?”

      Matt rubbed his forehead. “Dragon?”

      Callie’s lips twisted wryly. “Not a real one, of course. One they used at the launch party of Dungeons of Zhorg.” She eyed him closely, like he looked as if his head bordered on exploding.

      Matt wasn’t sure but it might have been true.

      “At least all of Tommy and Penny’s guests are DoZ friends who are bringing their own costumes. Looks like you and I are the only ones who need to rent something.”

      Matt blinked, biting back the urge to call the whole damn thing off. “I am not dressing up as a troll.”

      Callie laughed. “I pictured you dressed